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^Sffi 

iMiffr-T.*!'!!' 

i 

THE 


IRISH  ABROAD  AND  AT  HOME 


fir 


AT  TPIE  COURT  AND  IN  THE  CAMP. 


WITH 


SouiJMVS  of  '%\t  '^%dbe/' 


REMINISCEI\CES  OF  AN  EMIGRANT  MILESIAN. 


Vixere  fortes  ante  Agaraemnoaa 
Multi:  sed  omnes  illacrimabi'les 
Urgentur  ignotique  longa 
Nocte,  carent  quia  vate  sacro. 

HORACB. 

Les  HfUesif.ns  etaient  braves  jadia. 

French  version  o/tJu  Greek  Proverb. 


NEW    YORK: 

D.    APPLETON   AND    COMPANY, 

346    &    348    BROADWAY. 

1856. 


y  ^ 


S'JI.'jb 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  L 

Choice  of  a  theme — M.  Menneval — General  Petiet — Mr.  John  Wil- 
son Croker's  "Familiar  Epistles" — John  Lawlcss's  "Trial's  AH"      .     13 

CHAPTER  11. 
Fionn  Mac  Cumhal — "A  Giant  Refresheil" 19 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Irish  Codes  or  Bayard  —  Maolraordha  O'Reilly  —  "Myles  the 
Slasher"  —  His  heroic  defence  of  the  bridge  of  Finea  —  Death  — 
Burial  and  epitaph 24 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  first  step  the  only  difficulty — Pigault  Lebrun — Capriciousness  of 
memory — Lord  Roscommon 27 

CHAPTER  V. 

Professor  Playfair,  Horace,  and  Lord  Roscommon  on  gas-light — Ful- 
ton, Franklin,  Napoleon,  and  Marshal  Saxo  on  steam — Strada  and 
the  electric  telegraph 29 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Fall  of  Irish  families — Conquest — Penal  laws — Cousin  Robin — Confis- 
cation— Voltaire  and  his  contemporaries — Inconsistencies — William 
Todd  Jones 32 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Ingratitude  of  kings,  states,  and  princes — Oblivion  of  public  services 
— The  Irish  nearly  forgotten  in  the  theatres  of  their  exploits — Ame- 
rican Order  of  Cutciunatus 36 

CHAPTER  VIIL 

J, ally  Tollendal — A  soldier  at  eight  years  of  age — A  model  parent 
— Lally  rescues  his  father  at  Ettingen — Death  of  Marshal  Berwick 
at  the  siege  of  Philipsburg — Lally  is  sent  on  missions  to  England 
and  to  Russia — Insures  the  victory  at  Fontenoy  by  his  covp  d'ceil 
on  the  eve  of  that  battle — Is  wounded  in  the  engagement  and 
thanked  and  honoured  by  the  king,  which  he  playfully  acknow- 
ledges in  a  bon-mot  —  The  O'Briens,  Dillons,  Johnsons  —  Prince 
Nugent — Bon-mot    of    a   trooper   of   Fitz   James's"  —  Guard-room 

song  of  "  Berwick's"— The  Ca  Ira  of  Franklin 40 

(3J 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Career  of  Lally  Tollendal — He  joins  the  Pretender  in  Scotland — Bat- 
tle of  Selkirk  —  Visits  London  secretly  —  The  Jacobite  English 
Peers — Lally  is  about  being  arrested,  but  escapes  as  a  smuggler — 
Is  present  at  the  defence  of  Antwerp,  the  battle  of  Lansfeldt,  and 
the  siege  of  Bergen-op-Zoom — Is  again  wounded — Is  made  prisoner 
— Is  exchanged  and  becomes  a  favourite  and  friend  of  Marshal 
Saxe — Is  consulted  upon  the  means  for  making  war  cu  England — 
Recommends  attacking  her  by  invasion,  by  a  descent  on  her  Ameri- 
can colonies,  or  in  India — Is  appointed  to  command  an  expedition 
to  this  last-mentioned  quarter — Arrives  there — Takes  Fort  Saint  Da- 
vid and  Devicotta — Marches  on  Tanjore — Takes  Madras — Battle  of 
Vandravaches — Is  besieged  in  Pondicherry,  and  obliged  to  surrender 
— Is  sent  to  England  a  prisoner  of  war — Visits  France  on  parol  .     .     48 

CHAPTER  X. 

Lally  is  accused  of  peculation  and  high  treason — Surrenders  himself 
and  is  imprisoned  in  the  Bastille — His  trial,  conviction,  sentence, 
and  execution 66 

CHAPTER  XL 

General  discontent  at  the  execution  of  Lally — Immorality  of  Louis 
XV.,  and  his  (probably)  hypocrisy — Voltaire  aids  the  son  of  Lally 
in  his  endeavours  to  have  the  judgment  against  the  father  reversed, 
and  which  is  at  length  pronounced  by  a  decree  of  parliament,  with 
the  hearty  assent  of  Louis  XVI 60 

CHAPTER  XIL 

Lally  Tollendal  the  younger — Voltaire  on  his  death-bed  congratulates 
Lim  on  the  success  of  his  efforts — The  States-General — Lally  a 
member  of  that  body — His  admirable  conduct  on  the  eve  of  and  after 
the  taking  of  the  Bastille — Mirabeau,  Fox,  Sheridan,  and  Plowden 
(the  Historian) 62 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

Lally's  legislative  labours — History  of  a  constitution,  and  of  its  alter- 
nate reign  and  reversal — The  throne  and  the  monarch  in  peril — 
The  king's  advocates,  and  their  loyalty  and  devotion  to  him    ...     67 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Progress  of  the  revolution — Memoirs  of  Mounier,  Montmorin,  Ma- 
louet,  and  (Bertrand  de)  Molleville 70 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Reign  of  Terror — Maillard  and  the  massacres  at  the  Abbaye — 
His  horrible  sang  froid  and  dissimulation — The  Swiss  Guards — 
"A  la  Force!" — Death  of  Count  Montmorin  —  Malouet — Henry 
Brougham — Lord  Castlereagh's  figure  of  speech — The  Abb6  Gre- 
goire,  "  I'Ami  des  Noirs" — Bertrand  de  Molleville 73 

CHAPTER  XVL 

Lally  returns  to  France  on  the  advent  of  Napoleon  to  the  Consulate, 
and  flatters  him — Becomes  acquainted  with  his  uncle.  Cardinal  Fesch 
— Discourteous  bon-mota  of  Napoleon  and  Wellington  respecting 
Lally  Tollendal  and  Surgeon  O'Reilly. — Lally  and  Madame  de  Stael     77 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Political  inconsistency — Pitt — Lord  Castlereagh — The  latter  enaWes 
a,  chief  of  the   United  Irishmen  to  escape — William  IV.  and   tho 
tenacious  memories  of  the  royal  family 80 

CHAPTER  XViri. 

Coincidence  of  opinion  of  Lally  ToUendal  the  elder  and  Napoleon  of 
the  most  efSeacious  mode  of  making  war  on  England — The  faith- 
lessness of  Xapoleon  towards  the  Irish  —  Pretends  to  follow  the 
counsel  of  Arthur  O'Connor,  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  and  Doctor 
MiicNeven — The  camp  of  Boulogne — The  invasion  of  England  re- 
nounced for  the  Austrian  campaign — Mr.  Pitt  and  Lord  Nelson  on 
the  subject  of  invasion 84 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Napoleon's  egoisme  and  fatal  ingratitude  to  Poland 88 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  United  Irishmen  and  the  question  of  French  assistance — Father 
Denis  Taaffe — His  misgiving  touching  French  good  faith — The 
Poles — Ill-treated  by  Napoleon,  are  neglected  by  his  successors 
Louis  XVIII.  and  Charles  X. — They  are  cajoled,  deceived,  all  but 
betrayed  by  Louis  Philippe — Terrible  apathetic  phrase  of  Marshal 
Sebastiani,  "  Order  reigns  in  AVarsaw" — Louis  Philippe's  ruse  to 
secure  momentary  popularity 91 

CHAPTER  XXL 
The  Revolutions  of  1830  and  of  1848  in  Paris — Combated  respectively 
by  descendants  of  Irishmen — General  Wall  and  Marshal  Bugeaud 
— Colonel  Hugh  Ware  (of  Rathcoffey)  and  General  Coutard — The 
Irish  Legion  at  Astorga 93 

CHAPTER  XXIL 
Charles    X. — Marshal    Marmont — General  Wall — The   Revolution   of 

1830 — Lord   Dundonald — Culinary  acumen  of  the  Due  de  . — 

General  Vincent's  counsel  to  Charles  X.  to  resist — Is  overborne  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  retires 97 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 

Marshal  Bugeaud — Louis  Philippe  and  tho  Revolution  of  1848 — The 
disaflFected  unprepared  for  aud  surprised  by  it  more  than  the  king 
and  his  ministers — Poltronnerie — The  change  effected  by  gamins      .  101 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Louis  Philippe's  elevation  to  the  throne  in  1830 — He  mystifies  La 
Fiiyette,  Laffitte,  and  all  but  Arthur  O'Connor — La  Fayette's  "best 
of  republics,"  and  Talleyrand's  bon-viot  thereon — Mr.  Rives,  the 
American  envoy 107 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Ingratitude  of  Louis  Philippe   to    La   Fayette  — Mr.   Rivea  and  his 
imputed  influence  on  the  Revolution  of  1830— La  Fayette's  visit  to 
the  United  States — His  bonhommie HI) 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Louis  Philippe's  insincerity  and  selfishness — Proves  them  at  the  com- 
mencement of  his  reign — His  solicitude  to  obliterate  all  marks  and 
traces  of  his  ascent 113 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Un  pent  trap  t6t — The  republicans  and  Bonapartists,  who  alone  effected 
the  revolution,  roused  by  Louis  Philippe's  reactionary  policy,  and 
set  "all  right"  again  for  the  moment — A  Bonapartean  emeute — 
Marshal  Lobau's  receipt  for  dispersing  a  crowd  without  firing      .     .  116 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL 
"The  schools"  of  Paris — Their  daring  audacity  and  revolutionary 
principles — Their  pugnacity  in  presence  of  c/eua  cl'armes — They 
powerfully  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Revolujtion  of  1830 — 
Battle  of  the  Rue  Plumet — Death  of  Vanneau,  of  the  Ecole  Polytech- 
nique — "A  good  mass"  for  the  repose  of  his  soul — Accidental  deaths 
of  General  Pajol  and  of  Marshal  Excelmans 121 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Causes  of  the  Revolution  of  1848,  viz. :  Republico-Bonapartism  of  the 
nation ;  exasperated  by  the  impolitic  demonstration  of  principles 
of  legitimacy  by  Louis  Philippe,  who  dissembled  not  his  pretension 
to  reign  by  Divine  right,  nor  his  horror  of  democracy;  his  grasp- 
ing at  money;  his  accepting,  with  Madame  do  Feucheres,  participa- 
tion in  the  property  of  the  Prince  de  Conde  for  his  son;  tho  ru- 
mours that  that  prince  had  come  by  his  end  unfairly;  the  Spanish 
marriages;  the  impunity  with  which  corruption  and  embezzlement 
were  practised  ;  the  writings  of  Thiers,  Louis  Blanc,  and  Lamartine; 
and  finally,  tho  murder  of  the  Duchess  of  Praslin  by  her  husband    .  123 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Coincidences — Napoleon — The  Generals  Counts   O'Reilly — Their  ex- 
ploits respectively — The  Chevalier  O'Gorman 133 

CHAPTER  XXXL 
Mysterious  death  of  the  Viscount  Wall,  now  for  the  first  time  ex- 
plained— Tho  gallant  and  unfortunate  Theobald  Dillon 136 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
Duels  and  duellists  :  George  Robert  FitzGerald  ;  Dick  Martin  ;  Count 
Rice  ;  Nicholas  French  ;  Jack  Geoghegan  ;  Du  Barri ;  Lord  Delvin ; 
"Delvin"  O'Reilly — Anomaly  in  the  regulations  of  the  British  ser- 
vice—An island  taken  by  an  unqualified  officer  (Colonel  Keating) 
— Baron  Hompesch  and  his  "Hussians" 141 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Duraouriez  orders  Theobald  Dillon  to  Tournay,  whose  troops  mutiny, 
run  back  to  Lille,  and  assassinate  their  general — Executions  "a  la 
lantenie"  and  d  la  guillotine!" — The  murder  of  Theobald  Dillon 
avenged 14g 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Arthur  Dillon — His  distinguished  career — His  friendship  with  Camilla 


CONTENTS.  vii 

Desmoulins,  devoted  on  both  sides,  and  a  cause  of  Camillo's  destruc- 
tion; that  of  Danton  and  of  their  fellow  sufferers — Dillon's  polite- 
ness at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold— His  execution — "Vive  le  Roi !" — • 
The  widows  of  Camille-Desmoulius  and  of  "Pcro  Duchcsno"  guillo- 
tined with  him 151 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Heroic  women — Madame  Camille-Desmoulins — Madame  Lab^doycre 
— Solicit  death  respectively 155 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Camille-Desmoulins  incurs  the  resentment  of  Robespierre,  partly  be- 
cause of  his  noble  defence  of  Arthur  Dillon  in  the  Convention,  and 
pays  the  penalty  of  provoking  the  tyrant 15S 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  guillotine  en  permanence — General  James  O'Moran — Remarkable 
coincidence — The  first  and  the  last  shots  of  the  war  fired  by  Irish- 
men— Sergeant  Rousselot  the  first  French  soldier  distinguished  in 
that  war — M.  Jouy — "The  Hermit  of  the  Chaussee  d'Antin" — Aide- 
de-camp  of  General  O'Moran — M.  Tissot,  the  veteran  historian   .     .161 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Continued  Reign  of  Terror — The  Luxembourg  and  "the  Carmes" — 
General  O'Hara;  Miss  Catherine  O'Reilly ;  T.Ward;  Burke;  John 
Malone — The  massacre  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-eight  bishops 
and  other  ecclesiastics  at  the  Carmes,  with  MacCurtin,  C.  E.  F.  H. 
Macdon.ald  and  others — Thomas  Paine — Petition  of  American  citi- 
zens to  the  Convention  in  his  favour — Danton  (presiding)  accords  to 
them  "the  honours  of  the  sitting" — Danton,  himself,  arrested  and 
imprisoned  in  the  Luxembourg  —  Recognises  Paine  —  Anacharsis 
Cloots — His  rebuke  to  the  mob  at  the  scaffold 1(56 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Commissaires  de  la  Repnhliqne  direct  the  operations  of  her  fleets  and 
armies — Whimsical  nominations  to  that  office — Provost  Hely  Hutch- 
inson, of  Trinity  College,  Dublin — His  avidity — His  daughter  ap- 
pointed captain  of  dragoons  as  a  pis  al/cr — Bon-mot  upon  him  (Lord 
Donoughmore) — The  French  Provisional  Government  of  1848 — 
Named  as  commissar}'  of  the  army  in  the  North  the  editor  of  the 
Charivari — Indignation  of  colonels  reviewed  by  him — Jean  Bon  St. 
Andre  (an  ex-parson)  appointed  commissary  of  the  Brest  fleet  in 
1791 — Orders  that  the  fleet  (which  only  put  to  sea  to  protect  the 
arrival  of  provisions  from  America)  fight  the  fatal  battle  of  the  1st 
June — Military  and  nautical  incivility Ifl 

CHAPTER  XL. 

French  politeness  and  gallantry — Splendid  instance  of  it  cited  by  Lord 
Palmerston — Laughable  experience  of  a  similar  impulse  by  the  au- 
thor— An  Englishman's  love  of  fair  play — Battle  of  Carapcrdown — 
Lord  Duncan  at  prayer — Jack's  disapproval  of  its  object — An  Irish 
sailor's  reason  for  not  going  to  mass — Bitter  reflection  of  the  Turk- 
ish admiral  on  the  battle  of  Navarino — Wellington's  sagacity  and 
foresight 175 


VIU  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

"The  glorious  1st  of  June" — Jean  Bon  St.  Andr6  scratched  and  runs 
below — Lord  Howe  and  his  sailing  master — "Tom  Packenham" 
(uncle  of  General  Packenham,  killed  at  New  Orleans  in  January, 
1S15) — Lord  Howe's  estimation  of  the  qualification  for  the  rank  of 
prince  —  Duquesnoy,  an  ex-monk,  appointed  commissaire  of  the 
army  of  the  North — His  atrocious  brutality  and  infamous  reports     .  180 

CHAPTER  XLir. 
Emigration  of  the  French  princes  in  1791 — Causes  the  dissolution  of 
the  Irish   Brigade — One  portion  remains  with  the  Republic;   the 
other  follows  the  princes — Their  names 185 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
Colonel  Stack  and  the  Duke  of  York — A  new  religion — Surgeon  Egan 
is  made  prisoner  after  the  battle  of  Talavera  in  Spain — His  inter- 
view with  Marshal  Mortier  and  its  fortunate  consequences  for  him — 
Death  of  the  Marshal  by  the  infernal  machine  of  Fieschi   ....  190 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Egan's  journey  to  France — Extraordinary  adventure  of  an  English 
orphan — The  Irish  Legion — Egan  arrives  in  Paris — Is  courteously 
received  by  Marshal  Clarke  (Due  de  Feltre),  and  munificently  re- 
warded by  the  Emperor  Napoleon — Egan  arrives  in  London — His 
interview  with  the  Duke  of  York — The  O'Maraa 194 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

The  Forty-second — "He  is  my  son  I" — French  and  British  sentimen- 
tality    200 

CHAPTER  XLVL 
Egan  in  the  23d  Light  Dragoons — Captain  Power  and  fatality — Egan 
challenges  his  captain — Is  broke,  but  reinstated — Is  appointed  to 
the  12th  Light  Dragoons  (now  Lancers) — The  gallant  Colonel  Frede- 
rick Ponsonby — AVaterloo  famous  swordsmen  and  horsemen — Gene- 
ral La  Houssaye — His  desert  (according  to  English  orthography)  lea 
qnntre  mendiana — Captain  Newpor.t — Colonel  Ponsonby  unhorsed 
and  desperately  wounded — Private  John  Murphy's  occupation  at 
Waterloo— Whistles  "the  Grinder"— Fate— Ned  Kelly  and  Mon- 
tague Liud 203 

CHAPTER  XLVIL 

"Waterloo  Kelly"  of  the  1st  Life  Guards — Contributes  to  the  preser- 
vation of  the  British  army  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo — 
The  Marquis  of  Anglesey — Major  Berger — Captain  Perrott — Fate 
favourable  to  Kelly — His  death  in  India 203 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
Irish  colleges  and  seminaries  abroad — The  Irish  college  of  Paris — 
Monarchical  principles  of  its  inmates  in  1789 — Irish  foot-ball  in  the 
Champ  de  Mars — The  altar  of  the  country  profaned  by  an  Irish 
student  (Charles  O'Reilly) — Fearful  consequences — La  Fayette — 
Bailly — "  A  la  lanterne  les  calotins  !'' 214 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
St.  Patriek's  Day  in  Spain — The  n'olon — The  brigand  monk — Colonel 
Hugh  Ware — The  fruits  of  a  skinful  of  wine 217 

CHAPTER  L. 

The  Abb6  Kearney  coadjutor  of  the  Abb6  Edgworth  in  attendance  on 
Louis  XVI.  in  his  last  moments — The  execution  of  that  monarch — 
The  Abb6  Kearney  imprisoned  in  the  Temple,  but  becomes  after- 
wards superior  of  the  Irish  College — The  Abbe  Edgeworth  dies  at 
Mittau — His  epitaph  (by  Louis  XVIII.) 221 

CHAPTER  LL 

The  Reign  of  Terror — Doctor  MacMahon — He  is  accused  of  iiictvt'sme 
— Conceals  himself — Ventures  abroad — Is  detected,  but  spared,  and 
escapes  miraculously — Repairs  to  the  frontier  and  makes  two  cam- 
paigns       228 

CHAPTER  LII. 

Omens,  precursors,  and  causes  of  the  Revolution  of  1789 — Charles  X. 
and  Captain  Morris — Tho  Bastille — Louis  XVI.  and  the  Abb6  O'Neill  233 

CHAPTER  LIIL 

The  Irish  College  closed — Interregnum— The  Abbe  MacDermott — Ma- 
dame Campan — Eugene  Beauharnais — His  mother  (Josephine) — 
Jerome  Bonaparte — Scholastic  revels — The  beauties  of  the  Republic 
— Madame  Tallien  (Princess  of  Chimay)  —  Madame  Rocamier — 
"The  Vestris" — Napoleon  returns  from  Egypt — Examines  Jerome 
in  history — "Priests  and  tyrants" — Jerome  flies  from  the  cabinet  of 
the  First  Consul,  and  takes  refuge  at  the  house  of  his  mother  (Ma- 
dame Laetitia) — Is  sent  to  sea — Lands  in  America  and  marries  there 
Miss  Patterson — Returns  to  France — Is  created  King  of  Westphalia 
— Distinguishes  himself  at  Waterloo 236 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

The  Irish  College  under  the  Restoration — Church  militant — The  Abbfi, 
Captain,  and  Duellist,  Ferris — A  banquet — Captain  Murphy — A 
New  York  clipper — The  Irish  renegade,  Somers — Is  denounced, 
tried,  and  shot  in  twelve  hours  for  corresponding  with  Lord  Castle- 
reagh — The  Abb6  Ferris  twice  President  of  the  Irish  College — Chal- 
lenges Hely  d'Oissel  (Minister  for  Public  Instruction)  to  mortal 
combat — Generals  O'Connell  and  O'Mahony— Napoleon  and  the 
nuns — The  British  parliament  and  a  cardinal's  hat 239 

CHAPTER  LV. 

The  Irish  at  home — British  misrule — Sufferings  of  the  Irish — Resist- 
ance— Antagonism — Protection  afforded  to  insurgents  and  political 
offenders  by  the  peasantry — Remarks  on  education,  and  suggestions 
for  the  amelioration  of  Ireland 246 

CHAPTER  LVL 

Disaffection — Secret  societies  :    Rapparees ;  White  Boys  ;    Defenders; 
Black  Hens  ;  Caravates;  Shanavests ;  Rockites;  Moll  Doyle's  Sons; 
Carders;  Ribbonmen  (this  last  sect  founded  by  Orangemen)  .    .     .  249 
1* 


V 


X  CONTENTS. 

*  CHAPTER  LVII. 

Attack  of  the  Journal  des  Debats  upon  the  Irish  character — Reply  of 
the  author  of  this  work — The  Island  of  Saints — Saints  Columbanus, 
Colombkill,  and  Killian — The  law  of  "wager  of  battel" — Counsel- 
lor MacNally 251 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 

The  penal  laws — Their  fearful  effects  on  the  Catholics;  reduce  them 
to  the  lowest  point  of  the  social  scale — The  Balfes — Plundered  by 
means  of  a  bill  of  discovery — The  chief  of  the  family  a  turner  in 
the  United  States 258 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

The  Geoghegans — A  sham  convert — Geoghegan  of  London  conforms; 
sells  his  property  and  relapses  into  popery — His  ribald  excuse  for  it 
— Geoghegan  of  Dunowen — A  new  team 2G3 

CHAPTER  LX. 

The  reign  of  intolerance — AKject  condition  of  the  conquered  party — 
Orange  lilies — Lord  Chesterfield  and  Miss  Ambrose  (Lady  Palmer), 
"the  Dangerous  Papist" — His  Lordship's  repetition  of  that  fine  sen- 
timent and  compliment  to  George  II. — The  author's  reception  by 
Lady  Palmer  seventy  years  afterwards — His  interview  with  Madame 
de  Genlis — Lord  Edward  and  Lady  Pamela  FitzQerald — Green  cra- 
vats— "  The  glorious  and  immortal  memory  !" — "  Captain  Moll  Nu- 
gent"—Her  toast— The  Chevalier  D'Eon 266 

CHAPTER  LXL 

The  Luttrells — Junius  (Sir  Philip  Francis)  and  Henry  Lawes  Luttrell, 
Earl  of  Carhampton — The  Earl  accused  of  a  capital  offence  by  Doc- 
tor Boyton,  whom  he  challenges — Father  Fay  and  Mary  Lewellyn 
— Hamilton  Rowan  and  Lord  Carhampton — The  commander-in- 
chief  out-generalled — Scene  at  Connelly,  the  bootmaker's  ....  272 

CHAPTER  LXn. 

