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THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY Astor Lenox and Tilden Foundations

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NATIONAL SHORTHAND REPORTERS ASSOCIATION

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WILLIAM SAMPSON:

INCLUDING

PARTICULARS OF HIS ADVENTURES IN VARIOUS PARTS OF

EUROPE; HIS CONFINEMENT IN THE DUNGEONS OF

THE INQUISITION IN LISBON, &C. &C.

SEVERAL O^JGINAL LETTERS;

BEING

HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE MINISTERS O? STATE IN GREAT-BRITAIN AND PORTUGAL,

A SHORT SKETCH

OF THE

HISTORY OF ffiMtASTi., >>!>:

PARTICUXAKA-X as it jeie. specks '1»JE' JSJEH&IJ? OF BKITTSH DOMINATION IN .THA/f ' CGUNTRt*:'

and ;3o ; 'J\ „'•/ • *,» '; A FEW OBSERVATIONS "

ON THE STATE OF MANNERS, &C, IN AMERICA.,

SECOND EDITION:

REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR,

PUBXXSHED BT SAMUEX B. T. CAXDWEXT- XEESBURG, YA,

• •••

1817.

puS-f

■ OX AND DATION8 1914 , L

District of New -York, ss.

BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the eighteenth day of November, in the thirty-second year of the inde- pendence of the United States of America, William Samp- son of the said district, hath deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the words following, to wit: #

MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM SAMPSON; Including particulars of his adventures in various parts of Europe; his confinement in the dungeons of the inquisition in Lisbon, &c. &c. several original letters, being his cor- respondence with the ministers of state in Great-Britain and Portugal; a short sketch of the history of Ireland, particularly as it respects the spirit of British domination in that country,. $nd' ti Tew observations on the state of manners, 5&e, iik/XmeBcai • 'h\ Conformity to. the act of the Congress of the United States,* eHtitletj? «/;Ah*«ct for the encouragement of learning by secm«ni^tlnVcopjes of maps, charts, and books, to the authors \h\u\ \pr(fflrietor? of such copies during the times therein mentioned,' and "extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etcliing historical and other prints."

EDWARD DUNSCOMB, Clfrk of the District of New-York.

ADVERTISEMENT,

Feeling a deep interest in the affairs of that ill-fated country, whose history, at an interesting period, is here fully and faithfully portrayed; seeing our market entirely exhausted of so valuable an acquisition as the following work; hearing the great demand of my fellow-citizens for another edition; regretting that their just demand had not been sooner gratified, and sympathizing with the unfortu- nate author, on whom the iron hand of despotic power has heavily pressed, the publisher is induced to offer this new and revised edition of the Memoirs of Sampson to a liberal and enlightened public, fully confident that the .sunshine of their approbation will bask upon him. Few Works, pos- sessing the merit of the following pages, have ' ev£?, in this enlightened country, been permitted to slumber in the arms of obscurity, and never to sink into the vortex' of tvfihVion.

"While, therefore, the people are capable of distinguishing "where real merit lies;" while they possess commiserating hearts, and can shed the sympathizing tear over the suffer- ings of poor unhappy Erin, bowed down by the galling yoke of oppression; while historic facts worthy of record can in- terest; while smoothe flowing periods and elegant diction have a tendency to please; while severe and pungent satire will amuse, this work will meet with ample patronage. The history of Ireland during that period when tyranny and des- potism with blood-stained hands were stalking, with gigant- ic strides, o'er her pleasant hills and fertile tallies, cannol

IV ADVERTISEMENT,

fail to be interesting — particularly interesting to Americans, who but yesterday escaped the chains that now manacle Ire- land, and a worse than Egyptian bondage. Like Daniel, we have escaped the devouring jaws of the lion, and like the sacred three of old, we have been delivered from the fiery fur- nace unscorched. Let our prayers then be offered for the safe deliverance of our brethren, "born in the country of affliction,' ' whose "days are days of sorrow," who are yet in the power of the British lion, and who may yet be devoured in the

flames of despotism.

1 PUBLISHER.

... «••»■*

• • • •

: .•;. • • —

PREFACE.

TO THE AMERICAN PUBLIC*

THE author, without apology, submits his Memoirs to that nation where truth can be uttered without alloy.

To the idolaters of English power, some of whom have motives too strong for truth to shake, he is aware that his work will not be pleasing. But he knows that the genius of America is not that of persecution; and that although for ten years past, terror and corruption have been able to si- lence the vindicators of the Irish cause; yet it neads but to be known to find favor with the just and generous of every

> 9 j

country.

The printing presses of Ireland have been' lawlessly de- molished, and all who dare write or speyk the truth;. 'have been hunted to destruction; whilst scouts and hirelings, paid from the Irish treasury, have been maintained in the re- motest regions of the earth, to slander Ireland; yet all this has not been sufficient to reconcile the minds of thinking people to the idea of a nation of rebels, or a kingdom out of a king's peace. For if a government be so manifestly against a people, and a people so manifestly against a government: if a kingdom must be put out of the king's peace, in order that a faction may monopolize royal power, it maybe fairly asked, on which side is rebellion? and the answer arises spontane- ously in the breast of a free American.

Vl PREFACE.

Some of the most respectable citizens of America have ac- knowledged to the author, that they had been deceived respecting Ireland, and were desirous of knowing the state of things; and this was a principal motive for giving to the public his Memoirs, which, from certain principles of mod- eration, he had so long suppressed.

The author has, with no less frankness avowed, that the unremitting and reiterated calumnies levelled against the American reputation, had not been without effect upon his mind, until it was his fortune to be corrected by the happiest experiment: till in that country, where, it was written,] that the men were sorded, the women withered, the institutions vicious, and religion unknown; he found exalted hospitality, the charms of female society elegant and attractive; institu- tions which on the other side the Atlantic pass for wild and visionary theories, reduced to practice, and unexampled pros- ferity growing beneath: their shade: till he found religion un- ffulfiejl-by political cratfVor violent dominion, inculcated with purity* audexercjsjjl in charily: till lie found in the benigni- ty of tber^EitCir/^long lost profession, and in the liberali- ty of-tlietAR. friends worthv of his esteem.

To -such- a pfeOpIe he" addresses himself with confidence. The faint sketch his Memoirs present of the calamities of his country, may serve at least to awake attention to a subject too little known for the common interest of humanity. The rest will follow; and the time may yet come, when the genius of Columbia, exulting inheryoung flight, and soaringonher eagle-wing, in quest of subjects equal to her swelling concep- tions, may find them in the courage, the constancy, and un-

t See Moore, Weld, Parkinson, Davis, The Stranger, and aK the rest.

PREFACE. Vlf

deserved calamities of slandered Ireland. Till then, let it be kept in mind, that the same writers and runners, hired to traduce Irishmen in America, are those who traduce Ameri- ca in Europe; with this only difference, that in all their clumsy sarcasms, the spirit of the jest is, to call the Ameri. can Yankee, and the Irishman Paddy.

•

CONTENTS,

1ETTER I. PAGE

Treason— Carlisle Gaol — Bridewell, 18

LETTER II.

M'Dougall — Trevor-— Torture — JYotice of Trial 24

LETTER III.

Lord Cornwallis — Sir Ralph Abererombie, 31

LETTER IV.

Negotiation — Byrne — Bond, 36

LETTER V,

Case stated— Union, 40

LETTER VI,

Treachery, N 49

LETTER VII.

Chicane— 'Lie by Act of Parliament — Lord Castlereagh, S3

LETTER VIII.

Lovely Peggy— Lovely Mary — Shipwreck, 59

LETTER IX.

Ancient Britws—Duke of Portlaiid, 64

Advertisement to the Reader, 71

LETTER X.

Mr. Wickham— Colonel Edwards— 'Oporto, 89

LETTER XI.

Taken prisoner— Released— Liberality — Mr, NasJir— Abbe, Morand, 92

B

X CONTENTS.

LETTER XII. PAGE

Again imprisoned — Palace — Prison — Corrigidor—^

King — Queen — Prince — Variety, 96

LETTER XIIK

Report of my Trial — Mr. Sealy, 99

LETTER XIV.

Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Commedians, Friars, SfC 102

LETTER XV.

Mr. Tfalpole — A Trick — Ministers of Police — Cones- pondence — Sweet-Meats, 120

LETTER XVI.

An Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intendente, 123

LETTER XVII.

Tried again — Acquitted — Attempt at Suicide — My dan- ger— Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears — Antonio — Italian nobleman — Lady — Cruel perfidy — English threats — Gibraltar prison ship — Another Gaol, 126

LETTER XVIII.

Nocturnal Migration — Other prison — More nauseous Dungeons — Hunting by candle-light, 133

LETTER XIX.

Not quite so bad — Music — 'Amours of various Colours — Delays of State — The Saints — Something like Tom Pipes, 135

LETTER XX.

Better — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect — Ladies' Eyes — Boiv and Arrows — Bad shot — Hopes still, 137

LETTER XXI.

The Neighbours — Infernal Dungeons, 142

CONTENTS. XI

LETTER XXII. PAGE

JCid-napped — Tra nsported — Our Jdieus — State-affairs —Protest, 145

LETTER XXIII.

Voyage — Discovery — French Privateer — English Frig- ate— Dangers — Difficulties — Distresses— Landing in Spain, 150

LETTER XXIV.

Again threatened with Jlrrestation — Remonstrance — Municipality of Bayonne — Jlrrete motive — Arrival in France. 156

LETTER XXV.

Bordeaux — Bureau Central — Reflections on Party Spirit — New Embarrassments — Mr. Forster — Special Let- ter of Exchange — My Protest — Its effect, 161

LETTER XXVI.

Mrs. Sampson — Correspondence — Mr. Merry, 167

LETTER XXVII,

Peace — Cormvallis — Colonel Littlehales — My Memorial — Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecu- tion-— Mrs. Sanson — Her arrival in France with her Children, 178

LETTER XXVIII.

Of the Terror in France, 189

LETTER XXIX.

Of the Character of the French Nation, 196

LETTER XXX.

Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Correspondence—- Mr. Thornton — Lord Hawksbury — Mr. Fox, 202

5lI1 CONTENTS.

LETTER XXXI. PAGE

Embarkation — Danger — Journey to London — Lord Spencer — Once more imprisoned — Mr. Sparrow — Governor Picton, 225

Hope and the Exile — a V\ Isioii, 239

LETTER XXXII.

Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — A brief Review of Irish History, 248

LETTER XXXIII.

Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our Eng- lish Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of the Dispute, 262

LETTER XXXIV.

Of the Reformation, 278

LETTER XXXV.

Theobald Wolfe Tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the Crimes of the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with England — Irishmen with Irishmen, 510

LETTER XXXVI.

The Irish Emigrant, 330

A Letter to Lord Spencer. 338

CONTENTS OF THE APPENDIX,

no. i. Page

Informers hanged by their Employers, 345

NO. II.

Massacres of the Currah of Kildare and Glenco, 348

NO. III.

Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone, 352

NO. IV.

Resolutions of the Armagh Magistrates, and the atroci- ties of the Peep-qf-day-Boys, 357

NO. v.

Lord Castlereaghf 362

NO. VI.

Passport of the Duke of Portland, 364

NO. VII.

Petition of the freeholders of Down, presented by Mr. Fox to his Majesty, 265

NO, VIII,

Apology, 367

m APPENDIX.

no. ix. Page

Lei ten of informers to their employers. 367

NO. X.

Belfast Resolutions, 373

NO. XI.

Humanity punished with Death, 376

NO. XII.

Certificate of Mr. Laf argue, 379

NO. XIII.

Jirrete Moiive, 380

NO. XIV.

Interrogatories, 382

NO. XV.

Passport from Parts to Hamburg, 390

NO. XVI.

Matilda Tone, 391

Facts, in continuation of the appendix, 365

Tests and signs of the Orangemen, ibid.

Declarations ami Tests of United Irishmen, 398

Extracts from Lord Moira's Speech, 399

Committee of Elders, 404

The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 406

Moll Doyle, 407

Proclamation of a Rebel General, 408

Dying Declaration of William Orr, 409

Protestant Fanaticism, 412

Hucnlege, 413

APPENDIX. XY

Page

General Murphey, 413

Irish Law, 414

Mr. Walter Devereaux 415

Michael Egan, 416

Bloody Executions at Wexford , 418

Cannibal, 420

Bloody Parson, 422

Walking Gallows, 423

Tom the Devil, 425

jBZood*/ Friday, 428

Female Wretchedness9 429

.Mm/ Smith, 430

Female Chastity f 431

MEMOIRS, &c

LETTER I.

Treason-~Carlisle Gaol — Bridewell.

AT length, my friend, I take up my pen to comply with your desire, and to give you the history of my extraor- dinary persecution. From it you may form a judgment of that system of government which drove the unhappy people of Ireland to revolt. But to judge rightly, you should also he aware, that of many thousand such cases, mine is one o? the most mild.

Before any open violence was ' attempted against me. I had been often distantly threatened, and indirectly insulted: And particularly on the 12th. of February 1798, I was charged with high treason by the Alderman of Dublin. This charge of high treason was upon the following ground: The printer of the paper called the Press, Mr. Stockdale, was imprisoned under an arbitrary sentence for breach of privilege in not answering to interrogatories tending to con- vict him before a parliamentary committee. And whilst he was lying in gaol, his house was beset by a large military force; and his afflicted wife was thrown into an agony of terror. This scene was in my neighborhood. I was the counsel of the husband, and whilst at dinner received a re»

n

18 MEMOIRS 01

quest from Mrs. Stockdale to go and confer with the higJ* sheriff on her behalf, and to depreciate the vengeance that was threatened. I found the house crouded with mili- tary, who threatened to demolish it, as other printers hous- es had been demolished. The types and printing imple- ments were destroyed, and the unfortunate woman thrown into an agony of terror. After interceding with the sheriff, he conducted me to the door. Mrs. Stockdale's sister hav- ing picked up a parcel of ball cartridges, deposited by the sheriff himself, or by his consent, on a former occasion, for Ihe purposes of defence against a mob, became fearful that they might be made a pretext for a massacre, took advan- tage of the door being opened for me, to carry them away* They broke through her apron, and scattered upon the flaggs. The whole sergeant's guard crying out, that they had found the croppic's pills, pursued me at full speed. I turned short to meet them, and by that means checked their fury. I was immediately surrounded by near twenty bay- onets presented to my body, each soldier encouraging his comrade to run me through. I assumed an air of confidence and security beyond what I felt, and appealed to the ser- geant, who, after some rough parley, led me back a prison- er to his officers within. He, the lady, the sergeant, and some others, underwent an examination, and at two in the morning, I was told by alderman Carleton, that there was a charge against me amounting to high treason; but that if I would be upon honor to present myself to him on the follow- ing day, he would enlarge me, I went the next morning, ac- companied by Mr. Montgomery, Mr. Hill Wilson, and the honorable John Leeson, to demand some explanation; the alderman was denied, and there the matter finished as ife began, in buffoonery.

a

WJX1IAM SAMPSON. 19

I learned afterwards, that the investment and occupation of Mr. Stockdale's house, was to prevent an intended pub- lication in the "Press," against lord Clare, from circu- lating* That side of the news-paper, however, which con- tained it, had already been printed, and the soldiers who made prize of the impression, circulated it rapidly at a great advanced price.

But the event from which my present persecution flow, in an uninterrupted series, was an attempt to make me a prisoner on the 12th. of March, of the same year; a day famous for the arrest of many men distinguished, at that time by their qualities, but more so by their sufferings since.

• This was considered by my enemies a good occasion to repair the blunders of the former day; and I was, without the slightest pretext, included in the list of common pro- scription.

It was probably hoped, that in the seizure of my papers, something might be found to justify so violent a measure; but no such ground appearing, more scandalous means were resorted to; and an officer of the C avail militia, Mi*. Colclough, was found so unworthy of his profession, as to be the instrument of that scandal, and to propagate that lie had found a commission naming me a French general. And a noble lord (Glentworth) did not scruple to proclaim the same falsehood to the young gentlemen of the college corps of yeomanry on their parade. Such was the foul commencement of that abomination, of which you must have patience to listen to the detail.

Being from home when the house I inhabited was beset, my first care was to retire to a place of safety, from whence I wrote a letter to the lord lieutenant, earl Cambdcn, which

30 M£>lOiKS OF

was put into his hand by general Crosbic; and another to The attorney-general, Mr. Wolfe, which was delivered by the honorable John Lceson. In each of these letters I offer- ed to surrender instantly, on the promise of receiving a trial.

j>7o answer being given, I remained in Dublin until the 16th of April, when the terror became so atrocious that humanity could no longer endure it. In every quarter of the metropolis, the shrieks and groans of the tortured were to be heard, and that, through all hours of the day and night. Men were taken at random without process or accusation, and tortured at the pleasure of the lowest dregs of the community. Bloody theatres were opened by these Self-constituted inquisitors, and new and unheard of ma- chines were invented for their diabolical purposes. Un- happily in every country, history is but the record of black rimes; but if ever this history comes to be fairly written, Whatever has yet been held up to the execration of man- kind, will fade before it. For it had not happened before, in any country or in any age, to inflict torture and to offer bribe at the same moment, In this bloody reign, the cow- ard and the traitor were sure of wealth and power; the brave and the loyal to suffer death or torture. The very mansion of the viceroy was peopled with salaried denoun- cers, kept in secret and led out only for purposes of death. Some of them, struck with remorse, have since published their own crimes, and some have been hanged by their employers. fSeo Appendix, JVo. I.J — Men were hung up until their tongues started from their mouths, and let down to receive fresh offers of bribe to betray their neighbor or discover against themselves. If they neither knew nor would discover any thing, these intervals of relaxation

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 21

were followed by new and more poignant inflictions. And when that courage, which is the noble attribute of my un- happy countrymen, spurned in the midst of agony at the tempter and the bribe; the nearest and the tenderest rela- tives were often brought to witness these horrors; that out of their feelings might be extorted some denunciation, true or false, which the virtue of the sufferer had withheld.

To avoid such scenes, disgraceful to the name cf man, and acted in the name of the king and British constitution, on the day abovcmentioned (the 16th of April, 1798) I em- barked in a collier ship for Whitehaven, and was on the following morning arrested on my landing, pursuant to general orders issued to the officers of that port. From hence I was sent to the county gaol of Carlisle, merely be- cause I refused to tell my name; and my servant, John Russel, of whom I shall have too much reason to speak hereafter, was detained a prisoner in the workhouse at Whitehaven,

Though I never did, nor never shall fear my enemies, I did not think it wise to brave them at this moment, seeing they had the power of putting me in gaol, from whence the law had no power to set me free; and I therefore passed by the name of Williams, being nearly my name by baptism. Many attempts were made upon my servant to disclose my name;, but he refused; and the newspapers of the place were mean enough to publish that he had betrayed me. Happi- ly torture had not then, nor has yet been introduced into England: that may be referred for the future; and those means which have succeeded to overturn the ancient con- stitutions of Ireland, bribery, corruption, division, torture, religion, and military executions, may much sooner than many think, be employed to clear away the ruins of British

MEMOIRS or

:riy. And the Irish may, in their turn, be led over to England to repay the benefits they have received.

Whilst in Carlisle, I obtained leave from the magistrates and gaoler, to write to the duke of Portland, then secretary of state, requesting earnestly to be sent to trial, if any one had been impudent enough to charge me with any crime. Or, if that justice was not granted, that I might rather re- main where I was, than to be again forced amidst the hor- rors which raged in my own country. But neither the one nor the other of these requests were listened to, and I was 6eni bark again to Dublin, with my servant, where we landed on the 5th of May.

It is scarcely worth while to mention the vexations I experienced in Carlisle, they arc so eclipsed by the horrors which were to follow. The gaoler, Mr. Wilson, was by profession a butcher. The moment I saw his face, I re- collected having been present in the court of king's bench, during my attendance as a student, when he was sentenced to two yeai*s imprisonment for having kidnapped an old man, and married him by force to a woman, his accomplice. This sentence he had strictly undergone, and so far that fault was expiated; and he was now for his services at elec- tions for members of parliament, under the special protec- tion of lord Lonsdale, named gaolor of the county prison. Such was the man who celebrated his clemency in accept- ing of payment for not putting me in irons; and who, when I was with difficulty allowed a bed to repose myself upon, insisted upon sharing it with me. One messenger came from London, another from Dublin; and, so averse was the spirit of the people of that country to such proceedings, that the messengers quarters were surrounded by guards: pa< !es went round the city, and I could scarcely prevent my

WflXIAM SAMPSON.

rescue. Such was the beginning of that persecution you have desired me to relate so circumstantially.

I was, upon landing in Dublin, taken to the apartment* Mr. Coke, as it was told me, to be examined. I was lor::ii up some hours, but this gentleman did not tliink proper to examine me; and he judged well: perhaps, upon examining himself, he thought it best not to examine me.

From hence I was sent under a guard to the Castle tav- ern, where night and day two centinels were placed in my room. From these centinels I learned to what atrocious length the brutal licentiousness of the military had been en- couraged. A young man of the North Cork militia, whom I had, by civilities, drawn into conversation, frankly re- gretted the free quarters in Kildare, where he said, that amongst other advantages, they had their will of the meii?s wives and daughters. I asked hiraj if his officers permitted that? and he answered, by a story of one who had ordered a farmer, during the time of the free quarters, to bring him his daughter in four and twenty hours, under pain of having his house burned. The young girl had been removed to a neighbouring parish. The father would not be the instru ment of his daughter's pollution. And this young soldier assured me, he had been one, who, by his officer's com? mand, had burned the house of the father. And this was called loyalty to the king and British constitution; and now this crime, with a million of others, is indemnified by law, Whilst I, who would rather die than countenance such atrocity, am, without enquiry, dungeoned, proclaimed, pur- sued, and exiled. And still, great as my wrongs are, they are but as shadows of those of thousands of my countrymen*

On the 7th of May, I was taken with a long procession cf prisoners, all strangers to me, to bridewell, where I \f

24 MEMOIRS OF

doomed to suffer, what honest men must ever expect, when in the power of those whose crimes they have opposed. In bridewell I was locked up in dismal solitude for many months.

I cannot help mentioning, before I go further, the extra~ ordinary appearance of Mr.Cooke's office in the Castle. It was full of those arms which had been at different times and in various parts of the country, wrested from the hands of 'he unfortunate peasants. They were chiefly pikes of a most rude workmanship, and forms the most grotesque: green crooked sticks cut out of the hedges with long spikes, nails, knives, or scythe blades fastened on the end of them, very emblematical of the poverty and desperation of these unhappy warriors; and shewing, in a strong light, the won- derful effects of despair, and the courage it inspires. Never did human eyes behold so curious an armory as this secretary's office.

XETTETl II.

JPLougall — Trevor — Torture — Notice of Trial,

THE first occurrence in bridewell which gave me pleasure, was a notice of trial, served upon me in due form. I thought my enemies now committed past retreat, and I vainry anticipated the triumph I should have in their con- frontation and confusion. I feared neither corrupt judges, packed juries, hired witnesses, treacherous advocates, nor terror-struck friends. I was all-sufficient for myself against such hosts. I had no need of defence, but had much of ac- cusation to bring forth. I had committed no murders nor

WILLIAM SAMPSON. y„-

treasons. I had burned no houses, nor tortured no free men. I asked no absolution in acts of parliament, passed in one sesion, to indemnify the crimes of the preceding one, I had legally and loyally defended the acknowledged rights of my countrymen. I had opposed myself with honest firmness to the crimes of arson, treason, murder, and tor- ture; and rather than my countrywomen should be deflow- ered, I was ready, as it was my duty, to defend them with my life. I had done more; for when the boiling indigna- tion of the people pointed to self-preservation, through in- dividual retaliation, I had spent sleepless nights to sa(/e the lives of those who, after so many years of vengeance, seem still to hunt for mine. But think not, my friend, that I should ever condescend to make a merit of this to those despicable men. The principal of my actions was too pure to be in any way connected with their degraded persons.

During the time that I was locked up in secret, my ser- vant had found protection in the house and service of Mr. and Mrs. Leeson, with the friendly condition of restoring him to me as soon as I should be set free. He was allowed to come at times for my linen, and other necessary commis- sions, under the bars of my window; but only got leave to speak to me in the presence of the keeper, or the sergeant oi' the guard. Upon receiving the notice of trial, I sent him with the good news to Mr. Vincent, an attorney connected by marriage with my family, to request this gentleman to come and consult with me upon the necessary steps towards justifying myself, and confounding my accusers, if any should dare to appear against me. But unhappily there was no thought of trying me, as you will see by the atro- cious result of this insolent mockery of justice. Mr. Vin- ceiit, pursuant to my req lest, wrote in the ordinary course;,

86 memoirs or

to the secretary, Mr. Cooke, who seemed now to have usurped all civil jurisdiction in such cases, for leave to coine to me, and received for answer, a refusal. That I might he apprised of this, for he dared not now come him- self, even in sight of my prison, he copied Mr. Cooke's note, and sent it open, by my servant John, who delivered it to be read by the gaoler; and afterwards it was hand- ed up through the iron bars of my window, upon the point of the sergeant's halberd. Such was the crime for which this unfortunate young man was pursued, dragged forci- bly from the house of Mr. Leeson to the barracks of the Cavan militia, where he was put to the cruelist torture. One executioner was brought to relieve another: his back and shoulders were first mangled, and then the rest of his body bared, and wantonly lacerated. This done, he was thrown raw and smarting upon the boards of the guard- room, with a threat of a similar execution on the following day, which he certainly must have undergone, had not Mr. Leeson made interest to save him, a favor which he with difficulty obtained. Though the bringing of the letter touching the subject of my trial, was the pretext for this in- famous deed; yet the farther object appeared during the execution: for, as often as the torture was suspended, the young man was exhorted to save himself by some denuncia- tion of Ms master. Such was the end of that famous notice of trial, of which, from that day forward, I could never hear a word.

From this faithful servant himself, I never should have heard of this transaction, so generously anxious was he to spare me such vexation in the then dangerous state of my health. But I had a doctor who was not so tender, and ^ho seemed to take pleasure in announcing it to me. As

WILLIAM SAMPSON. g?

this doctor made part of the system, it is right I should say a few words of him.

Being deeply affected in my lungs, I had requested to see some physician in whom I could confide. But, instead of that indulgence, there was sent me a certain Mr. Trevor, from the military hospital, a surgeon and apothecary; but whose chief practice, one would suppose, had heen to stand by at military executions, and prescribe how much a pa- tient could be made to suffer short of the crime of murder. Amongst civilized men a doctor is a friend, bringing to suffering humanity the consolations it requires, and com- forting even when he cannot cure. But such a person would have 01 suited the views of the governing faction. This man's first care was not for my health. His first or- dinance was, that another bolt should be added to those already sufficiently massive on my door, and to threaten the turnkey with flogging if he did not keep me close. How far the turnkey deserved to be whipped for his tco much tenderness, you will judge from his history, which I had from his own mouth. As he was another part of the system, it may be worth relating.

His name was John M'Dougall. He was a native of the county of Down, and having been formerly, daring the time of the hearts of steel, charged with various crimes, amongst which was the burning of Mr. Waddel Cunning- ham's house; and his name proclaimed in the news-papers with a reward for his arrest; he took advantage of his re- ligion to save him from the fate that threatened him. For, about that time, Mr. George Robert Fitzgerald had adver- tised for Protestants to replace the Papist tenantry on his lands, as these latter being proscribed for their religion's ^ake, and deprived of the privilege of voting for members

28 MEMOIRS Or

bf parliament, were unserviceable to his ambition, and as such to be turned off his estate. Every body knows by what crime that unhappy man. endowed with the joint ad- vantages of birth, talents, and education, forfeited his life; and of the fate that he, with his principal accomplice, Breaknoch, was sentenced to undergo. John M'Dougall* who had been too near a witness of the death of Mr. Patrick Randall M'Donnell, was however reserved for other desti- nies. Ke once more found it not imprudent to emigrate, and for this time took refuge in Scotland, where, having unfortunately knocked out the eye of a man, he, in order to wash out this offence, in his zeal for his king and coun- try, and to merit the rewards given to those who forward the recruiting service, swore two of his prosecutors to be deserters from the army, and himself enlisted in the Dum= barton Fencibles, to fight in the great cause of the throne and the altar.

On his return from Guernsey, where he had been some years in garrison, he found, in Ireland, in a congenial ad- ministration, the road to new promotion, and was selected from his corps as the fittest for the office he now held*

You will, perhaps, be curious to know how so finished a politician could have been so much off his guard, as to make these confessions to a prisoner under his care. I, myself was much surprised at it; but it seems wisely or- dained, that seme fatality should ever hang upon the rear of enormity, and detection almost ever follow guilt, though often too late for this world's justice. What led to these discoveries was as follows:

Colonel Maxwell, of the same militia regiment, in whose barracks, and by whose soldiers my servant had been tor= *ared; and one of whose officers (Mr. Colclough) had af-

WIIXIAM SAMP60W. eg

firmed, that he had found, amongst my papers, a French general's commission: this colonel, son of a right reverend bishop, had, about this time, made a motion in the House of Commons, that the prisoners in the civil custody should be taken out and dealt with militarily. I believe, without exaggeration, that this was no less than to say, that we should all be murdered. And it was given to understand' that my life, with that of the rest of the prisoners, should be answerable for the approach of any insurgents towards the prison.

The manner in which the terrorists of the House of Com- mons had received this motion, made it plain how many ready instruments there were for such a crime: I therefore attempted to engage Mr. M'Dougall, by his interest, not to take part in such a murder; and I was fortunate enough to surmount every scruple, save the sense of danger to him- self, and the additional difficulty of his escaping after being so long proclaimed with a reward for his arrest, and a description published of his person. Thus it was, that bal- ancing between avarice and fear, he deigned to make me this revelation, and favor me with his confidence.

I will, however, before I pass this man of confidence by give you another characteristic anecdote of him: One day, after a long and rigorous seclusion* he proposed to let me* through special indulgence, go down to amuse myself with another prisoner in the court-yard. So new, and so grati- fying a permission, was not to be refused. He turned the key in the outer door to prevent surprise, and a day or two afterwards I missed a number of guineas from a sack which I had always left loose. Upon missing this money I applied to doctor Trevor, who, instead of doctor, was now iu the character of a military inspector of these strong

StJ MEMOIRS <»l

places, and a cotfnterchecfc upon the humanity of the gaol- ers. A search was promptly and peremptorily decreed. John M'Dougall was taken by surprize; and in his first flurry, discovered that he had twelve guineas stitched up in the waistband of his breeches; but he said it would soon appear clear to every body that they were not my guineas, but his own, as they would he found mildewed, being the same he had carried with him over the seas to the island of Guernsey, and from thence home again. This asser- tion, whatever pretensions he might have as an alchemist, proved him but a bad chemist. But there was another stumbling block. Besides that the guineas were all bright and shining, many of them were coined after the time of his sailing for Guernsey: and besides, they were wrapped up in a morsel of a Dublin journal, which he had brought for me the very day on which he had so kindly let me into the court to take the air. However, he now had time to rally his ingenuity, and deliberately accounted for the whole, by saying that his wife had some days ago sold a web of linen to a captain in the regiment, now absent upon duty: that upon the receipt of the price of it, they had counted their common stock together, made a new reparti- tion, and that he had stitched up what fell to his share, as was his military custom, in the waistband of his breeches. I proposed for common satisfaction, that the captain should be written to; but it was not done, and Mr. M* Dougall, furbishing up his musket, told one of the prison- ers that he would revenge his reputation upon me. I knew that if he was tolerated for robbing me, he would be more than indemnified for murdering me: I therefore proposed peace and the statu quo, which was accepted,, But such was the doctor, and such the guardian; the only

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 31

two beings of my species with whom I was permitted to converse, and that only when the one came his daily rounds as a spy, to see that I received no indulgence; and the other opened my door to give me what was necessary to my existence.

Once, indeed, there came three gentlemen deputed from the grand jury, to visit me with the other prisoners under notice of trial. They asked me, if I had any thing to repre- sent to the court then sitting, or to the jury? I told them that my health was bad; that I requested to be tried, and was ready at a moment's warning. For this intrusion, I myself heard the doctor threaten these grand jurors, and reprove the keeper: For he said, that Mr. Cooke alone had the power to dispose of us. I never heard that these grand ju- rors were whipped: — if they were not, I hold them for % Inmate.

LETTER III.

Lord Cornwallis — Sir Ralph Mercrombie..

AT length, to pass over a world of odious details, came the marquis Cornwallis, bringing words of peace,. Civil and military licentiousness were now at their height. You must have heard that when the gallant and' respected Abercrombie, since dead in the field of honor, was sent to command the army in Ireland, he found it impossible to make head against so much crime and anarchy. [The combined efforts of Clare and Carhampton, and the weakness of what they called a strong government, had driven the whole peor

fl£J MEMOIRS 0¥

pic to rebellion, and made enemies of almost every honest man. The old and respectable magistrates, men of proper- ty and reputation in the country, were struck out of the commission of the peace, and foreign mercenaries put into it. The population of whole districts were swept without remorse on board tenders and prison ships; and fathers of families torn from their poor and peaceful cottages, to be sent on board the British fleet, where the tale of their bitter and just complaint was to form the leaven of that fearful event so aptly called Carhampton's mutiny; and wliich was like to have cost the king of England more than the violence of a million of such men, with their strong governments, could ever do him good. Weak men, they had not minds to conceive that the only strong government is that which is strong in the coiifidence and security of the people governed. They called these crimes, dictated by their own petty pas- sions, by the name of "vigor beyond the law." So Robbes- piere called his. In short, he and his associates seemed in every thing, except sincerity, to be their model. The dif- ference was, that his cruelties fell chiefly on the rich and great; theirs afflicted the humble and the poor. The elo. quence of Europe has been exhausted in reprobating his crimes. The mention of theirs, is still treason and death. Alas! the advocates of the poor are few, and their reward is ruin. To celebrate successful villany, is the sure road to gain and to preferment. Had I been capable of stooping to such baseness, instead of opposing myself to the unparallel- ed oppression of my countrymen, those who have persecuted me, know, in their own hearts, how open the road of fortune was to me. But nature and a virtuous education had made me differently, and if my conduct has been criminal, I own I am incorrigible; for, with all the time and reason I have

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 33

had for sober reflection, I cannot see in what essential cir- cumstance I could better discharge the duties I owe to God? to my fellow creatures and to myself. Prudence might pos- sibly, were the same events to recur, dictate some safer course; but virtue could offer nothing more pure. Nor have I been the dupe of any deceitful hope or passion. I saw but too clearly from the first, how, in such a state of things, in attempting to do good, one must expose one's self to mis- chief; and it is to that settled principle I owe the courage which has been my safety and consolation through so many trials. If it were otherwise, and that I could suppose my conduct criminal, I know of but one way of future remedy for all such evils; that is, that we should hereafter educate our offspring in the contempt of what is generous and honest,. You have children, my friend, and so have I, Shall we cal- culate, that the times to come, will always resemble those we have seen? Shall we, judging by such example, train up their tender minds in calculating profligacy? Shall we sti- fle, in its birth, every generous feeling of compassion and humanity? Shall we teach them to mock at the love of their country? Shall we teach them the cant and outward form of a pure religion of equality and justice; but at the same time inure them to plunder and to murder in ili(^ name of that religion? Shall we give them early lessons, that restraints are only for the vulgar and that he, who does not prefer his avarice and ambition to every other consideration, is a fool; and if he is inflexible against se- duction, he should be hunted as a traitor? — Were these con- siderations rigorously pursued, how far would they not lead? further, I fear, than is for your happiness or mine. Let us rather encourage the hope, that crime will not al? ways triumph, and justice may yet return: that our off-

u4 MEMOIRS 0*

spring may be honest, and yet be happy .And let me fbr the present resume the thread of this extraordinary narrative.

I have mentioned, that Sir Ralph Abercrombie had beea obliged to abdicate the command of the army in Ireland. I am not obliged to conjecture what his reasons were. He frankly and consistently with his manly character publish- ed them in one short sentence, where he said that this fa- mous army of Carhampton "had became contemptible to its enemies, and formidable only to its friends." And true his words did prove, when the half naked peasants of a few counties of Ireland, without arms or ammunition, or any other leaders than those there was not wisdom to deprive them of, their miser y and their despair could wage war and gain victories over the most costly army of Europe.

Lord Cornwallis, something wiser than his predecessors, or at least unactuated by party spite, saw how nearly all Was lost, and formed a better plan. He shut up the houses of torture. He forbade pitched caps to be burned on men's heads. He put an end, in a great measure, to the ravish- ing of women and the killing or whipping of Irishmen for sport. He interdicted half hanging to extort confessions. He put a stop to much of the petty-fogging and chicaning part of the administration; and he offered pardon and pro- tection to such as would lay down their arms and return to their homes. But unhappily, whether it was that the fac- tion were too strong for him and wished to blacken him as faithless and disloyal, and to gratify their jealousy by thwarting his measures, certain it is that many had n6 sooner laid down their arms, than they were murdered de- fenceless, and in one instance particularly, the massacre of Glencoe was acted over on the Curragh of Kildare. — ( See Appendix, JVo. II. J

WILLIAM SAMPS OS. 35

It was but justice, however, to this nobleman, to relate tne instance in which he asserted his dignity with true energy. Two yeomen, so they called themselves, had gone to the house of a poor widow; whilst one guarded the door, the other went in, dragged a young boy from his sick bed, and in contempt even of a protection which he had re- ceived from the government, shot the son in the arms of his mother. The culprit, on his trial, avowed the fact; and au- Variously called upon several officers to justify him under military orders, and to depose upon their oaths that what he did was his duty. And in their 9ense so it certainly was, and he was readily acquitted. But lord Cornwallis saw it differently, and ordered his disapprobation of the sen- tence to be read in open court, to lord Enniskellen, the presi- dent, and the other officers composing the court martial; dis- qualifying them forever from setting on any other court martial, and the yeoman from ever serving the king. And this, as it was strongly stated, in his order published offi- cially in the news-papers, "for having acquitted, without any pretext, a man guilty upon the clearest and uncontradicted evidence of a wilful and deliberate murder." Perhaps you Will wonder that I should state this fact as any thing extra- ordinary: you will be surprised, possibly, to hear that any Country, where the British constitution was professed, should be in such a state of wretchedness, that an act of justice, no stronger than the punishment of murder and mis- prison by a reprimand, should excite furious animosity on one side, and transports of admiration on the other. But so long had the reign of terror lasted, that the very men- tion of bringing any of this faction to justice, was looked upon by the rest, as an insolent encroachment upon their murderous prerogatives. Nor would this story have been

J'o 'MEMOIRS O*

ever known either to lord Cornwall's or the public, more than to thousands of others buried with the victims in the grave, had it not been for the accidental protection afford- ed to this poor widow, by a lady of fortune and fashion— Mrs-. Latouche.

LETTER IV.

Negotiation — Byrne — Bond.

AFTER several months of cruel and secret im- prisonment, a Mr. Crawford, an attorney, was first 'per- mitted to break the spell of solitude, and enter my prison door. This gentleman had been employed in the defence of Mr. Bond, Mr. Byrne, and others, for whose fate I was much interested, and on this title introduced himself to my confidence. lie descanted with ability upon the excellent views of the Marquis Cornwallis, so unlike his predeces- sors. He drew a strong picture of the unhappy state of the country, and proposed to me, as to one free from even the pretence of accusation; but one, he was pleased to say, whose character might inspire confidence, to become the instrument of a pacification, and to promote a reconcilia- tion between the government and the state prisoners; which could not fail, he said, to end in the general good of the people and save the lives of many thousands.

I, though neither chief nor leader of a party, nor in any way connected with responsibility, was yet too warm a friend to the peace and union of my country, and to gene-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 37

ral humanity, to be inaccessible to such a proposition. But I little thought my compliance was to lead to all the injuries and atrocities I have since been loaded with. I confined myself, however, to advising this gentleman ra- ther to apply to some person more marking in politics than me, who might have more lead among the people, and more knowledge of their feelings or intentions. Mr. Crawford upon this obtained leave for Mr. Arthur O'Connor, then in secret in another part of the prison, to come to speak with me, which he did at my request; but at this time re- fused taking any step. Nor did I ever meddle further in the business, than to recommend conciliation between the parties, and to intreat my kinsman, Mr. Dobbs, a member of the then parliament, to accept the office of mediator, merely because I knew him to be of a mild and benevolent disposition, and this was the actual commencement of that treaty so remarkable in itself and so strangely violated.

It is foreign to my purpose to say by what steps the ne- gotiation proceeded; further than as a well-wisher to peace and humanity, it was considered by nobody to be any con- cern of mine. But I was for some time induced by appear- ances to suppose, that good faith and good understanding prevailed between the ministers and the people: and the day I was told was fixed for ?ny enlargement, as one against whom no charge had ever been made. Upwards of seventy prisoners, against whom no evidence appeared, had signed an act of self-devotion, and peace was likely to be the result. There was so much courtesy, that I was more than once permitted to go out of the prison, where I had before been locked up in rigorous solitude, and to re- turn on my word. And Mr. O'Conner, now in the Fort St. George in Scotland, a close prisoner, was once on his

38 3IEM0IRS OF

return from Kilmainham, where he had gone upon parole to sec his fellow prisoners and colleagues in that negotia- tion, challenged by the centinels, and refused admission. On one side, it appears by this, there was as much good faith as there has been cruel perfidy on the other.

One day, as we were all together in the yard of the bridewell, it was announced that the scaffold was erected for the execution of William Byrne; the preservation of whose life had been a principal motive for the signature of many cf the prisoners to the agreement abovementioned. We were all thunderstruck by such a piece of news: but I was the more affected when I learned, that Lord Cornwal- lis had been desirous of remitting the execution, but that the faction had overborne him in the council, by arguing that the agreement was ineffective, inasmuch as Mr. 0' Conner nor I had not signed it. In that moment I sent to Mr. Dobbs, to intreat that he would hurry to the castle, and offer my signature, on condition that this execution should be suspended; but unhappily it was too late. The terror- ists had surrounded the scaffold, and that brave youth was hurried, undaunted, to his death! This deed filled me with horror. I had never known any thing of William Byrne, until I had found means of conversing with him in our common prison. Through favor of Mr. Bush, once my friend, and then employed as his counsel, he obtained leave to consult with me on the subject of his trial; and certain- ly whatever can be conceived of noble courage, and pin's and perfect heroism, he possessed. His life was offered him on condition that he would exculpate himself, at the expense of the reputation of the deceased lord Edward Fitzgerald; and the scorn with which he treated tins offer was truly noble. Go, says he, to the herald of that odious proposition, and tell the tempter that sent you, that I have inown no man superior to him you would calumniate, noi

WU.tI.lM SAMPS OK, 39

■

hone more base? than him who makes this offer. It is not necessary to be a partisan of lord Edward Fitzgerald, nor acquainted with the sufferings and oppressions of the un- fortunate Irish people, to feel the dignity of such a reply. One must be dead to the feelings of generosity, sacred even amongst enemies, not to be touched with it. The more so, when it is known, that this young man, who was but one and twenty years of age, was married to the woman that he loved, and had, within a few days, received a new pledge of fondness, and a new tie to life, in the birth of a first child. He had been loyally enrolled in a corps of volunteers, until the persecutions and horrors committed upon those of his persuasion, for he was of a Catholic fam- ily, drove him from the ranks of the persecutors into the arms of rebellion. Had there been men less weak, and less wicked, in the government of Ireland; or a system of less inhumanity, he, with thousands now in exile or in the grave, would have been its boast and ornament, and the foremost in virtue and in courage to defend it.

By the death of William Byrne, the work of blood seemed recommenced, and the life of Oliver Bond was next threatened. I had much friendship for this man, and great respect for his virtues. He had already suffered much from persecution, and borne it with great fortitude. He was generally esteemed for his good morals, beloved by his Mends, and respected even by his enemies. I had of- ten partaken of his hospitality, and seen him happy amidst his family. He was now under sentence of death, which he seemed himself to despise. His virtuous wife appeared to me in my prison; and though she did not venture to urge me, her silent looks were irresistible persuasion. It might depend upon my consent whether she were to-mor- row a widow or a wife. Whether her poor babes were to be restored to the smiles of a fond father, »r be fatherless.

40 MEMOIES OP

Tlic deep regret I had for the fate of Wiiliam Byrne, lushed full into my mind, and I determined to make that sacrifice which must ever please upon reflection. My had health, indeed, at that moment lessened the price I had to give; my life was entirely despaired of by my friends. Yet this friend died a few days after, unaccountably, in his prison, whilst I, after a series of unexambled persecu tion, live to tell his story and my own.

IETTEK V.

Case stated — Union.

WITH respect to the other prisoners, every one of them seemed to treat death and danger with contempt. The memorial drawn up hy three of them in their own justification and that of their cause, has already been in print, as well as the interrogatories and answers of such of them as were examined before the committee, touching the intended resistance and arming of the country. To these things I was a stranger, further than this, that I was an enemy to violation and torture; and determined on all occasions that offered to resist it, which I always openly declared. By the agreement I had signed the ministers were entitled to examine me, if they thought proper. But for the same reasons that they did not try me, the) did not examine me. They knew that it would tend, not to their advantage, but to mine. As to the alliance with France, I knew it first by the ministerial publications, and they had so often asserted it when it was not true, that I, with'many others, disbelieved it even after it was so. But I saw

Willi AM SAMPSON. 41

crimes with my own eyes, to which, to suhmit, would be degrading to the name of man, and for not submitting to which, I am now an exile.

You will expect, perhaps, some distinct accounts of these transactions; but for this, I should rather refer you to the publications where it is to be found.

A principal one is the memoir of the three state prison ers, Emmet, M'Neven, and 0?Connor.|

This statement appears full of strength and candor, and it was curious to observe at the time, that whatever merit the ministers made to the crown of their discoveries, they seemed to shrink entirely from the publication of them, whilst the prisoners insisted upon their avowals being pub- lished, as the undisguised and unstudied justification of their cause.

Much turned upon points of chronology: for, however great the causes and the feelings of general discontent were; whatever the long endured griefs of Ireland had been; whatever some individuals might have meditated., none of the persons in question, nor lord Edward Fitz- gerald, nor others of whom so much has been said, were of the united system, nor was there any military organization formed until after the summer of 1796: previous to this, the persecution of the Catholics in Armagh, and the neighbor- ing counties; the adoption and protection of the Orange- men; the passing of penal acts of such extreme severity, and the cruel execution of them; and particularly the insur- rectio?i act, which amounted in itself to as complete a revo- lution as if the king had been deposed, or had abdicated^ had all taken place. Until these times, if the British con-

t See the pieces of Irish history, lately published by 1)& William James M'Nevin, p. 207„

J?

4d MEMOIRS OF

stitution had not been practised in Ireland, it had been at least professed, particularly since its nominal indepen- dence had been guaranteed by the king and parliament. I need not tell you, that the essence of that constitution is, that men should be tried by juries of their fellow-citizens, their peers; and by the law of the land; and in no arbitra- ry manner deprived of life, liberty or property. If it be not this, it is nothing but a shadow or a sound. But by this revolutionary act, proclamations were to stand for laws. And justices of the peace, often foreign mercenary soldiers, were to take place of juries, and had the power of proclaiming counties and districts out of the king's peace. Horrible and barbarous sentence! These justices were made and cashiered by the breath of lord Clare, a man vio- lent and vindictive. And if ever in better times the list of these justices comes to be enquired into, it will be found of such a complexion as to be of itself an ample comment upon the spirit of the parliament, and those who had the dominion over it. Perhaps I shall, at some other time, when I have concluded this narrative, send you an abstract of this and the other laws and proclamations which fomented this re- bellion. But it would too much impede the course of that which you alone have asked of me, my own particular his- tory. At present I shall barely observe, that the minis- ters who made a merit of having hastened the rebellion by their cruelties, might, without much violence of conjecture, be presumed to have planned it. The suppressing, by the bayonet, of the county meetings, assembled for the constitu- tional purposes of petitioning the king, is another strong proof that they had done what they feared to have made known; and the dungeoning the prisoners, to whose emi- gration they had agreed, is another as, strong. To revo-

WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 43

lutionize their country, was a crime in them; but it would Siare been less so to avow their approbation of the project- ed union, than first to have invoked heaven to witness that, they would consent to no change of their constitution;; then to put nine-tenths of their countrymen under the ban of the most diabolical proscription. To have introduced torture into their native country, and finished by promoting what they had sworn never to endure.

Such was the faction that ruled the parliament of Ire- land. Such was that degraded parliament itself. All the public records of history or of law; all the votes, procla- mations, addresses; all the acts of parliament, and they are the most wonderful ever yet seen; all the reports of committees, secret or open, go to prove, that the evil still increased as their ignorant and vicious remedies were applied. It could not therefore be otherwise than a labor- ed point on their side; and it is easily explained why they so much dreaded and do dread to this day, that the truth should escape out of bondage.

It is doubtless for this reason that the state prisoners are still shut up in Fort St. George, contrary to an agreement made near four years ago,f that they should go abroad,. Perhaps it was for no other reason that the petitions of the people were prevented from approaching the throne. And the peaceable petitioners are assembled under every regula- tion of strict law, treasonably dispersed by the bayonet. And that printers were imprisoned or assassinated, and , their houses wrecked or burned. Mr. O'Conncr, in hi$ letter to lord Castlereagh, dated from his prison, states, that his evidence, written and verbal, contained a hundred

fThese letters were written several years since in Frances 3*hen the prisoners were still in custody,

44 MEMOIRS 01

pages, out of which one only was published, and ninety-niiie suppressed. For my own part, my interest, my connections and my hopes, lay decidedly with the court party, rather than the people. It certainly was nothing but the convic- tion of the great oppression of my country, which is written in so plain a hand that every eye can read it, that could have engaged me to take any part. But in the course of my profession of an advocate, I have been a witness of sys- tematic outrage, such as I once thought had forever disap- peared with the past ages of barbarity. I have, in this res- pect, as in every other, endeavored to discharge my duty with honor and fidelity; and I have been no otherwise than I had foreseen, the victim of that duty and that native ab- horrence which I have of crime. It mav be said, however* that if there were horrors on one side, there were crimes also on the other. I do not say the contrary. Oppression ever generates crimes; and if those who enjoy, in the social scheme, wrealth, rank and power, are not contented with- out trampling on the common rights of their fellow-citizens, they must ever live in the fear of bitter retaliation. Let me now7 ask any man, from whatever quarter of the world, who has at any time chanced to visit my country, and to witness its position: let me challenge him who has ever read its history, to say whether, in any civilized region of the world, there exists a system of greater misgovernment and cruelty; or a country so formed by the hand of nature for the choicest happiness, where there is such an accumu- lated weight of misery. If any crimes have been commit- ted, and doubtless there must have been, it is to this cause that they are due. I may be supposed partial to my coun- trymen, and I am not ashamed of being so. But I do think, that there is no where a people on the earth capable, with

William sampscw. 45

-jail their faults upon their heads, of more exalted virtue. Ardor, generosity of heart, industry and courage, deserve a higher rank amongst the people of the earth, however long and systematic oppression may have labored, in some respects too successfully, to degrade and vilify them.

I feel myself the better qualified to speak in this behalf* as I have no need of justification for myself. No one hav- ing yet dared to mention any crime I have committed, at least in such a manner as to deserve an answer. When any person does so, I have a victorious answer, For, un- less it be a crime, as I have said, to resist rape and torture, Jias any one ever been able to fix the shadow of crime on me? The English ministry and their dependants, may applaud and glorify themselves for having, by a great stroke of policy, duped all parties in my country, and through o ir civil calamities, obtained their ends; but it is too bare-faced even for them to say, that it was criminal in us to try to keep our country independent and united.

But to return to this point of history and fact, which is the hinge of the whole, and most important to be explained. The committee, finding that no alliance was formed until after the insurrection act; that the project of arming and resistance of a very recent date; and that the numbers and proselytes to the union had encreased in an equal ratio with the cruelties inflicted on the people; and that these cruelties had driven so many men of talents and consequence into the ranks; and that few of the present leaders were, until after these cruelties, so well calculated to act upon the con- sciences of virtuous men, in any way concerned with the system. This committee found it necessary to their inter- est, to steer dexterously round this point, and accordingly tjiey had recourse to the opinions of Mr, Tone. H-2 had

4G MEMOIRS OF

arowed frankly, before the tribunal met, to pass judgment of death upon him, (See Appendix, JVfo. III. J that he had meditated much upon the subject, and saw no redemption for his country, but in its separation from that one which held it in bondage. Now this reference to Mr. Tone's opinion, challenged an obvious answer from those whose justification might seem to require it.

At the time that Mr. Jackson was sent from France, to get information of the condition and feelings of the people of England and Ireland, he addressed himself, amongst others, to Mr. Tone. This gentleman was supposed to have drawn up that acute statement read upon Jackson's trial, in which he made the true distinction between the feelings of the English and Irish people; not founded upon vague abstractions, or arbitrary conceits, but upon the solid ground of their different moral and physical existence- He shewed, that the mass of the Irish people were in that state that rendered all nations most fit for rebellion and for war. That the people of England, whatever grievances they had, were more respected, less oppressed, and less insulted. That it might be presumed, the Irish would g'adly embrace deliverance from any hand, but that the English people were not yet at that point. I only from memory undertake to give you some lines of this paper; I remember it the rather from having been employed on the trial of Mr. Jackson, and having published it verbally from short hand notes. I knew very little of Mr. Tone; and had only, until then, had occasion to admire him as a man of engaging and amiable qualities. It remained for the vicious administrations in Ireland to do justice to the po- litical sagacity with which he calculated upon their mis- government and the misery of the people: and to increase

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 47

his partizans from perhaps half a dozen speculative politi- cians, which he might have had at first, to six hundred thousand fighting men, if we may believe the assertion of the minister lord Castlereagh.

But it is said we are now united with England, and such questions should he buried in oblivion. I deny the fact. One step towards that union is certainly gained) the consent of England! Whether Ireland may consent I do not know. I am far from taking upon me to say the contrary. But before that can be known, the nation must be let out of prison, or recalled from banishment, and fairly treated with. If we reap no other benefit than whips, racks, and house-burnings, free quarters and mar- tial law. If there be no tenderer mode of wooing us thai* this adopted, I have no scruple to protest against it as a frightful treason, and a blood-stained union. We may be obliged to submit, as we have heretofore done; we may Lc governed by force, as we have been heretofore governed. but we shall not have consented to this match of force, and the people of Ireland may yet fly to the only consolation left them, union amongst themselves; and grown wiser by past errors, learn to pardon and forget; and instead ©f looking back to causes of endless quarrel, look forward with courage and with hope.

Certainly never union was formed under more imen- gaging auspices. First, divisions were sown amongst the ignorant upon the old pretext, religion, of which those that scorn all religion, ever avail themselves. In the county of Armagh, where this horror was first set on foot, it was carried to such a pitch, that lord Gosfort, the governor of the county, proclaimed, in an address to the magistrates, that justice had slept in the county, and that more tfoap

48 memoirs or *

seven hundred families had been turned out houseless and naked to seek for an habitation, and wander, unprotected, exposed to the merciless rancour of their oppressors; and that, during the most inclement season of the year, for no other crime than that of professing the Roman Catholic faith, the religion of their forefathers. fSee Appendix, No. IV. ) As long as there was a shadow of protection by law, I labored to obtain justice for those suifcrers, and they were many, who confided their cases to me, in the way of my profession. I once, joined with Mr. Emmet, now in Fort George, had the satisfaction of procuring an apparent sign of justice in the conviction of a magistrate, who, for his partiality and wanton cruelty, was sentenced to six months imprisonment in Newgate, which he underwent. But as the plot took consistency, this shew of justice was revoked. Juries were altogether discontinued, and lest any more crir. ioals should be disquieted for their deeds, or any cen- sure or scandal should follow injustice, bills of indemnity were passed, the magistrate in question was rewarded with a place, soldiers were set to do the work of jurors, terror and butchery were organised, and at length the people were driven into the project of arming for their de- fence, and that alliance was finally formed, of which it is not my concern to say any thing further; but winch, had there been common justice in the country, never would have happened.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 49

LETTER VI.

Treacher 11.

IT would be going too far to say, without proofs, that the governing faction wished for this alliance witli the French, which, however lightly it may now be treated, was capable, but for some accidents of a precarious nature, of wresting this country from the dominion of the British monarch. But either upon the ground of intention or misconduct, they certainly are responsible for it. Howev- er, the miscarriage of that scheme gave them such power, that it was in vain any longer to make head against them. The most barbarous crimes they committed were sanc- tioned by the name of loyalty ; and as they were masters of every organ of the public voice, and their opposers dumb, it is not wonderful that not only those of foreign countries are ignorant of their cruelties, but that the peo- ple of Great-Britain are likewise so. And what is more, the very actors in these scenes are yet to learn the arts by which they were duped into deeds, whereupon, hereafter, they will look back with remorse; unless, indeed, that ca- tastrophe, that union which they were ignorantly p : amot- ing, has at length, though late, opened their eyes and awakened their judgments.

I know that as often as the cruelties are mentioned, the excesses committed by the people in rebellion, will be cited to justify them. I think it is a poor whitewash of men's reputation, that others have committed crimes: nor will

G

50 memoirs or

any reasonable being expect, that where the example of dissoluteness and cruelty is set by those who hold the greatest advantages in society; when they, to whom the laws have guaranteed riches and power, are imprudent, as well as wicked enough to set those laws at defiance; it is too much to expect, with such an example before them, the virtue of angels, or the meekness of lambs, from the igno- rant and oppressed. It is true, the founder of the best re- ligion has ordered his disciples, when smote on one cheek to turn the other. But from the day that he said so, until this that I now write to you, I never heard of any people that conformed to that injunction. At all events, I am happily a stranger to all the crimes committed on one side and the other; and in this respect can speak with impartiali- ty. And now, before I quit these points which it was ne- cessary to explain, I shall state a profligate breach of honor, which stands naked and unexcused by any pretext of reason, policy, or prudence, and for which no man living, I should suppose, will pretend to offer an excuse; a perfidy of which I clearly have a right to speak most boldly, having been myself the dupe and the victim of it.

The agreement which I signed in common with the other prisoners, from the pure, and I think I may without vani- ty say, the generous motives above stated, imported in ex- press terms, that we the subscribers should emigrate, such was the word, to such country not at war with Great-Bri- tain, as should be agreed upon, taking with us our families and our property. The prisoners, to use lord Castle- reagh's words to doctor M'Nevin, had honorably fulfilled their part of this agreement, and this lord assured them, the government would religiously fulfil its part. Lord Clare also used these emphatical words to Mr. O'Connors

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 51

« Mr. O'Connor, says he, it comes to this, either the govern* ment must trust you, or ijou must trust it; and the gov eminent that could violate an engagement so solemnly entered into, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand!" In this, certainly lord Clare said truly: but never were more true words followed by more treacherous actions. This agreement was violated, and these gentlemen are still in prison.

For my part, it was upon the honor of lord Cornwallis that I relied, and not upon the assertions of this junto, They never, I must confess, deceived me, for I never trusted them. How far the sequel will remain a blot upon the name of Cornwallis, I leave to his own feelings to decide.

It only rested for me, after the voluntary sacrifice I had made, to act with fortitude, and without asking any favor, to leave my ill-fated country, where atrocity led to honor, and virtue to the scaffold; and to fix upon some other, where I could retire in peace and safety. But what was my surprise, when I was informed, that I should be allowed to go to no country in Europe. Some time before, it was asserted, that the minister of the United States had de- clared, that the prisoners would not be admitted to take refuge in America. Thomas Jefferson had not then pro- nounced those words, honoring himself and his country: shall there be no where an asylum on the earth for perse- cuted humanity; and shall we refuse to the children of oppression, that shelter which the natives of the woods accorded to our fathers?

It had been recommended to me to go to Portugal, on ac- count of my ruined health; and that country being governed by England, seemed least liable of any to objection from the

§2 MEMOIRS OF

government; and my own intentions were, to abide faithful- ly by the agreement I had consented to: so I could not even in imagination, figure to myself the possibility of the dis- graceful proceedings which have since taken place: I therefore asked permission to go to Portugal, and this rea- sonable request was no sooner made than refused. Hap- pily I had a friend whose heart was warm and honest, and whose courage and firmness in the cause of honor, was well known in his youth, and seemed but to increase with his years. This was Mr. Montgomery, the member for the county of which I was a native. He was an old friend a' d fellow-soldier of lord Cormvallis, and brother of Mont- gomery, the hero of Quebec. He took upon him to stem this torrent of persecution; and, after much difficulty, made his way to the viceroy, through the phalanx of lords and bishops that besieged him. He represented to him the dangerous state of my health; the sacred manner in which his honor was pledged to me; the cruel denial of justice or trial; the torture of my servant, and my secret imprison- ment. All this he represented with so much effect, that I was immediately favored with the following letter:

To Counsellor Sampson, Bridewell.

Lord Castxereagh presents his compliments to Mr. Sampson. He has the lord lieutenant's directions to acquaint him, that he may go to Portuga?, as his health is said to require it, on condition of giving security to remain there during the war, unless ordered away by that govern* ment.

Castle^ Tuesday,

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 55

I tlv'nk, my dear friend, I cannot now do bettor than finish this letter, and give you and myself an opportunity of reposing. For though you might suppose the malice of my enemies by tins time pretty nearly exhausted, yet you will find on the contrary, that my persecution was but beginning, and you will have need of all your patience to listen to the rest.— Farewell.

LETTER VII.

Chicane— Lie by Act of Parliament— Lord Casllereagji.

ONE would have hoped, that all difficulty was now over. One might have supposed, that rancor itself had been now assuaged. But on the contrary, every artifice of delay, and every refinement of chicanery was again put in practice, as if to torment me in revenge for the justice I had obtained from lord Cornwallis, and the part I had had in rescuing so many victims from the fury of their pursuers. Weeks and months passed away, so great a difficulty was made of drawing up a simple form of recog- nisance pursuant to lord Cornwallis' order; a thing so easy, had good faith been intended, that the meanest clerk of an attorney was as capable of doing it, as the first judge of the land. My brother and my brother-in- law, both fathers of families in remote parts of the coun- try, were all this time detained in the capital, and the reason given for this vexation was, that this famous in- strument was to be a precedent for the cases of all the other

54 MEMOlKs 01

prisoners; and yet a principal part of those prisoners are now, at the distance of four years, in gaol; another instance of that complicated perfidy to which I hare heen subjected.

At length every trick of malicious petty-fogging ex- hausted; my family rendered miserable, and my health almost ruined, I received from Mr. Marsden, a law se- cretary, the following note:

" Mr. Marsden presents his compliments to Mr. Samp- son, lie has been able to arrange finally with lord Cas- tlereagh, the terms which Mr. Sampson must comply with, previous to his sailing.

"Mr. Marsden encloses a form of recognisance, which Mr. Sampson should execute. When that is done, there need be no other delay."

Dublin Castle, October 4, 1798.

With this note was sent a form of security, in which there was nothing remarkable, except the leaving out the words in lord Cornwallis's order, "unless ordered away by that government.'"

If so many months had not been spent in planning this formality, namely, from the month of July, when I con- sented to sign the agreement, until the month of October, when I was told I must comply or stay in prison, I should have thought nothing of this circumstance. Coupled with what has since happened, it seems to warrant the supposi- tion that it was predetermined I should be sent away from Portugal. For I remember it was once given as a reason for breaking faith with the prisoners, that no country would receive them. Much influence, and much intrigue was used to make that barbarous assertion true. And it will be found by my case,, that frustrated in that view, no

WUXIAM SAMPSON. 55

malevolent refinement was spared to pursue us wherever we should take refuge. But let the sequel explain itself.

I made no difficulty in subscribing it as it was ordered, and thereupon I received the following passport:

Dublin Castle, Oct. 6, 1798.

Permit "William Sampson, Esq. to take his passage from the port of Dublin, to any port in the kingdom of Portugal, without hindrance or molestation.

By order of his excellency the lord lieutenant of Ire- land.

Castxereagii.

To all port-officers, officers commanding** his majeshfs ships, and others xvhom L (SEAL. J it may concern. J

And upon the back was written: "Mr. Sampson is to keep this passport in his possession." This, however, it will be seen, I was not always allowed to do.

And on the same day, an order was sent for my en largement, addressed to the keeper, with the following letter to my brother, by the private secretary of lord Cas- tlereagh:

Dear Sampson,

I SEND you an order, which I trust to you, though I know not whether the business is done or not. But I know you will not use it until you ought, and then you see by it that your brother goes without either guard or messenger. When there is no need of painful steps, they will not be adopted by a government, which, I

56 MEMOIRS OF

assure you, never wishes to be unnecessarily severe. I wish your brother happiness.

Tours,

Alexr. Knox.

Now it v. '11 be for you to judge how very forbearing this government was from painful steps. A bill was brought forward in parliament stating, or rather insinuat- ing in the preamble that I, with many others therein named., had confessed myself guilty of treason and implored for mercy. With more to that purpose, stated in the most extravagant language, and finally making it felony for any one to correspond with me.

Now, so far from confessing treason, I was ready, had my persecutors dared to come to the trial, to have proved treason upon them, and thrown the accusation in their teeth. But they took good care of that, and never would give me the advantage, of a trial, nor even an examination, nor any mode of explanation whatever: and, as to imploring their mercy, I would an hundred times sooner have im- plored for death. Here then was an assertion by act of parliament, of a gross and scandalous lie: but a lie that no- body dared to contradict, for it was a lie by act of parlia- ment; and parliament was omnipotent. And among the many scourges that this parliament had lately inflicted upon its bleeding country, was this: That they took upon them to imprison their fellow-citizens arbitrarily, for whatever they chose, in either house, to call a breach of privilege. So here, without law or truth, or any sanction of justice, they had made assertions of the vilest malevo- lence, upon which were deliberately to be founded enactions of the most heinous terrorism, and there was not left to the

WILLIAM SAMPSON, Sf

victims of this treachery, of whom I was one, any possible means of defence. Vile men, which of you can say now, at the distance of four years, what treason I confessed, or whose mercy I implored? It is true this parliament of fa« mous memory, soon after did justice on itself, and relieved the groaning country from its crimes! It had long been corrupt and morbid,- hut in its last convulsions, exceeded all imagination. Witness the frantic abominations that it vomited forth upon the people! If any future historian should collect those laws, and give them in their order, as a supple- ment to the former code of penal laws in Ireland, it would be a monument, at least of curiosity, perhaps of melancholy instruction. For amongst these laws, there were some exciting directly to murder; others indemnifying it. There were laws to promote kidnapping, and laws to sanc- tion it; laws to raise rebellion, and laws to put it down. To-day a proclamation that all was peace and loyalty; to- morrow a report that all was war and treason. To-day it wras a few miscreants; to-morrow a general massacre. Sometimes it was atheism, sometimes delusion, and some- times popery. In fact every cause was held out but the true ones — oppression and misgovernment. So that, as their crude nostrums were encreased, the evil augmented. Every organ of complaint was choaked, and the nation be- came one general prison, and military power executed the decrees of individual malice. And those who had so often pledged their "lives and fortunes" against all innovations, at length threw off the mask: and after astonishing each other by the measure of their own impudence, finished by an act of desperate suicide. And to crown this deed, lord Castlereagh, who had pledged himself upon the hustings, and sworn to his constituents of the ,county of Down, to

H

?$ S1EM0IKS OF

persevere in purifying and reforming this parliament, and" to promote such acts as were most for its independence, was the first to cry fie upon it, and to stab. ( See Appen- dix No. V.J Such was that man, who, by spurning at his own sacred engagements and practising every art of po-^ litical falsehood, first a demagogue and then a tyrant, had raised himself, with slender talents, to the place of secretary of state, at a time when the suspension of the habeas corpus had given to that office the right of arbitrary imprisonment over all the kingdom. Such was the man upon whose mandate I was torn from my family for being "suspected*9 as it was expressed, "of treasonable practices." Alas! I may be suspected, but in his own case there is sure- ly no question of suspicion. May the moment when I prove but the hundredth part so much a traitor, be the mo- ment of my destruction. Is it not rank and foul, that the best men in any country should be at the mercy of those who make a public jest of truth and honor? When the wise and the just are ground into the earth, and the puni- est things that are, let them be but base and mischievous enough, are raised to power!