General  Montague  Mathew — Who  sold  the  Pass?  "Luttrell,  the  trai- 
tor"— He  is  assassinated  in  a  sedan  chair — His  compact  with  the 
evil  one — The  devil's  mills — "La  chose  impossible" 280 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 
Lord  Carhampton  aggravates  his  unpopularity  by  his  persecution  of 
the  United  Irishmen  and  his  espiotinarje  of  the  troops — Two  militia 
men  shot  for  conspiring  to  murder  him — Two  doves  rise  from  their 
bodies  and  soar  to  heaven — Saratoga — The  Highland  "watch"  and 
the  red  Indian 283 

CHAPTER  LXIV. 
Administration  of  justice  in  Ireland — State  prisoners — Bernard  Coile 
— Toasts  of  the  disaffected — Latet  anguis  in  herba — The  betrayer  of 

Robert  Emmet — Fitz-Patrick  Knaresborough — Judge  B 1  bribed 

— Knaresborough's  life  is  spared — Strange  commutation — Lord  Nor- 
bury's  inhumanity  and  repartee 287 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  LXV: 

Draco  in  Dublin — From  the  court  to  the  gallows — Cheap  detective — A 
farthing  candle  watches  over  a  purse  of  gold 293 

CHAPTER  LXVI. 

The  unspotted  ermine  of  the  bench — Bob  Moore — His  enormous  in- 
come— Brutality  and  wit — Justice  Hickey — Duelling — Grattan,  Cor- 
ry,  Curran,  FitzGibbon,  Napper  Tandy,  Toler,  Daly,  and  James 
Moore  O'Donncll 296 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

Irregularities  in  the  administration  of  the  laws — Resisting  the  sheriff 
— "Fighting  FitzGerald" — His  hon-mot  at  Versailles — His  encounter 
with  Dick  Martin — His  reception  by  Lord  Tyrawley  d  la  Baillie 
Nicol  Jarvie 300 

CHAPTER  LXVIir. 

Elegant,  educated,  travelled,  George  Robert  FitzGerald,  the  epitome 
of  riot,  turbulence,  tyranny,  and  treachery — Imprisons  his  father  in 
his  own  Castle  of  Turlogh- — Receives  the  high  sheriff  warmly — Takes 
for  his  adviser  Brecknock  of  the  London  bar,  and  engages  a  band  of 
North-country  bravos,  through  whose  counsel  and  agency  he  effects 
the  murder  of  Pat  Randall  MacDonnell — Origin  of  Lynch  law — A 
"Porteous  Mob" — George  Robert  and  Brecknock  tried,  found  guilty, 
and  executed  for  the  murder,  as  accessories,  on  the  evidence  of  the 
principal  in  it 304 

CHAPTER  LXIX. 
Counsellor   Costelloe   and   Brantome  —  Dutch   ducats  —  Cheating   the 
hangman 310 

CHAPTER  LXX. 
Nero  Norbury — Bank  prosecutions — Walter  Cox — "Billy  MacDowell" 
(jailor  of  Newgate) — Horrible  application  of  the  laws  to  bank  note 
forgers  —  Toler  in  his  glory — The  Duchess  of  Richmond  —  Moore 
hanged 317 

CHAPTER  LXXL 
Irish  Independence  declared  in   1782 — How  lost — The  Duke  of  Rut- 
land Lord  Lieutenant — "Dying  scarlet" — Convivialism  extinguishes 
patriotism 325 

CHAPTER  LXXII. 
"A  hard  drinking  neighbourhood" — The  Duke  and  Sir  Hercules  Lan- 
grishe — In    vino    Veritas — Tommy   Moore — Sheridan — Byron — The 
Rivals 328 

CHAPTER  LXXIIL 

Corporate  decorum— The  Duke  of  Rutland  at  the  Mayoralty— "  Wipe 
your  eye,  my  lord"— "No  sky-light !"—" No  heel  taps  !"— Lord 
Muskerry's  theories 331 

CHAPTER  LXXIV. 
A  fast  man— St.  George  Caulfield— His  incredible  prodigality— Is  ex- 


XU  CONTENTS. 

polled  Paris  and  France  by  order  of  Napoleon — Kitchen  wine — 
George  Nugent  Reynolds — Kilkenny  theatricals — Roger  O'Connor 
— Sir  Francis  Burdett — A  start  from  the  post 334 

CHAPTER  LXXV. 

The  Rutland  reign — "Manners,  you  blackguards  !" — Vice-regal  nights 
and  knights — The  Duke  and  the  shoe-boy 337 

CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

The  Duchess  of  Rutland  and  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Dillon — Aldermnn 
Poole — Black  Pits — "  More  pigs  than  Protestants" — The  Duke  breaks 
up — Dies — His  funeral SiO 

CHAPTER  LXXVII, 
"Clubs:"  "The  Cherokees;"  "The  Kildare  Street;"  "The  Hell-fire 
Club" — Costume  of  the  Cherokees — Lord  Llandafif  and  his  brother 
General  Montague  Mathew — Beau  Brummel 343 

CHAPTER  LXXVIII. 

Arthur  O'Connor — Henry,  Lord  Paget  (Marquis  of  Anglesey) — "Mur- 
der in  jest" — Lord  Santry  sentenced  to  be  hanged — Is  saved  by  the 
water  ordeal — Five  Irishmen  contemporary  ministers  of  war — The 
Empress  Maria  Theresa  and  O'Donnell  and  the  Empress  Josephine 
and  William  Harrison  of  Belfast 347 

CHAPTER  LXXIX. 
Ireland  and  the  Irish 351 

CHAPTER  LXXX. 
Postliminous  preface 355 


THE 


IRISH  ABROAD  AND  AT  HOME. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Les  MUesiens  avaient  iii  le  peuple  le  plus  puissant  de  la  Carie.  lis 
avaient  ontrepris,  et  soutenu  plusieurs  guerres  mSuiorables.  Elles  avaient 
envoys  de  nombreuses  colonies  dans  le  Propontide  et  le  Pont  Euxin. 

C.  De  Mery. 

I  am  curious  in  Euch  matters — believing  as  I  do  that  Secret  History  with 
her  tittle-tattle  is  far  more  to  be  relied  on  than  her  statelier  sister  with  all 
her  sonorous  periods — solemn  falsehoods — stately  didactics,  and  inconse- 
quent conclusions. — "Liverpool  Fifty  Years  Ago."  {In  the  Boston  Liberty 
Bello/1S49.) 

THE  late  excellent  M.  Mdn^val,  in  his  "  Historical  Recol- 
lections of  Napoleon  and  Marie  Louise,"  gives  the  following 
reason  for  undertaking  that  interesting  work  : 

"  I  have  long  hesitated  about  a  task  which  diffidence  in 
my  capability  rendered  me  fearful  I  should  not  be  able  worthily 
to  fulfil.  In  the  mean  while,  age  advances ;  and,  however  in- 
sufficient be  my  pen,  I  can  no  longer  postpone  giving  to  the 
world — not  memoirs,  but  some  recollections." 

With  similar  modesty  General  Petiet  exclaims,  in  his  ''  Sou- 
venirs Militaires,"  ''  A  dieu  ne  plaise  que  j'aie  I'intention 
d'4crire  I'Histoire  (de  1815);  je  n'en  ai  ni  la  pretention,  ni 
les  moyens." 

That  which  in  M.  Men^val  and  General  Petiet  was  mis- 
placed distrust  of  powers  which  each  eminently  possessed,  is 
with  me  a  profound  and  undissembled  sense  of  incapacity  for 

(13) 


14  THE    IRISH 

grave,  formal  Historical  Memoirs  of  Ireland  and  Irishmen; 
and  yet  all  my  matter  will  be  found  of  historical  character, 
referring  as  it  will  to  the  condition  of  Ireland  and  her  offspring, 
and  other  inhabitants,  during  six  hundred  years  ;  that  is,  from 
the  date  of  the  Invasion,  under  the  second  Henry  (1172),  to 
the  last  quarter  of  the  18th  century,  when  the  first  sensible 
relaxations  of  the  penal  code  (directed  against  the  Catholics 
who  constituted  the  great  mass  of  her  population),  took  place. 
It  is  however  to  the  situation  of  Ireland,  and  to  the  events 
which  took  place  there,  and  to  those  which  occurred  elsewhere 
to  Irishmen,  and  consequently  to  the  characteristics  of  the 
Irish,  between  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  and  the  middle  of 
the  reign  of  George  III.,  that  my  recollections  will  especially 
refer.  That  sad  period  when,  to  the  ordinary  inflictions  upon 
a  conquered  people  were  superadded  savage,  relentless  (mis- 
called)  "  Religious"  Persecution. 

The  alleged  motive  for  this  atrocious  augmentation  of  the 
sufferings  of  a  people  whose  only  crimes  consisted  in  defend- 
ing to  the  last  extremity  their  independence,  and  in  desperate 
fidelity  to  the  faith  of  their  ancestors,  was,  forsooth,  to  inure 
their  acquiescence  in  British  rule,  and  (as  a  means  for  insuring 
its  permanence)  conformity  to  the  religion  professed  by  the 
invaders.  Whether  this  policy  or  proceeding  be  or  be  not 
susceptible  of  defence  I  shall  not  discuss,  but  no  argument 
or  sophistry  can  excuse  or  even  palliate  the  inhuman  and 
infamous  abuse  of  the  power  delegated,  for  the  purpose,  to,  or 
usurped  by  military  chiefs,  adventurers,  and  fanatics,  and 
which  rendered  Ireland,  for  two  hundred  years  at  least,  the 
most  unhappy  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

During  those  two  centuries  oppression  and  resistance,  revolt 
and  repression,  rebellion  and  defeat,  with  their  accompanying 
horrors,  succeeded  to  each  other  incessantly  in  "  that  land  for 
which  the  Almighty  has  done  so  much  and  man  so  little." 
The  soul  sickens  at  the  catalogue  of  barbarities  on  the  one 
hand,  and  of  heroic  endurance  on  the  other,  presented  by  the 
history  of  Ireland,  throughout  the  period  just  alluded  to — 
that  is,  extending  from  the  Reformation  to  the  Declaration  of 
Irish  Independence,  in  1782. 

Mr.   John  Wilson   Croker,*  the  witty  author  of   certain 

*  Since  more  generally  and  more  advantageously  known  as  Secretary  of 
the  British  Admiralty  and  as  the  principal  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Keview 
— which  position  ho  still  occupies. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  15 

strictures  on  the  Dublin  stage,  publislicd  in  the  year  1805,  in 
the  shape  of  "  Poetical  Epistles  to  Frederick  Edward  Jones, 
Esq."  (patentee  of  the  Dublin  Theatre),  refers,  in  a  note,  to 
the  clever  play  of  my  old  and  esteemed  friend,  the  late  jMr. 
John  Lawless,  just  then  recently  brought  out  under  the  title 
''  Trial's  All."  The  hero  of  the  piece — a  romantically  patri- 
otic suitor — labours  under  a  charge  of  disaffection  to  the 
government,  and  is  finally  rewarded,  not  with  the  hempen 
halter  as  a  traitor  false,  but  with  the  noose  of  matrimony  as  a 
lover  true,  to  the  great  scandal  of  all  loyal  men — Mr.  Croker 
among  the  rest — who  asks  sarcastically,  "  what  can  have 
turned  Mr.  Lawless's  attention  to  such  Green  Street^  sub- 
jects?" 

This  question  was  understood  to  convey  something  more 
than  disapprobation  of  the  theme  chosen  by  Mr.  Lawless,  who 
had  with  several  of  his  fellow-students  (including  George 
Moore,  David  Power,  John  Keogh,  Thomas  Moore,  and  Ro- 
hert  Emmet),  been  expelled  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  seven  or 
eight  years  before,  for  suspected  disloyalty.  Thenceforward 
Mr.  Lawless  had  been  regarded  as  a  man  of  very  questionable 
politics,  a  character  which  seemed,  however,  in  no  way  to 
diminish  his  self-esteem,  self-respect,  and  complacency.  Nor 
did  it,  I  must  add,  interfere  with  the  success  of  his  drama. 

In  like  manner  I  may  be  asked,  "  why  revive  recollections 
of  painful  occurrences  and  unhappy  times  ?"  I  reply  :  ''  Limit- 
ation nans  against  continued  suppression  of  them." 

"  Be  it  so.  But  what  perversity  or  corrupt  taste  can  have 
led  you  into  this  course  of  study  and  composition  ?" 

My  answer  is,  '^  I  could  not  help  it."  The  sage  Dogberry 
laid  down  the  law  long  before  I  submitted  to  it,  for  he  held 
that 

"  To  write  and  read  come  by  nature." 

Like  Worcester — 

"Rebellion  lay  in  my  way  and  I  found  it." 

From  the  first  moment  when  I  began  to  understand  the 
conversations  held  in  my  presence,  until  that  which  supplied 
to  me  personal  acquaintance  with  and  appreciation  of  the 
afflictions  of  Ireland,  I  had  heard  of  little  else  than 

»  Green  Street,  Dublin,  is  the  street  in  which,  as  in  the  Old  Bailey,  Lon- 
don, are  situate  the  jail  of  Newgate  and  the  Criminal  Court. 


16  THE    IKISH 

"  Treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils," 

and  of  the  conflicts  of  the  Irish  with  the  invaders  of  their 
soil.  I  heard  of  Fionn  Mac  Cumhal,  and  Ossian,  and  Oscar. 
I  reverenced  the  tact,  the  courage,  and  the  patriotism  of 
Fionn  ;  and  I  admired  the  genius  of  Ossian,  and  I  pitied  Oscar 
for  the  incessant  labour  to  which  he  is  doomed  in  the  other 
•world  (in  a  place  not  to  be  named),  which  consists  in  thresh- 
ing, with  a  red-hot  iron  flail,  the  recusant  sons  of  Erin  as  they 
enter.  I  heard  of  the  Danes,  and  of  Brian  Boroimhe,  and  of 
his  son  Donoh,  and  of  his  grandson  Morogh ;  the  three  gene- 
rations who  fell  at  Clontarf,  on  Good  Friday,  1014,  in  the 
defeat  and  expulsion  of  the  Ostmen.  I  heard  of  ''  the  red- 
haired  man,"  Mac  Morogh,  who,  it  was  prophesied,  would  be 

"  Cause  of  grief  and  woe  to  Erin," 

and  of  "  the  woman,"*  who,  the  same  seer  foretold,  would 

"  Lay  waste  the  plains  of  Leinster ;" 

and  I  heard  of  her  Lieutenant  Essex,  and  his  doings ;  and  of 
StraiFord,  and  of  his  taking  unto  himself  by  forfeiture  (that 
was  the  courtly  phrase)  in  a  single  day  the  possessions  of 
seventy-five  chiefs  and  gentlemen  of  the  clan  of  the  O'Byrnes 
(one  of  them,  I  was  told,  my  maternal  progenitor),  and  which 
paternal  adoptions  constitute  at  present  the  Wicklow  estates 
of  the  Earl  Fitzwilliam,  a  great  English  nobleman,  the  lineal 
or  collateral  descendant,  I  forget  which,  of  the  propounder  of 
that  great  appropriation  clause.  I  heard  of  Maolmordha  (pro- 
nounced Meeolmora)  that  is,  Myles  O'Reilly,  or,  as  he  was 
called,  "  Myles  the  Slasher."  I  heard  also  of  Owen  Roe,  and 
of  Phelim,  and  of  (Shane)  O'Neill,  and  of  Sir  Teague  O'Re- 
gan,  and  of  the  wholesale  colonization  of  Ulster  (which  those 
who  were  excluded,  in  order  to  make  room  for  it,  unreasona- 
bly persisted  in  terming  confiscatioii),  by  that  godly  prince, 
the  foe  d  outrance  of  Papists,  witches,  and  warlocks,  James 
I., — that  monarch,  so  expert  in 

"  Reckoning  up  the  several  devils'  names." 
and  who,  by  his  autos-da-fe  of  hags  and  sorcerers,  did  so  much 

*  Elizabeth. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  17 

towards  the  illumination  of  the  world  ;*  thus  setting  to  his 
granddaughter  the  example  which  she  so  closely  imitated,  in 

"  Roasting,  just  like  crabs,  the  martyrs ;" 

and  I  heard  of  the  massacres  of  Monaghanstown,  and  of 
MuUaghmasteen ;  and  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  of  his  logical 
revenge  in  battering  down  the  north  side  of  every  church, 
tower,  and  castle  because  of  the  heroic  resistance  he  had 
encountered  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  and  of  his  pious  adjura- 
tion to  his  soldiers,  to  ''  fear  God  and  keep  their  powder  dry;" 
and  of  King  Shamus,  with  (in  Irish)  a  most  contemptuous 
epithet  thereto  attached ;    and  of   "  the  brave  Duke  Schora- 


berg,"  who 


"  Lost  his  life, 
In  crossing  the  Boyne  ■water ;" 


and  of  Luttrel,  who  ''sold  the  pass;"  and  of  the  immortal 
Sarsfield ;  and  of  the  chivalrous  Frenchman,  of  whom  the  epic 

poet  sings : 

"  Saint  Ruth  is  dead. 
And  all  the  guards  have  from  the  battle  fled  ; 
As  he  rode  up  the  hill  he  met  his  fall, 
And  died  a  victim  to  a  cannon-ball." 

After  them,  I  heard  of  the  Rapparees,  and  of  "  the  bold 
Freney,"  and  of  "  Freney's  Mountain,"  where,  when  oppor- 
tunity served,  he  exercised  reprisals  on  the  invader ;  and  of 
Father  Sheehy,  and  of  the  untimely  end  respectively  of  all  the 
jury  by  whom  he  had  been  found  guilty  (an  historical  fact,  by 
the  way)  ;  and  of  the  "  Boghalawn-Bawns"  and  "  White  Boys." 

Side  by  side  with  these,  was  the  incessant  mention  of 
forfeitures,  spoliations,  and  confiscations,  and  of  hangings, 
drawings,  and  quarterings,  and  of  "  bills  of  discovery,"  and 
of  "Protestants"  and  "Romans,"  and  of  "relapsed  Papists." 

Those  mournful  recollections  were  occasionally  relieved  by 
the  patriotic  sallies  and  waggeries  of  Swift,  who  vas  still,  in 
my  boyhood,  the  idol  of  the  old  Irish. f  To  these  quickly 
succeeded  "  the  Volunteers  of  Ireland,"  and  "  the  declaration 
of  independence,"  and  "  the  Duke  of  Leinster,"  and  "  Lord 
Clanricarde,"  and  "  Lord  Charlemont,"  and  "  Henry  Grattan," 

»  I  wonder  whether  the  Abb6  (afterwards  Cardinal)  Maury,  drew  his 
celebrated  calembourg  from  this  source. 

t  IIow  often  has  not  an  old  worshipper  of  "  the  Dane"  (as  he  pronounced 
his  quality)  taken  me  to  Hoey's  Court  in  the  city  of  Dublin,  to  point  out 
the  house  in  which  the  patriot  was  born  ! 


18  THE    IRISH 

and  '' Henry  Flood,"  and  "Edmund  Burke/'  and  "Father 
O'Leary." 

Thus  prepared  and  predisposed,  I  began,  although  then 
only  a  child,  to  acquire  some  faint  notion  of  the  bitterness  with 
which  those  references  were  uttered,  and  gathered  from  it  that 
some  party  with  whom  I  ought  to  sympathize  had  received 
injury.  Almost  suddenly,  however,  the  interest  with  which 
domestic  politics  were  viewed,  gave  place  to  foreign  topics,  or 
were  in  some  sort  identified  with  them.  "  The  French  Revo- 
lution" and  "the  Bastille,"  and  "Lafayette"  and  "the 
National  Guards"  were  jumbled  in  a  manner,  inconceivable 
by  me,  with  the  "  Irish  volunteers,"  and  "  Hamilton  Rowan" 
and  "Napper  Tandy"  and  "the  Catholic  claims,"  and  "the 
Catholic  Committee,"  and  its  chiefs  "  Tom  Broughall"  and 
"John  Keogh"  and  "Dick  McCormick"  and  "Toby  Mac- 
kenna,"  (the  latter  of  whom,  in  consequence  of  a  pamphlet  he 
wrote  unfavourable  to  the  claims  of  his  cor6ligionnaires,  was 
called  a  deserter),  and  "  Colonel  Talbot"  and  "  Sir  Edward 
Newenham,"  the  popular  candidates  for  representing  the  county 
and  city  of  Dublin  in  Parliament. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  the  formation  of  what  will 
probably  appear,  as  I  have  anticipated,  a  depraved  and 
unwholesome  taste,  which  grew  with  my  growth,  and  strength- 
ened with  my  strength;  and  which  acquired  further  force  from 
close  and  more  matured  observation  of  events,  and  from  sub- 
sequent personal  acquaintance  and  intercourse  with  some  of 
the  remarkable  men  thrown  up  by  the  volcano.  The  mass  of 
matter,  thus  accumulated  in  a  tolerably  retentive  memory,  I 
shall  now  proceed  to  lay  before  the  reader. 

Ere  I  close  this  portion  of  my  exordium,  however,  I  shall 
venture  upon  a  digression  which  will,  thus  early,  give  to  the 
reader  a  touch  of  my  quality  for  discursiveness.  In  the  fore- 
going recapitulation  of  materials  with  which,  unarranged,  my 
mind  is  stuffed,  will  have  been  observed  two  names,  Fionn 
Mac  Cumhal  and  Uaolmordha.  The  first  flouri.shed  before 
the  noble  institution  of  Scannachies  or  Bards.  We  have 
consequently  fewer  records  of  his  sayings  and  doings  than  could 
have  been  desired.  The  latter,  more  fortunate  in  that  regard, 
had  for  historian  the  late  erudite  Chevalier  0' Gorman,  from 
whose  elaborate  work  I  shall,  however,  make  only  one  extract. 
Taking  those  heroes — for  such  they  were  respectively — in 
chronological  order,  I  shall  present  the  biographical  notice  of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  10 

Fionn  Mac  Cumlial  as  it  has  been  ti'aditionally  lianded  dowu, 
and  under  its  original  title 

"  A  Giant  Refreshed." 


CHAPTER  II. 

Wise  in  council — brave  in  fijcbt. 

Ulysses. 

THE  first  Patriot  of  wlaom  I  heard  mention  made  was  Fionn 
Mac  Cumhal,  whose  contemporaries  used  to  say  that 

"None  but  himself  could  be  his  parallel." 

In  after  times,  however,  that  is,  in  the  progress  of  the  dispute 
between  the  Greeks  and  Trojans,  there  appeared  in  the  ranks 
of  the  former  a  man,  who,  if  he  did  not  rival  Fionn  "  entirely," 
approached  him  nearer  in  physical  and  mental  qualities  than 
any  who  had  figured  since  his  day,  though  ages  upon  ages  had 
passed  in  the  interval.  Stnick  with  its  admirable  appropriate- 
ness to  herald  in  my  hero,  Fionn,  I  have  chosen  a  line  from 
the  well-known  tragedy  bearing  for  its  title  the  name  of  this 
remarkable  person,  for  the  motto  of  this  my  second  chapter. 

Fionn  Mac  Cumhal  (pronounced  by  the  Firbolgs  and  their 
successors  Fimi  Mac  Cool)  was  the  head  of  a  family  and  sept 
of  giants,  and  renowned  equally  for  stature,  strength,  craft, 
and  wisdom.  Unfortunately  my  memory  is  refractory  respect- 
ing him  and  his  exploits,  two  only  of  which  live  in  it;  but 
even  these  sufiice  to  give  the  measure  of  the  man. 

It  appears,  from  the  tradition  still  tingling  in  my  ears,  that 
the  fame  of  Fionn  had  travelled  far,  and  provoked  the  jealousy 
of  a  contemporary  chief  and  giant,  who  resolved  on  seeing  the 
redoubted  Fionn,  conquering  him,  and  making  him  his  tribu- 
tary or  slave.  "With  these  amiable  intentions,  the  rival  swell 
arrived  at  Fionn's  house  early  one  fine  morning,  and  by  acci- 
dent encountered  him  on  his  threshold.  Fionn  had  either  been 
informed  of  the  proposed  visit  from  the  big  'un,  or  his  tact 
and  prevision  enabled  him  at  once  to  discover  the  quality  of 
his  visiter,  and  to  penetrate  his  object.  He  received  him, 
therefore,  with  assumed  sang  froid  and  courtesy. 


20  THE    IRISH 

The  first  salutations  having  been  interchanged,  the  stranger 
opened  the  conference  with  a  declaration  of  his  satisfaction  at 
finding  a  competitor  for  superiority  so  formidable  as  Fionn's 
respectable  conformation  announced,  and  stated  at  once  his 
purpose  of  bringing  matters  between  them  to  an  immediate 
settlement. 

''  You  have  come  at  an  unlucky  moment,  sir,"  said  Fionn; 
"  papa  is  absent." 

"  Papa  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Are  you  not  Fionn  Mac 
Cumhal  ?" 

"  Bless  you,  no  !"  said  Fionn.  "  I  am  his  '  little  Poucet/ 
as  he  calls  me ',  his  youngest  son." 