I was now about to leave my prison, and to leave behind me those fellow-sufferers with whom my acquaintance had began in bridewell; but in none of whom I could ever trace a disposition to crime of any kind. They, one and all, seemed to be animated by an ardent desire of sacrificing their lives in the deliverance of their country, from what they conceived, I am sure too justly, to be oppression and . tyranny. And their actions seemed to proceed from a thorough conviction that they were right. At all events, if this was an error, the proceedings which I have men- tioned, of house-burning, wrecking, ravishing, denial of

WIIXIAM SAMPSOflV 5§

justice, breaking of faith, half-hanging and scourging; dungeoning, kidnapping and picketing, and other torture to extort confessions; free quarters, religious proscriptions, martial law, and all of those execrable measures, of the horrors of which, no one who has not seen it, can have any idea. These proceedings surely were not calculated tn cure them of their errors.

LETTER VIII.

Lovely Peggy — Lovely Mary — Shipwreck*

THERE was now a small vessel ready to sail for Lisbon, called the Lovely Peggy, captain Knight; and it was stipulated that I should take my passage on board of her. On the same evening that I received the order to the gaoler to set me free, I lost not a moment in going to this captain, to make the necessary arrangements. And my faithful but unfortunate man, John Russel, followed after me, fearing perhaps some insult; for which act of zeal he was once more to pay dear, as you will see.

It was on .the night of the rejoicings for the victory of Lord Nelson; and many of the yeomanry were in disorder through the streets. There was a group squibbing off cartridges on the flaggs in Abbey street, through which I was to pass; and one of them taking offence, that we wore our hair short, called out, "croppies" which was their word of attack; and just as we passed, fired a blunt car- tridge into John's shoulder. I paid no attention to the sliot^

60 MEMOIRS OP

net knowing what had happened; and I had now a fresh proof of the magnanimity of my unfortunate companion; for he never disclosed what had happened until we were at a considerable distance, fearing, and justly, that my pa- tience might not have been proof against such atrocity: but when at length he thought it time to discover the wound he had received, I went with him into a shop to examine it, and found that his clothes had been pierced through, and the point of the cartridge forced into the very bone. The contusion was attended with violent swelling, and the pain doubtless aggravated extremely, by the quantity of unburned gunpowder which was buried in his flesh. Such was the event of the first ten minutes of1 my liberty; after a seclusion of so many months. At ieast, it was well calculated to cure me of any regret I might have at leaving my native country, which I had loved but too well, and where I could boast certainly, that the esteem of my fellow-citizens was a great part of my crime. Having thus once more escaped assassination, a fate I have not been unfrequently threatened with, we re- ;urned to bridewell; where, with my wife, I spent the last evening in the society of my fellow-sufferers.

The following day I had occasion to buy a number of filings in the shops, and also to go to the custom-house for d paper called a bill of health.: but was no sooner return- ed to my lodgings, than my brother came to tell me, that the castle was crouded with persons flocking there to com- plain of my being suffered to appear in the streets. A strange instance, at once, of the meanness and impudence of that faction, and of the extent to which injustice had de- graded the government of that hapless country. Mi\ Knox accused my brother of an abuse of confidence, m

WILLIAM SAMPSON". 6l

trusting me with the order for my enlargement, without restraining me from such an open act of defiance as that of appearing in the streets. I confess, that much as I had seen, and much as I had heard, and much as I had felt, I was not without astonishment at such perteiiacious extrav^ . agance. But so it is, that when men have been for a length of time actuated by party spirit, still more by ter- ror, which entirely takes away the understanding, they no longer perceive what is right or what is wrong; what is decent or what is unbecoming. And in this abandon- ment of their judgment, and even of their senses, they ral- ly to the first absurdity that wears the colour of their pre- judices; and when it comes to that, it is as great madness on the other side to expect any thing from reason. The only remedy then to be hoped is, from time that tries all opinions. My brother told me, that it was desired by his friend, that I should write to excuse myself for having been seen in the streets; and, as he had every title to my compliance that an affectionate brother and a sincere friend could have, I acquiesced without hesitation in the following manner as nearly as I can remember: I men- tioned that it was in consequence of an order to come out. of prison, that I appeared in the streets; there being no other way of coming out of prison than through the streets; and that it was the more necessary, as having , engaged to go immediately abroad, I was obliged to pro- vide myself instantly with what was necessary for my de- parture. That I was sure the government was powerful enough to guarantee its own order; but if it were other- wise, and that it would condescend to accept of my sup- port, which I had now the honor of offering for the first time, I would defend the agreement it had made with me,

■■U Memoirs Gl-

and the order given for my liberation, With both nv^ hands, against whoever should dare to stop me; and that, without giving the government the trouble of interfering in the least. I do not know whether this note was pleas- ing or otherwise, but I heard no more of the matter; and, by my brother's desire, I seldom went out afterwards but in a carriage, and that towards dinner hour, although I was at liberty for near two months, during which time I made, as you will see, four unsuccessful attempts to leave my enemies behind me.

It is incredible how much I suffered during the greatest part of the months of October and November. Four dif- ferent times I went to sea, and was as often driven back by furious gales of wind into the same harbor. The ves- sel was very small and deeply laden. In the cabin I could not be upright, and on the deck it was always wet. This with the sea sickness and my habitual ill health, brought me back each time to my family more like a spectre than a living man. At length I was utterly unable to pro- ceed; and it was, but not without much harshness, agreed that I should wait a few days for another vessel going out to Oporto. This was a brig called the Lovely Mary. The Lovely Peggy went the fifth time without me, and was captured by the Spaniards.

Baring all this season the weather was so tempestuous, that our coasts were covered with wrecks.

There was an interval of some days between the quitting of the Peggy and embarking in the Mary, that I spent in peace in the bosom of my family. But the genius of per- secution could not tolerate this: and the town-major, Mr. Sirr, was sent by lord Castlereagh to inform me, that I aiust go back to bridewell. The vessel was at this tima

ifrllXIAM SAMPSON. 6;?

tfeady and only waiting for a wind. At the moment that this officer entered, armed with a case of pistols and a dagger stuck in his girdle, I was in the act of making up my trunks to embark. My wife was lending her assist- ance, and my children were playing on the floor. This major Sirrf is a gentleman by no means celebrated for delicacy or gentleness in the city from which he derives his office. But I will do him the justice to say, that on this occasion he seemed to have some feelings of compuftc tion for the mission he was charged with. He consented and even proposed to wait until I should write to the cas- tle, and state that I was already preparing to go on board the ship. It was necessary to send twice, the person to whom my first letter was addressed being absent: and all that time he remained standing in a window, as for some reason or other he refused to sit down. An answer came directed to him from lord Castlereagh, and he only asked me to pledge my word that I would go on board that eve- ning, and took his leave.

I accordingly went to live on board this vessel, but the wind continued unfavorable, and the weather so tempestu- ous, that several ships were driven ashore, even in the harbor. During this time I had no other means of con- versing with my wife, than by stealing up at night, and returning before day light on board; and this not without risque, as one night a man was assassinated by the mili- tary on the road where I had to pass. Such was the pro- ceeding of that government which was *<so unwilling t© resort to painful steps!"

t For a better account of him, see Mr. Curran's speech on the trial of Hevev; he is now hieh sheriff of the city of D' s*~ lin III

64 MSMOIBS 09

At length, on the 24th. October, as well as I can recol- lect, the captain was ordered against his will to sea, and on the 27th. we were stranded on the coast of North "Wales, on the extreme point of Carnarvonshire, near the small port of Pullhell y.

Having got so far, give me leave again to pause; that you may have some time to repose, and I he the better able to resume my story.

XETTEE IX.

.Indent Britons — Duke of Portland.

BY a curious whim of fortune, the soil on which I was now to look for hospitality was the identical country of those ancient Britons, who had been made the blind in- struments of so many crimes against the Irish, and which they finally expiated with their lives. They had been taken from their mountains and their ploughs, and enflam- ed by every artifice against their unfortunate felloxv-sub- jects in Ireland, with whom they could possibly have no quarrel. For it is worthy of note, that besides the faction in our own country, the principal part of those employed in making war upon the Irish, were the mountaineers of Scotland and Wales, and also Hessians; who, not knowing the English language nor the ancient language still spoken by many of the Irish, were inaccessible to all remonstrance and less liable to be softened by complaint, or enlightened by expostulation, or in any way made sensible of the cm-

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 65

elties they were committing. Perhaps also their lives were held in less estimation than those of the English, and they were preferred in that service*

So gross were the arts used to inflame these poor people, ihatoneof the stories circulated among them was, if I have not been much deceived, "that the Irish were coming to eat them with a horn of salt.1'9 This, I confess, ap- pears an absurdity almost incredible. But the pr6ofs I had to my own senses of the credulity of the people of this district, rendered me less difficult on that head. I will give you an instance of this. Of late years they hare formed very numerous associations in nature of a religions sect, of which the principal and characteristic act of de- votion is jumping; and therefrom they are denominated jumpers. To this end they have built a vast number of chappels by voluntary subscription, where they preach by self-inspiration. The preachers are of all sexes and all ages and start forth spontaneously from among the con- gregation; so that I havo seen a great number running about at a time preaching and sobbing and shedding tears, and wringing each others hands: whilst the lookers on seemed to catch in a fainter degree the same inspiration. As they preached in their vernacular tongue, I could not judge of their sermons otherwise than by their effects. I have seen many actually in convulsions.: and old men on their knees making wry faces, and knawing the heads of their sticks and biting, in a kind of extacy, like a cat tickled on the crupper. - Tiie more young and vigorous jump up in the air, with their hands up clutching at the in- visible Lamb of the Lord. But particularly, I was told, at certain solemnities and stated times of the year, they as- semble in the towns and villages, and in the fields, and on

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the high roads. This is probably towards the festival of Easter, and then the whole country is engaged in the act of jumping; each as the caprice strikes, or sometimes alto- gether like fry in the sea. I understand, since I have been in France, that this sect is much more extended than I then had any idea: and that it prevails equally in South as in North Wales. It was from a little girl that was sent from an hospitable farmer's house, to conduct me to the road, that I first learned the meaning of their jumping. I had gone into the cottage to ask my way and was without further introduction, invited to accept of country fare; and this little girl, who alone had learned English, served as my interpreter, and afterwards as my guide. I was charmed on this as on every other occasion, with the hos- pitality of this people: for it is but justice to say, that they, like my own countrymen, possess that noble virtue in a high degree. I wished to make some little compliment to the child, and as we walked along towards the great road I asked her if she ever came to Pullhelly, and if she would come and see me there? She answered that she came twice a week to the preaching, and that she would call and en- quire for me at Mr. Jones's. I asked her then if she was a jumper? and she said she was. I finally ventured to ask heir what she jumped for, for in my country we had not yet learned that? And she replied with great simplicity, that she jumped for the Lamb. Would to God that so many of those poor people had been let to remain until this day jumping for the Lamb, instead of being brought over full of ignorant fury, of which they wei« hardly to be called guilty, to burn the wretched cottages of the poor Irish, to torture, violate and murder, and in the end to pay the for- feit with their lives. Good God! will there never be a pe-

WILLIAM SAMPSON, C7

riod of civilization, when humanity will emerge from dark- ness and barbarity? But it is time to quit this digression, and continue my story.

Having with difficulty got to land, for which we were much indebted to the courage and humanity of Mr. Robin- son, a clergyman in sight of whose house we were first stranded, and who came with some of his people in a row- boat to our assistance, we went to an inn kept by an ancient, sea captain called Jones. Here there arrived on the fol- lowing morning the passengers of a packet-boat bound to. Bristol, put in, damaged and dismasted by similar distress of weather. Between the passengers of both vessels our society was numerous, and enlivened by some pretty and amiable persons of the fair sex. Our fare was good though no. sumptuous. We had a clean fire-side, and that cordial pleasure that arises from past toil. We had a harper to play to us at dinner, and we danced to his music in the evening. The next day we made our parties to wander on the strand and climb upon the rocks,- and in this manner we passed several days which to me seemed short. But as the rest of his casual society went off in a few days, each to pursue his own particular destination, I was left to con- sider for myself. I had indeed perceived that calumny and terror had been before-hand with me. Certain it it* that my name seemed to have reached the shore before me,, and I could see that I was eyed as an object of curiosity, if not of horror. Many, I dare say, piqued themselves upon discovering in my features the indications of my bloody disposition; or in my structure, the signs of that atrocious force, by which I had been able to destroy with my own hand all the ancient British cavalry. And I'd are say my name, so weB suited to such a terrific illusion, wa

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taken for something into the account. And all this was sustained by the ribaldry copied from the Irish faction prints; for I never could take up a news -paper without meeting some paragraph touching myself, in which there was only this one consistency, that of near a thousand which I have read from first to last, I can safely say there was not one that contained a syllable of truth. One only I shall take the trouble of citing, as explanatory of what is to follow. Its author, calculating upon what was doubtless preconcerted, but not foreseeing the frequent put- ting back of the Lovely Peggy nor the stranding of the Lovely Mary, took upon him in the true spirit of the party holdly to publish, that I had heen refused admission into Portugal, and this at least three months before I went there! In my present extraordinary position it was necessary to come to some explanation. I therefore wrote to the duke of Portland, secretary of state, and also to lord Corn v. -all is. To the former I recapitulated all that had passed from the time I had written to him from Carlisle gaol, to request to be sent to trial. I told him of the con- stant denial of that justice; of the torture of my servant, and of the engagement I had so disinterestedly entered in- to with the government; and the unfair manner in which advantage had been taken of it; of the assertion that I had confessed treason, whereas I had never been allowed to speak: that in short I was ready if he chose, to go to Lon- don and convince him by irrefragable proofs, that if there was treason, winch I abhorred, it lay upon my accusers, and not with me. Had this offer been accepted, I should have had hopes, though late, of obtaining justice for my- . self and perhaps of effecting some more general good. I thinl as to lord CornwaJUis that I mentioned a wish to

WILXIAM SAMPSON. 6])

remain where I now was; for I had already more than one good reason to forebode that I should not have fair play in Portugal.

For more surety I addressed my letter to lord Cornwall lis, to his private secretary, captain Taylor: and I had by return of post the following answer:

Dublin Castle, Dec. 5, 1798. Sir,

I am directed by lord Cornwallis to acquaint you, that your letter of the 2d. instant has been transmit- ted to the duke of Portland, and that a_compliance with your request must rest entirely with the English govern- ment.

I am, Sir,

Four most obedient humble servant,

H. Tayxok.

And from the duke of Portland I had the answer which follows:

White-Baa, Dec. 13, 1798. Sir,

It was not in my power to answer your letter of the 28th November, before I had communicated with the lord lieutenant of Ireland on the subject of the request it contained. I have now to acquaint you that there is no objection either to your remaining at Pullhelly, until the vessel in which you arrived there shall be in a condition to prosecute her voyage, or to repair to Falmouth in or« der to proceed by the first packet to Lisbon. In case you should prefer the latter, I enclose a passport which may prevent your meeting with any difficulty on the road*

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I must beg" of you to inform me, by return of post, wheth- er you intend to remain at Pullhelly; and if you do, of the probable period which it may be necessary for you to wait before the vessel can sail. Tarn, Sir, Four most obedient humble servant,

Portland.

The passport enclosed with the above, you will find in, an appendix, which it is my intention to subjoin; and in which I shall insert such other documents illustrative of this narrative, as I shall be able to obtain possession of be- fore it is closed. (See Appendix, JS"o. VI. J

It was dated White-Hall. It was unlimited as to time.

It literally empowered me to go from White Hall to Fal- mouth. The letter being silent as to my passing through London, seemed to leave it at my option, and I had once nearly formed that design. Meantime I had written to lord Moira, in whose hands I had deposited many authen- tic documents touching the barbarities committed on the Irish; and I now desired to have them in order if any op- portunity was allowed, to profit by the true light I could throw upon those affairs, and boldly to reclaim justice for myself and others at my own peril.

You must have heard of lord Moira's motion in the Irish house of lords, founded upon these and numberless other documents, the truth of which was incontrovertible. Lord Moira certainly did state the facts of which he was pos- sessed much less energetically than might be expected from his eloquence and sensibility. It is possible that aiming at conciliation, he feared the too strong truth; and

WILLIAM SAMPSON* f\

his motion had little other effect than to bring x'.pon him- self a torrent of vulgar abuse. Such was the reward of his moderation on the one hand, whilst on the other the people smarting with the sense of injury and insult, tools little part in a discourse which painted their sufferings so short of what they felt them. Yet trusting to the good in- tentions of the earl of Moira, and seeing the difficult card he had to play; above all comparing him with those who tvere against him, I could not but feel very great respect for his efforts, and an infinite desire to contribute to their success. Indeed if his motion had no other good effect, it had at least that of setting in a striking point of view the contrast between a man of high breeding and the low pet- ulance of the faction that opposed him in the name of a constitution which they had already betrayed and were shortly to annihilate.

ADVERTISEMENT.

To the Reader.

WHEN these letters were written, I had with- held from my friend the following correspondence with lord Moira. This might have been an overstrained deli- cacy at that time; but subsequent events and present cir- cumstances require, that I should make it known for my reputation's sake. And indeed circumvented and ensnared as I am by the craft of my enemies, I have no other mean?

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of communicating my sentiments than this public one, ever: t ) many of those materially interested to know them.

It was on the 19th. of February, 1798, that lord Moira took his seat in the Irish parliament, and made his cele- brated motion for conciliatory measures, I had before that been admitted into the society of the countess dowager of Moira and Huntingdon, a lady distinguished by advan- tages greater than her high birth, those of a cultivated and solid mind, stored with the richest treasures of erudi- tion. I was also very well received by her daughters, lady Granard and lady Charlotte Rawdon, persons of whose acquaintance the proudest man might be ambitious. My brother had been long acquainted with lord Moira, and had a great respect and attachment for him. Among the persecuted Catholics of Armagh, were many tenants of his lordship, who had made choice of me for their advocate. And so violent was the government partij against him, that the peep of day boys had committed outrages in his town of Ballynahinch, and one of the ladies pointed out to me a house of a principal inhabitant, perforated with musket shot which they had fired into the windows in the night. Besides this it was said and believed, that general Lake had declared that some town must be burned in the north, and the best to begin with was lord Moira's. And so great were his lordship's apprehensions that he transmit- ted to England his family library, one of the most precious to be found in tiie possession of any individual. On lord Moira's arrival also, I had instituted a society, of which were men undoubtedly the most distinguished in Ireland; such as Grattan, the Ponsonbys, Curran, Flecker, the brave old Montgomery, with some others of the patriotic members of parliament, and uncomvpted lawyers, am*.

WIXLIAM SAMTSOIf. 75

certain of the influential Catholics and merchants, whose credit and correspondence was necessary to the object in view, which was to collect true and authenticated facts to be opposed as a bulwark to falsehood and national calumny, and possibly by their great enormity to appal those imme- diately responsible; or if there was any wisdom or justice beyond them to force conviction there. By this society I was named historiographer, and my brother corresponding secretary. We had proceeded for some time in despite of the reigning terror with effect: and never were more tragi- cal stories wrested from oblivion.

At this time it is impossible to say to what particular degree each man in the community was tainted with rebel- lion. Every good man was in some degree rebellious: some more, some less; each according to the warmth of his heart, the firmness of his mind, his compassion, his honesty, perhaps his ambition or his interest. But he who felt no tendency to rebel against such crimes had, I think. but little cause to glorify himself. It is only for him who searches all hearts, to know the pangs which a conscien- tious man in such a state of things must feel, particularly one whose connections, intimacies, youthful habits, and ties of blood, Jie on the one side; whilst the voice of reason and humanity and the instinctive horror of oppression and cruelty calls him to the other. How many ties must then be rent asunder! The love of country, the love of his fel- low-creature, the love and fear of his Gou, prompt him to rebel against crimes forbidden by the laws of God and man. The tender affections of the heart, the scruples which a humane mind must ever have to surmount before it can en- gage in the dreadful conflict of a civil war.

Such were the considerations which often occupied my

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private thoughts. 1 was convinced of the monstrous abuses committed against the Irish people, of the misery and de- gradation in which they were held by inhuman policy and a barbarous code, of the insolence of their plunderers, and the corruption and cruelty of their masters. The strong remonstrances in which not only the United Irishmen, but all the unhired and many even of the hired, had made at various times: for there is scarcely a name of any uncorrupted in- dividual of the slightest degree of importance, that is not somewhere to be found annexed to resolution, petition or remonstrance, at one time or other, complaining of these evils. I therefore however convinced of the truths propa- gated by (lie United Irishmen, was long in acting upon that conviction. And although for some time previous to this period I had determined and declared, in case of civil >\ af that I should not be against the people, unless the mea- sures of the government should become such as that with- out sacrificing my conscience I could support it: still I : lied if possible to find some middle course by which th$ most good could be effected and the most evil prevented. I had always seen that the hard hearted tax-masters of my country had never relented but through fear. I therefore, whenever I wrote or spoke of public matters, endeavored to state their danger with the firm tone of true conviction; whilst on the other hand I labored to soften the too just "indignation of the popular party, and often lost the popu- larity which courageous and upright dealing had acquired to me, by hankering after that conciliation which bolder politicians affirmed to be impossible, and reform which they foresaw never would be conceded; and perhaps by too much attachment to individuals Who have not returned ';it attachment as generously as they ought. Some, to

WILLIAM SAMPSON. Y5

Use Mr. Tone's words, had long meditated upon the sub- ject and were convinced that separation was the only rem- edy. I was very late in taking any part in politics) and had yielded unwillingly and against my interest and my predilections to too much conviction. I persevered with all my might to bring about a co-operation between the popular leaders and the parliamentary opposition, in order that unanimity of talents and influence might if pos- sible prevail, and succeeded so far as to persuade the whole to make one final effort for reform through the par- liament. I had drawn several of those petitions which were presented to the king with the same intention from towns and counties, in defiance of the insurrection act, par- ticularly that of Downe, ( See Appendix JVo. VII. J which wras passed without any alteration by the freeholders of that county. When I acted as chairman at the Belfast town meeting (See Appendix No. VIII. ) I did not know that the French had been invited, nor for a long time af- terwards: but as that important event seemed a fair warn- ing to the English, who felt that they owed their danger to the weakness and vice of their government in Ireland and their safety to the elements alone, I still hoped that some- thing might be done through their fears> though nothing could be effected through their justice. I know that in this I passed for a weak and unexperienced politician in the eyes of many: yet had any conciliation or any thing like redress of griefs been held out by government (for the parliament was but an instrument) it might have been pos- sible to have obtained for Ireland solid advantages, and con- sequent advantage and security to England. I have high authority now to say that I was not mistaken, and that the sentiments expressed in contradiction of this opinion were

to >m;moius o*

more from the certainty that their efforts would be to ever} good purpose unavailing, and would produce nothing but a division in the public mind.

Did I aspire to a high rank as a politician I should not mention all these scruples which may rather class me amongst the lesser geniuses: but I write for truth and not for vanity. I write to let my Mends perceive that I heVec have deceived them, and to let my oppressors feel the weight of my iniquity.

Lord Moira lived at his mother's residence in Dublin. I was presented to himj and if I had received attentions from the ladies, I experienced still more flattering ones from him. He once called me into his cabinet, and after apologizing by anticipation, with all that suavity and no- bleness of manner which he possesses, and after I had as- sured him that I knew him incapable of speaking any thing (hat ought to offend, he proposed to me to go over and live with him in England; that he saw a storm gathering round me; that he knew how I wras threatened; that what- ever loss it might be, he would endeavor to counterbalance it, and that to whatever amount I chose, he would be my banker, and make my fortune his particular care. I did not immediately recover from the emotion this proceeding excited in me; but when I did, I answered that had this of- fer been made a short time before I might perhaps have accepted of it; that I felt the value of it as much as if I did; that however agreeable such a retreat under the auspices of his lordship might be, I could not consent to it at present, as several hundreds of my oppressed country- men looked to me for their vindication. And having in such a crisis undertaken the defence of the wretched, I found it as impossible to abandon my duty to them as it

WlillAM SAMPSON-. ft

would be for his lordship to quit the field of battle in the moment of action.

About this time my brother persuaded the society to let lord Moira have the use of some of the well authenticated documents we had collected; and he induced me to join him heartily and actively in seconding- his views; and be- fore I quit this long digression I must mention one most ex- traordinary occurrence which his lordship, notwithstanding the time and the changes that have intervened, cannot have forgotten.

A man from England who passed by various names in his correspondence with the castle, Bird, Smith, Johnson* &c. and who had been one of the hired denouncers in the employment of government, smote as he alledged by re- morse and compunction, refused to follow up his work, and escaping to a place of safety, published his reasons; and in one piece gravely reproved the immorality of the government, adding a prophetic warning that such crimes could not long prosper. (See Jppendix No. IX. J He was a man of very unusual talent, and I believe never so desperately engaged in deeds of blood as the rest of the body known by the name of the battalion of testimony.

It was a part of the tactics of the faction, before the laws were totally abolished, to deny the most positive facts. When that was impossible they said government did not give such orders, and that the courts of justice were open. The confessions of a man of this kind were all-important to the substantiation of truth; and having had some intimation that Mr. Bird wished to reveal every thing in discharge of his conscience I went, accompanied by Mr. Grattan and my brother, from lord Moira's at a pretty late hour, and staid until this extraordinary man

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writfeea upon two and thirty pages of large paper which lie did without stopping, not only his own doings but those of- others of the battalion of testimony associated with him. Of these were Mr. Newell, a painter, who

; to go about in a robe with a mask and a wand to point out his victims, who were immediately seized and dragged to the dungeon or to execution. Mr. Newell also shortly after published his atrocities in the way of a story. Another was Mr. Dutton, a servant, who had been turned away for stealing plate from his mistress, an Englishman also. He sometimes headed the ancient Britons in their most murderous excurtions, and I believe had a commis- sion as an officer among them and other very signal marks of favor, and had then full power of life and death given him oyer the Irish. Another was a Mr. Murdoch, son of a hcartu-Tiioneij collector. The story Mr, Bird related of

e men was a tissue of unexampled profligacy, villany and obscenity. Lord Moira must still, I should suppose, be in possession of it. I took care that every page of it should be signed by Bird and countersigned by Mr. Grat- lan, who was a privy counsellor.

I shall now close this digression, too long perhaps, but necessary to the perfect understanding of the following lei- ■

Duninglon, Lee. 26, 1798.

■v I .

Your letter of the 21st. uddressed to me in London,, has only this afternoon reached me here. I must undoubtedly fee! it claimed from me by every considera- tion of justice, that you should have the perusal of any doc- ument in my possession, which you may think necessar?'

WHJJAM SAMPSON. ?9

Towards the statement you meditate to the duke of Port- land. Those copies are in the hands of Mr. Sheridan in town. I will immediately write to request that he will give you the inspection of those documents whensoever you shall apply to him. It is impossible for me to form with sufficient accuracy the opinion which you ask of me, whetk- er it would not be expedient for you under your pjeseni circumstances to repeat the solicitation for an interview with the duke of Portland. That must depend upon your power of adducing facts capable of rebutting the charges which have been advanced against you, or your means of giving to his grace an insight into circumstances whence he may drawr advantage to the public. I must be incom- petent to judge of those particulars.

You desire that I will not pass condemnation upon you unheard: and your further expressions on that point con vince me that it is not merely a general appeal to candor, but an observation upon something which I have said res pectingyou. I should not only have deemed it repugqant to every principle of equity and honor to have pronounced you guilty without having heard your defence, but I had seen too many instances of the frenzy or the profligacy of party in Ireland, to have credited uninvestigated imputa- tions, however confidently urged. The expression in my letter to your brother, to which I am sure you allude, jpugi show you by what supposition I was misled: for when I said that I was satisfied lie had not had any suspicion of the guilt winch you had acknowledged, it is clear that I imag- ined you had confessed your participati::n in theconspir;- iy. Your entering into the engagement to cxpairiai<2 yourself in common with Messrs. O'Connor, Emmet, &c? made every body in this country (and me among th

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Eake it for grouted that yon had confessed, as they did, the being implicated in a correspondence with the French, and in a plot to subvert the constitution of yonr country; crimes of the most heinous nature. It was not until very latch that I was assured you had not made any such avow- al, and that you would not sign the agreement for quitting [reland until government had declared there was not any charge against you beyond that on the ground of libel as manager of the Press. My surprize on the occasion was not greater than my pain at having used to your brother so unjustified an expression. The error which I have ex- plained will, I am certain, sufficiently apologize for me therefore I will only add that I sincerely lament the wound which I see you have felt from that incorrect supposition of nine.

/ hare the honor to be, Sir,

Four most obedient humble servant,

MoiRA.

William Sampson, Esq.

REPLY TO THE ABOVE.

My Lord,

I have received the honor of your iord- ship's letter, dated Donington, December 26. It appears by a mark on the cover to have been missent, and has the Brimingham post mark. I received by the same post, a letter from Mr. Wickham, written by the duke of Port- land's desire, informing me that it was expected I should not use his passport to go any but the most direct road from one place to the other, and particularly not to attempt io go through London. I have thought proper as I do not

WILLIAM SAMPSON1. 81

mean to make any public appeal, at least until a more hap- py occasion, or if that should not present itself until my death, or some other casualty should give publicity to a statement I have left behind, to transmit you a copy of my answer.

Your candor, to whicb I am sure no man can appeal in vain, has acknowledged that you owed me some explana- tion. And I am abundantly gratified with that which yo-.i have given. I have had no correspondence with any pub- lic character in this kingdom but your lordship, except the secretary of state. For troubling you I have both a public and a private motive: ignorance, perhaps, of the sphere in which you act, dictates the first. For, finding that you had taken upon yourself a distinguished post in the at ive service of the king, I conceived that my writing to your lordship could not be taken as any meddling with opposi- tion to government. But that if on the contrary any thing appeared just or meritorious in the view I proposed of opening the eyes of the English ministers as to the pro- ceedings in Ireland, it might have claimed your support. My second motive was, to clear myself from an imputation which I abhor, that of incincerity and ingratitude. Had I, when your lordship was in Ireland and expressed your- self so kindly towards me, been guilty of deceiving you, I should have deserved the worst epitiiet my enemies have bestowed upon me. As far as your necessary reserve and the slightness of my acquaintance would permit, I did im- part exactly what I knew and what I felt. Facts howev- er were what you chiefly desired; and let me ask whether any of those I did procure for your lordship have ever been contradicted? Certain resolutions, touching your lord- ship's motion in the Irish house of lords, passed in a com-.

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mittee of United Irishmen, which were read at some of the stute trials. Your lordship may remember the opinion I gave of the sentiments of that great majority of the Irish people. But further than conjecture I was as ignorant as your lordship, having no place in its organization in any of its branches, either civil or military. Had I been in- strumental in passing such resolutions, I must have been a hypocrite to have visited your lordship upon the footing that I did: and after having assisted you in the collection of the facts which made the ground of your motion, I was not certainly capable of throwing such a bar in the way of its success.

Your lordship has mentioned the names of Messrs. Em- me(, O'Connor, &c. These gentlemen are fitter to justify themselves than I am: one of them I have known most in- timately. No man has ever spoken of his private charac- ter but with admiration. His public opinion I ever knew to be benevolent in the extreme. If he has erred it has not been in his heart. And he who acts purely from his best judgment w~alks by the light which God has given him. Your lordship must feel however as well as I do, that there is something strongly calling for alteration when treason gains the sanction of men's names, whose every step from infancy upwards has been traced by virtue, ge- nerosity and gentleness: and I think he would be the greatest benefactor of any government who would invent some better way of reform than that of making characters, formed to adorn their country and their species, the vic- tims of dungeons and of gibbets. In saying this I do not wish to take upon me the offences of others: I have given, it seems, sufficient offence myself. But no justification of

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 83

mine shall ever be at the expense of those who have paid so dearly for their own.

Your lordship is again led into error in supposing that I was or was even imputed to be the manager of the "Press." That paper was set up when I was in the country; and was continued sometime before I ever saw it. About that time I was exposed by my residence in the country, to hear the grievances and injuries of the oppress- ed. Your lordship, from the comparatively small speci- men you have seen, may judge of what they were; and whether he was more a traitor who could perpetrate, abet, or even calmly look on such crimes, or he who in defi ance of his private interest and at the risque of his per- sonal safety, had courage to express his honest indignation and at any hazard to vindicate the laws of God and man against them. The use I made of the Press was to pub- lish those facts of which you were desirous also to be the publisher; the suppression and consequent impunity of which, you seemed to foresee as well as I did, would lead to rebellion. Many writings however were imputed to me which were disagreeable to me, and which I would have gladly repressed. I had for the rest much less concern with the Press than you conceive, and as proprietor or manager none at all. Many things indeed I did write for it, the whole of which I should have little hesitation to avow.

I have in vain sought for confrontation with my ac- cusers. I have in vain sought to fix them to any one charge, and therefore it is in vain for me to attempt any jus- uncation of a character so truly unimpeached. My conduct at a town meeting of Belfast, respecting the arming of the yeomen, was a thing much dwelt upon. Here is a short statement of it. The magistrates had called a meeting

84 MEMOIRS OF

which, as it concerned every body, Mas attended by several thousand people. I knew the dispositions of those people.. But I solemnly avow that I did not even suspect that there had been at that time any alliance formed with the French. It was a natural supposition that the discontents and anger of the public would, if not softened, lead to it, and upon that view I acted. I was put upon a committee, of which were the sovereign of the town and five other magistrates. The meeting was adjourned, and at the adjourned assem- bly, the sovereign for reasons best known to himself re- fused to take tlic chair. Resolutions bad been handed to me by some of the firmest supporters of the government, a literal copy of what had been drawn up by lord Oneill, but in a stile so moderated that it was scarcely hoped that they could have passed at the county meeting for which (hey were intended. I prevailed so far however in this committee as to have them passed. The meeting was like to become clamorous for want of order: and the soldiers were drawn up under arms, and prepared to fire upon the people. It seemed as if a massacre had been planned, for every usual place of public meeting was shut. I out of humanity did then- expose myself in the open street, in a situation little according with my disposition, and read the resolutions, which after my being voted into the chair, were approved of, and the people dispersed in the most or- derly manner; and after offering to arm as the ancient vo- lunteers had done* declared they would be satisfied with the assurance of a reform for the present: and that they would consider the government by king, lords and com- mons, when wisely administered, as sufficient for their happiness. "What then was my surprise to read a few days afterwards in a newspaper an expression of the,

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 83

chancellor, that the great commercial town of Belfast 'had come to resolutions so treasonable, that he wondered at the mildness of the government that would let the authors of them live! This, however exasperating, produced no retaliation on my part, Thus, if I have been at any time sharper against those I conceived to be acting wrong than a perfectly prudent man might be, it will be generally found that I have been more sinned against than sinning. Subsequent events have not done much discredit to my principles or my foresight. Had those who thought and felt as I did been a little more attended to and less abused or insulted, it might have been better. fSee the Resolu- tions, Appendix JVo. X.J

With respect to parliamentary reform and Catholic emancipation, these notions had been riveted in the public mind by those who are now the king's ministers, long be- fore I took any part in politics. They may be called the leaders of the people in this offence; I cannot; but I thought it a sufficient reason for reclaiming those measures that they were just in themselves: and as I then thought and do still think, would have contented the country. And I thought that every illegal and cruel attack upon those who committed no crime but that of lawfully pursuing such law- ful measures, ought to be resisted.

Did I not determine to put my justification upon none but the broadest and most candid footing, I might excuse myself without offending the administration, by saying ijiat they had information which I had not, and probable cause to infer participation on my part when there was »none. But it is not my way to bow under persecution; I Shall put it upon no such ground. I was on the contrary always of opinion, that no political exigency or necessity

MEMOI&S of

could ever justify violation or torture, many proofs of h, long before any political offence is even imputed to . are in your lordship's possession; many hundreds more in mine.

I shall conclude, by begging of your lordship, as you have been once innocently my accuser, to be now my dc- <>v. not that I expect or desire of you to add the autho- rity of youiMiame to any thing here stated. I should ra- ther that my c;ice stood upon its own intrinsic truth than authority of the greatest name. I only wish that if this letter be satisfactory to your lordship, you may com- municate it to such as your former misapprehension may have confirmed in an unfavorable opinion of me, particu- larly the ladies of your lordship's family, whose good opinion I should be sorry to lose. I shall keep a copy of this, as it contains the outlines and principal part of my »ry: and lest by any accident this should not reach your lordship, I shall deposit the copy with a gentleman )in whom you may one day receive it and some other curious intelligence.

I should add, that Mr. Emmet in one part of his exami- nation (and he was a director of the union) did say, that had reasonable hope of a reform at any time presented it- I self, the connexion with the French would have been broken off. This from a man of known veracity upon his oath, proved very consoling to me for the efforts I had made, and the sufferings I had undergone.

I hare the honor to be, my lord. Ycnir lordship's Most obedient humble servant,

"William Sampson,

WIXMAM SAMPSON. >',7

Now before I suffer the press to resume the series of the letter^ written during my stay in France; and as I ha had occasion to bring Mr. Emmet's name before the pub- lic, there is one fact respecting him which I fee! it as a duty to state.

He with the other leaders of the United Irishmen has been charged with encouraging the crime of assassination, and reference has been made to an anonymous publication called the "Union Star," which was circulated clandes- tinely from time to time, and thrown into the areas or pushed under the doors in the night. One or two numbers of it came to my hands. The reasoning they contained upon the subject of retaliation, was uncommonly nervous and daring. They imputed not to virtue, but to cowar- dice or weakness, that principle which they maintained had no other operation than to arrest the arm of defence and leave the helpless victim at the mercy of the infuriate assailant! They stated, that those who had proclaimed their nation out of the king's peace and suspended the laws, ought not to hope for the protection of laws. They had chosen, they said, to resort to the state of nature, if ever such existed, where there were no laws, and it was at their own peril. Shall they whose unmeasured extortions de- prive, the hungry of food and the naked of covering, whose magnificence is only equalled by the wretchedness of ttiose who pay for it? Shall they, said the author, who support such a system of plunder by a system of universal pros- cription, be held as immortal gods? Shall their persons be inviolate, and the groans of the tortured administer to their repose? Who is he, they said, who can recall the dead to life, and restore to the widow her lost husband, and to the orphan his parent? Where have they learned

8S MEMOIRS OF

to sanctify robbery and to hallow murder? Where ha\ e they Learned that ten thousand innocent poor should die, that one guilty rich should live?

Such were the outlines of this publication, of which I believe the author never was discovered. Some thought it was a stratagem of the government, in order to throw odium upon the opposite cause. To me the arguments seemed too strong and too terribly applicable to wan-ant that supposition. I had upon the subject of these papers several conversations with Mr. Emmet. He was very zealous in his efforts to restrain them, and I believe suc- cessful. And what is more, there was found amongst his papers at his arrestation one drawn up by him and me, and intended to have been subscribed by all whose names could be supposed most influencial amongst the people, which the government with its usual candor took care en- tirely to suppress. The danger we had to avoid was, that of being marked by the government as chiefs: for Ireland has afforded instances enough of men being put to death upon that proof of guilt, that they had been able to save their persecutors lives. So strange and intricate are the ways of guilt, when to save or to destroy are equally crim- inal and fatal. Some of these instances are to be found in Mr. Plowden's history of Ireland, a work which, allowing for the circumstances of the times, the prejudices of which no man can suddenly divest himself; considering that he was an Englishman, writing under the sanction of the Brit- ish government; considering the terror and delusion which has not yet subsided, does him extreme honor.

Others of these facts are to be found in Mr. Hay's ac- count of the proceedings in Wexford, and others in tho

WILLIAM SAMPSON". &9

history of the rebellion, by the Rev. Mr, Gordon. f$& Appendix No. XL J

CONTINUATION OF THE LETTER

LETTER X.

Mr. Wickham — Colonel Edwards — Oporto.

I do not know to what it was owing, uidess to the arime of having corresponded with lord Moira, that I re= ceived the following sharp letter from Mr. Wickham:

TO W. SAMPSON, ESQ..

Sir,

I am directed by the duke of Portland to in- form you, that if you think proper to make use of the pass- port which has been granted, to enable you to proceed fromPullhelly to Falmouth, it is expected that you should take the nearest road from one place to the other; and es- pecially that you should not attempt to go through London. J have the honor to be, sir,

Your most obedient humble servant, 7

Wm. "Wickham.

About this time I found also that my persecutors were not yet asleep in Ireland; for I saw by a newspaper, that lord Clare and some other judges had published an ordei^

M

00 MfcMOIUS 0£

Ehal my name, together with those of Mr. 0' Conner and Mr. Emmet, wore struck out of the list of barristers. I paid little attention to the fact. It is not at present worth disputing: but, I believe it amounts to nearly the same thing as if I had ordered their names to be struck out of the list of judges. The only object it could have was to take advantage of the perversencss of the moment, and the general terror that prevailed, perhaps to surprise some of the judges, who might not know, as I am sure they did not, the iniquities committed against me; and, as far as possible, to put it out of the power of the government itself to make me atonement, should justice ever return, I need not say what was my feeling; for there is only one that such proceeding can excite.

However, in spite of calumny, in spite of prejudice, I lived from the 27th of November, until about the 20th of January, amongst the ancient Britons, in perfect good will and harmony with all of them. Bitter prejudices when overcome, often turn to friendships: and it might have been so with them. I found these people hospitable and good; and I imputed the mischief they had done in my country to the dupery practised upon them; of which they had been themselves the victims. I therefore abstained from all cause of offence towards them, and lamented deep- ly the vicious policy of rulers, who, instead of seeking the common happiness, sow dissentions purposely to weaken the common force, in order to become the common tyrants. I was once, when on a shooting party, introduced into the house of a Mrs. Jones, who received me with the most kind and amiable hospitality. She engaged me to dine, and ordered a pair of her son's boots to be given me to change. The boots indicated an owner of no diminutive

1 WILLIAM SAMPSON". 9-1

'Stature* and I asked if I should have the pleasure of seeing the gentleman they belonged to? I was told, that he was absent for the moment, and that he was a captain in the ancient Britons. See, my friend, to what new dangers I was exposed: what if this lusty ancient Briton had come home and caught me in his hoots! !

Meanwhile, this persecution had extended so far, that some sailors, coming over to navigate the ship in place of others who had deserted her, were stopped on their way; and this merely because they were coming to take away the rebel of whom so much had been published, And a gentleman came once out of breath from Caernarvon to as- sure himself, that I was at Pullhelly. for some travellers had been actually stopped upon suspicion that I was one of them, making my way through the country.

That, however, which put me most at my ease in this crisis, was the protection I received from lieutenant-colonel Edwards, of the Carnarvon militia, who was then at ins country-seat, called Nanhorn, upon leave of absence. He. upon the appearance in his country of so arch a rebel, had written at the same time with me, to the duke of Portland, to know what he should do, for he was the principal magis trate resident in the country. He received for answer, to observe, but not to molest me: he, thereupon, invited me frequently to his house, where I was received by him and his sister, Miss Edwards, an accomplished young lady, po- litely and hospitably, and spent many days at their house; and this intercourse was uninterrupted until their departure for Portsmouth, a few days before my sailing: wrhen, being confined by sickness, they botli did me the honor of a fare- well visit, and the colonel charged himself with a letter to. mv sister at Portsmouth. I mention this circumstance

92 MEMOIRS or

particularly, as compared with what follows; it illustrates the diabolical spirit of my persecution: for, at the time I was buried in the dungeons of the inquisition, from whence probably it was hoped I never should emerge, redress or protection was refused me, because of my improper conduct in Wales. And such was the only account, it is evident, which ever would have been given of me, had my existence ended there.

At length, on the 12th of February, rising from a sick bed, I embarked for Oporto, where I arrived after a pdS^ saste of three weeks,

X.ETTER XI.

Taken prisoner— -Released — Liberality — Mr. Nash—Mbt

Jlorand.

AT Oporto, as might be supposed from'what had gone before, my reception was prepared for me. After be- ing kept several days on board the ship, a party of men? armed with swords, came to take me before the Corrigidor. I insisted on calling on my way upon the English consul, Mr. Whitehead. This gentleman, as was his duty, exam- ined my passports, and certified them to be genuine. And, as it is well known*, that not only on account of the treaties that subsist between the two countries, but of the fear in which this nation stands of England, no British subject ever can be arrested without the privity of the authorities Who are there for his protection: that is, without a warrant

WILLIAM SAMPS03C. 93

from the Judge Conservador. So the interference of Mr. Whitehead for this time protected me. It is true, I was often told afterwards by the Portuguese, that this gentle- man had injured, instead of serving me. I rather think, however, that had others, whose duty it was still more to protect' me, done their part as fairly, I should not have suffered what I did. I was, upon quitting Mr. Whitehead, taken to the Corrigidor's, where, after being detained some time in the vestibule of his palace, I was dismissed. The next difficulty was to find a lodging; for in this coun- try the conveniences of social life arc so little known, that in general to have a lodging you must buy or hire a house and furnish it. There was indeed one hotel for the accom- modation of strangers, called the Factory-House. But it was given me to understand, that it would not be proper for me to go there, on account of my principles. In short, all the little dirty arts of the lowest malice had been put in practice, to strew my way with thorns. In this exigence, Mr. Miler, the gentleman to whom the ship that brought me was consigned, made me an invitation to live with him, which I accepted.

Amongst the persons of great respectability to whom I had brought letters was Mr. Thomas Nash, an English merchant. Nothing could exceed the delicacy and at the same time the cordiality witli which he came forward with offers of friendship and good counsel. It was by his ad- vice that I determined to remain in Oporto, rather than go to Lisbon or elsewhere. He proposed going early in the spring to. his country house at St. Juan de Foz, and invited me to consider myself as one of his family. I thereupon wrote to my wife to come with her children and enjoy the tranquility so dearly purchased. Mr. Nash charged him-

04 MEMOIRS 0*

self with folding us a habitation near his own. The invi* tation was seducing, ami rendered more so by the good- ness of his very amiable lady. Indeed I have seen few happier pictures of domestic life than their fire side. . Tho social bonds become, it would seem, more sacred in a for- eign soil: and the ties of kindred and of tenderness draw more close as the objects of dissipation are more few. This respectable man found his pleasures in his honorable industry, and plenty in a prosperous commerce: living in as much elegance as gives grace to hospitality, and as much luxury as is compatible with virtue: and prolonging these blessings through a future generation, in the con- templation of a lovely offspring.

My course of life was in the mean time as innocent as could well be. My chief pleasure was sailing upon the river in a little boat; and my companion, an unfortunate French abbe, like me banished from his country, and like me desirous of fatiguing his body for the repose of his mind, and losing his cares amidst the amusing and cap- tivating scenery that adorned the banks of this tine river. This gentleman had received a good education, and was not at a loss for abundant topics of conversation, without touching the contentious ones of politics and religion. The abbe was besides acquainted with the management of the boat, young and robust, and as such essential for the .service: and upon the whole, though we had come there by such different roads, it was wonderful how well we agreed and understood each other; for he neither sought to make a prosclite of me nor I of him. We lived in the time spirit of christian toleration. My man, John Russel, also vol- unteered, more from love of me than of the element, and wetnuee formed an epitome of my country, where the law

XyiZLIXtt SAMPSON. 95

and the gospel predominate, and the rest of the community suffer. The abbe Morand is since, by the wiser policy of the present government of France, recalled into his coun- try. His opinions were his only crimes: and let opinions be good or bad, it is not persecution that will change them. For a proof of this we need not go beyond the history of my miserable country, and the pitiful and hateful policy by which it has ever been insulted.

So rigorous an adherence to an agreement so disenter- estedly formed, and so shamefully perverted, a life so harm- less and obscure, might have sheltered me from further violence. The great work of war and extermination might have gone on; the same hundreds of thousands might have been "killed off; the same hundreds of millions been added to the debt of England; all the crowned heads of Europe might have sat upon their thrones; and the king of Great-Britain, as whose enemy, his and my enemies and the enemies of human kind were willing to persecute me, might have moved from one of Ms palaces to another, He might have gone from Kew to St. James's, whilst I went in my cock-boat from Oporto to St. Johns, without interruption on my side, or any ground of displeasure on his, had it not been determined by my enemies that my per- secution was not to end here.

te

MEMOIRS 01

LETTER XII,

.izaln imprisoned — l'alace — Prison — Corrtgidor — King—* Queen — Prince — Variety.

ON the 22d of March, my schemes of pleasure were cut short by a visit from the Vice-Corrigidor, with a party of armed men, who seized me and my servant, and made a vigorous search for papers, shaking out every article of my linen, in hopes of finding some concealed writing. The in- terpreter told me, without reserve, that I was arrested by order of the English minister, for something I was sup- posed to be writing. All the papers I had were in my travelling secretary, lying open before me. I numbered them and gave them up, and was conducted to the Corrigi- dor's house, which was now to be my prison.

Tliis mansion exhibited no bad picture of a despotic country. One half was a prison, the other a palace, and the entrance in the centre was in common, and manv of the household services were performed by convict slaves, whose chains clinked as they went. For me, however, a handsome audience hall (or, if I may profane the word, a court of justice) was fitted up, and bolts newly put upon the doors. My servant, who certainly was not writing any thing against the government, was nevertheless thrown amidst the malefactors ^i irons below; but afterwards, at my entreaty, allowed to come into the room with me: and from first to last I was in this palace treated with a degree of respect, magnificence, and gallantry, liker the old times of chivalry, or of faries, than what I had been used to in bridewell, under Mr. M'Dougall and Mr. Trevor j or even

WELlIAM SAMI'SOST. Of

in the hands of Mr. Wilson at Carlisle. Even now the re- collection of it fills me with admiration. I had a guard during the day, hut not an armed one. This circumstance was rather favorable, as it gave me a means of conversing and learning the language; and my guard of the forenoon being relieved by one of the afternoon, and every day a new change, I had a variety of company. Besides the Maitre d'Hotel, who was charged to do the honors of the house to- wards me, I had seven or eight servants to wait at break- fast and dinner, and was served with every thing that was best from the table of the Corrigidor. Whether I owed this to the munificence of the Fidalgo, or to the interference of my friends, or to the interposition of the British Consul, I cannot say; but it was a style of imprisonment highly flat- tering: yet for which, having an incurable love of liberty rather than of compliments, I fear I have not been suffi- ciently grateftd.

My guards were clerks of the police and the customs. But part of their duty was to wait in the anti-chamber of the Fidalgo. Although they conversed freely upon com- mon subjects, they were most impenetrably secret upon whatever it concerned me to know. At first it was told me, without hesitation, that I was arrested by orders from England; they said from the king of England. But the manner in which I reproved this assertion, prevented the repetition of it. Though I had received no benefits, I told them, from the king of England, nor no favors from his ministers, for which I should feel myself called upon to de- fend them; nevertheless, such a charge as this was too gross to be endured; that it was but a few weeks since I came into Portugal, sanctioned by their passports; and by an agreement to which the king himself, and the parlia*

98 MEMOIRS OF

mcnt, and the ministers, were all pledged. And I repeated to them the words of lord Clare — "That the government which conld violate an engagement so solemnly entered in-' to, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand." And 1 told them, that they would see, when the British ambassador at Lisbon received the letters of my friends, informing him of tlfis proceeding, how nobly he would vindicate the dig- nity of the king his master, and the honor of his nation.

This harrangue could have no merit but the spirit with which it was pronounced. I was at that time sitting up in my bed, and I could observe that the by-standers, who had gathered round me, were at least in some astonishment: . for it was almost the first time I had ventured to make a discourse in Portuguese: some effect it certainly produced, for next day I was told that it was the queen of Portugal who did not like me, which was still more afflicting to me: for I am sure I could not live if the fair sex were to hold me in displeasure; much more if it were queens.

It is true the son of this illustrious personage, the prince of Brazil, has since, on taking the reins of the government, been forced to declare,. that he had from tenderness to his loyal mother, suffered her to govern the Portuguese people for seven years, though in a state of insanity. This might be some consolation to me, for had this royal lady been in her right mind, she would not certainly have given herself the trouble of being angry at me. It is however a melan- choly consolation that is derived out of the misfortunes of princes. Sometimes they said the king of Portugal was not willing that I should stay in his country: but as there was no king in Portugal, I could see clearly that this was not true. In the mean time, however, couriers went and returned

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 99

from Lisbon; and I was told that my fate depended upon their news. At length I was for the first time in my life brought to trial, of, which I must give you a summary re- port.

LETTER XIII.

Report of my Trial — Mr. Sealy.

THE same minister who came formerly to arrest me, came now with the same interpreter to judge me. He asked me my father's name, my mother's name, their calling and my calling. I was obliged to declare that I wasjiUio dum padre; literally the son of a father, but fi- guratively the son of a priest. And I fear this heresy in my nativity might have done me no service. I was then asked why I was so dangerous that I could not get leave to live in my own country? To which I answered, that my conduct since I had been in Portugal had been the very reverse of dangerous: and the respect due to the king of England and the government of my country should stand in place of an answer to such questions, because it would be supposing a bad compliment to the queen of Portugal, and such as the king of England, who was a gallant mon- arch, was incapable of paying her majesty to send a dan- gerous subject into her kingdom to live; and not only to live, but to take security from him that he would live there and no where else. And then I told my judge about lord Castlereagh and the law secretary, Mr. Marsden;

.•

-

Mr.MOTKS OF

how they bad taken so many months to consider how to draw up that security; all which time I was obliged to re- main in gaol; and that in the end all they had done was, Id 1 a- c out some words of lord Cornwallis, which seemed to imply a doubt that I might be sent away by the Portu- guese government; so sure were they that I would not be r.whsk'J: but on the contrary*, that I should find protection i a the passport they had given me.

I then asked my judge in my turn, whether he had ever heard of any crime I had committed, either in my country or his? In this country, certainly not, said he. I then ed hint whether the passports of the viceroy of Ireland and the king's secretary in England, were not the most certain proofs that I had nothing to answer for in Eng- land. And I also reminded him how highly injurious it would be to the king of England to try his subjects coming there with such passports, for what could in no shape concern any but him and them. He then asked me whether the duke of Portland was qualified to give pass- ports? or if it was not alderman James of Dublin? I could not help smiling at this strange question: but in truth this little presumptuous faction in Ireland, from the habit of insulting their fellow-citizens with impunity, had, I dare say, by their organized partisans, some of whom are to be found in all countries, arrogated to themselves the entire sovereignty in every department and in every region, without being able to foresee how short their reign was to be or how near the day of their humiliation was at hand. I have often thought it curious to see how in all cases they applied the word government to their purposes. Every man in place down to the collector of the hearth money,

lied himself government. Every man. and there were

WILLIAM SAMPSON". 101

too many who shared the public plunder., was government. Every man in a red coat was government. Every turn- key was government. Every hired informer was govern- ment. Every Hessian soldier was government. Every centry-box was government. Judge then how imposing and awful a name must that be of an alderman of the loyal and magnanimous corporation of Dublin. But to finish; the judge produced a letter from a. Mr. Sealy of Lisbon, which I had sometime before received in answer to one of mine to him. In it was this phrase: "I cannot on account of my political principles comply with your request." I was called upon to explain these mysterious words, and my trial seemed now to be narrowed to this point, what Were Mr. Sealy's principles and my request. I certainly know nothing of Mr. Sealy's political principles: but if I were to judge from the specimen he gave me of his breed- ing and his sense, I should not think favorably of them. I had been furnished by one of his friends with a credit upon his house, and also with a private recommendation to him. Mr. Nash having determined me to stay at Opor- to, offered himself to be my banker, and advised me mere- ly to send forward my letter of recommendation to Mr, Sealy, and to request of him to give me on the credit of it some introductions to his friends in Oporto; and took up- on himself to enclose the letter, with many obliging ex- pressions touching me. His answer, which now became the subject of my interrogatories and -the head of accusa- tion, shews only one thing, namely, how dangerous* it is in every case to be exposed either to the vulgar or the vicious.

This imprisonment, though not painful in itself, filled me on account of my wife, whom I daily expected, with

102 memoirs of

■y great disquietude. She who had been reared in the !np of indulgence and never known either hardship or pri- vation, might with her helpless infants arrive in this coun- try and find me in a prison, and perhaps something even worse. She might be exposed to other chances; be taken prisoner into some other country, where either she might not be able to hear of me, or if she did, might only hear lhat which would afflict her still the more. I urged this to my judge, who said he would represent it with the state- ment of my answers, which he had caused to be written down, to his superior, and so finished my trial. But this painful consideration and the close confinement again af- fected my health. The pain in my chest encreased: I lost all appetite, and certainly a few weeks more would have put an end to all my persecutions.

LETTER XIV.

Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Comedians, Friars, #c.

A Doctor was, however, upon great entreaty, allow- ed to give me a plaister for my breast. I was permitted, but only in the presence of the interpreter, to receive a visit from Mr. Nash. It had been the day before pro- posed to me to set out for Lisbon, where it was said I should see the English and Portuguese ministers ami be set at liberty. Mi*. Nash exhorted me strongly to accept of the proposal, and told me he, had conferred on the sub- ject with the corrigidor, who was exceedingly concerned

wiiitiAM sampsox. 10;.

and interested for me, and who had shewn him all my papers assorted in the most favorable order, which would be returned to me on my arrival at Lisbon: that there should be but one gentleman to conduct me and my man, and that I should pay my own expenses and be without restraint: that at Lisbon I should be set free, or that th very worst that could happen, would be to send me to. Eng- land, where I should remain in peace with my family; or if that was disagreeable to me, to some neutral country which I should prefer, perhaps Hamburg. He even went so far as to say that he would pledge his word of honor and be answerable with his heart's blood that no mischief whatever should happen to me. All this he said with an air of kindness and sincerity, which made a strong im- pression on me; and added, seizing both my hands affec- tionately, that if my wife should arrive after my departure,* she should find in him a brother and in Mrs. Nash a sister. And also that he would charge himself with forwarding any letters or commissions or any effects I might leave behind me. The candid and kind manner in which he expressed himself, put it out of my power to reply. It might appear headstrong and even ungenerous not to ac- quiesce; and I instantly consented. Though long perse- cution had taught me to distrust, and I boded secretly some perfidy which I did not chuse to hint at; but the se- quel will shew how true those boilings were.

The following morning, being the first of April, I wa? called up; and on looking out of my window perceived that I was to have three men armed to escort me; but of this I made no complaint. The wreather was cold and un- settled; and not daring to expose myself to the rain, in the feeble state of my health, I travelled in a machine in use

1<)4

MEMOIRS 0*

in that country called a Jitter, suspended between two mules; at the side of which walked a fellow with a stick, who did nothing but curse and beat these poor animals. My sonant was mounted on a mule as were all the others except the courier, the chief of the expedition, who rode on a poney.

Were I writing a work of fancy, there would be ample matter in the history of our caravan. We were joined at the ferry by two Dominican friars; the prior and a novi- ciate of the convent of Villa Real. In their conversation I found great resource, as by means of the Latin language I could express the names of many things which I did not know in the Portuguese. They seemed very kind-hearted; and when in conversation I mentioned the misfortunes of my country, of which mine were but a slight instance, and particularly the state of cruel proscription in which those of the Catholic faith were held in their native land, I could perceive the tears more than once to start in the eyes of the young man.

We had some persons of an opposite calling to that of the good fathers; a family of Italian comedians. From one of the ladies, with whom I had an opportunity of con- versing as we walked together one day along the road, I found that they had been invited by the corrigidor to 0- porto. That he, without knowing their language or their art, had taken upon him to manage their opera, and fin- ished by putting them in prison for not giving full execu- tion to his conceptions. From this prison they had been at length delivered, and were making the best of their way to the frontiers.

There were also some of a meaner description; such as fish-carriers, carrying eels as a present to some Fidalgo

WILLIAM SAMPSON'. |0i

from the corrigidor: also a mulatto woman* following her husband (a soldier) to Lisbon, and a poor barefooted Gal- lego going to seek for work in the same metropolis. This latter danced and sung before us the whole way; and was, though the most despised, doubtless the most happy of the party. At our table, between couriers, scribes, friars and comedians, mule-drivers, litter-driver, and their valets, we sat down together to dinner, seldom less than fifteen persons; and our constant repast, twice in the day, was boiled fowls buried in greasy yellow rice, of which I scarcely tasted. At night we of the higher sort lay down promiscuously on the floor, where mattresses of straw were laid, the inns affording nothing better; for there was but one inn on all the way in which there was a bedstead

In return for this I was quite unrestrained upon the road. As often as I chose I got out to walk; sometimes mounted the mule of my servant, but oftener the horse of the courier, on which occasions I had a sword and a case of pistols before me. I got leave to walk about the towns with one of my guards, and in Coimbra I bought some books, and conversed with some of the students of the uni- versity in a coffee-house; and it was every where given out, that I was a grandee going to the minister of state.

After seven days travelling we arrived in the metropolis. The friars took leave of me at the last stage. The come- dians had staid behind to give a concert at Coimbra. The fish carriers had long since disappeared. The MuV jattress and the Gallego had abandoned me to my fortune, and there remained but such mules, mule-driver's valets, scribes, couriers, &c. as were in my immediate pay. The courier rode on, as he said, to announce me to the minis- ter; but upon entering the suburbs I saw him waiting for

[06

MtMoins or

as at the cud of a street, and then drawing up with the rest in regular order of procession.

I was conducted through a number of dirty streets, to the foot of a frightful prison, where my future house-mates were eyeing me through their hars. I asked the Courier, if that was his minister's hotel? He answered, no: for the minister, he said, was not ahle to receive me, nor to see me this evening, being very busy: hut that I was going to lodge in a fine apartment, built for kings and queens. I asked him, if I was going to gaol? and he denied it, saying, that this was not a gaol, but a castle: that the minister would come to see me in the morning, and that in the mean time they would all go and announce my arrival to the English ambassador.

I need not tell you, that I was not the dupe of this mum- mery. I was taken into a great hall, where was an old man, who deliberately putting on his spectacles and opening a book, asked me my name, my country, and some other im- pertinent questions. I asked him if there were lodgings bespoke for me by the minister, who was to come and visit me in the morning? He said he knew nothing of the mat- ter. I then asked him, if he knew who I was? He said no: why then do you detain me in prison, without knowing who I am? He continued his work, searching my trunks and my secretary; took away every thing that was of metal or glass; and the guides withdrawing to announce me, as they said, to the English ambassador, he offered to conduct me to my room. Before I went, I told him I should wish to have a little explanation with him, but would have need for that of some person who could do the office of interpre- ter. He asked me in what language? and I said, either in English or French. A French captain of a privateer, a

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 107

•prisoner of war, was then called upon. After assuring myself that no other person then-present spoke French. I profited by the moment, to request that he would watch where they were about to put me, and if possible to find means of speaking with me, as I had been a victim of the most frightful perfidy, and had reason to expect foul play. I was then taken through a long filthy passage to a dun- geon: the smell of this approach, which was infectious, gave but a disagreeable presentiment of the dwelling to which it led: nor was the presage deceitful. A door of solid wood was first opened, and then a heavy iron gate, in which was an opening or flat hole made by the divergent direction given to the bars, through which a plate or trencher could be thrust, in every thing resembling the den of a wild beast. The floor was damp; there was no chimney nor window; but high up, next the springing of the arch, for it was vaulted, was a square hole; and that the sky as well as earth might be hid from the tenant of this gloomy cell, a wall was built up before the opening. Nor were the other senses more regaled: the roaring noise of prisoners, the clinking of chains and the ringing of bars, was all that could be heard.

There was however allowed me a chair and a little table; and I had a small travelling mattress, which had first served me on board of ship, afterwards at the inns on the road, and now more essentially here. This I obtained per- mission to have spread upon the damp floor. My servant was taken to the house of the minister of the police, in spite of his entreaties to remain with me. There he met -a negro servant who spoke English and told him that lie need fear nothing, for we were in a Christian country. John asked him, if he knew where his master and lie Mere

108 MEMOIRS piE

to be sent; whether it was to England or to Hamburg? other said to a better country than either. He asked him, it' it was to Spain? and he answered, perhaps so, or to a better country stilh But as to me, I was not favored with any explanation.

The first thing I requested to have was some tea, which was brought with bread and some butter upon a cabbage leaf. I asked for a knife, which was refused: I then had recourse to my penknife. They desired to see it, laid hold of it and kept it And one of them asked if I had gar- ters; for that I must give them up. My patience forsook me, and I asked them whether it was with the intention to assassinate me, that they would deprive me of every means of self-defence; or if they meant to put in practice some atrocity, such as they supposed might drive me to despair, that in such case it was better to meet danger than to fly from it: and that they should therefore find, from the les- son I should give them, that I was of a country where for- tune had sometimes failed, but courage never.

Happily this scene had no tragical catastrophe: for after the first surprise seignior Joseph Timudo, the deputy- gaoler or book-keeper, the same who had first written down my name with Joachim; the principal turnkey, both approached with extended arms and embraced me, adding these flattering words "gusto multo esto genie:" I love those people greatly. I now had credit enough to borrow my own penknife, to eat my bread and butter, but was watch- ed all the time by four or five of them, and surrendered it up when I had done.

Shortly after I was left alone a voice spoke through the outer key-hole. It was the French captain, to tell me to arm myself with couraee, for it was said that it was I who

WILXIAM SAMPSON. 109

had made tli,e revolution in Holland, I had only time to answer that it was not true, and that I had never been in Holland, when he was obliged to run away.

Next morning my doors were opened by a new set of turnkeys (for they changed daily) who saluted me with many nauseous compliments; each asking me in his turn if I had passed the night well. My first care was to see whether I could not by money, although I had but little.?, ransom myself from this dungeon. I was told the principal governor, seignior Francisco, was then in the country- hut expected shortly. I asked when the minister was to come to see me; and they still said in a few days, but that lie had too much business at present.

At length I was fortunate enough to obtain an audience of Seignior Francisco, I requested him to put me in some place where I should have good air to breathe; a view less melancholy, and the society of some person, if such there were, like myself, imprisoned without crime, or at least without any crime that was degrading. He promised me all this, and mentioned some one of my own country, who was imprisoned, he said, for something, as he understood of a similar nature. I was then taken up stairs to a very small room, where was a Mr. M'Dermott, a master taylor and inn-keeper, whose beard was long and bushy, and whose crime was free-masonry.

Had I been a brother mason I might have derived, per- haps, some mysterious consolation from this adventure. As it was, it was a relief to hear a human voice, instead of spending day after day, and night after night, in frightful solitude. Mr. M'Dermott, my new companion, had lived long in the island of Madeira as well as in Lisbon. His ? conversation was not barren of anecdote and amusement,

liT< MEMOIRS Of

and the window afforded a beautiful view of the river: but to enjoy that, it was necessary to rlimb up and crouch in it. The principal objection was that ourtwfl mattresses cover- ed almost the entire floor., so that there was no room for ex- ercise; and Ibis forced me to lie upon the bed, and augment- ed the complaint in my chest

But whatever consolation I found in the society of my present companion, one circumstance in his case gave me sensible uneasiness. Whilst he was in secret here,, his wife and children were confined in another prison for the same crime, or for misprison of free-masonry. And lie never could obtain so much from the keepers, as to know whether she was enlarged or not. One day, when any thing was sent to liim by his friends, he thought to have discovered in a handkerchief or a napkin a proof that she Was free: and the next day he was certain of the contrary. This barbarity towards the wife and children of a man charged only with free-masonry, was a bad omen for mine should she come to this poor country*

One night my companion was raised from his bed- hand-cuffed and taken through the streets to a judge's house to trial. He told me on his return what passed. He was asked many questions touching the danger of free- masonry to church and king; to which he opposed the in- stances of kings and princes that were grand master ma- sons: and used other arguments, so Well put and so well taken, that he obtained, not his enlargement nor that of his wife and children, nor any permission to hear from or to see them, nor any assurance against their transportation or his, but an indulgence, of which I profited as well as he, a permission to be shaved. About this time my health suffering greatly from close

WIT.T.TAM SAMPSON. Ill

confinement, I demanded another audience of seignioi Francisco, and obtained by like persuasion, to be changed into a very spacious room, commanding a beautiful pros- pect of the harbor, the country and a great part of the city. There were at least eight great windows without glass; but secured with immense bars of iron lengthways on the outside, and a massive cross-grate within: and the wall was so thick, that one might have lived in the space between as in a cage. Upon the whole however it was clean and healthy. I need not observe that there was no glazed windows, and this for two reasons: First, that such an article of luxury has yet been but sparingly introduced into this kingdom. And secondly, because according to customs of Portugal those committed to prison by the min- ister of the police, arc for that reason alone put into secret; and being so they are not to be trusted with any thing so dangerous as glass, lest they might find the means of evad- ing the object of their imprisonment, and rescuing them selves from misery by death.

But what rendered this place still more commodious was three little recesses which belonged to it, which might serve as bed-chambers. One of these was allotted to me, another to my servant, and the third had been for some

time occupied by a young Danish nobleman, Mr. A ,

who had been imprisoned here to screen him from the con- sequences of some military insubordination, in an emi- grant regiment, into which his distresses had driven him for refuge. Seignior Francisco, before he agreed to re- move me into this new apartment, had apprised me of the company I was to have. He told me that this gentleman, who was also a grandee of his country, had been recom- mended to him by his ambassador. That the only thing

! I : MEMOllib Ot

ihiit could be disagreeable to me in his society was his tou.

at relish for wine. He told me to be cautious of offer- ing him any means of exceeding; and told me moreover, that the cause of his quitting his own country, where he had been of the corps of chasseurs nobles, was a quarrel and a duel in which, I understood, he had killed his man; and the cause of his being in Portugal, the accidental cap- ture of a ship in which he was a passenger. And upon the whole, that unless rendered dangerous by wine, his disposition was kind and amiable; and all this I found afterwards to be true.

"When the gaoler first presented me to him and asked his consent that we should live together, he was reading in Ills bed. There was ill his countenance a look of sullen indignation, which softened greatly towards me. We were recommended to each other as two grandees of different countries, but under a common misfortune; and I had the satisfaction to find Mm as well pleased as I was with the new arrangements.

But his dislike to the Portuguese was immoderate; and

often as the turnkeys came at night to ring the iron

■s and wish us good rest, or with similar offensive com- pliments to examine if we were in our beds in the morning; still more, whenever he sat down to table, he was unable to contain himself; less so still when they went through the daily exercises of Godliness in obliging the prisoners to sing prayers. On these occasions, one of the keepers stood over them with a stick, and wherever there was any lag- ging of devotion lie quickened it with a blow. This in- strument, you may suppose, produced an effect more strong than pleasing, to express which there is no term of music

other art that I know of. I never coidd distinctly her.)

WILLIAM sAMrsosr. . 1 1 }%

the more delicate modulations, in which I had doubtless a great loss. Nor could I distinguish the words, but I imagined they were Latin, and as. such entitled to my res- pect. Taken altogether with the clinking of the chains and the sound of the cudgel, it was very far short of what we may conceive of choiring angels. The thing might please God Almighty, inasmuch as it was done with that intention; but it certainly contributed nothing to the re- creation of my afflicted companion, the noble Dane, whose gratification, it was evident, had not been at all consulted.

Another institution which displeased him,, and me no less, was in a strong building touching this gaol, and I believe making part of it, and projecting from it at a right angle. This was a place of surety for locking up married ladies, such as the wives of sea-captains and others, who went on voyages; to be kept safely until the return of then- husbands. We had more than once an opportunity of see- ing some of them, when on certain holy-days and Sundays, they were allowed to come for a few minutes to a balcony which looked into a waste piece of ground. And I could not but have a fellow-feeling for them: for if beauty wras the crime for which they suffered, I can with my hand upon my heart, and with all truth and certainty, bear wit- ness in their favor, that they were as innocent of the charge as I was of high treason.

My situation, however, was changed for the better, in so much that John, who wras hitherto excluded, was nov permitted to imprison himself with me. He was allowed also to go out to the market, but as he did not know a word of the language, I could profit little by that indul- gence. I desired him to go rather to the Exchange, and. enquire from any English gentleman he might happen to

I I H MEMOIRS 01

see there, whether there were any passengers arrived by the packets, and it' possible to have some news of his mis- tress. He did so, and was questioned in his turn. He had the satisfaction to hear some persons express them- selves with courage and indignation at the treatment I had suffered; hut he had also more occasions than one to prove how thick the black spell of terror was cast around me. For in this country, as it had been in mine, to communi- cate with a secret prisoner is to brave destruction. I shall relate, to you a short anecdote, which may very well serve to illustrate this observation.

W hilst I was locked up with the free-mason, I heard two men talking without upon a terrace opposite the win- dow: they did not see us, for there were two buttresses or blinds built up to prevent any communication with oth cr parts of the prison: but as I heard them abusing the minister and calling him by the gross epithet of fillio du puta (son of a wh— e) I thought that those who disrespect- ed him so much, might have some feeling for such as he oppressed. I called to them and requested they would speak to me. They came, and at first were affable enough. They asked me if I was a Frenchman, suppos- ing me probably to be oidy a prisoner of war? I an- swered that I was not, but an unfortunate stranger* put into secret without any crime or charge whatever; and that I could not even have the satisfaction of getting any per- son to speak to: nor I either, says one of them, will not speak to you, and in an instant they both disappeared.

After being now for so long a time deprived of all means of writing, paper, pen and ink were now set designedly before me; I did not attempt to profit by it, as I feared to commi*

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. i 1 5

any person in my misfortunes, and bad made tip my mind to wait patiently the denouement.

There was employed to sweep the room, and afterwards through negligence or intention, to keep the key, a Rus- sian, ^convicted of robbery. He had been a sailor in the English navy, and spoke English fluently: he also spoke the Portuguese sufficiently, and the Danish and German, besides his own, and possibly some other languages. He made no denial of his crime, which was that of having taken a man's watch and pushed him in the water. He contented himself, which was better, with giving it a fa- vorable version and a delicate turn. He was notwith- standing of an order superior to the rest. He was zealous and compassionate, even without interest. He often en- treated me to be kind to the unfortunate gentleman beside me, and was officious in stealing a cup of tea to my first companion, M'Dermott. He at different times borrowed money from me to lay out in candles and tobacco, in which articles he dealt: but always, unless when he had an un- fortunate run at play, repaid me honorably. He gave me once a particular proof of his skill in his art: for after telling me a touching story of a poor prisoner in secret who wished to write to his wife, he borrowed a little silver- ed ink-bottle from my secretary, which had been shortly before restored to me; and having lost that, he borrowed the sand bottle, its companion, as a model to have it re- placed, leaving me in some regret for my loss,, but in .grand admiration of his talents and resources.

He besides possessed a subtle diplomatic cast of mind; and seeing my reluctance to write, he was employed to bend me to the purpose in hand. Are you not, says he, a British subject; and have you not your minister to apply

lib MEMOIRS OF

to? No British subject can be arrested here, but by the* warrant of the Jiulgc Conservador; and if he is, the Eng- lish minister lias but to speak one word, and he is set at liberty. I speak from what I know, says he, for I have seen many English prisoners here, and that has always been the ease; You must have committed some terrible crime and ran away from your country without any pass- port, and that makes you afraid to speak.

I listened with astonishment to a discourse so ingenious, and answered bluntly, that I had committed no crime, nor was charged with none; that I had not run away from my country, but had come with the most authentic pass- ports; that I was not afraid to speak to any minister or to any man living; but that Mr. Walpole was to my certain knowledge as well informed of every thing respecting me as any letter of mine could make him. God help you then, says he, for you will be sent like a convict over the bar! He added, that though it was as bad as death to him if it was discovered that he let me write* nevertheless he would incur the risque for my sake.

My reluctance to write to Mr. "Walpole arose from the itmost moral certainty that I could tell him nothing new: besides I had seen in a newspaper which the Danish gen- tleman had received from his ambassador, that the state prisoners of Ireland, in violation of the pledged faith of government and the honor of lord Cornwallis, had been transported to a fortress in the Highlands of Scotland.

To the agreement made with them, as I have before said, i.hc faith of government and the honor of lord Cornwallis had been pledged in such a manner, that the chancellor Clare, who negotiated for the lord lieutenant, had made

b of those memorable words. It comes to this, "Eithet

WXtllAM SAMPSON. 11T

you must trust the government, or it must trust you: and the government that could violate an engagement so solemnly en- tered into, could neither stand nor deserve to stand." Such was the sacred character given to this engagement, fed which. I was also a party, hy the minister who was the agent in it. Another of these ministers, lord Castlereagh, as I have before stated, acknowledged to another of the prisoners (Doctor M'Nevin) "that they (the prisoners ) had honorably fulfilled their part," and assured them, "that the government would as religiously observe its part." And Mr. Cooke oidy desired to know of the prisoners "how much time would be necessary for them to dispose of their property previous to their going abroad." Yet now I found that they were, in defiance of every obligation by which men not lost irredeemably to honor could be bound, to be once more emerged in dungeons; and now, at the time I write to you, four long years of the flower of their lives have been consumed in hard captivity!

Of what avail then, to draw distinctions between their case and mine? To say that I did not invite the French* that I had labored to save the lives of my enemies, that I had endeavored to prevent both civil war or bloodshed, that I had sacrificed every thing to love and compassion for my country. If the certainty that I was pure, hu- mane and disinterested, could be any protection to me, it would have been so to others; for amongst those immolated to the daemon of destruction, were men of as perfect truth, and as exalted virtue, as ever yet the light of heaven had shone on. No! but the love of country was the general crime. Corruption was the thing to be destroyed or be maintained; and those who lived by it, who rioted in it, could never forgive those who would oppose it. This wtii

118 MEMOIKS OF

tfie great secret. They knew it and 1 knew it. But they knew that I had exposed it with some effect, and I was ncvetf to be forgiven. I might indeed, and could upon just occasion, forgive; but they could not.

"Forgiveness to the injured does belong; "They never can forgive that do the wrong." \

I scorned, therefore, to draw any distinction between

my rase and that of any other of the prisoners. They were rebels undoubtedly, and so was I. I had not invited the French; but my enemies had invited the Hessians, And I did not hesitate to say, that in the general prostra- tion of law, constitution, humanity and justice; whilst the heaven was red with the corruscations of cottages in ilainer-, and the earth crimsoned with the blood of human victims; whilst the groans of those agonizing in torture, ascended with the thick smoke that rolled as the incense of cannibals to the idols of their bloody worship; when justice winked as she went by, and villany exulted; and the tears of innocence deflowered, dropped heedless and unavenged upon the blood-stained earth; whilst the dark- ness alone sheltered the houseless fugitives from their pur- suers, and the despairing mother, lurking in the hiding places of the wild tenants of the fields, stretched out her powerless hands to feel if her shivering offspring, without other covering than the mantle of the night, were yet alive and near her! I did not hesitate to say, in such a moment, ive must rebel! we must not be disarmed! Whatever spe cious pretext may be urged for the commission of such rrimes, they are not to be endured bv honorable men: but if they be committed in furtherance of usurpation and of fobbery, they are to be resisted as treasons of the blackest

die. Horrid alternative! On the one hand stood rebellion , onf the other treason and murder! The fury of party left no middle course. I preferred rebellion to murder and treason, and it is for this that traitors have called me traitor, whilst I have cast the appellation in their teeth. 1 do call heaven to witness, that in whatever I have done against my enemies, further than a few sportive sallies of imagination, with which I have been charged, I have nev- er listened to any other voice than that of conscience;., and that neither interest nor resentment ever governed me, nor did I yield too easily to the warm feelings of my heart. I never acted but from conviction that I was scrupulously right. It required courage to face the dangers of those times; and,

"Where I could not bb just, I never yet was

VALIANT."

I would not willingly be a rebel; yet if driven to the cru- el extremity of deciding between treason and rebellion, I felt for which I was best fitted, and that I should rather die a rebel, than live a traitor. You may judge, however, with what confidence I could address a minister, whom I knew to be already in possession of my case; and who had, for so great a length of time, left it unnoticed, and me un- protected. Yet that no blame might be imputed to me hereafter, for my omitting to accept of this occasion, or any pretext remain to my enemies to misrepresent the facts, I consented, as you shall be informed in my next.

MEMOIRS OF

LETTER XV.

Mr, Walpolc — 4 Trick — Minister of Police — Correspond cnce — Sweet Meats.

I began my letter to Mr. Walpote, by referring him to the communications which I knew had been already made to him: reminding him, very respectfully, of the pro- tection it was his duty to afford me, and how little it would tend to his good reputation hereafter, when better times should come, and enquiries be made, to have been consent- ing to so very refined and barbarous an execution, of a man to whom he could impute no crime. I told him, moreover, of the dangerous state of my health, and requested, that since^ he] would fnot see me, a medical person might at' least be allowed to visit me. I added, that upoi the faith of a solemn agreement, I had written to my wife and children to come to me. And that all communicatioi between us having been intercepted, I remained in a statt of most cruel uncertainty, and therefore begged for permis- sion to write, in order to prevent, if it were not yet tot late, so great a calamity. I told him, that cut off fron all pecuniary resources, I wished to discharge a servant, who had already, for being my servant, suffered torture and imprisonment; and that my papers, which were the guarantees of my personal safety, being seized, I begged they might be restored to me. For the rest, I was better pleased to remain where I now was, than to be exposed tc any new insult or atrocity.

Willi AM SAMPSON. 121

A messenger was called who, instead of taking my letter ■to the British ambassador, took it to the intendente of the police, which I discovered from him on his return to bo paid, and complained of it to the gaolers. They all with one consent set up a hyprocritical lamentation for the ruin brought upon them by permitting me to write. I paid no more regard to this, than to any other of their vile farces, but offered Joachim a cruxada nova, to carry another letter to the British ambassador, and bring me an answer, I wrote without any opposition and without any difficulty. Joachim undertook to carry my letter. This letter was only to inform Mr. Walpole, that a former one addressed to him had been carried to the intendente of the police, and to request that he would have the goodness to send for it, and favor me with an answer.

ANSWER,

Lisbon, Jipril 17, 1799.

Sir,

AS I have no intercourse with the intendente of the police, to authorise me to send for the letter you al- lude to, I must confine myself to acknowledging the re, ccipt of that which has been just delivered to me, Jlnd am, Sir,

Vmir most obedient humble servant,

RoBT. W4IPOIE.

The next day I sent my servant with a guide to Mr, Walpole's, who delivered him a letter as nearly as possible in the words of that which had been given to the intendente of the police, and received this answer:

Q,

122 MEM01KS OF

Lisbon, April 18, 1799. Sift

I have received your letter of this morning; that to which you refer of yesterday, has not yet been de- livered to me. I shall make application for the leave yon request, which I have no doubt will be granted to you. I am, Sir,

Four most obedient humble servant,

ROBT. WaLPOIE.

I waited some days without further result; and again sent my man, who returned with the following letter:

Lisbon, April 21, 1799. Sir,

I must assure you, that I immediately compli- ed with my promise, of making the application you re- quired of me by your letter of Friday evening, and I re- ceived an answer from the secretary of state, that orders were given by the intendente to report upon the subject of your imprisonment. I was in hopes that some speedier method might have been adopted in regard to what more immediately in point of humanity concerns you personally* I shall immediately renew my application, which I hope will be attended to. I am, Sir,

Four most obedient humble servant,

Robt. Walpole.

On this as on the former occasion, my servant had been sent to the house of Mr. Mathews (so I think his name was) the secretary of Mr. Walpole. He was kindly treated by this gentleman, as also by a lady at his house,

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 123

who expressed much concern for me, and sent me as a present a pot of conserves of Brazil.

But they told my man, that I was to be sent on board an English ship of war to an English prisonship at Gib- raltar; and when he murmured against such injustice in the English government, from whose ministers alone such orders could proceed, he was cautioned by the lady to hold his tongue, and advised, if he should be interrogated, to say nothing, but merely that he was my servant and ignorant of my affairs; otherwise she sahl it might be Worse for him than for me.

LETTER XVI.

v5 n Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intende nte.

AT length came the doctor: I do not recollect his name, but I understood he was the accoucheur of the in- tendant's lady. He so far differed from the bridewell doctor, that he treated me with respect and good manners. He excused his minister from all share in my persecution, assuring me that his lordship was very sorry for me, and very much concerned for what I was made to suffer. He complimented me on my patience, which he called animo graiulc: he said justly, that it was not of medicines I had need for the restoration of my health, but of liberty and tranquility, and that nothing was so dangerous for me as a prison. He promised to use all his interest with the in- *endente in my favor, and asked me, what country I should

124 MEMOIRS OF

like to go to? mentioning several times Fiance and Spain ; I answered, that having been so long deprived of all politi- cal intelligence, I could not tell what countries were in al- liance with England, what Were in hostility, or what were neutral. Or in the strange changes that succeeded each other, how long any country might remain in its present posture. But as to the two countries he had named, France and Spain, I could not consent to go to either of them, because I had made an agreement; to which it was my intention as to every other of my life, to be true; at least until it should be so flagrantly broken on the other part, as to leave me no choice. I then explained to him the labyrinth of vexations in which I was involved. To France or Spain I could not go, because those countries being at war with the king of England, it might be made a pretext for subjecting me to, the penalties of high treason, and serve at least as a justification for the crimes already committed against me. That my going to a neutral coun- try, or even to one in alliance with the king of England, might be turned to my disadvantage, as I was obliged, before I could get out of bridewell, to give security that I sliould go to Portugal, and remain there during the con- tinuance of the war. And if I went home or to any part of the British dominions, I was a felon by act of parlia- ment, and transportable to Botany-Bay: and though that parliament had shortly after this atrocious law annihilated itself, yet "The mischief that men do, lives after them."

Amongst all the neutral countries of which I thought, two only seemed free from objection, Genoa and Hamburg. The former I might have preferred on account of its cli- mate; the latter on account of its proximity to my own, and the greater facility of having communication with my

WIXlIAM SAMPSON. 123

family; with either I should have been contented. You know, however, to what unexampled misery the one was afterwards reduced by the war, and how in the other* the rights of nations and of hospitality have been violated in a degree beyond what had ever before happened amongst the hordes of the deserts. Thus it is, that mean and jea- lous tyranny hems in its victims on every side with snares and dangers.

I do not know whether what I said to this gentleman might have surprised his sensibility, or whether the symp- toms he betrayed were counterfeited; but they were those of strong emotion; and he promised to repeat all I had said to the intendente with equal force, and hoped to ob- tain for me the permission to remain in Portugal as I de- sired: Though he said it might be under some restrictions.

After some days he returned and told me, that the min- ister had been very much affected by my story, and that, particularly when he mentioned the chain of difficulties by which I was encompassed, that he had started as if wit! surprise and agitation, and desired him to repeat the dif- ferent points, that he might write them down. He advis- ed me also to write to the intendente a letter in English, but to be cautious to use such terms of deference as our language afforded, and to call him my lord; and upon the whole to use the stile which, being translated into Portu- guese, as it would be, should be found most agreeable to the usages of that country, and shew a due consideration of his quality.

I thanked him for his friendly intimation and complied to the best of my power. My letter was sent: and I think it was on the following day I was called into the same hall Where I first made my entree; and there, in the presence

1

l£6 MEM01BB OF

\i( the gaoler, I received from the hands of an officer 61 the police, my papers for which I gave him a receipt. They were all numbered in a certain order, as if they had Bi \ ed as references to some statement; and I think they had the air of having recently arrived from England! The only one of any curiosity that I could miss, was that famous letter With which Mr. Scaly took upon him to in- sult me, touching his political principles. Why this gen- tleman's letter was taken from among the rest, I do not know. It could not surely be, that he was in the manage- ment of this affair, and wished to suppress a production Which might one day turn to his shame.

LETTER XV U.

Tried again — Jlcquitted — Attempt at suicide — My danger— - Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears — Antonid

Italian nobleman — Lady Cruel perfidy English

threats — Gibraltar prison-ship — Another Gaol.

BEFORE I proceed further I must mention one or I wo occurrences which happened about this time. One night I was at supper with the Danish gentleman, When Joachim, the most odious of the turnkeys, came to me, and abruptly desired me to put on my coat and take off my bonnet, for that the judge was waiting for me to appear before him: I smiled at his official gravity, but did as he desired, and followed him to another part of the pri- son, which I believe might not have been entirely con-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. fcg?

■>■

structed for the use of kings and queens, and was taken up a narrow ladder through a trap-door and into a cock- where the court was sitting. This august trihmnii consisted of two mean-looking persons, the judge and his clerk, who sat facing each other at a tahle. I was placed on a diagonal line with a good deal of method, as if to have my picture drawn; and near me was placed a genteel looking person, whom I at first took for some high emana- tion from the court; hut found afterwards to he Mr. Reg- nier, the gaoler of another prison, who was brought there to serve as interpreter: from which, and more that I had occasion to observe, I concluded that a gaoler in this country is a person of more dignity than a judge. In- deed I had, before going into that despotic country, been prepared by what I had witnessed, to receive such an impression.

I was now led through nearly the same absurdities as in Oporto, except that this judge dwelt much upon the story and name of Oliver Bond, and seemed to doubt that a gov eminent could make such an agreement, to accept of one man's banishment to save the life of another. I told him that the fact was so, and that he might write ii down, and I would sign it. But I told him that it was not I who singly signed this act of self-devotion, to save the single life of Oliver Bond; for however willing I might have been, that man was too brave and too generous to have accepted such a sacrifice; but that I was one of many who, after braving every accuser, had subscribed to a mea- sure presented under a very different form from what per- fidy had since given it, in the hopes of putting a stop to that system, of which the atrocity will hereafter rank m history with whatever has been perpetrated of most foul,

(IS Ml, MOlliS OF

I owned that such a sacrifice must appear difficult of belief to those who had never seen nor felt the influence of public spirit, nor the love of their species or their country; yet that acts of generosity infinitely beyond that, were common even amongst the poorest and most oppressed in my country. lie then asked me, what had been the questions put to me in Oporto, when I was examined there? I told him they were much the same as those he had asked me, and that my answers were of course the same; as I had but one answer, and that was the truth, for all persons and. all occasions: that my persecution was a violation of jus- tice and a scandalous indecency, as useless as shameful to its authors; that it was founded upon disgraceful perfidy and therefore I requested he wTould put a speedy end to it- He said he would submit what had been written down to his superiors; and I, after reading it over, and finding it to contain nothing of any importance, subscribed my name to it, and J oachim led me back with a less stern aspect to my companion.

As to this gentleman, his impatience encreased daily. One evening in particular, he received a note from his am- bassador which nettled him. He had been that day below among the French prisoners, and had drank more wine than was good for him, and he suddenly after supper snatched away a knife which I had concealed from the eyes of the gaolers, and retired into his own room shutting the door after him. John, mistrusting his intentions, watched him through the key-hole, and gave the alarm just in time for us both with all our force to burst the door open, and prevent his putting an end to his existence. He had made a long but superficial cut in his neck; hut the blunts ness of the knife and the surprize of the door bursting

WUXIAM 94.MESQX. 129

open, had prevented the final execution of his project: and I was told afterwards, that it was happy for me I had been fortunate enough to save his life, as mine might have been made to answer for it. And indeed there is little doubt that my enemies would have rejoiced in so fortunate a means of at once getting rid of my complaints, and of branding forever a name which hitherto all their malice could not sully.

The shame and humiliation which followed this frus- trated attempt, rendered this young man still more mis- erable: and yet he was to be envied in comparison with some other inmates of this castle. There were dungeons where human beings had lived long enough to forget their own names, wearing out their days in darkness, nakedness and hunger. Too happy if folly or madness came at last to rescue them from the consciousness of what they were.

The whole science of criminal jurisprudence in Portu- gal is this; to throw the suspected person into a secret dungeon, which is aptly called in their judicial phrase. Inferno (Hell.) Here the wretch remains until he is re- ported fit to be examined. If he confesses, lie is put into irons, and either condemned as a slave, to work in chains or sent to Goa or the American plantations. If he does not confess he remains in his dungeon. I mentioned to one of the gaolers my sense of this hardship, as an obsti- nate guilty person might deny the truth, whilst an inno- cent one, less courageous, might very readily, to relieve himself from such a state of misery, make a false con- fession: his answer was laconic, "logo confesse" they soon confess.

All these things I could have viewed as an observer, for Z$y own mind was strongly made up to every exigence;

J>

I. 'A) MEMOIRS OF

but the thoughts of an innocent wife and children, who might be the victims of such barbarity, were too painful for repose. For besides the instance of the free mason's Wife, I had learned one which touched me much nearer. The last, occupier of my present apartment had been an Kalian nobleman of high rank and fortune, who had been sent out of England under the alien law, for political no- tions displeasing to the court. His lady, who was Eng- lish, had been ordered to Lisbon for her health. "Whilst he was imprisoned in the castle of St. George, she was dungeoned in secret in a separate prison, where she re- mained some time, spitting blood. During this her most private letters were seized upon and read, and she was at length released only to be sent on board an English man of war to Gibraltar, and from thence to the coast of Bar- bary. I have known that lady since, and she certainly never could have deserved that treatment or been capable of giving offence to any government.

What then might be the treatment reserved for my wife, should she arrive? Such was the consideration which occupied my mind, leaving me otherwise insensible to all the little tricks and vexations I was exposed to. And what heightened these feelings was the treachery of the turnkey, Antonio, who boasted of the sums he had received from this unfortunate gentleman in the moments of his impatience, by different impostures and duperies; amongst others, that of promising to manage an interview hetween him and his lady by a subterraneous passage; through which he pretended a coach could pass, and of which, he said, he had the key; and that no doubt might remain of this infamy, he produced and offered to sell to me the very letters which he had been so largely bribed to deliver.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 131

But to quit these details, which would swell my letter beyond moderate bounds, and return to my story*. I have already mentioned tliat my papers were delivered to me by an officer. This same officer gave me notice to prepare for quitting this prison immediately. He told me that on that evening I was to he removed to another place, pre- vious to my being embarked: but he would not tell me where I was to be removed, nor to what country embark- ed: but said that I was to have an interview in the evening with the British and Portuguese ministers, and every thing would be settled. Upon this he went away, and f. locked up my papers in my travelling secretary. Scarcely had I done this before I was desired to give up all my effects, in order that they might be sent before me to the place where I was going: so that had I been so disposed, I could make no use of any of the recommendations they contained.

The first thing that occurred to me was to make John avail himself of his permission to go to the market; and instead of doing so, to go to the English ambassador's, and enquire into the truth. He did so, and received for answer, that Mr. "SYalpole was so dangerously ill, that his lady dared not put the dispatches before him to be signed, and that the packet was detained for that reason.

Upon this I wrote to the intendente; John carried the letter. He saw this minister, who told him that lie would have the letter interpreted by his linguist, and that an an- swer should be sent to his master in the evening.

I next requested the doctor to come to mc5 who complied but only answered me dryly, that these things were done very suddenly in Portugal. I was however as dry with Mm, and the only one to whom I shewed any friendship on

133 MEMOIRS OF

parting, was the kiissian robber: for with all his vices on liis head, he had more of the features of humanity. Per- haps I may have judged too hardly of the doctor, if it should appear so in future, I shall be ready to make him all atonement in my power. One thing in his favor, I must confess, was the jealousy the others seemed to enter- tain of him.

h\ the evening came two oilicers of police to take me and mv servant away. We were called down to be de- livered to them; and each of them putting his hand into his pocket, produced a string of hard whip-cord, for the pur- pose of tying our hands. One of them took me aside, and told me, with many compliments, that though he had strict orders from the minister to tie my hands, yet seeing the kind of person I appeared to be, he would disobey, in hopes, however, that I would acknowledge his complai- sance. I made no other answer than by bringing him for- ward, and calling upon him, at his peril, to tie my hands, if such were his orders, as it was my intention, at a proper time, to throw the responsibility of all these insults where it was due. This produced debate, and the project of ty- ing me was over-ruled.

I should now, before I take leave of the castle of St. George, mention the humble trophy I raised in honor of the virtue I most prize, and in revenge for the many perfi- dies I had experienced. My chief amusement had been scratching with charcoal some rude designs upon the walls of my recess, which John had embellished with festoons of oranges: With a morsel of this charcoal, I hastily traced the following passage, which, if I remember well, is to be found in the tragedy of Douglas:

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 135

"Sincerity,

Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave

Thy onward path, although the earth should gape,

And from the gulph of hell damnation cry

To take dissimulation's winding way."

Such was the rebuke I addressed to my enemies, and the counsel I bequeathed to my successors. And now, my friend, before we enter into other dungeons, let us take a further pause.

LETTER XVIII.

Nocturnal Migration — Other Prison— More nauseous Dun- geon— Hunting by Candle-Light

I was no sooner seated in the carriage with my jiew conductor, than he began to overwhelm me with ex- cuses and compliments, and became officious in his efforts to amuse me; and pointed out whatever was curious as we passed, the night being tolerably clear. I recollect his mentioning a column in memory of the execution of the grandees who conspired against their king; a royal palace; the street inhabited by the gold-smiths, and various other objects. He entreated me often to forgive him, and promised in return to see me lodged in the best apartment of the prison where we were going; intimating, that as it was only a part of the gaoler's house, it might not be diffi- cult to escape. On our road we called at another prison, where we

134 MEMOIRS OS

took up two other persons., a gentleman and his servant, so that our cavalcade consisted of four carriages. My «. .,i,(iiictor told me, that this was a gentleman of my coun- try; that lie would give orders to have us put together. And I was in hopes to have at length obtained the compa- ny of some person in whose misfortunes I might sympa- tlnzc; perhaps some victim like myself, banished to make ■'ooiii for the auspicious union of his country with Great- Britain. But when we arrived at the gaol of Belcm, the order of procession Mas inverted, and the other prisoners went in first, so that for this time I saw no more of them; though from henceforth their sufferings and mine were in seme sort to be identified.

I was detained some time in a small room of the gaol- er, until a negress was brought through, who had reason to Welcome me, as she was released from her secret dun* geon in order to make room for me. I was then locked up with my servant in a little hole, foul and filthy beyond description. The space ofit was scarcely more than the area of a coach. There was in it a commodity, of which the smell was infectious. The walls were bedaubed with ordure; and for light and air, there was only a square orifice, through which a cat could not creep, near two fath- oms in length, sloping upwards towards the sky. And there v, as, for more security at the outer end, a bar of iron. This threw upon the opposite wall a spectrum of the size of a man's hand, where any object became visible, the rest was utter darkness. There was in it no article of furniture; but my mattrass was allowed for me, and John lay down upon the floor.

It would be impossible to express what I suffered during this night, from the difficulty of breathing in this suffocat

WlIXIAM SAMPSON. 1 :

ing hole, and from the vermin with which it abounded. Luckily we had a flint and steel, and from time to tisap when we could suffer no longer, we suddenly struck a lieht, and endeavored to take the bugs and fleas that in- fested us by surprize, and so destroy thorn.

In the morning the gaoler came to visit me, and lament- ed that the strict orders delivered to him from the minister by the officer who conducted me, obliged him to lodge me so incommodiously. I told him that there must be gross treachery somewhere, as this officer had promised to lodge me in the best apartment in his house; and that I should be indulged in the company of another gentleman of my own country. He persisted that his orders were to put me in the very dungeon where the negress had been: and there was no appeal!

LETTER XIX.

JVbt quite so bad — Music — Amours of various Colours — L. lays of Stale — The Saints — Something like Tom Pipes,

I found, however, through the gaoler, the means oi' having the door left open in the day time, and soon after for a sum of money was removed into an adjoining room, nearly of the same size but more clean, and where there w a bedstead. Opposite the door in the corridor there was a barred window, but I was put upon honor not to ap- pear at it.

I had now, however, for a companion, several hours

136 MEMOIRS 0£

every day, a son of the gaoler, an organist to one of iho churches: lie took pleasure in English airs and country dances; and I wrote him down from memory some that he liked best. I had also a German flute, but could play but little on account of my breast, which was still painful.

There was also a young officer, whose father had put him here until he could be sent to Goa, because he would not marry to please him. The negress had been confined for a crime of a like tender nature, but differing in cir- cumstances; for her lover was a young man of family, and it was feared so enslaved to her charms, that he would marry her. For this his family had used its power to de- prive the poor wench of her liberty and the world of so bright an ornament.

The gaoler, at length, for obvious reasons, became more propitious: and upon my paying his coach-hire, put on his diced coat, his black velvet breeches, and his sword; and either did, or said he did, make one or more visits to the Intendente on my behalf. But here, as before, the delays of state intervened. It was either a church-holiday, or a birth day, or a wedding anniversary, or a Sunday, or a rejoicing day, or a hunting-day, or Good-Friday, or East- er-Day. All the saints were inauspicious to me — St. Poly- carpe, St. Hildegonde, St. Beuve, and all. In short, among so many idle days, no moment could be spared from pleasure or devotion for the relief of the unfortunate or oppressed.

I bore all with patience; until at length I was told, that I must write, not as before, in English, but in Portu- guese, to the intendente of the police himself. This was rather hard for me, who had but two or three months to Jrarn the language, and that without the slightest instruc-

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 1ST

tions. I begged of my patron to assist me, as I was igno- rant in what terms to address so great a personage as his superior.

He complied, and the first words he dictated were seuo qfflitto creado, your afflicted servant. I objected to this, as though it might be proper for his minister it was not what was due to myself. He did not seem well to comprehend my objection; so I was forced to sacrifice my pride, and give him carte blanche, promising to copy what- ever he should write. But I could not shut my eyes against the striking resemblance which my situation bore to that of Tom Pipes, when he applied to the village school-master for a letter to Emily, after wearing out the original in his shoe. This epistle, which was no uncuri- ous production, being finished, my patron charged him- self with the delivery of it: and I was not certainly the worse for his protection, for my restraints were much re- laxed. I was allowed to go to the window where I could converse freely with the family of the governor in the court below.

LETTER XX.

Better — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect — Ladies Eyes — Bow and Arrows — Bad shot — Hopes still.

I had nothing for it now but patience, and I en- deavored to profit by every means of amusement that offer- ed. There were two girls who diverted themselves riding

s

138 MEMOIRS OF

upon an ass through the yard, and each had a stick to beat it with. 1 begged for the sticks, which were given me through my bars. One of them was a vine, and be-. came afterwards an instrument of great interest. To one of these sticks I fastened a shaving-mirror, and coidd, by holding it up before tlie window, command a view of the gaoler's room above me, and converse with the ladies of the mansion who could sec me in like manner. And again, by adding the length of the other stick, I could see over the wall, and have by that means, looking up through two bars, a beautiful prospect of the harbor towards the sea, including the castle of Belem. At all times I have taken delight in such views, but I cannot say how much my mind was now enlivened by this gay and busy scene. I watch- ed all the manoeuvres, and observed all the colors of so many ships of different nations, going to sea, or returning from their voyages; but envied most those whom I saw amusing themselves in skiffs of pleasure. I had besides the satisfaction of discovering the position I was in near the water's edge.

One day, whilst busied in this exercise, I observed that i had turned the reflection of the sun upon the eyes of a young lady in an opposite window. There was between her and me the distance not only of the prison-yard, but of a broad street besides; so that the only way I had of apologizing, was by desisting: I dismounted the ma- chine, made her a respectful bow, and laid it aside. And taking up the flute, endeavored the best I could to make amends; and was in my turn repaid by the condescention with which she staid to listen.

Though this young person was a very deserving object «>f admiration, I hadjfor paying my court to her a motive

WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 13g

Snore justifiable than that of gallantry, and warranted by | the strictest fidelity. The persons in whose hands I was, were in the middle of their greatest kindnesses impenetra- bly secret; their office was to keep me deprived of liberty, : and also of every means of attaining it. The least and most caressing of the children had been instructed in the I school of mystery. I naturally longed for some acquaint- ance who was not under circumstances of necessary en- mity to my wishes: and I could see no great objection that the first person that offered should be young and handsome, and of tbat sex to which alone I could ever consent to humble myself. I therefore encouraged the hope, that by gaining the favor of the young lady, I might in some way profit by her friendship, though I could not say in what manner. In this view I manufactured the vine into a bow. and the old box into arrows, and began by shooting at marks in the yard, letting the children win a few vintiin pieces to keep them in my interest, and in this manner concealed my project. On one of the arrows, instead of feathers, I fixed a paper, on which was written a billet in the Portuguese language, couched nearly in these terms: "If youth and beauty be not deceitful, and that you can be sensible to the undeserved misfortunes of a strancer, eh e me some tokens of your permission, which I shall faith- fully respect, and I shall communicate much more." This done, I shot the arrow at her window. It unluckily hit against the frame, and bounded back into the street, and shortly afterwards I saw her father enter with it in his band, and assemble in a groupe, this young lady, another malicious laughing little girl, and an elderly person that I took to be a governante. I was in great anxiety lest I bad been the cause of pain where it was so much ray in*

140 MEMOIRS OF

tcrcstas well as my wish to ])lease. But when I saw the dear young lady pat the cheeks of her father, and that he suffered such tender play, my fears vanished, and I even went the length to hope that he also had seen the thing in the true light and become my friend. I therefore renewed my diligence, and finding by her gestures that she no longer approved of my first mode of communication, I broke some of my arrows in her view in token of obedi- ence; and invented in their place a better stratagem, if such a name can be given to so loyal a manner of making known one's griefs. I hollowed out an orange rhind, and with a thread unravelled from a stocking, contrived to throw it over the wall next the sea when the tide was not full. In the same manner if I had been happy enough to have been favored with an answer, I could have drawn it up. Nor was I without hope; for whether it was the illusion of an imagination in search of some agreeable deception, or a substantial, material fact, I thought I felt a little twitch at the end of the cord: I thought I felt it in my fingers: I am sure I felt it in my heart. If you, a philosopher, skilled in the wonderful works of nature, and deeply read in her mysterious books, can tell me what principle it was that could communicate bv so frail and flimsv a conductor as an old stocking-thread through the stone walls and iron bars of a flinty gaol, a fire more rapid than the electric spark; a movement more subtle than the galvanic jluid, you will relieve me from some curious doubts. What, you will say, was the effect? from that we may discover the cause. It was a kind of sudden vibration of gratitude, hope, joy, and what not. Perhaps, if duty and inclination had not long since taught me to love but one, then far a- way~ but I fear it is getting into my pen, and the shortest

WILLIAM SAMPS03C. 14 1

follies are the best. However, having digressed so far in hopes of varying the tedious story of ray griefs, I shall complete the picture of my whimsical situation. In the first place, the good papa with a laudable vigilance had placed himself in the garret, and a sharp look out he kept. Again there was another little round laughing young lady, married or single, I knew not which, dressed in a military dress, who seemed to take pleasure in provoking and in- sulting me with a pair of large black eyes. I was obliged in my own defence to shoot at her several times, to drive her from her post, which brought upon me the enmity of her duenna who, after putting the young wicked one from the window, came to it herself. I made grimaces at her; she made faces at me. I threatened to shoot her; she threat- ened to have me punished. When I took up my flute to play to the true object of my attention, this little soldier lady would take it to herself, and dance to my music. I had, besides, a trick for the father; for I could see where lie hung up his hat, and knew by that when he was gone out. You Avill say this was carrying the thing too far. No! for our commerce was most innocent. Tiic ladies were se- cure in the iron bars that restrained me, and still more in the purity of my thoughts, and they knew that the fullest effect their charms could have was but leading captivity captive. In short I had enough upon my hands, but I was not discouraged, until all such fond hopes were at once cut off, as you shall see in the sequel.

I MTs.uoiiis or

LETTEB XM.

The Neighbors — Infernal Dungeons.

BEFORE I pursue the course of my adventures, I think it may not be uninteresting to my friend, to know* among what persons I was now living. I was one day surprised in the corridor, by the voice of a man asking me abruptly in the French language, if the negress was gone out? "Monsieur, la negresse est tilt sortie?" I looked round in vain for the person or the place from whence this voice issued; but it was not until a following day, that I perceived fingers through a small hole in a step that led down from the gaoler's quarters to this wing which I in- habited. The light gave obliquely on the spot, and by re- flection, so that it was scarcely visible; within was entire darkness: and when I approached my mouth to this orifice to speak, the smell was poisonous.

I asked the unhappy tenant of this cell, for what he had been immured there? and he answered, pour un marriage ile la Repwblique; from which I at first concluded he had lost his senses: but I found afterwards that he had actually married a French woman under the revolutionary forms when in France: that she had separated from him: that iipon his return he had consulted the emigrant priests, who affirmed the marriage to be null: that another advan- tageous match offering, he had proposed, but not con- cluded the second marriage; for which crime, as he told me, he had been long in this dungeon. His anxiety about

WILLIAM SAMPSQX. J4j

•Uie negress was, that if she had got out by means of an ex~ animation, he would have concluded himself to have bee« passed over, and to have no more hope. He begged of m« to purchase him some bread, as for myself, offering me at tho same time the price of it through the hole, from which I judged that hunger was a part of his punishment. I do not take upon myself to say what might have been the dc gree of this unfortunate being's crime, but his punishment was certainly severe. I saw him when at night he had got a candle to pick the vermin off his body. His beard was long, and his aspect miserable. His dungeon way deep and narrow; and in a corner was a little door, through which he must have crept in, and which served now to thrust in his food. It was from the depth of ii;;>; dungeon, and the effort he had to make in clinging by his fingers in order to raise his mouth to the orifice in the stair, that the utterance of that abrupt sentence, "La ne- gresse est elle sortie," had such an extraordinary effect.

But this was not the only miserable being of my spe- cies, of whose sufferings I was forced to partake. There was under the corridor another inferno, into which the de- scent was by a trap-door, over which I had often walked without perceiving it. This dungeon was damp and dark, and so foul, that when the trap-door was opened twice in the day to give provisions to the wretch that inhabited it, the whole surrounding space was infected with a pesti- lential smell for a length of time, and yet the entire opera- tion of opening and shutting, did not last more than half a minute; nothing further taking place on the occasion than the handing down one little earthen dish and receiv- ing another, which was given up by the prisoner. But lest any thing should interrupt the fearful seclusion of tfeia

144 .MEMOIRS OF

mortal from the rest of bis species, or that any means should be conveyed to lrim of quitting an existence so ter- rible, his meal was regularly and diligently searched each day before his trap-door was opened; and even his bread

>rn asunder for fear of some concealment. It would be too tedious to detail the histories of my other fellow-prison- ers. Those most immediately my neighbors, whose door gave into the corridor, were a Corsican smuggler, and a soldier imprisoned for stabbing with a knife.

The predecessor of the negress had been an American captain, called William Atkinson, from Philadelpliia. His name was written with a pencil on the wall. He had been a length of time in secret, on account of a barrel of gun- powder which he had been charged with purchasing undu- ly, as belonging to the stores. At length, when he had no more money, the gaoler enquired of the minister who sent him there? what was to be done with him? and the minis- ter, not recollecting Ins name, so totally had he been for- gotten, he was let out.

The gentleman who came oil the same night with me., and with whom I had conversed only by stealth, through the Saw in his door, was a Mr. Rivet, of Nantes, formerly consul-general of the Portuguese in France. It was not until a day or two before our departure, that we were per- mitted to see each other. But I found afterwards great resources in the company of this new fellow-sufferer, who was, for what reason I know not, to be sent on board the same vessel which was to transport me against my will to France.

Willi AM SAMPSON, H5

LETTER XXII.

ICid-napped — Transported — Our Mieus — State affairs-

Protest

AT length, after a series of abominations, which had now lasted six weeks, I was called upon suddenly one morning, by an ecrivan, a man of authority, to prepare for an immediate departure, and was scarcely allowed time to thrust my clothes into my trunks. In vain I de- manded where I was going. I was desired to pay ten moidores for my passage: I forget whether any thing more, or how much, for my servant: but I recollect that the gov- ernment paper money which remained in my hands, and which I had been obliged to take at par, was discounted at fifteen per cent. Small considerations these, it is true, in any other circumstances, but serious seeing the position X was in. As certainly, had I yielded to much extortion in the beginning and my little stock been sooner exhausted, ] should have been destitute beyond measure, and perhaps have perished in that double-doored vault where I was first plunged, and from which it required money to redeem me. I now remonstrated that I had very little remaining; and that if I went to a strange country as a prisoner, where I might have neither credit nor connexions, I must necessarily be exposed to great distress: and I begged at least to be informed where I was going, and to be allowed to make some arrangements. The officer replied in a per- emptory and insulting strain, that if I had no money,

T

140 MEMOIRS OF

none would be taken from me, but that my trunks and my person should be searched. This necessarily produced some warmth on my part. And transported and trem- bling with rage, and perhaps fear (for he often repeated that he was not afraid of me) he called upon his followers who, I believe, were twenty in number, to tie me: bow- ever, this as on tbc former occasion was not put in execu- tion, and the whole scene ended in courtesy and com- plaisance.

The Danish vice-consul attended below, with a captain of his nation, to see the passage money paid. But nei- ther of them would inform me where we were to go. Mr. Rivet and his servant were in like manner treated, and we were all four taken out by a gate which led to the place of embarkation, It was through this gate that I had often observed files of convicts to be taken, who had been pre- viously secured, each by an iron ring about his neck, and by this ring to an iron bar which held them altogether in a row. I was glad that we had no such shackles, as we should have thereby lost the opportunity of saluting our young ladies as we passed. They were looking on, as I hope, with eyes of tender compassion from their window, where they were placed together with their father and the elderly lady, their mother or govcrnante, all of whom re- turned our salute politely. And I thought that the fair person, to whose compassion I laid claim, seemed touched with the hardships of my case. I had found means, be-i fore I left the prison, to learn a little of her history. She was by birth a Spaniard. Her father a gentleman of the court, being a volante or running footman to the prince of Brazil. She herself had passed some heavy hours in the melancholy spot from which I addressed my prayers to

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 147

Wi\ Her lover being ordered to the East, she determin- ed to share his fortunes, and to that end put on the garb of a sailor, in which disguise she fell into the hands of the police, and refusing to discover herself, was shut up in the identical cell which was afterwards allotted me, and had learned a lesson of pity in an excellent school.

"We were now put on board a royal gilded barge with the speed of twenty oars. We had the consolation of another salute from our fair spectators as we passed their windows, which overlooked the water: but from that day to this, having heard or seen nothing further from them, 1 endeavor to flatter myself with the hope that they arc both happily married and settled in the world. Whilst I may have yet many years and many leagues to wander; and other countries, in all human probability, yet to visit.

I waited with patience to see what was to be done with me, and Was soon put on board a certain little Banish dog- ger called the Dtjc-Hoffning, which I understood to mean the Hope, a fair sounding name, but alas, a deceitful one, as you shall presently acknowledge. The pilot was en board, the sails were full, the anchor weighed. In the barge with us had been sent, by whose care or whose bounty I could not learn* a provision of wine, fowls, onions and other articles, amply sufficient for a short voyage, but very inadequate to that long and cruel ara - tion which we were destined to undergo.

The officer, of whom I have before spoken, and who cbnducted us on board, before his quitting us, and imme- diately before our sailing, put into the hands of Mr. Rivet and me separate passports for the port of Hamburg, where we were told that we were now to go; and to the vaptain. he1 delivered, as had been stipulated, several ccrti-

148 MEMOtUS oi

ficates; one from the English consul, one from the Danish consul, and for more authority endorsed by the ambassas- dor of Denmark. There was another from Mr. Lafargue, the agent for French prisoners in Portugal; all evidently for the same purpose of securing the captain against sei- zure by armed vessels of all nations. The only one of these certificates, which mentioned me solely, was that of Mr. Lafargue, whilst that of Mr. Crispin mentioned only Mr. Rivet, each covering with his protection the prisoner of the opposite nation. For this piece respecting me, which I insisted upon having from the captain on landing, (See Appendix JVo. XII. J The Danish consul and am- bassador certified for five persons put on board for reasons of state, and who had no charge on board of ship: perhaps

the unfortunate Mr. A might have been intended for

the fifth.

I had forgot to mention, that the ecrivan had insisted on my signing a paper jointly with Mr. Rivet, that I should not return to Portugal, on pain of perpetual imprisonment. Mr. Rivet made no objection to sign this paper, which was drawn up so as to be jointly signed by him and me. He has, nevertheless, I understand, since exercised the office of Portuguese consul at Nantes, and is now as a commercial agent from France in Lisbon. But my case was very dif- ferent. I had no government to protect me: on the contra- ry, the minister, whose duty it was to do so, seemed to spare no means, however shameful, to destroy me. I had no law to appeal to. For in my person all laws had al- ready been outraged. My enemies were in power, and certainly had not enough of magnanimity to forgive the ex- posure of their crimes; and after the perfidies I had expe- rienced, I had little reason to confide in any body. I

WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 149

might be put back into Portugal, as I was so often into Dublin, and this paper be used as a pretext better than any yet found, for the eternal privation of my liberty* Besides I had perceived an affectation of styling that gen- tleman and me os duos amigos, (the two friends) at a time when we had never seen each other; which displeased me. I refused therefore to subscribe to sucli conditions: but at the request of the officer, and for his justification, gave my reasons in writing at the foot of his paper. 1st. That I had been obliged, in consequence of an agreement with the government of my country, to sign an obligation to come to Portugal and remain there during the war, and that therefore I could not now subscribe to terms directly con- trary. 2dly. That this paper was made jointly with a gentleman of a different nation, whom I had not advan- tage of knowing, and whose case from the circumstances could have nothing in common with mine. 3dly. That not seeing what profit I could reap from it, or with what motive it was proposed to me, I should decline it for that reason alone, as I could not presume it was intended to befriend me. Now let us take leave of this inhospitable and degraded land; and that you may have courage to accompany me through a long and painful suffering on the seas,, I shall leave you for awhile to your repose.

1:<J MEMOIRS ofc

LETTER XXIII.

Voyage — Discovery — French Privateer — English Frigate- Dangers — Difficulties — Distresses — Landing in Spain.

IT wa£ now the beginning of May, 1799, when I put to sea in the Die-IIoffning, having still in my possession the passports of those ministers who professed to shed blood for the delivery of Europe and the restoration <f religion and law. No case need be stronger than mine to shew how much their actions agreed with their profes- sions, and how much had their views succeeded there would have remained of religion, liberty and laAv. Be- :brc I crossed the bar I entered into conversation with the pilot, who seemed not to understand some questions I put to him touching the destination of the ship. This creating some suspicion, I was proceeding to press him for an ex- planation, when the captain interposed, and told me in a tone of confidence, to say nothing more; and that when we were once at sea and the pilot gone, he would tell me something that would be agreeable to me. But the mo- tion of the vessel on crossing the bar produced an effect which curiosity could not counteract. I went to my bed over-powered with sickness, and remained in a state of stupor for three days, insensible to all occurrences; at the end of which time Mr. Rivet informed me, that he had discovered from the avowal of the captain and a view of the ship's papers, that we were bound and regularly cleared out for Bordeaux.

WUXI.Ui SAMPSON. 15}

Now although a voyage to France had for mc nothing terrible, in comparison with what I had suffered; yet inas- much as it made a difficulty the more between me and my family, and that the consequence in many ways could iigt be calculated, I was much shocked at the discovery. 3Vfr. Rivet did all he could to encourage and divert me from rj a unpleasant view my situation afforded, and in this r.s in ©very other stage of my persecution, I endeavored to strengthen myself with fortitude and patience and to make the best of my position.

But whatever might be my disposition to bear cheerfully the ills and wrongs I had to sustain, every thing* even the elements, seemed to conspire to second the malice of my enemies and to make my situation intolerable. For six tedious weeks was I tossed about in this little vessel, in the performance of a voyage which might well have been per- formed in as many days. We sometimes approached the coast; and sometimes stood across the ocean, as they term- ed it, looking for a "wind. The course of the vessel, when traced upon a map, was a matter of real curiosity: and 'I had the, satisfaction of finding, at the end of three weeks of sickness and pain, that we were further off* by much from our destined port than when we started. "We often requested the captain to put us somewhere on shore on the Portuguese or Spanish coast; and he as often positively refused. He seemed indeed to suffer as much as we, and on some occasions to have nearly lost his senses with vex- ation. He was in his own nature good; but he had been terror-struck and agitated in Lisbon, where he had been one day taken off* the Change before the minister, ami threatened with a gaol if he murmured against taking certain prisoners who should be sent on board of him.

153 MEMOIRS OF

No explanation was given to him who those prisoners voir: and thus this poor honest seaman found himself suddenly involved in some conspiracy of state, and charged with papers and certificates of which he under- stood not a word, and with prisoners for his passengers of whom he must have formed strange notions. His imag- ination had hecn prc-disposed to gloomy presages by various contrarieties. He had had a very tedious passage from Malaga to Lisbon. At Lisbon he was detained after he was clear to sail, and all his port charges paid for pris- oners of state. During this time his cable, which was ashore, was cut and stolen away with the anchor. Added to all, the tediousness of his passage that was to deprive him of the summer fishery in the North, and consequently of his greatest benefice, I may say of his bread, you may suppose how abundantly this poor industrious man, whose dogger was the world to him, must have been tormented. The mystery and incomprehensibility of what he was himself engaged in, grew every day into more dark sus- picion; and his temper became at length very peevish. He did not speak French, and English very imperfectly. And as after the two or three first weeks I had found all expostulation with him in vain, I left him to Mr. Rivet.

This gentleman, who possessed a good deal of informa- tion, had learned English, but rather from books than practice. And though he understood it upon principle, he spoke it with difficulty: so that nothing could be more ex- traordinary to an English ear than the conferences he and the captain used to hold in the cabin by way of explana- tion, which I overheard as I sat upon the deck. Some- times the captain used to express great concern for us, and to sympathise in our fate. At other times he insinuated

WIULIA.M SAMPSON. 153

that we were the cause of his misfortunes and even of the foul wind. And lie added that once before he had had a similar passage., and that the wind never became favorable until a man died; a doctrine that became a little irksome, particularly when the provisions grew scarce, and the sailors seemed to have adopted it. He often looked me pitifully in the face, and exclaimed that I might guillotine him if I chose; but that he was not like some other cap- tains who had taken away prisoners from Portugal, of whom nothing had been heard since. He often repeated this, I do not say with what view, but he seemed to take some credit to himself for the safety of our lives, as if we owed it to his forbearance or humanity.

I as often assured him that I had neither the power nop the disposition to guillotine him. That on the contrary I would do him any sen ice in my power, provided he would put an end to all our misery, by setting us on shore, I al- lowed that the compulsion used to him in Portugal, and the fear he was in of a despotic authority, was excuse enough to me for his taking us on board: but that his continuing to carry us such a length of time against our will backwards and forwards over the seas, whilst my health was such as he saw it, was little short of an act of piracy, which noth- ing could excuse. That he himself knew how nearly the provisions were exhausted, and t]iat even the water would soon be finished. But he never would hear of this propo- sal with patience, and persisted that we should all go to- gether to Bordeaux, where every thing would end happily; so that sometimes I flattered myself, that he had some s.e- cret of that nature, and that he intended us some agreeable surprise: for it was hard to believe that so many ostensible persons should join in a diplomatic project winch had no

V

1^4 MEMOIRS or

other end in view, or could have no other issue or resnft, than the mean and stupid persecution of an individual, such as me.

Meantime the provisions were drawing to a close. Wc had no longer any thing to live upon hut hard rye hiscuits and had water, with hrandy and raw sugar, very little *alt lish and salt meat; and that little but for a few days more. This diet, together with the vexation I experienc- ed, was nearly fatal to me, as the pain in my chest became intolerably severe. I renewed my entreaties to the cap- tain, to stand in for the land; where wc might hope to make some part of the Spanish coast. The more I entreat- ed, the more perverse he grew. He had before refused to put us on shore in Portugal, lest we should all be imprison- ed for life. He now refused to approach the Spanish coast. For he said, that if the wind should be on shore, he would be blown upon the rocks: if it was off the shore, he could not make the land: if there was little or no wind, the cur- rent would run away with him. But he went sometimes so far as to offer mo the command of the ship, provided I would secure him the payment of it. I told him I was not rich enough to buy his dogger, but that if he would stand in near the shore, and let me have one of his boats, I would pay him for it the price he should ask, and my servant and I should go on shore; by wMch means the provisions would last so much longer for the rest. This also he refused; and when every other reason was exhausted, he persisted that he could not go into Spain without perform- ing quarantine. It was in vain we assured him, that the Spaniards exacted no such thing on the coasts of the ocean. It had happened to him once in a Spanish port

WILLIAM SAMrsOST. 15o

iu the Mediterranean, and he conceived or pretended to think, that we were misleading him..

Such evils were not of a nature to decrease with time, and our captain became every day more disturbed. Before, he had been sober and abstemious; but latterly resorted fre- quently for consolation to the brandy bottle. He often started in his bed, and talked through his sleep; and at the same time became most fervently devout. Twice a day he took his little ship's company down into the forecastle or steerage, to siug hymns for a fair wind. But it was all to no purpose. Once only we had a propitious mo- ment. The wind blew fair; the yards Mere squared, and the steering sails were set. The steersman, who had hith- erto been of an unalterable gravity, went down for his mandoline, and the captain danced to his music. I shall give no other praise to these performers than to say, that none ever gave me greater pleasure. Every body was happy, bustling and gay. The breeze seemed sent from heaven for our relief, and there appeared a kind of exult- ing consciousness, that the hymns had not been sung in vain. There was no longer any need that a man should die to appease an angry Providences I too put in my claim to merit; lor though I had not joined in the hymns, I had generally steered the vessel, that all the hands might. The remaining fowl was now ordered to be killed, and the rigor of our allowance was relaxed, and a smile of hope and cheerfulness sat upon every countenance. But how great is the uncertainty of sublunary events. In less than an hour all grew black again. The wind blew again as formerly. By little and little the sails were un- willingly trimmed. The steering sails were again lower- ed in sullen silence. The mandoline disappeared, and I

156 MEM6IKS ■ »

need not say, the dancing ceased also. There was no more smile, no more joke nor play. In short, for the length of that day, no man ventured to look another into the face, much less to speak to him.

It was wMle things were growing towards the worst, that we were boarded by a French privateer brig, called the Yenus, from Nantes. The captain, on board of whom we were carried, finding us in role, and having some knowledge of Mr. Rivet, who was from the same town; apologized very civilly for the trouble and delay he had given us, and made us a present of some articles of pro- vision. And after he had left us, and was almost out of Bight, he returned to offer us a passage on shore, as in a few days his cruise would be out, and he would then stand in for a Spanish port.

This was a tempting offer; but I, for obvious reasons, refused it; and rightly, for a few days after we were boarded by the Flora frigate who had captured this iden- tical privateer. And had I oeeh found on board of her, it might have supplied a pretext, which neither the torture of my servant nor the seizure of my papers had yet afforded. And my enemies would not then have been forced to resort to that scandalous falsehood, that I had corrupted the people in a fishing town in Wales.

At length, not having wherewithal to support life anoth- *ef day, we with difficulty entered the port of St. Sebastian,

"WILLIAM SAMPSOK-* 1 5f

LETTER XXIY.

-Again threatened with Jlrrestation — Remonstrance — Munici- pality of Bayonnc arrete motive — Arrival in France.

HERE I applied to Bon Louis Blondel de Drouhof> the commandant, or captain-general, for a passport to proceed by land to my destination; where I certainly did Hope to learn at least the cause of such extraordinary i treatment, And I was now very willing that the dogger should make the rest of her passage without me. Don Louis first threatened to arrest me as a subject of the king of Great-Britain, then at war with his king. Nor could I avail myself in this instance of the passports of tire duke of Portland and the marquis Cornwallis. If they had not served me in Portugal, still less could they do so here. Yet I did produce them; for I was determined at all events to deal with candor, and to oppose nothing to such com- plicated vexation but simplicity and truth. I offered be- sides the testimony of Mr. Rivet, that of the captain, and onr servants, that we were sent away by force. I produced also the passport of the minister of Portugal, then in strict alliance with Spain; and also the certificates of the English i consul, the Danish ambassador and consul, the French minister in Portugal, and other proofs, all shewing beyond doubt, that I was sent for reasons of state from Lisbon to Bordeaux. And since this was apparently done by the concurrence of so many ministers, it was to be presumed it was for some good or great purpose, though I protested

MEMOIRS OF

i. knew not what those reasons could be: but merely hoped that the principles of civilization were not yet so lost in Europe, that an individual could be seized upon as if by pirates, and transported by them from place to place, by sea and by land, from dungeon to dungeon, without some : ppunt finally to be rendered of such proceedings. At .Bordeaux alone I stated I could expect to have that satis- faction, and there I looked for it confidently; as I was sure the diplomatic agents of so many kings would not deliberately join to prostrate those law's* and openly vio- late without motive those received notions of natural righ rind justice, by which their right to govern, and theii titles to their thrones, were alone secured. I moreovei stated what I had already suffered on board of this shipj what the state of my health was: and I prevailed finally to obtain a passport to follow7 my destination as far as the frontiers of France, where I might explain myself, as I best could, with the authorities of that country. With this passport I arrived at Bayonne, where I ap- :rcd before the municipality, and was desired to return, the quicker the better, to the place I came from; for that otherwise I should be put in prison. To this I replied with warmth, that I had heard it proclaimed that France was to be the terrc hospitaliere, where the persecuted were to find a refuge. But if I, who had no other crime thai the love of my country, of human liberty and justice, am Who had not come into this land from any motive of curi- osity or caprice, but by misfortune and necessity, whicl gives a title to humanity in every country: if I was now to be driven back into other Ihinds, where I might expect at least a renewal of the wrongs I bad already suffered, it might be said that hospitality ami justice were banisheNl

WIJAIAM SAMPSON*

iVom the earth. That I wanted nothing more than to go to Bordeaux, where alone I could hope for some clue to mj situation, or the acquaintance of some person of my own country, hy whoso interest I might have the means o) present existence; or when it should appear prudent, of removing elsewhere. And ahovc all, some news of m> family, touching whom I have heen so long and so cruelly in pain.

The loyalty with which I uttered this disposed the as- sembly in my favor. There were some also of the mem- bers who had known something of me hy reading the English papers; and if more were wanting, the prisoners of war, who had been confined at the same time with me in the castle of St. George, arrived at this instant; and Mr, Rivet exerted himself with zeal.

I Mr. Bastereche, the commissary of the executive power, who had at first spoken with so much sternness, now ex- pressed his desire of serving me as far as his duty would permit; and in the first instance I was allowed to remain in Bavomic until he should write to the minister of the police for his decision.

This was in the month of June, 1799, a critical moment in France. The spirit of party was mounted to an extrav- agant height, and a stranger had little chance for repose in such a conflict. Bayonnc was a frontier town, and guarded with jealousy. The remainder of the sum of one hundred pounds, which I had received from Mr. Nash be- Ifore my arrest, was nearly expended; and I in vain cast my eyes round for a friend to apply to: for a stranger in such a moment could expect nothing hut distrust.

No answer was to be expected from the minister of the police, and it happened at this moment that a total revplu

k(A. MEMOIRS 0*

tion took place in that department I applied once mor^ to Mr. Bastereche, and he advised me to present a peti- tion to the municipality, stating all the circumstances of my case, and that they would deliberate, upon it. I there-. fore drew up a very abridged statement of what I have Bow stated to you; and ohserved at the same time, that if I was capahlc of imposing on those whose protection I claimed, I might avail myself of a multitude of publica- tions in the governmental papers against me; and of pub- lic records and acts of parliament. But as all those were false and atrocious, I scorned to profit by them at the ex- pense of truth, and would make no title but that of an op- pressed individual; nor demand any other favor than the permission to remain in peace, the greatest good for me after my liberty.

Upon this petition the municipality deliberated, and con- cluded by drawing up a decree, motived upon the utility of encouraging such strangers as were victims of t.he des- potism of their enemies, and recommending me as a per- son well known in the annals of my country. (See Appen- dix JVo. XIII. J

Had my views been ambitious, nothing could be more flattering; but my determination was, not to meddle with the concerns of government, nor to be surprised into any step for which I was not prepared. No motive has ever since appeared strong enough to tempt me from this re- serve; and I am now as little connected with France, save in gratitude for the asylum it has afforded me, as on the day I first set my foot upon its soil.

I at first objected to this arrete motive, as giving me a character which it was not my desire to avail myself of.. But it was replied to me, that the municipality, in its de«.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. l6l

.sire to serve me, had gone a great length, and that the motives stated were the only ones upon which the mem- bers could justify themselves to their government. That. I was not forced to accept of it; hut that if I did not think proper so to do, I must wait the answer of the minister, of which they could not take upon themselves to say any thing: whereas this arretc was intended to short- en the delays, by sending me directly before the minister, who alone was competent to decide upon my case.

This instrument was to serve me, as you see, for a

passport; and I was bound by it to take the road of

Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitiers, Tours and Orleans, and

to present myself before the municipality in each of those

. towns as I passed. Fearing to be reduced to want, I had no

other part to take, and I made use of it accordingly to go

• as far as Bordeaux, where I without much difficulty obtain-

. ^.d leave to remain, and thereupon struck out my signature.

LETTER XXV.

Bordeaux — Bureau Central — Reflections on Party -Spirit—* New Embarrassments — Mr. Forster— -Special Letter of Exchange— My Protest — Its Effect.

AS I held firmly to my design of steering clear of every interference or declaration that could affect my own independence, I could tile less complain of the rigor- ous scrutiny to which I was exposed. I Avas summoned

several times before the Bureau central, and interrogated

w

16:2 MJEMOIRS OF

strictly; as was my servant and Mr. Rivet, and also the < aptain upon his arrival from St. Sebastian. You will find in the appendix a copy of those interrogatories which I afterwards made interest to obtain. (See Appendix JVo. XI V.J You will perceive by them in how difficult a situ- ation I was placed, and judge whether my persecutors, had they been in my place, would have acted so truly or so honorablv.

It may at some future day be thought worthy of enquiry why I was thus piratically sent to Bordeaux: but had those events which some so confidently expected at that crisis, taken place, my destruction might have easily been effected: for in such angry moments accusation may be heard, but not defence. Be it as it may, my way [was here again strewed with thorns, and bigotry and igno- rance envenomed against me. There is every where un- fortunately, a class to be met with of human beings leaning naturally to the side of power, however depraved or atrocious; and ever ready to enlist under the banners of oppression, and to join in cry of malice. With such I could naturally hold no friendship, nor look for any iustice, much less for benevolence. With them the name of honor and the love of their fellow-creatures is a jest: and never having felt the impulse of any generous feeling, they readily believe that there is no such thing. But I have had the mortification, here as in other places during the course of my persecution, of meeting with persons nat- urally good, and such as I could have wished to esteem, worked up by deceit and calumny to a pitch of uncharita- bleness not very distinguishable from the most odious vice. And this is the most lamentable of all the effects of party- spirit. Thus I, who certainly could boast of as fair titles

WIIXIAM SAMPS0X. 163

as ever man could, to the benevolence of my species, in every part of the world, found myself hunted by a kind of dumb persecution, for no other reason on earth than be- cause I had already been the victim of my own generosity, and the perfidy of my enemies.

Instead of finding any elucidation of my new position. I was here more in the dark than ever: nor did I know to whom to apply for aid. For chasing to be of no party, I had claims on none. The merchants of my own coun- try, who carried on their commerce by connivance, were afraid to serve me for fear of mischief to themselves, I early applied to one of them most noted for liberality, and he refused to have any thing to do with my signature, but offered to lend me a small sum of money, which I refused upon such terms. It is fair to say that I had thought it just to apprize him of that diabolical act of parliament, which made it felony to correspond with me. This I con- ceived it but candid to do: and it had alarmed him proba- bly for his friends who resided in Ireland, and were under the scourge of the laws made by that ever memorable par- liament. I confessed to him also that my servant had been tortured with impunity; and it is not to be wondered at that he should fear, after such information, to do an act which otherwise among civilized beings was but a thing of course.

I was one morning sitting up in my bed, ruminating on this disagreeable subject, when it came into my recollec- tion that there was here a house of commerce, of which the principal was a Mr. Forster, whose son I had known in Oporto; and whom I knew to be the correspondent of several of my friends in the North of Ireland, as well as of Mr. Skeys who, with the privity of the Irish govern-

i04 MEMOIRS OF

nient, had given me letters of recommendation and credit in Portugal. I rose and went to his house, and introduced myself under these titles. I briefly and frankly exposed my situation to him. I found him at first not divested of the common prejudices; but I cut short his animadver- sions by shewing him all my passports and some letters of his correspondents. I then asked him if he would give me the sum of money I should have need of upon my bill? to which he consented.