The  visiter  stared  with  astonishment,  making  inwardly  some 
observations  on  certain  indications  of  precocious  puberty  in 
his  youthful  host,  who,  unfortunately,  it  being  Saturday,  had 
omitted  shaving.  "  If  the  parent  be  on  a  corresponding  scale 
with  this  imp,"  said  he,  "■  I  shall  have  caught  a  Tartar."  He 
then  added,  aloud  :  '•'  I  regret  that  I  cannot  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  yoiir  papa." 

"  And  I  too,  sir ;  I  am  sure  he  will  be  equally  so  when  he 
hears  of  your  visit." 

"  Will  he  be  long  absent  ?" 

"  Many  hours ;  he  is  gone  out  for  a  day's  shooting." 

''  Hum  !"  said  the  giant,  aside.  '^  There  is  no  necessity  for 
haste,  then."  Raising  his  voice,  he  added  :  "  I  shall  drop  in 
another  morning,  for  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  wait  the  return  of 
your  worthy  parent  to-day.  I  feel  a  little  peckish,  however. 
My  walk  across  the  country  has  whetted  my  appetite.  Could 
you  not  let  me  have  something  to  allay  it  ?  A  snack  of  any- 
thing?    A  little  cold  meat  ?" 

"  How  unfortunate  that  you  did  not  arrive  yesterday  ?  We 
had  a  weanling  elephant  for  dinner." 

"  Capital !  Let  the  remains  be  sent  up,  with  a  little  Har\'ey, 
if  you  please." 

"  Alas,  sir !  papa  and  the  children  finished  it  nearly  at 
dinner.  For  supper  we  had  broiled  bones,  and  picked  them 
EO  clean,  that  my  sisters  made  worsted  bobbins  of  them  for 
their  tambour  embroidery." 

"  Hum  ?  A-propos,  where  are  your  brothers  and  sisters?" 

"  The  boys  are  gone  with  papa.  Sisters — taking  their  work 
with  them — have  gone  to  spend  the  day  with  a  neighbour  of 
ours — the  Queen  of  Dunshaughlin." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  2l 

Here  the  least  of  the  least  suggestion  of  suspicion  crossed 
the  giant's  mind,  but  a  glance  at  the  honest,  candid,  and  simple 
countenance  before  him  banished  the  unworthy  thought.  Still 
he  resolved  on  further  inquiry.  Therefore  addressing  Fionn, 
who  stood  respectfully  at  a  distance,  cap  in  hand,  ready  to  pilot 
hiai  to  the  high  road — he  said — "  can  I  not  have  the  honour 
of  paying  my  respects  to  mamma?" 

Fionn  filled,  as  we  say  in  the  north,  and  then  pumped — 

"And  the  big  round  tears 
Coursed  one  another  down  his  innocent  nose." 

The  giant  was  moved  at  Fionn's  pantomime. 

''  I  see  how  it  is,  my  poor  little  man,"  said  he,  patting  his 
head  kindly  :  "  I  shall  not  trespass  on  you  further.  Still  it  is 
not  possible  for  me  comfortably  to  resume  my  walk  until  I  have 
refreshed  myself  a  little.     Can  you  give  ne  mothing  ?" 

"  There's  not  a  thing  in  the  house,  sir." 

"  A  crust,  even  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Fionn,  who  now  perceived  that  if  he 
would  get  rid  of  his  guest,  he  must  enable  him  to  make  the 
start.  "  Certainly,  sir,"  said  he;  "but — comble  cle  vxalheurs! 
— the  bread  is  only  in  process  of  baking.  You  must  wait, 
therefore,  a  few  minutes  before  it  be  served.  In  the  mean 
while  I  shall  hasten  the  operations  of  the  cook,  who  is  our 
baker;" — and,  bowing  respectfully,  he  quitted  the  presence. 

Fionn  had  been  scared  nearly  out  of  his  wits  by  the  mon- 
strous proportions  of  his  visiter.  He  saw  that  in  combat,  or 
other  manual  trial  with  him,  he,  Fionn,  could  only  succeed — 
if  at  all — by  a  ruse.  Fortunately  he  was  full  of  resource,  and 
determined  on  a  grand  coup  to  extricate  him  from  the  difiiculty. 
He  therefore  sought  the  personage  he  called  his  baker,  and 
who  in  fact  was  cook,  slut,  and  butler,  a  mere  maid-of-all-work, 
and  ordered  her  to  prepare  forthwith  some  cakes  of  meslin 
(mixed  wheat  and  rye) ;  but  he  added,  that  when  the  dough 
should  be  ready,  instead  of  putting  the  cakes  on  the  griddle 
singly,  two  were  to  be  joined  together,  with  a  griddle  in  the 
centre,  so  as  to  form  a  cake  of  three  layers,  and  in  this  state 
they  were  to  be  cooked  on  embers.  "  I'll  make  him  spit  a 
tooth,"  said  Fionn,  aside. 

The  cook  was  intelligent  and  active,  and  promised  to  furnish 
forth  the  breakfast-table  within  an  hour. 

Thereupon  Fionn  rejoined  his  guest,  who  was  much  grieved 


22  THE   IRISH 

to  learn  that  an  interval  so  long  was  to  elapse  before  his  meal 
would  appear. 

"  To  beguile  the  time,"  said  he,  ''  let  us  have  a  game  of 
some  kind:  one  that  may  afford  me  an  inkling  of  the  sort  of 
education  given  you  by  your  papa." 

"  Alas  !  sir,"  said  Fionn,  ''  my  bringing  up  has  been  of  a 
very  common-place,  or  rather  of  a  peculiar  kind.  I  am  only 
taught  and  exercised  in  gymnastics." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Let  us  have  a  trial  of  that  kind — 
a  tour  de  force,  if  you  please.  I  approve  the  system  of  your 
parent  highly,  and  shall  measure  my  strength  with  you ;  for 
notwithstanding  your  early  youth,  I  find  you  a  tidy  bit  of  stuff. 
What  shall  we  have  ?" 

*' A  game  of  pigs,  sir." 

''  Pigs  !     I  never  heard  of  ihivijeu." 

'■'■  It  is  very  simple,  sir.  Papa  is  fond  of  pickled  pork,  and 
keeps  a  large  live  stock  of  the  raw  material  on  hand.  Besides 
hundreds  of  thousands  abroad  under  the  care  of  herdsmen,  he 
has  always  in  his  several  styes  as  many  more.  For  exercise, 
he  takes  me  into  the  centre  of  one  of  them,  and  tucks  up  his 
sleeves — I  do  the  same  j  and  we  commence  emptying  the  stye 
of  its  stock,  each  seizing  an  animal,  and  by  main  force  flinging 
him  out." 

" '  I  find  that  pretty,'  as  Gargantua  said  when  his  mare — a 
beast  of  quality — ^laid  waste  the  neighbouring  woods,"  observed 
the  giant.     ''  Let  us  have  a  game  of  pigs." 

Fionn  led  him  to  the  piggery,  a  large  oblong  building,  in 
which  were  in  fact  many  hundred  huge  specimens  of  the  grunt- 
ing order.  He  left  the  door  open,  and  throwing  off  his  coat 
advised  his  visiter  to  do  the  like. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  he,  when  his  guest  was  unfrocked,  "  let 
us  begin,  and  see  whether  you  or  I  am  the  stronger  and  more 
adroit." 

The  visiter  addressed  himself  to  the  strange  task  with  impa- 
tience and  vigour,  forgetting  all  observation  of  Fionn  until  he 
had  jerked  abroad  the  last  pig,  the  respectable  father  of  a  nu- 
merous family,  which  had  been  previously  evicted  by  him  with 
as  little  compunction  as  is  felt  in  the  modern  operation  of 
"  clearing"  in  the  county  of  Roscommon.  Turning  to  Fionn 
with  an  air  of  exultation,  he  found  him  mopping,  and  breath- 
ing hard,  as  if  from  fatigue ;  although  in  truth  he  had  not 
caused  a  single  shriek  of  regret,  or  a  single  tear  to  fall,  by  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME,  23 

expulsion  of  sow  or  hog  from  his  habitation.  Not  oue  of  the 
evicted  grognanh  could  say  that  by  Fionn  he  had  been 

"Forced  from  his  home,  yea  from  where  he  was  born." 

'^  Well,  that  job  is  done,"  said  the  giant,  using  his  handker- 
chief; "but  how  are  we  to  ascertain  our  comparative  merits? 
How  discriminate  between  those  thrown  forth  by  you  an,d  by 
myself?" 

"  Nothing  more  easy,"  said  Fionn ;  '^  while  you  seized  your 
animal  by  the  leg,  I  took  mine  by  the  tail :  a  particular  twist, 
taught  me  by  papa,  enables  me  to  mark  my  game  at  the  very 
moment  that  I  make  a  point.  Do  you  know  anything  of  that 
art  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Consequently,  the  animals  expelled  by  you  will  present  no 
appearance  by  which  you  can  distinguish  them ;  while  every 
pig  I  pitched  out  will  be  found  to  have  a  curl  in  his  tail." 

The  giant  cast  an  eye  abroad,  and  went  forth  with  his  wily 
host.  Nine  out  of  ten  of  the  herd  were  found  to  have  Fionn's 
mark  upon  them.  The  giant  looked  unutterable  things,  shook 
his  head,  pronounced  it  a  bad  job,  and  said  peevishly  :  "  Let's 
in  to  breakfast." 

By  this  time,  the  repast  was  served.  It  consisted  simply 
of  cakes  and  ale.  The  stranger,  ravenous,  seized  upon  one 
of  the  gateaux,  thrvist  it  between  his  jaws,  and  closed  them 
with  a  snap  and  a  report  that  would  have  startled  one  of  less 
nerve  than  Fionn.  The  consequence  upon  the  cake  was  visi- 
ble, for  he  had  bitten 

"  A  huge  half-moon, 
A  monstrous  cantle  out." 

Throwing  it  on  the  table,  with  a  roar  which  shook  the  welkin, 
he  at  the  same  moment  ejected  two  canine,  and  a  molar  of  the 
lower  set — the  last  mentioned,  it  must  be  confessed,  the  least 
bit  in  the  world  carious. 

"  What  a  deuced  hard  crust !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing!"  replied  Fionn.  "  Papa,  following 
our  countryman  Mr.  Aberuethy's  rule,  has  them  well  baked ; 
and  papa,  also  according  to  that  polite  man's  system,  masticates 
his  food  well,  and  saves  himself  the  trouble  and  the  expense 
of  calling  in  a  doctor." 


24  THE    IRISH 

"  Why,  you  do  not  pretend  to  say  ttat  this  is  the  ordinary 
bread  of  your  father  i"' 

"  Oh  !  dear,  no.  Papa  would  blow  up  the  cook  sky-high 
if  she  presumed  to  serve  up  to  him  '  soft  Tommy/  as  he  would 
call  this  crumb." 

The  stranger  looked  aghast.  Then  reconsidering — his  first 
impression  was  reproduced,  and  he  said  apart,  "  If  the  son — a 
mere  child  he  calls  himself — can  pitch  out  nine  porkers  for 
my  one,  and  if  the  father's  jaws  can  munch  granite  like  this, 
I  shall  come  off  second  best  in  a  set-to  with  him."  Rising 
incontinently,  therefore,  and  wiping  his  lips,  from  which  the 
blood  was  fast  oozing,  he  said  :  "Good  morning  to  you.  Master 
Fionn.  My  compliments  to  papa,"  and  bolted,  muttering  ma- 
ledictions on  "  Abernethy  biscuits." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"Horace  (surnomme  Codes  parce  qu'il  avait  perdu  un  ceil  en  combat) 
descendait  d'un  des  trois  guerriers  que  se  batterent  centre  les  3  Curiaces. 
Porsenna  ayant  inis  la  siege  devant  Rome  (I'an  607  a,vai)t  N.  S.  J.  C), 
chassa  les  Remains  du  Janicule  et  les  poursuivit  jusqu'a  un  pont  de  bois, 
dont  la  prise  entrainait  celle  de  la  ville  meme.  Ce  pont  n'etait  defendu 
que  par  trois  hommes — Horace  Codes,  T.  Herminius,  et  Sp.  Lartius — 
comme  ils  previrent  qu'ils  seraient  accables  par  le  nombre,  Horace  con- 
seilla  a  ses  compagnons  de  rompre  le  pont  derriere  lui,  tandis  qu'il  en 
defendrait  I'entree." 

Dictionnaire  Hisiorique. 

THE  title  "Myles  the  Slasher,"  given  to  Maolmordha 
O'Reilly  will,  to  those  unacquainted  with  the  wars  of  Ire- 
land and  the  custom  of  the  period,  appear  affected,  if  not  bor- 
dering upon  that  coarse  quality,  and  still  coarser  word,  swagger. 
It  was  however  that,  by  which  in  reward  of  his  services  was 
distinguished  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  respectable  among 
the  brave  and  respectable  chieftains,  noblemen,  and  gentlemen, 
who,  two  centuries  ago,  contended,  in  a  cause  similar  to  that 
in  which  so  many  men  sung  by  poets  and  lauded  by  historians 
struggled.  He  attempted  that  which  the  glorious  "  prophet" 
ScHAMYL  has  been  endeavouring  to  effect  with  heroic  per- 
severance during  so  many  years  against  the   giant   Russia 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  25 

without  aid,  countenance,  or  sympathy  from  nations  so  deeply 
interested  in  the  issue.     If 

"Freedom  shrieked  when  Kosciusko  fell," 

she  will  utter  a  departing  groan  when  Schamyl  shall  have  suc- 
cumbed. Toussaint  L'Ouverture,  Aloys  Reding,  Andrew  Hofer, 
Henri  Dembinski,  those  heroes  of  Saint  Domingo,  Switzerland, 
the  Tyrol,  and  Poland,  have,  within  the  present  century,  won 
golden  opinions  of  all  men,  lovers  of  liberty,  while  the 
'•  romantic  savage"  of  the  Caucasus,  ''  contending  for  every 
inch  of  ground — burning  up  every  blade  of  grass"  upon  it 
before  the  ruthless  countless  foe,  still  resists  and  will  resist 
to  the  death,  the  hordes  of  Russia,  unknown,  unsung,  un- 
pitied.  ''  Woe  worth  the  day"  when  Russia  shall  have  con- 
quered him ! 

Myles  O'Reilly  did  not  less  than  he.  Let  us  see,  however, 
what  the  historian  of  his  house  and  of  his  name  says  of  him.* 

''  Maolmordha  O'Reilly  (who  married  Catharine,  daughter 
of  Charles  O'Reilly)  was  a  very  able  captain  and  a  celebrated 
partisan  during  the  civil  wars  of  1643  in  Ireland,  and  acquired 
the  surname  of  *  Myles  the  Slasher.'  In  the  year  1644,  Lord 
Castlehaven,  then  commander  of  the  Confederate  Army  of  the 
North,  encamped  at  Granard,  in  the  county  of  Longford,  having 
ordered  iMaolmordha,  with  a  chosen  detachment  of  horse,  to 
defend  the  bridge  of  Finea  against  the  attacks  of  the  Scots, 
then  bearing  down  on  the  main  army  with  very  superior  force. 
Maolmordha  was  slain,  fighting  bravely  at  the  head  of  his 
troops,  as  a  second  Horatius  Codes,  in  the  middle  of  the  pass 
(the  bridge  of  Finea). 

''  His  body  being  found  the  next  day  among  the  dead  was 
brought  by  his  friends  to  Cavan,  and  interred  with  his 
ancestors  in  the  monastery  originally  founded  by  them  in  that 
town,  with  an  inscription  on  his  tomb,  of  which  the  last  two 
lines  were  legible  at  the  period  of  the  demolition  of  that 
splendid  monument  in  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury: 

"'Lector,  ne  credas  solum  periisse  Melonem, 
Hoc  nam  sub  tumulo  patria  victa  jacit.'  "f 

•«•  Vide   the  "  History  of   the    Illustrious   House  of  O'Reilly,"   by  the 
Chevalier  O'Gorinan. 

t  Thus  rendered  by  his  descendant,  Mr.  M.  J.  O'Reilly: 

"  '  Reader,  think  not  that  Myles  rests  here  alone. 
His  prostrate  country  lies  beneath  this  stone.'  " 

2 


26  THE    IRISH 

I  was  religiously  brought  up.  Indeed,  the  slightest  ten- 
dency towards  scepticism  or  disrespect  of  the  Sacred  Writings 
would  have  afflicted  my  family,  and  would  have  been  summarily 
reproved.  I  am  not  quite  sure,  nevertheless,  that  a  lesser 
degree  of  punishment  would  have  followed  any  expressed  doubt 
on  my  part  of  the  achievements  of  "  Myles  the  Slasher,"  with 
whom,  correctly  or  otherwise,  my  family  claimed  relationship. 
Shall  I  confess,  however,  that  it  cost  me  an  effort  to  hear  with 
gravity  the  relation  of  his  last  feat  ?  He  had  placed  himself 
in  the  centre  of  the  pass,  and  calmly  waited  the  approaching 
host,  with  the  exclamation  of  Fitzjames  in  a  similar  position — 

"  Come  one,  come  all.     This  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I;" 

Standing  erect  within  the  gorge,  he  with  his  single  hand  slew 
in  succession  four  and  twenty  of  the  assailants ;  the  twenty- 
fifth — however — 

"  A  wary,  cool,  old  sworder  took, 
The  blows  upon  his  cutlass,  and  then 
His  own  put  in — " 

for,  raising  himself  in  his  stirrups,  he  lunged  at  the  neck  of 
Myles.  The  Slasher,  missing  parry,  dipped  his  head  and 
caught  within  his  teeth  his  adversary's  sabre,  and  there  held 
it  as  in  a  vice;  then,  raising  his  own  powerful  arm,  he  lopped 
that  of  his  antagonist  which  held  the  sword — the  body  of  the 
maimed  man  falling  over  the  bridge  from  a  convulsive  move- 
ment when  struck. 

Myles,  however,  who  would  not  evade  the  Hyrcan  tiger's 
spring,  was  not  proof  against  the  coward  stratagem  to  which  the 
enemy  resorted.  Finding  him  an  isolated  man — unapproachable 
on  level  ground — they  embarked  a  company  of  halberdiers  in  a 
boat  at  hand,  and  passing  under  the  bridge  compelled  him  with 
their  pikes  to  quit  his  post.  His  flanks  uncovered,  he  ulti- 
mately fell,  the  bridge  was  traversed — and  for  the  Irish — the 
battle  lost.* 

While  yet  an  unfledged  ignorant  gamin,  I  dared  in  secret 
to  doubt  the  manner  in  which  Myles  disposed  of  his  last 
assailant,  but  was  subsequently  obliged  to  recognise  the  correct- 

> 
*  That  is — like  another  celebrated  warrior  and  patriot — Leonidas — he 
was  "  turned" — a  fault  in   the  latter  with  which  Napoleon  has  reproached 
him,  but  which,  in  Myles  O'Reilly,  was  the  inevitable  consequence  of  an 
unshrinking  sense  of  duty. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  27 

ncss  of  the  statement,  and  that  there  is  no  fact  recorded  in 
history  more  unquestionable. 

Myles,  '  un  vrai  enfant  perdu/  paid  with  his  life  for  the 
safety  of  the  army.  In  ordering  him  to  perish  rather  than 
quit  his  post,  Lord  Castlehaven  cannot,  it  would  seem,  be 
blamed.  That  which  Lord  Castlehaven  ordered  in  Ireland  in 
1644,  Kleber  commanded  in  La  Vendee,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  afterwards,  and  is  praised  for  it. 

"  At  the  battle  of  Torfau,  on  the  19th  of  September,  1793," 
said  the  late  General  La  Houssaye  one  day  to  me  (in  the  year 
1836)  "at  that  battle  Kleber  had  only  four  thousand  troops 
to  oppose  to  twenty  thousand  Vendeans,  who  outflanked  him 
through  their  superiority  in  numbers.  Kleber  consequently 
ordered  a  retreat,  which  he  nevertheless  knew  the  enemy  were 
capable  of  rendering  disastrous  to  him.  Calling,  therefore,  to 
him  a  fine  young  fellow,  named  Schwaiden,  whom  he  loved 
and  esteemed : 

"  Captain,"  said  he,  "  take  your  company  of  grenadiers  and 
stop  the  enemy  before  this  ravine.  You  yourself  will  perish, 
but  you  will  save  your  comrades." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  G-eneral,"  replied  the  brave  fellow ;  and 
everything  turned  out  as  Kleber  predicted. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Reader,  I  think  proper,  before  we  proceed  any  farther  together,  to 
acquaint  thee,  that  I  intend  to  digress,  through  this  whole  history,  as  often 
as  I  see  occasion. 

Fielding  (Tom  Jones). 

THE  French  have  a  proverb,  "  C'est  le  premier  pas  qui 
couie,"  the  truth  of  which  I  feel  painfully  at  this  moment. 
That  diflaculty  surmounted,  and  the  first  step  taken,  my  truant 
disposition  may,  I  fear,  lure  me  from  the  straight  path  which 
all  who  enter  on  a  course  like  this  are,  rigorously  speaking, 
bound  to  follow.  Should  I  so  err — should  I  deviate  from  it 
"  to  cull  a  flower  or  two" — pray  be  tolerant,  nor  urge  me  with 
the  inexorable  "  On  !  on  !"  of  Bossuet.     Thus  indulged,  my 


28  THE    IRISH 

journey  will  be  cheerfully  resumed,  and  be  better  and  earlier 
Ijrought  to  a  conclusion. 

Hesitation,  before  making  the  first  move  in  an  enterprise — 
a  literary  one  surtout — is  generally  felt.  Even  the  veteran 
novelist,  Pigault  Lebrun,  confesses  that  on  placing  himself 
at  his  desk  to  compose  a  new  romance,  he  was  subject  to  a 
similar  want  of  resolution.  He  would  "bite  his  nails,  look 
upwards  and  downwards,  and  push  the  paper  from  before  him, 
and  bespatter  the  furniture  with  the  ink  with  which  he  had 
filled  his  pen ;"  but  with  him  this  apparent  want  of  courage 
to  begin  had  its  origin  partly  in  another  cause,  namely,  his 
practice  of  sitting  down  to  indite  a  new  tale,  of  which  the 
story,  scene,  and  dramatis  personse  had  not  yet  been  conceived 
by  him. 

In  these  latter  circumstances,  among  others,  I  differ  from 
the  facetious  Frenchman.  For  example,  and  to  give  a  new 
reading  to  Sheridan's  celebrated  antithesis,  I  am  not,  as  was 
Lebrun,  obliged  to  "  draw  upon  my  imagination  for  my  facts ;" 
and  (to  be  less  like  the  author  of  "  My  Uncle  Thomas,")  I  am 
compelled  to  be  "  the  debtor  of  my  memory  for  my  wit." 

Apropos  of  my  memory.  Like  most  men  who  have  attained 
to  "a  certain  age" — or,  rather,  to  adopt  the  noble  poet's  re- 
duction of  the  figure  —  have  become  "certainly  aged,"  my 
memory,  in  respect  of  recent  events  is  less  faithful  than  it  is 
touching  facts  and  conversations  which  occurred  in  my  early 
life.  I  recollect,  for  example,  the  departure  of  two  of  my 
cousins  for  the  Irish  College  at  Lille  (France),  when  I  was 
little  more  than  three  years  old.  Therefore,  whatever  other 
qualities  for  a  chronicler  I  may  possess,  I  feel  that  I  bring  to 
the  task  a  very  tenacious  memory,  while  I  shall  confess  its 
having  failed  me  in  two  remarkable  instances,  at  the  very 
period  too,  my  boyhood,  when,  the  mind  being  unencumbered, 
knowledge  is  most  easily  acquired.  These  exceptions  are, 
total  incapability  to  bear  in  mind  the  rules  of  grammar,  or  the 
directions  for  that  very  common-place  figure  in  dancing  called, 
"right  and  left"  (the  cliaine  Anglaise  of  the  modern  Qua- 
drille). Often  have  I  blushed  at  the  confusion  I  introduced 
into  an  admirably  organized  "  set,"  but  sufi'ered  for  my  fault 
only  from  a  good-humoured  reflection  upon  my  awkwardness. 
In  the  former  respect  it  was  otherwise — my  sense  of  humilia- 
tion was  complete,  until  one  day,  in  a  biography  of  my  illus- 
trious countryman,  Lord  Roscommon,  I  found  that  he  had 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  29 

laboured  under  a  similar  unconquerable  obtusity  throughout 
life.  He  could  never  comprehend  grammar.  Had  he  kept 
his  own  secret,  the  world  would  never  have  suspected  it ;  but 
not  being  confident  that  I  should  escape  detection,  I  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it,  and  thus  artfully  bespeak  indulgence. 