The usual manner of drawing upon my country during the war, was under a fictitious date. With this form I did not chuse to comply: but for the safety of all con- cerned, I drew upon the same Mr. Skeys for the sum of fifty pounds, dating my draft Bordeaux: and under my signature I wrote, in nature of protest, that I had been sent there from Lisbon against my written and verbal pro- testation to the contrary: and that I was now in nature of a prisoner on parole, under the surveillance of the police. And indeed, so true was this fact, that for eighteen months that I inhabited Bordeaux and its neighborhood, I was constantly held by my passport to present myself every tea days before the municipality*. I am at the same time far from complaining of that circumstance. I see nothing but justice in it, as my claim went no further than to the hospitality due, even in time of war, to a persecuted stranger.

Although the service I received from Mr. Forster, namely, the discounting my bill, does not seem very im- portant: yet considering the refinement of my persecu- tion, and the unabating rancor, of which you will see more towards the conclusion of this narrative, I have rea- son to be very grateful for it. But such was the effect

WILXIAM SAMPSON. 10.5

of terror, such the .abuse of power towards me, that had not this very respectable gentleman done me this goad of. fice, I have reason to think I should not at that juncture have found so much liberality elsewhere. Another act of kindness no less important was added to the obligation, that of forwarding to my family some account of my exist- ence, and apprising the government in my name, which he undertook to do, of what had past.

I wrote besides to Mr. Skcys, upon whom I had drawn., a letter of advice, in which I requested him to reimburse himself by drawing upon my brother-in-law in Belfast.: and I left the protest to work its own effect. I also wrote to Mr. Dobbs, to apprise him of the atrocities committed against me;, and entreated him, not merely as my kins? man, but as one who had borne an active part in the mel- ancholy negotiation abovementioned, to go to the castle and relate what had passed; and to say, that if any step was taken to molest me further, or to injure my securities* that I should then be obliged of necessity to vindicate my- self by showers of proofs which might not be agreeable. Mr. Dobbs went accordingly to Mr. Cooke, who told him that if the representation I made was true, my bail had nothing to fear, and his advice to me was, to remain quiets ly where I was, without taking any further steps.

It was in the latter end of July, that Mr. Forster sailed for Guernsey, from whence he was to proceed to England. And I finding the party spirit encreasing in the town of Bordeaux, and considering it my first duty to avoid enter- ing in any manner into the affairs of a country where I was enjoying, by a special exception in my favor, protection and hospitality: and being also desirous of an economical retreat, I retired to the banks of the Dordogne, in thej

106

MiiMOIRS 01

neighbourhood of St. Andre Cusac, where I spent the re- mainder of the summer. And so well had I calculated what was about to happen, that the very day after my quit- ting Bordeaux, a movement took place which cost some Hves, but which had no other result. It was during my residence in this retired spot, that I had the misfor- tune to loose mv faithful servant, John Russell, who died of a fever, and was buried in the church-yard of St. Gervais, bearing upon his body to the grave, the marks of the torture he had undergone.

The death of this faithful friend, for so I must now call him, was indeed a poignant affliction. With a heart big with anguish, and eyes wet with unfeigned tears, I exam- ined his dead body and contemplated the scars which the lash of his atrocious executioners had inflicted. His gal- lant and generous spirit was fled to the mansions of eter- nal rest! He was gone to appear before that Judge, in whose sight, servant and master, lord and peasant, stand in equal degree. If it he the will of that Righteous and Eternal Judge to confront the guilty with the innocent, what must be the wretchedness, what the atonement of those vicious men? In the whole course of his services, I had never once opened my mouth to him upon any subject of political concern; and the unvaried and voluntary re- spect he bore towards me, was a law which he had never once transgressed. He was as gentle as he w;as brave; and the most respectable inhabitants of the commune where he died, did not refuse to his memory the tribute of a tear. It wras not for many days after, that mine ceased to flow: and when again on examining his effects, I per- ceived in one of his frocks the hole through which the cartridge of the Orangeman in Abbey-street had pierced,

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 167

that additional token of his magnanimity revived those

emotions of grief and sorrow, wliich my own personal sufferings had never been able to extort.

LETTER XXVI.

Mrs. Sampson — Correspondence — Mr. Merry.

AT length, in the month of December, for the first time, after a year's incertitude and silence, I receiv- ed a letter from my wife, which brought me some conso- lation. She and her children were in good health. My bill had been paid, and this was an essential circumstance; as Mr. Forster had left no instructions to those who were charged in his absence with the business of his house, to advance me any further supply; and want again began to stare me in the face.

Mr. Dubourdieu, my brother-in-law, had, upon hearing of my arrest in Portugal, written to the late marquis of Downshire, entreating him to apply to the duke of Port- land for redress, which he did and received a written an- swer, which he transmitted to my brother-in-law, that the duke of Portland, on account of the improper conduct and language of Mr. Sampson in Wales, could not interfere in his behalf! My sister also wrote to Mr. Wickam, who promised to lay her letter before the duke of Portland, but could hold out no hopes of success after the represent ations already made on the subject. And my wife like wise wrote to this latter gentleman, but received no an-

'■GS MEMOIRS 0*

g '.vol*, and enclosed a letter with a request to have it for warded to mc, which it never was.

My sister also applied to lord Castlereagh, through one of the ladies of his family, but with no better effect: for

answered, that I was accused of attempting to corrupt (She minds of some people in a fishing town in Wales, v. here I was wrecked. If there be facts in nature which are beyond all comment, or which stand in need of none, these arc they. When it is considered that I was at this iime to pass through the secret dungeons of the inquisition, from which the issue is not easy; when it is considered that I had, through reliance on the good faith of the gov- ernment, of the king, lords and commons of Ireland, de- livered myself up into their hands; that I had, for my en- tire protection and guarantee, the passports of those very ministers, who were in every sense bound to be my pro* lectors, if any tie of honor, or any notion of those princi- ples upon which society can alone be supported, and which are sacred even among barbarians, remained; then let mc ask upon what ground the English government now stands? or what it is that secures the liberty, the prop- erty, or the person of any individual? Why shall not what has been practised against me be practised against Others? Before I condescended to make any agreement I was locked up in solitude for many months, in vain de- manding a trial. My servant had been tortured in vain to extort an accusation against me. And when I, relying upon lord Cornwallis, consented to terms from motives too pure to be discussed with such men, those terms had been most basely and most falsely violated. At first I was sus- pected of treasonable practices, because I would have re- sisted murder and torture: for I defy any man to name any

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 169

other treason I have committed. And again, I was ac- cused of corrupting the people of a country where my misfortunes and a cruel persecution had driven me, and where I never had any communication that could give the slightest sanction to such a charge. The day may come, when the measure of these crimes may be full and run over. My character has triumphed over every attack. Alas, what would my enemies appear, were they put to their defence! Perhaps that moment when oppressed and insulted humanity may recalcitrate, is not far off: until then the enemies of England may triumph in her abject state. It is every thing that her enemies can wish; and they need by no means despair to see the same manacles, the same bloody whips and instruments of torture, the use of which has been indemnified in Ireland, used also and indemnified in England. Oh fallen Englishmen! when you could bear to hear of indemnified torture in Ire- land, you were from that moment prepared for the yoke yourselves. The bulwarks of your liberty, generosity and honesty, were gone. It was but a small step to make; and torture, it will be argued, is not an unfit regimen for ihosc who can consent to the torture of their fellow-men, But let me return from this unprofitable digression, and hasten to conclude a story too pregnant with disagreeable conclusions.

My wife, after a great length of time, wrote to the duke of Portland a letter, which it is right I should transcribe. It will be for him whose heart is not lost to virtue, and whose best feelings are not drowned in the habitual profli- gacy of the times, to appreciate her sorrows, and my wrongs.

170 MEMOIRS OF

To his Grace the Duke of Portland, $c. SfC. $c. ,

My Lord Duke,

The .situation of my husband and children urge jne, though obscure and unknown, to encroach a moment on your Grace's patience; and misfortune and misery are the only apologies I have to offer for this intrusion. In October 1798, lord Cornwallis permitted Mr. Sampson to leave the Irish prison, where he was detained six months without an accusation or trial, and sailed for Lisbon, his health being greatly impaired. This was intended for an indulgence; and no other of the prisoners having been treated in the same manner, we were considered to be ve- ry much favored. But he was soon after arrested at 0- porto; the cause of which we have never yet been able to discover. And after being long and rigorously imprison- ed, he was sent by force from Lisbon, and landed at Bor- deaux, where he was detained as being a British subject, travelling with your grace's passport. But supposing he were permitted by the French to return, the nature of his sure- tics, on leaving Dublin, prevent his returning to Ireland without permission from the English government. When he was imprisoned, and afterwards compelled to leave Portugal, and sent forceably to Bordeaux, Mr. Walpolc was ambassador at Lisbon; and I should hope that, by referring to him, your grace might hear the truth; a\- though he may not have known all that my husband suffered.

Could I hope, that moved by compassion towards me and my little helpless children, you would restore him to his liberty and family; or if this be at present too great a favor to expect, may I hope that your grace would permit

WILLIAM SAMI*SON. 171

ihe enclosed letter to be sent to Mr. Sampson, through the medium of your office, to the agent for British prisoners in France? and to allow me to receive his answers? Even this would confer an everlasting obligation on your grace's Most obedient

Humble servant,

Grace Sampson*

Belfast, March 10, 1800. To this letter the following answer was returned.

Madam,

I am directed by the duke of Portland to

acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 10th instant, enclosing one for Mr. Sampson, which his grace has for- warded to the commissioners of the transport service here, in order that it may be forwarded to France. I am also to acquaint you, that his grace has no objection to your corresponding with Mr. Sampson: but that it will be necessary for you to send all your letters unsealed to him

for this office.

J am, Madam,

Four most obedient humble servant,

J. King,

Now here was a very gracious concession made to the tears and prayers of my unfortunate wife. That I should femain where I was cent by force, and where I must stay in fact: as without volunteering in search of new dun- geons, of want, and eternal separation, I could not stir. For time has proved, that had I gone to almost any coun- try in Europe, except Turkey, or Portugal where I came from, I should have very soon found myself in a country

- - ME^OIKS Of

at war with the king of En Hand, whose arms were vet rod with the blood shod for those thrones which they were HOW to bombard, and for the deliverance of that Europe with which his ministers are now at war.

I was also allowed to correspond with my wife hy un- healed letters, sent to the secretary of state's office, to be read. Certainly this was more agreeable than to have my letters basely intercepted, in order that to my own suf- ferings, the tortured feelings of an innocent wife and mother might be added. But let me ask in what part of my agreement with lord Cornwallis will it be found, that I was to be thus cut off from a country to which I have been so true, that I have no other enemies than its ene- mies? Upon what ground was it that a man who h?.d committed no crime, should be treated like an outcast, and that the pains of felony should light upon a virtuous wife for holding correspondence with him? Let me not pursue this further; justice may one day return; until then com- plaint is idle. Suffice it for the present to say, that Mrs. Sampson was so charmed with this mitigation of her tor- ment and the atrocities practised against me, that she re- turned an answer overflowing with gratitude, and I my- self was well pleased that there was somewhere to be found a term to the extent of persecution. But the worst was vet to follow.

It was natural now, that since I could not go to my fam- ily, for that had been positively forbidden, they should at least be permitted to come to me. That religion, for which the earth has been so amply drenched in human gore, has it for a precept, "Y»Tiom God has put together, let no man put asunder." There wanted but this sacrilege rn nil the measure of my wrongs. And on the 27th of

WILLIAM SAMPSON. *"••>

July, Mrs. Sampson wrote to the duke of Portland in these words:

My Lord,

Having been indulged by your grace in a manner that has excited a very lively sense of grati- tude, with the permission of corresponding with Mr. Sampson, I am emboldened to make a second application, which I hope your grace will pardon, in consideration that I have been separated two years and an half from my husband, except a few weeks that I was permitted to be with him in prison. What I have now to trouble your grace for, is leave to pass with my children, and a female s. want, to Bordeaux. And if this indulgence be attain- able, I hope your grace will furnish me with passports, which will enable me to sail in a neutral vessel: or if that should not occur, and I could make it convenient to go to Dover, should I be permitted a passage in a cartel ship to Calais. I shall not trespass longer on your grace's time, than to entreat, that if there be any thing improper in this application, you will have the goodness to excuse it on ac- count of my miserable situation, and allow me to remain Your grace's Much obliged, And very humble servant,

Grace Sampson.

To the above, the following answer was received:

Madam,

I am directed by the duke of Portland,

*o acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 37th, re-

174 ME MOlli^ OF

questing permission to pass with your family over to Bor- deaux.

I am to express to you his grace's regret, that the regu- lations it has been found necessary to adopt in the present moment, will not admit of his grace's compliance with your wishes in this case. / am, Madam, Your most obedient

Humble servant,

C. W. Fxint.

I leave it now to you, my friend, to imagine, if you can, any thing more refined in persecution than this: and I shall not insult you by making any further comment upon it.

In the summer of 1806, the rumors of peace gained ground, and I, with the advice of my friends, formed the project of coming to Paris, where I might be on the spot if any occasion should offer of claiming redress. This hope proved vain, and I passed the winter in unprofitable expectation, and part of it in sickness.

During the summer of the last year, whilst great arma- ments were fitting out, and lord Nelson was bombarding the port of Boulogne, I was on a visit at the country-seat of a friend, and from thence went to the waters of Plombiere; from whence I had the intention of proceeding to Switzer- land. Captain Cotes had had the goodness to charge himself with the care of forwarding my wife's letters to me wherever I should desire to have them addressed. But a change took place in England, which deprived me of that advantage; and I returned in the month of August to Par- is. The duke of Portland had in the meantime been suc- ceeded by lord Pelham, and Mr. Cotes by Mr. Merry.

W11HAM SAMPSOJf. W3

As soon as I heard of Mr. Merry's arrival; I wrote to request that he would do me the same kindness that Mr. Cotes had promised. But between the date of my letter, and that of his answer; there was the distance of a month: and it was not until after my return to Paris, that I receiv- ed his answer. As it is but short, I shall transcribe it,

a Monsieur Monsieur milium Sampson, a PlomUerc.

Paris, August 15, 1800. Sir,

I have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 16th ult. in answer to which I beg leave to ob- serve, that captain Cotes did not mention any thing to me relative to your correspondence: and I am sorry to add; that it is not in my power to comply with your wishes on that subject, without I receive an order for that purpose from the British government. I am, Sir,

Tour most obedient Humble servant,

Ant. Merry.

I next waited upon Mr. Merry, who excused himself from forwarding my letters, but offered to take charge of any application I should wish to address to lord Pelhanu to whom I wrote a long letter, stating all that had been perpetrated against me; and protesting anew against the injustice of being sent into an enemy's country, where I assured him with truth, I had not at tins day nor never had any other relation than the loyalty which every honest man owes to any government whatsoever whilst under its protection, and whilst it tenders him an asylum rather

171 MEMOIRS OF

than a prison: and I enclosed a letter to my wife filled with little details which I intended to follow up by a jour- nal of my projected tour through Switzerland. But my letter was suppressed, and no answer returned to me, which determined me to make no other appeal through that channel.

In the above mentioned letter to my wife, I had, in hopes of amusing her, mentioned amongst other little de- tails, my having made the acquaintance of Madame Bona- pnrte,\ and her daughter Mademoiselle Hortence.\ You will, I am sure, upon reading these names, expect that I should say something of their persons. You will be cu rious to know what are the charms that can captivate that spirit which no other power can restrain; and it is right you should as far as in my power be satisfied.

As to Josephine, the freedom which reigns at such watering places gave me daily opportunity of observing her: and I was often of those rural excursions in which she joined, and invited to the entertainments given in her honor. Were I then to pronounce, I should ascribe her ascendancy to the gentleness and flexibility of her disposi- tion; to a graceful person, an elegant deportment, with an habitual or constitutional desire of pleasing, polished by the usage of the best society. These are indeed truly fem- inine attributes, more winning, undoubtedly, than mascu- line endowments of the understanding, which sometimes excite to contention and encroach upon the natural graces of the sex. Mademoiselle Hortence is also of an affable character, adding the agreeable manners of her mother to the gaiety natural to her years; insomuch that I have had

t Now Empress Josephine. t Now Queen of Holland-

WIXfcXAM SAMPSON. 17?

the honor of playing hot-cockles and draw-gloves with her; I had obtained her permission to write to her on behalf of a friend, whose occasions not requiring it, I no further availed myself of it. This I almost regret, as I should have been undoubtedly proud of such a correspondent.! She possesses various accomplishments, rides well, dances well, and designs well. She was then employed in finish- ing a whole length portrait of the first consul. She also spoke English: and as I lodged just opposite her balcony, we often talked across the street in my vernacular tongue.

Madame Bonaparte, the mother, is a fine person un- doubtedly for her years; a sensible Italian physiognomy, fresh, alert and vigorous. On the day of a fete champe- tre in the enchanting valley called the Val-da-gol, the rendesvous of the ladies was on a steep and ruggid moun- tain. She took my arm to descend the abrupt declivity, which she achieved with the lightness of a nymph; prov- ing herself the true mother of her intrepid son. I asked her if it would not be delightful to pass away life in peace amongst these craggy mountains and flowery fields? and she answered, as if from her heart, with an accent that marked a soul: On n'y serait que trop hereux. This, my dear friend, is all I can call to mind. If these little gbs- sippings be of. no importance in themselves, the persons of whom they are related and their growing and extraor- dinary fortunes may give them some. If they afford you £he slightest amusement I am repaid.

I might have had the honor of being, on my return to Paris, presented at the circles of these ladies, and at the court; but after the arrival of the English ambassador, a

fThis is not said because this lady is now a queen; but be- cause she was then so amiable.

Y

17b memolrs or

rule was made, that no stranger should be presented, but by the ministers of their respective countries; and I, a poor Irish exile, had no country nor no minister. That howev- er does not hinder me to live in peace with myself and all the world.

LETTER XXV II.

peace — CornwalHs — Colonel Littlehales — Mij Memorial- — ► Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecution — Mrs. Sampson — Her arrival in France with her Chil- drev. •

AT length, in an unexpected moment, the sound ot cannon proclaimed the joyful news of peace. Festive illu- minations gave it new eclat, and drooping humanity, halt* doubting, half believing, ventured to raise up her head. Next came the news of the almost frantic transports into which this event had thrown the government, no less than the people of England; and how all contending parties seemed now to be united. This might be supposed an aus- picious moment for me; one of whose principal crimes was, with the infinite majority of the people of Great Britain and Ireland, to have opposed a war, the bare termina- tion of which, although no one end for which it was ever pretended to exist had been attained, produced so much exstacy. If such a peace had produced so much joy, as to resemble the effects of a reprieve upon the point of an exc*

WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 179

eution,t one would suppose, that persecution would at least .ease against those who had never encouraged that war; one might have hoped, that past experience had dictated a milder and a wiser system.

But more: The minister of this good work, was lord Cornwallis; the same nobleman whose honor was pledged to me so solemnly, that I was authorised hy the chancellor, lord Clare, to say, "that the government that could prove false to such an agreement, could neither stand, nor de- serve to stand." Relying upon lord Cornwallis's honor, however, more than on the assertions of lord Clare, I had given him a confidence blindly implicit, and to that honor so flagrantly violated, I had now an opportunity to appeal. He was now in the plenitude of power, and he knew wheth- er four years separation from my family, and that detesta- ble and atrocious law, that it should be felony to corres- pond with me, entered either into the letter or the spirit of my agreement with him, for so alone I shall consent to call it; or whether so base and virulent a persecution was a just return for the loyalty I had put into the observation of ,my part of this hard bargain, and the moderation I had shewn not to speak of the great sacrifice I had made to humanity and peace. I was warmly counselled also by my friends, and I had sincere ones in every class (for I have sought only the good, and shunned only the vicious of any party) to apply directly to lord Cornwallis for re- dress. Nohody doubted, that he who had power to make such an agreement would have power to make it respect- ed. Or that he being entrusted with the destiny of so ma-

f Mr. Lauriston, the Aid-de-Camp who carried the news to England, was drawn in triumph, by the Englishmen, through, the streets of London.

1 80 MEMOIRS OF

ny nations, was equal to give a passport to an individual; who certainly, under the circumstances, had a right to it. But in this my friends, French, Irish and English, were ?«likc deceived as the sequel will shew.

A few days after the arrival of lord Cornwallis, I de- manded of him in writing, an audience of a few minutes, and after some days, I was at his desire received by his secretary, colonel Littlehales. This gentleman professed to he already in possession of my story, at which I was well pleased. But that we might the better understand each other, I begged to know if he was induced, from any tiling he knew of me, to look upon me as a person who was guilty of any crime? lie answered with a frankness that gave me still a better opinion of him, that I was accused of being concerned in that which had cost so much blood. I replied, that when I was in prison was the time to have examined into that; then when I might be truly said to be IB the hands of my enemies, in the midst of terror and carnage; when every law, save those of destruction, was suspended; when I had no other possible protection than the courage of honor and innocence, I had boldly and un- remittingly, to the last hour, demanded a trial, which had been shamefully refused. For had it been granted, I vould have made it too clearly appear against my ac- : users, that they were traitors in every sense of the word; and that if I was as they pretended, a rebel, I was a rebel only against the crimes of treason, disloyalty, subordina- tion, murder, torture, kidnapping, arson, and house-break- ing; crimes against which I was bound by my true allegi- ance to rebel. It was natural I said for those who had taken upon themselves to be my judges, accusers and exe- "vtioners., to propagate zealously such calumny, because as

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 181

iheir crimes were my defence, so my innocence was their guilt. They might justify themselves in having by blood- shed, which I struggled to prevent, worked the union be- tween England and Ireland. But it was too extravagant to call an Irishman a traitor, however he might be an enemy to such proceedings. And if this great measure is to be followed, as it was preceded by proscriptions, trea- sons, and persecutions, it must remain a union certainly in name alone. Lord Cornwallis's principal glory, I added, in Ireland, had been putting a stop to horrors at which the human heart recoils, and which I have been disgrace- fully persecuted for opposing. I did not deny, that under such circumstances, educated as I was in notions of consti- tution, liberty, and true religion, I might have been bold, or call it mad, enough to have taken the field. But this I never had done; and that all the charges against me, such as being a French general, a traitor, and so forth, were alike contemptible, and undeserving of an answer. I told colonel Littlehales, moreover, that the best compli- ment I could offer to lord Cornwallis was to assure him of my firm belief, that in my situation he would have done the same thing; and that upon no pretext whatever he would suffer my countrymen to go over to his country and torture his countrvmen or ravish his country -women. If I did not think so, and that he would repel them at the peril of his existence, I should not think of him as I did, and no man should ever have seen me at his door. I also answered colonel Littlehales, that of all the charges preferred against me, not one happened to be true. But if it was any satisfaction to him at any time, I was ready to say to what degree, and in what manner, I should have consented to repel force by force.

132 MF/M01RS <iB

Such were the topics 1 used; but which I certainly urged « ith all the deference due to his situation, and to the per- son of the marquis Cormvallis, whom I always wished to respect. However, he interrupted me by advising me in the name of lord Cormvallis, as a friend, to present him a memorial, which he (lord Cormvallis) would undertake to forward to the lord lieutenant of Ireland; but that I should leave out every thing but what went to prove that I came involuntarily into France, and that I had not since I had been there joined in any hostility against the government of England. And colonel Littlehales added, that he him- self would be in Ireland as soon as the memorial could be there. And he even advised me to apprise my wife of this, and to prevent her coming precipitately over, as told him I had invited her to do after my fruitless applica- tion to lord Pelham. He said that he could not take upon himself to promise; yet in his opinion it was likely to be, since my desire was to return liome, a useless trouble and expense. He told me that in a few clays the post-office would be open, and that I might write freely in that way; but as I feared the interception of my letters, that channel having long ceased to be inviolate, he charged himself with the care of forwarding a letter to my wife, to the effect abovementioned. In this letter I advised her to wait a little longer, until an answer to this application should be given. But above all, to be prepared for either event. This letter never reacted her.

,

WILLIAM SAMPSQX. 18f>

I then drew up and delivered the following memorial:

To his Excellency the Marquis ComwaUis, his BrilUh Ma- jesty's Minister Plenipotentiary in France.

The Memorial of William Sampson, native of London- derry,

SHEWETH,

Thai your memorialist, upon the faith of an agreement entered into with your excellency's government, did go to Portugal for the recovery of his health, where he arrived in ftie month of February, 1799.

Upon the 22d of March in the same year, he was arrest- ed in the city of Oporto, sent prisoner to Lisbon, and from thence transported by force to Bordeaux.

In this latter city he remained until the beginning of the last winter, when he was induced, by the rumor of jfeace and the advice of his friends, to come to Paris, in hopes of finding some means of reclaiming justice, such as your excellency's arrival in this country at length seemed to offer.

Immediately after his arrival in France, he took pains to apprise the government of his country of an outrage so flagrant, which was accordingly effected by Mr. Dobbs, a member of the Irish parliament, to whom he begs leave to refer your excellency.

Your memorialist also refers your excellency to his grace the duke of Portland, who was very early informed of this transaction, and who in consequence gave orders, that letters should pass between your memorialist and his wife, through the hands of Mr. Cotes; to which gentle • man he also refers.

Upon your excellency's arrival in Paris he requested an

i4 MEMOIRS OF

audience, in order, if any doubt remained upon your minu, to remove it. That refused, lie must necessarily, to avoid recrimination, pass over details which however mildly stated could only tend to excite horror, and shortly beg of your excellency lo consider,

That, notwithstanding the inhuman manner of his be- ing cast upon an enemy's shore, surrounded by the snares of perfidy and malice; under every circumstance of ag- gravated provocation; with precarious means of subsist- ence, and deprived of all knowledge of ihe destination or even existence of his family; he took counsel, not from his wrongs, but from his honor, so that it is absurd, if not im- possible, to enter into any justification of a character so proudly unimpeached.

Your memorialist therefore requests, that all further persecution may cease. And though the world is not rich enough to make him any compensation for the inju- ries he has sustained, he may be allowed, as far as possi- ble, to forget the past and to return to his country, in order to join his family after a separation of near four years, and take measures for his future establishment, &c.

William Sampson.

Paris, November 13, 1801.

Thus the matter stood when lord Cornwallis left Paris for Amiens. The memorial contained such facts, such proofs and such references, as left nothing to doubt. It would have been insulting lord Cornwallis to have offered him proof, had it been possible, that I did not arrest myself in Portugal, and imprison myself in the house of the corrigidor of Oporto, and in the dungeons of Lisbon. But I had long ago referred to Mr. Walpole, who knew it all

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 185

\Tith respect to what I had not done in France, it was scarcely to be expected that I should have proofs of that. Yet fortune seemed to favor justice in that respect. For the general (Musnier) now sent to command in the city of Amiens, was an officer of unquestioned honor and a man of high consideration in every respect: and this gen- tleman had commanded at Bordeaux when I was there. Having had the good fortune to form a friendship and inti- macy with him, he knew my whole manner of life in that town, until his departure for the army of reserve; a short time before, I myself quitted Bordeaux. I therefore wrote a letter to general Musnier, and begged of him to testify what he knew: and I wrote also by the same post to colonel Littlehales to apprise him of this fact.

From this latter gentleman I received the answer sub- joined:

Sir,

I received the honor of your letter of the 8th. instant last night: and in answer to its contents, I have only to assure you, that I sealed and forwarded the letters, which you transmitted through me to Mrs. Samp- son, the day they reached me.

In regard to your memorial to lord Cornwallis, I like wise submitted it to his lordship, and by his desire transmitted it to one of the under secretaries of state for the home department, to be laid before lord Pelham.

I shall enquire on my arrival in London, which will probably be very soon, whether or not your memorial has

z

186 MEMOIRS OF

been duly received: but it is not in my power further to interfere in vour case.

/ hare the honor to be, Sir, Your most obedient Humble servant,

E. B. LlTTLEHAMES.

HV Sampson, Esq.

And from general Musnier, I had the following letter written in English:

a Monsieur William Sampson, Hotel Bourbon, Rue Jacob,

a Paris. I delivered, dear sir, your letter to Col. Little- hales, and I have the satisfaction to tell you he received it in a very obliging manner, and assured me that the marquis Cornwallis had written to the Irish government in your favor. He promised me also to inform you of the answer, and to continue his endeavors for the success of your desires. Be assured nothing on my side shall be wanting to prevent their forgetting to forward this affair. J am ever yours,

Mr/SNIEK.

Amiens, 22<J Frimaire, 10th year.

Thus things remained until the latter end of January, when I heard from my wife, that Mr. Dobbs had been told by Mr. Marsden, that I could not be permitted to re- turn home; but that there was no objection to my family being permitted to come to me.

This Mr. Marsden is the same gentleman of the law, who so candidly arranged with lord Castlereagh the recog-

WILLIAM SAMPS0X. 187

uisance I was obliged to sign, before I could quit bride- well. After what had passed in Paris, I did not expect to be turned round again to Mr. Marsden- to ask for an an- swer. It was to lord Cornwallis, and not to Mr. Marsden, I had addressed myself. As to Mr. Marsden, I think of him just as I did before: as to him and his associates they could never deceive me, for I never trusted them; nor could any thing they could say either wound or injure me: for

"Insults are innocent where men are worthless."

But lord Oornwallis's honor was at stake: it became him to have redressed me, and he has not done it.

Here then was at length something that appeared to be decided; at least there seemed to be a relinquishment of that monstrous idea of separating me from my family. My friends and I were now assured, that passports would no longer be refused to my family to come and join me; but the venom was not yet assuaged. My persecution had not reached its term: for my wife about this time, having written to the duke of Portland, in her impatience to know her destiny; he answered her, and promised to lay her letter before lord Pelham; and after some time she received the following letter from Mr. King:

Madam,

I am directed by lord Pelham to acquaint you, in answer to your letter to the duke of Portland of the 5th instant, requesting permission for your husband to return to Ireland, that his lordship is very sorry it is aot in his power to comply with your request. J am, Madam,

Your n\ost obedient humble servant,

J. KlNQ.

188 MEMOIRS OF

Indeed the letter by which my kinsman, Mr. Dobbs, announced Mr. Marsden's answer to my wife, was of very bad augur for any view either of humanity, of justice towards me, towards my unoffending wife and children, or my wretched country. In it are these expressions* "I received a letter from your husband a short time ago,'* 4md then it concludes "I would have written to him, but I do not feel that, under the existing circumstances, 1 ought to do so." Now this Mr. Dobbs is my near kinsman. He is a man whom I myself recommended and prevailed upon to be the agent of negociation between the state-pris^ oners and the government, at a time when it entered little into my thoughts, or his, or those of any other person, that I was to be the dupe of the generous part I acted. As to my kinsman, he could not be accused of any but the most natural and inoffensive motive for corresponding with me, and the circumstances he stood in as an agent in the bar- gain I made, called upon him imperiously to communicate with me. Judge then, by these expressions in his letter, of the terror that still broods over this newly united king- dom, so degrading to those who live under its iron sway, and a thousand times more dreadful to an honest mind than death.

END OF THE XETTEBS WRITTEN IN FRANCE;

WlfcliAM SAMPSON* 18&

THE SUBJECT CONTINUED* IN A SERIES OF

LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK,

LETTER XXVIII,

Of the Terror in France*

New-York, 180f. YOUR flattering expressions, my dearest friend* and the interest you take in my fate, are reward enough for any trouble it can cost me, to give my opinion upoft the topics you point out; and to relate the sequel of my story. As in every Work some method must be observed, I shall take the first that presents itself, and in adopting the order Of your questions, make each the subject of a separate letter.

To speak of the terror in France is, I must say, to be- gin with the most painful part of my task. To defend or justify the enormities committed on that great theatre, could least of all be expected from one of my principles or feelings. He who has been devoted to the cause of liberty, and a martyr to the desire of promoting human happiness, must turn with most natural abhorrence from the vices by which the idol of his heart has been profaned.

190 MEMOIRS OF

But since the world lias been made to resound with these i rimes; since they have been celebrated through the uni verse by eloquence so much beyond my pretensions, until every echo has been wearied with the repetition of them, it would be an idle affectation to go over a ground so beaten. I could however wish, that those who have been so zealous in proclaiming the sufferings of the victims to the French terror, had been themselves more innocent of them. That their machinations, intrigues and inter- ference, had not tended to promote them. And I could further wish, that if they were innocent of that terror, they had been also guiltless of one more cruel and more horrible; for too truly may the French terrorist reply to the English terrorist, "mutato nomine de te fabula narra- tor;" by altering the names of things we do not change their nature: and what is tyranny in France, cannot be ennobled in Ireland by the appellation of "loijaltij," of "royidty" or of "rigor beyond the law!''

Yoh express your wonder, that in a civilized country, either monsters should be found to plan such deeds, or in- struments to execute them. But it is surely less wonder- ful that they should happen during the first convulsive throws of a nation bursting the bonds of ancient thraldom; a people long used to abject submission, suddenly and vio- lently becoming masters; and where hostile interference of foreigners, malevolent intrigues, and ferocious threats, had carried rage and despair into the hearts of the multitude, than that they should happen under a regular and settled government.

The state and parliamentary proceedings of England, and also the proclamations of the duke of Brunswick, at t he head of a foreign army, before any terror had been

WILLIAM 3AMPS0X. 191

praetisedy threatened the people of France with fire and sword. The fate of such measures under general Bur- goyne and the others in America, was a sufficiently recent example to have served as a warning against that mode of dragooning, if perverse men were capable of taking a les- son from experience, or measuring with a judicious eye the present and the past.

Then if we must wonder at mad cruelty, let it rather be, that such deeds could be perpetrated under a govern - ment vast and powerful, which had neither interest nor temptation to be any thing but just! Of the terror in Ire- land my former correspondence may have given you some faint idea: some histories since published in more detail, may have fallen into your hands: and indeed the horror of those enormities, in spite of all the pains taken to sup- press it, seems at length to have made its way to the hearts and understandings of the intelligent and virtuous in most parts of the civilized world. And perhaps it is now in England alone, that they are least known or fell. I must observe, nevertheless, that every historian who has treated of them, seems more or less tinctured with the spirit of the times, and to crouch under the sentiment wo deplore: so that whilst it is above all things meritorious to blazon the crimes of the French revolutionists, it is held treasonable and desperate to speak of those of Ire land, as if the ancient proverb, "we are born to suffer," was intended for the edification of Irishmen alone!

For this reason I think it due to justice and to truth, to draw some lines of impartial comparison between these two parties.

First. In France the jacobin chiefs were not, as I ever could learn, avariciouslv interested: few of them enriched

192 MEMOIllS 01

themselves; and it was not until after the fall or decline of their system that great fortunes were made in France out of the public spoil. Now in Ireland, murderers, denoun- cers and traitors were loaded with rewards. And he of the Irish who committed the most cruelties against his countrymen was distinguished with most favor.

Secondly. In France, though death was wantonly in- flicted in a way to make human nature shudder, yet the crime of corporal torture was not resorted to even where guilt was proved; in Ireland, torture of the innocent mere- ly to extort accusation, was the avowed system, and in- demnified as "loyalty and vigor beyond the law!"

Thirdly. In France, the Catholic clergy were banished; in Ireland they were hanged. Many of the French have since returned, and live happy in their country; those hanged in Ireland can never more return.

Fourthly. In France it was a question which of two principles of government should prevail; in Ireland it was whether there should be a national or a foreign govern- ment. I cannot give much credit to the English minis- ters for their zeal in this controversy. For as Mr. Sheri- dan once pointedly observed, England had incurred a, ruinous debt of six hundred millions of pounds sterling, one half of which was to pull down the Bourbons, and the other to set them up. No more consistent was it to send king George's troops to protect the person of the Pope in Rome, and then to tell him that Ins coronation- oath prevented him from giving relief to his Catholic sub- jects at home.

Fifthly. There was no instance in France of men being put to death for saving the lives of their persecutors. In Ireland it was done.

Sixthly. I never could hear that that most brutal of all ferocity, theprdbk violation of female chastity, had made part of the system of terror in France; that it did in Ire land is too deplorably true.

There is a story related and strongly ^tested to me, which it would be unjust to suppress: Two young ladies of the Orange or government faction, whose father, Mr.

H G— , l^d rendered himself by violent cruelty

peculiarly obnoxious; and who (shame of their sex) had performed with their own hands many acts of torture and indignity, fell into the power of the rebels. Their con- sciences suggested that they ought to share the fate which the Irish women had suffered on similar occasions. They addressed themselves to certain young officers of the rebel detachment, requesting their protection from the mob; but offering, as to them, to surrender their persons at dis- cretion. The rebel officers replied with dignity and gene- rosity, that they had taken arms against the enemies of their country, to punish their crimes, but not to imitate

them.

I might push this parallel much further; but it would be useless, and it is certainly disgusting: still, however, your question recurs; how instruments can be found in any country to execute such deeds as makes us sometimes detest our very species, and almost wish to be of any

other.

Grave and true as tftis reflection is, let us not, my dear- est friend, push it too far. And above all, in christian and charitable hope let us presume that all who have had part in these crimes are not in equal guilt. Might it not he possible that even some are innocent?

Without recurring to the tyrannies of remote or an

a a

1P4 MEMOIRS OF

iVnt nations, and all their histories are pregnant with such instances, let us take that of England alone in her civil wars. Multitudes have fallen innocently for what did not concern them. Witness the wars of the white and the red rose. Yet in those wars all the noble blood was attainted with treason and rebellion; whilst the vul- gar rotted without name. All England was in action on one side or other; but it would be too violent to say there was no man of either party innocent.

At an after period, when in the name of the ever living God of Peace and Love, the pile was lighted to burn here- tics and schismatics, and those who would neither swear nor subscribe to new doctrines and articles of credence understood by nobody, were cast into the flames; and those that did subscribe and swear to them, were, in their turn, as the balance of dominion shifted, cast into the flames. When the child yet unborn was ripped from the mother's womb, and cast into the flames, and when the Whole nation was fanaticised on the one side or the other, was no man innocent?

In all the wars of conquest and of plunder, in which England has had her ample share, was no man innocent?

In all the cruelties committed in America, in Africa, and in India, by the English, was no man innocent?

In all the barbarous crimes committed by our ancestors, the English, against our ancestors, the Irish, as bloody as those which have happened in our own days, was no irtjr.i innocent?

When you will have answered all these questions, you will have found the solution of your own.

Let us endeavor to cherish the most consolatory senti- ment. Example, education, habit, ignorance, the influ-

WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 195

ence of power, the smooth seductions of corruption and of luxury, the warmth of passion, the baneful effects of calum- ny and imposture, mistaken zeal which degenerates into bigotry, the weakness of the coward and the pressure of the tyrant, the temptations of wealth and the goadings of necessity, are so many fatal snares ever lying in wait for the integrity of miserable man. None have ever suddenly become consummate in iniquity; the gradations are often insensible. Few causes so bad but may put on some shew of fairness; and the human mind, seldom free from bias of some kind, finds too easy an excuse in sophistry and self- delusion for its first deviations; but the path of rectitude, once forsaken, is not easily regained.

Such is the human heart; its issues are strange and in- scrutable, and the paths of error many and intricate. I have often witnessed with deep regret these early conflicts between virtue and error, in the breast of those I loved. I have seen them struggle; I have seen them suffer; I have seen them falter, and I have seen them fall. I have seen them turn away from me, whilst my heart was yet warm towards them, and have lamented it in vaj.fi; and I have seen, that when the soul first proves recreant to truth, and first swerves from the acknowledged principles of immu- table and eternal justice, it is from that moment diffi- cult to say how far its aberrations may extend. In the beginning it will search for pretexts and excuses; by de- grees it will be more easily satisfied; until at length con- science becomes callous and crime familiar.

Enough, my best friend, of this dismal subject. I have pursued it so far in compliance with your request. It is for my own peace now, that I beg your permission to re-

196 MEMOIRS OF

linquish it. and proceed to your next enquiry, if not more easy of solution, at least more agreeable.

LETTER XXIX.

Of the Character of tfte French Nation.

ON tiiis head I should greatly fear to add to the number of tourists and travellers, who have said much and said little; whoso only merit has been to put together stale conceits and garbled anecdotes. But you say that every nation has a character, and I readily admit it. In general the lines of national character are as distinct as the features of the face. But truly to designate them belongs only to a few favored geniuses, and would require the pencil of Hogarth or the pen of Sterne. Everyone knows that the French are gay, gallant and courteous. I need not repeat, that they dance well, and that they fight well. They are said to be insincere, vain and inconstant, all which perhaps is true, and may lessen the dignity and importance of their character. I am neither partial to them, npr bigotted against them. I may be partial to my own country, perhaps the more because it is unfortunate. I may be partial to the country of my adoption, because I find in it that liberty which in my own is lost; but I am partial to no other; yet it would be unjust to deny that in that one, into which the wickedness of my enemies drove me to take refuge, and where I was compelled to remain near seven years with little else to do than to observe, I

' wiiliam: sambsos. 197"

have found Mends as generous and sincere as any I have known elsewhere. Sincere indeed, because my fortunes were too low to buy me friends. Nor had I ever any rea- son to feel or to suppose I had an enemy. I did not like all I saw in France: I detested much of it. I grieved to fiHd that a great event which had bid fair, as I once tfiought, and as good men hoped, to extend the sphere of human happiness, and the empire of reason, knowledge and philosophy, should, after deluges of human blood, serve to no other end, than to plunge mankind still deep- er in the gulph of corruption and tyranny! But I held it as my duty to respect the power that protected me; and though my opinions were not much disguised, I never was molested for them.

That the French are insincere, is perhaps true; because they are naturally given to exaggeration; but with all that insincerity, I know of no people who will from mere kindness and politeness confer so many favors, and that with so good a grace; it is therefore more agreeable to live among them, undoubtedly, insincere as they may be, than with a people disagreeably sincere and not more be- nevolent. As far as manners are in question, theirs are the most hospitable on the earth.

That they are vain, is true. I wish the conduct of many of their enemies had given them better cause to be less vain. They have however the good sense to temper their vanity with the forms of courtesy, which is better still than "to be proud and brutal, as some 'Other people are, who mistake stiffness for dignity, sullenness for superiori- ty, and abruptness for sincerity.

Their inconstancy proceeds from tluat which is the true basis of all their actions, and the essential difference be-

/

103 MKMOIliS OF

twecn their character iind that of other nations, the cxv treme love of enjoyment, or as they themselves call it, U besom de jouir. They are the true epicureans. They love pleasure above all things, and will buy it at any price. They will fight, coax, flatter, cheat — any thing to gain it. But this justice must be allowed them, that feeling the ne- cessity of being pleased, they think it a duty to be agreea- ble; and they seemed to have formed a social contract to amuse and be amused reciprocally. On the same epicurian principle, that they love pleasure beyond all other people, they shun pain, and are beyond all others ingenious in giv- ing it a defeat. And against that kind of pain for which they have a term so appropriate, that otlier nations are obliged to borrow it from them, that torment of the idler, which they call ennui, they arc ever actively in arms.

Set a Frenchman down in any part of the earth, in peace or in war; let him be destitute of every thing, he will make the best of his position. And no sooner will he have provided himself with food and raiment, than he will have sought out some means for his amusement. II faut samuser is a fundamental maxim of their philosophy, and they will tell you, Jlutant vaut crever defaim que de crever d' ennui. And indeed the most favorable aspect under which the French character can be viewed, is that which so many of the unfortunate emigrants have assumed, when nnder the pressure of misfortune and disgrace, they have turned with so much cheerfulness the little accomplish- ments of their education to profit, or struck out with ad- mirable ingenuity new inventions of their own industry.

Another remarkable singularity is, that the French, al- though gay, versatile and airy, are governed more than any other people by settled rules of conduct and of beha

WILLIAM SAMPSOXjr 1*-J

■Vitfar. These rules constitute their social code, and are entitled usage. The highest praise you can bestow, m a stranger particularly, is, that he has beaucoup d'usage. A. proud Englishman of my acquaintance once thought him- self insulted by a compliment of that kind from a gentle- man, and seemed inclined to return it ungraciously, until a lady interfered and set the thing to rights, by saying, que V usage n'empeche pas d' avoir de V esprit il sort sentiment a le regler. To be original on the same principle is to he ridiculous, and this sentiment has passed into a bye- word; so that c'sf un original is the same as to say, that is a quiz. It may be a question, however, whether this scrupulous attention to routinary and practical observances does not sometimes damp the fire of the imagination and the freedom of true wit.

When you ask me then, how I like the French, I say, how should I like them but well. Englishmen and Frenchmen may be natural enemies; but the Irish, to whom they have never done such injuries as the English have, and who have found an asylum in their country is every period of their oppressions, have no need to be their enemies. At all events, they are still in a state of permanent and natural alliance with the charms of their women and their wine. And this brings me to speak of the French ladies, who are very deserving of a separate notice.

Of the French Women.

What a subject, Oli Jupiter! What muse to invoke: what colors to employ! Who is he that can describe this whimsical, incomprehensible and interacting being'?

HEM0IB9 ut

Well did Sterne say, that "nothing here was salique but the government." For the ladies of France, to in- demnify themselves for this exclusion from the throne, have seized upon the most despotic power, and rule over their subjects "with absolute sway.

A pretty woman in France is a sovereign prince, who knows neither resistance nor controul. She is an ambi- tious potentate, that makes conquests and cedes them, and will exchange a subject as a province. In the midst of her circle she is a law-giver, and her decrees, like the proclamations of king Henry the eighth, have the full force of acts of parliament. At her toilet she holds her levy; in her boudoir she gives private audience, and in her bed she receives her ministers. She has favorites and officers of state, and confirms their honors by a kiss of her hand. Her train is filled with rival courtiers and jealous expect- ants, whom she keeps in peace and civility by her sove- reign authority. Her forces, like her ways and means, are inexhaustible. She pays her servants with a smile, and subdues her enemies with a frown. She makes war with the artillery of her eyes, and peace she seals with the impression of her lips. Rebels and male-contents she pun- ishes with exile or death, as the case may be. She pro- tects learning, science and the arts. Authors submit their works to her, and artists implore her patronage. She receives the homage of the gay, of the grave, of the old and of the young. The sage, the hero, the wit and the philosopher, all range themselves under her banners and obey her laws. In all the concerns of life she rules, directs, presides. She transacts all affairs; projects, de- cides and executes. She is in all temporal matters liege lady and proprietor; the resolution of a man, the grace of

-VV1L1IAM SAMPSON. 201

an angel. As to her capacities, she is hut an elegant little variety of man. Her titles are undisputed. Ask whose house that is: it belongs to Madame une telle.' Has she a husband? 1 cant say: I never saw any.

Will you have a more familiar instance? I was sitting at the fire side with my wife; a tradesman brought in a pair of boots; I asked if they were my boots? I do not know, sir, I believe they are for the husband of madame! Enquire who is that cavalier? He is of the society of

madaine . She is the sun of a sphere, and all

her planets and satellites walze round her; and her voice, is the music of the sphere.

Taught from her infancy to please, and conscious 0f her power by its effects, she wears the air of acknowledged superiority, and receives man's submission as her due. Yet ever zealous to extend her empire, ever active in main- taining it, she neglects no art, no charm, no seduction. When she moves, it is all grace; when she sings, it is all sentiment; when she looks, it is all expression; when she* languishes, it is all softness; when she frolics it is all riot,* when she sighs, it is all tenderness; when she smiles it is all happiness; and when she laughs, all is mirth. She is good-humored from philosophy, and kind from calculation. Her beauty is her treasure, and she knows that Ill-humors impair it. De ne pas se faire mauvais savg, is her car- dinal maxim. Thus, with all the vivacity of her nature, she shuns strong emotions, and becomes upon principle, dispassionate and cold; for her ambition is to be adored, and not to love — Hold, hold, I hear you exclaim, then she is a coquette? Alack-a-day, my friend, and it is even so!

But let justice ever guide my pen. However coquet- tish these fascinating beings may be; however e;eneral3v

Bb

;>02 MEMOIRS Ok

they may be charged with gallantry, and I am no knight- errant, nor bound to prove the contrary; yet I believe many there are who speak of them unfairly, and "fancy raptures that they never knew." And I think I can as- sure you, that there are in France as affectionate and faithful wives, as tender and attentive mothers, as in any other country of the earth. Such, however, are not natu- rally the first to present themselves to the acquaintance of the stranger or traveller.

LETTER XXX.

Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Correspondence — Mr. Thornton — Lord Hawkesbury — Mr. Fox.

IT is time now that my accounts are settled and my debts discharged in France, that we should think of leaving it. From the year 1799, until the arrival of Mrs. Sampson in 1802, I had led a bachelor's life, which had given me an opportunity of making a very numerous ac- quaintance. If ever we should meet again, I might per- haps amuse you with such observations a& I have been able to make upon some of those who now figure amongst the first personages of the universe, and with my opinions of their various merits. But besides that I should fear to weary your patience, I am now obliged to dedicate almost all my hours to the occupations and studies of my profes- sion, and am forced to hurry through this correspondence in a manner more careless and abrupt than you might

WILLIAM SAMPSON. £0fc

otherwise have reason to be pleased with. Necessity is in this case my apology; and I count upon your accept- ance of it.

After the arrival of Mrs. Sampson my life became once more domestic. We joined our labours in the education of our children, which became our chief pleasure and our principal care. We were not unrewarded for our pains. Their letters in various languages, which I have for- warded to you, may give you some idea of the progress of their understandings, and are the unstudied effusions of their innocent hearts. We spent three summers in the charming valley of Montmorency and as many winters in Paris, not so much to enjoy its brilliant pleasures as to give our children the advantage of the best masters in those accomplishments which they could never learn so well elsewhere. But at length, some symptoms of declin- ing health in my son, certain family concerns, and the desire my wife had to revisit a kind and excellent mother whom she loves with a deserved enthusiasm, decided us to endeavor at returning. Indeed I was tired of living in- active, and long wished to take my flight for the happy country where, fate, it seems, had intended I should at last repose.

The intensity of the war with England made a state of neutrality and independence more difficult to be preserved; and the sincerity of my disposition allowed of no disguise. I applied therefore for a passport which I obtained, not without difficulty, to go to Hamburg; and this was granted on the recommendation of my countrymen who were in the French service, and from other persons of distinction, and who were willing to do me every good office. My passport was that of a prisoner of war, signed by the min-

xb4 MEMOIRS 0¥

ister of war and countersigned by the minister of police* (See Appendix JVo. XV. )

Nothing in our journey was worth remarking until we arrived at Rotterdam. There we were like to have suffer- ed a heavy misfortune from the loss of our only son, who was attacked with a violent fever, which detained us, I think, six weeks. The only pleasure or consolation we had in this town, was in the goodness and hospitality of Mr. George Crawford, a Scotch gentleman of good for- tune, who without place or office represents his country, by his reception of strangers from every quarter of the world, in a distinguished and honorable manner.

We spent some days at the Hague, and about the latter end of June left Holland, passing from Amsterdam across the Zuyder Sea, and reached Hamburg in the month of July. On my arrival I thought it prudent to present my- self both to the French and English minister. For if I was to go to England, I should require the protection of the latter; or if circumstances should oblige me to return to France, of the former.

I lost no time in announcing to Mr. Thornton my situa- tion and my wishes, and produced to him such of my papers as might satisfy him at; once of my identity and my views; and after some explanation he undertook to write to lord Hawkesbury respecting my permission to conduct my wife and children home.

I must sav, that of all the towns where it has been my fortune to be, this was the least agreeable. Hitherto our little means, backed by the various kindnesses and par- tialities of friends, had made our course of life smooth and agreeable, nor was there any reasonable gratification to which we were strangers. In this place, the very as-

Willi AM SAMPSON.

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nect of which is odious, there were few sources of enjoy- ment, and those expensive. From one or two respectable families we received some attentions; but we soon found that retirement was our best prospect of comfort.

There is a custom inhospitable, and deserving of animad- version, which has too much prevalence in other countries, but which is pushed to extreme both in Holland and in this city, which is, that the guest must pay a heavy ran- som at any genteel house, to get out of the hands of the servants. I have been told that some servants get no other wages. I should not wonder if they bought their places. At all events, between coach-hire, ransom and cards, at which I never play without losing, we found a dinner or supper too dear for our shattered fortunes, and determined prudently to live on ourselves. I had besides, a horror of this town, from the recollection of the cruel- ties committed upon certain of my countrymen, as you will see by the short, simple and truly interesting narrativo lately published at Versailles, by William Corbet, en- titled La condnite du senat de Hamburg devoilee aux yewx de V Europe, of which I send you" a copy. We provided ourselves, therefore, with a lodging at a place called Slavshoff, on the banks of the Elbe, near Altona, the Same which the English minister, Rumbold, had occupied at the time of his arrest; and there we dedicated our time as before to the care and education of our children. My son was now eleven years of age, and sufficiently advanced to make his tuition a source of some amusement and profit to myself. We often walked with our book along the strand, and divided our time between exercise and study. I was a play-fellow to him and he was a companion to me. When we met an agreeable and sequestered spot, we sat

COG .MEMO IKS OF

clown to study, and when tired we got up and walked. Thus wc followed the outward discipline of the Pcripatet- io school, though in many things we differed from it, and lidd considerably less to the opinions of Aristotle. It is curious to recollect how many didactic sentences, how many grave aphorisms, rules of criticism, logic and philoso- phy, that poor child has been cajoled to swallow, as well on the hanks of this river, as in the lovely forest of Mont- morency, either climbing upon a rock, or swinging on the bow of a green tree.

My daughter was about nine years old and gifted, if my partiality docs not deceive me, with uncommon powers of mind! The facility with which she could conceive and learn things above the level of her years, often surprised and delighted me. She had besides a little arch turn of Irish drollery, which enhanced her merit in my eyes, with an amiable caressing manner, and above all a heart full of sensibility and goodness.

She had learned at Paris to dance and to draw. In the former she became in a short time very excellent, even in that country where that accomplishment is so universal and so improved. Her brother acquitted himself very well also; and they have sometimes innocently figured in i heir old arid new gavottee of restris, before some of the first good company of Europe. I knew just enough of this matter, from having paid attention to their lessons, to exercise -them. I had stolen some instructions from their drawing1 masters, and having a natural love of the art, I was in some slight degree qualified to be their teacher un- til a better could be had. I taught them moreover to write, in which my son has now surpassed me, and to count, and now he and I are perhaps on a par. I made

I

WIIMAM SAMPSON. £07

them write little letters to each other alternately in French and English, and as I soon learned to read the Hamburgh Correspondenten, so I began to teach my son to read the German. But in this the scholar soon became master; and he repaid me in a short time for my poor lessons in the German language, by teaching mc to speak it and to write it. He had then advanced so far in the Latin as to have a sort of understanding of the JEneid, and in a few months more would have had no difficulty with any Latin author, had I not judged it preferable, for fear of oppress- ing his mind with too maity studies, to drop that course in order that he might take more full advantage of the opportunity that offered of acquiring the German. And though we were now in Germany, yet you would be much surprised at the difficulties we had to attain this end. During the summer which we spent at Slavshoff, I in vain endeavored to get him put to school, for it was necessary to conform to the rules of these seminaries, and to send him to board there for a certain length of time, with other circumstances, which did not square with my plans. In the house where we lived there was no person but the gardner who spoke German. He was a Hanoverian; all the rest, masters and servants, were French. In the shops and all other places where any little affairs might lead us, they preferred speaking bad French or bad English, to hearing our bad German: and indeed the language of Hamburg and Altona is a most barbarous jargon, called plat Deuchf insomuch that I have been told by those who spoke the true language, that they could not understand this. Tims my son was indebted for all he knew of tha polite German, to the Hanoverian (George) until he ro turned in the winter to Hamburg, and her» the matter was

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not easily mended. I naturally wished to put him to one

of the first schools; but there I found it was forbidden ander fines and penalties, to speak in the German lan- guage; and in French or English he needed no instruc- tions. I therefore sent him to a school of less pretensions where he made a Aery rapid progress. But leaving this subject, let us return to our story.

You will recollect, that Mr. Thornton had promised, shortly after my coming to Hamburg, to write to lord Hawkesbury. The summer however passed over without any answer; and I then determined to write myself. The following is a copy of my letter:

To the Right Hon. Lord Hawkesbury, His Majesty's Princi- pal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, London.

Hamburg, September 3, 1801. My Lord,

My case having been already represented to government, I shall not trouble your lordship with a useless repetition. During eight years I have been sep- arated from my friends and my country, under very ex- traordinary circumstances. My conduct has defied all reproach. And your lordship is too well informed to be ignorant of that fact. I do not attempt to reconcile your lordship to my avowed conduct and sentiments, prior to lny arrestation. My peculiar position in my country, and the point of view in which I saw what passed within my sphere, is so different from any that could ever have pre- sented itself to your lordship, that it is impossible you could make much allowance for my feelings. But I do not

WIltlAM SAMPSON. £09

despair that in time your lordship may acknowledge, that I have been too harshly judged.

It was much to be wished, that the important act which succeeded to the troubles in Ireland, had closed all her wounds. And yet, though I presume not to dictate, it is for government to judge, whether it might not be good policy to suffer such as love their country and are not dis- respected in it, to return in freedom to it. For my part, the frankness I have always used, even where disguise might have been justifiable, is the best guarantee, that had I intentions injurious to government, I should not proceed by asking any favor, it is my duty to suppose all motives of personal vengeance beneath the dignity of his majesty's ministers, in whose hands arc affairs of so very different moment. And in that view I have no doubt that the re- quest I am about to make will be complied with, as I have every conviction that it ought.

Having formed the design of quitting Europe, where during its present agitations I can call no country mine, it becomes of urgent necessity that I should conduct my family home; the more so, as my son's health has ren- dered his native air indispensible. I must also ascertain the means of my future subsistence. For under whatever embarrassment my voluntary exile to Portugal might have laid me, the forceable deportation from thence to France, and the extraordinary penalties enacted against me in my absence must, your lordship can conceive, have consider- ably augmented them. It is now seven weeks since Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resident at Hamburg, had the goodness to charge himself with an application on my behalf to this effect: but he has received no answer, and as the bad season advances, I shall request to know

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your lordship's determination as early as possible; and that you will have the goodness to transmit to that gentle- man your lordship's answer, and the passport or permis- sion which may be necessary for my safety; by which your lordship will confer a very great obligation. My Lord,

Your Lordship- s Most obedient humble servant,

William Sampson.

To this there was no other answer than a letter from Mr. King, the under secretary of state, to Mr. Thornton. All that I could gather was, that my expressions had not been pleasing, and were not marked with sufficient contri- tion. It does not however require more than this, in any transaction, to shew when there is good intention or good heart. I had gone as low in humility as I could bring myself to go. Was I an injured man, or was I not? One would suppose that that was the principal question; or if not that, whether it was more wise to drop such unworthy persecutions, or to keep them alive to rankle in the hearts of an aggrieved people. Such would be the counsel of gen- erosity or of wisdom. For if a man be injured, and knows and feels it, you only add to his injuries, by extorting false protestations from him, which must aggravate his feelings or wound his honor. If there be any danger in admitting him to be a citizen of his own country, it is. doubled by forcing him to be insincere, and consequently treacherous. It is said by some that governments should never acknowledge any wrong. Is it necessary also that they should never do any right?

Finding now that both my friends and I had been mis

WILLIAM SAMPSOJf. £11

taken in supposing that any more humane or wiser policy had been adopted, I let the matter rest until the spring of the next year. During this time I had received several advices from my friends, in which it was stated, that all such matters were left to the entire disposal of lord Castlc- reagh, and that without his concurrence it was impossible to succeed. And I was strongly urged to address my- self at once to him; and as all my wrongs had originated in his warrant of arrestation, that he might perhaps have been willing to wipe away the sense of that injury by a well-timed act of justice. It was laying a trap for his gen- erosity, but it was not to be caught. However, he had at least the good manners to answer me. His letter bears date, as you will see, the day on which Mr. Pitt died, (Jan. 24, 1806.)

To

The Right Honorable

Lord Viscount Castlereagh *

Hamburgh, December 31, 1805.

My Lord

i

In the beginning of last summer I left Paris to conduct my wife and children to their native country; and in the month of September I made, through the medium of Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resi- dent here, a request to my lord Hawkesbury to be permit- ted to accompany them, in order to arrange my affairs previous to my intended departure for America. It was hoped, as well by my friends as myself, that the govern- ment would not have refused an indulgence consistent at

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once with humanity and policy. And that eight years of exile, with a conduct above all blame, would have been a sufficient expiation, whatever demerit I might have had in their eyes. And I was informed that his lordship had transmitted my request to the Irish government.

I have also understood, that in such a case, your lord- ship would be materially consulted, and your interference* at all events, conclusive. In an affair so important to my family, I find it my duty to address myself directly to your lordship, to whom it would be useless to repeat fur- ther circumstances. If I recollect well, the law by which I was exiled, a passport from the secretary of state would be sufficient authority. I therefore take the liberty of en- treating a speedy answer, as my stay cannot be long in ihis country, which is entirely uncongenial to the state of iny health.

/ have the honor to be, my Lord, Your Lordship's Most obedient servant,

William Sampson.

answer.

Dotoning-street, January 24, 1806. Sir,

I have to acknowledge your letter of the 31st ultimo, requesting me to obtain permission for you to return to Ireland with your family. I have only in an- swer to say, that it is not in my power to interfere or to de- cide upon the merits of your case. I have however taken an opportunity of transmitting your letter to Mr. Long?

WILLIAM SAMPSON. &15

the chief secretary to the Irish government, to be submit- ted for the consideration of the lord-lieutenant. / am, Sir,

Four most obedient Humble servant,

Castlereagbu Mr. William Samjjson, Hamburgh.

This was the state of things, when ait event surprising to me and to every body took place. That same Charles Fox, whose name had been expunged by the king's own hand from the list of privy counsellors, as mine had been from that of Irish counsellors; for it is fair to compare great things with small: That Charles Fox, whose words had been taken down with a view to his impeach- ment, about the same time that I became "suspected of treasonable practices." This truly great and amiable man, was now, strange to tell, at the head of the cabinet, and apparently first in the council of the king. I must say, that from the impressions of my mind, I was at first at a loss how to believe the fact. I thought it too like wisdom to be real. But when that was put beyond doubt, I could not think that it was done otherwise than as a trick or subterfuge to answer some crooked or temporary purpose. However, when the news came that the whole ministry' was changed; that lord Moira was grand master of the ordinance, and Mr. Ponsonby, high chancellor of Ireland; that Mr. Grattan and Mr. Curran were thought worthy of trust, I no longer doubted that my case would meet with difficulty. At the time that I became "suspected," the Ponsonbys had, I have been told, soldiers billeted on them at free quarters; and they had seceded from the

214 MEMOIRS Off

house of commons as a place too corrupt for an honest man to sit in. Mr. Grattan had been disfranchised by the corporation of the city of Dublin; his picture taken down in Trinity College, and put into the privy-house. The name of a street called from him was, changed, and he was loaded with the grossest obloquy, and often threatened with hanging. I remember some persons examined before a secret committee, touching his intimacy with me; but whether to criminate him by me, or me by him, I do not pretend to say.

Lord Moira had been abused; his tenants massacred, and his town threatened with the flames. Mr. Curran was once so persecuted, that I was reprobated for visiting him; and often urged to change the name of my son, who was called after him, and whose sponser he was. I might say more, but to what purpose? If there was sincerity in man, I might have counted upon the sympathy and friend- ship of these persons. I was very true in the attachment I had formed for them; I looked upon their great talents as ornaments to their country, and wished nor expected no other reward than a return of personal friendship. In- deed my own independence has ever been the jewel of my soul; that I have preserved, and will preserve ^whilst I have life. Will any of these important characters say that they were at one time more favored by the peep-of-day-boys than I was? No! the difference was only this: When I was suspected, I was not in parliament; when they were ob- noxious, they were. And the suspension of the habeas cor- pus had respect to that sacred office: "Les loups lie se inaugent pas," says the French proverb. The wolves dont eat each other; and as members of parliament they were safe. But tins I call heaven to witness, that the

WIIXIAM SAMPSON 215

proudest of them never acted towards his country with sen- timents more holy than I have, and I am sure they know it. Enough of this at present. Another time I may corao back upon this subject; and if I can at the saiue time do these great men honor, and do myself justice, it will be a happy task for me. I shall now give you the copies of the letters I respectively addressed to them, and that will ad- vance me considerably towards the conclusion of my story, and put you in possession of my every action, and of every feeling of my heart.

To The Right Honorable

The Earl of Moira,

Sfc. $'c. <Sfc,

Hamburg, February 14, 1806. My Lord,

I hope it will not be disagreeable to your lordship, that I take the liberty of offering my compli- ments upon the occasion of your lordship, with so many other distinguished persons, being called into that situation which may give your country the full benefit of your talents and high reputation.

Your lordship will perhaps do mc the honor to recollect with how much zeal I laboured to be in some degree useful to your generous efforts in the Irish parliament, in the year 1797. Since that time I have lived chiefly in prison or in exile. It would be too long, when your lordship must have so many important avocations, to detail all I have suffered since that time; b,ut I pledge myself boldly.

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that the friendship which you then favored me with, and which your lordship may have forgotten, but I have not, will seem still more merited, when you shall be fully ac- quainted with the conduct I have opposed to the most un- just treatment.

In the month of May last, I left Paris to conduct my family home, and to arrange my affairs previously to my quitting Europe for the rest of my life, and settling myself in America. In the month of July, I addressed to lord Ilawkesbury a request to be permitted to pass over for that purpose, which I was informed through his majesty's minister here, had been transmitted to the Irish govern- ment. But I was also informed by some of my friends, that the person upon whose influence that condescension depended, was lord Castlereagh. Yielding to their coun- sel, I wi'ote to him in December last, but received no an- swer until a few days ago, that his lordship by a letter dated the 24th of January, informed me that he had forwarded my letter to Mr. Long, the chief secretary, but he could not interfere. I hope, my lord, that when I fe- licitate my country upon the auspicious call of your lord- ship to the immediate councils of his majesty, I may ven- ture to felicitate myself upon the speedy attainment of a request so little unreasonable, and which my family affairs render most urgent. I am satisfied that a passport from the secretary of state in England would answer the inten- tion of the act of banishment, in which I was included, and be sufficient authority for my return; trusting that, under your lordship's protection, if any thing else should afterwards be thought necessary, it would be obtained. The tedious delay in this place has been very unfavorable to my health, and very vexatious to me; and I hope

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 21

a

this will excuse me for pressing for a speedy answer, I should have written to Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Grattan, both of whom have witnessed how disinterestedly I have, in critical times, labored to prevent mischief and to do good; but I am uncertain whether they may not be called by their respective offices to Ireland.

I shall beg, that your lordship would have the goodness

to make my humble respects agreeable to the ladies of

your lordship's family, and to let me have the satisfaction

#f owing this kindness to those only whom I most esteem,

J have the honor to be,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's Most obliged humble servant,

William Sampson.

To The Right Honorable Henry Grattan*

Hamburg, Valentine's Kamp, JVo. 161* February 18, 1806. My dear Sir,, ■

I have by this courier the honor of writing to Mr. Geo. Ponsonby, to request his interest in procuring a speedy and favorable answer to an application of mine, which has been already referred to the Irish gov- ernment, requesting permission to conduct my family home, to establish them and settle my affairs, previous to my going to America. May I request that you will have

Dd

218 MEMOIRS 01?

the goodnc^ i - oanfer with him on this subject, and join 3 oi!] efforts to In , that I may have a speedy answer, as my health has suffered much in this country, where i have been delayed since the beginning of last summer. I have also written to my lord Moira on the same subject, by the preceding courier. I was in hopes of seeing your name officially announced as chancellor of the Irish exchequer. Wfcre I to trust to the news-papers which I have seen this day, I should suppose that you had refused that place. I must still flatter myself with the expectation of being soon permitted to pay my compliments to you on your ac- ceptance of that or some other station, in which your tal- ents and upright intentions may be once more beneficial to your country,

/ am, my dear Sir,

With the highest respect,

Your faithful humble serxnini,

"William Sampson*

To

The Right Honorable Geo. Ponsonhy.

Hamburg, Valentine's Kamp, M. 16i,

February 18, 1806. Jly dear Sir,

In the beginning of last summer, I left Paris with my family, my design being to ask permission, when I should arrive at Hamburg, to accompany them to their native country, in order to settle my affairs, and

•&i&.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 219

from thence go to America, where I shall in all proba- bility spend the remainder of my days.

In the month of July I made an application, through Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resident here; and he having no answer, I wrote on the first of September, by the same channel to lord Hawkesbury. The only answer I had was through Mi*. King to Mr. Thornton, that my request was to be referred to the Irish government. Not however hearing further, and following the advice of some friends, I wrote in the latter end of December to lord Castlereagh, whose influence, I was told, was decisive. On the 24th of January, his lordship acknowledged my letter, declined interfering, but added, that he had taken an occasion of forwarding my letter to Mr. Long, the chief secretrry to the Irish government.

Whilst I have the satisfaction to congratulate ray coun- try on the accession to the confidence of those who, I am convinced, will make their power the instrument only of good, and to whom my actions and intentions being better known will be more fairly judged, I trust that those de- lays which have already put me to very cruel inconven- ience, will now cease, and that I shall have, before I leave my country for the last time, the pleasure of return- ing my thanks in person, and renewing the expressions of those sentiments with which I have never ceased to be, My dear Sir,

Tour faithful and obedient servant,

William Sampson.

From the time these letters were written, until the latter end of March, I remained, without taking any step, in a state of suspense and anxiety. To go from that to Anie-

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rica, arid leave my family in a strange country, under all the circumstances, was a painful slep to take. Not to re* ccive even an answer from those whose friendship I thought due to me, was vexatious enough. My affairs were not arranged for an emigration for life; in short, my ene- mies had a very good opportunity of glutting their malicej for I was surrounded with their spies, of whom they have numbers every where, but more and more mis- chievous ones in Hamburg than in most places.

A circumstance now occurs to me, which I shall impart, from the desire I have to lay my whole conduct and pro- ceedings open to your view.

An election took place for members of parliament in the latter end of the summer of 1805. I was then at Altona. I do not exactly recollect the date-, nor is it worth while to torment myfelf in searching for it. I have not time to bestow upon useless minutiae, or difficies nugae. It was* however, some time before my friends came into power, that I wrote to a gentleman nearly connected with me, pointing out to him, that perhaps this occurrence might afford an opportunity of buying my liberty. You know, and every body knows, how elections are carried on in England, and still more in Ireland. How one buyer will bid above another, as at an auction, and as in the days of the Saturnalia, the slaves are set free, so here were the days of the Irish Saturnalia come round. I suggested in this letter, that in a competition of this kind, it might be possible to use the combined interests of my friends, as it was matter of perfect indifference in a political or con- scientious view, which of two courtiers should represent ihe people

An honest bargain might be struck: and I truly*" did

WIELIAM SAMPSON. &§,\

think, that if Irish votes for members of an English par- liament could be sold to redeem an Irishman who had suf* fered for his country, it was the most legitimate of all parliamentary traffics. I assured him of my firm belief, that no person, who persecuted me, did it because he thought me a bad man; but seeing the favors heaped upon notori- ous miscreants, that my crime was probably no other than that of being too honest; and that the onlyjinesse necessary* was to disguise that a little. I hogged, therefore* of such friends as loved me, if they saw the thing as I did, to co- operate in my ransom* by giving their votes to the side that could stipulate for it. This letter was swindled from me in Hamburg, and never went to its destination, but is now, as I have good reason to think, in the hands of some of the state-secretaries.

If this sentiment should appear Extraordinary to you, still would that which many Irishmen hold, that in the present state of our disgrace (opposition being vain) the best choice would be that of the worst men, in order that there might be no delusion jnor imposture, and that the

whole system might be uniform and equal. For they say

"Men put not new cloth into old garments."

But to proceed — In the middle of my anxiety about the next thing I should do, an alarm came that quickened my steps. The Prussian troops were said to be marching by concert with Napoleon into the city. They had some time before occupied the Hamburgese territory at Cuxha- ven. There was a general consternation, and it became urgent with me to decide what I should next do. I was a prisoner of war, but that, though serious enough, was not the worst; for here I could not expect the same conside- ration as in Paris, where I had good and powerful friends.;

3 i MEMOIKS or

and where the higher authorities knew, that whatever my political opinions had been, I bad known how to conduct myself with discretion and without offence. But to be, again a prisoner, to be again obliged to go through a pain- ful course of interrogatories and vouchers, to be again sus- pected, to be perhaps obliged to quit from necessity that line of firm independence which I had hitherto preserved, was a thing to be avoided. And particularly now, when in, an inhospitable country, I might have something to fear from malignity, and nothing to expect from justice; for as I said before, no city was ever more infested than Ham- burg with the little instruments of corruption and intrigue, noxious to society, and sometimes ruinous to those who use them. Little indeed should I have regarded all this had it concerned myself alone; for I am now taught to despise my persecutors, and to bear any thing they can invent; but when I reflected, that for the faithful and inno- cent partner of my life and my misfortunes, there was no chance of any benefit in remaining here; but many of distress, and that for her it was now a matter of necessity to return with her children where she had friends and pro- tection, I was not* you may suppose, much at ease.

I went, therefore, to Mr. Thornton, to know whether he had received any further instructions respecting me. He had not; but he seemed to take a humane concern in my hard situation. He offered to take so much upon himself as to give me a passport to England, and to write imme- diately to Mr. Fox and explain the grounds upon which he had done so.

Now it appeared to me, that if the late ministers, whom I never considered as mv friends, had taken mv case into consideration or submitted, it to the Irh?h government; if

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. £2*5

they had seemed to require no more than some expressions of contrition, there could be no difficulty with the present, for the reasons I have already given. Particularly when at the head of that ministry appeared that exalted and benevolent man, in whose noble and generous heart the vile spirit of persecution never could find a place. I ac-? cordingly accepted the passport, and made instant dis- positions for my departure.

But a fresh difficulty arose. The English vessels were ordered down the river to be under the protection of a British man of war; and the packets were, it was supposed, stopped. I asked Mr. Thornton, if he could not add to the kindness he had shewn me that of procuring a passage on board of some of the king's vessels, as I conceived that at all events his dispatches, and all those of the other min- isters on the continent, must be conveyed. He did net feel that he could promise me that; but there were several merchant-men below, and I determined to take my chance; and at all events, if it was not safe to land with my family at Cuxhaven, to claim hospitality on board a ship. I had given a commission to an agent to find some person to join in the expense of a hoy, and the first person he met with was Mr. Sparrow, one of the king's messengers, who had been at Petersburg and all over the north of Europe as a courier, and happened then to be on his return in great haste with dispatches from the English minister at Vienna. He knew very well upon hearing my name, who I was, and I advised him to ask Mr. Thornton whether he saw anv impropriety in our travelling together. Mr. Thornton could see none, and we set out together. When we came, to Cuxhaven, no packet had arrived, though many were due; and the packet agent knew no more of the matter than

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we did, and probably was thinking how he would have to provide for himself when a new order would come. Ap- plication had been made to the sloop of war to take charge of the messenger and his dispatches. The other passengers in the town were endeavoring each for his own passage, and I with no other vouchers than my passport as a French prisoner of war, and those of lord Castlereagh and the duke of Portland, was very likely to remain, with my wife and two poor infants, as a prize to his Prussian majesty, into whose service the Irish govern- ment had, some years before, transported so many of my miserable countrymen. These unfortunate men were, it is true, about that time released from their strange bondr age; but no one, I believe, can say what has since become of them. A king's cutter had just arrived, and was to return without coming to anchor. We obtained leave to go on board, and set out immediately with Mr. Sparrow and some other gentlemeiie

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 225

LETTE11 XXXI.

EmMrkatiou~-I)angcr~-Journeij to London — Lord Spencer —Once more imprisoned — Mr. Sparrotc— Governor Pi ^ • ton.

WE hired a little boat and embarked in her; but the weather was stormy and the sea ran very high with an in-blowing wind; and it was so cold, though in the month of April, that the spray of the sea froze upon us as it fell. We were close packed in this little boat. I could not move, for my legs were thrust among the baggage, and the children were lying shivering upon me, sick and vomit- ing. When we came along side of the cutter, the boatmen ran their mast foul of her yard, and but for the dexterity of the tars, that were in one moment upon the yard cutting away the rigging that held us, we should have been un« doubtedly upset. The cutter then came to anchor to favor us; but as our rigging was cut and our sail split, we had great difficulty to get on board in the rapid tide, and when we did it was to run fowl again. This latter accident was like to be worse than the former; for we hung by the top of our mast; so that had our boat taken a shear with the current, we must have been swept out of her or sunk. But the activity of these good tars once more saved us, and before we had time to say long prayers they plucked us all on board. For myself I might have escaped, being, as you remember, a first rate swimmer; but I question if any

man would desire to save his life, and see all that were

e e

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dearest to his heart perish in his view. Never in my life, hut in this moment, did I feel the full effect of terror. I once spent two days without meat or drink, or any port to steer for, in a wintry and stormy sea, alone in an open skiff; hut I would rather pass a hundred such, than endure (he sudden pang that now shot across my heart. This was, however, hut a short grief; the officers were kind to its, and Mr. Sparrow gave up his bed and lay on the cahin floor. We did not weigh anchor until next morning, and on the following one we made the English land. Whilst wc were running along the coast in very thick weather, we were hailed by an armed brig, French built, and in the sea phrase, suspicious. Our captain at first hove too; but as she came nearer and looked more and more suspi- cious, this hearty Caledonian ladihj damn'd his eyes if he would stop for her, ordered matches to be lighted, shoved out his little six pounders, and swore he had known a less vessel than his beat a damn'd French ****** twice as big: so all was prepared for an engagement. The brig was ten times as powerful as we, and we had a fair prospect of being blown out of water; and my wife, my children and I, would have had a full share of the glory; but it proved to be a French built privateer, now turned into an English cruiser.

Mr. Sparrow landed at Orford-West and proceeded to London; he promised, as soon as he arrived at the foreign office, to mention that I was on the way with Mr. Thorn- ton's passport, and that my intention was to present my- self immediately on my arrival to Mr. Fox; and with many hearty entreaties engaged me to go and see him at his house, when I should arrive in London: We spent that day and part of the next at Harwich, and next morning

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 227

travelled along as cheerfully as we could, auguring good from our being unmolested at Harwich, and enjoying- the pleasures of the country and the season. We slept one night on the road, and on the third night arrived at Sable niere's hotel in Lei'ster square.

Towards the close of the evening, I walked with my son through a variety of streets, and every one brought to mind some remembrance of the lively scenes of my younger days, different from my present strange situation: I did not want matter for reflection.

We had upon our arrival given our names at the LoteJ, and I had written to Mr. Fox that I was arrived and waited his commands. Still nobody seemed to mind us. But as this living on sufferance was not my object, I went the next morning to the foreign office, and was told that Mr. Fox was not then to be seen; but that I might return, and an hour was given me. I returned accordingly, cer- tain that if the matter depended upon him I should have no difficulty, but was told that Mr. Fox was gone to the queen's levy.

I then went to Mr. Sparrow's, and begged of him to shew me the office of Lord Spencer in Whitehall. He conducted me there, and after waiting some time I was admitted. His lordship was standing with his back to the fire, and at his right hand stood the under secretary.

He was then in mourning for his sister, the duchess cf Devonshire. I had sometimes seen that charming woman in the height of her beauty, and remembering her lovely countenance, expected to have seen something of a resem- blance in her brother. But not in the least; I saw no beauty in him, but a very cross face.. I had never been

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favored with so near a view of his lordship before, and if I never should again, I shall not grieve.

I had dressed myself in full black, and put buckles in lnv shoes, in order to do awav the idea of a sansculotte, and I made my bow the best I could in the English fashion, rather stiff, to shew that I was not a Frenchman. But I had not time to raise myself erect again, until the first shot went off; and he asked me, in a stern voice, if I knew what penalties I had incurred by coming over to England? Now, sir, I found I had to do with the first lord of the admiralty in good sooth, and that I must stand by for an overhauling. And though I am a pretty steady hand, yet I could not hinder this shot to carry away my topping- lifts and lee-braces; so I was all in the wind. I knew that let the lamb bleat or not, the wolf will eat him all the same. So I began a fair discourse, still holding out my olive-branch.

I said, that if I was not afraid of any penalties, it was because I had committed no crimes. I rather flattered myself that the circumstances under which I came, entitled me to some partiality; and that quitting a position where, had I only declared myself an enemy, I might have met with favor, in order to throw myself into the hands of an administration in which I had put confidence, was to have taken too good a ground to have any cause of fear. That I had not come rashly; that I knew that the late adminis- tration had taken my case into consideration and had not yet given any decision; that therefore there was but one of two things, either to anticipate a fair and honorable de- cision, or to remain an enemy, or at best a prisoner of war, and be deprived of any benefit from a just decision when it should arrive; and lastly, that I had a passport

WILLIAM SAMFSOKT. > 229

of the English minister, to whose authority alone I could look in a foreign country; and that not granted, hut upon full knowledge of my case and of the exigency of the moment. That at all events, what I wanted was not a fa- vor very difficult to grant, namely, to conduct my family to a place of safety and repose, until I should go and seek out for a new home and a new country. His lordship an- swered, that Mr. Thornton had no right to grant me a passport; but admitted, "that the confusion they were in in Hamburg, might be some excuse for my coming over." He said, something sharply, that he knew all my conduct, and all I had spoken and written, and that he could not dispense with the law. I must go back or go wherever I chose, but that he could not let me stay a moment longer there; and he did not care where I went.

I began now to be satisfied, that nothing was to be gained, and I only thought of getting through a disagree- able business as well as 1 could and as speedily; and I observed, that as I found it was useless to say any more, it rested now witli him.

You talked of going to America, said his lordship. I answered that I had; particularly when I found so much difficulty in getting leave to go home, as to persuade me that I should have neither pleasure nor security in remain- ing there. And as there were few countries in Europe not now at war with England and, such as were not, uninhab- itable for me, I had no other choice. I might have some- times flattered myself that time and circumstances had altered the state of things in Ireland; but from what fell from his lordship I feared it was not so. You shall go then, said he, to America; and I made no objection, othej?

250 memoius or

than to insist a little upon the hardship of hcing forced from my family so suddenly, unprepared.

The under secretary then reminded him, that I should not be allowed to go without a messenger; and he said he could not let me have the liberty of going about, unless I had some one that would answer for me. I replied, that I had been now so long abroad, that I did not know who to call upon on the instant; that London had never been my residence since the time of my studies, which was many years ago; that I supposed it might be necessary to find a person at once a friend to me, and known to his lord- 5] •; that I doubted not, in a short time, were I at liberty, t< ble to offer the very best sureties; but that if I was

a isoner of state, terror might hinder my friends from coming near me. I however mentioned, that his lordship's colleague in the ministry and in council, the earl of Moira, kn v me; that Mr. Geo. Ponsonby (now lord Ponsonby) knew me, and that Mr. Grattan knew me.

Lord Moira, says his lordship, is out of town; lord Pon- sonby is chancellor in Ireland. Will Mr. Grattan an- swer for you? The suggestions of the imagination are very prompt; and the manner in which lord Spencer ask- ed this question inclined me to believe, that he already knew what Mr. Grattan would do, but wished to hear what I would say.

I said, without the least hesitation, that I could not answer for Mr. Grattan, nor for any man, after such a lapse of time, and surrounded as I was by the terrors of an angry government; that there was no obligation cer- tainly on Mr. Grattan to answer for me, and his opinions might he changed even without any fault of mine, for the

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 231

absent are always in the wrong; but that if I was at liberty I should ask him.

Lord Spencer then said, he must commit me. I begged of him, that whatever sentiments he might entertain to- wards me, he would consider the feelings of a wife, whose virtues and whose sufferings deserved respect; and that whatever was to take place'might pass in a way least shocking to her. And fwling how soon another pang was to be added to those she had already suffered; how much her heart was set upon the hope of having me once more at home with her, and the cruel disappointment she was to suffer — I spoke these last words with emotion. In this his lordship however did not very graciously partake, but said in a peevish tone "ft at was all very jine" and then went behind his table to write my committal. I remem- ber another of his answers was, that "he was not going to argue law with me."

The under secretary now observed to me, that I was irritating his lordship, and conducted me out towards the messenger's room. My fellow-traveller, Sparrow, was much dejected at seeing the course this affair had taken. I sent in a request, that I might be rather committed to his care than to any other of the messengers, as my wife, from her acquaintance with him, would be less alarmed. This was perhaps before intended, and I returned with him a prisoner to his house. He sent two of his daughters, in a very delicate manner, to invite Mrs. Sampson to pay her bill at the hotel, and to come and join me. She readily understood the hint, and we were now once more prison- companions, which had not happened for eight or nine years before. However, it might be said, that in that time our fortune was mended; for instead of that execrable

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bridewell* where we were in the year 1798, we were now in a genteel, well-furnished apartment; and Mrs. Sparrow, like a good hostess, with a fine family of children, vying with each other which should do us the most kindness. If the French proverb, "II n'y a point de belles prisons, ni dc laides amours" was not too strictly true, this might he called a pretty prison.

Mr. Sparrow, in doing the honors of it, mentioned that his last guest had been governor Ficton, who was then out on bail, and has continued to get free of all charges by means which I have not learned.

Strange coincidence of circumstances; there is a moral in every thing. Here was a man who was convicted by an English jury, of the wanton torture of a young female, in a manner too shocking to be repeated, enjoying his liberty and his ease, and laughing at justice. A man who, if we can believe Col. Fullerton, was charged with nine and twenty deliberate murders; who had disgraced the English name, by first introducing the crime of torture into a Spanish colony, where torture had never been known. He was protected, if not indemnified, whilst I, whose crime was to have rebelled against torture, was shut up, doomed to per* petual exile, torn from my family, betrayed, surrounded with terror, and overwhelmed with obloquy!

It was signified to me, that I must set off for Falmouth the following morning. I must bid perhaps an eternal adieu to those by whom my heart was chieflly linked, to a miserable world. I wanted time; I wanted preparation of every kind. I entreated just so much time as might serve to have an interview with one or two unsuspected friends. I asked merely to wait until my wife's brother, who was hastening over, might arrive, and receive her from my

WlILIAM SAMPSON. 233

■

hands. As he was also our agent, I had strong reasons of interest for desiring to see him, and I asked for nothing more; and then was ready to depart for ever. All this was refused; and so great was the hurry to send me out of London that, after spending five days on the road, I had near a fortnight to remain at Falmouth before the regular sailing of the packet. I wrote about this time to Mr. Fox,, as follows:

To The Right Honorable Charles James Fox, <§*c. 8{ct

Doxvning-Street, April 21, 18tl6.

Sir,

As this is the last application with which I

shall trouble government, I hope it will be received with indulgence. I scarcely can state the hardship I have suffered, without appearing to recriminate. At no time have I ever been tried, examined or questioned or, to my knowledge ever specifically accused. I did, it is true, en* ter into an agreement to expatriate myself; but I solemnly assert, that my motive was not any personal apprehension, but the desire of restoring peace and saving bloodshed in my country. That agreement has been interpreted and executed too much in the spirit of the times when it was made. When in fulfilment of it I went to Portugal, I was again put in prison, and against my will transported vio- lently into France. The minister then resident in Portu- gal knows this fact. It is not necessary to say, I have committed no faults. If I had, they have been secretly atoned for. But I have no other crimes to answer for, than those of a heart too warm, and feeling for the misfor.

Ff

i234 MEMOIRS OF

tunes of others. And with respect to treason, no man's actions ever gave a stronger denial to that charge. Yet when conciliation is held out to all, I am excluded. My case is said to have heen investigated, though it is im- possible to know it but from myself; and my forbearance to give it publicity, for which I should have credit, turns to i>iv> disadvantage. I had hoped that all justification of myself might have been rendered unnecessary by the indul- gence with which I should have been received, so that I might have deposited my wrongs upon the altar of con- ciliation.

One felony I have committed, and one only. I have left an enemy's country, and with the passport of a British minister. Conscious of my own honor, and relying upon an administration on which the public relied for the repa- ration of many evils, I have thrown myself upon its justice. Of this crime I now stand charged. For this I am to com- mence a new exile, and to finish my days far from my na- tive country, from those to whom I am united, and to whom I have given existence, without the time to make one necessary preparation for such a separation.

You, sir, whose mind is as the source of candor and true wisdom, will feel what is best in such a case. Length or repetition is useless with you: I fear to have been al- ready too prolix.

I have the honor to be, Sir, With the highest respect.

Your faithful humble servant,

William Sampson.

My wife, in the agony of her distress, wrote to him also, and to several others. She never had an answer,

i

WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 23 5

save from Mr. Fox, so great was the terror that hung round us; hut that noble, generous man, sinking under the weight of heavy infirmities, and oppressed with affairs to which man's strength was not equal, found time to reply to the voice of an afflicted woman. He strongly interfered in my behalf. My cause was said, by the news-papers, to have occupied the deliberations of the privy-council. I have been told, from great authority, that he who stands next to royal majesty, did interpose. But the peep-of-day- boys had seized upon the conscience of the king, and ban- ished mercy.

I had sent a letter to Mr. Grattan, which was put into his hands in the house of commons. He never answered it; but I was willing to excuse this neglect. The terror of a peep-of -day -boy-government, for it was evidently one part Fox and three parts peep-of-day-boy, might have im- posed upon him the necessity of apparent incivility and unkindness. But I shall say more of him, if time permits, before this narrative is closed, and shall then explain the meaning of a peep-qf-day -government; a subject however that would deserve more time than I can give it.

By the interference of various friends, my departure was delayed until the latter end of April, and I was per- mitted to see such friends as chose to come to sec me, Mr. Sparrow having orders to take down their names and their abode. Every one made me generous offers of pe- cuniary service, and of any other I might require. I had some time before lost an amiable and beloved sister; her excellent husband, then inconsolable for her loss, came from Portsmouth to visit me. But the heavy affliction that hung over him, only served to add weight to my own cares. I was able, nevertheless* to keep that cheerfulness

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of temper which is the reward of a conscience void of reproach, until the moment of bidding adieu, and that mo- ment never will be lost to my remembrance.

Mr. Sparrow and his family withdrew, from delicacy, and left us to ourselves. We involuntarily grouped to. gether in a circle. My wife and I stood opposite each other; our two children, tears in their little eyes, filled the interval, and beld a hand of each looking at one and the other in sorrowful anxietv. We bound each other by the tenderest engagements to cheerful resignation, and made it the mutual condition of our future love. But I saw in the eyes of this best of women, that she had little hopes of seeing me again. And indeed, so infirm was ■uy health, there was but little. Those who know the state in whicli I arrived at New- York, and the cruel sick- ness I have since endured, will readily believe me.

I was sent down in a post-chaise with Mr. Sparrow; and in consideration of my health was allowed to repose every night. My expense was defrayed by the govern- ment, and I had certainly nothing to complain of in respect to the treatment I received. I dined and spent one evening in a genteel private family, of the acquaintance of my guide, and arrived on the fifth day at Falmouth.

The onlv thins that I can recollect worth notice on the road, was a drove of miserable looking people, whom we met walking bare-footed along, and limping with sore- ness and fatigue. There were men, women and children; both men and women had children on their backs, and were leading others by the hand. I thought that perhaps they were minors, as we were then, if I recollect, in Cornwall, but they proved to be of that race which the unfeeling 'all the laxy Irish, who were travelling in search of la-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. &3T

bor and drudgery, in hopes, at the end of their hard cam- paign, to be able to carry home wherewithal to pay their tythes, tJieir taxes and their rent.

We met some sailors also, who had been with a whaler to London. It was a ship that had been three years on a South Sea voyage. The hands were all impressed in sight of their native land, where they had hoped, perhaps, to pour their hard-earned wages into the lap of a joyful wife; might they not, like me, have children, whose inno- cent smiles were their delight? Had they not human feel- ings? And though their hands were hard with labor, their hearts might be more tender than those they were to serve. Where is human justice to he found? These unhappy men were not even suspected, and yet their punishment waa worse than that of malefactors.

I lived, as I said, near a fortnight in Falmouth, waiting for the packet. Lord Spencer, the easier to get rid of me, had sent me at the government expense; and I had received a letter, informing me from him, that my conveyance to America was to be defrayed. I therefore had made no provision. But finding that neither the packet agent nor the collector, Mr. Pelew, to whom I was consigned, had any orders, I thought it necessary to write on that head. And as I had come into England with views of peace, so I was determined to leave it. I made up my mind to see every thing in the fairest light, and to avoid every senti- ment of resentment that could at best serve to ruffle my own mind and injure my health and happiness. I per- suaded myself that lord Spencer had not meant unkindly, and at all events I owed him the same gratitude that the crane owed to the fox, who had his head in his mouth and did not bite it off: I therefore mentioned to him, that al-

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though I could not Conceive why the government should have thought it necessary to proceed so harshly, yet that i was sensible of the handsome manner in which I had been so far conveyed, and hoped it would continue to the end of my voyage. I shall presently state to you with caudor, how far it did and how far it did not.

I was so far indulged during my stay in Falmouth, as to be allowed to walk with my conductor through the fields, along the rocks, or w herever fancy led. And besides that, the inhabitants of this little town had a certain character of benevolence, that it is remarkable for the simple rustic hr raity of its women, there was a circumstance which gave it still more interest in my imagination; for nearly twenty years ago, when full of the ardor of youth, I was proceed- ing on my first voyage to America, by invitation of my uncle, colonel Sampson, to inherit a pretty rich estate which he possessed in that county 6f North- Carolina, which still bears his name, and was put, by adverse winds, into this very port. During several weeks that I was detained, my delight had been to explore the wild beauties of the country. It was in one of my excursions through the same grounds that my imagination, com- paring the present with the past, seemed to have caught its former tone of youth, and I meditated a few Stanzas, which I committed with my pencil to writing, as opportu- nity served. I say the tone of youth, because such trifling belongs only of right to that season of life. And whatever little talent I might once have had for versifying, I have since my maturer years, considered the twisting of word? as a frivolous pastime. But every thing was now legiti- mate that could amuse or dissipate.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 239

HOPE AND THE EXILE.

A VISION.

IN the far verge of Britain's isle,

Captive, on a rocky steep, I laid me down, and mus'd the while,

Gazing o'er the silent deep.

Behind me lay that Iron land,

Where tyrants hold their gloomy sway; Oppos'd was Gallia's glittering strand,

Where despots smile, and slaves look gay.

Westward stretch'd the wat'ry waste. That washes the Columbian shore;

And there, an emerald enchas'd

That isle I'm doom'd to see no more.

Farewell, ye scenes of smiling youth, Where memory delights to rove;

Farewell, ye friends, allied by truth, By worth, by honor, to my love.

With winds of air, the ardent steed Darts from the goal — is lost to sight;

More rapid is the arrow's speed, That can arrest the lapwing's flight.

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Swifter is sound to wound the ear;

Yet where the angry bullet flics, Long- e'er the slow report draws near,

Fate's work is sped — the victim dies.

But courser, arrow from the bow, The unseen ball, nor beam of light,

Shot from the star of day, can go So quick as magic fancy's flight.

The winds their hollow caverns rend, The swelling waters burst their bounds;

And fire for freedom will contend

Against the weight of earthly mounds.

Yet all these elements combin'd

To rack the globe, have no such force,.

As the free quality of mind,

From corp'ral bondage to divorce.

And I, in momentary trance,

With fancy's raptur-'d eye could see

More in tlfe compass of one glance, Than in whole years when I was free.

For all at once, before mine eye, A fancy form there did appear;

But whether issuing from the sky, The earth, or sea, it was not clear.

With graceful step I saw her move;

I felt her charms my heart beguile; Soft as the breathing lute of love

Her voice; like the young morn her smile-

WH.1IAM SAMPSON. 241

"Twas not that smile of venom'd dart, Whose power above all soft controul,

Still wounds most deep the teuderest heart. And kindles trouble in the soul.

She was not love and beauty's queen,

But sister like, so fair, so bright; Less fire might in her eyes be seen,

But nothing less of beamy light.

Those Seraph eyes she fix'd on mine,

As she would read them thro' and thro*;

Yet was their aspect so benign,

That I could dwell upon their view.

Is hopeless love, she said, thy care That here all silent and alone,

Thou seem'st to woo the vagrant air And to th' unpitying waters moan?

•3

Or by the ruthless hand of fate,

Some friend or kindred hast thou lost,

Or been by destiny of late, In fortune, or in honor, cross'd?

Those days, bright nymph! are past and gonr, When I with love's hot flame did burn;

Long I have love's soft empire known, But happy love, and kind return.

And friends and kindred tho' I've lost, Whom my sad heart must ever mourn;

Yet not for them, nor fortunes cross'd. Here am I silent and forlorn.

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Some foul ingratitude has then, The current of thy spirits mov'd;

For nothing grieves the souls of men Like base return from those they lov'd.

Or else some lingering disease, Within thy frame deep-rooted lies:

A vulture on the heart that preys, Dire source of never ending sighs.

Ingratitude at times, to own, Must he the fate of al! that live;

Tet friends of thrice tri'd faith I've known: The false I pity and forgive.

And though the hand of mortal pain Bows me beneath its wasting grief;

Ne'er vet in lamentations vain. Nor idle plaints, I sought relief.

Then for some dark and hidden crime. Of which thy soul doth now relent;

Thou hast been stricken in thy prime, And doom'd to sorrow and repent!

Oh thou, than spring-time flowers more fair;

More beauteous than the rosy morn; Whose breath embalms the circling air,

Why waste that breath] inj words of scorn?

And were I stain'd with crimes so fell, As silent thought could not endure.

What power, deep art, or magic spell, Hadst thou the sting of guilt to cure*

WILLIAM SAMPSOK. 243

Mine is that power, that magic spell,

To cheat the wretched of his pain; The guilty from the verge of hell,

To raise to heaven and light again.

Then hie thee to those men of hlood,

Whose crimes my innocence attest; Go, bid them seek their country's good.

And in that virtue yet be blest.

Say, in the verge of Britain's isle,

A captive on a rocky steep, Did lay him down, and muse the while,

Gazing o'er the sullen deep.

Who would not change one lonely hour

Of melancholy rapture there, For all their ill-got wealth and power,

Their abject thoughts, their guilty care.

And now I know thee, nymph, full sure,

For as when watery vapours rise, Which heaven's pure azure did obscure,

And dimm'd the beauties of the skies.

So memory, which long had lain

Envelop'd in oblivious cloud, Withdraws her misty veil again,

HOPE'S new-born image to unshroud.

it is even now the twentieth year,

Since watching for a favoring gale, This cliff I sought — thou didst appear,

And cheat me with a flattering tale.

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Oh! 'twas a vision, fair and bright, A dream my youthful sense that stole,

Thro' fields of glory, paths of light, And joys that thrill'd upon the soid.

Oh! 'twas a vision, wildly sweet,

My brows with bays and myrtle crown'd;

Gay flow'rets springing at my feet, And loves and graces dancing round.

Oh! 'twas a sweet bewildering dream, To see chaste Pho&be's silvery light;

Dance to the murmurs of the stream, That winds round Hemus'\ shadowey height.

But it was false, as thou art fail*,

And thou art false, as it was vain; • io, mimic form, light thing of air,

Nor tempt me with thy smiles again.

True on this sea-worn point of land,

I often rest, and often here, To the poor sailor wave my wand,

And bid him sing of gallant cheer.

\nd when the swelling canvas flows,

And floats upon the wanton wind; Bid him, to foreign climes that goes,

To trust in those he left behind.

And, thankless man, hast thou forgot,

How often in thy loneliest hours; Fair flower;/ wreaths for thee I've wrought,

And wrai/d thee in elysian bowers.

t A mountain of Thrace, sacred to Apollo and the Muses.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 245

When tlwe rude wave, and wint'ry blast

Of mortal dangers made their sport, Have I not sat upon the mast,

To waft thee to a friendly port?

When deep, sequester'd and forlorn, And buried in the dungeon's gloom,

Have I not taught thy soul to scorn TV assassin's steel, the tyrant's doom?

And when with sickness, worn and wan, Death's ugly terrors thou couldst brave,

'Twas I, when earthly joys were gone, That shew'd thee life beyond the grave.

Spirit of comfort! now I see

Thou still art kind; and from this hour

I swear for evermore to be

The willing vassal of thy power!

Say then but this; shall yon green isle,

Which dearer is than life to me, Be ever bless'd with fortune's smile,

Be ever happy, ever free?

Those words I spake with downcast eyes,

Fearing to hear what she might say, I rais'd them up, and to the skies

The fairy phantom wing'd her way.

Thus may you see how pliable and versatile is the human mind. How many sources of consolation the Creator lias bestowed, were men but wise enough to seek them. And I. can assure you, with truth, that often, during my long

C-*'J ME MOi;;- of

exile, retiring wit7ii;i myself, in the gloom of solitude orfn the silence of the night, I have passed some of the most delicious moments of my existence; so strong a shield against misfortune is an unsullcd conscience. As at this time there was nothing in the personal treatment I receiv- ed that had any tendency to sour me; so I encouraged every agreeable idea that presented itself. I had several instruments of music, and I had a port-folio, with some implements for drawing; and in Falmouth I made a portrait of my guardian in Crayon, with his greyhound (the badge of his office) which at the same time served as an occupation for me, and a compliment in return for his civilities. He had it framed on his return, and hung up in his parlour.

It has heen said hy the first of poets, "Seldom has the steel" d gaoler heen the friend of man." But here was one, however strict in the execution of his office, who had a tender heart. He once, with tears in his eyes, hegged of me to accept from him a hundred pounds, which he laid down before me; and in order to refuse, without wounding him, I was obliged to assure him that I was nearly as rich as himself; and reminded him, that in the mean time that the- government was good enough to treat us both, and applied the words of the poet:

"He that doth the ravens feed,

Doth cater for the sparrow and the dove."

My wife continued to lodge with Mrs. Sparrow until her leaving London, long after I had sailed; so much reason had she to be contented with her entertainment.

On the 12th of May, I was conducted on board the Windsor Castle packet, and set sail with a fair wind for the city <-.r New-York.

WIIXIAM SAMPSOX. 247

The society of a fellow-passenger, captain Davy, of the 39th regiment, and the politeness of captain Sutton, of which I cannot say too much, rendered the former part of the voyage agreeable; but during the latter part the weather was bad, and my health began again to decline. During the few days we staid at Halifax, I was forbid- den to go on shore, which mortified my curiosity more than my pride, and I suppose was intended as a mortifica- tion; for the most narrow suspicion or contemptible jeal- ousy could scarcely imagine any mischief I could do, were I ever so inclined.

On the 4th of July, a day ever memorable in the annals of America, I arrived in the waters of the Hudson, but I did not reach the city until most of its inhabitants had re- tired to rest. And now that my travels are at an end, that I am at length arrived in a land of peace and liberty, let us for awhile repose.

I shall shortly take up my pen again, to give such an- swer as I can to that serious question, "the true causes of the wretchedness and troubles in Ireland;" but not with- out the disquieting apprehension, that those troubles and that wretchedness may be revived, even whilst my pen runs on. The view I shall take of this mournful subject shall be rapid, for the time I have to bestow upon it is short. I shall attempt nothing but the outlines and principal re- sults. If they should awake your soul to sympathy, and stimulate your curiosity to further enquiry, they will have answered a good end. If they can reclaim you or any good man from delusion, on a subject at this juncture infi- nitely important, and eminently connected with the welfare of the human race, I shall not have written in vain. If I should once prevail so fer, I shall then earnestly recom-

218 MEMOIRS O*

mend to your perusal the work of Mr. Plowden, which, however undigested, and perhaps faulty in point of in- duction, is yet, considering the short time in which it was compiled, and the many disadvantages of writing such a history, a monument of everlasting honor to the abilities and integrity of its author.

LETTER XXXII.

Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — A brief Rcxiew of Irish

History.

IN what manner to treat this subject; how to wade through oceans of iniquity and bloodshed; how to relate the long uninterrupted calamities of the most oppressed of nations; if there be any way of passing over this without sinking the mind into the gloom of tragedy, let us seek it; for my heart has already bled enough. Let us rather travel lightly over the vantage grounds of this history than descend into the dismal vale of death!

Perhaps, if the feelings of generous indignation could be so far subdued, the most beneficial moral that could be extracted from the Anglo-Irish tyranny, would be its ab- surdity. There are men of ambition so depraved, who would rejoice to be called wicked, if with that they could appear what the corruptions of the world, and the servility of historians have denominated great. But these same men would never have courage to consummate their crimes, were they taught that these crimes would render

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 249

them contemptible, and still more, ridiculous. Let us then, I pray you, take that view which may be most use- ful, and will be least dispiriting. Give me your hand; let us call this an historical ramble; let us avoid all te- dious method and detail; and if there be few flowers, let us cull the fruit.

Irish Antiquity — Jin Historical Ramble.

I often wonder why men set so much Value upon ancestry. For as all moralists agree, that frand and vio- lence prevail in this life over gentleness and virtue; so to say that we had great ancestors, is too often the same as Jo say, that we descend from great knaves. However, if it be a boast, the Irish, like other nations, have their ori- gin in the clouds. I respect the researches of antiqua- rians, because they open interesting prospects of human things, enlarge our narrow views, and are auxiliaries to philosophy and truth. But as to any view of civil polity, or any right one nation has to usurp upon another, because it is more, ancient, they are absurd. Indeed the antiquity claimed by the Indians and other nations of the East, are good arguments to silence all who can make no preten- tions beyond the creation. Therefore, our business is to skip at once over the creation and the deluge, and begin where profit begins.

One historian has made of Ireland, the Ogyges, the Z77- iima Thule, the Island of Calypso, and more, which I have forgotten: I have only my frail memory to consult.

Hh

V

250 MEMOIRS Of

Of the origin, of the Jfilesian Race, and the Irish

Language.

Before I enter upon this important office of tracing the descent of the Irish monarchs, I will, as the historian's titles may reflect upon his works, proffer my own more moddest claims of ancestry.

It is some years since one of my uncles delivered to the dowager Lady Moira, a pedigree authenticated by the Her- ald's office, wherein our line was traced through Joseph of Aramathea. How much higher it went I do not remem- ber; but as that ancestor may stand well with Jew or Gen- tile, I am not too proud to abide by him, if you think it dignity sufficient to qualify me to be the herald of thtf Irish kings.

For the same good reason that we skipped over the creation, and jumped across the deluge, we will, with your leave, pass by the Farthalonians, Nemedes, Belgians, Dannonians, Galenians and Davans, all Asiatic Scythians, as they say, who arrived at different times; when, I will not declare; nor indeed if I would, could I..

Blessed be the time when the Bards got leave to sing their histories, and accompany them with their harps; the music helped the story; for as Figaro says, "what is not good enough to be said, will do very well to sing." If I could play this over with my fiddle, how easy would it be. But we that undertake to be historians now-a-days, must write in straight prose line, and keep our balance like rope-dancers; for if we make a false step, there am. more to laugh at than to pity us. We must therefore steer

•-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 251

between Scylla and Charibdis. We must avoid on the one hand that gross and indolent ignorance which, too dull and too lazy to examine and compare, finds it shorter to deny and contradict. On the other hand, we must avoid that more amiable folly of enlightened credulity, which sins through the too passionate love of discovery and research.

The following account of the Milesian race is pretty fully substantiated: Near one thousand years before Christ, three sons of Milesius, Heber, Eremon and Ith, came with a colony from Gallicia in Spain, into Ireland. And from thence were descended the great monarchs of Ireland. These Milesians were of Scythian origin, their ancestors having migrated to PhoBnicia; the Phoenicians having, as every body knows, founded Carthage, and these Carthagenians having gone to the maritime coast of Spain, came from thence into Ireland.

Colonel Valancy has proved this Carthagenian origin in a variety of ways. Two of them principally I can call to mind. First, the arms and armour dug up in Ireland, of which the form and composition are evidently Carthageni- an; and secondly, the language, which he has shewn to be the same, and produced some lines of Carthagenian and Irish where there is not the variation of a syllable; and this opinion is sanctioned by Sir Laurence Parsons.

Col. Valancy also shews, that the speech ofHanno, Ihe Car- thagenian, in the play of Plautus, entitled Penulus, is Irish. I have this day laid my hand by chance upon the second volume of Plautus Taubmanni; and in the first scene of the fifth act of that play, I find it asserted,! that Casaiibonusi.

tNotis. JPxnorum autem idioma syriaco tractum docet Casaubonus ad suet.

252 MEMOIRS OF

affirmed to Suetonius, that the idiom of the Carthagenians was derived from the Syriac. And in another note upon tiic words rthalonim Walonith (gods and goddesses) they are said to be the same as Ethelijonim Vaholjonoth. Superos Super usque (Beos Beasque.J And Joseph, Scaligerf in his epistle to Stephan. Ubertas, says, "that -)■ this Punk dialect of Plautus, is little different from pure Hebrew And it is asserted on the same authorities, that \ the lan- guage of the bible is falsely denominated Hebrew, being Syriac, and the opinion of TVilhel. Postellus, agrees with that of Scaliger.

Sir William Jones has discovered, that the Shanscrite is the same as the Persee, or ancient Persian; supposes all those oriental dialects to be of one language. The Scots, Scoti, Scuyti — Skuthoi, or Scythians, are a colony of these Milesians. That they are of the same origin there is no doubt, for the Scotch highlanders can at this dav converse with the Irish without any difficulty, and the dispute is not yet settled to which of them the poem of Ossian is due. This native Irish, which is the Gaedhlic or Scotic, is the purest dialect of the ancient Celtic. The Welsh is also a dialect of it. What its influence was upon the sentiments of the heart, is proved from this, that Ed- ward the First was obliged to destroy the Welch Bards, by throwing them down their rocks in the sea, before he could subdue their country.

The barbarity of the English, the Danes and Normans, in destroying all the monuments of Scotch, Irish or Welsh

fPlautinx P<enoli dialectus parum abest a puritate Hebra- ismi.

\ Lincrua quam Habraicam vocamus & qua utuntur sacra, sacra biblia falso eo nomine nobis appellatuv cum sit Phsnicia>

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 25°

antiquity, has robbed the philosopher, if not the divine, of many a precious light. At all events, this wonderful affin- ity between Irish, Scythian, Scotch, Carthagenian, Welsh, Hebrew, Syriac, Persian, Shanscritc and other ancient dialects, is a strong and interesting proof of holy writ; as it goes to prove, that at one time there was a universal language. But the use I shall make of it is, to shew the ignorant and provoking insults winch the English have heaped upon the Irish, not only in the times of their own barbarity; but since letters had made progress among them. When Queen Elizabeth founded Trinity College, she would have had an Irish professor, but lord Burleigh dissuaded her, saying, it was a barbarous language, and repeated illiberally some phrase which he pretended was Irish; but which evidently was nonsense, and perhaps awk- ward enough in his mouth. You may remember it in Hume's history of England. The English of it, accord- ing to this historian, is, that "the white ox eat the black

Now upon the same illiberal scheme, if any queen, for instance queen Dido, who spoke good Phoenician, wished to have an English professor, and one of her favorites was to pronounce to her even in the courtliest manner, •'Length, breadth, wedth, strength, thickness, thankful- ness" and so forth, would it not shock the delicate ears of the queen, and damn the professor? Yet it would not be so unfair as to say that "the white ox cat the black egg!"

When we consider that the Irish vernacular tongue was to be traced with little corruption to the highest antiquity, and identified with holy writ, there is something con- temptibly stupid in this manner of treating it, and more so when we consider that the language of the English, al-

'254 MBMOUIS OF

though long spoken by one of the first and the most learned nations of Europe, to the polish of which Par- Jiell, Brook, the Sheridans, Burke, Goldsmith, Sterne, Swift, O'Lcary, and a multitude of other Irishmen, have . ontributed so much, cannot yet be reduced to any rules of grammar, or spoken or written with any ordinary perspi- cuity. Look into an act of parliament where precision is necessary, or into a legal conveyance, and read the "ickcresoexcrs and wliensoevers that abound; the he's, the she's, and the theifs; the any manner of person or persons, thing or things, and such paraphrases and amplifications, which never could be necessary in a language possessing either concord or inflexion; and the crude origin and con- struction of which, taste, learning or genius, has not been able to reform. Indeed, some of the very acts of parlia- ment, enacting penalties against those that spake Irish, or dwelt amongst the Irishry, are such a queer compound of Danish, Norman, hog-latin, and I dont know what, as to be the most biting satires upon the Englishry and those chat spoke English. For we must acknowledge, that whatever our ancestors, the Irish, were in the time of Strongbow, our ancestors, the English, were clumsy enough. You recollect it was about that time that the luxurious Thomas A. Becket was impeached for strewing his floors with green rushes and other such effeminacies; and it is-- an authentic fact, that as late as that, our ancestors, the English, sold their children and their pregnant wives, to our ancestors, the Irish, for slaves. The market was held where now stands the great city of Liverpool. Some traces of wive-selling still exist in England.

WIULIAM SAMPSOX, 255

Ancient Civilization of the Irish.

The proofs of ancient civilisation in Ireland are many, and that it was resorted to as a sanctuary of letters and learning, when other nations, now the most advanced, were gfemi-barharous. Its remote situation might have favored it in this respect, by protecting it from the inroads of pi- rates and invaders. At the council of Constance, the English ambassadors were only admitted in right of Ire- land, as a nation of higher and more ancient rank; for England had been conquered, they said, by the Romans, and was part of the empire. King Alfred, according to Venerable Bede, was educated in Ireland; and the Angle- Saxon, king Oswald, applied to Ireland for learned men to teach his people Christianity. Henrick, of St. Germain, in the reign of Charles the bald, says of the Irish, ''Al- most the whole nation, despising the dangers of the sea, resort to our coasts with a numerous train of philosophers." And in a tapestry at Versailles, representing Charle- magne, amongst the kings in friendship with him, there- was a king of Ireland with his harp. There is a harp in Trinity College, Dublin, said to be as old as Brian Boi- rume, who fell in the battle of Clontarf, anno. 1014. This liarp and their ancient music are very curious and indis- putable proofs, as no instrument known to the ancient nations had the same number of strings; nor was the counterpoint or harmony known to them, nor is there any vestige of it until of very late date, in Italy or Germany, the modern schools of music.

Gerald Barry, called Geroldas Cambrensis, employed by Henry II. to vilify the Irish, could not resist the charna

256 MEMOIRS OF

of their music., and endeavors to describe the effect of a treble atid base in a way that proves it was new to him,

I speaks in admiration of the manner in which the sub- in their music was sometimes transferred to the lower Btrii *s, and then, after many delightful modulations, arose out of its sweet confusion, and became distinct above. I have not the book, otherwise I could cite the passage. King James also is said to have boasted his Irish origin; and king James had the pride of ancestry.

The great epoch of Irish civilization appears to be the reign of Ollam Fodlha, according to Keating, about 950 years before the Christian rera. It was he who instituted the great council of Fes of Teamor or Tar ah, consisting of Druids and other learned men, representatives of the nation. He is said to have been a great prince and law- giver; and in the magnificent accounts of that assembly are the first traces of Irish history.

But the fairest proof is, the easy reception the gospel met with in the fifth century, when St. Patrick, a Skuthos or Scot, sent by Pope Celestin to preach Christianity. So much did that mild religion coincide with the sentiments of the Irish that, what never happened in any other coun- try, it was enforced by persuasion alone, and without the shedding of one drop of blood. And five years after St. Patrick opened his mission, so hospitably was he received, that he was summoned to the grand council at Tarah, as we should say in modern phrase, made a member of par- liament, and put upon a committee of nine, to reform the civil history, and make it useful to posterity.

There are abundant other proofs, but they are too long., I am sorry, however, to say, that whatever their ancient • ivilization might be, there are too good proofs of their

WI1LIAM SAMPSON. £57

degeneracy at the time of which we are now about to tr For it appears that the people were in a servile

state, and that they had one principal king, four or five inferior ones, and in all sixty, who had sovereign authori- ty. When we think of their long torment under one king, sixty seems an intolerable number!

Character of the Irish, from English Historians.

It is a hard law upon every Irishman who would treat of his own country affairs, that in order to gain belief he must say only what an Englishman has said before him: That is, he must speak with the tongue of the enemy. A simple author, speaking of one of the rebellions, uses this pathetic observation: "Every Englishman who fell, died with twenty tongues in his mouth. But when the Irishman fell, he never spake more.'*

This way of writing, like Lazarus begging the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table, is not to my mind; yet I shall adopt it rather than expose myself to be set down for an enthusiast. Cambden, in his Britannia, p. 680, says of the Irish,f that "they are courageous, ingenious, re-

t "Bellicosi sunt, ingeniosi, corporum lineamentis con^ spicui, mirifica carnis mollitie, et propter musculorum teneri- tudinem agilitate incredibili." And (p. 789) "In universum gens hsc corpore valida et imprimis agilis, ammo forti et ela- to, ingenio acri, bellicosa, vitse prcdiga, laboris frigoris et in- edia: patiens, veneri indulgens, hospitibus perbenigna, amore constans, inimicitiis implacabilis, credulitate levis, gloria avi- da, contumeliae et injuria impatiens, et ut inquit ille olim> ijx omnes actus vehementissima."

ii

J

238 MEMOIRS OV

inarkable for the beauty of their persons, of wonderfully fine complexion and, owing to the flexibility of their mus- cles, of great agility." And in p. 789: "These people are all endowed with vigor of body, strong and lofty minds, and acute genius. They are warlike, dauntless, patient of fa tigue, cold and hunger, amorous, benevolently hospitable Constant in love, implacable in hatred, unsuspecting, pas- sionate for glory, and ardent in all their pursuits.'*

Finglass, chief-baron of the exchequer, in the time of Henry VIII, says, "That the English statutes, passed in Ireland, are not observed eight days after passing them; whereas those laws and statutes made by the Irish on their hills, they keep firm and stable without breaking them for any favor or reward."

Sir John Davies who, as Mr. Plowden observes, had still better opportunity of knowing the Irish, being the first justice that ventured on circuits out of the English pale, says, "That there is no nation under the sun that love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish; or will rest better satisfied with the execution thereof, when upon a just cause they do desire it, although it be against themselves." Now, this from an English enemy, for so he was at the end of a bloody war of fifteen years, is pret- ty strong testimony. Yet this same author, who had been attorney-general in Ireland, in James's reign, says, that the multitude were "brayed as it were in a mortar." And it was he who went so far as to recommend "the maistering the Irish by the sxvord, and breaking them by warre, in or- der to make them capable of obedience and good seede." Now, what could be the use of braying the multitude in a mortar, maistering them by the sword, or breaking them by warre, if they were so contented with equal and indifferent justice,

WILLIAM SAMPSOJf. 25$-

even when it was against themselves? Would they not have been as capable of good seede, if they had not been brayed in the mortar, but favored with indifferent justice against themselves? But then they would have been content! And it shall be my business to shew you, that that never was the wish of the English, or of the Anglo-Irish. And since we are upon the subject of this attorney-general, it may be as well to quote him now to this purpose, though we shall have occasion presently to refer to him again for another. In his discovery of the true causes why Ireland •was never entirely subdued, part 1st. he says "During the time of my service in Ireland (which began in the first year of his majesty's raigne) I have visited all the provinces of that kingdome, in sundry journies and circuits; wherein I have observed the good temperature of the ayre; the fruit- fulness of the soyle; the pleasant and commodious seats for habitation; the safe and large ports and havens, lying open for trafficke into all west parts of the world; the long inlets of many navigable rivers; and so many great lakes and fresh ponds within the lands, as the like arc not to be seene in any part of Europe; the rich fishings, and wilde fowle of all kinds; and lastly, the bodies and minds of the people, endued with extraordinary abilities of nature,"

Now, in this fruitfulness of the soil, these fishing and hunting grounds, and "these commodious seats for habita- tions," lay the whole mystery, why "the multitude were brayed in the mortar," maistered by the sword, and broken by warre, and deprived of every benefit of justice, save her sword; for of that attribute, justice has not been niggardly towards them. Now, my friend, keep these "commodious seals for habitations" in your eye, and you

260 memoirs or

will have the master-key of the history, and understand tlie whole.

I shall just .subjoin the testimony of the learned Sir Edward Cooke, 4 Inst. 34®.

"For," Bays he, "I have heen informed, by many of • ban that have had judicial places there, and partly of mine own knowledge, that there is no nation of the Chris- tian world that are greater lovers of justice than they are, which virtue must of necessity be accompanied with many others."

So much for the country and character of the Irish- Such a country, and such a people, ought to constitute an earthly Paradise. Yet has it been, for six or seven centu- ries, the pre-eminent abode of misery. Before we enter upon the unfortunate epoch of English invasion, and all the curses entailed by our English ancestors upon our Irish ancesters, let us make ourselves a little acquainted with our English ancestors; it will not be tedious. There is little in any author concerning them before C»sar, who, in bis history de Bello Gallico, describes them thus: After excepting the men of Kent, whom he states to be more civilized, he continues: fThose of the interior sow no corn, but live on milk and flesh, and cover themselves with skins, and dye themselves with woad, which gives them a

t Interos plerique frumenta non serunt, sed lacte 8c carne vivunt: pellibusque sunt vestiti. Omnes vero se Bntanni vi- tro inficiunt, quod cseruleum efficit colorem; atque hoc horri- b'liore sunt in pugna adspectu: capilloque sunt promisso; atque omni parte corporis rasa, przter caput Sc labrum supe- rius Uxores habent deni duodenique inter se communes; & xnaxime fratres cum fratribus, Sc parentes cum liberis: sed si qui sunt ex bis nati, eorum habentur liberi, a quibus plurimum Tirgines qusque ducts sunt.

WILLIAM SAMrSOX. £61

sky-blue colour; ("cerulwm colorem"J and makes them more horrible in battle. They wear their hair about their ears, and shave all but the head and the upper lip. Ten or twelve of them take their wives in common, and generally brothers go with brothers, and children with their parents; and those who have had most to do with the virgins, are reputed the fathers of the children!

Now what do you say to our sky-blue ancestors? Were they painted for tear, or not?

And may not this be the reason that their descendants, notwithstanding their mixture with Danes, Saxons and Normans, have never got rid of this blue tinge, and are still said to be the nation of the Blue Devils?

Horace represents them as a nation of aliens or foreign- ers in the universe, and calls them "Fenitus toto disjunctos orbe Britannos." If this was not true, in fact, when Horace wrote it, it was a true prophecy; for though they have pretended that the Irish patriots would be received in no country, it is they themselves who are now in that pre- dicament. There is scarcely a nation with whom they are not in hostility; not even their Antipodes, the Chinese. But it is time, having brought both parties into court, to give them a day, and make a short adjournment of the cause.

26& MEMOIRS OF

LETTER XXXIII.'

Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our English Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of the DIS- PUTE.

THE first visit or visitation of our English an- cestors to our Irish ancestors, came about in this manner: O'Rourke, king of Breffiny, went upon a pilgrimage; bet- ter he had staid at home; for Dermod M'Murrogh, king of Leinster (Oh these kings!) carried off his wife in his ab- sence; and this was about the year 1166, as near as I can learn. Roderick O'Conner \xas master-king of all Ire- land, and the poor pilgrim applied to Roderick for his pro- tection. The adulterer went with his story to king Henry the second; and the Plantagenet king who was then in Aquatine, in France, (God knows what his own wife was about then) took the part of the adulterer against the pil- grim, and applied to the pope. And the pope (Adrian) who was an Englishman, took the part of the English king and the adulterer, against the Irish king and the pilgrim, and so the dispute began. The English pope A- drian gave a Bull to the English king Henry, worse than any Irish Bull, and granted him "all Ireland," be the same more or less, in consideration of natural love and affection, the pilgrim and the pilgrim's wife to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding. And he ordered the Irish to re- ceive this English king honorably, and reverence him as their lord. With this monstrous bull, and five hundred

WitLIAM SAMPgOK, £63

men besides, he came and formed, with little opposition, a settlement which they called the English pale, having first cantoned out the whole island to ten men, and so began that dispute f

"Never ending, still beginning, "Fighting still, and still destroying."

Which has since deluged this unfortunate country in blood, with little intermission, for near seven hundred years.

How the Irish reverenced the English king, and what cause they had, appears from a remonstrance to Pope John XXII. in the reign of Edward II. as follows:

Extracts from the Irish Remonstrance , to Fope John XXII.

« It is extremely painful to us, that the viperous de- tractions of slanderous Englishmen, and their iniquitous Suggestions against the defenders of our rights, should ex- asperate your holiness against the Irish nation. But alas, you know us only by the misrepresentation of our enemies, and you are exposed to the danger of adopting the infa- mous falsehoods which they propagate, without hearing any thing of the detestible cruelties they have committed against our ancestors, and continue to commit even to this day against ourselves. Heaven forbid, that your holiness •should be thus misguided; and it is to protect our unfortu- nate people from such a calamity, that we have resolved here to give you a faithful account of the present state of our kingdom; if indeed a kingdom we can call the mclan- choly remains of a nation, that so long groans under the tyranny of the kings of England and of their barons, some »f whom, though born among us, continue to practice the

06*4 MEMOIRS OF

same rapine and cruelties against us. which their ances- tors did against ours heretofore. We shall speak nothing but the truth, and we hope that your holiness will not delay to inflict condign punishment on the authors and abettors of such inhuman calamities.

"Know then, that our forefathers came from Spain, and our chief apostle, St. Patrick, sent by your predecessor, Pope Cclestin, in the year of our Lord 435, did, by the in- spiration of the Holy Ghost, most effectually teach us the truth of the Holy Roman Catholic faith, that was preach- ed to them, have, in number sixty -one, without any mix- ture of foreign blood, reigned in Ireland to the year 1170. And those kings were not Englishmen, nor of any other nation but our own, who with pious liberality bestowed am- ple endowments in lands, and many immunities on the Irish church, though in modern times our churches are most barbarously plundered by the English, by whom they are almost despoiled. And though those our kings, so long and so strenuously defended, against the tyrants and kings of different regions, the inheritance given by God, preserving their innate liberty at all times inviolate; yet Adrian IV, your predecessor, an Englishman, more even by affection and prejudice than by birth, blinded by that affection and the false suggestions of Henry II. king of England, under whom, and perhaps by whom, St. Thomas of Canterbury was murdered, gave the dominion of this our kingdom, by a certain form of words, to that same Henry II. whom he ought rather to have stript of his own on account of the above crime.

"Thus, omitting all legal and judicial order, and alas! his national prejudices and predilections blindfolding the discernment of the pontiff, without our being guilty of any

WIMJAM SAMPSON. 265

Trime, without any rational cause whatsoever, he gave us up to be mangled to pieces by the teeth of the most cruel and voracious of all monsters. And if sometimes nearly flayed alive, we escape from the deadly bite of these treacherous and greedy wolves, it is but to descend into the miserable abyses of slavery, and to drag on the doleful remains of a life more terrible than death itself. Ever since those English appeared first upon our coasts in vir- tue of the above surreptitious donation, they entered our territories under a certain specious pretext of piety and external hypocritical shew of religion; endeavoring in the mean time, by every artifice malice could suggest, to ex- tirpate us root and branch, and without any other right than that of the strongest, they have so far succeeded by base and fraudulent cunning, that they have forced us to quit our fair and ample habitations and p atcrnal inher- itances, and to take refuge, like wild beasts, in the moun- tains, the woods and the morasses of the country; nor can even the caverns and dens protect us against their insa- tiable avarice. They pursue us into these frightful abodes, endeavoring to dispossess us of the wild uncultivated rocks, and arrogating to themselves the property of every place on which we can stamp the figure of our feet; and through an excess of the most profound ignorance, impudence, arrogance, or blind insanity scarcely conceivable, they dare to assert, that not a single part of Ireland is ours, but by right entirely their own.

"Hence the implacable animosities and exterminating carnage, which are perpetually carried on between us-; hence our continual hostilities, our detestable treacheries, our bloody reprisals, our numberless massacres, in which since their invasion to this day, more than 50,000 nfen

Kk

26« MiMOIKS or

have perished on both sides; not to speak of those who died by famine, despair, the rigors of captivity, nightly maraud- ing, and a thousand other disorders, which it is impossible i > remedy, on account of the anarchy in which we live; an anarchy which, alas! is tremendous not only to the state, but also to the church of Ireland, the ministers of which are daily exposed, not only to the loss of the frail and transitory things of this world, but also to the loss of those solid and substantial blessings, which are eternal and im- mutable.

"Let those few particulars concerning our origin, and the deplorable state to which we have been reduced by the above donation of Adrian IV. suffice for the present.

«We have now to inform your holiness, that Henry, king of England, and the four kings his successors, have violated the conditions of the pontifical bull, by which they were impowered to invade this kingdom; for the said Henry promised, as appears by the said bull, to extend the patri- mony of the Irish church, and to pay to the apostolical see, annually, one penny for each house; now in this promise, both he and his successors above-mentioned, and their ini- quitous ministers, observed not at all with regard to Ire- land. On the contrary, they have entirely and intention- ally eluded tliem, and endeavored to force the reverse.

•*As to the church lands, so far from extending them, they have confined them, retrenched them, and invaded them on all sides, insomuch that some cathedral churches have been by open force, notoriously plundered of half their possessions; nor have the persons of our clergy been more respected; for in every part of the country we find bishops and prelates cited, arrested and imprisoned, with- out distinction, and they are oppressed with such servile

YPlIXI.vSf ^AMPSQN. 2jC7

fear by those frequent and unparalleled injuries, that they have not even the courage to represent to your holiness the sufferings they are so wantonly condemned to undergo. But since they are so cowardly and so basely silent in their own cause, they deserve not that we should say a syl- lable in their favor. The English promised also to intro- duce a better code of laws, and enforce better morals among the Irish people; but instead of this, they have so corrupted our morals, that the holy and dove-like simplici- ty of our nation is, on account of the flagitious example of those reprobates, changed into the malicious cunning of the serpent.

, "We had a written code of laws, according to which our nation was governed hitherto; they have deprived us of those laws and of every law except one, which it is impos- sible to wrest from us; and for the purpose of exterminate ing us, they have established other iniquitous laws, by which injustice and inhumanity are combined for our de- struction; some of which we here insert for your inspec- tion, as being so many fundamental rules of English juris- prudence established in this kingdom.

'{Every man, not an Irishman, can, on any charge, however frivolous, prosecute an Irishman; but no Irish- man, whether lay or ecclesiastic (the prelates alone ex- cepted) can prosecute for any offence whatsoever, because he is an Irishman. If any Englishman should, as they often do, treacherously and perfidiously murder an Irish- man, be he ever so noble or so innocent, whether lay or ecclesiastic, secular or regular, even though he should be a prelate, no satisfaction can be obtained from an English court of justice; on the contrary, the more worthy the murdered man was, and the more respected by his own

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countrymen, the more the murderer is rewarded and hon- ored, not only by the English rabble, but even by the English clergy and bishops, and especially by those whose duty it is chiefly, on account of their station in life, to cor- rect such abominable malefactors. Every Irish woman, whether noble or ignoble, who marries an Englishman, is after her husband's death deprived of the third of her hus- band's lands and possessions, on account of her being an Irish woman. In like manner, whenever the English canv violently oppress to death an Irishman, they will by no means permit him to make a will or any disposal whatso- ever of his affairs; on the contrary, they seize violently on all his property, deprive the church of its rights, and by force reduce to a servile condition that blood, which has been from all antiquity free.

"The same tribunal of the English, by advice of the king of England, and some English bishops, among whom the ignorant and ill-conducted archbishop of Armagh was president, has made in the city of St. Kenniers (Kilkenny) tiie following absurd and informal statute; that no religi- ous community in the English pale, shall receive an Irish, man as novice, under pain of being treated as contumacious oatemners of the king of England's laws. And as well before as after this law was enacted, it was scrupulously ^'r.crved by the English Dominicans, Franciscans, Monks, Canons, and all other religious orders of the Eng- lish nation, who shewed a oartiality in the choice of their religious subjects; the more odious, inasmuch as those monasteries were founded by Irishmen, from which Irish- men are so basely excluded bv Englishmen in modern times. Besides, where they ought to have established vir- tue, they have done exactly the contrary; they have exter-

WIIIIAM SAMPSON. 2G9

minated our native virtues, and established the most abom- inable vices in their stead.

"For the English, who inhabit our island and call them- selves a middle nation (between English and Irish) are so different in their morals from the English of England and of all other nations, that they can with the greatest pro- priety be stiled a nation not of middling, but of extreme perfidiousness; for it is of old, that they follow the abomi- nable and nefarious custom, which is acquiring more in- veteracy every day from habit, namely, when they invite a nobleman of our nation to dine with tliem, they, either in the midst of the entertainment, or in the unguarded hour of sleep, spill the blood of our unsuspecting countrymen, terminate their detestable feast with murder, and sell the heads of their guests to the enemy. Just as Peter Brumi- chehame, who is since called the treacherous baron, did

with Mauritius de S his fellow-sponsor, and the said

Mauritius's brother, Calnacus, men much esteemed for their talents and their honor among us; he invited them to an en- tertainment on a feast day of the Holy Trinity; on that day, the instant they stood up from the table, he cruelly massacred them, with twenty-four of. their followers, and sold their heads at a dear price to their enemies; and when he was arraigned before the king of England, the presem king's father, no justice could be obtained against such a nefarious and treacherous offender. In like manner lord Thomas Clare, the duke of Gloucester's brother, invited to his house the most illustrious Brien Roe O'Brien of Tho- mond, his sponsor. -

'•All hope of peace between us is therefore completely destroyed; for such is their pride, such their excessive lust of dominion, and such our ardent ambition to shake

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off this insupportable yoke, and recover the inheritance, which they have so unjustly usurped; that, as there never was, so there never will be, any sincere coalition between them and us; nor is it possible there should in this life, for We entertain a certain natural enmity against each other* flowing from mutual malignity descending by inheritance from father to son, and spreading from generation to gen- eration.

Let no person wonder then, if we endeavour to preserv i our lives and defend our liberties, as well as we cai against those cruel tyrants, usurpers of our just propertic and murderers of our persons; so far from thinking it un- lawful, we hold it to be a meritorious act, nor can we b< accused of perjury or rebellion, since neither our fathers or we did at any time bind ourselves by any oath of allegi- ance to their fathers or to them, and therefore without the least remorse of conscience, while breath remains we will attack them in defence of our just rights, and never lay down our arms until we force them to desist. Besides, we are fully satisfied to prove in a judicial manner, before twelve or more bishops, the facts which we have stated, and the grievances wldch we have complained of. Not like the English, who in time of prosperity, contemn all legal ordinances, and if they enjoyed prosperity at pre- sent, would not recur to Rome, as they do now, but would crush, with their overbearing and tyrannical haughtiness, all the surrounding nations, despising every law, human and divine.

"Therefore, on account of all those injuries and a thousand others, which human wit cannot easily compre- hend, and on account of the kings of England and their wicked ministers who, instead of governing us, as they arc

SyOJulA.M SAMiPSOX. 271

bound to do, with justice and moderation, have wickedly endeavored to exterminate us from off the face of the earth, and co shake off entirely their detestable yoke and recover our native liberties, which we lost by their means, we are forced to carry on an exterminating war, chusing in de- fence of our lives and liberties, rather to rise like men and expose our persons bravely to all the dangers of war, than any longer to bear like women their atrocious and detesta- ble injuries; and in order to obtain our interest the more speedily and consistently, we invite the gallant Edward Bruce, to whom, being descended from our most noble an- cestors, we transfer, as we justly may, our own right of royal dominion, unanimously declaring him our king by common consent who in our opinion, and in the opinion of most men, is as just, prudent and pious, as he is powerful and courageous; who will do justice to all classes of people, and restore to the church those properties of which it has been so damnably and inhumanly despoiled, &c."