•*•       CHAPTER  V. 

Ceux  qui  sontcapables  d'inventer  sont  rares  ;  ceux  qui  n'inventent  point 
sont  en  plus  grand  nombro,  et,  par  cons6quent,  le  plus  forts;  et  Ton  voit 
que,  pour  I'ordinaire,  ils  refusent  aux  inventeurs,  la  gloire  qu'ils  meriteut 
et  qu'ils  eherchent  par  leurs  inventions. 

Pascal. 

THE  mention,  in  the  last  chapter,  of  that  illustrious  Irish- 
man, Lord  Roscommon,  leads  me  naturally  this  time  into 
a  dio-ression  of  considerable  lencjth,  and  in  the  course  of  which 
I  shall  have  to  traverse  the  old  world  and  the  new.  I  should 
have  thought  that  Roscommon  was  at  the  fingers'  ends  of  every 
classical  scholar  of  Great  Britain.  What  was  my  surprise, 
therefore,  on  finding  in  Mr.  Gillies's  "  Memoirs  of  a  Literary 
Veteran,  lately  published,  an  account  of  a  convivial  meeting 
at  Edinburgh  in  the  year  1807,  composed  of  all  the  literary 
celebrities  of  Scotland,  Playfair,  Jeffries,  Lord  Lauderdale, 
Mr.  Gillies  himself,  and  several  others,  in  which  Professor 
Playfair  propounded  a  proposition  which  astounded  his  audi- 
tors, namely,  "  the  possibility  that  in  a  few  years  from  that 
date  the  streets  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh  would  be  lighted 
by  gas !" 

How  is  it  possible  that  the  galaxy  of  learned,  scientific, 
and  talented  men  enumerated  by  Mr.  Gillies,  could  have  for- 
gotten the  well  known  line  of  Ilorace  : — 

"  Non  famnm  ex  fidgore  sed  exfumo  dare  liieem," 

and,  above  all,  how  did  it  happen  that  they  bore  not  in  mind 
the  beautiful  couplet  in  which  Roscommon  rendered  it,  and 
which  flows  thus  : — 

"  One  with  a  flanh  begiii.t  and  ends  in  smoke — 
The  other,  out  of  smoke  brinos  glorious  light — " 


30  THE    IRISH 

proving  that  the  knowledge  of  flame  from  gas  was  known  (at 
least)  nearly  two  thousand  years  before. 

How  long  it  slumbered  !  and  the  discovery  of  steam,  too  ! 
by  utilizing  which  an  American  citizen  (I  was  near  claiming 
him  as  an  Irishman)  has  immortalized  himself.*  Fulton  did 
not,  it  is  true,  discover  that  immensely  powerful  agent,  but  its 
application  by  him  to  propulsion  has  all  the  merit  of  originality. 
Proposing  to  consider  the  offspring  of  Irish  parents,  though 
born  in  foreign  lands,  as  native  Irish,  my  surprise  at  the 
neglect  and  ill  treatment  of  Fulton  by  the  greatest  man  whom 
the  world  has  seen  since  Caesar,  partakes  of  resentment,  ridicu- 
lous as  it  may  appear. 

"  It  was  at  the  beginning  of  1801,"  says  M.  Bourrienne,  in 
his  Memoirs,  "  that  Fulton  presented  to  the  First  Consul  his 
Memorial  on  Steamboats.  I  urged  the  latter  to  examine  the 
subject  seriously.  '  Ah,  bah  !'  said  he,  '  all  those  inventors, 
all  those  manufacturers  of  projects,  are  either  intrigans  or 
visionaries.     Do  not  speak  to  me  again  about  him.' 

''  I  observed  to  him  that  the  man  whom  he  called  a  vision- 
ary, only  repi'oduced  an  invention  already  known.  That 
Franklin  wrote  from  Paris,  in  1788,  to  a  medical  friend  in 
America,  saying,  '  there  is  nothing  new  here  for  the  moment 
to  notice  in  science,  except  a  boat  put  in  motion  by  a  steam- 
engine,  and  which  ascends  a  river  without  other  aid.'  Napo- 
leon would,  however,  hear  nothing  more  on  the  matter ;  and 
thus  was  adjourned,  for  a  time,  an  enterprise  destined  to 
impart  to  commerce  and  navigation  such  an  immense 
impulsion." 

May  not  Napoleon  have  recollected  that  another  ''great 
captain,"  Marshal  Saxe,  had  entertained  the  idea  of  ascending 
the  Seine  in  a  vessel  without  oars  or  sails,  and  upon  which  he 
had  expended  20,000  francs,  without  other  success  than  pro- 
voking a  pleasantry  founded  on  the  rebuke  of  the  shoemaker 
by  Apelles  ?  The  preparation  of  the  craft  was  done  in  secret. 
Of  the  nature  of  its  construction  nothing  was  or  is  known.f 

*  It  would  be  ridiculous  to  dispute  with  America  the  honour  of  having 
produced  Fulton — I  only  claim  for  Ireland  that  of  having  been  the  birth- 
place of  his  ancestors,  who,  I  have  heard,  emigrated  to  Philadelphia  from 
the  county  of  Antrim,  Ireland,  somewhere  about  the  middle  of  the  last 
century. 

t  A  modern  and  (fortunately  for  his  country  I  hope)  still  existing  hero, 
General  Dembinski,  has  equally  turned  his  mind  to  this  subject,  and  has 
it  is  said  discovered  a  power  for  propulsion  of  almost  incredible  force. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOxME.  31 

Months  after  I  liad  written  the  above,  touching  gas  and 
steam,  I  was  literally  astonished  upon  reading  one  day  a  pas- 
sage in  The  Spectator  (No.  241),  which  suggested,  possibly, 
the  idea  of  The  Electric  Telegraph,  and  which  I  here 
transcribe : — 

"  Strada,  in  one  of  his  prolusions,  gives  an  account  of  a 
chimerical  correspondence  between  two  friends,  by  the  help 
of  a  certain  loadstone,  which  had  such  virtue  in  it  that  if  it 
touched  two  several  needles — when  one  of  the  needles  so 
touched  began  to  move — the  other,  though  at  never  so  great 
a  distance,  moved  at  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  manner. 

"  He  tells  us  that  the  two  friends,  being  each  of  them  pos- 
sessed of  one  of  these  needles,  made  a  kind  of  dial-plate, 
inscribing  it  with  the  foui'-and-twenty  letters,  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  hours  of  the  day  are  marked  upon  the  ordinary 
dial-plate.  They  then  fixed  one  of  the  needles  on  each  of 
these  plates  in  such  a  manner  that  it  could  move  round  with- 
out impediment,  so  as  to  touch  any  of  the  four-and-twenty 
letters. 

"  Upon  their  separating  from  one  another  into  distant 
countries,  they  agreed  to  withdraw  themselves  punctually  into 
their  closets  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  day,  and  to  converse  with 
one  another  by  means  of  this  their  invention.  Accordingly, 
when  they  were  some  hundreds  of  miles  asunder,  each  of  them 
shut  himself  up  in  his  closet  at  the  hour  appointed,  and  imme- 
diately cast  his  eye  upon  his  dial-plate.  If  he  had  a  mind  to 
write  anything  to  his  friend,  he  directed  his  needle  to  every 
letter  that  formed  the  words  which  he  had  occasion  for,  making 
a  little  pause  at  the  end  of  every  word  or  sentence  to  avoid 
confusion.  The  friend,  in  the  mean  while,  saw  his  own  sym- 
pathetic needle  moving  of  itself  to  every  letter  which  that  of 
his  correspondent  pointed  at.  By  this  means  they  talked 
together  across  a  whole  continent,  and  conveyed  their  thoughts 
t  >  one  another  in  an  instant  over  cities  or  mountains,  seas  or 
deserts." 

Now,  rejecting  the  medium  here  spoken  of,  sympathy,  and 
substituting  for  it  a  wire,  and  you  have  the  Electric  Telegraph, 
and  conceived  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago ;  for  Strada 
(he  was  a  Jesuit)  died  in  college  at  Kome,  in  1649,  at  the 
age  of  78  years. 


82  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  la  vue  de  tant  d'humiliations  et  de  souffrances  ignor^es,  ou,  du  moins, 
S,  peine  connues,  do  I'Europe — ma  conscience  m'a  fait  un  devoir  d'61ever  la 
voix. 

Pelix  Colson,  L'Etat  Prisent  et  de  I'Avenir  dea  Principatith  de  Moldavie 
et  Wallachie. 


Un  pastoreau  qui  s'appellait  Robin. 


Maeot. 


ON  commencing  the  record  of  my  recollections,  I  contem- 
plated chronological  order;  but  already  have  I,  yielding 
to  an  irresistible  desultory  impulse,  abandoned  that  commenda- 
ble resolve.  I  promise  to  be  more  consecutive  in  future,  si 
c' est  possible. 

Few  facts  in  history  are  more  surprising,  than  the  rapidity 
and  the  completeness  of  the  fall  of  Irish  families,  stricken  down 
by  the  penal  laws.  Reduced  to  beggary  at  once,  and  with 
habits  acquired  in  affluence ;  surrounded  only  by  contempora- 
ries similarly  crushed,  or  by  the  despoilers  revelling  and  riot- 
ing in  possession  of  their  forfeited  lands;  friendless  and 
unpitied ;  yea,  absolutely  persecuted  and  insulted,  rather  than 
protected  and  solaced,  because  of  the  injustice  and  the  rigour 
with  which  they  had  been  visited,  for  injustice  never  pardons 
its  victims.  Regarded  as  suspects,  from  the  reasons  for  dis- 
content so  abundantly  furnished  them,  they  seemed  strack 
with  stupor  or  paralysis,  and  utterly  incapable  of  any  effort  to 
rise  out  of  the  abyss  into  which  they  had  been  precipitated. 
Dispirited,  heart-broken,  unmanned,  they  suffered  any  little 
personal  property  which  escaped  the  fang  of  the  soi-disant 
law  to  melt  away ;  and  on  its  exhaustion  were  compelled  to 
resort  to  the  most  humiliating  means  to  prolong  existence,  and 
to  accept  for  their  helpless  offspring  the  humblest  and  most 
common-place  condition  which  promised  a  maintenance  for 
them.  "  A  trade"  was  the  general  resource  sought  for  the 
son  of  the  heretofore  chief  of  a  clan,  landholder,  or  gentle- 
man. And  this  too  in  many  cases  without  education ;  for 
instruction,  gratuitous  at  least,  could  only  be  obtained  through 
that  unacceptable  condition,  conformity  to  the  religion  of  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  33 

State.  This  gave  rise  to  Swift's  observation  to  Pope  ([  (juote 
from  memory) :  "If  you  would  seek  the  gentry  of  Ireland, 
you  must  look  for  them  on  the  coal  quay,  or  in  the  liberty."* 
Thus  in  my  youth,  "  the  Devoy,"  the  head  of  one  of  the 
most  powerful  and  distinguished  of  our  septs,  was  a  black- 
smith. I  have  often  seen  a  mechanic,  named  James  Dungan, 
who  was  said  to  be  a  descendant  of  Dungan,  Earl  of  Limer- 
ick;  and  ''the  Chcevers"  (Lord  Mount  Leinster)  was  the 
clerk  of  a  Mrs.  Byrne,  who  carried  on  the  business  of  a  rope- 
maker,  in  New  Row,  Thomas  Street,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
present  century. 

With  their  property  vanished  also  the  moral  courage,  and, 
as  I  have  shown,  the  pride  and  self-respect,  of  the  impover- 
ished. Maddened  and  embittered  by  humiliation  and  suflfer- 
ing;  renouncing  all  hope  of  recovering  their  alienated  lands; 
those  victims  of  "  bills  of  discovery"'|'  or  of  confiscation, 
burned  or  otherwise  destroyed,  or  threw  aside  as  worse  than 
useless,  the  records  of  their  former  possessions,  the  proofs  of 
their  former  i-espectability,  and  seemed  in  fact  desirous  to 
efface  all  evidence  of  it.  I  know  one  case  in  which  the  title- 
deeds  and  other  documents  connected  with  the  possession  of 
an  estate  were  searched  for  on  an  important  occasion,  and  in 
which  it  appeared  that  they  had  been  given  to  tailors  to  cut 
into  strips  or  measures  for  the  purposes  of  their  trade  ! 

So  general  was  this  indifference  at  the  period  of  persecu- 
tion (added  to  the  accidental  or  wanton  destruction  of  records 
by  other  means,  and  by  other  parties),  that  when,  about  the 
year  1815,  a  claim  was  set  up  to  a  dormant  peerage,  and  a 
relative  of  mine  having  been  applied  to  for  information  in 
support  of  it,  he  said  to  the  claimant :  ''  You  are  positively 
in  remainder,  but  you  are  in  the  condition  of  the  descendants 
of  very  many  Irish  families,  whose  great  difl&culty  is  to  prove 
who  was  their  grandfather." 

I  had  not  yet  entered  into  my  teens  when,  shortly  before 
Christmas  of  1790,  a  stranger  arrived  unexpectedly  to  visit 
my  family,  and  was  received  as  "  Cousin  Kobin,"  with  evident 

»  Meaning  that  they  were  local  porters  or  weavers — and  yet—credat 
JuJwus  ! — the  former  degrading  metier  was  declared,  by  Act  of  Parliament, 
one  of  those  to  exercise  which  a  Papist  was  ineligible. 

t  A  bill  of  discovery  was  filed  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  charging  the 
proprietor  of  an  estate  with  being  a  Catholic.     The  property  was  adjudged 
accordingly  to  the  discoverer,  unless  the  owner,  to  preserve  it,  conformed  to 
Protestantism. 
2* 


P- 


34  THE    IRISH 

affection  and  regard.  He  was,  to  me,  a  perfect  curiosity, 
for  his  manner,  language,  and  pronunciation  differed  from 
those  of  the  persons  I  had  previously  seen  and  heard  speak. 
There  was  a  certain  sensitiveness  and  fierceness,  a  mixture  of 
susceptibility  and  pugnaciousness,  about  him  which  I  could 
not  understand,  and  I  perceived  that  his  many  references  to 
"  The  English"  were  in  a  tone  which  made  my  father  serious, 
for  old  recollections  and  traditions  rendered  him  timid;  and 
which  perceiving,  Cousin  Robin's  voice  would  sink  into  a 
whisper,  for  my  parent's  gravity  would  recall  him  to  a  sense 
of  the  danger  in  which  he  himself  stood,  and  which  I  shall 
here  explain. 

Cousin  Robin  had  left  Ireland  at  an  early  age,  and — first  a 

cadet — he  soon  become  an  officer  of  the  Regiment  of ,  in 

the  Irish  Brigade.  This  must  have  been  between  the  years 
1750  and  1760.  He  had  not  consequently  seen  much  conti- 
nental service  against ''  the  eternal  enemies  of  his  House;"  but 
he  had  made  the  American  campaign  under  Rochambeau.  He 
had,  moreover,  at  his  fingers'  ends,  all  the  anecdotes  of  the 
Brigade,  and  which  had  been,  with  true  military  precision 
and  correctness,  transmitted  from  father  to  son,  or  rather  from 
each  mess  to  its  successor,  and  of  this  knowledge  he  made  no 
secret.  His  mind  appeared  to  dwell  continually  upon  "the 
Boyne,"  and  '' Aughrim,"  and  '"Limerick,"  and  ''Cremona," 
and  "  Pavia,"  and  "  Lamfeldt,"  and  "  Bergen-op-Zoom,"  and 
"  Fontenoy,"  and  upon  "  Dillon's,"  and  '•  Clare's."  and  "  Ber- 
wick's," and  '>  Fitz  James's,"  and  "  Burke's,"  and  '•'  Sheldon's." 
and  '•' Galmoy's,"  and  '' Bulkeley's,"  and  "Walsh's."  His 
quality  of  officer  in  the  army  of  France  brought  his  neck 
within  the  compass  of  a  halter  in  Ireland,  and  hence  the 
apprehensions  and  admonitions  of  my  father,  and  Cousin 
Robin's  appreciation  of  them ;  for,  I  repeat,  the  remains  of 
terror  still  existed  among  the  Catholic  Irish  of  that  day,  and 
had  nowhere  less  diminished  than  in  our  humble  circle.  I 
was  told  therefore  to  call  him  only  ''  Cousin  Robin,"  should  I 
happen  to  speak  of  our  guest  with  my  little  comrades.  This 
behest  was  however  superfluous.  I  had  never  heard  his  sur- 
name. 

Two  anomalies  were  striking  in  the  conversation  of  Cousin 
Robin.  One  was,  that  while  vaunting  the  loyalty  and  devo- 
tion of  his  ancestors  to  their  King  (James  II.),  he  suffered  to 
appear  a  feeling  of  supreme  contempt  for  that  monarch.     The 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  35 

other  was,  that  while  treating  as  infamous  and  canaille,  Vol- 
taire, Rousseau,  D'Alembert,  Grimm,  and  the  other  modern 
philosophers  of  France,  he  permitted  himself  to  use  language 
which  showed  that  he  had  not  escaped  the  contagion  of  infi- 
delity, and  which  I  well  remember  shocked  the  primitive 
religious  little  circle  who  were  his  auditors. 

Like  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  of  Balzac,  ''  Ce  bonhomme 
usait  du  privilege  qu'ont  les  vieux  gentilshommes  Yoltairiens 
de  ue  point  aller  a  la  messe ;  mais  chacun  avait  une  excessive 
indulgence  pour  son  irreligion,  en  faveur  de  son  devouement  a 
la  cause  Royale." 

In  the  first  case,  contempt  for  a  sovereign  who,  when  in 
Ireland,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  evinced  none  of  the  personal 
courage  which  he  was  said  to  have  displayed  early  in  life,  was 
mixed  up  no  doubt  with  regrets  for  the  sacrifices  made  by 
those  who  followed  him  into  exile ;  further  increased  by  the 
unjust  and  unwise  imputations  said  to  have  been  uttered  by 
him  of  the  men  who  had  risked,  and  ultimately  lost  every- 
thing, by  adhering  to  his  cause.* 

In  the  second  case,  fashion  struggled  with  principle.  The 
young  people  of  the  day  in  France  read  Voltaire,  and  yet 
boasted  their  loyalty.  They  laughed  with  him  at  religion  and 
its  ministers,  and  they  professed  themselves  ready  to  die  in 
defence  of  the  monarchy,  of  which  his  writings  sapped  the 
foundations,  and  in  this  practice  it  is  to  be  feared  Cousin 
Robin  followed  the  general  example. f 

*  A  tradition  exists  that  at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne,  an  Irish  soldier 
exclaimed,  in  the  hearing  of  James :  "  I  hold  King  William  at  the  end  of 
my  carbine,"  and  that  King  James  rebuked  him,  adding :  "What!  would 
you  make  my  daughter  a  widow  ?" 

He  was  further  accused  of  inveighing  against  his  Irish  adherents  on  his  I 
retreat  from  the  Boyne,  and  of  having,  in  the  hearing  of  a  female  domestic, 
denominated  them  cowards. 

"  Cowards  !"  exclaimed  the  woman.  "  There  is  no  such  word  as  'cow- 
ardice' in  their  language." 

In  nearly  the  same  terms  did  the  late  Sir  Robert  Peel,  in  his  speech  on 
proposing  a  Reform  of  the  Criminal  Code  to  the  House  of  Commons  some 
six  or  eight-and-twenty  years  since,  speak  of  Ireland.  Referring  to  a  par- 
ticular crime,  the  capital  punishment  of  which  ho  proposed  to  maintain, 
he  said :  "  there  is  not  in  the  Irish  language  a  word  to  express  it." 

t  The  late  excellent  William  Todd  Jones  was  eccentric  and  inconsistent 
in  another  way.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  and  a.  staunch 
democrat,  and  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Rousseau.  "I  hate  your  bigti 
wines  and  aristocratic  dinners,"  he  would  say,  while  holding  to  his  lips  a 

bumper  of  John  A 's  old  Port—"  give  mo  the  mountain  peasant  ana  tne 

pure  stream  !"  and  he  drained  his  glass  with  the  gusto  and  the  dexterity 
of  William  Pitt,  whose  feats  in  that  line  are  too  well  known  to  require 
record  here. 


36  THE    IRISH 

Disappointed  in  his  expectations  in  Ireland,  he  took  his 
leave  early  in  1791,  and  returned  to  France.  He  was  among 
the  Irish  who  emigrated  with  "  the  princes,"  and  fell,  I  sup- 
pose, in  the  campaigns  in  which  they  were  engaged,  for  we 
never  heard  more  of  him.  Owing  to  the  freedom  with  which 
he  permitted  himself  to  speak  on  religious  matters,  and  to 
acerbity  produced  by  disappointment,  a  coldness  had  begun  to 
grow  up  between  him  and  his  relatives,  who  in  consequence 
witnessed  his  departure  without  regret,  and  made  no  effort  to 
continue  their  intercourse  by  correspondence.  Some  years 
afterwards,  however,  his  failings  were  forgotten,  while  his 
anecdotes  of  the  Brigade  were  recalled  with  delight.  Like  the 
frozen  words  spoken  of  by  that  renowned  and  veracious  voyager. 
Baron  Munchausen,  and  which,  when  the  thaw  released  them, 
became  audible,  the  narratives  and  gossip  of  Cousin  Robin 
recurred  with  marvellous  exactness  to  my  memory  many  years 
afterwards,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  following  chapters. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Voila  ce  qui  reste  d'une  vaste  denomination, 
Un  souvenir  obscur  et  vain  ! 

VOLNEY. 

THE  lines  ju.st  quoted  suggested  to  me  a  painful  sensation 
when  I  first  heard  them  quoted,  for  they  were  unfeelingly 
applied  to  ''  the  Irish  Brigade,"  in  the  French  service  then, 
recently,  dissolved.  Here,  in  Germany,*  often  the  field  of  their 
exploits,  and  even  in  France,  where,  above  all  other  countries, 
their  fame  should  require  no  foreign  trumpet,  the  applicability 
of  the  quotation  is  unhappily  but  too  well  justified.  The  heroism, 
devotion,  and  fidelity  of  that  renowned  corps,  in  supporting 
and  defending  the  cause  they  espoused,  constitute  for  it  im- 
perishable claims  to  the  respect  and  admiration  of  the  living 
generation  and  of  posterity.  Alas  !  that  in  France,  whose  glory 
they  assured  in  many  battle-fields,  and  especially  in  those  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  some  of  them  comparatively  of  recent 

*  This  chapter  was  written  in  Wurtzburg. 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  37 

date,  the  memory  of  the  Brigade  ma}'  be  said  to  have  faded 
away,  and  to  exist  ouly  in  historical  and  official  records.  Few, 
lamentably  few  Frenchmen  of  the  present  day,  are  aware  even 
that  to  the  O'Briens,  the  Nugents,  the  Dillons,  the  Johnsons, 
the  Lallys,  and  their  countrymen,  companions  in  arms,  France 
was  indebted  for  the  important  victory  of  Fontenoy. 

In  a  conversation  with  a  friend,  upon  this  subject,  a  couple 
of  years  since,  I  regretted  the  ingratitude  of  the  French  to- 
wards the  Irish.  He  replied  :  "  Thus  it  ever  has  been  with 
kings,  governments,  and  princes.  Why  should  you  complain 
of  the  oblivion  into  which  the  services  of  Irishmen,  performed 
a  hundred  years  ago,  have  fallen  in  France,  when  her  own 
dazzling  feats  and  career  in  Egypt,  only  fifty  years  since  (pre- 
ceded and  accompanied,  too,  by  occurrences  which — because 
of  their  stupendous  effects — posterity  will  deem  fabulous),  are 
held  by  her  own  writers  to  have  left  behind  them  only  '  a  vain 
and  obscure  souvenir  ?'  When  has  it  been  otherwise,  even  in 
the  united  armies  of  a  coalition  ?  When  has  it  happened  dif- 
ferently to  foreigners,  though  volunteers  in  that  which  they 
deemed  the  holiest  of  causes  ?  They  ai-e,  and  ever  have  been, 
in  such  circumstances,  exposed  to  the  hardest  blows,  the  most 
painful  sufferings,  and  to  the  jealovisy  of  their  native-born  com- 
rades. The  relation  of  their  deeds  of  valour  has  been  diluted, 
or  altogether  omitted  in  the  official  reports,  or,  what  is  still 
worse,  the  credit  for  them  given  to  others.  '  There  is  glory 
for  you  !'  The  learned  Abbe  MacGeoghegan  may  have  been 
correct  in  his  estimate  that  600,000  Irishmen  perished  in  the 
ranks  of  the  armies  of  France,  but  I  am  sure  he  underrated 
them  by  one-half.  Is  not  that  fact  consolatory  to  their  coun- 
trymen ?" 