Now would one not think that this was a picture of our own unhappy times? The same insults, injuries and op- pressions? The same spirit of just resentment? At least, at this time it was not Popery, for the Irish were remon- strating against a Papal abuse. There were no reform speeches of Mr. Pitt, no rebel Washington, no levelling Tom Paine, no Mirabeau, no French principles, no duke of Richmond for universal suffrage, no parliamentary op- position, no Catholic convention, no Defenders, no United Irishmen, no Tone, no O'Connor, no Emmet, no M'Nevin. But there were peep-of-day-boys, torturers, plunderers-, corrupters, invaders, traitors! And like cause, like effect. There was fruitful soil, fish and wildfowle, and commo- dious seats /or habitations/

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I now pass over a mass of atrocious records, and in order to gain some belief for crimes almost incredible, I will call once more to my aid the English attorney-gene- ral. Those who will not believe me, an Irishman, will perhaps respect an English attorney-general.

'•Hence it is," says sir John Davies, than whose there cannot be better authority upon this point, "that in all the parliament rolls which are extant from the 40th year of Edward III. when the statutes of Kilkenny were enacted', to the reign of king Henry VIII. we find the degenerate and disobedient English called Rebels; but tl»e Irish, which were not in the king's peace, are called Enemies. Statute of Kilkenny, c. 1, 10 and II.— 11 Hen. IV. c. 24.— 10 Hen. VI. c. 1, 18.— 18 Hen. VL c. 4.-5 Edw. IV. c. 6.— 10 Hen. VIII. c. IT. All these statutes speak of English Rebels and Irish enemies, as if the Irish had never been in the condition of subjects, but always out of the protec- tion of the laws, and were indeed in a worse case than aliens of any foreign realm that was in amity with the crown of England. For by divers other penal laws, the English were forbidden to marry, to foster, to make gos- sipes with the Irish, or to have any trade or commerce in their markets and fairs. Nay there was a law made no longer since than the 28th Hen. VIII. that the English should not marry with any person of Irish blood, though be had got a charter of denization, unless he had done both homage and fealty to the king in the chancery, and were also bounden by recognisance in sureties to continue a loyal subject. Whereby it is manifest, that snch as had the government of Ireland under the crown of England, did intend to make a -perpetual separation of enmity between the English and the Irish."

WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 2f3

One tiling appears from all the old laws and tyrannies, that the Irish knew how to live, and the English were glad to learn from them; that their women were pretty and endearing, and the English were glad to marry them; and they were happier with the Irish manners than their own. No laws, however atrocious, could ever hinder them from loving these engaging Irish women, nor adopting the jovial manners of the men. They paid dear for it; they were confiscated in their turn, and nicknamed degenerate. And now, when there was little more to take from the Irish, they fell upon the English-Irish, and distinguished be- tween English by birth and English by blood, and so open- ed anew road to commodious habitations. Two other nick- names were added, "Irish-English'? and "English-Irish!"' B\it this was a little more complex, and required more law; for the crimes of the mere Irish were easy of proof and hard of defence, viz. that they were born in their own country and spoke their own language. And even the Pope's bull was ex abundantia. This right of the English to massacre the Irish, was not half so good as that of the Mohawks, if there be any Mohawks at this day, would he to scalp the New-Yorkers, because the New-Yorkers could not speak Mohawk; provided always, that the Mohawks •had a bull from the Pope and tomahawks enough. For the Mohawks might say over and above, that we in New- York were foreigners, degenerate Rebel-English; that we spoke English; they might divide us into English by birth, and English by blood; and that some of us were mere English and Rebel-English, and that we fostered and gossipped with the English, and were more English than the English themselves. Ipsis angiitis angliciores.'.'.' But heap the attorney-general; "The Irish nation ne~

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titioned to be naturalized." This was the Catholic ques- tion in abstract! The then king, Edward III. {^pnot king George III. observe, "satisfied his conscience by re- ferring to his Irish counsellors." And the Irish counsellors, {£J° not the Beresfords and the Clares, satisfied the king's conscience by assuring him, "that the Irish might not be naturalized without damage or prejudice to themselves or to the crown." What a happy conscience is a king's con- science! So the commodious habitations and "the wild fowl," were still good game. A simple man like you or I, would not perhaps understand why a man might not be naturalized in his own country, "without prejudice to him- self." But these counsellors were the "lives and fortune* s men" of that day, and knew their own reasons. "The truth is," says sir John, "these great English lords did, to the uttermost of their power, cross and withstand the enfranchisement of the Irish, for the causes before ex- pressed."

Again, he says, "as long as they were out of the pro- tection of the law, so as every Englishman might oppress, spoile and kill them without controulement, how was it possible they should be otherwise than outlaws and ene- mies to the king of England? When they might not con- verse or commerce with any civill men, nor enter into any towne or city without perill of their lives, whether should they flie but into the woods and mountaines, and there live in a wilde and barbarous manner?" Here was the origin of "xvilde Irishmen," that fine topic of jest to the ignorant and the witling! "In a word," adds our author, "if the English would neither in peace govern them by the law, nor in warre roote them out by the sword, must they not needs be pricks in their eyes, and thorns in their sides to

WIIXIAM SAMPSOV. 27;

the worlde's end?" And in another place he says, "the Irish were generally reputed aliens to the crown of Eng- land, so that it was no felony to kill a mere Irishman in time of peace."

By the 4th chapter of the statutes made at Trim, 25 Hen. VI. (A. D. 1447) it was enacted, "that if any were found with their upper lips unshaven by the space of a fort- night, it might be lawful for any man to take them and their goods as Irish enemies, and to ransom them as Irish enemies."

By the 28th Henry VI. c. 3 (A. D. 1450.) it was also made lawful "for every liegeman of the king to dispose of them without judge or jury." You may recollect how the English disposed of that poor king himself without judge or jury; and rewards were put upon their heads at the suggestion of the resentment of any private individual.

By a statute of the 50th Edward IV. c. 2 (A. D. 1465) it was enacted, "that it should be lawful to all manner of men that found any thieves robbing, by day or by night, or going to rob or steal, in or out, going or coming, hav- ing no faithful man of good name and fame in their company in English apparel, upon any of the liege people of the king, to take and kill those and cut off their heads, without any impeachment of our sovereign lord and king, &c." Now that this was expressly saying that any Englishman might kill any Irishman, whether going or coming, in or out, is evident, because the clause of exemption is too absurd to have any meaning; for no man would go to rob with a man of good name and fame in English apparel in his company. And this necessary escort of a man in English apparel resembles the customs of the wandering Tartars, and the plundering hordes of Arabia, whom the traveller

2r£ fttettoftts of

is obliged to hire to protect him from other robbers of the same- tribe. But hear the rest. It was made lawful to cut off their heads (a humane process J "and of any head so cut in the county of Meath, that the cutter of the said liead, and his ayders there to him* cause the said head so cut, to be brought to the Portreeve of the town of Trim, and the Portreeve put it on a stake or spear, upon the castle of Trim; and that the said Portreeve should give Mm1 his writing, under the seal of the said town, testifying the bringing of the head to him. And that it should be lavrful for the bringer of the said head and his ayders to the same, to destraine and levy with their own hands.** (Summary again.) "Of every man having one plough- land in tlie barony where the thief was to be taken, two pence; half a plougliland, one penny; and every man hav- ing a house and goods to the value of forty shillings, one penny; and of every other cottier having house and smoke, one half penny." Here was good encouragement to mur- der and robbery! And yet God hath said, "Thou shalt not steal/' and "thou shalt do no murder." What indig- nation must these Irish have felt, whose laws, milder even than the benignant institutions of the country where I write, punished no crime with death. Oh barbarous Eng- lishmen! I blush for my bloody ancestors!

By the 40th Edward 111. (A. D. 1 366) alliance by mar- riage, nurture of infants, and g ussipred with the Irish, are enacted into high treason. And if any man of English "race should use an Irish name* Irish language, or Irish ap- parel, or any other guise or fashion of the Irish, if he had lands or tenements* the same should be seized, until he had given security to the chancery, to conform himself in all joints to the English manner of living! Well does this au-

WlfcllAM SAMPSON- 2rf

thor observe— "That the plagues of Egypt, though they were grievous, were of short continuance; but the plague of Ireland lasted four hundred years together!" And speak- ing of another oppression, the Cotjgue and livery, now ex- ercised under the name of free quarters: "it produced, he said, two notorious effects; first, it made the land waste; for, when the husbandman had labored all the year, the soldier in one night did consume the fruits of all his labor. And hereupon, of necessity, came depopulation, banishment, and extirpation of the better Sort of subjects. Lastly, this oppression did, of neccssitie, make the Irish a crafty peo- ple; for such as are oppressed, and live in slavery, are ever put to their shifts. And though this oppression was first invented in hell, yet if it had been used and practised there, as it has been in Ireland, it would long ago have destroyed the kingdome of Belzebub." And Dr. Leland describes the free quarters of that day, just what we have seen them in ours. "Every inconsiderable party, Who, under the pretence of loyalty, received the King's commission to repel the ad- versary in some particular district, became pestilent ene- mies to the inhabitants. Their properties, their lives, the chastity of their families, were all exposed to barbarians, who sought only to glut their brutal passions; and by then horrible excesses, purchased the curse of God and man!'-5

Such was the persecution of the Irish during four nun- . dred years prior to the reformation of the religion of the. English* And yet there are bigots who will impute the indignant feelings of the Irish to their hatred to Protest- ants, although they were brayed four hundred years in the mortar before there was a Protestant. Whether the two hundred years that are to come, gave them more rea- son to rejoice, we shall now consider.

WEMoins t>F

XETTER XXXIV.

Of the Reformation,

IN order to understand the new hardships which the Irish were now to endure, it is good to take a short j,vofthe state of religion in England. We shall hear no more now of mere Irish and degenerate English. For n this time, their persecutions assume a new form, and are carried on in the name of God! Inexplicable paradox! How the mildest religion on the earth should be, as it has always been, called in aid to sanction the most atrocious crimes; and how men have dared, in profanely invoking it, to make laws so repugnant to it that they never could be obeyed until the laws of God were broken. I cannot bet- ter describe the state of religion amongst the English than by a short history of the apostle of the reformation.

The Life and Death of Henry Vltt.

He was born in 1491, and began to reign in 1509. He raised liis favorites, the instruments of his crimes, from the depth of obscurity to the pinnacle of grandeur, and af- ter setting them up as tyrants, put them to death like slaves. He was pre-eminent in religion; first quarrelling with Luther, whose doctrines he thought too republican, he became defender of the Catholic faith; and then quar-

WILIIAM SAMPSON. 279

rolling with the Pope, who stood in the way of his mur- ders, he was twice excommunicated. He made creeds aijd articles, and made it treason not to swear to them; he made others quite opposed to them, and made it treason not to swear to them; and he burned his opponents with slow fire. He burned an hysterical girl, the maid of Kent, for her opinions. He disputed with a foolish school-mas- ter on the Real Presence, and burned him to convince him. He beheaded Bishop Fisher and sir Thomas Moore, for not swearing that his own children were bastards. He robbed the churches, and gave the revenue of a convent to an old woman for a pudding. He burned a lovely young woman (Anne Ascue) for jabbering of the real presence.

He was in love as in religion, delicate and tender. He first married his sister-in-law and, because her children died, divorced her, married her maid of honor and made parliament and clergy declare he had done well. He be- headed the maid of honor for letting her handkerchief fall at a tilting, and two or three gentlemen with her to keep her company, threw her body into an old arrow case and buried it therein, and the very next day married a third wife, and his parliament and his clergy made it treason not to say it was well.

He next proposed to Francis I. to bring two princesses of Guise, and a number of other pretty French ladies, that he might choose a fourth wife among them. The French king was too gallant to bring ladies to market like geld- ings, so he fell in love with the picture of a Dutch lady> and married her without seeing her. When she came, he found she spoke Dutch, and did not dance well. He swore she was no maid, called her a Flanders mare, and turned her, loose; and as he had destroyed Cardinal

280 MEMOIRS WE

Woolscy, when he was tired of his former wife, so he b'c- headcd Cromwell when he was surfeited with this one. -

He married a fifth wife, with whom he was so delighted, that he had forms of thanksgiving composed by his bishops and read in the churches, and then condemned her, her grand mother, uncles, aunts, cousins, about a dozen in all, ro be put to death. Having done all this, and much more, he died of a rotten leg, in the 38th year of his reign, and in the 56th of his life, a royal peep-of-day-boy, and a yery memorable brute;

Of the Popes of London.

Now when we consider what kind of person this Henry was, can we wonder that the Irish were not prepared to swear that he was the elect man of God, the successor of St. Peter; that he kept the keys of Heaven; that he was Christ's vice-gerent upon earth; in short, that he was the sunreme head of the church, which in their idea was the POPE; would it not at least have required time, persua- sion, gentleness, good offices and great benefits to have eiv gaged the followers of the benevolent St. Patrick to quit his opinions for the extravagant absurdities of this beast? x\las! instead of persuasion, it was new cruelties; and the persecutions that had exhausted inhumanity, seemed but to revive under the more frightfid auspices of perverted re- ligion! Yet the interested and the intriguing, those who traffick with the king's conscience and the people's misery, affect to impute all the disaffection of the Irish to religious bigotry. That the same war was carried on against them

WILLIAM SAMPSOST. 281

after as before the reformation, is certain; the war-whoop was only changed. And the arrows that were prepared for them before, were only dipped anew in this fresh poi- son. The reformation might be an amelioration, or it might not, according to its effects. The tree is known by its fruit. For my own part, I care as little for Pope Clement as for Pope Henry; for Pope Pious as for Pope George, if persecution be all the benefit they bestow. But upon this new topic I must hold my pen short, for it is apt to run away with me. A few instances out of many may suffice, to shew that the reformation, however good in its principle, brought nothing to the Irish but new afflic- tions. This is the view of Irish history, which best an- swers to your question as to the true causes of the troubles in Ireland.

Henry was not too busy disputing with school-masters, broiling young ladies, and murdering his wives, to have time also for tormenting the Irish. He formed a parlia- ment as corrupt and servile as that of England, which, like it, first declared his first marriage void and the chil- dren of it bastards; immediately after, hearing of the murder of Anne of Bolein, repealed that law, declared the issue of Anne bastards, and settled the succession up- on the issue of lady Jane, with a power to the new Pope of disposing of the Irish by will.

But wicked and ruffian as Henry was, he was not blind; and after many violent attempts, he found it wise to soothe and flatter the Irish, inviting them to his court, and treat- ing their chiefs with marked distinction; by which arti- fice (for the Irish are too easily won by kindness, though obstinate against oppression) he was followed up by a brigade of Irish to the siege of Bologne, who distifr-

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guisheil themselves by their extraordinary courage and activity.

Edward VI. was a virtuous, or what the historians call a weak prince? and if he signed any instruments of intol- erance or cruelty, it was with tears in his eyes!

Queen Mary (the bloody) was a bigoted Papist, but Ire- land fared all alike; and the "commodious" habitations produced new rebellions.

Popk Eizabeth repealed all the laws of her sister, con- fiscated the commodious habitations without mercy, sent rommissionei-s to exercise ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and passed the oath of supremacy, of which this may be ob- served, that it was now not enough to assent to the doc- trine that the kings of England were the popes of Ire- land; but for fear that should not be effectual in provoking revolt, they were forced, under pain of treason, forfeiture and prcemuniere to swrear to it. This was not the pitch- cap-torture for the head, but the torture for the conscience and the heart. It was establishing God Almighty by law after the fancy of the wickedest of his creatures. When, in old times, it was attempted to force the Norman laws upon the English, the Barons cried out with one voice, "We will have no change in the English law!" Nolumus leges anglae nurture. This exclamation, so extolled, was in opposition to a humane law proposed by the Canonists at the parliament of Merton, the object of which was, to rescue from innocent disgrace children whose parents married after their birth. But the stubborn support of an- cient institutions, good or bad, by Englishmen is cele- brated with unbounded commendation; whilst if Irishmen refuse to swear against their conscience and belief, there

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 3$i

is no pain nor ignominy too extreme; so hard a measure is that dealt at ail times to them.

It ¥ft$ to the reign of this Pope Elizabeth, that the re% beOion of the grea' chieftain, O'Neil, raged, who was so treacherously murdered in a camp; and the title she set up to his estate is quite amusing: It appears in the pre- amble of the statute, XI. Eliz. ch. 1, in those words:

"And drst, that at the beginning, and before the comming of Irishmen, into the sayd land (Ireland J they were dwel- ling in a province of Spain, called Biscan, whereof Bayou was a member and the chief citie; and that at the said Irishmen's comming into Ireland, one king Gurmonde, son to the noble king Belan, king of Great Britaine, which is called England, was lord of Bayou, as many of his successours were to the time of Henry the Second, first conquerour of this realm, and therefore the Irishmen should be the king of England his people, and Ireland his land. Another title is, that at the same time that Irishmen came of Biscay as exiled persons in sixtic ships, they met with the same king Gurmond upon the sea, at the Ties of Orcades, then coming from Denmark, with great victory, their captaines called Heberus and Hermon, went to this king, and him told the cause of their comming out of Bis cay, and him prayed with great instance, that he would graunt unto them, that they might inhabit some land in the west. The king at last, by advice of his counsel, granted to them Ireland to inhabit, and assigned unto them guides for the sea, to bring them thither!" Then follow nearly twenty such reasons, equally pleasant, all which satisfied the (pieen*s Conscience, that Q'NeiPs estate belonged of right to her!

Need any man want a title to another's land, if he fee

284 MEMOIRS OF

strong enough to take it? Is there but one king Gurmond? This was an old title to be sure; bui nullum tempi's occurrit regk Kings have long bands; and Pope Elizabeth's hands were longer than her feet; for she could lay her hands up- on many a commodious seat, where she never could set her foot.

This title of king Gurmond was turning the joke upon the three sons of king Milesius, and the descendants of the Skuthoi.

I suppose king Gurmond gave her leave to plunder the churches,, for she did it roundly; still there was no forcing the mere Irish, nor the degenerate English, to quit Saint Patrick for the Pope of London. The Roman Pope ex- communicated the she Pope and Gvrmonded all her lands; but she cared for him as little as I do for her. She man- aged so well by her deputies in Ireland, that she made a sufficient number of rebellions, and exterminated so many, and Gurmonded so many estates of O'Neil, Mahons, Geraldines and others, that she had now more commodious habitations than inhabitants, and began what was called the planting* She planted new men in the place of the old ones; living in the place of the dead, and sent over my Scotch, Welsh and English ancestors to be planted. This was like the Dutch farce, of Adam going to be created. Some of us throve pretty well, and some of us grew old before we grew good. As the plantations were of London Papists, the Roman Papists were lopped root and branch, to let us grow.

However, these weedings and plantings cost this lad} so much money and trouble; the, more so, as they were con- nected with the disgrace and execution of her lover (Essex) that she is said to have died of it, and there let her rest.

WILLIAM SAMPSON". ^35

Pope James I.

Next? comes Pope James the punster — the* knight of the marriage rinz:, and the champion of the surplice. He had underhand favored the Irish rebellions, and courted the Catholic powers to make his way to the English throne. The Irish Catholics thought it a lucky moment. They were at first flattered and cajoled, and began to say their prayers in their own way; but Mountjoy the deputy shew- ed them better, and made war upon them, saying, that with the sword of King James, he Would cut to pieces the charter of King John. And it was necessary, upon the Stewart-principle, to sacrifice the friend to the enemy. On the 4th of July, 1605, he issued a proclamation, that "whereas his majesty was informed, that his subjects of Ireland had been deceived by a false report; that his majes- ty was disposed to allow them liberty of conscience, and free choice of a religion, contrary to that which he had al- ways professed himself; b v which means it had happened that, many of his subjects of that kingdom had determined to remain firmly in that religion; wherefore he declared to all his subjects of Ireland, that he would not admit of any such liberty of conscience, as they were made to expect by that report." And thereupon his deputy (Chichester; managed so well in provoking rebellions, that the estates of the Earls Tyrone, Tyrconnel, and Sir Cahir O'Dogh- erty, and their followers, were confiscated, comprising al- most six counties; and the commodious seats were parcelled out amongst my anccsters who flocked from England and Scotland; and a great number of Presbyterians were plant- ed, who since became the most arch rebels of us all. Chi- chester was rewarded with all the, estate of Sir Cahir

286 MEM0IKS OF

O'Dogherty and the territory of Innishowen. Hie whole province of Lister was now confiscated (511,456 Irish acres) and some London traders bought a great tract, and thereupon built the city of Londonderry, where was born that degenerate traitor whose memoirs I write; and who, but for the building of that city, must either never have been born, or been born somewhere else.

In the grants to us foreigners, there was a whimsical clause, "that we should not suffer a laborer to dwell upon our lands, that would not take the oath of supremacy." Sir Walter Raleigh, in the preceding reign, had 40,000 acres granted him. But after thirteen years imprison- ment, he was in this Pope's reign beheaded. Chichester was the first that organized Protestant ascendancy-men, no Popery men, lives and fortunes-men, and peep-qf-day- boys, since called Orange-men. The Catholics sent depu- ties to lay their griefs before the king; the deputies sent deputies after their deputies, and had them imprisoned by his majesty; in whose speech to the lords of his council, in presence of the Irish agents at Whitehall, the 21st of Sep- tember, 1613, are these curious passages of royal eloquence and taslc.

"There came petitions to the deputy of a body without a head; a headless body; you would be afraid to meet such a tody in the streets; a body without a head, to speak; nay, half a body; what a monster was this! a very bug- bear! Methinks you that would have a visible body, head of the church over the whole earth, and acknowledge a temporal head under Christ, ye may likewise acknowledge my viceroy or deputy of Ireland."

And in speaking of creating new peers and boroughs, •'What is it to you, whether I make many or few boroughs:

WIXLIAM SAMPSON. 287

My council may consider the fitness if I require it; but if I made forty noblemen and four hundred boroughs, the more the merrier; the fewer the better cheer." What do vou think of the eloquence of this king?

And again, "You that are of a contrary religion must not look to be the law-makers; you are but half subjects and should have but half privileges." Whimsical arrange- ment; half privileges for natives, and whole privileges for strangers.

And again, "There is a double cause why I should be careful of the welfare of that people; first, asking of Eng- land, by reason of the long possession the crown of Eng- land hath had of that land; and also as king of Scotland; for the ancient kings of Scotland are descended from the kings of Ireland, so I have an old title as king of Scot- land."

It was in this Pope's reign that the commissioners wea'e sent to enquire into defective titles. Some old Gurmond claim was set up to every estate, and juries were summoned who, if they refused to find for king Gurmond* were tried themselves and condemned in the star chamber. In short, Pope James was so active a planter, that every thing was done to clear the ground for his plantations.

Charles I.

In- order, if possible, to understand the complicated miseries of this wretched monarch's reign, we must take a' short view of the political and religious parties in England. Scotland and Ireland,

288 MEMOIRS OE

hi England was the King-Pope and his high priest Laud* the stickler for postures, ceremonies, meats, copes and vestments; three sects of Puritans, political, disci- plined and doctrinal; Arminians, a nick-name for all their opposers; tlic parliament and the army Puritans, the royal party, Hierarchists, and many other sects besides, agreeing only in the sour spirit of bigotry.

In Scotland, the covenantee exceeding all others in hatred to loyalty and the hierarchy, and by that bond of hatred united with the Puritans, clamorous for civil and religious liberty for themselves, and intolerant to all others:

In Ireland was no spirit of innovation, but merely at- tachment to ancient constitution in church and state.

Whatever were the political griefs of any party, those of' the Irish were indisputable; and this appears from the mere names of the chiefs of the celebrated rebellion of 1G41. For at the head of them was the noble and gallant Roger Moore; a name, but that he was an Irishman, fit to occupy a nich in the temple of fame, whose ancestors pos- sessed the dynasty of Leix, and were by queen Mary dis- possessed; his friend, the son of the great Hugh O'Neil, whose father was dispossessed of Ulster; M'Guire, whose father was expelled from his territory of Fermanagh; M'Mahon, O'Reilly and Byrne, whose family had been so treacherously persecuted by sir William Parsons, after- wards impeached for his own crimes. And to these were attached all the innocent victims who, sharing the fate of their chiefs, had been confiscated in mass.

To shew the difference between the moderation of the Irish Papists, and that of our Scotch and English ances- tors, let the following extract from Hume's England suffice.

WrtLIAM SAMPSON. £80

"On reading of the new liturgy in Edenburgh, no soon*. *v had the Dean, arrayed in his surplice, opened the book, than a multitude of the meanest sort, most of them women, clapping their hands, cursing and crying out, a Pope! a Pope! Anti-Christ! stone him! raised such a tumult that it was impossible to proceed with the service. The bishop mounting the pulpit, in order to appease the populace, had a stool thrown at him; and it was with difficulty that the magistrates were able, partly by force and partly by au- thority, to expel the rabble and shut the doors against them. The tumult however still continued without. Stones were thrown at the doors and windows; and when the service was ended, the bishop going home was attack- ed and narrowly escaped from the enraged multitude. In the afternoon, the privy seal, because he carried the bish- op in his coach, was so pelted with stones, and hooted at with execrations, and pressed upon by the eager populace, that if bis servants with drawn swords had not kept them off, the bishop's life had been exposed to the utmost danger."

The Covenanters besides solicited foreign aid from Cardinal Richlieu, the French minister, whilst the Irish remained loyal to their king."

Now, of two things, one, either the Scotch were wrong

not to take the liturgy as ir was sent to them by their

king, and still more, wrong to seek foreign aid from a

French cardinal and a despotic power, however contrary

$o their conscience and belief; or the Irish were right not

tamely to surrender both their conscience and their estates,

still continuing loyal to their king. Yet strange instance

of human bigotry and depravity, these same Scotch would

allow neither quarter nor mercy to the Irish; and stranger

n n

291 MEMOIRS OV

still, Mr. Hume, that wise and philosophic historian, so little of a sectarian, that he is accused of Deism, has sur- passed his own eloquence in stigmatizing; the Irish for their resistance: and has thereby deluded and misled many an innocent and unprejudiced mind. He would have ren- dered a greater service to humanity, if at least, after ex- claiming against the cruelties of the Irish, he had censured their iniquitous plunderers, the authors of their misery and their despair.

With respect to this poor king, he paid dearly for his folly and ingratitude. There was but one party in the world true to him, the Irish Catholics; and in the true principle of his family, he sacrificed them to every one that hated him; to those in fact that repaid him by cutting off his head.

His enemies impeached his favorite Strafford with his

crimes against the Irish, not from justice towards the

Irish, whom they persecuted still more; but from hatred

to him. He defended Strafford, and was obliged to sign

his death warrant. He then sent over Ormond, a traitor

to himself, and whose rancour against the Catholics was

so bitter, that rather than make peace with them he diso.

beyed his master's orders, and brought his head to the

block; for had not his avarice and bigotry inclined him to

keep up the war, the Regicides would not have had the

power of executing their purpose. Ormond was a zealous

bigot, a cold-blooded murderer, and a mercenary traitor.

He first obtained, in consideration of the cessation so

prcssingly ordered by the king, thirty thousand pounds, and

an army of several thousand men to serve in Scotland,,

where they distinguished themselves pre-eminently; he

then refused to lead the Catholics against the king's ene

WU.LIAM SAMPSON. 9ft'l

mies in Ireland; and for a stipulated price of jive thousand pounds in hand, and two thousand pounds for five years successively, and payment of his enormous debts, surren- dered his sword, the castle, and the king's authority, to the rebels; and forged a letter from the king to give colour to his perfidy. No man was more instrumemtal to the execution of Charles, or more per fixl ions, or more atrocious to the Irish. He promised quarter to the garrison of Timolin for their gallant defence, and butchered them after their surrender, in cold blood. He laid waste whole ter- ritories without compunction, and plundered without re- morse. It is impossible to give any idea of the unceasing Cruelties of this more thru of the other reigns. But I cannot help citing the reasons of lord Castlehaven for joining the Catholic confederates, they are so like those which I have given for my own opinions. "I began to consider the condition of the kingdom, as that the state did chiefly consist of men of mean birth and quality, that most of them, steered by the influence and power of those that were against the king, that they had, by cruel massacre- ing, hanging and torturing, been the slaughter of thousand? of innocent men, women and children, better subjects than themselves! That they, by all their actions shewed that they looked at nothing but the extirpation of the nation.

To THESE I COULD BE NO TRAITOK." So said lord

Castlehaven, and so we say all !

With respect to the loyalty of the Catholics to king Charles, as an Irishman, I should rather seek for an ex- cuse for its absurdity, than proofs of its truth, unless they believed that he pitied them; and with their characteristic generosity, imputed his crimes against them to his neces- sities, to the terror of his enemies, or the perfidy of his ft®«

Mi"..\toius or

i&ters.' There is no other excuse for their folly. "To love rirjsc that persecute you,'' dues not go so far as to say. that you shall abet the murderers either of others or yourselves.

His cruelties to them were more cutting, because they were more ungrateful, than those of the Plantagenets and tlie Tudors. They would have saved him from his ene- mies, and he sold them to those enemies. They offered him money for justice, to suspend the robberies, under the searches for defective titles, to grant them toleration, by suspending the torture of their consciences by false oaths and conformity acts. He took their money, and flagitious- ly broke his word to gratify his own murderers. But Miat he was not so hardened as to be entirely without com- punction, appears from his own words in his book, entitled Eikon Basilike, with which I shall conclude this reign.

*»And certainly it is thought, by many wise men, that the preposterous rigor and unreasonable severity, which some men carried before them in England, was not the least incentive that kindled and blew up those horrid flames, the sparks of discontent, which wanted not predis- posed fuel for rebellion in Ireland; where despair being ad- ded to their former discontents, and the fear of utter extir- pation to their wonted oppressions, it was easy to provoke to an open rebellion a people prone enough to break out to ail exhorbitant violence, both by some principles of their religion, and the natural desires of liberty; both to exempt themselves from their present restraints, and to prevent those after-rigors wherewith they saw themselves appar- ently threatened by the covetous zeal and uncharitable fury of some men, who think it a great argument of the truth of their religion, to endure no other than their own.

WIIXIAM SAMFSOJf. 293

<*I would to God no man had been less affected with Ireland's sad estate than myself. I offered to go myself in person upon tha; expedition; hut some men were either afraid I should have any one kingdom quieted, or loath they were to shoot at any mark less than myself; or that any should have the glory of my destruction but themselves. Had my many offers been accepted, I am confident neither the ruin would have been so great, nor the calamity so long, nor the remedy so desperate.

"But some kind of zeal counts all merciful modera- tion, lukewarmncss, and had rather be cruel than counted cold; and is not seldom more greedy to kill the bear for his skin, than for any harm he hath done; the confiscation of men's estates being more beneficial, than the charity of saving their lives or reforming their errors. And I believe it will at last appear, that they who first began to embroil my other kingdoms, are in great part guilty, if not of the first letting out, yet of the not timely stopping those horrid effusions of blood in Ireland."

Such was the late conviction of this unfortunate martyr to the cruel rapacity of its ministers. An awful lesson!

The Lord Protector,

Never was this title of protector more undeserved, at least in Ireland. His hatred to the Irish was three-fold. He hated them from bigotry, because they did not "seek the Lord." He hated them because they were loyal to that king whose head he cut off; and he hated them be- cause they had comnwdious scats for habitations. He in-

,'i MEMOIRS OP

vitcd the garrison of Drogheda to surrender, and promised quarter, and slaughtered man, woman and child. He did the same at Wexford. He collected all the native Irish who remained, and transported them to Connaught, which had been laid waste and depopulated. According to Dar- iymple (Mem. vol. 1, page 26r) "He transported 40,000 Irish from their own country, to fill all the armies of En- rope with complaints of his cruelty, and admiration of their valour." "This," adds Darlymple, "was the first foundation of Irish corps in foreign armies." To recite all his crimes would be endless. This brings us to the restoration of

Charles II.

TfiE reign of Cromwell was a reign of terror; and Cromwell was a Robespierre. But to whom or to what cai we compare the mean ingratitude of Charles? Cicero was sacrificed to the atrocious vengeance of Mark Antho- ny, an eternal blot on the character of the Bixine Mgustus. But the Irish nation, who had suffered the extreme of mise- ry for this outcast race, were sacrificed to the obsequious passion of this wretch for the murderers of his father. When an exile in Holland, he promised every thing to his faithful Catholics, and confirmed the peace made with them by Ormond.

"When lie came to Scotland, he took the covenant, and swore that he would have no enemies but the enemies of the covenant; that he did detest Popery, superstition and idolatry, together with prelacy, resolving not to tolerate, much less to allow, those in any part of his dominions, and to endeavor the extirpation thereof, to the utmost of his power. And he expressly pronounced the peace lately

WILLIAM SAMfcSOX? 2§3

made with the Irish and confirmed by himself, to be null and void, adding that he was fully convinced of the sin- fulness and unlawfulness of it, and of his allowing them (the confederates") the liherty of the Papist religion, for which he did from his heart desire to be deeply humbled before the Lord, and for having sought unto such unlawful help for restoring him to his throne.

When this abject being was restored to the English throne, he broke his covenant, embraced Prelacy, and be- came, in every sense of the word, King-Pope of London. But though he broke his Scotch covenant, he did not keep his Irish covenant. It is enough to say, that he sought out the bitterest enemies of the Catholics to govern them. Broughill, the turn-coat, sir Charles Coote, the butcher, and the bigotted and rancorous traitor, Ormond — the Cas- tlereagh, Carhampton and Clare of that day. The first act was a proclamation for apprehending and prosecuting all Irish rebels, and commanding that soldiers and others who were possessed of any lands, should not be disturbed in their possessions. Note, these Irish rebels were the faith- ful soldiers who fought for his father under this same Or- mond; and the adventurers were the murderers of his father; and the others were Ormond, Broughill and Coote. How well these traitors profited by the miseries they ere ated, appears by this, that Ormond gained three hundred thousand pounds! a royal fortune at that day, besides places, bribes and emoluments. Broughill was made earl of Orrery, and Coote earl of Montrath; the two latter made lords justices, and Ormond lord lieutenant. Such was this witty and profligate Charles, upon whose bed his, friend and jester, Rochester, inscribed, in his life-time, this ludicrous epitaph:

;~'}0 MEMOIRS OF

••Here lies our sovereign lord the kinfis "Whose word no man relies on;

•'Who never said a foolish thing, '•Nor never did a wise one."

James LT.

Once more a Romish Monarch. The Irish rejoice, ex- ult; they hope for mitigation of their sore oppresions; they support their lawful kings, who certainly never abdicated the crown of Ireland. The support of him against a Dutchman, who had married his daughter and was driving him from his throne, was judged to be rebellion, and for the generous support of this Stewart against the fanaticism of his enemies, the rebellion of his subjects, and his own un worthiness, they lost a million of acres of their fruitful soil; and my ancestors who got them, were called tht WtUiamites.

A Dutch Pope.

Or the heads of the church, or Popes of London, none was less bigoted than this one. He even brought with him into England some of those principles of liberty, which afterwards encreased, and made that little island prosper as it has done; and the loss of which liberty, with other crimes, has brought it to its present state of danger.

I have no objection to the English celebrating the glo-

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. #97

i'ious memory of this deliverer; to deliver them from a perfidious and tyrannical race of kings, was really a deliverance; but I am an Irishman, endeavoring to write Irish history with truth and brevity. I therefore give you his health, as I have heard it drank by Irishmen,

"Here's the glorious and immortal memory of king William, who delivered us from Popery (by persecution) slavery (by conquest) brass money (by empty purses) and wooden shoes (by bare feet.") He began his reign by kicking his father-in-law from the throne, and finished it by breaking his own neck.

Pope Anne of London,

The last of the Stewarts. This weak woman, vacilT iated between whigs and tories, was forced into the perse- cution of the Irish as she had been into the act of at- tainder of her brother, and the proclaiming a reward of Jifty thousand pounds for his arrestation. In her reign, also passed the laws of discovery and those for the pre- vention of the growth of Popery, the most monstrous that had yet sullied the Irish code; and still more odious, if such crimes admitted of comparisons, by being a direct in- fringement of the treaty of Limerick between the Irish and king William.

By these laws the Roman Catholics were absolutely dis- armed; they could not purchase land; if a son, though the youngest, abjured the Catholic religion, he inherited the whole estate of his family; and if he turned discoverer,

during the life-time of his father, he took possession Qf

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298 MEMOIRS OF

his fortune, and left him and his family beggars or depen- dants, if dependance could be upon one who had violated the principles of filial duty.

If a Catholic had a horse In his possession, of whatever value, a Protestant might take it upon paying him Jive pounds.

If the rent paid by any Catholic was less than two thirds of the full improved value, whoever discovered or turned informer, took the benefit of the lease.

Barbarous restrictions were laid on educations at home, and penalties on obtaining it abroad, and the child in whose love the father had centered the hopes of his declin- ing years, was liable to be snatched from his fond arms and entrusted to a Protestant guardian, the interested ene- my of his religion and his peace. And this temptation was not only held out to adults, but to infants incapable of choice or judgment, whose tender years have no dcpend- ance but in a parent's care; no protection but in his love.

In what code, christian or heathen, can we find a paral- lel for such pollution? Would it not, in any other country, be an apology for a thousand rebellions? and would it not stamp the nation where it originated (unless England be especially dispensed from every obligation, human or di- vine) with the indelible stain of everlasting infamy?

In all countries informers are odious, and instruments only of the guilty and impure. But what code ever held out the property of the father as a bribe to the treachery of the son? "Honor thy father," is the commandment of God. "Rob thy father," that of a fiend! Yet has this law raised a trophy of immortal honor to the Irish name! for I can hear of no one instance where an Irish son has been found so base as to enter into the views of these mon-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 299

■stroiis law-givers, by trampling on the dictates of nature, of religion and of honor.

Another instance of exquisite depravity; the wife was also bribed to turn against the husband, and the principles of dissention were sown in the marriage-bed; and lest the social ties and endearing affections of the heart should -ever operate to bring about in Ireland peace, union and for- giveness, heavy penalties were inflicted upon what was grossly termed committing matrimony, where one party was a Catholic!

Now what was the crime of the Irishman? To rest sat- isfied with the religion of his fathers. What motive ex cept terror, had he to embrace the new religion? None. He knew it only by its perversion; he could not view it but with horror; for it was never presented to him but as an instrument of persecution and of spoliation. This is a strong assertion. I will support it by strong proofs of his- tory. Let us take a short view of the reformation in Ire- land.

Of the Refoi'mation in Ireland.

"At the reformation," says Spencer, "preachers were sent to them who did not know their language." "Be- sides," says he, "the inferior clergy in those days, who had the immediate cure of souls, were men of no parts nor erudition; but what is worse, they were still as immoral as they were illiterate;" and in another place he adds, "they were most licentious and disordered; and for the better reformation of them (the Irish Catholics) they put thtir clergy, whom they reverenced, to death."

SQW. &I£M0IU8 OF

By the 2d Elizabeth, chapter 2, it appears they we'rd forced to he present at the reading of the litany in a barba- rous language (for so the English appeared to them) and which they did not understand; and to complete the ab- surdity, a remedy was provided, that where the Irish priest did not know English, he might speak Latin.

In the reign of James I. it was ordered, that the bible and common-prayer-book should be translated into Irish; upon which an Irish Protestant Bishop said, laughing to his friend, "In Queen Elizabeth's time we had English bi- bles and Irish ministers; but now we have ministers come of England, and Irish bibles with them."

Might not the Irishman reply to this mockery— '-".Makes* thou thy shame thy pastime?"

"The benefices were bestowed upon the English and Scotch, not one of them having three words of the Irish tongue.*'!

Their first care was to dispossess the ancient clergy of iheir benefices; and there are some curious accounts in old authors of the successors appointed to them.

"Bishop Bonner, when he was in the Marshal sea, sent a letter by a Chaplain to the Archbishop, wherein he mer- vily related how these Bishops had ordained each other at an inn, where they met together. Whilst others laughed at this new method of consecrating Bishops, the Archbish- op shed tears, and lamented that such ragged companions' should come poor out of foreign parts to succeed the old clergy in rich deaneries, prebendaries, and canon places, who had such ill-luck at meeting with dishonest wives, as an ordinance Was put out by the queen and parliament/

* Theatre of Prot, and Cath, Religion, p. 245.

WIIXIAM SAMPSOIV. 301

that no woman should for a wife be commended to any minister, without her honesty withal could be sufficiently testified unto hiin."f

Bishop Burnet, in his life of Bedel, says, "That the bribes went about almost barefaced, and the exchange they made of peunance for money, was the worst of simony."

In the Commons Journals, 1640, the Protestant Bishops are stated "{o have exacted money for holy-water, for anointing, for mortuary-muttons, mary-galhus, Saint-Pat- rick-ridges, soul-money, and the like." And the House of Commons, in their humble remonstrance, state, "that the money taken in commutation cfpennance was not converted to pious uses, but made a private profit."

And Wentworth, who suffered for his own crimes4 calls them "an unlearned clergy* who have not so much as the outward form of churchmen to cover themselves withal, nor their persons any way reverenced."

The oaths of supremacy, conformity and uniformity, were the instruments used by the new clergy to dispossess the old. Sir Arthur Chichester was one of the most cruel and intemperate enforcers of these penalties; so much so, that in 1606, the sufferers sent over Sir Patrick Barnwell to complain to the King and Council; for which he was committed to the tower, and instructions were sent over to the Lord Deputy, not to answer for his conduct, but to send them over some answers for form's sake.^\ For they said that proceedings in matters of religion want not cap- tious eyes in that country.

fLegacy to Prot. p.

}State Letter, vol. 1, p. 187.

fDavid Curios Hibern. vol. 1, p, 482

■

02 MEMOIRS OF

If any lenity was shewn, the author of it was punished. Lord Deputy Falkland was for that reason so clamor- ed at !>y the bishops and the faction, that he was dismiss- ed with disgrace.j

The clergy did not confine themselves to ecclesiastical censures, nor the Operation of the common law. Hammond L'Estrange relates, that "the lords justiccs,#finding they were celebrating mass in Coke's street, sent the Archbishop ef Dublin, mayor, sheriffs, recorder, and a file of musPel- eers to apprehend them, which they did, taking away the crucifixes and paraments of the altar, the soldiers hewing down the images of Saint Francis. Fifteen chapels were seized to the king's use, and the priests so persecuted, that two of them hanged themselves in their own defence;" and this was at the time when the English historians say, that the Catholics enjoyed undisturbed possession of their religion.

The ancient laws against the Irish were a compound of iniquity and absurdity, marking the semi-barbarity of their authors. By the temporary constitutions made in Magna ParUamento, in the reign of king Henry VIII. By the deputy and council it was ordered, that no nobleman should have more than twenty cubits or bandlets of linen in their shirts: horsemen, eighteen; footmen, sixteen; garsons, twelve; clowTns, ten; and none of their shirts shall be died witli saffron, upon pain of twenty shillings.

Now however provoking to a nobleman to have his shirt rut by act of parliament, yet with twenty cubits he might have an ample shirt in despite of the ordonnance; but it is remarkable, that from the time that religion was

tLelawl. vol. 2, p. 48 J.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 30o

called in aid of the persecutions, the laws became inn uitelv more refined, more subtle and more diabolical; so fright- ful is religion when profaned to the purposes of villany!

The penalty of twenty shillings against the saffron - coloured sleeves, when coupled with the murders and fcoi tures inflicted by the pecp-cf-day-goxcrnment in our times upon those who wore green, shews that whatever colours or opinions were adopted by the Irish, they were alike to be persecuted. As they had wide sleeves they were per- secuted; had they narrow sleeves, they would have been persecuted. Saffron was persecuted, and green was per- secuted. Popery was persecuted; and, had they turned Protestants, they would have been persecuted perhaps more than ever the next day, and some new crime invent- ed as a pretence for plundering them, For we can hardly give the English, in queen Anne's time, credit for so much stupidity as not to perceive, after so long expe- rience, that persecutions could not prevent the ^roziih q£ Popery; for before their time it was a maxim established that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church.

Se it as it may, we shall just observe, that the Catho-

i;ow ground into dust, deprived of education and

nerty, and every means of acquiring cither, because

■A in their native country. They had no part in the nirig or execution of the laws, being excluded from the parliament and the bench, and from juries and from, tin ur. Their only duty was to bear with patience the penal- ties inflicted on them, and be spectators of the ludicrous, though interested, quarrels of their oppressors. When any question under the penal laws was tried against them, it was by a Protestant judge, a Protestant jury; and as they had a Protestant prosecutor, so they must Jiave a Pyo-

304 ME MOID 9 OF

tojtant advocate. What justice they could look ior9 Heaven knows! They were shut out from all corporations and offices, and every privilege belonging to freemen. If, a Catholic made kettles in Bride street, a Protestant who envied him, procured a corporation bye-law, that no Cath- olic should work copper in Bride street. If they petitioned they were kicked. In short, they were humbled below the beasts of the field. The law of discovery, which crowns the Popery code, was published without any pre-

nceof existing provocation or necessity; and if any thing were wanting to stamp its complexion, it is the auspices under which it passed. The royal assent was given by Thomas Lord Wharton, whose character was thus sketched by the masterly pen of Swift:

"Thomas Lord AVharton, by the force of a wonderful constitution, had passed, by some years, his grand climac- teric, without any visible effects of old age, either on his body or his mind; and in spite of a continual prostitution to those vices which usually wear out both. His behaviour is in all the forms of a young man at five and twenty; whe- ther he walks, or whistles, or swears, or talks bawdy, or calls names, he acquits himself in each beyond a templar of three years standing. He goes constantly to prayers in the forms of his place, and will talk bawdy or blasphemy at the chapel door. He is a presbyterian in politics and an atheist in religion; he bad imbibed his father's princi- ples of government, and took up no other in its stead; ex- cepting that circumstance, he is a firm presbyterian. It was confidently reported, as a conceit of his, that talking upon the subject of Irish Bishops, he once said, with great pleasure, he hoped to make his w e a b p.

"He is perfectly skilled in all the arts of managing at

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 305

elections, as well as in large baits of pleasure; for making converts of young men of quality, upon their first appear- ance; in which public service he contracted such large debts, that the ministry in England were forced, out of mere justice, to leave Ireland at his mercy, where he had only time to set himself right; although the graver heads of his party think him too profligate and abandoned, yet they dare not be ashamed of him, for he is very useful iju parliament, being a ready speaker, and content to employ his gift upon such occasions, where those who conceive they have any remains of reputation or modesty, ai^ ashamed to appear.

"He hath sunk his fortune by endeavoring to ruin one kingdom, and hath raised it by going far in the ruin of another. His administration of Ireland was looked upon as a sufficient ground to impeach him, at least for high crimes and misdemeanors; yet he has gained by the gov- ernment of that kingdom, under two years, Jive and forty thousand pounds, by the most favorable computation, half in the regular way and half in the prudential.

"He is, says he, without the sense of shame or glory, as Some men are without the sense of smelling, and therefore a good name to him is no more than a precious ointment would be to these,"

Mercy.

Mescy is allied to religion; where the latter is, the former must ever be; and the kings of England, when they ■swear to be just, swear also to be merciful Why did their

pp

306 MEMOIRS OF

counsellors, so careful of their consciences, never remind them of that coronation oath? On the contrary, we have found them ever exciting them to unrelenting cruelties, bei- cause they found their profit in those cruelties; and indeed amongst the crime* committed on the Irish hy the English, none seem more odious than their mercy.

Morrison (fol. 43) says, "that lord Mountjoy never received any to mercy hut such as had drawn hlood upon their fellow-rehels; thus M'Mahon and M'Artmoye offered to submit, hut neither could he received without the other's head." Was that religion?

And in the pardon granted to Minister, by Sir George Carew, he says himself that priests and Romish clergy were excepted. TFas that reformation?

When sir C. Wilmot took Lixnaw's Castle, he spared the priest's life only to get Lixnaw's child delivered into his hands. Was that Christian?

The English published a proclamation, inviting all well- affected Irish to an interview on the Rathmore^ at Mal- loughmartcn, and promising that no harm was intended them, and engaging for their security, they came unsus- pectingly, were surrounded hy bodies of cavalry and in- fantry, and were put to the sword. Was that just?

Lord Thomas Gray went over to London on full promise of a pardon, was arrested and executed. Lord Deputy Gray had orders to seize five of his uncles; he invited them to a banquet; they were seated with the treacherous appearance of hospitality, but immediately seized, sent prisoners to London and executed. f Was that good faith?

Queen Elizabeth, fearing, as she said herself, that the

tLelandj vol. 2, p. 153.

WIIIIAM SAMPSON. 30r

same feproach might be made to her as to Tiberius by Bato; "It is you! you! who have committed your flocks, not to shepherds, but wolves!" ordered Deputy Mount joy to grant a general pardon in Munster.

But instead of that, the most horrid massacres took place; and in order thereto a final extermination of the people was attempted by burning their corn. And Mr. Morrison says, that sir Arthur Chichester, sir Richard Morrison and other commanders, witnessed a most horrid spectacle of three children feeding on the flesh of their dead mother! with other facts even more shocking. And the Deputy and Council informed the Lords in England, by letter, that they were credibly informed, that in the space of three months, there had been above three thousand starved in Tyrone alone! f

Morrison also says, "that no spectacle was more com- mon in the ditches of towns, and especially in wasted coun- tries, than to see multitudes of those poor people dead, with their mouths all coloured green, by eating nettles, docks, and all things they could rend above ground." It would appear that tlie famine created by lord Clivc and the English in India, was nothing so terrible as this.

It is curious to see how the English historians blind themselves upon these subjects. I do not merely speak of writers, such as sir Richard Musgrave, whose absurdities defeat their own purpose. The Irish owe some obligation to the government that pays such historians to write against them. But it is incredible that a Scotch histo- rian, liberal, enlightened and learned, such as Laing, should not have shaken off such antiquated prejudices. And that he should at the same time that lie accuses, with

t Com. Journals, vol. 1,

SpS MEMGTftS Of

becotaing spirit, the cruelties and massacres Committed by

the English in his own country, be guilty of the incon* sistency of justifying the same crimes when committed up- on the Irish. lie has drawn a picture of the massacres by the array of O'Ncil, with all the glowing colours of a poet, and yet has neither cited time, place or person. He lias contradicted the most circumstantial, correct and authen- tic Irish historians, upon no better authority than certain manuscripts in Trinity College, of all other things the most suspicious, as this university was endowed with the very Confiscations that took place. These manuscripts \re moreover the same from which Temple derived Ins information, when he says, "that hundreds of the ghosts of Protestants that were drowned by the rebels at Portna- down bridge, were seen in the river, bolt upright, and were heard to cry out for revenge on these rebels." "One of these ghosts/' says he, "was seen with hands lifted up, and standing from the 29th of December to the latter end of the following lent." A principal deposition was by Maxwell, bishop of Kilmore, whose credit is principally relied on. He has described the different postures and gestures of the ghosts, "as sometimes having been seen by day and night, walking upon the river; sometimes brandishing their naked swords; sometimes singing psalms, and at other times shrieking in a most fearful and hideous manner." He adds, "that he never so much as heard any man doubt the truth thereof;" but he was candid enough to say, "he obliged no man's faith, in regard he saw them not with his own eyes; otherwise he had as much certainty as could morally be required of such matters."!

t Borlase Hist of the Irish Rebellion, Ap. fol. 392. Surely Mr. Laing is too wise to believe in ghosts!

WILlIAM SAMPSON. 30$

One word more, and I shall have wound up the history of the Popery code.

In the reign of George I. (A. D. 1723) heads of a hill were framed for explaining and amending the act to pre- vent the growth of Popery, into which was introduced a clause for the castration of all the Irish priests, and pre- sented on the 15th of November, 1714, to the lord lieuten- ant, by the commons, at the castle, who most earnestly requested his grace to recommend the same in the most effectual manner to his majesty, humbly hoping from his majesty's goodiiess and his grace's zeal for his service, arid the Protestant interest of the kingdom, that the same might be passed into a law.

It was said to have been owing to the interposition of C lal Fuelry, and his interest with Mr. Walpole, that tli )ill, which was transmitted with such recommenda- tion to England, was there thrown out. The duke of Grafton (lord lieutenant) condoled with the Irish parlia- ment upon the loss of their favorite bill; apologized for its rejection, upon the ground that it was brought forward too late in the session, and recommended a more vigorous ex- ecution of the laws against the growing evil.

I believe you will be now convinced, that the history of the universe contains nothing more atrocious than the per- secutions of the Irish by the English, nothing more repug- nant to civilization, nothing more base or more flagitious, nothing more blasphemous or more profane, bidding a bold defiance to every attribute by which the Creator has distinguished the human species fx-om the ravening beasts of prey.

With this remark I shall close my letter. I have snatched from repose and from my daily occupations, the.

MEMOIRS OF

urs devoted to tins task. The night is nearly wasted; §ie historic muse begins to droop her wing, and sleep site heavy, heavy on her votary's eye-lids. Good night.

LETTER XXXV.

Theobald Tf'olf Tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the Crimes nf the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with England— Irishmen with Irishmen.

FOUR fifths of the Irish people being now an- nulled, it can be of little importance what the other fifth may do. Still more absurd do tlieir actions appear when We see them divided into religious and political feuds, scarcely less rancorous against each other than they had all been against the ill-fated Catholics.

The dissenters in their zeal to proscribe their country men, had gulphed down the sacramental test with the bill rf discovery, and found themselves dupes of their own bigot- ry, and excluded from every honorable privilege, and eve- ry office of trust or emolument, civil or military. They found themselves oppressed with tythes for the payment of the Hierarchy; and obliged to contribute out of what re- mained for the support of their own clergy. They clam- ored, they remonstrated, they resisted in vain. They were said to be a stiff-necked faction "whom no king could govern, nor no god could please.'' It was said, and I was told by my nurse, that they were black in the mouth. They were ri&tnfed and reviled; and would probably have

W1XLIAM SAMPSON. 31 1

oeen Gnrmonded, but that the fear and hatred of the Catho- lics threw a kind of protection over them. It is not my in- tention to state all the arts of envy, hatred and malice, which distinguished these latter times. Besides I was once sworn to he true to the loins of the Princess Sophia of Hanover, and I will be true to them. Whoever wants the history of the succeeding reigns, will find it in the nick- names of the times; Whig, Tory, High-church, Low-church, Highflyer, Leveller, October-club, Clmrch ami State, Pro- testant-ascendancy, and a hundred others .insignificant enough to be forgotten, but ridiculous enough to be remem- bered. The parliament was a market where men sold themselves and their country to servitude; and the com- modities by which this slave-trade was carried on, were places, pensions and peerages; the staple was the people's misery; the tactic only was changed. To confiscations had succeeded taxes, and to violence corruption; and as to religion, there were besides the great liolUico-religiom sects, so many subdivisions, that it seemed, to use the vords of the witty author of Hudibras,

«As if religion was intended

"For nothing else but to be mended."

However, commerce, printing, and the universal growth of reason and philosophy, had opened the way to nobler ideas. The American revolution had reduced the theories of the great philosophers of England, France and other countries, into practice; and persecutors began to find themselves surprised like owls overtaken by the day. Something I might say of the Irish volunteers, not for their resistance to England, for that was not much; but for this, that they did make some honorable offers of concilia-

312 MEMOIRS 0¥

tiou to their Catholic brethren. I might say much of the unrivalled eloquence of so many Irish orators, at whose head I should place the sublime Burke, and the inimitable Sheridan; but that there was in every one of them some- thing; short of the true patriot; something tending to ex- clusion or party.

At length, however, a young man appeared, whose clear and comprehensive mind, seized at one view, the whole range of this wide field of disorder and strife; develloped the cause, and proposed the remedy for the maladies of his Fong suffering country.

Theobald Wolfe Tone

"Was born June 20, 1765. His grand-father was a Pro- testant freeholder in the county of Kildare; his father a coach-maker in Dublin. His infancy gave promise of such talents, that the cultivation of his mind was consider- ed the best fortune his parents could bestow.

He studied in the university of Dublin, where he wag early and eminently distinguislied; in the Historical Socie- ty he twice carried off the prize of oratory, once that of history; and the speech he delivered from the chair, when, auditor, was deemed the most finished on the records of the societv.

During his attendance on the inns of court in London, he had opportunities of comparing the state of the English nation with that of his own; of perceiving all the advan- tages of a national, and the degradation of a colonial gov- ernment; and there imbibed that principle which governed

WILLIAM sampson, 51

..•

him through the remainder of his life; ajid to which his life was at length a sacrifice.

In the year 1790, on his return from the temple, he- wrote his first pamphlet, under the signature of an Irish

Whig, where he thus declared his principles: **/ am no occasional Whig; I am no constitutional tory; lam, addicted to no party but the party of the nation.^

This work was re-published hy the Northern Whig Club, and read with great avidity; and the writer was called upon to avow himself; which he did, and became a member of that body.

He was complimented also by the whigs of Dublin. They proposed putting him in parliament, and Mr. George Ponsonby employed him professionally on his election and petition.

In the same year he wrote, (ian enquiry, how far Ireland is bound to support England in the approaching war," wherein he openly broached his favorite question of separa- tion; and in 1791, the Argument on behalf of the Catholics; a work of extraordinary merit.

It is remarkable, that at that time he was scarcely ac- quainted with any one Catholic, so great was the separa- tion which barbarous institutions had created between men of the same nation, formed by nature to befriend and love each other.

The Catholics, struck with admiration at this noble and

disinterested effort of a stranger, repaid him by the best

compliment in their power to bestow; he was invited to

I become secretary to their committee, with a salary of

two hundred pounds, which he accepted.

He was entrusted to draw up their petition; a mark of liberal distinction, and honorable to the Catholic body, as

<lrl

SH MEMOIR'S of

there were not wanting amongst themselves men of tran- scendant talents; and lie accompanied their delegates when ; hey presented it to the king.

The Catholic convention voted him their thanks, a gold medal, and fifteen hundred pounds!

Being so honorably identified with the great body of . iiis countrymen, his next efforts were directed to'the bring- ing about a union between the Catholics and Dissenters of the >^orth. In this he was seconded by the enlightened of both parties, and succeeded to the extent of his wishes.

The favorite project of the Dissenters was parliamenta- ry reform; that of the Catholics, naturally, their own emancipation. He rallied them both upon the wicked ab- surdity of their past distentions; upon the happy prospects of future union; shewing, that the restoration of the Cath- olics to the elective franchise, was the best security for parliamentary reform, and how insignificant all reform must be, which excluded four fifths of a nation!

In 1795, he again accompanied the delegates with their petition on tire subject of the recall of lord Fitz-William.: and when he resigned his office of secretary to retire to America, the society voted him their thanks, with a fur- ther compliment of three hundred pounds for services which they said, "no consideration could over-rate, nor no re- muneration over-pay."

The remainder of his political life cannot be better un- derstood, than by reading his speech to the court-martial, met to pass judgment on his life. (>&pp. No. III. already referred to.) At the time he withdrew from Ireland, I was but little concerned in politics, but admired him for the brilliancy and great variety of his conversation, the gay and social cast of his disposition, I loved him more be»

wiixtam sA^irsosr. 515

cause I thought him an honest man; and although it has been his fate to suffer as a traitor, I have not changed my mind. And after the hideous treasons we have just passed in review, it is grateful to find one treason at last founded upon principles of Christian charity, philosophy and rea- son. Tone was the founder of that union amongst "Irish- men of every religious persuasion" first adopted in Belfast, and afterwards throughout the kingdom, and in opposition to which, the governing faction set up the principles of a plundering mob, called "peep-qf-daij-boys" since called for more distinction "Orangemen" and raised to such a pre-eminence, that they now govern the councils in Eng- land and the conscience of the king, by the stile and title of "710 Popertj." But when upon the altar of Union and reconciliation were offered up the lives of the most virtuous Irishmen of "all religious persuasions" and that altar was cemented with their comingled blood, there was a trophy erected to the memory of Tone, more durable than brass or marble, and which neither terror, corruption, nor time itself, can shakc."f

t So true it is, that no religious party was excluded from this Union, that the established church furnished the greatest proportion of those victims with whom government broke Taith, and who were secluded in the dungeons of Fort George; and of twenty that were there, four only were Catholics; so little was this rebellion a war of Popery.

MEMOIRS OF

Of my own Crimes..

HcerIeii as I am, I cannot at this time give you a History of tlic late rebellion. The progress of the United Irishman you will find in the pieces of Irish history, given by those who had better means of knowing it; for I was long, very long, in taking any part, and never much in any secret.

Being of the favored cast, and far from having any personal griefs, the road to advancement on the contrary very open to me, I could have no motive but that of com- passion for my country. I never was inclined to political contention; and it required strong conviction to move me to sedition. But there are moments, when to be passive, is to be criminal; as when we see a murder committed be- fore our eyes, and do not stretch our hand. The griefs of Irishmen are undeniable; but when torture and every other enormity was superadded to those wrongs, the voice of a nation and the laws of God set openly at defiance, I asked myself by what tie I was bound to submit? for I had not sworn allegiance to the Prince of Darkness.

You ask me what were the crimes chiefly imputed to me? I will answer to the best of my knowledge and with truth; some writings of mine first gave offence. In 1796 I pre- dicted, in a pamphlet called Advice to the Rich, the union with England, as it afterwards happened; and endeavored to shew, that the government were stimulating the nation to rebellion for that end. I was also, at the time I was arrested, engaged to write a history of the transactions of the day.

I have lately searched through all the reports, resolu-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 317

lions and official documents of the times, and can find men- tion of my name but on two occasions. The one, when it was a question of my acquaintance with Mr. Grattan; but. at that time Mr. Grattan was in disgrace with his present friends, and it was an honor to be acquainted with him, for be was acting well. The next crime was having re- ceived seventy -Jive guineas for the defence of United Irish- men. This circumstance deserves a word or two. That very seventy-Jive guineas which I dearly earned, I receiv- ed at Down-Patrick, in 1797. Mr. Curran was specially retained for the same defences. We were but two. The judges, for more dispatch,, tried the prisoners in both the civil and criminal court; and lest we should be insufficient for the duty we had undertaken, I gave one half of my fee to Mr. Dobbs, and the other to Sergeant Ball, to engage them to assist us. This may be a crime to warrant the incarceration of an Irishman in his own country; but I am now in a country and member of a bar, by whom I shall not be worse looked upon for having done an act of charity.

Such are the answers which Irishmen can return to the virulent malice of their enemies. "When any of mine shall dare to accuse me of any other crime, I pledge myself to give as full an answer. And tiiis besides I dare affirm, that although now an exile, were the terror for one day suspended in my country, and the voices of my country- men freely taken, nine tenths would vote for my recall.

MEMOIRS OF

Of libe Crimes of the Irish Rebels.

To say that the rchels never committed any crimes, would be deservedly to lose my credit for veracity. I can only say I never saw them; but I saw and felt bitterly those committed by their enemies. And I believe there was no crime or cruelly which they could perpetrate, for which they had not ready precedents in the Irish statute books, the records of their history, and the memorable examples of their own times. They had no need to hold a parliament; it was but to substitute the word English for Irish, and Protestant for Catholic, and they had the sanc- tion of kings, lords and commons, for every possible enor- mity. Would they burn the castle of the lord? He had taught them by burning the cottage of the peasant* Would they murder the innocent? Gracious Heaven! how many pointed authorities could they not find in the murder of those they adored? Would they torture? They found irons, scourges, pickets, and pitch-caps, amongst the bag- gage of their enemies. Would they kidnap? It was but to empty the dungeons and prison-ships, let out their friends and put their persecutors in. Would they exact of men to change their religion? It was but enforcing the acts of conformity and uniformity. Was there a massacre at Scul- labogue? Was there none, after promise of quarter, and therefore more infamous, at the Curragh of Kildare? Would they put their enemies out of the protection of the law, had not their enemies already put them out of the king's peace? Would they disarm them, had they not the gnn-powder bill? Would they deny them the right of petitioning for mercy, had they not the convention bill?

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 319

Would they depopulate a province, had they not the exam- ple of Carhampton? Would they make men "tamer than gelt cats" had they not that atrocious and insolent denunciation of the Chancellor, Lord Claref to sanction themPf Would they half-hang them, had they not a thousand examples? Would they execute them by torch- light, had they not the acts of the grand-jurors of Louth: Would they violate their women, had they not the honor of their own wives and daughters crying vengeance in their ears? Would they employ against them the agency of informers and spies, the scum and refuge* of the creation, had they not Armstrong, Reynolds, Hughes, Sirr, Sands, Swan, Newell, Murdoch, Button and 0' Brian, and a myr- iad besides? Would they confiscate their estates, were those estates not plundered from themselves? Would they commit the power of life and death over their persons to the meanest and most ignorant of mankind, were not foreign mercenaries already justices of peace?\ Could there be a crime invented or named for which they had no precedent? And briefly, what had they more to do than ' open the statute book and read the acts of indemnity for these applauded deeds of "ardent loyalty and vigor beyond the law?" I will then only ask this one question: was that precept good which God revealed to man, to "do unto others as they would it should be done unto therm" Let us then learn to abhor all crimes alike. Let us not cant like hypocrites on one side, and be obdurate as devils on

t A remarkable circumstance is, that this Chancellor, by the kick of a horse, suffered a privation similar to that with which he threatened his countrymen, and died in consequence

\ To so great a length was this wonderful abuse carried on. that lord Cornwallis issued an order, that they should not, in future, act as JUSTICES, until they were of. age..

i520 MEMOIRS Ol

the other. Let us hasten to do away unjust calumnies; which serve to provoke, but never to reform. Let men be impartial, that they may enjoy peace. Let those who have been cruel, by future acts of liberal justice and un- feigned contrition, wipe away, if it yet be possible, the stings of deadly injury. The present unnatural order of human things cannot endure. The delirium of antiphiloso- phy, and the fever of antipatriotism , cannot long be sus- tained. Already the sneer of the sycophant, and sauciness of the protected jackanapes, and the insolence of the fool, begin to "stink in the nostrils of men." Out of the ca- lamities of mankind, a new order must arise. Let us raise our thoughts to the dignity of such an sera, and cease to be obstinate in unWorthiness; and let those whose ambition aims at distinction, seek it in the furtherance of human liberty and the welfare of their species.

Sut to return. Whether the rebels did act as cruelly as their adversaries, let lord Kingsborough answer; he was in their hands, and he was released, as were other men of no less power and note, who had exhausted their imagina- tion in devising and executing tortures.

At the close of the appendix, you will find a few instances of the atrocities committed upon the Irish; from which you may faintly conceive the universal misery of a country where such deeds were without number.

Summary.

Tnrs for six hundred years and more, have we seen our country exposed to never ceasing torments, and strug- gling against oppressions as cruel as absurd.

WILLIAM SAMP-SON". .321

We have seen, that it was not, as the ignorant imagine, or the crafty affect to think, in the fortuitous accidents of the times, that its late troubles had their origin.

It was a chronic malady, and the agitations of our day? were but its symptoms. The quack may assume importance from the seeming cure, but the disease still burns like a covered fire.

All nations have had their civil distentions and their wars; but Ireland has groaned unremittingly under the blighting and corrupting influence of foreign and jealous domination.

Her fruitful soil has been laid waste with fire and sword, confiscated to the profit of adventurers and plunderers, and much of it (a seeming paradox) three times' confis- cated, first in the hands of its ancient and lawful owners, and then in those of the confiscators themselves.

We have seen that country? formed by nature's hand for happiness, prosperity and universal commerce, afflicted with misery, beggary and bondage; her native inhabitants removed from the soil which their ancestors once cultivat- ed, that animals might be raised to feed a British navy, the enemy of their commerce and of the world's repose; or to nourish India planters, not an ounce of whose produce in return they could import in ships of their own nation.

The very fleeces of the flocks they fed, made prize to the cupidity of British manufacturer's; to whose selfish princi- ples the Irish manufactures have been ever' sacrificed. And on those provisions, raised at the expense of human existence, and exported from a country wherethe people starve, within the space of forty years, twenty -three em- bargoes were laid, to favor the exclusive avarice of Lead-,

522 MEMOIRS OE

cnhall contractors; and the fortunes of thousands thereby often ruined in a day.

From the stinted revenues of this wretched country, mil- lions drained annually to supply the luxuries of absentees, the most malignant of our enemies, revilers, and vitupera- tors.

A place and pension list of an extravagance so gigantic, filled by such characters (from the German Prince, down to the servile satelite of St. James') that the Livre Rouge of Versailles compared to it, would blush a still deeper red at its own paltry insignificance!

A people, victims of rapacity, naked, poor, and hungry, deprived of education, robbed of their liberty and natural rights, who lay them down in weariness, and rise but to new toils!

A debt which, in the short period of the last twenty-four years, has increased from two to sixty millions sterling/ in the contemplation of which the Irish have but one senti- ment of consolation, that in their insolvency they are se- cure. And that the prodigal, for whose use it has been raised, must answer for it with his own, and God knows how!

Union of Ireland with England — Irishmen with Irishmen.

After so many ages of civil war and carnage, how lovely to the ear sounds the hallowed name of Union,- but not that union which binds the slave to his master, the sufferer to his tormentor, the wretch to his oppressor, Not that union formed by a parliament the scourge and

WIXXIAM SAMPSON 3&B

execration of their own country, the scorn and derision of Uie minister who bought them like slaves, and jceringly pretend to have bought their country with them. Not tliat union made by those "lives and fortune's men," who had pledged themselves so sacredly to God and to their country, by tests, resolutions and oaths, to resist every innovation whatsoever in the constitution of their country, and with those declarations, in months, had ruthlessly dragged their tortured countrymen to the scaffold and the gibbet.

Think it not then, Englishmen, that because our dwel- lings are consumed by fire, and our bodies Lacerated with instruments of torture, that we are therefore united to you.

It is not because we have been in the damp and cheer- less abyses of the vaulted dungeons, 'or worn out joyless seasons in the filthy holds of prison-ships and tenders, that we are united to you.

It is not because insult and ignominy have defiled the purity of our habitations, and that scarce a virtuous fami- ly but has its beloved victim to deplore, that we should be united to you.

It is not because you have corrupted our parliament with two millions sterling, bribed our aristocracy, and dragooned our people, that we are united to you.

It is not because you have lavished the treasures, merci- lessly wrung from the hands of .suffering wretchedness, with wanton prodigality upon panders, hangmen and informers, chat we are united to you.

It is not because you have trafficked with the word of God, and treacherously inflamed the ignorant to bigotry, and the bigot to atrocity, seeking to excite amongst us every unkind and wicked^passion of the soul, that we are now united to you.

j.h MEM01B9 OF

It is not because stifling enquiry, refusing evidence, you mock us with the ghastly tonus of murdered law, and mas- sacre us in defiance of its very forms, that we are united to you.

It is not because usurping every organ of the public voice, you have, through a host of hirelings, filled the uni- verse with your injurious ribaldry, covering your own cruelties and faithbreakings with the villain's argument of necessity, or the prostituted name of Justice, that we are united to you.

It is not because, like the devoted victims of the auto da fe, you have blackened and disfigured us, lest sympathy or compassion should any where console us; exaggerated whatever vicics we may have, and which we owe alone to youy corrupting influence, and scoffed at the virtues that adorn us, that we are united to you.

It is not because every man, most honored and beloved amongst us, has been ruined and immolated: and every one most odious amongst us raised to power and office, that we are united to vou.

Believe me, those arts, but too successful heretofore, will not long suffice. The blighting shade which you had cast upon us, is hourly dissipating. The manifest con- viction of crimes, at which human nature shudders, hangs over your own heads! You are not now at war with us alone, but with the universe. Our cause already brightens through the clouds of calumny and terror. The virtuous and the generous of your own country are daily undeceiv- ed, and will with cordiality atone for the wrongs they have often ignorantly and innocently done us. Foreign nations have felt the perfidy of your alliance, the impotence of your protection, the sting of your pride! Amongst them alre»-

WILLIAM SAMPSON. S2p

dy does our suffering cause find favor! And though we do not lift a hand against you, the workings of humanity, no longer biassed nor perverted, will succour the unfortunate; and the moral force of opinion, stronger than hosts in ar- mor, will mine your cruel empire and palsy your misused power. Those of us who, to gain your favor, have be- trayed their country, will sink into contempt with the world, with you and with themselves. The trappings and mock honors with which you have invested them, like splendid liveries, will mark their servile state; nor shall the wages of their iniquities protect them from due infamy. In vain then, will you call those, dear to the cause of vir- tue and honored in their country, traitors! An impartial generation will weigh us against each other. You will be no longer our judges and accusers. Stripped of those casual honors and ill-earned distinctions which had been ours, had we not scorned to win them by corruption, we shall be measured with one measure. Then will it be seen whose stature and proportions are most goodly, whose morals are most pure, whose reason most enlight- ened, whose courage most true. If you be found then t»- excel us, it will be in vice and not in virtue, in meanness, not in dignity. And no longer will tbc love of country, which in all climes and ages has been honored as the first of virtues, be held a crime in Irishmen alone.

Tlie time may come and may be near at hand, when you may find it necessary once again to call on us to take up •arms and fight your battles.

For whom, for what should Irishmen now light? Why should the fallen be proud? Why should the slave be loftier than his state? Against whom should he shake his chains but him that hung theto on him? Go you who wear the

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spoils, fight for your booty! He is the lawful prize to hinl that wins the battle.

Who is enemy to Irishmen? A tyrant and a despot. Is it indeed? If so, we have not far to seek our enemy.

Who made the mighty despot? It was you dull minis- ters. You strewed his paths with flowers, tendered the ladder to his young ambition, and were his humbte foot- stools. He was most mighty in your littleness. He had one enemy, and only one, that could withstand him. That was Liberty! That liberty both you and he combined to stifle; but both must fall before it.

You scorned her alliance. You frighted her from off the very earth. Your pestilential breath empoisoned her. You scoffed and railed at her so wondrous wittily, that though you tlied for it you could not win her back again. But when you saw your enemy on high, and seated in the throne of mortal glory, and all the universe cry, "hail great Caesar!" amazed and stupified at your own folly, hut pertinacious still in wickedness, you thought to cure your mischiefs by new crimes. Must we too share in your inglorious warfare, infernal machinations, and your plots? Must we, who would not take your ignominious lives by undue means, become assassins now to do you service? Mast we now war against the harmless Danes? Must we bring fsre and sword into that new and happy country where all our hopes and half our kindred dwell?

Arc there no other kings to coalesce with? Have you then ruined all? Why then stand forth and fight your battles singly, and let the Irish rest in sullen peace? If liberty be truly such a jest as you have taught the world to think it is; if it be odious, felony and treason, why would you bid us now to fight for liberty? Jf we must serve a

\

WIIXIAM SAMPSON. olf

despot, let it be a splendid one and we shall be less galled, 'Fhe wretched bondsman cannot lose by changing. To him the mightiest master is the best. If we must be hum- bled, it is better still to fall before the Lion than tha. Wolf. Who is now the wolf?

But Irishmen are generous, brave and loyal. They will forgive their wrongs, forget your insults and march against the invader. Be it so. But who is this invader? Comes he with racks and scourges to scatter reeking gibbets through our land, to pike our heads as monuments of scorn? Comes he with full battalions of ivformers? Does he invite men to lay down their arms, and then break faith with them and murder them? Will he deflower our wives and burn our houses? Beware, that we mistake not friend for foe. But no! we know him by his warlike standards. He bears the picket, pitch-cop and the fire- brand. His music is, the cry of women's grief; that's our invader, that our mortal enemy; look to him well, he'll rob us of our Liberty.

But e'er we fight, go call at Edward's tomb,f cry in his ears, bid him who sleeps to wake, bid him to rise and fight his enemies. Brave as the lion, gentler than the lamb, the sparkling jewel of an ancient house, the aoblest blood of any in our land, and nobler than your king's, ran through his veins. He hears you not; he sleeps to wake no more! Of all his country, and of all he owned,

there rests no more to him than the cold grave he lies in?

Oh gallant, gallant Edward, fallen in the flower of youth and pride of manly beauty; had you lived to see

t Lord Edward Fitzgerald, brother to the late Duke of Leinster.

328 MEMOIRS OF

your country free, the proudest conqueror that wears a sword dared not invade it.

Go call his children by their noble sire to come and fight the battles of their country. What sire? what coun- try? They have no father, for you murdered him! They have no country but the green sod that rests upon his grave! You robbed their guiltless infancy, tainted their innocent blood, plundered their harmless cradles!

Go than to Crosby's tomb!f His only crime was, that he was beloved. Call Colclough, Esmond, Grogan, Har- vey, still nobler in their virtues than in their station and their ancient heritage.

Call whole devoted families, whom you have swept from off the face of their native soil; they cannot fail but rise and stand for you.

The name of Feeling will be precious to you. Call those two brothers, whose hearts in life were joined, in death united, hung on one gibbet, beheaded with one axe. Bid the two Shearses rise and fight for you, and die again together in their country's cause; they will befriend you.

There were two brother Tones, no ordinary souls. Bid them rise too from out their common grave and fight to- gether for you. He that first led his countrymen to uniofy will lewad them now to victory.

Call on the multitude of reverend men of all the various sects of Christian faith, whom you have murdered. Cali on them by the sacred office of their priesthood, and by that God, whose holy word they taught, to pray for you. But if they sleep too sound, or will not hearken, go to the

f Sir Edward Crosby, Bart.

WILLIAM SAMPSON. Sfi#

Socks they led, and they will follow you with many and many a blessing.

Call from the earth where Porter's ashes lie, the gentle emanations of his genius, the lucid beams of mild philoso- phy; you want such lights; they will be very serviceable.

Go to Belfast, and parley with the heads you there im- paled, those silent witnesses of your humanity, who gave to all that looked askance and terrified upon them, such moving lessons of your mild persuasion as won all hearts to love you; those tongueless monitors were passing elo- quent; bid them now speak for you; they will recruit you soldiers that will honor you and draw their willing sword/3 to fight your battles.

Call upon Russel, whose once gentle heart you turned to desperate madness, and slew him like a ruffian.

Invoke the crowd of brave and gallant victims, whom "inemory cannot count, nor choice select,"]; and you will have an army strong in numbers, stronger in well tried courage and in Union.

But if this cannot be, and victory declares against your ruffian banners, remember Orr! He was the first that gave his life to Union; Emmet the last that sealed it with hie blood. Their parting words may teach you how to die!

But no, you will not, dare not, die like them? You Will betray your country first an hundred times; and rath- er than meet death as men should do, lay at the con-

t See the Answer of Mrs. Tone to the Hibernian Provident Society, on receiving a medalliori presented by them in honor of her husband, where this sentiment is elegantly conveyed* (See Appendix M. XVI.)

s s

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fpieror's feet your city's charter and your monarch** frowi>.+

LETTER XXXVl.

The Irish Emigrant.

BORN in the country of affliction; his days wera dAys of sorrow. He tilled the soil of his fathers, and was an alien in their land He tasted not of the fruits which grew by the sweat of his brow. He fed a foreign land- lord, whose face he never saw, and a minister of the gos- pel, whose name he hardly knew; an unfeeling bailiff was his tyrant, and tl*e tax-gatherer his oppressor. Hunted by unrighteous magistrates, and punished by unjust judges. The soldier devoured his substance and laughed his complaints to scorn. He toiled the hopeless day, and at night lay down in weariness. Yet noble he was of heart, though his estate was lowly. His cottage was open to the poor. He brake his children's bread, and ate of it sparingly, that the hungry might have share. He wel- comed the benighted traveller, and rose with the stars of the morning to put him on his way. But his soul repined within him, and he sought relief in change, He had heard of a land where the poor were in peace, and the labourer thought worthy of his hire, where the blood of his fathers had purchased an asylum. He leads the aged

t Jeffries and Kirk were as treacherous as they were atro. clous*

WILLIAM SAMPSON, 331

parent whom love grappled to his heart. He "bears his infants in his arms. His wife followed his weary steps. They escape from the barbarous laws that would make their country their prison. They cross the trackless ocean, they descry the promised land, and hope brightens the prospect to their view; but happiness is not for him. The ruthless spirit of persecution pursues him through the Waste of the ocean. Shall his foot never find rest, nor his heart repose? No! the prowling bird of prey hovers on Columbia's coast. Wafted on eagle wings, the British pirate comes, ravishes the poor fugitive from the partner of his sorrows and the tender pledges of their love. See the haggard eyes of a father to whom nature denies a tear! a stupid monument of living death. He would inter- pose his feeble arm, but it is motionless; he would bid adieu, but his voice refuses its office. The prop of his de- clining years torn remorselessly from hefore him, he stands like the blasted oak, dead to hope and every earthly

joy!

Was it not then enough that tlus victim of oppression iiad left his native land to the rapacity of its invaders? .Might he not have been permitted to seek a shelter in the gloom of the wilderness? No! the ruthless spirit of perse- cution is not yet sated with his sufferings. The torments bf one element exhausted, those of another are now pre- pared for him. Enslaved to scornful masters, the authors of his misery, and forced to fight the battles of those his soul abhors. Death, that relieves the wretch, brings wo relief to him, for he lived not for himself, but for those more dear to him than life. Not for himself does he feel the win- ter's blast, but for those who arc now unprotected, house- less and forlorn. Where shall his wife now wander, when

33,-2 MEMoras OF

maddened with despair? Where shall his father lay his wearied hours? Where shall his innocent bahes find food, unless the ravens feed them? Oh hard and cruel men! Oli worse than hellish fiends! may not the poor find pity? What's he that now reviles them? beshrew his withered heart.

Oh Stewart! Oh West! children of genius, sons of Co- lumbia! where are now your pencils? Will you profane the bounteous gifts of nature, in flattering the mighty and the great? and withhold a nobler aid to the cause of the poor and the afflicted?

WILLIAM SAMPSON. SS'S

A LETTER

From New-York, to the Right Honorable LORD SPENCER,

His Britannic Majesty's Frincij)al Secretary of Slate.

FOR THE HOME DEPARTMENT.

Jly Lord,

According to your orders, I was land- ed in this city on the 4th of July, 1 806, by captain Sutton, of the Windsor Castle. I was sorry his majesty's minis- ters had judged it unsafe that I should be seen at Halifax, as I had need to recruit my health and to reinforce my principles. I feared to distress your lordship's humanity with the account of my sufferings, or I should have written sooner. My first sickness was the Yellow Jaundice, of which I nearly died: I was afterwards seized with the Rheumatism, and nearly lost my limbs. I am now, thank God, in good health and spirits, and shall take every means of shewing myself grateful for past favors.

The day I arrived, they were commemorating their Independence, carousing, singing republican songs, drink- ing revolutionary toasts, bonfires blazing, cannons firing* and Huzzaing for Liberty!!!

Si\ MEMOIRS ot

I was in expectation that tlic lord mayor would have brought Die military and tired on them; hut the mayor is not a lord; and I was informed he was seen drinking with some of the soldiers. They were also making an out -cry about a Yankee sailor called Pearce, that was kii'ed-qff by captain Whitby. It is a pity we hadn't them in Ire- land, we might have ten thousand of them shot in a day, and not a word about them.

I would have gone to the barracks myself to inform against them; but there was no barrack. The soldiers live in their own houses and sleep with their own wives. Nay more, they have counting-houses, clerks, ware-houses, ships, coaches, country-seats, the like was never seen amongst common soldiers.

I asked if there was no clergyman that was a justice of peace, to head the military? They shewed me a bishop, a mild, venerable looking old gentleman, that would not know which end of a gun to put foremost, fitter to give a blessing than to lead a corporal's guard, no vigor, no en- srgif. And they say the clergy dont act as justices in rhis country. Indeed the clergy here are not like certain clergy, as your lordship shall judge.

There is not a clergyman of any description in New- York, nor as far as I can learn, in all America, that can lead a concert, or play upon the fiddle, or that dances or manages an assembly, or gets drunk, or rides in at the death of a fox, or that wears a ruffled shirt, or sings a bawd}' song, or keeps a mistress: All they do is to marry the young people, christen their children, visit the sick, comfort the afflicted, go to church, preach twice or thrice on a Sunday, teach the living how to live, and the dying how to die: they are pure in their lives, uncorruptible jn

WIIXIAM SAMP90N. 335

their morals, and preach universal love and toleration; and what is more unaccountable, tl*ey have no tythes, and they live in the very midst of their congregations. If I might be bold to suggest any thing, and it would not be counted over-zealous, I could wish there was a good book written against this abuse of tythes; and I think, my lord, that Anacreon Moore would be a very proper person: It would be a good means of preventing emigration.

As to the government; at the head of it is an old coun- try philosopher. I wish your lordship could get a sight of one of his shoes, with quarters up to his ancles, and tied with leather thongs. He has neither chamberlain nor vice-chamberlain, groom of the stole nor of the bed-cham- ber, master of the ceremonies, nor gentleman-usher of the privy-chamber, nor black rod, nor groom, nor page of the privy-chamber, nor page of the back stairs, nor mes- senger to his robes, (lie has no robes) nothing but red breeches, which are now a jest, and a thread-bare one; no laundress for his body-linen, nor starcher, nor necessary- Woman. He will talk with any body, like the good-na- tured Vicar of Wakefield. If the stranger talks better than him, he is willing to learn; if he talks better, he is willing the stranger should profit He is a simple gentle- man every way, and keeps his own conscience and his own accounts; pays his own debts and the nation's debts; and has hoarded up eight millions and a half of dollars in the treasury. Your lordship will smile at such an oddity.

We do all we can to shake him, we do all we can to vex him, we do all we can to remove him. He is like a wise old Dervise. He will not he shaken, he will not be vexed, he will not be moved. If he gets up, we say he is too talk If he sits down, we say he is too short. U we think lie wiK.

S36 MEMOIRS OF

go to war, we say he is bloody. If we think he is for peace, we say he is a coward. If he makes a purchase, we say he ought to take it by force. If he will not perse- cute, we say l>e has no energy. If he executes the law, we say he is a tyrant. I think, my lord, with great def- erence, that a good London quarto might be written and thrown at his head, fie has no guards nor battle-axes, and dodges all alone upon his old horse, from the Pres- ident's house to the Capitol. There might be an en- graving to shew him hitching his bridle to a peg. The stranger in America might write the book; but he need not call himself the stranger, it appears clear enough from his works. If it could be possible to confine those works against emigration to home circulation, it would be better; they appear rather ridiculous in this country; for they know here, as well as your lordship, that people are the riches of a nation. I would humbly recommend a prohibi- tion of their exportation. If Mr. Parkinson writes any more, would your lordship have the goodness to let him know, that there has been no yellow fever since I came to America; but that in return the catadids have created great disturbance? A good work against the catadids might pre- vent emigration. Tell him, if your lordship pleases, that the butter is no better than it was when he was here; and the pigs remain unreconciled to the peaches. The timothy grass grows straight up, and so does the duck grass- apropos, the ducks here go on the water like those of Eng- land; but they swim hardest against the stream. Twelve barrels of plaister in Massachusetts go as far as a dozen in any other state; and'there is but one head upon a stock of wheat, and the grass grows rankest in the wet ground. A work of this nature may serve to prevent the lovers of

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 337

good butter and pork from coming to America, and pre- vent emigration. They boil their cabbage in fresh water, and throw the water out.

All the other departments are as ridiculous as the exec- tivej and one of his majesty's cream-coloured Hanoverian horses has more servants than their Secretary of State. They have no lords nor beggars. We must try to have beggars. A little work upon that might put things in a strong light.

Their judges are without wigs, and their lawyers with- out gowns. This might be called bald justice and stinted eloquence.

There is no energy in the execution of the law. One constable with a staff will march twenty prisoners. Your lordship knows a country where every man has a soldier to watch him with a musket.

The government here makes no sensation. It is round about you like the air, and you cannot even feel it. A good work might be written upon that to prevent emigra- tion, by shewing that the arts of government are not known.

There are very few showmen or mountebanks, a proof of a dull plodding people, all being about their own af- fairs. This might be stated to prevent idlers from coming. But as there is little temptation for that class, it is not worth a book.

They have no decayed nor potwollopping boroughs, which render ktheir parliament a stiff machine. Their candidates are not chaired, and throw no sixpences among the mob. This might be used to prevent the emigration of the mob.

I dont like their little one gun ships of the line. If they

Tt

>38 MEMOIRS OF

arc so wicked -when they are little, what will they be wheti they grow big?

I believe Decatur to be a dangerous man; I had it from the ex-bashaw of Tripoli. And Preble, I fear, is as bad; though the bashaw did not tell me so. However, if we dont come near them, they can do us no harm. I hope your lordship will not count me over-zealous in my re- marks, and that they may not be considered altogether un- worthy of your lordship's wisdom. Your lordship having been first lord of the admiralty is the best judge of gun- boats.

The inventions of this people are becoming every day more alarming. They sold their card-making machine to the English for twenty thousand pounds sterling! and now they say they can make one for fftij guineas. Might not some addresses be advisable from the Manchester fustian -weavers?

They have made a Steam-Boat to go against wind and tide, seven miles in the hour, an alarming circum- stance to the coach-making trade. A work might be written against the emigration of coach-makers and en- titled JVo Steam Boat.

The burning of Patterson Mills was very fortunate; but the Eastern and Southern manufacturers would require to be burned.

It is time the country was taken out of their hands. They are committing daily waste upon the woods, and dis- figuring the face of nature with villages, turnpikes and canals. They are about stopping up two miles and a half of sea, which they call the Narrows, though I endeavor to persuade them of the advantage of a free passage for his

WIIXIAM SAMPSON, 339

majesty's ships of war up to this city, and put before their eyes the example of Copenhagen.

That Chesapeake business has burst the bubble, and shews that many of those we counted upon here, are Ameri- cans in their hearts, and will not do any serious mischief to their own country. Their wranglings, I fear, are like those of our own whig and tory, and will profit us nothing.

But there is yet a means left. And if your lordship will send me a hundred thousand pounds by the Windsor Castle, I shall lose not an instant to set about it. It will, I hope, be no objection to my project that it is a new one; the more so, as the old ones have not succeeded very well. I should glory, my lord, to be the author of a species of civil war and discord yet unattempted, and thereby recom- mend myself to the honorable consideration of his majes- tv's ministers.

There exists, my lord, in this nation, a latent spark, which requires only to be fanned. If this be done with address, we sball have a civil war lighted up in this coun- try, which will not be easily extinguished; for the contest will be between the two sexes. If we once can get them into separate camps, and keep the war afoot for sixty years, there is an end of the American people.

The matter is briefly this: The men smoak tobacco. The ladies will not be smoaked. They say they do not marry nor come into the world to be smoaked with tobacco. The men say they did not marry nor come into the world to be scolded, and that they will be masters in their own houses. They are both in the right, they are both in the wrong. Neither is right, nor neither is wrong, according as the balance of power can be managed by a cunning hand. And under the cover of this smoak, much excellent

340 MEMOIRS OF

mischief may be done for the service of his majesty; and the war, which will be memorable in future history, may be called the cigar war. We have at once in our hands three principal ingredients of civil war; fire, smoak and liard words.

We might coalesce with our magnanimous allies, the Squaws, on the western frontiers, and a diversion on the Chesapeake would complete the whole. And I should not despair of mardiing a column of ladies, by the next sum- mer, into Virginia, and laying the tobacco plantations waste with fire and tow.

One great advantage of my project, your lordship will please to observe, is this, that whether it succeed or fail, take it at the very worst, supposing it to end as it began, in smoak, it would have a result to the full as favorable as other projects which have cost old England fifty times the sum I ask for. The very smoaking of these ladies would be a great point gained; for they have arrived at an insolent pitch of beauty; and it will be in vain that we should deter the connoisseurs and virtuosi of our do- minions from coming over here, by holding out that there are no statues nor pictures, if we suffer them to preserve such exquisite models of flesh and blood from which god- desses, nymphs and graces, may be imitated. A few re- fined souls will prefer cheeks of brass and eye-balls of stone, to the dimple of nature and sparkling glances of the laughter-loving eye. But the mass of mankind will be ever vulgar; for them canvas will be too flat and marble too hard, and flesh and blood will carry off the prize.

It is true, my lord, that the same arts are not yet so advanced in this country as in those farther gone in cor- ruption and luxury, Yet it is mortifying to see the pro-

WIELIAM SAMPSON 341

gross the young and fair ones are daily making in those delicate acquirements which give lustre to virtue and em- bellish good sense. Those arts which have now the charm of novelty and the grace of infancy, cannot fail to improve in a soil where living beauty triumphs, where the great scenes of majestic nature invite, and where history points the eye of the poet, the painter and the sculptor, to the virtues of Washington and the plains of Saratoga and York-Town. But one who passes for having good sense, avowed to me some time ago, that he would rather see a well-clad and active population, than the finest antique groupes of naked fawns and satyrs, witli a Lazeroni pop- ulace. And a thing that has raised great wonder in me is this, that some of these fair-haired Dryads of the woods have manners more polished than the shining beauties of your splendid court. Where they got it, or how they came by it I know not; but on the chaste stem of native purity they have engrafted the richest fruits of foreign cul- tivation. And as the ladies in all civilized nations will, covertly or openly, have the sway, I think these dangerous persons ought to be well watched; and I am not indis- posed, my lord, to keep an eye upon them, provided I may be encouraged by your lordship's approbation. I shall not then regret the situation in which it has pleased the wisdom of his majesty's councils to have placed me, and I shall labor to the end of my life to make a suitable return. In this view, I think it right to mention that the young ladies have imbibed French principles; some of them can express any sentiment, grave or gay, by a motion of the head, speak any language with their eyes, and tell an. affecting story with the points of their toes. Those cotil- lions, my lord, are dangerous innovations.

342 MEMOIRS Of

It is, for the reasons I have mentioned, extremely im- portant, that Mr. Weld, and the Anacreontic Poet, should write down the American ladies. The kind and frank hospitality they received from these unsuspecting fair ones, lias afforded them an opportunity of taking a noble revenge, worthy cf their masters. And if the finest genius, like the fairest beauty, is to be selected for prostitution, Moore is the man.

But if this system of detraction be followed up, you 'will do well, my lord, to keep your Englishmen at home. They will be very liable, coming over with such notions, to be surprised, perhaps put in voluntary chains. It has already happened to more than one of my acquaintance, and may befal many more.

There need come no more with toys from Birmingham, There is one Langstaff here, that has done them mischief. He gives himself out for gouty and sits writing in an el- bow-chair. When the fit leaves him he announces it in the newspapers, and appoints an hour for his visits,; all doors are thrown open, and scouts sent out to watch for him. He runs about in a yellow coatee; and in the course of the morning will have kissed the hand of every pretty lady in town. It provokes me to see a little fellow lie in a lady's work-basket, and make laughing sport of grave men. And it makes me feel more mortified at mv own rowing corpulence, lest my bulk should be no recommend- tion in the eyes of the fair, whose favor is the chief ob- ject of my wishes; I shall therefore, before the evil grows worse, go immediately to press, be squeezed into the gen-

t The native patriotism of this delightful poet, since this was written, has burst forth in strains that redeem every error and cancel every fault.

ation

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 343

teelest form I can, and then pay my respects to the ladies, and to your lordship. Meantime i" have the honor to be.

With all due gratitude for past favors, My Lord, Your Lordship's much obliged, And very devoted humble servant,

WILLIAM SAMPSON.

APPENDIX.

No. I. — Page 20. Informers Hanged by their Employers,

William Kennedy was prosecuted for being aiding and assisting to an armed mob. The principal witness against him was lieutenant Heppenstal, noted alike for cow- ardice and cruelty. It was he who called himself the walking-gallows, from his custom of strangling men with a rope drawn over his shoulders. To support his testimo- ny, a witness named Hijland was produced, who swore that he knew the prisoner; but that, by the virtue of his oath, he never knew any harm of him. It appeared from the cross examination of the walking-gallows, that he had knocked this Hyland down, and drawn a rope very tight about his neck, but could get nothing from him. Never- theless Hyland was ordered off the table. A bill of indict- ment was sent up to the grand jury. He was tried, con- victed and sentenced instanter.

Under the impression of this terror, the trial of the pris- oner, Kennedy, proceeded, and he was found guilty. But en account of his good character and the polluted nature of the evidence, several gentlemen, grand jurors and oth» #rs, presented a petition in his favor. It appeared also^

UH

346 APPENDIX.

that one of the petty jurors, who refused to find him guilty, was threatened to he thrown out of the window. Kennedy, notwithstanding, was also sentenced to death and executed.

The judge was Toler, now lord Norbury, the same to \\ hom Robert Emmett said in his defence, that if all the blood he had shed was collected into one great reservoir, he might swim in it. And who, on another trial, uttered that inhuman raillery, "that if the person put to death was innocent, he was gone to a better world; if guilty, justice had been done."

(JjF'Heppenstal since died of rottenness, at a very early period of life.

O'BRIEN.

The following short extracts from Mr. Curran's speech on the defence of Patrick Finney, are well worth the at- tention of the reader, who may be curious to know to what necessities a profligate system of oppression against the gen- eral interest and feelings of a people leads:

"Oh honest James O'Brien! honest James O'Brien! Let others vainly argue on logical truth and ethical false- hood, if I can once fasten him to the ring of perjury, I will bait him at it, until his testimony shall fail of pro- ducing a verdict, although human nature were as vile and monstrous in you as she is in him

Shall the horrors which surround the informer; the fe- rocity of his countenance, and the terrors of his voice, cast such a wide and appalling influence, that none dare ap- proach and save the victim which he marks for ignominy and death?

"Are you prepared, when O'Brien shall come forward

APPENDIX. 347

against 10,000 of your fellow-citizens, to assist him in dig- ging the graves, which he has destined to receive them one by one?

"I have heard of assassination by sword, by pistol and by dagger, but here is a wretch who would dip the Evan- gelists in blood! If he thinks he has not sworn his victim to death, he is ready to swear, without mercy and without end; but oh! do not, I conjure you, suffer him to take an oath! The arm of the murderer should not pollute tlie purity of the gospel; if he will swear, let it be on the knife, the proper symbol of his profession! ......

"At this moment, even the bold and daring villany of O'Brien stood abashed; he saw the eye of Heaven in that of an innocent and injured man; perhaps the feeling was communicated by a glance from the dock; his heart bore testimony to his guilt, and he fled for the same! .....

"You find him coiling himself in the scaly circles of his cautious perjury, making anticipated battle against any one who should appear against him; but you see him sink before the proof.

"He assumes the character of a king's officer, to rob the king's people of their money, and afterwards, when their property fails him, he seeks to rob them of their lives! . .

"This cannibal informer, this daemon, O'Brien, greedy after human gore, has fifteen other victims in reserve, if from your verdict he receives the unhappy man at the bar! Fifteen more of your fellow-citizens are to be tried on his evidence! Be you then their saviours; let your verdict snatch them from his ravening maw, and interpose between yourselves and endless remorse!"

(^J°This villain was not punished, but was rewarded for his manifold services, until he became not merely use-

■iriS APPENDIX.

Less, but dangerous to his masters; then he was hanged for a very ordinary murder, namely, tor having killed aft old sick man. ( See further, Jlpp. No, 9.)

No. II. — Page 34.

Massacres of the Curragh of Kildare and Glencoc

General Dfndas, when at his head-quarters in Naas on the 24th of May, received a message from a body of the Irish, that they were willing to surrender their arms, provided one Perkins should be liberated from prison, and they all permitted "to return home in peace. The general, after writing to the castle for instructions, ratified the con- dition. And a few days after, a large body who had sur- rendered their arms, were cut to pieces at Gibbet-Rath, on the Curragh. The only pretext which bears any colour of truth was, that one of the rebels was foolish enough to discharge his gun in the air before he delivered it. This was done by lord Jocelyn's fox-hunters, under the orders of sir James Duff, who had written that morning to gene- ral Lake, that he would make a dreadful example of the rebels. No reprimand was ever given nor enquiry made, and doubtless the act was much applauded. (Seethe Rev. James Gordon's History of the Rebellion, p. 101; and Plowden, vol. 4, p. 341.)

Having mentioned the massacre of Glenco, it might be worth while to remind the reader of that odious crime, which has this affinity to that of the Curragh, that both

APPENDIX. 349

were executed by treason, and in defiance of that good faith which savages respect; and that, in one as in the other, the actors were not only unpunished, but preferred. That shocking story of Glenco, is thus briefly related by an intelligent and unprejudiced writer*. — -"A proclamation was published in autumn, 1691, which declared that all rebels who took the oaths of the government, before the first of January ensuing, should be pardoned. All the at- tainted chieftains of the Highlands, except M'Donald of Glenco, took the oaths before the time prefixed. Upon the last day of December, he went to Fort William, and desir- ed the oaths to be tendered to him by the governor of the fortress, who, as he was not a civil magistrate, refused to administer them. M'Donald then went to Inverary, the county town, to take them; but by bad weather was pre- vented from reaching it, till the term prescribed by the proclamation was elapsed. The sheriff scrupled at first, but was prevailed upon at last to receive his allegiance. Advantage was taken of M'Donald's not having complied literally with the terms of the proclamation, and a warrant for proceeding to execution was procured from the king, which was signed both above and below with his own hand. Sir John Dalrymple, the secretary, gave orders that the execution of it should be effectual; and without any previ- ous warning. For this purpose, in the month of February, two companies went, not as enemies, but as friends, to take quarters in the valley of Glenco, where all the clan lived. To conceal the intention the better, the soldiers were of their own lineage, Highlanders of Argyle's regi- ment. They were all received with the rude, but kind hos- pitality of the country. They continued in the valley near a fortnight; and then in the night-time rose to butcher

350 APPENDIX.

their hosts! Captain Campbell, of Glcnlyon, who was un- cle to the wife of one of M'Donald's sons, and had supped and played cards with M'Donald's family the night before, commanded the party. Thirty-eight men were slain. The rest would have shared the same fate, had not the alarm been given by one of M'Donalds sons, who over- heard one of the soldiers say to another, <he liked not the work; he feared not to fight the M'Donalds in the field, but had scarcely courage to kill them in their sleepj but that tiieir officers were answerable for the deed, not they.' This execution made the deeper impression, because the king would not permit any of those who were concerned in it to be punished, conscious that in their case his own was involved.*' Sir John Dalrymple's Memoirs, vol. I. p. 213, Dub. ed.

"As a mark of his own eagerness to save secretary Dalrymple, king William signed the warrant both above and below with his own hand. In the night, lieutenant Lindsay, with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly manner at M'Donald's door; he was instantly admitted. M'Dor.ald, as he was rising from his bed to receive his guest, was shot dead behind his back with two bullets. His wife had already put on her cloaths, but she was stripped naked by the soldiers, who tore the rings off her fingers with their teeth. The slaughter became general. To prevent the pity of the soldiers to their hosts, their quarters had been changed the night hefore; neither age nor infirmity was spared. Some women in defending their children were killed. Boys imploring mercy were shot by officers on whose knees they hung. In one place nine persons, as they sat enjoying themselves at table, were shot dead bv the soldiers. The assassins are even said to have

APPENDIX. 351

made a sport of death. At Inveriggen, in Campbell's own quarters, nine men were first bound by the soldiers, then shot at intervals, one by one. Several who fled to the mountains, perished by famine and the inclemency of the season. Those who escaped owed their lives to a tem- pestuous night. Lieutenant-colonel Hamilton, who had the charge of the execution from Dalrymple, was on his march with four hundred men, to occupy all the passes which led from the valley of Glenco, he was obliged to stop by the severity of the weather, which proved the saiei./ of the unfortunate tribe. He entered the valley the next day; he laid all the houses in ashes, and carried away all the cattle and spoil, which were divided among the officers and soldiers." Macpherson's Hist. vol. 1. page 628-9 — Dub. ed.

A still more interesting account of this black transac- tion is in Garnet's Scotland, vol. 1, p. 288; but it is too long for the present purpose.

No Irishman, I believe, ever read this story without the strongest sympathy with the unfortunate victims of royal and ministerial cruelty. It should be hoped that Scotch- men are not less generous towards Irishmen, when it is their turn to be betrayed and suffer. Those that are not, are undeserving of the name of Scotchmen; an honora- ble name when truly merited.

$5% . APPENDIX.

No. III.— Page 46.

Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone,

To the Court-Martial, assembled to pass sentence on

his life.

Saturday, Nov. 10,1798.

Mr. Tone was made prisoner on board the French ship of war the Hoche. A former Court-Martial had been named, hit was dissolved by the lord-lieutenant, as there were several officers appointed, whose regiment were under sailing orders. On the day of the trial, the doors of the

. Dublin Barracks, where the court met, were at a very early hour beset by an immense crowd of all descriptions of persons, who, as soon as they were open, rushed in*

Tone appeared in the uniform of a chief of brigade. The firmness and serenity of his deportment, made even his bitterest enemies feel the greatness of his mind.

The judge advocate informed the prisoner, that the lord lieutenant had established this court-martial, to try whether he had acted traitorously and hostilely against his majesty, to whom, as a natural-born subject, he owed allegiance. And he was called upon to plead guilty or not guilty.

Tone. — I shall not give the court any useless trouble, I admit the facts alleged, and only ask leave to read an ad- dress which I have prepared for this occasion.

Colonel Daly — Warned the prisoner, that in admitting the facts, he necessarily admitted, to his own prejudice, the having acted treasonably against the king.

Tone.— Stripping this charge of its technical forms, it

APPENDIX. 353

means, I presume, that I have been taken in arms against the soldiers of the king in my native country. I admit the accusation in its utmost extent, and desire nothing further than to give my reasons.

The Court — Was willing to hear him, provided he con- fined himself within the limits of moderation.

Tone. — Mr. President and gentlemen of the court-mar- tial, I do not mean that you should waste your time in proving, according to law, that I have borne arms against the king's government in Ireland; I admit the fact. From my tenderest youth I have considered the union of Ireland with Great-Britain as the scourge of the Irish nation. And that the people of this country can have nei- ther happiness nor freedom whilst that connection endures. Every day's experience, and every fact that arose, con- vinced me of this truth; and I resolved, if I could, to sep- arate the two countries. But as I knew Ireland could not of herself, throw off the yoke, I sought for help wherev- er I could find it.

Content in honorable poverty, I have refused offers, which to one in my circumstances, might seem magnifi- cent. I remained faithful to the cause of my country, and looked for an ally in the French Republic, to free three millions of my countrymen from ........

Here he was interrupted by the President

and Judge Advocate, who observed that this discourse tended not to justify himself so much as to inflame the minds of certain men ( United Irishmen J of whom doubt- less numbers were present.

Tone. — Unconnected with every party in the republic, without protector, money or intrigue, the frankness and integrity of my views soon raised me to a distinguished

w w

3j4 APPENDIX.

rank in the French army. I enjoyed the confidence of the government, the approbation of my general, and I dare assert it, the esteem of my brave comrades. Reflecting upon these circumstances, I feel a confidence, of which no reverse of fortune, nor the sentence which you are so shortly to pronounce, can rob me. If I enrolled myself under the banners of France, it was with the hope of con- tributing to the salvation of my native land. From that same and single motive, I encountered the dangers of war fn a country not my own, and on seas which I knew to be covered with the triumphant fleets of a government whom it was my glory to resist.

I have courted poverty; I have left without a protector a beloved wife; and without a father, children whom I adored. To such and to so many sacrifices, in a cause which my conscience still tells me was a just one, I have little difficulty now to add that of my life.

I hear it said that this country has been a prey to hor- rors. I lament it, if it is so. But I have been four years absent, and cannot be responsible for individual sufferings. It was by a frank and open war that I proposed to sepa- rate the countries. It is unfortunate, that private ven- geance on one side or on the other, should have consider- ed itself authorised to mingle its fury i» the contest. I grieve for it as much as any other, but I am innocent of all these calamities; and to all those who know any thing of my sentiments or character, justification on that head would be very useless. But in vulgar eyes, the merit of the cause is judged by its success. WASHINGTON CONQUERED— KOSKIUSKO FAILED!

After a combat nobly sustained, which would have in- spired a sentiment of interest in a generous enemy, to the

APPENDIX. 355

eternal shame of those who gave the order, I have hceu dragged hither in chains. I speak not for myself in this. I know my fate right well. But the tone of supplication is beneath me. I repeat it again. I admit all that is alleged againt me, touching the separation of Ireland from Great-Britain. Words, writings, actions, I avow them all. I have spoken and I have acted with reflection and on principle; and now with a firm heart I await the conse- quences. The members who compose this court, will doubt- less do their duty, and I shall take care not to be wanting to mine.

This discourse was pronounced with an accent so digni- fied, as deeply affected every hearer, the members of the tribunal not excepted. A silent pause ensued, which Tone first interrupted, by asking if it was usual to assign an interval between the sentence and the execution? The judge advocate answered, that the members would imme- diately give their opinions, the result of which would be forthwith laid before the lord-lieutenant. If the prisoner therefore had any further observations to make, it was now the moment.

Tone. — I have a few words to say relative to the mode of punishment. In France, the emigrants who stand in the same situation as I do now before you, arc condemned to be shot. I ask, then, that the court should adjudge me to die the death of a soldier, and that I may be shot by a platoon of grenadiers. I ask this, more in right of my i situation as chief of brigade in the French army, than for my own sake. It is a respect due to the coat I wear. And I shall therefore beg of the court to read my commission and letters of service, by which it will appear that I do not

<»

56 APPENDIX.

avail myself of any deception or subterfuge, but that t have been long and bona fide a French officer.

The Jiulgc Advocate. — You must feel, sir, that the papers you allude to, are undeniable proofs against you.

Tone. — Oh I know it well, and I admit the facts, and I admit the papers as proofs of full conviction!

[The papers were then read. They were, a brevet of Chief of Brigade from the Directory, and signed by the Minister of War; a letter of service, giving to Tone the rank of Adjutant-General, and a passport.]

General Loftus. — By these papers you are designated as serving in the army of England (l'Armee d'Angleterre.)

Tone. — I did serve in that army, when it was command- ed by Bonaparte, by Dessaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as I am, an Irishman; but I have also served elsewhere.

General Loftus. — The court will not fail to submit to the Lord Lieutenant the address which has been read by the prisoner, and also the object of his last demands. His lordship, however, took care to efface a great part of it, namely, that which Tone was prevented from reading.

The sequel is well known. Mr. Tone, finding that he was to be executed in the same savage manner as his brother had been a lew days before, found means to disap- point his enemies, and chose the manner of his death.

[And thus perished Theobald Wolfe Tone, a man of im- questioned personal honor, of heroical courage, of 2/ie most amiable character, and of talents, which, for the same reason that they drew upon him the sentence of a traitor in Ireland, would, in any other countryt have raised him to tJte highest distinction.] For some ac- count of his wife and children, see Appendix No. 16,

APPENDIX. 35?

Nq. IV.— Page 48.

The following document will shew the nature of those peep- qf-day, Orange, or A^o-popery-men, who at present gov- ern the king's conscience, and consequently his councils throughout the empire. The encouragement of them, and their acts of ruthless persecution, were among the principal means which the ministers hoast of having used, to bring about rebellion, and through rebellion,

UNION.

Armagh, December 28, 1795. At a numerous meeting of the magistrates of the county of Armagh, convened this day, at the special instance of Lord Viscount GOSFORD, Governor.

His Lordship having taken the chair; opened the busi- ness of the meeting, by the following Address:

gentlemen;

HAVING requested your attendance here this day, it becomes my duty to state the grounds upon which I thought it advisable to propose this meeting, and at the same time to submit to your consideration, a plan which occurs to me as most likely to check the enormities that have already brought disgrace upon this country, and may soon reduce it into deep distress.

It is no secret, that a persecution, accompanied with all the circumstances of ferocious cruelty, which have in all ages distinguished that dreadful calamity, is now raging in this country. Neither age nor sex, nor even acknowledg- ed innocence, as to any guilt in the last disturbances, is suf- ficient to excite mercy, much less to afford protection,,

18 APPENDIX.

The only crime which the wretched objects of this ruth- Jess persecution arc charged with, is a crime indeed of easy proof; it is simply a profession of the Roman Catholic Faith, or an intimate connexion with a person professing that faith. A lawless banditti have constituted judges of this new species of delinquency, and the sentence they have pronounced is equally concise and terrible; it is noth- ing less than a confiscation of all property, and immediate banishment.

It would be extremely painful and surely unnecessary, to detail the horrors that attend the execution of so wide and tremendous a proscription, a proscription that cer- tainly exceeds in the comparative number of those it con- signs to ruin and misery, every example that ancient or modern history can supply. For where have we heard, or in what story of human cruelties have we read, of mora than half the inhabitants of a populous county, deprived at one blow of the means as well as the fruits of their indus- try, and driven in the midst of an inclement season, to seek a shelter for themselves and their helpless families, where chance may guide them?

This is no exaggerated picture of the horrid scenes now acting in this county. Yet surely it is sufficient to awaken sentiments of indignation and compassion in the coldest bosom. These horrors, I say, are now acting, and acting with impunity. The spirit of partial justice (without which law is nothing better than an instrument of tyran- ny) has for a time disappeared in this county; and the supinencss of the magistracy of Armagh, has become a common topic of conversation in every corner of the king- dom.

It is said in reply: The Roman Catholics are danger-

ArPEtfDix. 359

ous; they may be so; they may be dangerous from their numbers, and still more dangerous from the unbounded views they have been encouraged to entertain. But I will venture to assert, without fear of contradiction, that upon those very grounds, these terrible proceedings are not more contrary to humanity than they are to sound policy.

It is to be lamented, that no civil magistrate happened to be present .with the military detachment on the night of the 21st inst. but I trust the suddenness of the occasion, the unexpected and instantaneous aggression on the part of the delinquents, will be universally admitted as a full vindication of the conduct of the officer and the party un- der his command.

Gentlemen, I have the honor to hold a situation in this county, which calls upon me to deliver my sentiments, and I do so without fear and without disguise.

I am as true a Protestant as any gentleman in this room or in this kingdom. I inherit a property which my family derived under a Protestant title, and with the bless- ing of God, I will maintain that title to the utmost of my power. I will never consent to make a sacrifice of Protest- ant ascendency to Catholic claims, with whatever mena- ces they may be urged, or however speciously or insidi- ously supported.

Conscious of my sincerity in this public declaration, which I do not make unadvisedly, but as the result of ma- ture deliberation, I defy the paltry insinuations that mal- ice or party spirit may suggest.

I know my own heart, and I should despise myself if un- der any intimidation I should close my eyes against such scenes as present themselves on every side, or shut my ears against the complaints of a persecuted people.

560 APPENDIX.

I should be guilty of an unpardonable injustice to the feelings of gentlemen here present, were I to say more on this subject. I have now acquitted myself to my conscience and my country, and take the liberty of proposing the following resolutions:

1st. That it appears to this meeting, that the county of Armagh is, at this moment, in a state of uncommon disor- der. That the Roman Catholic inhabitants are grievously oppressed by lawless persons unknown, who attack and plunder their houses by night, and threaten them with in- stant destruction, unless they immediately abandon their lands and habitations.

2d. That a committee of magistrates be appointed, to sit on Thursdays and Saturdays, in the chapter-room, in the town of Armagh, to receive information respecting all per- sons of whatever description, who disturb the peace of this county.

3d. That the instructions of the whole body of the magistracy to their committee shall be, to use every legal means within their power to stop the progress of the per- secution now carrying on by an ungovernable mob against the Roman Catholic inhabitants of this county.

4th. That said committee or any three of them, be em- powered to expend any sum or sums of money for infor- mation or secret service, out of the fund subscribed by the gentlemen of this county.

5th. That a meeting of the whole body of the magis- tracy be held every second Monday, at the house of Mr. Charles M'Reynolds; in the town of Armagh, to hear the reports of the committee and to give such further instruc- tions as the exigency of the times may require.

6th. That offenders of every description, in the present;

APPENDIX.

m

disturbances, shall be prosecuted out of the fund subscrib- ed by the gentlemen of this county, and to carry this reso- lution into effect; be it also resolved, that Mr. Arthur Ir- win be appointed law-agent to the magistrates.

The above resolutions having been read, were unani- mously agreed to, and the committee nominated.

Lord Gosford having left the chair, and the right hon- orable sir Capel Molyneux requested to take it,

Resolved, That the unanimous thanks of this meeting be presented to Lord Viscount Gosford, for his proper con- duct in convening the magistrates of the county, and bis impartiality in the chair.

Gosford,

Capel Molyneux, William Richardson, William Brownlow, A. J. M'Cann, Sovereign, Robert B. Sparrow, Alex. Thos. Stewart, Michael Obins, Hugh Hamilton, Joseph M'Gough James Verner, Richard Allot, Stewart Blacker, John Reilly,

Samuel Close, John Ogle, William Clarke, Ch. M. Warburton, Wm. Lodge, Wm. Bisset, Thomas Quin, Owen O'Callagliaxi, John Maxwell, William Irwin, James Harden, James Lawson, William Barker, Robert Livingston,

xx

3tiS APPENDIX* -

No. V.— Page 58. LORD CJSTLEREJG&.

Robert Stuart, at the general election in 1790, set himself up for representative of the county of Down, against what was called the Lordly Interest; and in order to ingratiate himself with the popular party, took the fol- lowing oath or test upon the hustings, as a solemn compact between him and his constituents, namely,

"That he would regularly attend his duty in parliament, and be governed by the instructions of his constituents.

"That he would, in and out of the house, with all his ability and influence, promote the success of

"A bill for amending the representation of the people.

"A bill for preventing pensioners from sitting in par- liament, or such placemen as cannot sit in flie British House of Commons.

"A bill for limiting the number of placemen and pen- sioners and the amount of pension.

"A bill for preventing revenue officers from voting at elections.

"A bill for rendering the servants of the crown of Ire- land responsible for the expenditures of the public money.

"A bill to protect the personal safety of the subject against arbitrary and excessive bail, and against the stretching of the power of attachment beyond the limits of the constitution."

REMARK.

Compare that test with the test of the United Irishmen,

APPENDIX, 363,

and there is not so much difference that the taker of the one should he exalted on a gallows, aud the other to a peer- age. The only difference is this: He that continued true to his test, was hanged; and he that was foresworn hanged him.

Now if ever there was a proof of the lamentable effects of a colonial government, it is this, that the most perfidi- ous should always be selected for favor and power; as if it was a principle of government, not only to deprive the subjects of their liberty, but also, by pernicious examples, of their morals; and above all, to trust no man until he had made his proofs of baseness.

When the habeas corpus was to be suspended, could no other be found to execute arbitrary imprisonment, but he who had sworn to oppose "all arbitrary stretches of pow- er?" When the parliament was to be annihilated, could no man be found so fit to destroy it as the man who had sworn to defend its independence and its purity?

How many of those whom lord Castlereagh swore to protect against imprisonment, he has since imprisoned ar- bitrarily, and betrayed to the most cruel sufferings, may be better known hereafter; his biography will be written. Jt is time that false honors should cease to varnish trea- son; and that lying and forswearing should cease to pass for talents and merit. Does it require so much genius to lie, and is it so meritorious to betray? If so, let it be pro- claimed aloud to all mankind. The field of genius may be much enlarged; honest men will cease to be troublesome, and thieves will have due honor. It is much to be wished, for the repose of mankind, that a great convention should be formed upon this head: That all may submit, or all, re- bel together,

3

M AITENftlX

No. VI. — Page 70.

WILLIAM HENRY CAVENDISH, Duke of Portland, one of his Majesty's honorable Privij Council, and Princi- pal Secretary of State, fyd fyc. <§r.

To all Admirals, Vice-Admirals, Captains, Command- ers of His Majesty's Shins of War or Privateers, Govern- ors, Mayors Sheriffs. Justices of the Peace, Constables, Customers, Comptrollers, Searchers, and all others whom it may concern. Greeting: These are, in his majesty's name, pursuant to the authority vested in me by his Maj- esty in this behalf, to will and require you to permit and suffer the bearer hereof, William Sampson, Esq. freely and quietly to go from hence to Falmouth, and there to em- hark and pass over to Lisbon, without any lett, hindrance, or molestation whatsoever; Provided the said person do

embark within — after the date hereof, and sail,

wind and weather permitting, or otherwise this pass shall remain no longer in force. Given at Whitehall, the thh>

teenth day of December, 1798.

PORTLAND.

APPENDIX $65

No. VII.— Page TL

FROM the (London) courier. The following petition was presented to his Majesty at the Levee, by Mr. Fo;v. TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY,

The humble petition of the undersigned, freeholders of the

county of Down.

May it please your Majesty; "We, your Majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects, take this opportunity of expressing our loyalty and attach- ment to your Majesty's person and family, and those prin- ciples which placed them on the throne of these realms; and, at the same time, of declaring, that, in such a period as the present, we should think it little short of treason to be silent on the state of this your majesty's kingdom of Ireland. It is not merely of a long, disastrous, unjust and unnecessary war, which has destroyed, public credit, commerce and manufactures, we complain: Your majesty, in your wisdom, must have perceived the evil consequences of that war through every part of your dominions. It is not the melancholy waste of blood and treasure of which we complain; because those calamities cannot be remedied; but we beg leave to approach your throne with a plain un- exaggerated state of our present grievances. Ever since the administration of the great lord Chatham, almost all good and wise men have concurred in the absolute neces- • sity of a parliamentary reform, as well for the security of

SGO APPENDIX.

the throne as the people. Your majesty's present minis- ter has given lessons to the empire on that head, which can never he forgotten; and the ruin which has accompa- nied his deviation from that principle has demonstrated the necessity of that measure. The dutiful and loyal petitions of your people have not been attended to. The most con- stitutional and loyal means of seeking redress have been opposed by the most unconstitutional and illegal coercions. Every right, for the establishment of which our forefathers shed their blood, and for the protection of which your maj- esty's ancestors were called to the throne, has been suc- cessively taken away by the undue influence of your ma- jesty's present ministers; the right of petitioning greatly invaded by the convention bill; the trial by jury, by sum- mary convictions, under the most unconstitutional laws, the liberty of the press and the freedom of speech, by the shameful encouragement of spies and informers; the right of habeas corpus has been suspended; and the great right,. which is the security of all other rights, the right of bear- ing arms, has been grossly violated, not only by a series of laws repugnant to the written and acknowledged com- pact between the crown and the people, expressed unecmiv- orally in the bill of rights, but in a late instance by an act of state avowedly illegal. AVe therefore humbly intreat your majesty to dismiss from your councils and presence, your present ministers, as the first step towards restoring peace, prosperity and happiness to this distracted country, and thereby firmly securing the interests of the crown and people, which are both at present in the most alarming danger; and we further intreat your majesty immediately to call such men to your councils as may assist your people in obtaining a reform of parliament, embracing every re-

APPENDIX. 367

ligious persuasion, as the sure and only means of rendering this kingdom prosperous and happy.

AR. JOHNSTON, Chairman, ED. POTTINGER, Secretary. By and on the behalf and at the desire of four thousand eight hundred and three freeholders of the county of Down, who subscribed their names to the above petition.

No. VIII.— Page 75.

(f^The reader is, to avoid repetition, in consequence of the increasing bulk of the work, referred to No. X, where will be found the substance of what was intended for this number.

No. IX. — Page 77.

The /Mowing lesson of policy and humanity offered hy a hired informer to the government that suborned him, is un- paralleled in history.

LETTER OF MR. BIRD,

To the Lord-Lieutenant, Earl Cambden. My Lord, In as few words as can convey my meaning, I will ex- plain the object of my application, which I am pretty sure will be deemed a very ill-timed one. In a letter which I

9 APPENDIX.

caused to be delivered to Mi*. Cooke, I candidly made known my reasons for quitting a situation which I could not think of without horror! the consequence of which was, that two persons escaped a fate to which they had hecn long since doomed by anticipation; that point gained, although a very important one, by no means satisfies me, Messrs Nelson and Russel arc yet prisoners; and your lordship's great knowledge of lawr precludes the necessity of my asserting, that there is no kind of change whatever, which could by any means be supported against those gentlemen. Then why, my lord, hold honest men in cap^ tivity, without even the shadow of a crime to adduce? Why irritate the public mind, already goaded nearly to desperation? Such conduct, my lord, is as base as it is impolitic; spurn such actions as you ought; give perempto- ry orders for the instant liberation of the persons before mentioned, and you will acquire an honest popularity, infinitely more grateful to a feeling heart, than the barren adulation of that venal throng, whose baneful advice at present guides your lordship's steps; and who, if suffered to proceed, will lead you to inevitable ruin! The gratitude of those individuals will induce them to place their freedom purely to your lordship's benevolence, as they are utterly ignorant of this application in their behalf; and I further assure your lordship, that they ever shall remain so, if my request be now granted.

Your lordship's native goodness will, I hope, incline you to pardon the freedom of my style. The importance of the subject throws etiquette at a distance; and ceremony from me would be mere buffoonery. My mind is intent on weightier matters, and let me incur what censure I

APPENDIX. 389

may, I am determined to restore those gentlemen to their freedom, or lose my own in the attempt.

I seriously intreat your lordship not to suppose I would deign to use empty menace to attain my purpose. No, I scorn so mean a subterfuge; and did you but know the adamantine foundation on which I build my hope of suc- cess, yon would not, my lord, for a single moment, hesitate between right and wrong, justice and tyranny; but would instantly comply with my just request.

Should the enormous power, the lively craft of your wicked counsellors, prevail over the dictates of honor in your lordship's breast, then, my lord, am I irrevocably determined to place in lord Moira's hands, such docu- ments as shall strike your boldest orators dumb, and raise through the three kingdoms such a tornado of execration, as shall penetrate the inmost recesses of the Cabinets of London and of Dublin!

If your lordship can find no better way to unravel the mystery, apply to Kcmmis, the crown solicitor, perhaps he'll tremble; but he can inform you of what it is I speak, and which your honor and your interest demand should be eternally concealed, or honestly explored!

I now take my final leave of your lordship, in whose breast it remains to decide on as important an event, take it all in all, as ever presented itself to your consideration. I am, my lord, with the utmost respect,

Your Excellency9 s most obedient humble servant,

J. BIRD. P. S. If the gentlemen herein mentioned, are not restored to liberty within three days from the delivery of this letter to your excellency, I shall conceive it a direct denial, and take my measures accordingly.

yy

jfO APPENDIX,

letter of the same to me. kelson

Sir,

In what language to address a gentlemen, whom I have so very deeply injured, I scarcely know; but with the purest truth I can assure you, sir, that though plunged in a dungeon, deprived of every comfort tyranny could wrest from you, separated, for ought you know, eternally sepa- rated from your wife, your children, friends and home, your property devastated, your health and vigor drooping beneath such an accumulated load of misery and woe; still, sir, had you known my real state of mind, it was infinitely less to be envied than yours. Happiness has to me been a stranger ever since the fatal day when poverty, and some- thing worse, urged me to accept the wages of infamy. How those men may feel themselves, in whose hands I have been an instrument of ruin, I cannot say; but I strongly suspect, could the secrets of their hearts be ex- posed to your view, they would not be more the objects of your scorn than your pity!

The first gleams of happiness, which for twelve months lias visited my breast, have been since I have ceased to rank among the number of those sanguinary monsters, who are in fact destroying that very system they are striving to support. You, sir, will shortly be restored to that liberty which your life has been hitherto devoted to procure for others; and if yon can then think of me without horror or disgust, it is as much as I can expect, more than I deserve. Great have been the pangs of remorse I have endured, when reflecting on the situation of your amiable wife and unprotected offspring; nor did the state of poor Shanagban's family distress me less; they, I fear,

APPENDIX. 371

suffered more than yours in some points; but 'twont bear

reflection. I shall only further take the liberty of remarking, that

if my utmost exertions to serve the men I was hired to destroy, can entitle me to pardon from you and from them, I should once more feel myself restored to peace and hap- piness. I beg, sir, you will excuse the liberty I take, and believe me, if you can, when I assure you that no man more fervently wishes you every blessing Providence can bestow, than the person who for a time robbed you of all comfort on earth.

J. BIRD,

LETTER OF MR. UEWEII TO ME. COOKE,

Under Secretary of State. Sir, As I hope in a few days to present you with my history in print, I shall not trouble you much at present, as in it you will see my reasons for deserting, and for first becom- ing one of the Battallion of Testimony, on mature reflec- tion I am confident you must say to yourself, I have acted right. I shall not pretend to say I am beyond your power, but should you even arrest me, you will find my heart was never afraid to end the project I had once began. You well know, not a friendship for government, but my affec- tion for the Murdock family, was my reason for becoming an informer; that attachment having ceased, the tye that bound me to you was no more, and I am again what I then was. Connected with Murdock, J xvas a villain, hxtf un- connected with him. cease to be so.

An Englishman dared to act honestly, and shall a native of Ireland, whose sons are renowned for their honor and their courage, he out-done hy that nation which we find in general produce only men of diabolical and vicious princi- ples? Though I can't deny being a villain, I hope clearly to prove, I had the honor of being made so by you, though you did not inculcate enough of your principles to make it lasting. I think you will now be tired of the business of information, and I assure you you will shortly have no occa- sion for it. Think how disgraceful must appear your con- nections and support, when even spies and informers scorn and fly their association, and throw themselves on the for- giveness of their injured country, for being awhile con- nected with such miscreants. I hope you will now acquit me of the charge of want of feeling. I return you thanks for the numberless favors you have conferred on me, and assure you, that I would not exchange one single hour of my present happiness, for ten thousand times the sums you have already lavished on me. I have no occasion now for pistols, the propriety of my present behaviour is guard, enough; the forgiveness of my country, its reward; every honest man is my friend; and for the other part of the community, their esteem is a disgrace. My bosom is what it has not been this long time, the seat of contentment, and I thank my God for having saved me from impending ruin.

EDWARD JOHN NEWELL.

N. B. This was the same Newell who wore the mask and carried the wand. (See page 78.) He was the gal- lant of Mrs. Murdock. He, with Murdock and Dutton, composed the triumvirate, whose exploits Bird revealed in

APPENDIX, 373

bis confessions, signed by Mr. Grattan, and stated by lord Moira in the Irish house of lords, as "having made his blood to curdle."

No. X.— Page 85.

BELFAST RESOLUTIONS.

At a meefnig of tbe inhabitants of Belfast, held by ad- journment on the 2d of January, 1797, from the former meeting of the 31st of December, 1796, the committee chosen by the said meeting having agreed to the follow- ing resolutions, recommended them to their townsmen for adoption.

COUNSELLOR SAMPSON IN THE CHAIR.

1st. Resolved, that the imperfect state of the representa- tion in the house of commons, is the primary cause of the discontent in this country.

£d. That the public mind would be restored to tran- quility, and every impending danger effectually averted by such a reform in parliament, as would secure to population and property their due weight in the scale of government, without distinction on account of religious opinions.

3d. That a determination firmly manifested on the part of government, to comply with the great desires of the people, would be productive of the happiest effects, inas- much as it would conciliate the affections of the people, whose object is reform alone, and thereby constitute tbe only rampart of defence, that can bid complete defiance to the efforts of foreign and domestic enemies.

4th. That such a change in the system of government

S74 APPENDIX.

"would give to property, law, religion, and the necessary distinction of rank, additional stability and weight, and that no opinion can be entertained by the people so danger- ous, as the despair of succeeding in their constitutional exertions to obtain the most t important objects of their wishes.

5th. That we conceive a constitution by king, lords and commons (the commons being then reformed) when wisely and honestly administered, capable of affording every happiness a nation can enjoy.

6th. That we arc ready, if permitted by government, to arm in like manner as the volunteers, whose memory we revere, and whose example we wish to imitate.

Resolved, That the chairman be requested to wrait upon the sovereign with a copy of the resolutions, and to request him, in the name of the meeting, to communicate the same to the lord-lieutenant, and solicit permission for the inhab- itants of this town to arm themselves agreeably to the same resolutions.

REMARK.

The chancellor, lord Clare, in the house of lords, on the 17th of the same month, adverting to these resolutions; made use of the following intemperate expressions:

"To say nothing of the affiliated 'United Irishmen, a- vowedly associated to support the enemy, I will recal to your lordship's recollection, the daring insolence of some of those persons in the great commercial town of Belfast, where a meeting was lately held, at which resolutions of so treasonable a nature were entered into, as to make us amazed at the mildness of government in not punishing the authors/'

APPENDIX. 375

Now in the first place, the author of these resolutions was lord O'Neil, a man of ancient rank and standing in the country; whereas lord Clare's grand-lather was a Roman Catholic priest, and his father a student of St. Omeis, destined originally for the same profession, and who had, it is said, been actually tonsured!

Lord O'Neil, who was once greatly beloved in the coun- try, had at this time lost his popularity, by joining with the Clare faction, and afterwards, a fact deeply to be la- mented, lost his life in the battle of Antrim. And was then one of the acting privy counsellors, sitting at the same board with lord Clare, and signing the same proclamations and acts of coercion.

Lord O'Neil had wished to have these very resolutions adopted by the county of Antrim, as measures of concilia- tion; but in the exasperated state of the public mind, he despaired of accomplishing it. It was in the interval of the adjournment, that some friends of lord O'neil, moderate men, and good government men, had put these resolutions into my hands, with intreaties that I would use my endea- vors to have them passed by the committee of the town. I was not in the secret of the French alliance, and had no other motive under Heaven, than to assuage the violence of party, to prevent the impending massacre, and if possi- ble to keep the door open to reconciliation, and prevent a civil war. But though I did not know that the French had been invited, I knew very well that the governing fac- tion were meditating the revolution, which they afterwards effected, .under the name of Union. The implacable ran cor of lord Clare against me, could have then no other mo- tive than that I stood in the way of a darling massacre, and was anxious to promote peace. And certainly, if eve?

376 APPENDIX.

there was an action that deserved the praise of moderation, it was that one for which I was thus virulently denounced. If I am now less moderate, it is not because my personal feelings have been injured, for I am still willing to sacri- fice what remains of my life and fortune to the advantage of my country; but it is because my eyes are open to the futility of expecting any benefit to Ireland from those who govern her. Had conciliation been compatible with the views of those men, they would have commended my en- deavors, and the declarations of the state prisoners exam- ined by lord Clare himself, would have been convincing proofs how well I acted. ( See pieces of Irish Hist, p. 228.J

No. XI.— Page 89.

HUMANITY PUNISHED WITH DEATH,

From the relations of Mr. Hay and the Reverend Mr. Gordon.

Different courts-martial were instituted in Ross, Enniscorthy, Gorey and Newtown-Barry and several persons were condemned and executed, and others were sentenced to transportation. Among those who were con- demned to be executed, I cannot avoid noticing the case of the Reverend John Redmond, a Catholic priest, who, it seems, during the insurrection, had done all in his power to save the house of lord Mountnorris from being plunder- ed, which he in some degree effected, but not at all to the extent of his wishes. Lord Mountnorris, however, to prevent the possibility of his being supposed by any one in future a friend to Catholics, sent for Mr. Redmond*

APFENIilX* 57"

upon finding that he was present at the plundering of his house, desiring that he would come to him directly. The reverend gentleman, conscious of his own integrity, and apprehensive of no danger, as involved in no guilt, obeyed the summons without hesitation; but his instantaneous hasty trial, condemnation and execution, were the reward of his humane and generous exertions. His body, after death, underwent the most indecent mutilations.

It is a melancholy reflection to think how many inno cent persons were condemned. I have heard of numbers, of whose innocence the smallest doubt cannot be entertain- ed, whose conduct merited reward instead of punishment: yet they fell victims to the purest sentiments of philanthro- py, which dictated their interference: these have been per- verted by their enemies, who are also those of the human race, into crimes utterly unpardonable. Is this any thing less than arraigning benevolence and humanity, the most amiable qualities of the soul of man, as criminal and atro- cious? But every man's breast, whatever be his principles, will tell him, with irresistible force, that crime and atroci- ty lie at the other side. From personal knowledge of the circumstances, I knew five or six who were innocent of tho charges and of the deeds sworn against them, and who still were condemned and executed. In these turbid and' distracted times, I have seen persons sunk so much below the level of human nature, that I do believe they were not capable of judgment or recollection, which accounts to me in some degree for the various assertions, even testimonies on trials, and affidavits made by different persons, who might as well relate their dreams for facts.