"  What  fact,  may  it  please  you  ?" 

''  The  fact  that  they  fell  fighting  for  '  La  Belle  France,'  in 
company  with  some  of  her  distinguished  sons." 

This  was  said  ironically.  After  a  pause,  he  continued : 
"  You  speak  of  Fontenoy  in  particular.  You  remember  that 
Count  Saxe,  although  deemed  dying,  and  (unable  to  remain  on 
horseback)  borne  in  a  wicker  or  basket-work  carriage,  com- 
manded in  that  memorable  action,  which  raised  the  falling 
fortunes  of  France.  How  many  Frenchmen  of  the  present 
day  are  there  who  are  similarly  informed  ?  Who,  in  France, 
recollects  him  or  his  services  ? — unless  the  student  of  history, 
or  the  traveller  who  has  seen  and  admired  his  tomb  in  the 


38  THE    IRISH 

church  of  Saint  Thomas  in  Strasbourg.  I  do  not  call  to  mind 
any  striking  instance  of  French  ingratitude,  or  injustice, 
towards  an  Irishman." 

'^  What !  Not  to  Lally  Tollendal  ?" 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  case,  and  admit  its  force ;  but  it  makes 
equally  for  my  theory,  and  your  own.  You  contend  that  Irish- 
men are  forgotten  in  France :  I  that  foreigners  are  ever  ill- 
treated.  Spain  and  Austria  would  appear  susceptible  of  favour- 
able comparison  with  France,  in  respect  of  their  conduct 
towards  your  countrymen  in  their  service ;  but  they  go  not  far 
enough  to  disprove  my  proposition.  The  case  of  the  German 
Legion,  incorporated  with  the  British  army  some  forty  years 
ago,  so  far  from  weakening,  strengthens  my  argument ;  for  it 
constitutes  the  only  complete  exception  to  the  rule.  The  grati- 
tude of  the  United  States  for  the  aid  rendered  to  America  by 
France  in  her  revolt  against  England,  was  displayed  in  thanks, 
at  the  moment,  and  in  the  creation  of  something  like  an  order 
of  knighthood  with  which  to  decorate  those  by  whom  they 
were  so  powerfully  aided  in  their  contest  for  independence,  and 
which,  to  reflecting  minds,  would  indicate  rather  an  equivocal 
appreciation  of  the  character  of  their  allies." 

"  That  is  carrying  the  commentary  too  far.  You  forget  the 
brilliant  reception  given  to  La  Fayette  when,  some  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  years  since,  he  visited  America." 

"  I  thank  you  for  reminding  me  of  that  fact,  which  I  admit 
proves  that  if  at  the  moment  when  'the  States'  were  occupied 
with  their  Constitution,  and  the  means  for  consolidating  and 
defending  it,  they  appeared  to  undervalue  benefits,  they  have, 
in  their  prosperity  (which  condition  often  renders  people  obli- 
vious), preserved  a  warm  and  perfect  recollection  of  them. 
How  few,  however — I  still  ask — are  the  instances  in  which 
nations  have  been  grateful  to  auxiliaries  !  Are  you  silent  ? 
you  say  and  with  truth,  that  '  Irishmen  have  been  brave,  and 
faithful,  and  devoted' — very  well,  France  is  'peu  reconnaissant, 
voild  tout.'  Take  it  philosophically.  If  Johnson,  and  Dillon, 
and  Clare,  and  other  illustrious  Irishmen  be  forgotten  in  France, 
in  what  state  is  the  memory  of  him  for  whom  they  so  unfor- 
tunately and  so  inconsiderately  abandoned  country,  family, 
and  fortune?  Of  the  tens  of  thousands  of  badauds  and  fan- 
bouriens  conveyed  from  Paris  and  its  suburbs — (on  Sundays 
especially),  by  rail  to  St.  Germain-en-Laye,  how  many  of  them 
know  more  than  the  popular  story  that  the  military  prison  they 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  39 

behold,  on  issuing  from  the  terminus,  was  once  the  palace  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  that  'he  abandoned  it  because  its  windows 
commanded  a  view  of  the  Abbey  of  St.  Denis,  in  which  he 
himself  would  be  entombed  ?'  How  many  of  them  remember 
that  James  II.  of  England,  to  whom  Louis  XIV.  ceded  it, 
lived  in  and  kept  in  it  '  his  mimic  Court,'  as  has  been  unfeel- 
ingly said?  and  that  he  died  in  it,  and  lies  buried  in  the  church 
opposite  to  it,  in  the  Place  du  Chateau  ?  Hundreds,  perhaps 
thousands  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Irish  army,  nobility, 
and  gentry,  of  the  period  paid  to  the  exiled  monarch  in  that 
chateau  a  homage  which  reflected  honourably  on  themselves,  and 
excited  the  admiration  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  yet  there  exist  in 
Saint  Germain's  two  indications  only  that  a  personage  once  so 
high  had  dwelt  there  and  closed  his  career  within  its  walls,  and 
not  one  that  he  was  followed  thither  by  a  crowd  of  attached  and 
honourable  adherents.  The  two  indications  I  have  referred  to 
consist  of  the  monument  raised  to  him  in  the  church  of  the 
town,  by  order  of  George  IV.,  and  the  'Hotel  du  Prince  de 
Galles,'  a  third-rate  iun  and  restaurant.  Of  the  many  Irish 
of  distinction  who  figured  at  the  chateau,  and  who  during  its 
existence  resided  in  St.  Germain's  and  its  neighbourhood,  and 
most  of  whom  ended  their  days  there,  not  a  vestige,  I  repeat, 
nor  a  name  is  to  be  found. 

"  And  whose  fault  is  that,  I  ask  in  continuation  ?  Are 
the  French  insensible  to  favours  and  services  ?  I  cannot  tell. 
The  facts  are  as  I  state ;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  the  memory 
of  the  ever  to  be  lamented  Irish  emigration  of  1690,  or  of  the 
noble  and  illustrious  men  who  sprang  from  or  followed  it, 
should  be  forgotten  by  their  own  countrymen ;  and  you  would 
probably  be  doing  an  acceptable  service  in  contributing,  by 
your  recollections  of  your  '  Cousin  Robin's'  anecdotes  of  the 
Brigade,  and  by  other  information  bearing  on  the  point,  to 
remind  the  world  of  a  corps  whose  gallant  deeds  conquered 
European  respect,  in  so  many  fields  of  carnage." 

''  But  my  cousin's  soxivenirs  were  not  all  of  an  important 
character,"  I  observed. 

''  That  is  to  say,  he  dealt  not  with  the  great  affairs  in  which 
the  Brigade  figured  ?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Those  were  his  chief  topics ;  but  they 
are  recorded  in  history.  I  could  from  his  reminiscences  add 
only  passages  omitted  by  the  historian,  because  probably  of 
their  insignificance." 


40  THE    IRISH 

''That  is  no  reason  for  their  suppression.  Try  their  effect. 
Begin  with  a  little  memoir  of  Lally,  whose  splendid  achieve- 
ments and  melancholy  fate  are  alike  nearly  forgotten,  and 
work  in  the  yet  unpublished  matter  you  possess.  It  is  the 
history  of  a  distinguished  man,  treated,  in  his  hour  of  mis- 
fortune, with  black  ingratitude  by  a  king  and  a  country  who 
had  recognised  and  lauded  his  heroism  and  other  great  deserts. 
His  fate  adds  force  to  the  advice,  '  Put  not  thy  faith  in 
princes ;'  revives  contempt  and  abhorrence  for  the  wretched 
voluptuary,  who,  while  by  his  sensualities,  he  was  preparing 
the  sanguinary  revolution  which  destroyed  his  successor  and 
terminated  the  sovereignty  of  his  race,  consoled  himself  with 
the  egotistical  reflection  that  the  day  of  reckoning  would  not 
arrive  during  his  time.  When  counselled  to  amend  his  ways, 
he  exclaimed,  as  all  the  world  knows,  '  Apres  nous  It  cUlaye.'  " 

In  asserting  the  military  eminence  of  the  Irish  abroad,  it 
would  be  superfluous,  for  the  majority  of  my  readers,  that  I  do 
more  than  allude  to  "  The  Irish  Brigade."  As  however 
the  history  of  that  celebrated  corps  is  not  yet  written  (although 
much  desired  and  highly  desirable),  and  is  consequently 
unknown  to  the  world  in  general,  I  shall  here  attempt,  not  its 
history,  but  a  sketch  or  two  suggestive  of  the  qualities  which 
obtained  for  it  an  unperishable  name. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  tous  les  degrfis  le  mfitier  des  armes  est  noble ;  parce  que  pour  tous  il 
se  compose  de  sacrifices,  et  se  rScompense  avant  tout  par  I'estime  publique. 
Marshal  Marmont,  Esprit  des  Institutions  Militaires. 

THOMAS  ARTHUR  LALLY  (O'Mullally),  Count  de  Tol- 
lendal  or  Tollendally  in  Ireland,  was  born  at  Romans  in 
Dauphiny,  now  the  department  of  the  Drome  (France).  He 
was  christened  on  the  15th  January,  1702.* 

"  It  might  be  said  with  reason,"  say  the  Chronicles,  "that 
Lally  became  a  soldier  at  his  birth,  for  (on  the  1st  January, 

.  ,  *  Archives  of  the  French  Ministry  of  War. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  41 

17 09 J  he  received  his  coiumiysion  of  captaiu  iu  the  Irish 
infantry  regiment  of  Dillon,  of  which  his  father,  Sir  Gerard 
Lally,  was  Colonel-commandant,  and  of  which  General  Dillon, 
the  uncle  of  the  latter,  was  '  Colonel-proprietor.'  He  was  not 
yet  eight  years  old  when,  in  September,  1709,  his  father  had 
him  with  him  at  Gerona,  under  canvas,  '  wishing,'  as  that  kind 
parent  fondly  expressed  it,  '  to  make  him,  by  at  least  smelling 
powder,  to  gain  his  first  step,'  and  he  had  not  attained  the  age 
of  twelve  years,  when  that  pattern  father  caused  him  to  mount 
his  first  trench  at  Barcelona,  in  1714;  and,  after  that  vacation 
amusement,  sent  him  back  to  college." 

This  species  of  education  developed  speedily  in  young  Lally 
a  lively  inclination  for  a  military  life,  but  which  did  not  pre- 
vent his  pursuit  of  classic  learning,  nor  his  acquiring  a  know- 
ledge of  the  living  languages  of  Europe,  and  of  the  history, 
manners,  and  interests  of  the  various  nations  of  which  that 
quarter  of  the  globe  was  composed.     Endowed  with  an  excel- 
lent memory,  perspicuity,  and  appreciation,  rude  health,  vast 
bodily  strength,  and  astonishing  activity  of  mind,  eveiything 
became   easy  to  him.      He  was  as   successful    in  bodily  as  in 
mental  exercises,  and  would  have  obtained  rapid  advancement 
in  the  military  service,  but  for  the  eccentricity  of  his  father, 
which   retarded  it.     He   became    captain   of  a   company  in 
"  Dillon's"  on  the  15th  of  February,  1728,  only,  and  aide- 
major  of  that  corps  the  26th  of  January,  1732.     He  served 
at  the  siege  of  Kehl  in  1733,  and  distinguished  himself  there 
by  his  brilliant  valour  and  his  rare  military  knowledge.     He 
was  present  at  the  attack  on  the  lines  of  Ettingen  in  1734. 
His  father,  then  a  brigadier-general,  by  whose  side  he  fought, 
having  been  wounded,  was  about  being  made  prisoner,  when 
young  Lally  flew  to  the  rescue,  covered  his  body  with  his  own, 
and  succeeded  in  saving  the  life  and  preserving  the  liberty  of 
his  parent.       He  served  in  the  same  year  at  the   siege  of 
Philipsburg,  which  fell  on  the  18th  of  July,  and  was  close  to 
Lord  Clare  O'Brien  when  a  cannon-shot  struck  the  latter  on 
the  shoulder  and  killed  his  uncle.  Marshal  Berwick,  who  was 
by  his  side.     In  the  year  1735,  Lally  distinguished  himself 
at  Clausen,  and  returned  to  the  command  of  a  company  on  the 
1st  of  November  of  that  year. 

In  1737  he  proceeded  to  England,  to  assure  himself  by  his 
own  observation  of  the  strength  still  remaining  to  the  Stuarts 
in  that  country ;  and  returned   to  France,  after  arranging  a 


42  THE    IRISH 

correspondence  with  the  principal  partisans  of  James  II.,  and 
on  the  6th  of  February,  1738,  was  made  captain  of  grenadiers 
in  his  (Dillon's)  regiment. 

About  that  time  Cardinal  Fleury,  then  Prime  Minister  of 
France,  expressed  a  desire  to  find  among  the  foreigners  at- 
tached to  the  French  service,  a  man  whose  reputation  for  intel- 
ligence and  courage  might  ju-stify  him  in  confiding  to  him  the 
secret  and  perilous  mission  of  proceeding  to  Russia,  with  the 
double  object  of  detaching  that  power  from  its  alliance  with 
England,  and  of  attaching  it  to  France.  Recommended  by 
MM.  de  Belleisle  and  De  Chavigny,  Lally  was  chosen  for  that 
important  duty,  and  succeeded  in  commencing  under  most 
favourable  circumstances  the  negotiation  with  which  he  was 
charged.  The  indecision  of  the  French  ministry,  and  its 
avoidance  of  a  definitive  explanation,  were  such,  however,  that 
he  was  obliged  to  relinquish  his  task  and  to  quit  St.  Peters- 
burg (where  his  further  stay,  without  orders,  would  have  ex- 
posed him  to  personal  danger),  and  return  to  France. 

On  his  arrival  in  Paris  he  presented  to  Cardinal  Fleury  two 
memoirs :  one,  relating  to  the  internal  statistics  of  Russia ; 
the  other,  an  expose  of  her  foreign  relations  and  of  her  foreign 
and  commercial  policy ;  but  the  representations  of  Lally  became 
fniitless,  owing  to  the  incapacity  of  the  French  ministry.  The 
negotiation  commenced  by  him  fell  to  the  ground;  and  Russia 
entered  into  the  league  against  France. 

On  the  24th  of  November,  1741,  Lally  was  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  major  in  Dillon's  regiment,  and  in  that  quality 
served  in  the  defence  of  Flanders.  The  talents  he  displayed 
there  induced  Marshal  de  Noailles  to  demand  him  for  aide- 
major  of  the  army  under  his  command ;  and  in  that  capacity 
he  fought  at  the  great  battle  of  Dettingen  in  1743,  in  which 
the  French  were  defeated. 

On  the  19th  of  February,  1744,  he  received — anew — his 
appointment  of  aide-major  to  the  army  of  Flanders  with  the 
rank  of  colonel  of  infantry,  under  the  orders  of  his  friend 
]Marshal  de  Noailles,  and  was  present  at  the  sieges  of  Menin, 
Ypres,  and  Fumes.  From  Flanders  he  marched  to  Alsace, 
and  fought  at  the  affair  of  Hao'uenau. 

In  reward  of  his  services,  now  the  theme  of  admiration, 
an  Irish  regiment  was  created  for  him  on  the  1st  of  October, 
1744,  bearing  his  name.  The  whole  of  the  ensuing  winter 
he  employed  in  organizing  and  instructing  his  regiment,  and 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME,  43 

with  such  success  was  this  eflfected,  that  in  four  months  it  be- 
came a  model  of  discipline. 

On  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  Lally,  having  gone 
on  a  reconnoitering  party,  discovered  a  road  which  led  from 
Anthoin  to  Fontenoy,  and  which  had  been  erroneously  consi- 
dered impassable.  He  perceived  that  by  this  road  the  French 
army  would,  in  the  impending  action,  be  inevitably  turned. 
By  Lally's  advice,  the  end  of  it  was  seized  upon,  occupied, 
and  fortified  with  three  redoubts  and  sixteen  pieces  of  cannon, 
"  a  precaution  to  which  was  incontestably  due  the  success  of 
the  action."* 

"  During  that  celebrated  battle,f  the  Irish  Brigade  contri- 
buted powerfully  to  the  victory,  piercing  with  the  bayonet  the 
flank  of  the  terrible  English  column,  while  the  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu, with  the  household  troops,  attacked  it  in  front."  After 
the  battle,  Lally,  who  had  been  slightly  wounded,  was  sitting 
on  a  drum,  surrounded  by  a  considerable  number  of  mutilated 
soldiers  of  his  own  regiment,  and  having  by  his  side  several 
English  officers,  his  pi-isoners,  to  whom  he  was  tendering  as- 
sistance and  relief,  when  the  Dauphin  arrived  at  full  gallop,  to 
announce  to  him  the  approbation  and  acknowledgments  of  the 
King. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Lally  to  the  Prince,  ''  these  favours 
are  like  those  of  the  Scriptures  :  '  they  fall  on  the  blind  and 
the  lame.' " 

In  saying  these  words,  he  pointed  to  his  lieutenant-colonel, 
who  had  received  a  stab  of  a  bayonet  in  the  eye,  and  his  aide- 
major,  through  whose  thigh  a  musket-ball  had  passed. 

The  King's  appreciation  of  the  service  he  had  rendered 
did  not,  however,  terminate  in  mere  words,  for  calling  him  to 
the  head  of  the  army,  he  created  Lally  a  brigadier-general  on 
the  field  of  battle. 

Shall  I  be  pardoned  a  digression  here?  I  have  just  stated 
that  the  covp-d'ieil  of  Lally  had  enabled  him  to  secure  victory 
to  the  army  in  which  he  served  (a  victory  so  honourably 
acknowledged  by  Marshal  Saxe).  An  accident,  some  half  a 
century  later,  obtained  for  another  Irishman  (now  Prince 
Nugent),  and  for  the  Austrian  army  of  Italy,  in  which  at  the 
time  (1795  or  1796)  he  was  only  a  captain,  similar  advan- 

*  See  published  papers  of  Marshal  Saxo. 
f  Chronologie  Militairc. 


44  THE    IRISH 

tages.  He  had  one  day  retired  to  a  sequestered  spot  on  the 
edge  of  a  morass,  from  whence  he  saw  at  some  distance  a  corps 
of  French  hussars  manoeuvring  on  ground  deemed  impracti- 
cable for  cavahy.  Next  day,  when  both  armies  were  in  position, 
and  immediately  before  the  battle  began,  the  Austrian  general 
(I  think  it  was  Melas)  said  to  an  oflBcer  of  his  staff,  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  Nugent, 

"  The  victory  would  be  ours  if  I  could  pass  a  division  of 
cavalry  to  that  point,  on  the  flank  of  the  French  army  which 
holds  itself  sufficiently  protected  by  the  morass. 

'^  I  will  undertake  to  conduct  one,  sir,"  exclaimed  Nugent. 

"■  If  you  do  that,  and  you  succeed,"  replied  the  general, 
"  the  service  will  be  remembered." 

The  corps  accordingly  was  marched  under  the  guidance  of 
Nugent,  and  turned  the  French,  whose  defeat  was  the  con- 
sequence. 

"I  do  not  say,"  observed  the  late  General  Ambrose  (on 
whose  authority  I  give  the  anecdotTe),  "  that  Nugent's  courage 
and  intelligence  would  not  have  insured  to  him,  sooner  or 
later,  the  honours  and  distinctions  he  enjoys  ;  but  this  all- 
important  service  which  sheer  accident,  unquestionably,  placed 
in  his  power  to  perform,  accelerated  his  advancement." 

The  particulars  of  the  battle  of  Fontenoy  are  too  well 
known  to  require  recapitulation  here.  None  but  a  jealous 
Frenchman  ever  disputed  the  credit  of  the  victory  with  the 
Irish.  More  than  one  English  writer  in  admitting  the  fact 
complacently  observes  that,  "it  was  not  to  Fi'cnch  prowess 
they  succumbed."  If,  however,  the  details  of  the  fight  are 
to  be  found  in  history,  one  or  two  little  anecdotes  preserved 
at]  the  mess  of  "  Dillon's"  will  possibly  be  received  with 
favour.  How  many  have  we  not  of  \Yaterloo  !  How  few  those 
of  Fontenoy,  with  which  Europe  rang  in  1745,  as  it  did  with 
"  Waterloo"  sixty  years  afterwards.  It  is  well  that  the  honour 
of  the  latter  victory  cannot  be  denied  to  Ireland. 

Long  after  he  had  left  Ireland.  Cousin's  Robin's  anecdotes 
and  reminiscences  were  recalled  in  the  conversations  of  our 
family.  Of  the  battle  of  Fontenoy  he  recounted  all  the 
incidents  recorded  in  the  Military  Annals  of  the  time,  adding 
to  them  several  occurrences,  narrated  by  the  actors  in  that  im- 
portant engagement.  For  instance,  he  related  a  story  of  two 
of  Fitzjaraes'  dragoons,  whose  horses  having  been  killed,  had 
joined  Clare's  grenadiers,  and  continued  to  fight  in  line  with 


ABROAD    AND    AT   HOME.  45 

their  carbines.  Subsequently  a  cannon-shot  from  an  enfilading 
battery  of  the  enemy  carried  off  the  legs  of  both,  whereupon 
one  of  Clare's  remarked :  "  There  are  two  troopers  who 
will  want  no  more  boots."  '^  You  may  jest  with  impunity," 
replied  one  of  the  poor  fellows;  "  you  are  not  afraid  of  our 
kicking  you  as  you  deserve  for  your  honmot  !" 

"  At  Fontenoy,"  said  Cousin  Robin,  "  some  extraordinary 
wounds  were  inflicted.*  Captain  Creagh,"  (father  or  grand- 
father of  the  lady  of  Colonel  Luke  Allen,  who  lived  in  Dublin 
some  six  or  eight-and-thirty  years  since)  "  received  a  musket 
bullet  in  the  breast,  which  shattered  his  cross  of  St.  Louis, 
and  passed  so  completely  through  his  body,  that  several  pieces 
of  the  cross  were  extracted  from  the  wound  made  in  his  back 
by  the  issue  of  the  ball  and  from  which  he  recovered.  He 
was  soon  after  presented  to  Louis  XV.,  who  said  kindly, 

"  '  The  enemy  marked  you  well,  for  they  knew  your  value. 
So  do  I;  and  to  render  you  less  an  object  for  their  shot  for 
the  future,  I  will  give  you  a  cross  that  they  will  not  be  able 
to  perceive  unless  in  close  quarters.' 

"This,"  continued  Cousin  Eobin,  ''was  the  origin  of  the 
small  cross  that  afterwards  became  uniform,  except  on  state 
occasions." 

Their  brilliant  services  at  Fontenoy,  and  their  almost  coin- 
cident bravery  and  success  at  Tournay,  having  rendered  the 
Irish  Brigade  favourites  of  the  French  monarch,  they  became 
objects  of  envy  and  jealousy  with  the  army  in  general.  Louis 
himself  never  ceased  speaking  in  their  praise,  but  his  friendly 
disposition  was  powerfully  checked  by  the  malevolence  of  those 
by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and  especially  by  him  who  best 
knew  the  deserts  of  the  Irish — D'Argenson,  Minister  of  War. 

The  feeling  of  both — the  sovereign  and  his  minister — to- 
\vards  the  Irish  was  admirably  exemplified  in  an  instance  well 
known,  perhaps,  but  not  so  universally  so  as  to  render  unpar- 
donable its  mention  here. 

Presuming  on  their  recent  and  unquestionable  claims  to 
favour,  the  corps  of  the  brigade  made  an  assault  one  day  upon 
the  minister  in  full  levee,  at  Versailles.  Each  was  armed  with 
documents  and  certificates  in  support  of  his  particular  demand, 
and  struggled  to  present  them. 

*  I  recollect  to  have  heard  from  a  military  medical  man,  that  a  sergeant 
of  the  Guards,  shot  through  the  heart  at  AVatorloo,  was  transported  to  Chat- 
ham, and  survived  for  fourteen  days. 


46  THE   IRISH 

"  Fire  in  each  eye  and  papers  in  each  hand," 

they  pursued  D'Argenson  tlirougli  the  salon.  At  length  ho 
took  refuge  in  the  recess  of  a  window.  The  rush  upon  him 
now  became  tremendous ;  each  lunging  and  poking  at  him 
with  his  dossier  over  the  shoulders  of  those  of  his  comrades, 
who  had  succeeded  in  arriving  at  the  Minister's  presence.  By 
a  desperate  effort,  D'Argenson  disengaged  himself,  forced  an 
opening  through  the  mass  of  his  assailants,  and  reaching  the 
circle  of  which  the  King  was  the  centre,  exclaimed : 

"  Sire,  that  Irish  Brigade  of  your  Majesty  gives  me  more 
trouble  than  the  rest  of  your  entire  army." 

*'  My  enemies  say  the  same  of  them,"  replied  Louis. 