Mr. E. Kyan, whose courage and humanity deserved a better fate, was taken near Wexford, on his return home

z z

378 APPENDIX.

in the night, tried, condemned and executed the next day; far although manifest proofs appeared of his humanity and interference, so conspicuously effectual on the hridge of Wexford, on the 20th of June, 1798, yet this was insuffi- cient to save him, as he had arms about him when appre- hended. His fate is the more lamentable, as Mr. Fitz- Gerald, on surrendering to General Dundas, had secured the same terms for Mr. Kyan as for himself; so that had any circumstance interfered to delay his execution for some time, the life of a brave man would have been saved. C See Haifs Insurrection, pages £66 — 7 — 8 — 9 — 70, and Gordon's History of the Irish Rebellion, pages 186 — 7. And Vlowden, vol. 4. J

A very remarkable saying is recorded of one of the rebel prisoners, who thanked God that no one could accuse hint of having saved the life or property of any body.

REMARK.

It is difficult for an American reader to conceive, why he that shewed mercy, or endeavored after peace, should be most obnoxious. But if it be remembered, that the beginning of this civil war was the recal of lord Fitzwil- liam; if it be kept in mind that the dispute between the English cabinet and that viceroy, turned not so much upon the Catholic question as upon the apprehension that Mr. Beresford was * 'filling a situation greater than that of the lord-lieutenant," and upon the necessity of his dismissal, and also the dismissal of Messrs. Wolfe and Toler, the two public prosecutors; then it will be felt why these men, who by force of the king's conscience remained in office, in despite of the public wish, and whose emoluments and importance grew out of the public calamities, should dread peace, reform or conciliation; to all or either of

APPENDIX. 379

which, their fortunes and ambition must of course be sacrificed. Again, if we look to the origin of these gen- tlemen to whose ascendancy a wretched people have been sacrificed, we shall be less astonished that they should maintain their present elevation by every means. If I am rightly informed the grand-father of the Beresfords came from England to follow his trade of an Inkle-weaver in Coleraine; and the enormous fortunes of that family are nothing but the plunder of the miserable Irish whom they have scourged, hanged and massacred, in order to silence their complaints. Ask who is the marquis of "Waterford or lord Tyrone? Ask who is lord Castlcreagh or lord Lon- donderry; who is lord Norbury; who was lord Earlsfort, and so many other lords whose origin is as obscure? Ask when and for what virtue they were irradiated with such high glories? Alas! their virtue, of all virtues, was their enmity to Ireland and their corrupt and violent endeavors to keep her in misery, disunion and subjection; and there- fore their worst enemy was the reformer or the peace- maker, the oppressor their natural ally.

No. XII.— Page 148.

Certificate of Mr. La/argue.

I, Anthony Laiargtie, marine agent of the French Republic for the exchange of French prisoners of war at- Lisbon, certify, to all whom it may concern, that TFilliam Sampson, of Ireland, and his servant of the same nation, embarked on board of the Danish ship called the Die Iloif-

380 ArPE.\Dix.

mmg, captain Lars .Tansen, were put on board that ship by order of the intendentc-gcneral of the police of this city, for reasons of state; and I attest, that these two men have no employment whatsoever on hoard of the said vessel. In witness whereof, I have signed this present certificate, and sealed it with my seal. Done at Lisbon the 9th of Floreal, 7th year of the French Republic, one and indi- visible.

ANTHONY LAF ARGUE. CSeal.J

No. XIII.— Page 160.

drrete Motive.

Extract from the deliberations of the Municipal Adminis- tration of the Commune of Bayonne.

Sitting of the I4ik Messidor, fifth year of the Republic, one and indivisible. Present, the citizens Sauvinet, jun. President; Andrew Durvergier, Louis Bertrand, Domi- nick Meillan, James Lacoste, Laurent Garaij, Municipal Administrators; and P. Basterrcche, Commissary of the Executive Directory.

The municipal administration of the commune of Bayonne, having considered the different proofs adduced by Mr. William Sampson, of Ireland, shewing that he had been forced successively to leave Ireland and Portugal; and that the ship which landed him at Passage, was destined for Bordeaux,

APPENDIX. 381

Considering, tliat if it is important to the safety of the republic to shut out such strangers as are under suspicion, or pertubators, it is also its duty to grant protection to all the victims of despotism.

Considering, that it results from the various proofs, pro- duced to us by Mr. William Sampson, that he was pro- scribed in his native country, and afterwards in Lisbon, on account of his sentiments of liberty, and tbe zeal with which he had asserted it in the midst of atrocious persecu- tions.

Considering, finally, that it may be essential, under the existing circumstances, to give to the government a knowl- edge of those who arc capable of informing it, touching the situation of its enemies; and that in this view, Mr. William Sampson, so well known in the annals of Ireland, may be able to offer very useful instruction.

Having first heard the commissary of the executive di- rectory, decree, that Mr. William Sampson bo permitted to Paris, passing by Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitier, Tours, and Orleans, under the condition that he present himself to the constituted authorities of the communes, to have the present passport examined; and that he present himself, on his arrival at Paris, before the minister of the general po- lice, who will be apprised of his intention by the municipal- ity of Bayonne.

Compared Copy, (Seal.) The Mayor of Bayonne,

LACROIX RAVIGNAN.

REMARK.

It will be clear to every intelligent or candid reader, how easily I might have recommended myself to high fa-:

&82 APPENDIX.

vor. I did not choose to do it, for my independence was dearer to me than cvciy thing. I hoped, hcsidcs, that the violent empire of terror in my native country might have Subsided, and that I might still, perhaps, have been of use in its pacification. Those, I am sure,' who would have cried treason if I had accepted of this offer, will laugh at my simplicity. And I know further, that to them my con- duct will never he agreeable, whilst it is dignified or honorable.

I am sorry, however, to be obliged, at length, to con- form to the sentiments of Mr. Tone; that there never can be happiness or liberty for Ireland, whilst that connection, which is her scourge, subsists. It is now, alas! too well demonstrated by proofs of stupid pertinacity.

My memorial to the municipality of Bayonne would* beyond every thing, have put my enemies to shame. But although I sincerely believe it to be in possession, by means which I am not free to mention, I am sure they will never do me the justice to produce it. If it was on the contrary a piece tending to my crimination, it would have been public long ago.

No. XIV.— Page 162.

INTERROGATORS S,

Before the Bureau Central of Bordeaux.

This day, the first of Thermidor, seventh year of the French Republic, one and indivisible, appeared before us, administrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bor-

APPENDIX. 333

deaux, the person hereafter named, whose interrogatories and answers were as follows:

Question. — His age, place of nativity, profession and last domicil?

Answer. — William Sampson, thirty-five years of ago. born in Londonderry, in Ireland, counsellor at law; present residence in Bordeaux, at the hotel de la Providence, in the street Port-Dijeaux.

Q. — How long he had been in Bordeaux, and1 what were his means of subsistence?

Ji. — About twelve days; his means of subsistence, a small sum of money, which he brought from Portugal, and what he can in future procure from the disposable property which he has in his own country.

Q. — From whence and for what he came to Bordeaux?

A. — That being by his profession of advocate, bound to respect the laws and rights of his fellow-citizens, his zeal in their maintainance against the oppressions of the tyran- nical government now exercised by England in Ireland, had brought upon him all sorts of persecution. He was long imprisoned; his life exposed, like that of multitudes of his fellow-citizens, to hourly danger. The details of all he underwent would be too voluminous to be inserted in these interrogatories. He confines himself at present to the following facts, viz. that he was compelled to leave his country, and to go to Portugal with the condition of re- maining there during the present war, and to give security in two thousand pounds sterling, not to leave that kingdom. That some weeks after his landing at Oporto, he was ar- rested and conveyed to Lisbon, where he was imprisoned and made to endure the cruellest vexations, and finally em- barked on board a Danish vessel, as he was told,, for Ham-

384 APPENDIX.

burg. But that the vessel was in fact bound to Bordeaux, and is now arrived in tins port.

Q.—To relate more particularly for what cause he was transported into Portugal, made prisoner in Oporto and Lisbon, and there embarked. What was the name of the vessel and of the captain?

./?.— That amongst other things from the time that fhe English government declared war against France, lie had manifested by his writings and all legal means, his aver- sion to their motives of hostility. Conceiving that it was no just cause of war, that another nation chose to make alterations in its government. 2dly. The desire which he had manifested in common with his fellow-citizens for the reform of the parliament, the dismissal of the ministry, and peace with France. Sdly. The arbitrary, tyrannical and cruel acts which the English government practised in manifest violation of the rights of the people of Ireland. 4thly. That he had constantly demanded a trial, which was refused him, for that it was judged better to proceed arbitra- rily against him, as well to prevent his justification as the exposure of the manoeuvres of his persecutors. 5thly. That he presumes that it was for the same reasons he was arrested at Oporto, and conducted to Lisbon, in order to deprive him of all correspondence; and that for the same reasons, in the same arbitrary manner, he was forceably embarked on board of the Danish vessel, the Die Hoff- nung, captain Lars Jansen; and further he adds, that the English and Irish papers had not ceased to publish absurd and contradictory calumnies and falsehoods respecting him, and the motives of his detention.

^.—Whether the Danish vessel had brought him direct- ly to Bordeaux?

APPENDIX. 385

A. — After being forty -three days at sea, and all thf* provisions consumed, the captain was obliged to put into St. Sebastian. That he had often, on account of his bad health, solicited the captain to put him on shore, which he refused; that he took the resolution there to make the rest of his way by land to avoid a repetition of the same suffer- ings; and that his design was merely to follow the destina- tion of the ship, in which he had been embarked with his effects.

Being no further interrogated, and the present being read to him, he affirms the truth of his answers as therein contained, and thereto signs his name.

WILLIAM SAMPSON,

PIERRE BALGUINE, Admr.

BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau.

INTERROGATORY OF FRANCIS RIVET.

This day being the 4th of Thermidor, in the 7th year of the French Republic, one and indivisible, we the admin- istrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bordeaux, caused the citizen Rivet to appear before us, who was in- terrogated as follows:

Q. — His name, surname, age, place of nativity, and last domicil?

Jl. — His name is Francis Rivet* age forty years; native of Nantes, lodges at the Hotel de la Providence.

Q. — Desired to communicate all he knew touching the case of William Sampson of Ireland.

«#.— The first he heard of him was when he was himself

3A

386 aitendix.

in prison at Lisbon, by means of his gaoler, who had gone to the prison of the said William Sampson, to serve as his interpreter in interrogatories which he then under- went. And the said gaoler told the deponent, that the cause of the imprisonment of the said person was, that he was Irish, and his principles suspected by the Portuguese government. Deponent further says, that about fifteen days after, he was transported with the said William Sampson from Lisbon to the prison of Belem, near Lis- bon, where they contrived, by address, to speak together, then he found that he was the same person of whom his gaoler had spoken; but another fortnight elapsed before they could obtain permission to converse freely together, and that was only on the day previous to their quitting the prison. On the day fixed for their departure, without a moment of preparation, they were obliged to embark in a boat belonging to the government, escorted by agents or officers of the police, who conducted them on beard of the Banish vessel, named the Die Huffnung, captain Lars Jansen, who had then already weighed anchor, and was proceeding to sea.

Q. — If he knew, on embarking, for what port the ship was bound, or at what time he came to that knowledge?

Jl. — From what he was told, as well by the gaoler of Belem as by the chief agent of the police, who took him, together with the said Sampson and his servant, on board the said vessel, he supposed they were going to Hamburg, and their passports being for that port, confirmed him in such belief. It was not until three days after they left Lis- bon, that the captain, who till then had kept it secret, de- clared to them that he was going to Bordeaux, and shewed his papers, which left no further doubl.

a APPENDIX. 387"

q. — If lie could give any further information touching William Sampson?

A. — That he, together with the said "William Sampson, often insisted most earnestly with the captain, that he would put them on shore, wherever he could find it practi- cable, and engaged to follow the destination of the vessel, and even to leave their effects on hoard, as a security and proof of their intentions. This latter proposal was made in-order to free the captain from the terror with which he seemed to be impressed, and the fear he was under of arriving without his passengers at Bordeaux; but that it was all in vain; for that he never would consent to come near the land, until he was finally forced by a total failure of provisions to put into St. Sebastian. He adds further, that considering the generosity of the French nation, and the embarrassing position in which the said William Sampson stood, owing to the perfidious measures of persecution dk yected against him, he had been the first to encourage him with the prospects of a favorable reception from the con- stituted authorities; and that deponent advised him, that it was now much safer for him, under the circumstances of his case, to follow the destination given him, than to stop- at any other place.

And being no further interrogated, &c.

Signed) 4*c.

i APPENDIX,

INTERROGATORY OF CAPTAIN 1ARS JANSEN,

The Third Thermidor, $c.

((. — His name, surname, ago, where born, and of what profession?

JI. — Lars Jansen, forty-two years of age, native of Fins- burg, in Denmark, captain of a vessel.

Q. — The name of the vessel he commands?

J.— The Die Hoflnung.

Q. — How long he has been at Bordeaux?

JI. — Since the 22d Messidor.

Q. — Whence he came last?

Ji. — From St. Sebastian.

Q. — How long he remained at St. Sebastian?

Ji. — Six days.

Q. — How long he had been at Lisbon?

J\. — About twenty -three days.

Q — «If during his stay there, he had not received on board his ship William Sampson of Ireland?

Ji.— Yes.

Q. — If he received him willingly or from constraint?

Ji. — By force, and by virtue of an order from the Porta- guese government.

((.— If the said William Sampson was conducted on board by an armed force?

A. — That he was brought on board in a Portuguese boat, by a number of persons whom he did not know.

({. — If when he left Lisbon he was bound for Bordeaux or for Denmark?

Ji. — That he was bound to Bordeaux and no where else. * *

Q. — If he told William Sampson that he wus bound to Bordeaux?

♦

APrENDIX, 389

A. — That after he was on board he told him, but not till he was at sea.

Q. — For what reason he put into St. Sebastian?

Jl. — On account of a contrary wind and want of provis- ions, which were exhausted by a passage of forty-three days.

Q. — Whether the same persons who had conducted the said William Sampson on board, had given to him, the deponent, certificates, and to the said Sampson his pass- port?

A. — Yes; the moment the vessel got under way and was proceeding to sea.

Being no further interrogated, the present being read to him, he maintains the truth of his answers as therein contained, and signs, together with the interpreter thereof.

BINAUD,

SAMPSON,

PIERRE BALGUERIE, Admr. BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau.

(j^My servant, John Russel, was also interrogated in confirmation of the above facts. The originals of all the documents adduced as vouchers of this memoir, are in my possession.

a

390 APPENDIX.

No. XV.— Pagb 204.

MY PASSPORT FROM PARIS TO HAMBURG.

Prisoners of War-— No. 1324.

WAR DEPARTMENT — FRENCH REPCBLiqUE.

In the name of the French Government.

To ALL OFFICERS, CIVIL AND MILITARY, charged

with the maintenance of public order in different depart- ments of the republic, permit Mr. Sampson (William) freely to pass (with his wife and two cliildren,) born at Londonderry in Ireland, forty years of age; of the height of one metre, seventy -six centimetres; hair and eye-brows dark brown, (chatains bruns) high forehead, large nose, hazel eyes, mouth middle size, round chin, and face oval; going to Hamburg, without giving or suffering to be given to him any hindrance. The present passport, good; to go to Hamburg and return to Paris.

Granted at Paris, the 27th Germinal, 13th year of the republic.

Signed,

WILLIAM SAMPSON. BERTHIER, Minister of War.

Approved by the minister of the police.

FOTJCHE.

AKPENDIX. SJi

No. XVI Page 329.

MATILDA TONE.

This admirable woman is of a family which moves in the gcnteelest circles of her country. Her name was Witherington. At sixteen years of age she made a match of love with Theobald Wolfe Tone, then a youthful student. This marriage produced a separation from her family, which only served to increase the tender affections of hot husband. He bestowed much time upon her education, and had the delicious pleasure of cultivating the most noble, refined and delicate of minds. "Content," to use his own words, "with honorable poverty" they might be truly called a happy couple. But fortune, which delights in splendid victims, blasted their early joys. Mrs. Tone re- mained at her husband's death, in Paris, with three young pledges of their love. The estimation in which Tone was held, and her own merit, had attached to her interest many powerful friends. But with the arts of intrigue her noble mind could never be familiar, she retired from the notice of the world. The most elegant encomium ever pro- nounced on woman, was that which Lucien Bonaparte bestowed upon her, in recommending her case and that cf her children to the attention of the French Councils.

Her two sons were, in right of their father, received into the national school of the Prytannee, and her charm- ing daughter, educated in the midst of a dissipated city, with the purity of an angel, became the sweet companion, and soother of the sorrows of a widowed mother. But she, like a fair blossom untimely nipped* gloomed at once,.

392 APPENDIX.

and faded. She died in the dawn of loveliness, and felt no pang in death hut for the sufferings of the mother she adored. Another child of promise soon followed, no less beloved, no less regretted; and fate, not satisfied with so much cruelty, threatened to hereave her of her remaining comfort. It was to avert that last stroke of angry destiny, that she lately made a voyage to America; and in the city of New- York a society of her affectionate country- men seized upon the unexpected occasion, and presented her with the following tribute to the memory of her hus- band, and her own virtues.

In pursuance of a resolution of the Hibernian Provident So- ciety of the city of JVew-Forfe, a committee waited on Mrs. Tone, on Saturday last; and in the most respectful manner presented her a Medallion, with an appropri- ate device and inscription; and to her son (a youth of sixteenj a Sword, accomjmnied with the following ADDRESS:

Madam, We are appointed by the Hibernian Provident Society of New- York, to embrace the opportunity of your presence in this city, to express to you their very profound respect for the character and memory of your late illustrious husband, General Theobald Wolfe Tone, and their affectionate at- tachment to his widow and son. To many of our society lie was intimately known; by all of us he was ardently beloved; and while we look back with anguish on the frightful calamities of our time and country, we delight to dwell on his talents, his patriotism, his perseverance, and his dignity in misfortune. Accept, madam, a testimonial of their esteem, which can pretend to no value, but what it

APPENDIX. S90

4"ii&y derive from the sincerity with which it is offered. In some other country, perhaps, it may awaken the reflec- tion, that wherever Irishmen dare to express the senti- ments of their hearts, they celebrate the name and suffer- ings of TONE, with that melancholy enthusiasm which is characteristic of their national feelings for the struggles and misfortunes of their Heroes.

We are likewise directed to present a Sword to his youthful son and successor, with a lively hope, that it may one day, in his hand, avenge the wrongs of his country. We are, Madam,

With the utmost respect,

Your most obedient humble servants,

David Bryson, "j

Geo. White, j

Wm. Js. Macneven, J> Committee.

Thos. Addis Emmet, J

George Cuming, J

October 1, 1807.

To which Mrs. Tone returned the following Answer:

Gentlemen,

The sweetest consolation my heart can feel, I receive In the proof you now give me, that my husband still lives in your affections and esteem; though in the course of nine disastrous years, the numerous victims who have magnan- imously suffered for the liberty of Ireland, might well con- fuse memory, and make selection difficult.

I am proud of belonging to a nation, whose sons pre- serve, under every vicissitude of fortune, a faithful at- tachment to their principles; and from whose firm and generous minds, neither persecution, exile, nor time, can

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394 APPENDIX.

obliterate the remembrance of those who have fallen., though ineffectually, in the cause of our country.

For your gift to my son, take his mother's thanks and his, while she tremblingly hopes that fate may spare him, to prove himself not unworthy of his father or his friends-. / have the honor to remain,

With grateful respect, gentlemen, Your most obedient,

MATILDA TONE,

THE MEDALLION*

Cato, contemplating the immortality of the soul; he is seated; one hand rests on the works of Plato, the other on his sword. The allusion will be readily perceived by those who remember the fate of general Tone.

MOTTO.

Viodrix Causa Diis placuit, sed Victa Catoni.

INSCRIPTION.

Presented by the Hibernian Provident Society oi

New- York, to the worthy Relict of the late

illustrious Patriot,

GEN. THEOBALD WOLFE TONE.

While tve lament his sufferings, We will ever cherish his memory, And emulate his virtues.

*Elegantly executed by Mr. Arch. Robertson, of this City

APPENDIX. 395

FACTS,

IN CONTINUATION OF THE APPENDIX.

Having promised some instances of the cruelties inflict- ed on the Irish, they will naturally be expected. But what to select from such a mass of horrors, is a difficult question. If my professional occupations should leave me so much leisure hereafter, I may probably employ it in further pursuit of a subject so interesting to humanity, and so necessary to truth. For the present the following extracts may suffice, to authenticate all that has been as- serted in the correspondence. And it will readily appear to any candid mind, to which of the contending parties in Ireland the imputation of Treason is most deservedly ascrihable.

TEST OF THE ORANGEMEN,

Contrasted ivith that of the United Irishmen.

orangemen's original test.

I do hereby swear, that I will be true to the king and government, and that I will exterminate, as far as I am able, the Catholics of Ireland,

A VV ENDXX.

question^, Answers.

Where are you? At the house of bondage.

Where are you going: To the Promised Land.

Stand fa-?t yourself? Through the Red Sea.

What is your haste? I am afraid.

Dont be afraid, for the man who sought your life is dead.

Will you hold it or have it? I will hold it.

SIGNS OF THE ORANGEMEN.

Take your right hand and put it to your right hunch, turn round, saying, great is the man that sent rue; then lake your left hand and say, welcome brother Prince of Orange.

(fj^Such was the grossness of that faction which now governs both England and Ireland, it is almost incredible.

AMENDED OATH OF ORANGEMEN,

M it is said to hare issued from the hands of the Grand Master of the Orange Lodges in Ulster. I, in the presence of Almighty God, do solemnly and sincerely swear, that I will not give the secret of an Or- angeman, unless it be to him or them I find to be such after strict trial, or the word of a well-known Orangeman, for him or from the body or assembly of Orangemen. I also swear, that I will answer all summonses from an as- sembly of Orangemen, eighty miles distance; and that I will not sit, stand by, or be by and see a brother Orange- man struck, battered or abused, or known his character in- juriously taken away, without using every effort in my power to assist him at the hazard of my life. I further declare, that I will not lie, to or upon an Orangemen, me knowing the same to be detrimental to him; but will warn him of all dangers, as far as in my power lies; and that I will bear true allegiance to his majesty, and assist the

APPENDIX. 397

civil magistrates in the execution of their offices, if called upon, and that I will not know of any conspiracy against the Protestant Ascendancy, and that I will not make, or be at the making of a Roman Catholic an Oraugemau, or give him any offence, unless he offends me, and then I will use my utmost endeavors to shed the last drop of his blood, if he or they be not a warranted mason; and that I will stand three to ten to relieve a brother Orangeman, and I will not be a thief, or the companion of a thief, to my knowledge.

Questions. Answers.

What's that in your hand? A secret to you.

From whence came you? From the land of bondage.

Whither goeth thou? To the land of promise.

Have you got a pass-word? I have.

Will you give it to me? I did not get it so.

Will you halve it or letter it? I will halve it.

March Delzo thro' the Red Sea.

What Red Sea? The wall of the Red Sea.

I am afraid. Of what?

The secrets of the Orange- Fear not, for he that sought men being discovered. your life is dead.

Have you got a grand word? I have the grand, I am that

I am.

Did you hear the crack? I did.

What crack diu you hear? A crack from the hill of fire.

Can you write your name? I can.

With what sort of a pen? With the spear of life, or Aa- ron's rod, that buds, blos- soms, and bears almonds in one night.

With what sort of ink? Papist blood.

.■>

.'S APPENDIX.

This last was the amended test, to which a certain vice- roy was said to have suhscribed when colonel of the Cam- bridge regiment.

[The former was what they called their purple oath, and evidently that upon which they acted.

CONTRAST.

Original Declaration of United Irishmen. "We pledge ourselves to endeavor, by all due means, to obtain a complete and radical reform of the representation of the people in Parliament, including Irishmen of every religious persuasion."

XATTER TEST OF UNITED IRISHMEN,

After the insurrection act had made the former obligation a felony, and secrecy became necessary to self-preservation.

"IN THE AWFUL PRESENCE OF GOD,

I do voluntarily declare, that I will persevere in endea- voring to form a brotherhood of affection among Irish- men of every religious persuasion; and that I will also persevere in my endeavors to obtain an equal, full and ad- equate representation of all the people of Ireland. I do further declare, that neither hopes, fears, rewards or pun- ishments, shall ever induce me, directly or indirectly, to inform on, or give evidence against, any member or mem- bers of this or similar societies, for any act or expression of theirs, done or made collectively or individually, in or out of this society, in pursuance of the spirit of this obligation."

(CT'T'hat the oath to exterminate should be loyal, and the oath to promote religious reconciliation, treasonable, could happen only under the government of England."

APPENDIX. 399

EXTRACTS PROM LORD MOIRA's SPEECH,

In the English House of Lords, on the 22d of November, 1797, in favor of Conciliation.

"When I troubled your lordships with my observations upon the state of Ireland last year, I spoke upon documents certain and incontestible. I address you, this day, mj lords, upon documents equally sure and stable. Before God and my country, I speak of what I have seen myseU*. But in what I shall think it necessary to say upon this subject, I feel that I must take grounds of a restrictive na- ture. It is not my intention to select any individual, in order to adduce a charge against him. It is not my wish to point a prejudice against any one. What I have to speak of, are not solitary and isolated measures, nor par- tial abuses, but what is adopted as the system of govern- ment. I do not talk of a casual system, but of one delibe- rately determined upon and regularly persevered in. When we hear of a military government, we must expect excesses, which are not all, 1 acknowledge, attributable to the government; but these I lay out of my consideration. I will speak only of the excesses that belong to, and pro- ceed from, the system pursued by the administration of Ireland. I am aware it may be urged that a statement, such as I am about to lay before your lordships, is calculated to interfere too much with the internal government of the sister kingdom. In answer to this assertion, I would, if necessary, begin by laying it down as an incontrovertible opinion, that we have so direct a concern and connexion with Ireland, that any error of government in that country is a fit subject for our attention; and if circumstances re- ouii'ed it, for an address to his majesty for the removal of

400 APPENDIX.

the chief governor. My lords, this observation applies not in any manner to the present lord-lieutenant; on the contrary, I will pay him the tribute which I think due to him, that to much private worth and honor, his lordship adds, I believe, very sincere wishes for the happiness of the kingdom which has been placed under his government. My lords, I have seen in Ireland the most absurd as well as the most disgusting tyranny that any nation ever groaned under. I have been myself a witness of it in many instances; I have seen it practised and unchecked. and the effects that have resulted from it, have been such as I have stated to your lordships. I have said, that if such a tyranny be persevered in, the consequence must inevitably be, the deepest and most universal discontent. and even hatred to the English name. I have seen in that country a marked distinction made between the English and Irish. I have seen troops that have been sent full of this prejudice, that every inhabitant in that kingdom is a rebel to the British government. I have seen the most wanton insults practised upon men of all ranks and condi- tions. I have seen the most grievous oppressions exer- cised, in consequence of a presumption, that the person who was the unfortunate object of such oppression, was in hostility to the government; and yet that lias been done in a part of the country as quiet and as free from disturbance as the city of London. Who states these things, my lords, should, I know, be prepared with proofs. I am prepared with them. Many of the circumstances I know of my own knowledge; others I have received from such chan- nels as will not permit me to hesitate one moment in giv- ing credit to them. "His lordship then observed, that from education and

APPENDIX. 401

early habits, the Curfew was ever considered by Britons as a badge of slavery and oppression. It then was practised in Ireland with brutal rigor. He had known an instance, where a master of a house had in vain pleaded to be allowed the nse of a candle to enable the mother to administer relief to her daughter, struggling in convulsive fits. In former times, it had been the custom for Englishmen to hold the infamous proceedings of the inquisition in detestation; one of the greatest horrors with which it was attended was, that the person, ignorant of the crime laid to his charge, or of his accuser, was torn from his family, immured in a prison, and in the most cruel uncertainty as to the period of his confinement, or the fate which awaited him. To this injustice, abhorred by Protestants in the practice of the inquisition, were the people of Ireland exposed. All confidence, all security, were taken away. In alluding to the inquisition, he had omitted to mention one of its char- acteristic features; if the supposed culprit refused to acknowledge the crime with which he was charged, he was put to the rack, to extort confession of whatever crime was alleged against him by the pressure of tor- ture. The same proceedings had been introduced in Ire- land. When a man was taken up on suspicion, he was put to the torture; nay, if he were merely accused of conceal- ing the guilt of another. The rack, indeed, was not at hand; but the punishment of picqueting was in practice, which had been for some years abolished, as too inhuman, even in the dragoon service. He had known a man, in order to extort confession of a supposed crime, or of that of some of his neighbors, piequetted until he actually faint- ed; picqueted a second time until he fainted again; and as soon as he came to himself, picqueted a third time until

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402 APPENDIX.

fce once more fainted; and all upon mere Suspicion! Nor Mas this the only species of torture; men had heen taken and hung up until they were half dead, and then threaten- ed with a repetition of the cruel treatment, unless they made confession of the imputed guilt. These were not particular acts of cruelty, exercised hy men abusing the power committed to them, but they formed a part of our system. They were notorious, and no person could say who would be the next victim of this oppression and cruelty which he saw others endure. This, however, was not allj their lordships, no doubt, woidd recollect the famous proc- lamation issued by a military commander in Ireland, re- quiring the people to give up their arms; it never was de- nied that this proclamation was illegal, though defended on some supposed necessity; but it was not surprising that any reluctance had been shewn to comply with it, by men who conceived the constitution gave them a right to keep arms in their houses for their own defence; and thev could not but feel indignation in being called upon to give up their right. In the execution of the order, the greatest cruelties had been committed; if any one was suspected to have concealed weapons of defence, his house, his furni- ture, and all his property, was burnt; but this was not all; if it were supposed that any district had not surrendered all the arms which it contained, a party was sent out to collect the number at which it was rated, and in the ex- ecution of this order thirty houses were sometimes burnt down in a single night. Officers took upon themselves to decide discretionally the quantity of arms, and upon their opinions these fatal consequences followed. Many such cases might be enumerated; but from prudential motives he wished to draw a veil over more aggravated facts,

APPFNDIX. 40 3

which lie could have stated, and which he was willing te attest before the privy council or at their lordships' bar. These facts were well known in Ireland; but they could not be made public through the channel of the newspapers, for fear of that summary mode of punishment which had been practised towards the Northern Star, when a party of troops in open day, and in a town where the general's head-quarters were, went and destroyed all the offices and property belonging to that paper. His lordship concluded, with intreating the house to take into serious consideration the present measures which, instead of removing discon- tents, had increased the number of the discontented. Thss moment of conciliation was not yet passed; but if the sys- tem were not changed, he was convinced Ireland would not remain connected with this country five years longer." His lordship did not then foresee the kind of connection w» tended.

Extracts from the speech of the same nobleman, delivered in the Irish House of Lords, on the 19th of February, 1798.

"That many individuals had been torn from their fam- ilies, and locked up for moutlis in the closest confinement, without hearing by whom they were accused, with what crime they were charged, or to what means they might re- cur to prove their innocence; that great numbers of houses had been burned, with the whole property of the wretched owners, upon the loosest supposition of even petty trans- gressions; that torture, by which he meant picqueting and Jialf hanging, continued to be used to extort from the suf-

404 APPENDIX.

ferers a charge against his neighbors." If he should be contradicted with respect to these facts, he professed him- self prepared to "produce the affidavits of them," and de- clared his intention of moving "for the examination of the deponents at the bar. If there be delinquencies, there must be delinquents: Prove their guilt, and punish them; but do not, on a loose charge of partial transgression, im- pose infliction on the whole community. The state of so- ciety was dreadful indeed, when the safety of every man was at the mercy of a secret informer; when the cupidity, the malevolence, or the erroneous suspicions of an individ- ual were sufficient to destroy his neighbor."

COMMITTEE OF ELDERS.

From Mr. Grattan's Speech against the motion of the at- torney-general, for certain additional measures of coercion, in the Irish House of Commons, February 20, 1796.

Their modes of outrage were as various as they were atrocious; they sometimes forced, by terror, the masters of families to dismiss their Catholic servants; they some- times forced landlords, by terror, to dismiss their Catholic tenantry; they seized, as deserters, numbers of Catholic weavers, sent them to the county gaol, transmitted them to Dublin, where they remained in close prison, until some lawyers, from compassion, pleaded their cause, and pro- cured their enlargement; nothing appearing against them of any kind whatsoever. Those insurgents, who called themselves Orange Boys, or Protestant Boys, that is, a banditti of murderers, committing massacre in the name

APPENDIX. 405

n! God, and exercising despotic power in the name of lib- erty; those insurgents had organised their rebellion, and formed themselves into a committee, who sat and tried the Catholic weavers and inhabitants, when apprehended false- ly and illegally as deserters. That rebellious committee, they called the committee of Elders, who, when the unfor- tunate Catholic was torn from his family and his loom and brought before them, sat in judgment upon his case; if he gave them liquor or money, they sometimes dis- charged him, otherwise they sent him to a recruiting office as a deserter. They had very generally given the Catho- lics notice to quit their farms and dwellings, which notice was plaistered on the house, and conceived in these short but plain words: «Go to hell, Connaught won't receive you—fire and faggot. Will Tresham and John Thrust- out." That they followed these notices by a faithful and punctual execution of the horrid threat; soon after visited the house., robbed the family, and destroyed what they did not take, and finally completed the atrocious persecutions, by forcing the unfortunate inhabitants to leave their land, their dwellings and their trade, and to travel with their miserable family, and whatever their miserable family could save from the wreck of their houses and tenements, and take refuge in villages, as fortifications against in- vaders, where they described themselves, as he had seen in their affidavits, in the following manner: "We (mention- ing their names) formerly of Armagh, weavers, now of no fixed place of abode or means of living, &c." In many instances this banditti of persecution threw down the houses of the tenantry, or what they call racked the house so that the family must fly or be buried in the grave of their own cabin. The extent of the murders that had been com-

406 APPENDIX.

mittcd by tka* atrocious and rebellious banditti he had heard, but had not heard them .so ascertained as to state them to that house; but from all the enquiries he could make, he collected, that the Catholic inhabitants of Ar- magh had been actually put out of the protection of the law; that the magistrates had been supine or partial, and tluit the horrid banditti had met with complete success, and from the magistracy with very little discouragement.

{£j°They were afterwards identified with the govern- ment, not only in Ireland, but in England*

The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, on the same

Occasion.

('l shall oppose this resolution, because I think that this resolution will not prevent the crimes of which the right honorable gentleman complains; the disturbances of the country, sir, are not to be remedied by any coercive meas- ures, however strong; such measures will tend rather to ex- asperate than to remove the evil. Nothing, sir, can effect this and restore tranquility to the country, but a serious, a candid endeavor of government and of this house, to re- dress the grievances of the people. Redress those, and the people will return to their allegiance and their duty; suffer them to continue, and neither your resolutions nor your bills will have any effect: I shall therefore, sir, op- pose not only this resolution, but all the resolutions which the right honorable gentleman has read to you, except per- haps one, that which goes to constitute the written testi- mony of a dying witness, good evidence. This, I think*

APPENDIX. 407

is fair and likely to facilitate the course of justice, without violently infringing* as all the other resolutions seem to do, the liberty of the subject."

f^pLord Edward was not at this time, nor for a long time after, a United Irishman, much less had he thought of any alliance^with France.

MOLL DOYLE.

The notices of the govemment-men, in the counties of Wexford and Wicklow, in the years 1798, 1799 and 1800, ran thus: A — B — . We give you notice in five days to quit; or if you don't, by God, we will visit your house with fire, and yourself with lead. We are the Grinders, Moll Doyle's true grandsons.

MOLL DOYLE AGAIN.

On the estate of Mr. Siviny, called Court, when the leases of the tenants, who were Catholics, expired, the same KING'S CONSCIENCE-MEN posted the following Proclamations:

*

Let no Papist presume to take lands; and even if a son of Moll Doyle should offer more than half a guinea an acre (worth fifty shillings) he shall forfeit all privi- leges of the fraternity, and undergo the same punishment for his transgressions, as if he was a Papist. The lands, in consequence, remained waste for nearly two years.

408 APPENDIX.

(I^Molt, Doyle, the adopted grandmother of these ruffians, was nothing more than a metaphor, meaning the King's Conscience. This threat of lowering the rents, first alarmed the guilty landlords, and made them fee4 the danger of extermination.

It may not he amiss to contrast with this gross barbari- ty the proclamation of a Rebel General, and the Dy- ing declaration of a Rebel.

TO THE PEOPLE OF IPVELAND.

Countrymen and Fellow-Soldiers!

Yqvr patriotic exertions in the cause of your country, have hitherto exceeded your most sanguine expectations, and in a short time must ultimately be crowned with suc- cess. Liberty has raised her drooping head, thousands daily flock to her standards, the voice of her children every where prevails. Let us then, in the moment of triumph, return thanks to the Almighty Ruler of the Universe, that a total stop has been put to those sanguinary measures, which of late were but too often resorted to by the crea- tures of government, to keep the people in slavery.

Nothing now, my countrymen, appears necessary to se- cure the conquests you have already won, but an implicit obedience to the commands of your chiefs; for through a want of proper subordination and discipline, al! may be changed;

At this eventful period all Europe must admire, and pos- terity will read with astonishment, the heroic acts achieved by people, strangers to military tactics, and having few

APPENDIX. 409

professional commanders; but what power can resist men fighting for liberty?

In the moment of triumph, my countrymen, let not your victories be tarnished with any wanton act of cruelty; many of those unfortunate men now in prison were not your enemies from principle; most of them, compelled by necessity, were obliged to oppose you; neither let a differ- ence in religious sentiments cause a difference among the people. Recur to the debates in the Irish house of lords on the 19th of February last; you will there see a patriotic and enlightened Protestant bishop (Down) and many of the lay lords, with manly eloquence, pleading for Catholic emancipation and parliamentary reform, in opposition to the haughty arguments ol the lord chancellor, and the powerful opposition of his fellow-courtiers.

To promote a union of brotherhood and affection among our countrymen of all religious persuasions, has been our principal object; we have sworn in the most solemn man- ner, have associated from this laudable purpose, and no power on earth shall shake our resolution.

To my Protestant fellow-soldiers I feel much indebted for their gallant behaviour in the field, where they exhibited signal proofs of bravery in the cause.

EDWARD ROCHE.

Wexford, June 7, 1798.

DYING DECLARATION OE WHXIAM ORR.

My Friends and Countrymen, In the thirty -first year of my life, I have been sentenced to die upon the gallows, and this sentence has hem in pur-

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410 APPENDIX*

suance of a verdict of twelve men, who should have been indifferently and impartially chosen; how far they have been so, I leave to that country from which they have been chosen, to determine; and how far they have discharged their duty, I leave to their God and to themselves. They have, in pronouncing their verdict, thought proper to re- commend me as an object of human mercy; in return, I pray to God, if they have erred, to have mercy upon them. The judge, who condemned me, humanely shed tears in ut- tering my sentence; but whether he did wisely, in so highly commending the wretched informer who swore away my life, I leave to his own cool reflection, solemnly assuring him and all the world, with my dying breath, that the informer was forsworn. The law under which I suffer, is surely a severe one; may the makers and promoters of it, be justified in the integrity of their motives and the purity of their own lives. By that law, I am stamped a felon, but my heart disdains the imputation. My comfortable lot and industrious course of life, best re- fute the charge of being an adventurcrer for plunder; but if to have loved my country, to have known its wrongs, to have felt the injuries of the persecuted Catholics, and to have united with them and all other religious persuasions, in the most orderly and least sanguinary means of procur- ing redress; if those be felonies, I am a felon, but not other- wise. Had my counsel,* for whose honorable exertions I

*The indictment was under the insurrection act for admin- istering- the obligation to religious union. The informer in his zeal, added some conversation about joining the French. Upon which Mr. Curran and I, who were his counsel, moved that he should be discharged of that indictment, as the offence, if the witness was at all credible, would be treason under the Stat. Ed. III. Our motives were these, that under this in=

I

APPENDIX. 41 J

am indebted, prevailed in their motion to have me tried for high treason, rather than under the insurrection law, I should have been entitled to a full defence, and my ac- tions and intentions have been better vindicated; hut that was refused, and I must now submit to what has passed.

To the generous protection of my country, I leave a he- loved wife, who has been constant and true to me, and whose grief for my fate has already nearly occasioned her death. I leave five living children, who have been my de- light; may they love their country as I have done, and die for it if needful.

Lastly, a false and ungenerous publication having ap- peared in a newspaper, stating certain alleged confessions of guilt on my part, and thus striking at my reputation, which is dearer to me than life, I take this solemn method of contradicting that calumny. I was applied to by the high sheriff, and the Rev. William Bristow, sovereign of Belfast, to make a confession of guilt, who used entreaties to that effect; this I peremptorily refused; did I think my- self guilty, I should be free to confess it, but on the con- trary, I glory in my innocence.

I trust that all my virtuous countrymen will hear me in their kind remembrance, and continue true and faithful to- each other, as I have been to all of them. With this last

dictment the witness had only to swear a predetermined oath }o the administering of a printed test, put into his hand merely go be sworn to, and his counsel could not be heard to the facts* Under the law of treason, he would have had a full defence upon the law and the fact, and have been undoubtedly acquit- ted; although even then, he would have had but half the priv- ilege of an Englishman, as in treason two witnesses are re- quired to take away the life of an Englishman; one is held enough to swear away that of an Irishman. For the further liistory of this case see Curran's speech for Peter Finerty.

112 APPENDIX.

wish of my heart, not doubting of the success of that cause for which I suffer, and hoping for God's merciful forgive- ness of such offences as my frail nature may have at any time betrayed me into, I die in peace and charity with all mankind.

WILLIAM ORR. Corrickfergus Goal, October 5, 1798.

PROTESTANT FANATICISM.

It is an injustice to charge the Catholics in the late re- bellion with bigotry or fanaticism, -and not to mention a fact which puts it beyond a doubt, that the no Popery Fac- tion were infinitely the most bigotted, and if bigotry be Po- pery, much the most Papistical.

Mr. Hay has given a list of the Roman Catholic Chap- els burned by the loyalists or peep-of-day-boy$f in the county of Wexford, with the dates of their several confla- grations, amounting to thirty-three. And Mr. Plowden has cited an official list of upward of seventy, damaged or destroyed by the said government boys.

APPENDIX. 413

SACRILEGE.

The following fact is enough to stamp the English and their Mherents in Ireland, with everlasting infamy. It is from Mr. Hay's History of the Wexford Insurrection, page 301, where he tridy observes, that no such atro- city can, at any period, be implied to the most infuri- ated pike-men.

• At the summer assizes of Wexford, in 1801, James Redmond was tried and condemned for murder; and pur- suant to his sentence was executed on the 30th of July, and his body delivered to the surgeons, who, after dissecting it, permitted it to be taken away, and it was buried. The corpse was dug up out of its grave, and placed in the shed erected for the priest to officiate on the scite of the Catho- lic Chapel of Monamoling, which had been burned. Tbis exhibition was not discovered until the congregation had assembled to hear mass on the Sunday following, the 3d of August, 1801 .

GENERAL MURPHY.

"The rebel general Murphey, when led to execution was tauntingly desired to work miracles, and otherwise scoffed at and insulted by a young officer, who went the length of offering a most indecent insult to Ids person, which so ir- ritated his feelings, that, though on the very brink of eter- nity, he doubled his fist and knocked down the officer in a blow; upon which he was unmercifully flagellated and in- stantly hanged.'*

414 ArPKNDIX.

IRISH LA.W.

"Lv the barony of Lower Orion, in the county of Ar- magh, one Birch, under a military escort, with his hands tied behind him, was cut down by the sergeant, and died of his wounds; the pretext was, that some countrymen, at- tracted by curiosity, came near them and intended to at- tempt a rescue; and on the night of the wake of the de- ceased, some soldiers under the command of colonel Spar- row, broke into the house, took out the corpse, and severely wounded and mangled those who were in the house.

"A party of the Essex Fencibles burned the house and furniture of one Potter, a respectable farmer, because his wife, who had seven infant children, either would not or could not tell where her husband was. Another party of the same regiment quartered at Enniskillen, broke open the house of Farmer Dur man, at two o'clock, murdered one and wounded another of his sons while in bed. The like outrages were committed at Coolairll, upon one Price, an innkeeper, and his daughter, who were both dangerously wounded.

"The colonel was tried and found guilty, but he had the king's pardon in his pocket, which he produced upon the, sentence being pronounced against him."

{£yi was present at the above transaction; and on the same circuit at Carrie kfergus, I was counsel for Joseph Ctithbcrt and a number of others, who, after a year's im- prisonment, were tried and acquitted. Immediately upon their acquittal, the public prosecutor produced a warrant under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, and they were committed afresh to the hands of the gaoler, its sm~ pected.

APPENDIX, 41?

ANOTHER INSTANCE.

Mr. WALTER BEVEREAUX.

"I cannot omit here mentioning the case of Mr. Walter Devereanx, who, having obtained protections from several general officers, had gone to Cork to .embark for Portugal; he was there taken up, tried, condemned and executed. Mr. Gibson, a yeoman and wealthy Protestant shopkeeper, and Mr. William Kearney, an extensive brewer, were summoned and attended at his trial, and proved that he was in Wexford, and even in gaol, at the very time sonic soldiers of the Wexford militia were shot, thirty miles from that town; and the principal charge against him was, that he gave orders, and was present at their execution, which some men of that regiment were hardened enough to swear! I myself saw him in Wexford on th^alleged day. He was also accused of aiding and abetting the abominations at Scullabogue, and this charge was similarly supported by the testimony of some soldiers' wives! and yet it is an un- doubted fact, that he was all that day engaged at the battle of Ross, where he displayed the most heroic bravery and courage, equalities inconsistent with the odious crime it was falsely sworn he had perpetrated! But what puts the false- hood of the facts alleged against him beyond all question is, that after his execution, another Mr. Devereanx was taken up on the discriminating sagacity of the same wit- nesses, who prosecuted the former to death; but who now, as they said, discovered the right Devereanx. The trial of the latter has been published, and I would recommend its perusal to such as wish further information,"

416 APPENDIX,

AN0THEE.

MICHAEL EGAX.

"We have taken particular pains to be informed of the sequel of the story of Michael and Thomas Egan, the father and son, who underwent so barbarous and brutal a persecution in the village of Dunlavin, in the county of Wicklow; being, as we have already stated, dragged nak- ed from their beds, in the dead hour of night; the father's bones broken by officers and yeomen; for to the immortal honor of the poor Irish soldiers, they refused to take part in the atrocity; whilst the son was hanged three times, in the presence of his aged father, with every aggravating cir- cumstance of barbarity; and this without any color of legal authority whatever, but avowedly by the inhuman and ille- gal process of torture, % extort accusations from the agony of the sufferers. Upon the son's refusing a bribe, the fath- er was violently beaten before his face.

"The young man was cut down senseless, his tongue hanging out of his mouth; but was nevertheless kept sever- al days in the guard-house. In six days he was taken, with his hands tied behind his back, to Wicklow gaol, where he remained, in the most monstrous contempt and violation of the law, in a dismal cell, loaded with very hea- vy irons.

"He was then brought up to the quarter sessions at Baltinglass, and an indictment read to him, charging him with having spoken seditious words. He was then remand- ed, and not delivered till he gave bail in so extravagant a sum as five hundred pounds. The words, we understand, with which he was charged, were fitter to excite laughter,

JUPPEXDIX. 4 \ 7

than to sanction any such persecution; and upon his appear- ance at Baltinglass, the ps'osecuter thought fit to quash his indictment; and Mr. Fowler, a principal party, was- him- self held to bail, upon the information of Michael Egau against him, and is to answer at the next assizes at Wick- low, when the whole will be brought fairly to light, for which reason we forbear from being more particular at present.

"We hear that the friends of the poor sufferers took down counsel especially to protect them, viz. Counsellors Sampson and Bennett."

(j^pThe above facts are stated short of the truth. When the defendant came into court, he found it filled with the very soldiery who had committed these barbarous crimes against his father and himself, He found those under whose orders, and by whose help they had done those acts, seated on the bench of justice to try him. Be- tween those military justices who had first tortured him, and were* now his accusers and judges, <$M their guards, there was only a thin loose canvas, through which, for more terror, the bayonet's points were visible.

The court thought proper to quash the indictment, and we prevailed so far as to oblige one of the judges to come down from the bench and give bail to answer the charge of the accused. This effort was not without risk of our lives, Mr. Emmet and I had obtained a rule in the king's bench for an information; but before the case could be tried, life, Mr. Bennet and I, were all put in goal.

3E

418 APPENDIX.

TILOODY EXECUTIONS OF WEXEORD.

"The entrance of the wooden bridge was the scene fix- ed on for the place of execution. The sufferers were haul- ed up with pullies, made fast with ropes to an ornamental iron arch, intended for lamps, and springing from the two wooden piers of the gate next the town. The large stat- ure of the Rev. Philip Roche caused the first rope he was hauled up with to break; but another was soon procured, and his life was ended with double torture. The head of captain Keugh, who suffered along with him, was separat- ed from his body and conspicuously placed on a pike over the front of the court-house. Their bodies, together with those of others executed at the same time, were stripped and treated with the utmost brutality and indecency, pre- vious to their being tlirown over the bridge.

"Mr. Grogan was brought to trial, but the evidence which he hoped to obtain of his innocence, did not attend, on account of the general apprehension which prevailed. His trial was therefore postponed, and he was remanded to gaol. Mr. Harvey was then put on his trial, which lasted for the best part of the day, and ended in his condemna- tion.

"Mr. Grogan's trial was then resumed; but this he did not expect until the next day, and consequently he had not been able to procure all the necessary evidence. It was indeed proved, that he was forced to join the insurgents, but this did not prevent a sentence of his conviction: such was the idea entertained at the time, of the necessity of public example! The condemnation of these gentlemen was afterwards confirmed by the Irish parliament, which

APPENDIX. 419

passed an act of attainder against them, and a confiscation of their properties; notwithstanding that, on parliamentary enquiry into the merits of the proceedings, it was clearly proved, that the court-martial had not heen even sworn: so that, although their condemnation and the confiscation of their properties be sanctioned by law, yet the justice of the process is very questionable, and the investigation of it will employ the pens of future historians; particularly in the ca*s of Mr. Grogan, who was undoubtedly sacrificed to the temper of the times. On the following day, Messrs. Harvey, Grogan, and Mr. Patrick Pendergast, a rich maltster in Wexford, were ordered out to execution. When Mr. Harvey was brought out of his cell, he met Mr, Grogan in the gaol-yard, and accosted him in a feeling af- fectionate manner; while shaking hands with him, he said, in the presence of an officer and some of the guards, and in the hearing of several prisoners, who had crowded to the windows, "Ah! poor Grogan, you die an innocent man at all events." They were then conducted to the bridge, where they were hanged, when the heads of Messrs. Gro- gan and Harvey were cut off, and placed upon pikes on each side of that of captain Keugh, while their bodies, and that of Mr. Prendergast, were stript and treated with the usual brutal indecencies, before being cast over the bridge! Mr. Colclough was brought out to trial on the same day, and condemned. On the next day be was executed, but his body, at the intercession of his lady, was given up to her to be interred. Mr. John Kelly, of Killan, whose courage and intrepidity had been so conspicuous at the battle of Jloss, now lay ill in Wexford, of a wound which he had re- ceived in that engagement; he was taken prisoner from his bed, tried and condemned to die, and brought on a car to

420 APPENDIX.

the place of execution. His head was cut off, and his body, after the at customed indignities, was thrown over the bridge. The head, however, was reserved for other exhi- bitions. It was firgt kicked about on the custom-house- quay, and then brought up into the town, thrown up and treated in the same manner opposite the house in which his sister lodged, in order that she might view this new and savage game at foot-ball, of which, when the players were tired, the head was placed in the exalted situation to which it had been condemned, above that of captain Keugh, over the door of the court-house.5'

CAJS'STBAX.

**A young man, of the name of Walsh, was brought into Naas, who was said by a female to be the person who shot captain Swayne, in the action at Prosperous. It is now well known that he was not within sixteen miles of Pros- perous, when the action took place there; nevertheless, he was taken without any form of trial to the ship, and there hanged, dragged naked through the street to the lower end of the town, and there set fire to; and when half burned, his body opened, his heart taken out, and put on the point of a wattle, which was instantly placed on the top of a house, where it remained until taken down by one of the military, who marched into town about nine weeks after. When the body had been almost consumed, a large piece of it was brought into the next house, where the mistress of it, Mrs. Newland, was obliged to furnish a knife, fork, and plate, and an old woman of the name of Daniel, was obliged to

APPENDIX. 421

bring" them salt. These two women heard them say, 'that Paddy ate sweet,' and confirmed it, with a <d — n their eyes.' These women are living* and worthy of credit, be- ing judged honest and respectable in their line and situa- tion of life."

ANOTHEE.

"Ojv a public day in the week preceding the insurrec- tion, the town of Gorey beheld the triumphal entry of Mr. Gowan at the head of his corps, with his sword drawn, and a human finger stuck on the point of it.

"With this trophy he marched into the town, parading up and down the streets several times, so that there was not a person in Gorey who did not witness this exhibition; while in the mean time the triumphant corps displayed all the devices of Orangemen. After the labor and fatigue of the day, Mr. Gowan and his men retired to a public house to refresh themselves, and, like tme blades of game, their punch was stirred about with the finger that had graced their ovation, in imitation of keen fox-hunters, who whisk a bowl of punch with the brush of a fox before their booz- ing commences. This captain and magistrate afterwards went to the house of Mr. Jones, where his daughters were, and while taking a snack that was set before him, he bragged of having blooded his corps that day, and that they were as staunch blood-hounds as any in the world. The daughters begged of their father to shew them the croppy finger, which he deliberately took from his pocket and handed to them. Misses dandled it about with sense- less exultation, at which a young lady in the room was so

422 APPENDIX.

Shocked, that she turned about to a window, holding her hand to her lace to avoid the horrid sight. Mr. Gowan perceiving this, took the finger from his daughters, and archly dropped it into the disgusted lady's bosom. She instantly fainted, and thus the scene ended! Mr. Gowan constantly boasted of this and other similar heroic actions. which he repeated in the presence of brigade major Fitz- gerald, on whom he waited officially, but so fai frotti meet- ing his applause, the major obliged him instantly to leave the company."

BLOODY PARSON.

The following atrocity happened in the county of Longford.

"The Rev. Mr. M , a parson magistrate, dined at

the house of a Mr. Kn — t, near Newtown, and was hospit- ably entertained; another gentleman named F — ns, was present. The parson drank punch, and having mentioned that a man in the neighboring village had remarkable good whiskey; the servant was dispatched at nine at night for a bottle of it. The poor man went accordingly, and soon returned, and made the bottle into punch for his master's guests. When it was finished, the parson took his leave, having called for an orderly constable named Rawlins, who always attended him. He then told Mr. K. that that ras- cal (alluding to the poor servant who had gone a mile in the dark to procure liquor for this monster) was a damned United Irishman, and he must take him up. Mr. K. re- monstrated, and as well as Mr. F — , informed this Rever- end Justice, that during two years he Jiad lived with him.

APPENDIX. 423

and had no fault, they believed him to he a harmless hon- est man. Mr. M. — insisted on his prisoner going with him; the gentlemen, after using every remonstrance, and offering bail, were obliged to give up the servant. Mr. F. was to go part of the same road that M — took, and ac- cordingly went with him and witnessed the horrible trans- action that shortly happened. When they had gone about half a mile, the parson who had been using every sort of opprobrious language to his prisoner, desired an immediate confession. The poor man could not make any, on which he ordered the police constable to shoot him, who answer- ed, Not I really, sir.

"Then give me your guv*— on your knees, villain — I give you but two minutes to pray! Tbe man fell on his knees, and prayed for mercy. The constable and other gentle- men interfered; but the parson directly shot his victim, and left him there.

"A coroner's inquest found a verdict; and the grand jury of the county of Longford, found a true bill for wilful murder; and yet there has been no trial; and Parson M — ■ is still at large, and no doubt ready to continue the system of murder, burning and transporting, for the sake of re- ligion and good government. ( See Beauties of the Press, p. 459.

WALKING- GALLOWS.

"A lieutenant, well known by the name of the \\ alking- Gallows, at the head of a party of the "Wicklow regiment, marched to a place called Gardenstown, in Westineath.

424 APPENDIX.

They went to the house of an old man named Carroll, of seventy years and upwards, and asked for arms; and hav- ing promised protection and indemnity, the old man deliv- ered up to this monster three guns, which he no sooner re- reived; than he, with his own hands, shot the old man through the heart, and then had his sons (two young men) butchered; burned and destroyed their house, corn, hay, and in short whatever property they possessed. The wife and child of one of the sous were inclosed in the house, when set fire to, and would have been burned, had not one of the soldiers begged their lives from the officer; but on condition that if the bitch (using his own words) made the least noise, they should share the same fate as the rest of the family. This bloody transaction happened about two o'clock on Monday morning, the 19th of June, 179T. He pressed a car, on which the three bodies were thrown; and from thence went to a village called Moyvore, took in cus- tody three men, named Henry Smith, John Smith, and Michael Murray, under pretence of their being United Irishmen; and having tied them to the car on which the mangled bodies of the Carroll's were placed, they were marched about three miles, possing in the blood of their murdered neighbors, and at three o'clock on the same day were shot on the fair green of Ballymore; and so uni- versal was the panic, that a man could not be procured to inter the six dead bodies; the sad office was obliged to be done by women. The lieutenant, on the morning of this deliberate and sanguinary murder, invited several gentle- men to stay and see what he called partridge-shooting. It may not be improper to remark that lord Oxmantown re- monstrated with the officers on the monstrous cruelty of putting these men to death, who might be tried by the

APFEtfBIX\ 425

laws of theh' country and appear innocent. He begged and intreated to have them sent to a gaol, and prosecuted according to law (if any proof could be brought against them) but his humane dibits proved fruitless; the men were murdered/

"On the fair day of Bally more, 5th of June, a poor man, of irreproachable character, named Kecnan, after selling his cow, had his hand extended to receive the price of her; when this valiant soldier struck him with his sword on the shoulder, and almost severed the arm from his bodv.

A young man named Hynes, a mason, passing through the fair on his way home, was attacked by this furious sav- age, and in the act of begging his life upon his knees, was cut down by the lieutenant's own hands, and left lying for dead. A clergyman, at the imminent risk of his life, flew to the victim to administer the last consolation of religion, when three of the militia were ordered back, and to make use of a vulgar phrase, made a riddle of his body; the clergyman, however, escaped unhurt. The lieutenant got. somewhat ashamed of his abuses and, by way of apology for his conduct, alleged that some stones were thrown, though it is a notorious fact that no such thing happened.

"The clerk of Mr. Dillon, of Ballymahou, being in the fair transacting his employer's business, was so maimed by this valiant soldier and his pajrty, that his life was des- paired of. Sixteen persons, whose names I have carefully entered, were so cut, maimed and abused, that many of them are rendered miserable objects for the remainder of their lives. So much for keeping the peace of the coun- try; to create inhabitants for the hospital or the grave, seems to be the favorite measure of tranquilizing a nation,

3F

426 APPENDIX.

"A village called Mayvore, was almost at the dead hour of the night set on fire, under the direction of captain Cl- aud the humane lieutenant, and burnt to the ground, ex- cept six houses. Captain 0 — , possessing a little more humanity, seemed to feel for the unparalleled distress there- by occasioned, while this modern Nero only laughed at the progress of the destructive element, and called his brother officer a chicken-hearted fellow for his seeming compassion, for feeling a pang at tUe miseries he himself created; seeing numbers of his fellow-creatures petrified with horror at viewing their little properties consumed, and afraid to make the least complaint; seeing that milita- ry execution was their inevitable fate, should they make the least murmur. Good God! is this the way to make the constitution revered, or the government respected? Had lord North still lived, and had the confidence ofJiajeshj, he -would never recommend the practice of those measures to save Ireland, which lost America.'' (Extracts from the Press, p. 2 84. J

TOM THE DEVtL.

"It is said that the North Cork regiment were the in- veuters, but they certainly were the intioducers of the pitch-cap torture into the county of Wexford. Any per- son having the hair cut short (aud therefore called croppy, by which appellation the soldiers designated an United Irishman) on being pointed out by some loyal neighbour was immediately seized and brought into a guard-house, where caps either of coarse linen or strong brown paper, besmeared inside with pitch, were always kept ready for service. The unfortunate victim had one of these well

ArPENDIX. 427

heated, compressed on his head, and when judged of a proper degree of coolness, so that it could not be easily pulled off, the sufferer was turned out amidst the horrid acclamations of the merciless torturers, and to the view of vast numbers of people, who generally crowded about the guard-house door, attracted by the afflicted cries of the tormented. Many of those persecuted in this manner, experienced anguish from the melted pitch trickling into their eyes. This afforded a rare addition of enjoyment to these keen sportsmen, who reiterated their horrid yells of exultation, on repetition of the several accidents to which their game was liable upon being turned out; for in the confusion and hurry of escaping from the ferocious hands of these more than savage tormenters, the blinded victims frequently fell or inadvertantly dashed their heads- against the walls in their way. The pain of disengaging the pitched cap from the head must have been next to in- tolerable. The hair was often torn out by the roots, and not unfrequently parts of the skin were so scalded or blis- tered as to adhere and come off along with it. The terror and dismay which these outrages accasioned, are incon- ceivable. A sergeant of the North Cork, nick-named Tom the Devil, was most ingenious in devising new modes of torture. Moistened gunpowder was frequently rubbed in- to the hair, cut close and then set on fire; some, while shearing for this purpose, had the tips of their ears cut off; sometimes an entire ear, and often both ears were completely cut off; and many lost part of their noses during the like preparation. But strange to tell, these atrocities were publicly practised without the least reserve in open day, and no magistrate or officer ever interfered, but shamefully connived at this extraordinary mode of quiet-

4-3 APi-EN'tolX.

ing the people! Some of the miserable sufferers on these shocking occasions, or some of their relations or friends, actuated by a principle of retaliation, if not of revenge, cut short the hair of several persons whom they either con- sidered as enemies or suspected of having pointed them out as objects for such desperate treatment. This was done with a view, that those active citizens should fall in for a little experience of the like discipline, or to make the fashion of short hair so general that it mlerht no longer be a mark of party distinction. Fem:de« were also ex- posed to the grossest insults from these military ruffians. Many women had their petticoats, handkerchiefs, caps, ribbons, and all parts of their dress that exhibited a shade of green (considered the national colour of Ireland) torn off, and their ears assailed by the most vile and indecent ribaldry." (Plowden, vol. TV. page 3A6.J

BLOODY FRIDAY.

"The northern part of the county of Wexford had been almost totally deserted by the male inhabitants, at the ap- proach of the army under General Needham. Some of the Yeomanry* who had formerly deserted it, returned to Go- rey, and on finding no officer of the army as was expected, to command there, they, with many others, who returned along with thera, scoured the country round, and killed great numbers in their houses, besides all the stragglers they met, most of whom were making the best of their way home unarmed from the insurgents, who were then believ- ed to be totally discomfited. These transactions being made known to a body of the insurgents encamped at Pep- parcl's Castle; they resolved to retaliate, and directly

APPENDIX. 429

marched for Gorey, whither they had otherwise no inten- tion of proceeding. The Yeomen and their associates, up- on the near approach of the Insurgents, fled hack with pre- cipitation; and thence accompanied by many others, hast- ened towards Arklow, hut were pursued as far as Cool- greney, with the loss of forty-seven men. The day was called bloody Friday. The insurgents had been exaspe- rated to this vengeance, by discovering through the coun- try as they came along several dead men with their skulls split asunder, their bowels ripped open, and their throats cut across, besides some dead women and children; they even met the dead bodies of two women, about which their surviving children were weeping and bewailing them. These sights hastened the insurgents* force to Gorey, where their exasperation was considerably augmented by discovering the pigs in the streets devouring the bodies of nine men, who had been hanged the day before, with seve- ral others recently shot, and some still expiring." (Tlouo- den, vol. V. p. 36. J

FEMALE WRETCHEDNESS.

"The Reverend Mr. Gorden, an Episcopal clergyman, recounts an occurrence aft§r the battle, of which his son was a witness, which greatly illustrates the state of the country at that time: Two Yeomen coming to a brake or clump of bushes, and observing a small motion, as if some persons were hiding there, one of them fired into it, and the shot was answered by a most piteous and loud screech of a child. The other Yeoman was then urged by his companion to fire; but being less ferocious, instead of firing, commanded the concealed persons to appear, when

430 APPENDIX.

a poor woman arid eight children, almost naked, one of whom was severely wounded, came trembling from the brake, where they had secreted themselves for safety." fPlowden, vol. V. p. 2. )

MART SMITH.

The following letter, the simple, unadorned and genuine ex- pression of misery, may serve better than the most labored strains of eloquence, to shew, that the hideous system of Marat was never practised in full vigour, but against the innocent and unresisting Irish peasant.

Moyvore, June 23, 1797. Dear James,

'Jo my great grief and sorrow I have to inform you of the untimely end of your two brothers; and, alas! me de- prived of a good husband. It is tedious to insert all the miseries the enemies to United Irishmen have brought on this neighborhood; but particularly on the town of Moy- vore, where there was forty houses and tenements burned, and levelled to the ground, on Monday night last, totally, by a boy of Pat Ward's, who was taken for robbery, and to avoid being shot, turned informer, and brought in the guilty and innocent. He first discovered where there was found arms, and that was found true, they gave his speech credit afterwards. The same day, after shooting three men, the father and two sons where they found the arms, they took poor Jack and Harry, together with one Mick Murray, and when they could not get information from them, after getting the rites of the church, they Were shot on Ballymore green. We waked them in the chapel of Moyvore, when no man dare go near us, and applied to

APPENDIX. 431

the Scully's, to shew us where we would bury them in Moran's Town, and not one ' of them would come near us; nor could we get one to carry them, until I'at Flanegan, gave us a bed to carry them to Templepatrick, where wc buried them. Harry's little effects were saved; but on ac- count of my going backward and forward to Bally more, all my effects were consumed to ashes, as there was no one to carry them out. So, my dear friend, I have no shelter here, and I will impatiently wait your answer: or if vou can afford me any relief let me know it, as poor Jack re- lied on you to relieve his children; so no more at present from a poor disconsolate widow, who subscribes herself, your loving sister-in-law. ( See Beauties of the Press, p. 346. ) MARY SMITH,

FEMALE CHASTITY.

Mr. Plowden, vol 4, p. 339, observes that "as to this species of outrage, which rests not in proof, it is universally allowed to have been exclusively on the side of the milita- ry; it produced an indignant horror in the country, for it is a characteristic mark of the Irish nation, neither to for- get nor forgive an insult or injury done to the honor of their female relatives. It has been boasted of by officers of rank, that within certain large districts a woman had not been left undented; and upon observation in answer, that the sex must then have been very complying, the reply was, that the bayonet removed all squeamishness. A lady of fashion, having in conversation been questioned as to this difference of conduct towards the sex, in the military and the rebels, attributed it in disgust to a want of gal- lantry in the croppies."

432 APPENDIX.

It had often happened to Irishmen, to he accused of too great scnsihility to the charms of the fair. It remain- ed for this desperate faction to make their generous con- tinence their crime.

The crime then of Irishmen is this, to win the fair hy persuasions, and defend them with their last drop of hlood. The boast of their enemies is, to overcome their chastity hy hrutal force, and their loathing by the bayonet. Oh, monsters! hateful in the eyes of civilized humanity! More barbarous than the tygers that prowl through the desert. When your power and your money shall cease to bear down truth, how hideous will be your name in future history!

Something similar to those boastings and those jests, is a' work lately imported into America, as the production of a British minister, Canning. There are some jokes, vapid, stale and disgusting, touching the hanging of Irish- men, and some drivelling attempts to laugh at Mr. Plow- den's preface. If that witling author, whoever he was, meant to point out to general view the abject meanness of a British cabinet, he did well to advert to that preface. If he wished to make known the spirit of the wolfish gang, he did well to simper at their atrocious deeds in Ireland.

The felonious gibes of this author, have been compared to the elegant irony of the Salmangundy. But oh how unlike! That little American work, while it gracefully wantons through the regions of taste, does not make sport for ladies, of hanging and massacreing; nor would the del- icacy and refinement of the American Fair tolerate such ruffian railleries.

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