Neither  the  King's  friendship  for  them  nor  the  jealousy 
of  courtiers  or  rivals  prevented,  however,  their  being  em- 
ployed in  every  quarter  where  danger  presented  itself,  and 
where  valour  and  military  knowledge  were  required  for  the 
service  of  France.  Of  this  the  continuation  of  the  biograph- 
ical notice  of  Lally  Tollendal  will  afford  abundant  evidence. 
But  ere  we  postpone  for  the  present  our  reference  to  the  battle 
of  Fontenoy,  which  if  lost  would  have  been  as  fatal  for  France 
as  was  that  of  Waterloo,  three-quarters  of  a  century  later- 
wards,  I  shall  close  this  chapter  with  a  Guard  Room  Song  of 
the  Brigade,  founded  upon  that  action,  and  rescued  from  obli- 
vion by  my  recollection  of  it,  as  sung  by  Cousin  Robin  in  his 
ultra  Anti-English  moments.  The  music  and  the  poetry  are 
not*  first  rate,  perhaps,  but  equal  in  each  respect  to  those  of 
the  more  celebrated  Ca  Ira!*  of  the  French  Montagnards, 
and  the  Yankee  Doodle  of  Brother  Jonathan. 

*  Is  it  superfluous  to  observe  here,  that  this  exciting  (perhaps  atrocious) 
song  of  the  Reign  of  Terror  in  France,  took  its  title  and  its  burden  from  an 
expression  of  Franklin,  who,  residing  in  Paris  throughout  the  American 
War  of  Independence,  used  to  exclaim  when  any  new  advantage  was  gained 
by  his  countrymen — "Ca  Ira  I" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME. 


47 


THE  BATTLE  OF  FONTENOY. 

GnAED  ROOM  SONQ  OP  "  BEEWICK'S,"  TO  THE  AIR  OF  THE  MAJICQ  OF  THE  RBOLMKNT. 


I ^±~L^r:\^. 


V=^^- 


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w^9~ 


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y^-^zL. 


^ 


^1— p- — ^ — 

The    first  day    of  May,  in     tho    year   of  for      ty-five. 


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fv 


:^=^: 


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\ 


The  French  and   the    En  -  glish    in 


bat    -   tie     did  strive, 


To     see  who'd  be  vic-to-  rious  at     the     siege      of  Tournay, 


Ltf_A 


^— #— ^-^"f^lg 


T 


P 


ZTJSLlIZll 


'¥- 


And  there  hea  -  vy    can  -  non  most      loud  -   ly     did  play. 


Duke  AVilliam  he  commanded  the  English  in  chief, 
But  he  lost  the  battle  that  day  to  his  grief; 
From  two  in  the  morning  they  fought  until  noon,  ^-w 

But  fortune  it  smiled  on  the  House  of  Burhoon.  V^ 


Oh  !  what  brave  generals  the  Irish  had  there  ! 
There  was  Johnson,  and  Dillon,  and  the  brave  Lord  of  Clare, 
Who  swore  they'd  be  revenged  for  the  wrongs  that  were  done 
At  Aughrim,  at  Limerick,  and  likewise  the  Boyne. 


Then  bespoke  the  Lord  of  Clare  with  courage  so  bold — 
Saying  "  my  loving  countrymen  of  Ireland's  true  mould- 
Lot  us  take  courage  and  boldly  advance 
And  destroy  all  those  heretics  who  drove  us  to  France." 


0. 


Count  Saxe  he  commanded  his  cannon  for  to  roar. 
The  English  never  hoard  such  a  volley  before. 
Three  hundred  and  sixty  brass  cannon  he  lot  fly 
Whifh  caused  all  poor  'Tournay  for  "quarter"  to  cry. 


48  THE    IRISH 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Blow,  blow,  thou  Winter's  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
As  man's  ingratitude. 

Freeze — freeze — thou  bitter  sky, 
That  dost  not  bito  so  nigh 
As  benefits  forgot. 

^s  yoit  like  it. 

WE  left  Lally  wounded,  but  recompensed,  on  the  field  of 
Fontenoy. 

A  very  short  time  after  the  reverses  of  the  allies  in  the  Low 
Countries,  the  Pretender  made  his  appearance  in  Scotland, 
raised  the  standard  of  his  grandfather,  and  was  immediately 
joined  by  tens  of  thousands  of  his  adherents.  Informed  of 
these  events,  and  deeming  them  capable  of  restoring  the  son 
of  James  II.  to  the  British  Crown,  Lally  besieged  all  the  men 
of  influence  in  the  Palace  of  Versailles  to  obtain  the  despatch 
of  an  expedition  of  ten  thousand  men  in  support  of  Prince 
Charles.  His  project  was  seized  upon  with  avidity.  A  fleet 
was  prepared  in  the  harbours  of  Boulogne  and  Calais ;  an 
army  was  assembled ;  and  the  5th  of  January,  1746,  was 
named  for  the  departure  of  the  expedition,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  it  is  true ;  but  Voltaire,  not 
always  favourable  to  the  Irish,  as  we  know,  states  that  Lally 
was  the  life  and  soul  of  it.  The  expedition  encountered  many 
obstacles,  insomuch  that  Richelieu,  being  annoyed  at  them, 
resigned  the  command  of  it,  and  it  was  abandoned.  Lally  was 
not,  however,  a  man  to  be  turned  from  his  purpose  by  delays 
or  difficulties.  At  the  head  of  a  small  body  of  Irish  he  sailed 
and  joined  the  Pretender,  whom  he  served  as  counsellor  and 
aide-de-camp  at  the  battle  of  Selkirk — the  last  success  gained 
by  the  Prince. 

Lally  subsequently  made    a  secret  journey   to    London.* 

*  The  celebrated  Irish  portrait-painter,  Hamilton  (who  possessed  afund  of 
information  on  this  period — how  acquired  I  forget),  after  referring  to  the  Pro- 
tender's  visit  to  London,  incog.,  with  the  view  ascribed  to  Lally,  stated,  that 
the  abandonmsnt  of  the  Pretender's  cause  was  the  result  of  a  secret  meeting 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  49 

Thence  he  proceeded  to  Spain  and  Flanders,  and  returned 
once  more  to  London,  where  a  reward  was  offered  for  his  head 
by  the  government.  He  was  on  the  point  of  being  arrested ; 
but  escaped  in  the  garb  of  a  sailor,  in  which  disguise  he  fell 
into  the  hands  of  a  party  of  smugglers,  who,  deceived  by  it, 
compelled  him  to  join  them  in  their  search  for  the  traitor 
Lally,  for  whom  they  would  receive,  they  assured  him,  "  a 
high  price."  Lally  persuaded  them,  however,  that  a  richer 
prize  might  be  gained  on  the  coast  of  France,  with  which,  he 
said,  he  was  perfectly  acquainted,  and  offered  to  become  their 
guide.  The  smugglers  accepted  the  proposition ;  and  were 
led  by  the  advice  of  the  wily  and  malicious  Lally  into  the 
midst  of  a  French  naval  force,  by  whom  they  were  made  pri- 
soners. It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  on  declaring  his  quality, 
he  was  himself  landed  and  set  at  liberty. 

Having  returned  to  Versailles,  he  resumed  his  efforts  to 
obtain  the  organization  of  another  expedition  in  aid  of  the 
Stuarts,  when  the  loss  of  the  battle  of  Culloden  put  an  end  for 
ever  to  the  hopes  of  that  ill-fated  House. 

In  the  following  year  Lally  served  with  great  distinction  at 
the  defence  of  Antwerp,  at  the  battle  of  Lansfeldt,  and  with 
eclnt  at  Bergen-op-Zoom,  where  he  was  incessantly  in  action — 
now  in  the  trenches,  now  at  the  head  of  detachments.  On 
one  occasion  he  was  wounded,  and  nearly  overwhelmed  by  the 
explosion  of  a  mine. 

After  the  siege  of  Bergen-op-Zoom,  which  was  taken  by 
assault,  Lally  opened  the  trenches  against  Fort  Henry,  which 
capitulated  "the  same  day.  He  next  proceeded  to  open  the 
trenches  against  Lille,  and  afterwards  to  attack  the  Fort  de  la 
Croix,  "wishing  to  take  both  places  at  the  same  moment." 
Discontented  with  the  result  of  a  reconnaissance  he  directed 
to  be  made,  he  resolved  to  reconnoitre  for  himself,  and  was 
proceeding  on  that  undertaking  when  he  fell  into  the  hands 
of  a  party  of  the  enemy's  hussars,  who  made  him  prisoner. 
He  was  speedily  exchanged,  however,  and  rejoined  3Iarshal 
Saxe,  of  whom  he  became  the  confidant,  and  was  one  of  his 

of  the  heads  of  the  Jacobin  party,  held  at  the  house  of  the  E.irl  of  West- 
moreland of  that  day,  at  which  the  utter  futility  of  further  attempt  to  restore 
the  e.xiled  family  was  demonstrated.  Mr.  Hamilton  added,  that  it  was  in 
Lord  Westmorehmd's  house  that  the  Pretender  was  concealed,  and  which 
having  been  communicated  to  George  the  Second,  that  Monarch  uttered  tho 
generous  sentiment  ascribed  to  him — and  which  was  in  effect:  "Let  the 
poor  man  look  about  him  and  depart." 

3 


50  THE    IKISH 

principal  iustruments  in  that  superb  military  operation,  tbe 
investment  of  Maestriclit,  in  1748.  During  the  siege  of  that 
place  Lally  divided  with  the  Marquis  de  Cremilles  the  func- 
tions of  Marshal-general  des  logis  of  the  army.  In  the  course 
of  the  operations  he  was  again  wounded,  but  was  rewarded  on 
the  very  day  of  the  capitulation  of  jMaestricht  with  the  rank 
of  Major-general,  as  he  had  been  made  Brigadier-general  on 
the  field  of  battle  at  Fontenoy. 

It  would  appear  that  from  1748  to  1755,  Lally  was  out  of 
his  element,  and  inactive  on  the  coast  of  Picardy,  under  the 
command  of  Marshal  de  Belleisle.  In  this  latter  year  he  was 
summoned  to  Paris,  to  be  consulted  on  the  means  of  inflicting 
reprisals  on  the  English,  who  had  taken  two  French  men-of- 
war  on  the  coast  of  Newfoundland. 

"  Three  means  present  themselves,"  said  Lally. 

"  Name  them,"  said  the  Council. 

"  Make  a  descent  upon  England  with  Prince  Edward,  the 
young  Pretender ;  attack  and  reduce  the  power  of  the  English 
in  India;  conquer  their  colonies  and  possessions  in  America." 

The  Council  decided,  however,  that  they  preferred  to  ne- 
gotiate, and  seek  satisfaction  in  that  way,  and  thus  avoid  a 
rupture. 

"Then,"  said  Lally,  "you  will  fail.  You  will  not  obtain 
the  one,  nor  will  you  prevent  the  other ;  and  you  will  lose  the 
opportunity  of  destroying  your  enemy." 

After  pronouncing  this  prediction  (which  was  accomplished 
in  all  its  parts),  Lally  returned  into  Picardy.  He  was  again 
summoned  to  Paris  in  1756,  when  he  was  informed  that  one 
of  his  propositions  of  the  preceding  year  was  adopted  by  go- 
vernment, and  that  an  expedition  against  the  East  Indies  was 
in  preparation.  The  command  of  this  was  ofi"ered  to  Lally, 
and  was  accepted  by  him.  The  offer  was  accompanied  by  pro- 
motion to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-general  (dated  19th  of  No- 
vember), together  with  the  command  of  the  troops  already 
sent  thither.  He  was  also  named  Commander,  and  afterwards 
Grand  Cross  of  the  Order  of  St.  Louis.  To  these  distinctions 
were  added  his  nomination  to  the  post  of  Syndic  (or  Chair- 
man) of  the  East  India  Company,  and  Governor-general  of 
all  the  establishments  of  France  in  the  East  Indies. 

After  a  variety  of  disappointments  and  impediments,  which 
retarded  the  sailing  of  the  expedition  by  seven  months,  it 
sailed  on  the  2d  of  May,  1757,  but  was  much  reduced  in  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  51 

strength  origiually  contemplated.  Instead  of  six  sail  of  the 
line,  with  a  treasury  of  six  millions  (£240,000  sterling)  and 
six  battalions  of  land  troops  promised  to  Lally,  two-thirds  only 
of  that  amount,  in  ships,  men,  and  money,  were  supplied.  It 
would  almost  seem  that  from  the  first  this  expedition  was  pre- 
destined to  be  a  failure.  Its  conception  had  been  treated  as 
visionary;  its  preparation,  when  resolved  on,  proceeded  languid- 
ly ;  and  when  ordered  to  depart,  it  had  been  so  diminished  in 
force  as  to  increase  considerably  the  risks  it  would  have  to  en- 
counter. But  this  was  not  all :  instead  of  arriving  in  the  East 
Indies  in  seven  months,  the  longest  period  in  which  the  voyage 
was  made  in  those  times,  it  only  reached  its  destination  on 
the  28th  of  April,  1758,  or  nearly  a  year  after  its  departure 
from  France. 

Immediately  on  making  the  land,  Lally  determined,  with  his 
characteristic  activity  and  energy,  to  make  up  for  the  time  lost 
at  sea.  His  first  achievement  was  to  invest  Fort  St.  David, 
which  from  its  sti'ength  was  termed  ''  the  Bergeu-op-Zoom  of 
India."  With  a  force  of  two  thousand  two  hundred  men,  and 
a  park  of  artillery  consisting  of  only  six  mortars  and  twenty- 
two  pieces  of  cannon,  he  commenced  the  siege  of  a  place 
covered  on  the  side  on  which  only  it  could  be  attacked,  by 
ramparts  furnished  with  a  hundred  and  ninety-four  guns  of 
hea\'}'  calibre,  and  a  garrison  of  two  thousand  seven  hundred 
men.  He  carried  all  the  forts  by  assault,  however,  on  the  8th 
of  May,  opened  the  trenches,  and  in  spite  of  the  paucity  of 
his  materiel,  and  the  refusal  of  a  part  of  the  squadron  to 
co-operate  with  him,  he  compelled  Fort  St.  David  to  surrender 
at  discretion  on  the  1st  of  June.* 

Having  ordered  the  fort  to  be  rased,  he  marched  on  Devi- 
cotta,  a  town  and  fort  of  Hindostan,  situate  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Colran,  forty-three  miles  distant  fi'om  Pondicheny  and 
sixty-two  from  Tanjore,  which  immediately  opened  its  gates  to 
him.  Seventy  pieces  of  cannon,  large  magazines,  and  a  consi- 
derable extent  of  territory,  were  the  fruits  of  this  conquest. 
In  short,  in  the  space  of  thirty-eight  days  from  his  disembark- 
ation, he  had  swept  the  whole  coast  of  Coromaudel  of  the 
enemy. 

Alarmed  for  the  safety  of  Madras,  the  English  authorities 
assembled  there  the  garrisons  of  all  the  towns  abandoned  by 

*  Speaking  of  this  enterprise,  the  Count  d'Estaing  said  :  "  Its  success 
alone  could  prove  its  possibility." 


52  THE   IRISH 

them  in  the  North.  Lally,  on  his  side,  impatient  to  besiege 
them  in  their  capital,  threw  forward  detachments,  and  at  the 
same  time  sent  orders  to  Lieutenant-colonel  Bussy  and  the 
Councillor  Moracin,  who  respectively  commanded  the  French 
forces  in  the  Deccan  and  in  Mausilipatam,  to  join  him  with 
their  troops.  He  wrote  to  them  :  "■  My  entire  theory  is  com- 
prised in  five  words;  they  are  sacramental:  'plus  d' Anglais 
dans  la  Peninsule.'  " 

The  Count  d'Ach^,  however,  who  commanded  the  French 
squadron,  declared  on  the  17th  of  June  that  he  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  second  the  siege  of  Madras ;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  Leyrit,  Governor  of  Pondicherry,  wrote,  that  after  a 
fortnight  from  that  date,  he  would  discontinue  to  pay  or  pro- 
vision the  army.  Disaj^pointed  and  disabled  by  these  circum- 
stances, Lally  listened  to  a  proposition  to  march  against  the 
Rajah  of  Tan j ore,  and  oblige  him  to  pay  thirteen  millions, 
due  by  him  to  the  French  East  India  Company.  For  this 
purpose  he  put  his  troops  in  motion  to  traverse  an  enemy's 
country  of  fifty  leagues,  but  had  not  got  a  fourth  of  that  dis- 
tance, when  his  little  army  found  itself  destitute  of  provisions. 
During  twelve  hours,  the  soldiers  had  not  tasted  food.  Three 
times  did  they  in  their  fury  set  fire  to  Devicotta.  Neverthe- 
less, Lally  continued  his  march  on  Tanjore,  the  Rajah  having 
repudiated  his  debt  and  refused  payment. 

Arrived  at  Tanjore,  Lally  occupied  the  outlets  and  com- 
menced battering  the  town  en  bi-eche;  but  learning  that  the 
French  naval  squadron  had  sustained  a  second  defeat,  and  that 
Karrical  and  even  Pondicherry  were  threatened,  a  council  of 
war  was  assembled  on  the  8th  of  August,  by  Lally,  which 
decided  upon  retreating  at  daybreak  on  the  day  next  but  one 
following. 

This  intention  was  betrayed  by  an  extraordinary  incident. 
Fifty  horsemen  of  the  army  of  the  Rajah  had  bound  them- 
selves to  each  other  to  kill  the  French  G-eneral,  and  presented 
themselves  at  his  tent  on  the  morning  of  the  10th,  to  offer,  as 
they  said,  their  services  to  him.  Lally  jumped  out  of  his  bed, 
and  taking  time  only  to  pull  on  his  drawers,  went  to  receive 
them.  Scarcely  had  he  made  his  appearance,  when  one  of  the 
horsemen  rushed  upon  him,  and  attempted  to  cut  him  down. 
Lally  parried  the  blow  with  a  stick  he  happened  to  have  in  his 
hand,  and  the  assassin  was  killed,  at  the  same  moment,  by  one 
of  the  General's  guards.     Lally,  having  been  knocked  down 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  53 

by  two  kicks  of  a  horse,  rose  with  fury,  and  seizing  a  sabre, 
fought  with  the  assailants  at  the  head  of  his  guards,  and  with 
such  resolution  and  effect  that  twenty-eight  of  the  fifty  Tanjore 
horsemen  fell  at  his  feet,  twenty-one  were  drowned  in  a  lake, 
in  attempting  to  escape,  and  the  fiftieth  blew  himself  up  by 
setting  fire  to  a  caisson,  attached  to  a  gun  close  at  hand. 

This  explosion  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  meditated  flight 
of  the  French.  The  entire  garrison  of  Tanjore,  comprising 
sixteen  thousand  men,  commanded  by  English  ofiicers,  marched 
from  the  town  upon  Lally,  who  repulsed  them  upon  every 
point.  After  unheard-of  difficulties,  he  succeeded  in  effecting 
his  retreat;  having  levied  on  the  inhabitants,  during  two 
months,  contributions  in  provisions,  and  five  hundred  thousand 
francs  in  money. 

Still  full  of  his  project  against  Madras,  Lally  was  most  de- 
sirous to  pursue  the  enemy ;  but  was  prevented  from  it  by  the 
refusal  of  the  naval  squadron  to  co-operate  with  him  j  and,  in 
fact,  it  sailed  from  Pondicherry. 

In  the  mean  while,  Lally  watched  for  the  withdrawal  of  the 
British  fleet  to  winter  at  Bombay,  and  on  the  very  day  of  its 
quitting  for  that  destination,  he  sent  his  army  against  four 
fortified  places  in  the  dominions  of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  and 
marched  himself  upon  the  capital.  In  an  inci'cdibly  short 
space  of  time,  he  made  himself  master  of  all  those  four  places, 
and  secured  to  the  East  India  Company  the  revenues  of  the 
whole  country.  At  Arcot,  he  was  joined  by  Colonel  Bussy; 
but  the  latter,  whose  jealousy  and  hatred  of  him  Avas  intense, 
continued  incessantly  to  demand  to  be  sent  into  the  Deccan 
with  a  third  of  the  army  intended  to  operate  against  the  Eng- 
lish. Lally,  whose  heart  and  soul  lay  in  the  capture  of  Mad- 
ras, imagined  that  he  might  insure  the  co-operation  of  Bussy 
by  promoting  him  to  the  rank  of  Brigadier-general ;  but  Bus- 
sy, accepting  the  offered  grade,  persisted  nevertheless  in  his 
request  to  be  sent  into  the  Deccan.  An  irreconcilable  schism 
arose,  therefore,  between  the  two  Generals.  The  King's  troops 
took  part  with  Lally :  those  of  the  Company  Avith  ]iussy.  Lally 
continuing  inflexible,  the  Council,  to  whom  the  question  was 
referred,  concluded  by  adopting  his  proposition  :  a  resolution 
due  in  great  measure  to  the  Count  d'Estaing,  who  asked  :  *'  Is 
it  not  better  to  die  of  a  musket-shot  on  the  glacis  of  Madras, 
than  of  hunger  on  those  of  Pondicherry  ?" 

To  carry  this  project  into  execution,  money  was  indispens- 


64  THE   IRISH 

able.  A  subscription  was,  therefore,  proposed.  Bussy  would 
not  contribute  a  single  sou  :  Lally  advanced  one  hundred  and 
forty-four  thousand  livres;  and  with  that  feeble  resource  he 
put  in  motion  three  thousand  European  and  five  thousand  na- 
tive troops,  took  four  fortified  places  on  his  march,  and  entered 
as  conqueror  the  city  of  3Iadras  on  the  14th  of  December, 
1758. 

He  proceeded  immediately  afterwards  to  reconnoitre  Fort 
St.  George,  and  having  received,  most  opportunely,  from  Eu- 
rope a  million  of  livres,  he  opened  the  trenches  before  that 
fortress,  which  enclosed  a  garrison  of  five  thousand  men.  Four 
times  during  his  investment  of  the  place  the  enemy's  army  in 
the  field  attempted  to  force  him  to  raise  the  siege,  and  were 
as  many  times  defeated  and  put  to  flight.  At  length  Lally 
succeeded  in  making  a  breach  in  the  works,  and  proposed  a 
general  assault  in  the  night  of  the  16th-17th  of  February, 
1759,  when  an  English  squadron,  composed  of  six  sail  of  the 
line,  arrived  as  by  a  miracle,  revictuallecl  the  city  and  reinforced 
its  garrison  by  six  hundred  British  soldiers  with  ammunition 
and  supplies  of  every  kind.  This  circumstance  obliged  Lally 
to  raise  the  siege  and  retire  to  Pondicherry  the  same  day,  17th 
of  February. 

On  the  17th  of  October  of  the  same  year,  his  army,  to 
whom  ten  months'  pay  were  due,  revolted ;  and  Lally  was  again 
obliged  to  raise  a  subscription,  to  which  he  contributed  fifty 
thousand  francs,  and  succeeded  in  re-establishing  order  among 
his  troops. 

He  still,  with  his  handful  of  men,  continued  his  usual  course 
of  active  operations  against  the  English ;  carried  off  their 
magazines  from  Cangivaron,  and  took  Vandravache  (which  the 
French  chroniclers  turned  into  Vin  de  VdcJies)  sword  in  hand, 
"  entering  the  breach  himself  at  the  head  of  the  storming- 
party,  when  of  seven  volunteers  who  accompanied  him,  three 
fell  dead  at  his  feet."*  He  was,  however,  beaten  on  the  27th 
of  January,  1760,  under  the  walls  of  the  place  by  the  English, 
less  by  the  enormously  disproportionate  force  of  the  enemy, 
than  through  the  defection  of  his  own  cavalry,  who  some  time 

*  Cousin  Robin  gave  a  different  and  a  more  correct  account  of  this  bril- 
liant affair  from  tliat  above  quoted.  He  stated  ttiat  it  was  to  Colonel  Charles 
Geoghegan,  of  Sionan,  Westmeath,  that  this  important  success  was  due,  and 
this  I  heard  afterwards  (in  1816)  confirmed  by  Captain  John  Geoghegan, 
of  "  Berwick's,"  son  of  the  Colonel. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  55 

afterwards  sold  themselves  to  the  Indian  chiefs,  and  passed 
over  to  them. 

On  the  18th  of  March,  1760,  two  English  squadrons  com- 
menced the  blockade  of  Pondicherry,  and  continued  it  during 
an  entire  year,  Lally  maintaining  himself  with  his  usual  reso- 
lution, in  spite  of  the  famine  and  consequent  discontent  which 
prevailed  in  the  garrison.* 

On  the  13th  of  Januaiy,  1761,  Pondicherry  was  threatened 
with  assault.  Upon  which  Lally,  although  exceedingly  ill, 
directed  that  he  might  be  carried  to  the  ramparts,  and  there 
with  his  own  feeble  hands  divided  the  last  hog.shcad  of  wine 
remaining  to  him  among  the  exhausted  canonniers.  On  the 
14th,  the  Council  of  War  recommended  him  to  capitulate; 
but  the  British  General  (Coote)  insisting  that  the  garrison 
should  become  prisoners  of  war,  Lally  hesitated. 

The  garrison  had  now  subsisted  on  the  flesh  of  the  vilest 
animals,  and  on  the  hearts  of  the  trees ;  and  there  remained 
in  the  magazines  on  the  15th  of  January  four  ounces  of  rice 
per  man.  On  the  16tli,  in  that  frightful  state,  he  surrendered 
Pondicherry  to  the  English.  During  the  siege  the  garrison 
had  been  reduced  to  seven  hundred  men,  of  whom  not  fifty 
were  in  a  state  to  defend  themselves;  while  the  English  army 
amounted  to  fifteen  thousand  men,  and  on  board  the  fleet  (of 
fourteen  sail  of  the  line)  were  seventeen  thousand  men  more. 

With  the  surrender  of  the  place  terminated  the  submission 
and  silence  of  Lally's  opponents,  and  all  the  pent-up  discontent 
which  his  haughty  and  rigorous  rule  had  engendered  in  his 
army,  was  set  free.  Indeed,  the  malignity  of  his  enemies 
increased  with  his  misfortune  to  such  a  degree,  that  the  escort, 
under  which  he  was  sent  prisoner  to  Madras,  became  the  pro- 
tectors of  his  life  from  assassins,  for,  on  his  march  thither,  an 
attempt  was  made  to  assassinate  him,  which  was  only  defeated 
by  the  courage  and  good  faith  of  his  escort.  It  would  seem, 
n-^vertheless,  that  even  his  captors  were  not  favourably  dis- 
jMjsed  towards  him,  for  it  is  stated  that  on  the  10th  of  March, 
1761,  Lally,  although  not  yet  entirely  convalescent,  was  em- 
barked in  a  wretched  tub  of  a  vessel,  ill-formed  and  ill-provi- 

*  The  hatred  of  which  Lally  had  become  the  object  was  incrcfiible,  and 
increased  with  every  measure  ordered  by  him  for  insuring  the  safety  of  the 
city.  He  was  menaced  with  assassination  ou  the  7th  October,  1760,  and  an 
attempt  even  to  poison  him  was  made  on  the  Sth.  He  remained  confined 
to  his  bed  from  its  effects  until  the  4th  of  December. 


56  THE    IRISH 

sioned,  commanded  by  a  Dutchman,  to  be  conveyed  to  England 
as  a  prisoner,  where  he  arrived  on  the  23d  of  September.  He 
immediately  learned  that  a  storm  was  brewing  against  him  in 
France.  He  therefore  solicited  his  liberty  of  the  British 
Government,  which  was  refused,  but  permission  to  visit  his 
country  on  parole  was  conceded  to  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Now  the  gods  forbid 
That  our  renowned  Rome,  whose  gratitude 
Towards  her  deserving  children  is  enroU'd 
In  Jove's  own  book,  like  an  unnatural  dam 
Should  now  eat  up  her  own. 

What  has  he  done  to  Rome  that's  worthy  death  ? 
Killing  our  enemies?    The  blood  he  hath  lost, 
(Which  I  dare  vouch  is  more  than  that  he  hath 
By  many  an  ounce,)  he  dropped  it  for  his  country  ; 
And,  what  is  left,  to  lose  it  by  his  country 
Were  to  us  all  that  do't  and  suffer  it, 
A  brand  to  the  end  o'  the  world. 

Cortolanua. 

HAVING-  arrived  at  Paris,  Lally  hastened  to  present  him- 
self to  the  government.  He  denounced,  as  a  true  subject 
of  the  King,  the  intrigues  and  the  crimes  of  his  subalterns,  and 
submitted  himself  to  the  proof  of  any  charge  they  could  bring 
against  him.  During  an  entire  year,  he  was  promised  by  the 
government  that  it  would  inquire  into  his  case,  and  it  even 
sought  to  reconcile  him  with  his  enemies,  but  his  impracticable 
temper  induced  him  to  reject  this  offer,  and  indignantly  to 
refuse  acquiescence  in  the  steps  taken  with  that  object ;  while, 
on  their  side,  his  adversaries  were  equally  opposed  to  an 
amicable  arrangement.  Among  them  his  implacable  enemy 
and  mutinous  subaltern,  Colonel  Bussy,  particularly  distin- 
guished himself  by  expressions  of  unrelenting  hate.  ''Lally's 
head  must  fall !"  was  his  constant  expression. 

Being  informed  that  a  lettre  de  cachet  had  been  signed 
against  him,  Lally  declined  the  advice  given  him  to  conceal 
himself.  On  the  contrary,  he  proceeded  to  Fontainebleau, 
where  the  Court  then  resided.  Immediately  on  arriving  there 
he  wrote  to  the  Due  de  Choiseul :  "I  bring  hither  my  head 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  57 

and  my  innocence."  Two  days  afterwards  he  surrendered  him- 
self a  prisoner  at  the  Bastille,  where  he  remained  nineteen 
months  without  even  being  examined. 

The  observation  of  Talleyrand,  that  "■  speech  was  given  to 
man  to  conceal  his  thoughts,"  docs  not  appear  to  have  occurred 
to  Lally,  also ;  or,  if  it  did,  he  held  it  not  applicable  to  other 
agents — pen,  ink,  and  paper,  par  exemjile — for  the  liberty  of 
writing  granted  him  during  his  confinement  in  the  Bastille  was 
used  by  him,  not  in  declarations  of  innocence,  and  arguments 
in  support  of  them,  but  in  attacks  upon  all  whom  he  supposed 
his  enemies.  This  naturally  redoubled  the  rancour  of  his 
accusers,  who  continued  the  louder  to  call  for  his  condemnation. 
Nevertheless,  it  may  be  said  that  it  was  accident  which  in  some 
sort  compelled  the  government  to  bring  him  to  trial. 

The  custom  in  France,  which  prevailed  more  or  less  till  the 
Revolution  of  1848  (and  the  apprehension  of  which  still 
remains  so  general  that  few  public  men  keep  their  private  docu- 
ments at  their  residences),  that  of  seizing  the  papers  of  deceased 
or  even  living  persons,  supposed  to  have  reference  to  public 
afi'airs,  brought  to  light  certain  charges  against  Lally  Tollendal. 
A  Jesuit  named  Lavaur  died  in  Paris  in  1763,  in  whose  secre- 
taire was  found  a  libel  on  Lally.  On  that  document  charges 
of  peculation  and  high  treason  were  raised  against  him ;  and 
upon  it  an  order  for  prosecuting  him  was  issued.  The  preli- 
minai'y  inquiry  and  discussion  of  the  interrogatories  of  the 
prisoner  and  his  enemies,  in  which  those  whom  he  accused 
were  admitted  to  testify  against  him,  lasted  two  entire  years, 
during  the  whole  of  which  time  he  was  refused  the  aid  of 
counsel.  At  length,  notwithstanding  the  declared  opinion  of 
the  senior  member,  or  chairman  of  the  commission,  acquitting 
him  of  all  other  heads  of  accusation  than  that  deemed  "  mili- 
tary," and  to  examine  into  which  he  (the  Doyen  des  Substituts) 
advised  a  court-martial,  the  Attorney-General  pronounced  for 
a  capital  accusation  of  him  befoi*e  the  Parliament  of  Paris. 

On  Monday  the  5th  of  3Iay,  1766,  Lally  was  brought  into 
court.  On  perceiving  the  (sellette)  stool  on  which,  as  a  culprit, 
he  was  compelled  to  take  his  place,  he  uncovered  his  breast, 
displayed  the  marks  of  his  wounds,  and  pointed  to  his  gray 
hairs,  exclaiming  with  bitterness:  "And  this  is  the  reward  of 
fifty-five  years'  services !" 

All  his  objections  to  the  charge,  and  to  the  testimony  of  the 
witnesses  against  him,  were  overborne  and  overraled,  and  on 
3* 


58  THE    IRISH 

the  following  day,  May  6th,  the  Court  acquitted  him  of  the 
guilt  of  peculation  and  high  treason,  but  pronounced  him 
"guilty  of  having  betrayed  the  interests  of  the  King,  of  the 
State,  and  of  the  East  India  Company,"  and  sentenced  him  to 
be  beheaded. 

This  decree  excited  universal  horror  and  surprise.  The 
Attorney-General,  Seguier,  differed  on  the  point  with  the  rap- 
porteur of  the  proceedings  (Pasquier,  father  of  the  Due  de 
Pasquier,  Louis  Philippe's  President  of  the  Chamber  of  Peers 
in  France),  who  was  a  hard  and  severe  man.  M.  de  Seguier 
did  not  confine  himself  to  mere  opposition  in  court ;  he  declared 
to  the  world  and  in  society  his  full  belief  in  the  innocence  of 
Lally.  M.  Pillot,  a  judge,  who  enjoyed  the  highest  reputation 
for  sound  judgment,  went  nearly  as  far  as  the  Attorney-General, 
holding  that  even  if  Lally  could  not  be  acquitted  of  all  the 
accusations  brought  against  him,  still  he  did  not  merit  capital 
punishment.  Moreover,  on  the  8th,  at  the  conclusion  of  a 
Conseil  d'Etat,  Marshal  Soubise  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of 
Louis  XV.,  and  demanded  of  him,  in  the  name  of  the  armi/y 
the  pardon  of  General  Lally.  The  Minister  of  War  followed 
his  example,  but  the  King,  induced  probably  by  the  counsel 
of  the  "  Du  Barri,"  or  other  of  the  profligate  creatures  who 
surrounded  him,  had  the  infamy  to  reply , — "  'Tis  you  who 
caused  him  to  be  arrested.  It  is  too  late.  He  has  been  tried 
— he  has  been  tried  I" 

A  short  time  afterwards,  nevertheless,  the  monarch  said  in 
the  ear  of  the  Due  de  Noailles  :  "  They  have  murdered  him !" 
and,  four  years  afterwards,  he  said  publicly  to  the  Chancellor 
Maupeau  :  "  It  is  you  who  will  have  to  answer  for  Lally's  blood 
—not  I." 

Will  the  world  equally  absolve  him  ?  Was  there  ever  such 
ingratitude,  such  iniquity,  such  weakness,  such  falsehood  ? 
Lally's  whole  life  had  been  spent  in  his  service.  Louis  believed 
him  to  be  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy  and  persecution ;  and  yet, 
at  the  instance  of  his  enemies,  and  possibly  of  courtesans  and 
other  parties  behind  the  scene,  he  refused  to  spare  the  life  of 
him  whom  he  had  recognised  as  the  author  of  the  most  impor- 
tant success  of  his  reign — the  glorious  victory  of  Fontenoy  ! 

When  the  decree  of  the  Court,  which  declared  him  "  guilty 
of  having  betrayed  the  interests  of  the  King,"  was  read  to 
Lally,  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  thunder  :  "  That  is  false  !  Never, 
never !" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  69 

After  giving  vent  to  his  indignation  against  the  Attorney- 
General,  and  against  the  judges,  Lally  became  suddenly  silent, 
and  appeared  to  reflect  while  he  walked  up  and  down,  his 
hand  on  his  left  breast  under  his  coat.  Then  pretending  to 
kneel,  he  stabbed  himself  with  a  compass,  which  penetrated 
between  the  ribs  to  the  depth  of  several  inches,  but  without 
reaching  the  heart.  A  confessor  then  was  summoned,  and 
through  his  exhortations  and  the  consolations  of  religion,  Lally 
resigned  himself  to  die. 

He  was  in  this  favourable  frame  of  mind  when  the  execu- 
tioner presented  himself  with  an  order  to  gag  him !  His 
enemies  contrived  even  that  the  time  fixed  for  his  execution 
(after  sunset)  should  be  advanced  six  hours ;  and  instead  of 
being  conducted  to  the  scaifold  in  his  carriage,  as  had  been 
promised  him,  he  was  brought  thither,  gagged,  in  open  day  in 
a  cart !  Arrived  at  the  fatal  spot,  he  received  the  stroke  of 
the  executioner  immediately  upon  pronouncing  pardon  of  his 
enemies  and  of  his  judges.  The  clergymen  who  attended  him 
in  his  last  moments,  wrote  to  the  weeping  family  of  Lally,  that 
— "  II  s'est  frappe  en  hero,  et  se  repente  en  chretien."  (He 
received  death  like  a  hero,  and  was  penitent  like  a  Christian.) 

To  witness  the  execution  of  Lally  crowds  of  amateurs  who 
revel  in  strong  emotions  and  sanguinary  spectacles  repaired  to 
Paris  from  the  provinces,  and  even  from  foreign  countries. 
Among  the  latter,  was  George  Selwin,  who  must  have  been 
still  a  very  young  man  in  1766,  but  this  propensity  was  early 
developed  in  him.  Many  men  of  the  very  first  rank  in  Paris 
also  sought  and  obtained  permission  to  be  present  on  the 
scafi"old,  in  order  to  witness  the  decapitation,  or  rather  the 
butchery  of  a  friend — a  companion,  probably  a  rival.  The 
throng  was  so  great,  that  the  executioner  (whose  instrument 
was  a  heavy  sword)  had  not  space  to  wield  it,  or  to  measure 
his  distance  and  take  aim.  The  blow,  consequently,  fell  in 
the  middle  of  the  sufi"erer's  head,  which  it  cut  through. 

During  many  years  afterwards,  and  even  to  the  Revolution 
of  1789,  this  sword  was  a  principal  ornament  of  the  museum 
of  Samson,  the  executioner;  and  was  always  exhibited  to 
visiters,  whose  attention  he  directed  to  a  notch  in  it,  caused 
by  its  encountering  the  victim's  teeth  ! 

Thus  perished,  on  the  9th  of  May,  1766,  Lally  Tollendal. 

"The  scars  of  his  old  wounds  were  nenr  his  new, 
Those  honourablo  sc-irs  which  brought  him  fame." 


60  THE    IRISH 


CHAPTER  XI. 

You  have  done  a  brave  deed !     Ere  you  go,  hear  this — 

As  far  as  doth  the  capitol  exceed 

The  meanest  house  in  Rome,  so  far  my  son 

Whom  j-ou  have  banished  does  exceed  you  all. 

Coriolanns. 

AT  that  period,  as  at  subsequent  ones,  public  opinion  was 
rarely  expressed  in  condemnation  of  the  acts  of  govern- 
ment in  France.  Louis  XV.  did  not,  it  is  tiiie,  cause  the 
unjust  execution  of  Lally  ToUendal,  but  he  permitted  it.  The 
profligate  old  sinner  was,  it  is  believed,  suffering  under  the 
pangs  of  conscience  at  the  period  of  Lally  Tollendal's  triaJ, 
and  acquiesced  in  the  murder,  possibly  to  bring  his  ministers 
into  discredit,  possibly  too  at  the  instigation  of  one  of  hi.s 
concubines.  There  was  no  public  press  to  descant  upon  the 
case  during  its  progress,  and  to  stigmatize  the  infamous  per- 
version of  justice  committed  by  the  capital  sentence  pro- 
nounced upon  the  heroic  Lally  by  his  judges.  There  was 
none  to  support  an  appeal  to  the  King's  clemency,  and  to 
demonstrate  that  to  sanction  a  decision  so  odious  was  to  become 
a  party  to  it.  It  is  fortunate  for  the  memory  of  Louis  XV. 
perhaps,  that  history  cannot  (because  of  their  repulsive  cha- 
racter) record  the  incidents  of  his  advanced  life.  Thoroughly 
depraved  though  he  were,  he  had,  it  will  be  seen,  moments  of 
remorse,  or — possibly — of  hypocrisy.  The  close  of  his  ill-spent 
life  approached.  The  murder  of  Lally  must  have  pressed  upon 
his  conscience,  yet  he  did  nothing  to  prove  that  he  repented, 
by  repairing  to  the  orphan  son  of  his  victim  the  evil  he  had 
caused  him  by  allowing  his  father  to  be  put  to  death.  It  was 
reserved  for  his  successor  (who,  alas  !  in  his  own  turn  pleaded 
in  vain  for  life),  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  the  gallant 
but  unfortunate  Lally. 

I  have  just  suggested  the  possibility  that  Louis  XV.  was  a 
hypocrite.  Crossing  the  Pont  Neuf  one  day  in  his  carriage, 
he  saw  two  clergymen  rapidly  approaching,  one  of  them  carry- 
ing the  sacred  vessel  in  which  he  was  conveying  the  sacrament 
to  a  sick  man  in  extremis.     The  King  ordered  the  carriage  to 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  61 

halt  and  the  door  to  be  opened.  He  then  descended,  and 
kneeling  down  in  the  mud,  bowed  his  head  with  at  least 
apparent  veneration,  and  remained  in  that  attitude  until  the 
procession  had  passed.*  This  act  of  devotion,  or  of  dissimula- 
tion, obtained  for  him  a  momentary  revival  of  his  popularity, 
but  he  gave  no  further  sign  of  repentance.  His  vicious  court, 
who  were  exclusively  members  of  his  vices,  rendered  return  to 
a  moral  life  impossible  for  the  now  doting  libertine.  One  of 
his  guilty  tools  at  least,  ''the  Du  Barri,"  expiated  her  own 
sins  afterwards  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  on  the  3d 
Frimaire  An.  II.,  ''convicted  of  having  worn  mourning  in 
London  for  the  tyrant"  (Louis  XVI.),  and  whence  she  had 
the  folly  to  return  to  France. 

Our  Cousin  Robin,  in  giving  the  details  of  the  life,  exploits, 
reverses,  sufferings,  and  death  of  Lally,  spoke  with  impar- 
tiality. He  blamed  him  for  an  execrable  temper  (his  great 
failing),  and  drew  a  picture  of  him  resembling,  in  many  par- 
ticulars, a  hero  of  more  modern  times,  the  late  Sir  Thomas 
Picton.  He  concurred  in  disbelieving  all  imputation  against 
the  loyalty  of  Lally,  but,  too  fond  of  quoting  Voltaire,  he 
always  added  the  somewhat  enigmatical  saying  ascribed  to 
that  satirist :  "  Every  man  in  France  had  a  right  to  put  Lally 
to  death,  except  the  executioner." 

The  Abbe  Duvernet  has  denied,  however,  that  Voltaire 
ever  used  that  expression ;  but  the  world  found  something  like 
a  confirmation  of  it  iu  his  "  Fragmens  sur  quelques  Revolu- 
tions dans  rinde." 

Three  days  after  the  death  of  Lally,  a  friend  who  deplored 
him  asked  one  of  his  principal  judges  upon  what  fact  the 
finding  and  sentence  of  the  Court  had  rested.  "  On  no  point 
in  particular,"  replied  the  judge;  "it  was  on  the  en&emhle  of 
his  conduct  that  he  was  found  guilty  and  sentenced." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Voltaire  ;  "  but  a  hundred  incongrui- 
ties in  the  conduct  of  a  man  in  place,  a  hundred  imperfections 

*  Another  royal  devotee,  wo  will  not  say  hypocrite,  displayed  similar 
devotion  within  this  present  year  in  a  neighbourinj;  capital,  as  will  bo  seen  by 
the  following  extract  from  the  Constitutionnel  of  21st  January  (1854) — ■'  On 
lit  dans  la  Espana,  du  15  :  'Hier,  a  quatre  heures  de  I'apres-midi,  la  rcino 
Marie-Christine,  passant  par  la  rue  d'AIcala,  a  rencontre  lo  viatique  que  Ton 
portait  a  un  pauvre  malade.  La  reine  Christine  est  descendue  do  sa  voiture  ; 
elle  y  a  fait  monter  le  pretre  et  elle  a  suivi  i  pied  un  cierge  a  la  main  ot 
dans  les  rues  boueuses,  jusqu'a  la  demeure  du  malade.  Elle  est  revenue  do 
la  meme  maniere  a  la  paroisse.'  " 


62  THE    IRISH 

of  character,  a  hundred  traits  of  bad  temper,  do  not  constitute 
a  crime  meiiting  capital  punishment.  If  it  were  permitted  to 
subalterns  to  draw  their  swords  against  their  general,  he  possi- 
bly deserved  death  at  the  hands  of  oiScers  whom  he  had  out- 
raged, but  not  to  die  by  the  glaive  of  justice." 

Thus  the  sceptic  on,  unfortunately,  more  important  points. 
He  who  denied  to  the  Irish  the  credit  of  having  gained  the 
battle  of  Fontenoy,  questioned  the  decree  which  sent  the  great 
agent  in  that  victory  to  the  scaffold. 

In  the  year  1778,  a  memorial  was  presented  to  Louis 
XVI.  in  council,  by  Count  Lally  Tollendal,  only  son  of  the 
unfortunate  Lally;  in  consequence  of  which  a  commission  was 
appointed  to  examine  into  the  whole  case  of  his  father.  After 
thirty-two  sittings,  the  commission  "  reversed  (cassa)  the  de- 
cree of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  of  the  6th  of  May,  1768,  and 
everything  that  had  followed  it." 

From  that  moment  General  Lally  Tollendal  was  reinstated 
by  law,  and  his  character  pronounced  to  be  restored  to  honour. 
Public  opinion  had  never  considered  him  guilty. 

Louis  XVI.  concurred,  with  his  usual  kindness  of  heart,  in 
this  decision,  and  accompanied  his  assent  with  compliments  to 
Count  Lally  Tollendal  (afterwards  created  Marquis  by  Louis 
XVIII.)  on  his  "filial  piety."  He  was  rewarded,  as  we  shall 
see,  for  this  benevolence,  in  his  own  moment  supreme,  by  the 
heroic  presence  and  invaluable  mental  support  of  two  Irish- 
men (Catholic  clergymen). 


CHAPTER  XII. 

He  who  is  a  good  son  makes  a  good  brother — a  good  husband — a  good 
father — a  good  relative — a  good  friend — a  good  neighbour — a  good  citizen. 

Chinese  Proverb. 

Qu'est  ce  qui  louera  son  pero  mieux  que  I'enfant  malheureux  ? 

TROPHIME  GERARD  DE  LALLY  TOLLENDAL  was 
the  son  of  the  unfortunate  General  Lally,  of  whom  in  the 
preceding  chapters  I  have  been  speaking,  and  gained  for  him- 
self by  his  talents,  his  liberal  opinions,  his  honourable  princi- 
ples, his  civil  courage,  his  devoted  attachment  to  a  Sovereign 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  63 

in  adversity,  and  above  all  by  sui-passiug  filial  piety,  the  esteem 
and  admiration  of  his  contemporaries,  and  a  distinguished  place 
in  history. 

He  was  born  in  Paris  on  the  5th  of  May,  1751,  and  was 
educated  in  the  College  of  Harcourt.  He  studied  with  steadi- 
ness and  success,  notwithstanding  the  one  absorbing  idea 
which  occupied  him  from  the  first  moment  when  he  could 
realize  the  atrocious  treatment  of  which  his  father  had  been 
the  object,  and  the  sentence  of  death  so  diabolically  executed 
upon  him. 

The  first  impulse  of  young  Lally  was  to  bring  about  the 
re-establishment  of  his  father's  character,  through  the  expo- 
sure of  the  foul  and  disgraceful  process  by  which  his  destruc- 
tion had  been  achieved.  Thus  he  had  hardly  left  college, 
when  the  courts  rang  with  his  complaints  and  appeals.  Aided 
by  the  powerful  co-operation  of  Voltaire,  his  efforts  were  in- 
cessant, until  at  length  justice  and  humanity  triumphed.  By 
four  decrees  of  the  Council,  the  judgment  and  sentence  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris,  by  whom  the  elder  Lally  had  been  con- 
demned, were  quashed,  as  we  have  stated,  and  the  affair  was 
in  train  to  be  satisfactorily  and  definitively  concluded  by  the 
Parliament  of  Rouen,  to  which  it  had  been  referred,  when 
the  Revolution  of  1789  broke  out,  and  prevented  the  imme- 
diate accomplishment  of  his  desires. 

The  formal  establishment  of  General  Lally  was  not  there- 
fore absolutely  necessary.  So  complete  and  unequivocal  had 
been  the  verdict  of  acquittal,  expressed  by  the  first  decree  of 
the  Council  which  annulled  that  of  the  Parliament,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  world,  and  especially  of  Voltaire,  that  though 
then  on  his  bed  of  death,  the  philosopher  wrote  to  M.  Lally 
the  following  note  : — 

''  The  dying  is  recalled  to  life  by  this  great  event.  He 
tenderly  embraces  M.  Lally.  He  perceives  that  the  King  is 
the  defender  of  justice,  and  he  dies  content." 

This  note  bore  date  26th  of  May,  1778.  Voltaire  died  on 
the  30th. 

Some  time  after  the  death  of  Voltaire  M.  Lally  purchased 
the  appointment  of  Grand  Bailli  d'Etampcs.  The  preamble 
of  its  conveyance  recited  that  it  had  been  accorded  to  him 
^'  in  consideration  of  the  services  rendered  by  his  father  to 
the  State"  and  of  '^  his  own  filial  piety." 

The  6clat  which  his  conduct  had  gained  for  him  procured 


64  THE    IRISH 

for  M.  Lally,  in  1789,  his  election  to  the  States-Greneral  as  a 
deputy  of  the  noblesse  of  Paris.  Passionate,  however,  as  a 
reformer,  and  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Necker,  then  the 
drapeau  of  the  Opposition,  Lally  on  the  25th  of  June,  in 
conjunction  with  the  minority  of  the  noblesse,  went  over  to 
the  Tiers-Etat. 

On  the  11th  of  July,  when  the  agitation  of  the  public 
mind  was  nearly  at  its  height,  he  made  in  the  States-General 
a  vehement  speech,  in  which  he  paid  to  La  Fayette,  who  had 
just  proposed  the  declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man,  the  fol- 
lowing compliment :  "  The  author  of  this  declaration  speaks 
of  libei-ty  in  the  manner  in  which  he  defended  it." 

Two  days  afterwards — that  is,  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution, 
as  it  may  be  termed — he  evinced  his  sense  of  honour  and 
common  honesty  by  indignantly  repudiating  the  odious  idea 
of  a  national  bankruptcy  which  had  been  proposed,  or  at  least 
eusrorested,  in  the  Assembly  : — 

"La  dette  publique,"  cried  he,  "est  sous  la  sauvegarde  de 
I'honneur  et  de  la  loyaute  frangaise  1" 

Xext  day,  the  14th,  while  the  siege  and  attack  of  the 
Bastille  were  actually  in  progress,  he  was  elected  a  member 
of  the  "  Committee  of  the  Constitution,"  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment named  one  of  the  deputation  which  it  wa.s  resolved 
should  be  sent  to  tranquillize  the  people.  The  Bastille  had, 
however,  already  fallen,  and  the  conquerors  were  returning 
flushed  with  victory,  and  accompanied  by  prisoners  and  tro- 
phies, to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  when  they  were  encountered  in 
the  Rue  St.  Antoine  by  the  deputation.  All  interposition  was 
therefore  supei-fluous. 

We  find  Lally  again  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  on  the  following 
day,  where  he  once  more  harangued  the  multitude  (now  in  a 
state  of  increased  excitement)  in  a  speech  calculated  to  soothe 
them,  and  bespeak  a  kindly  reception  for  the  Sovereign,  against 
whom  the  evil  disposed  were  endeavouring  to  provoke  popular 
fury. 

This  effort  was,  however,  only  partially  successful.  It  de- 
monstrated the  loyalty  and  the  spirit  of  conciliation  that  ever 
distinguished  Lally,  but  it  betrayed  a  just  appreciation  of  the 
actual  situation,  by  recognising  that  it  called  for  mediation 
between  the  monarch  and  the  masses,  and  of  the  perspective 
which,  with  admirable  foresight,  he  thus  early  perceived  dis- 
tinctly defined.      He  comprehended  the  difiiculty  of  reconci- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOMK.  6fi 

ling  others  to  views  which  were  natural  to  himself,  aud  was 
horror-struck  at  the  aspect  of  the  abyss  into  which,  only  a 
little  later,  the  monarch  and  the  monarchy  were  so  fright- 
fully hurled. 

It  was  still  under  these  impressions  that  two  days  subse- 
quently (on  the  17th  of  July,  1789),  when  the  King  repaired 
to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  Lally  again  addressed  the  people,  re- 
callino;  to  mind  the  numerous  acts  of  kindness  and  beneficence 
of  the  Sovereign  towards  them ;  and  then  turning  to  the  King, 
he  dwelt  upon  the  sentiments  of  affection,  fidelity,  and  grati- 
tude for  him  with  which  the  people  were,  he  assured  him, 
penetrated. 

The  manner  in  which  these  observations  were  received 
proved  to  Lally  that  he  had  failed  in  his  praiseworthy  effort, 
and  convinced  him  of  the  hopelessness  of  any  further  attempt 
at  mediation.  He  resolved  therefore  upon  a  step  which  the 
most  fastidious  advocate  for  consistency  will  not  condemn, 
seeing  that  it  was  not  desertion  from  a  principle  or  a  party — 
loyalty  and  attachment  to  the  King  (to  whom  he  owed  more- 
over a  deep  debt  of  gratitude)  being  the  first  article  of  his 
political  faith. 

The  views  of  the  revolutionists  forming  the  majority  of  the 
Tiers-Etat  being  now  palpable,  and  becoming  fully  impressed 
with  the  consequence,  should  success  attend  the  revolutionary 
projects  of  the  majority,  Lally  abandoned  that  party  and 
ranged  himself  by  the  side  of  the  defenders  of  the  Court, 
and  thenceforward,  without  relinquishing  one  of  his  liberal 
principles,  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  the  doomed  sove- 
reignty. In  proportion  as  the  King's  danger  became  more 
manifest,  Lally's  zeal  in  his  cause  increased  and  his  courage 
rose,  and  with  constancy  and  energy  he  endeavoured  to  stem 
the  torrent  directed  from  the  tribune  against  the  unfortunate 
Louis.  Without  disdaining  vulgar  assailants,  he  sought  espe- 
cially the  leaders  of  the  Revolution,  and  courageously  grappled 
with  even  the  Corypheus  of  the  party — that  "  Hercules  of 
eloquence" — Mirabeau  himself. 

My  readers  of  a  certain  standing  will  perceive  that  the- 
phrase  just  applied  to  Mirabeau  is  derived  from  Sheridan's 
somewhat  bombastic  compliment  to  Charles  Fox,  conveyed 'in 
a  toast  proposed  by  him  at  one  of  the  Whig  Club  dinners  in 
179-4  or  1795,  which  ran  thus  : — 

"  May  the  Hercules  of  eloquence  destroy  the  Hydra  of  cor- 


66  THE    IRISH 

ruption,  and  double  chain  the  triple-headed  Cerberus  of  taxa- 
tion!" 

It  is  due  to  the  memory  of  that  powerful  orator,  liberal 
statesman,  and  most  amiable  of  men,  Charles  James  Fox,  to 
observe,  however,  that  with  obesity  and  a  hesitating  and  con- 
fused manner  in  the  commencement  of  a  speech  (which  his 
nephew,  the  late  Lord  Holland,  also  laboured  under),  all  resem- 
blance, physical,  moral,  or  intellectual,  between  him  and  Mira- 
beau  ceased.  The  one  was  handsome,  with  a  countenance 
beaming  with  benevolence,  with  also 

" A  hand 

Open  as  day  to  melting  charity," 

the  other,  ugly,  repulsive,  rapacious,  with  imprinted  on  his 
brow  the  forbidding  audacity  and  defiance  of  one  whose  dis- 
orderly youth  and  manhood  had  brought  upon  him  the  world's 
dislike,  I  might  almost  say  abhorrence;  of  one  who  had 
endured  inflictions,  some  of  which  bore  a  character  of  perse- 
cution and  tyranny  together,  with  an  unmistakable  fearless 
determination  to  avenge  them,  and  which  he  accomplished. 
The  one  was  occasionally — almost  habitually — sportive  as  an 
infant,  the  other  breathed  only  from  a  long  rankling,  concen- 
trated sense  of  profoundly  felt  though  not  altogether  unmerited 
injuries. 

It  were  worse  than  absurd  to  attempt  to  gild  refined  gold, 
to  utter  here  a  word  even  in  admiration  of  the  powers  of  Mr. 
Fox ;  but  the  following  example,  characteristic  of  his  playful 
disposition,  has  not  yet  appeared  in  print.  I  had  it  from  the 
late  Mr.  Francis  Plowden,  the  eminent  English  chancery  bar- 
rister, but  better  known  as  ''  Plowden  the  historian." 

Fox  and  Sheridan  had  been  dining  with  him  in  his  cham- 
bers,  in  Essex  Street,  Strand.  At  length  Sheridan  rose,  and 
observed, 

"  It  is  time  to  go  down  to  the  House." 

"  Allons  done,"  replied  Fox,  and  they  left,  accompanied  by 
their  host. 

On  reaching  the  street,  Sheridan  proposed,  in  order  to  make 
a  return  for  Plowden' s  hospitality,  that  if  there  should  be 
nothing  important  before  the  House  on  their  arrival,  they 
should  adjourn  to  what  subsequently  became  "  Bellamy's."* 

*  The  refreshment  room  of  the  House  of  Commons. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOiME.  67 

''Done,"  said  Fox;  but  Plowden  insisted  that  the  carouse 
should  be  at  their  common  cost. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Fox;  "  every  man  for  himself ;  but  to 
pass  the  time  let  us  have  a  game  on  the  road.  He  who  utters 
the  stupidest  joke,  or  makes  the  worst  pun  before  we  reach  St. 
Stephen's,  shall  be  excused  paying  for  the  wine.'' 

''Agreed,"  said  his  companions;  and  they  proceeded  to- 
wards St.  Stephen's.*  Plowden  was  in  every  respect  a  pon- 
derous man,  and  had  as  yet  made  no  attempt  to  escape  scot 
free.  Of  Sheridan's  essay,  if  any,  Plowden  had  no  recollec- 
tion. 

The  trio  had  nearly  reached  Northumberland  House,  and 
Fox  had  not  opened  his  lips  since  proposing  the  wager.  He 
was  silent,  and  as  completely  abstracted  as  if  occupied  with  that 
modern  solecism  in  good  manners,  cigar-smoking;  and  was 
treated  by  his  friends  with  the  indulgence  tacitly  accorded  to 
the  perpetrators  of  that  nuisance.  Suddenly  a  porter  coming 
from  the  "  Golden  Cross"  over  the  way,  with  a  hare  dangling 
in  his  hand,  rushed  into  the  centre  of  the  party,  in  order  to 
avoid  a  passing  carriage,  nearly  upset  Fox,  and  roused  him 
from  his  revery. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Fm  sure,"  said  the  man,  respectfully. 

"No  harm  done,  my  friend,"  replied  the  bland  orator; 
"  but  may  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  you,  sir,  if  that  be 
your  own  hare  or  a  wig?" 

Sheridan  and  Plowden  "  gave  in"  without  further  contest. 

We  are  forgetting  Lally,  however. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

We  can  never  labour  more  gloriously  than  in  meriting  the  esteem  of  our 
fellow  citizens. 

Bias. 

THE  zeal  in  the  service  of  Louis  XVI.  displayed  by  M. 
Lally  Tollendal,  increased  as  he  became  impressed  with 
the  fearful  fate  that  menaced  the  King,  his  family,  and  his 

«  Tho  sittings  of  the  late  Commons'  House  of  Parliament  were  hold  in 
the  former  Chapel  of  Saint  Stephen,  Westminster,  London. 


68  THE    IRISH 

country.  He  no  longer  qualified  his  language  while  remon- 
strating with  the  leading  orators  of  the  adverse  faction ;  he 
dwelt  with  indignation  on  the  excesses  committed  in  the  capital, 
and  in  a  prophetic  strain  thus  admonished  his  hearers  :  "  If 
the  spirit  of  revolt  be  not  immediately  arrested  and  repressed, 
we  shall  have  shaken  off  the  ministerial  yoke  only  to  assume 
one  tenfold  more  insupportable."  Then  obviously  pointing  to 
Mirabeau,  he  characterized  him  as 

'•A  lion  he  was  proud  to  hunt — " 

and,  in  reply  to  some  irregular  observation  by  which  he  had 
been  interrupted  by  him,  Lally  remarked,  with  bitterness  :  ''  It 
is  possible  for  a  man  to  possess  great  talent  and  grand  ideas, 
and  yet  to  be  a  tyrant." 

On  the  19th  of  August  following,  in  an  able  and  eloquent 
speech,  he  felt  the  pulse  of  the  Assembly  on  the  subject  of  a 
mixed  constitution  comprehending  three  powers  (the  favourite 
notion  of  his  idol,  Necker).  Either,  however,  he  had  indis- 
posed the  majority  of  the  Assembly  by  his  introductory  obser- 
vations, indiscreetly  condemnatory  of  the  declaration  of  the 
Rights  of  jMan,  of  which  he  had  at  first  approved,  or  the 
Assembly  was  resolved  to  listen  to  nothing  coming  from  the 
Court,  with  whom  they  identified  him ;  for  his  measure  was 
declared  unsuitable,  and  negatived.  Nevertheless,  in  order  to 
mark  that  it  was  to  the  author  and  not  the  principle  they 
objected,  the  Assembly  almost  immediately  agreed  to  another 
that  was  substituted  for  it;  '^ although,"  said  the  commenta- 
tors, "  it  contained  distinctions  without  difi"erences,"  and  was 
"  simile  et  idem." 

Like  that  of  Lally,  this  pi-oj'et  de  loi  contemplated  three 
powers :  a  Chamber  of  Representatives,  a  Senate  (of  which, 
however,  the  members  were  not  necessarily  to  be  drawn  from 
the  privileged  classes,  but  who  must  possess  a  certain  quali- 
fying amount  of  income),  and  finally,  a  King,  with  the  absolute 
veto. 

This  project,  which  may  be  considered  that  of  Lally,  was 
approved  and  became  a  law,  and  the  Committee  of  the  Con- 
stitution, from  whom  it  had  emanated,  was  dissolved. 

Few  measures  can  be  named  that  have  displayed  a  tendency 
to  mortality  and  a  susceptibility  of  resuscitation  comparable 
with  this  Constitutional  enactment.  It  endured  for  a  brief 
time  only.     Some  ten  years  later  a  precisely  similar  one  was 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  69 

granted  by  Napoleon  to  his  subjects;  and  this  was  superseded 
thirteen  or  fourteen  years  afterwards  by  Louis  XVIII.,  by 
another  (historically  known  as  La  Charte)  professing  to  be 
founded  on  a  more  liberal  principle,  and  on  his  demise  was 
continued — nominally — by  his  successor  (Charles  X.),  until — 
together  with  his  throne — it  was  upset  by  the  Revolution  of 
1830.  Louis  Philippe  gathenug  up  the  fragments,  professed  to 
restore  the  edifice  in  its  pristine  purity.  He  did  not  keep  his 
word,  and  in  consequence  it  fell,  anew,  into  the  mud  beneath  the 
insurrection  of  1848.  A  fresh  interregnum  took  place,  and, 
now — in  1852 — it  again  obtains,  having  been  once  more  esta- 
blished by  Louis  Napoleon  in  the  form  and  terms  octroyi  by 
his  uncle. 

Thus  we  have  seen  the  plan  of  a  Constitutional  Monarchy 
tossed,  like  a  shuttlecock,  from  the  National  Assembly  to  the 
Convention,  who  suffered  it  to  drop.  Adopted  by  Napoleon, 
it  was  kept  bounding  on  the  battledore,  in  order,  at  the  con- 
venience of  the  striker,  to  be  launched  forward  again  with 
increased  force,  or  allowed  to  fall.  Caught  up  by  Louis  XVIII., 
and  once  more  put  into  action ;  shaken  by  his  death,  its 
existence — very  imperfectly  performing  its  functions  however 
— was  tolerated  for  some  time  by  Charles  X.  With  him,  upon 
his  attempting  to  deplume  it  altogether,  it  once  more  came  to 
the  ground.  It  was  appropriated  by  Louis  Philippe,  who — in 
that  phrase  so  well  known  and,  for  him,  so  unfortunately 
departed  from — declared  that  thenceforward  ^^  La  Charte" 
should  be  "  une  verite,"  but  who — pursuing  a  less  important 
object,  the  aggrandizement  of  his  name  and  family — allowed 
the  constitutional  principle  to  become  impaired  in  its  most 
indispensable  faculties,  it  again  fell  into  the  houe  (teaching  him 
that  with  a  people  as  with  a  child,  faith  must  ever  be  kept). 
It  retained  its  vitality,  however,  for  having  been  picked  up  by 
Louis  Napoleon,  its  leading  principles  are  to-day  preserved  in 
his  system  of  government  (notwithstanding  the  anomaly)  in 
the  name  of  a  republic.     Resumons  : — 

Overruled  and  defeated  within,  Lally  now  directed  his 
attention  to  the  aspect  of  affairs  out  of  doors,  and  became  in 
consequence  hoi-rified  at  the  indications  of  innovation  which 
everywhere  met  his  view,  and  which  he  recognised  as  prelimi- 
nary to  the  terrible  crisis  that  he  had  vainly  sought  to  persuade 
himself  was  not  inevitable.  The  fearful  events  of  the  5th  and 
6th  of  October  manifested  to  him,  hov.'evcr,  the  sure  advent 


70  THE    IRISH 

of  the  evils  he  had  hoped  to  see  obviated,  and  which  he  was 
forced  to  admit  were  about  to  burst  on  France.  Seeing,  more- 
over, that  the  Assembly  was  deficient  in  the  power  or  the  will 
to  re-establish  order,  he  renounced  his  predilection  for  par- 
liamentary life,  and  retired  into  Switzerland,  where  he  joined 
his  friend  Mounier,  and  where  he  composed  his  well-known 
work  entitled  ''Quintus  Capitolinus." 

Becoming  somewhat  reassured,  and  believing  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  endeavour,  by  all  means  available  to  him,  to  obviate 
the  dangers  which  menaced  his  Sovereign  and  his  country, 
Lally  returned  to  France  early  in  1792,  and,  in  conjunction 
with  Mounier,  Montmorin,  Malouet,  and  Bertrand  de  Molle- 
ville,  sought  to  snatch  the  King  from  the  precipice  on  the 
brink  of  which  he  stood. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Ce  n'est  ni  le  d^faut  de  branches  ni  de  feuilles,  qui  fait  p6rir  un  arbre, 
mais  la  pourriture  de  sa  racine. 

Proverbe  Chinois. 

HAD  it  been  possible  to  have  saved  France  from  the  evils 
and  the  horrors  of  which  she  has  been  the  theatre  during 
now  upwards  of  sixty  years,  with  certain  intervals,  it  would 
have  been  effected  by  the  quintuple  alliance  mentioned  in  the 
close  of  the  last  chapter,  and  the  powerful  coadjutors  influenced 
by  their  doctrine  and  example.  They  were  individually  liberal, 
yet  royalist  advocates  of  reform  (champions  of  freedom  even), 
but  staunch  defenders  of  the  person  and  authority  of  the 
Sovereign.  In  this  no  inconsistency  was  seen.  It  accorded 
with  the  views  and  comprehended  the  desires  of  the  vast 
majority  of  the  nation  at  that  period  :  but  a  few  perturbed 
spirits,  who  would  not  be  propitiated,  and  a  few  incorrigible 
bigots,  clinging  to  principles  and  privileges  irreconcilable  with 
the  wants  and  the  taste  and  spirit  of  the  age,  and  incompatible 
with  the  measures  calculated  and  proposed  for  the  general 
well-being,  derided  and  opposed  it.  By  one  set  of  opponents 
the  profession  of  faith  of  Lally  and  his  friends  was  treated  as 
"  a  desire  to  perpetuate  a  r<5gime  which  had  run  its  race,  and 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  71 

with  whlcli  at  any  risk  il/aut  Jini?:"  By  another  it  was  dealt 
with,  as  "  the  mot  cVordre  for  the  destruction  of  a  fabric  with 
whose  history  were  associated  all  the  glories  of  France,  and 
with  the  continued  existence  of  which,  entire  and  intact,  her 
safety  and  her  destinies  were  indissolubly  bound  up." 

Notwithstanding  the  resistance  of  these  two  clashing  and 
discordant  elements,  the  system  for  which  Lally  and  his  col- 
leagues contended, — a  constitutional  monarchy, — triumphed 
for  a  moment,  as  we  have  seen.  Instead,  however,  of  recon- 
struction, demolition  was  the  result.  The  monarchical  prin- 
ciple which,  unqualified  and  unlimited,  had  prevailed  for  seven 
or  eight  centuries,  had  been  so  much  weakened,  and  so  impor- 
tantly entame  in  the  progress  of  the  discussion  of  the  measure 
which  was  proposed  for  its  renovation,  that  scarcely  was  it 
re-established,  when,  not  imperceptibly,  or  by  sap,  but  from 
open,  unconcealed,  undissembled,  unintermitting  assaults  upon 
it,  the  whole  building  gave  way,  overwhelming  in  its  fall  both 
defenders  and  assailants. 

The  four  distinguished  associates  of  Lally  in  his  attempt 
to  preserve  the  monarchy  if  possible,  but  the  monarch  at  all 
events — namely — Mounier,  Montmorin,  Maloiiet, and  Beitrand 
de  Molleville,  took  respectively  a  prominent  part  in  the  im- 
portant proceedings  which  preceded  the  abrogation  of  royalty 
and  the  execution  of  the  King. 

John  Joseph  Mounier  was  the  son  of  a  respectable  mer- 
chant of  Grenoble,  and  was  born  on  the  12th  November, 
1758.  He  received  an  excellent  education,  which,  united  to 
sound  sense,  a  discriminating  and  active  mind,  and  a  consider- 
able share  of  eloquence,  insured  to  him  distinction  in  the  profes- 
sion of  the  law,  to  which  he  devoted  himself  He  thus  attained 
to  the  rank  of  Juge  Royal,  with  the  additional  advantage  of 
a  high  reputation  for  political  knowledge.  On  the  failure  of 
the  Assembly  of  Notables,  in  1787,  and  the  convocation  of  the 
States  General,  his  popularity  obtained  for  him  a  nomination 
to  that  Assembly,  of  which  body  he  soon  became  the  life  and 
soul,  and  had  nearly  succeeded  in  laying  the  foundation  of  a 
solid  representative  government,  when  the  divisions  and  con- 
flicts of  the  States-General  defeated  that  great  object.  The 
struggle  for  superiority  between  the  clergy  and  nobles,  with 
the  Tiers-Etat,  became  hourly  more  violent.  Of  this  last- 
mentioned  section  Mounier  was  one  of  the  most  strenuous 
partisans,  and  to  him  was  due  the  change  of  the  ''  States-Ge- 


72  THE   IRISH 

neral"  into  tlie  ''  National  Assembly."  It  was  he,  also,  who, 
when  on  the  20th  June  the  Ticrs-Etat  were  refused  admit- 
tance into  the  Salle  de  I'Assemblee,  moved  an  adjournment  to 
the  Tennis  Court,  where  he  proposed  the  oath,  which  was  taken 
on  the  spot,  not  to  separate  until  after  having  given  a  Consti- 
tution to  France. 

This  extraordinary  scene,  which  the  pen  and  the  pencil  have 
a  thousand  times  represented,  was  perhaps  the  most  exciting 
and  at  the  same  time  imposing  of  the  Revolution.  "David's 
celebrated  picture  of  it — called  the  *  Serment  de  la  Jeu  de 
Paume,'  is  faithful  in  its  great  features,  but  fails  in  its  indi- 
vidualities"— such,  at  least,  was  the  opinion  of  one  of  its  most 
obvious  characters,  the  Abbe  Gregoire,  expressed  to  me  three- 
and-twenty  years  afterwards.  "  To  Bailly,  in  particular,  the 
honestest  man  of  the  Revolution,"  the  Abbe  Gregoire  said, 
''  the  picture  of  David  did  not  do  justice." 

The  weakness  of  the  King,  his  refusal  to  act  upon  the 
vigorous  counsel  of  Mounier,  and  especially  the  events  of  the 
5th  and  6th  October,  convinced  the  latter  that  the  monarch 
was  lost.  He  therefore  sent  in  his  resignation  of  member  of 
the  (now)  Constituent  Assembly,  and  retired  to  his  native  city, 
Grenoble.     He  died  in  1803. 

Montmorin  (Armand  Mare),  was  a  man  of  talent,  of  fitful 
energy,  but  vacillating  to  a  contemptible  degree.  After  the  ter- 
rific affair  of  the  10th  August,  1792,  he  deemed  it  prudent  to 
conceal  himself.  He  took  refuge  in  the  house  of  a  washerwoman, 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  where,  however,  he  was  disco- 
vered on  the  21st  of  that  month,  arrested,  and  after  examina- 
tion committed  to  prison.  He  was  one  of  the  unfortunates 
butchered  at  the  Abbaye,  on  the  2d  of  September  following. 
In  the  picture  of  that  appalling  slaughter  Montmorin  figures 
so  prominently  that  a  slight  sketch  of  it  will  possibly  prove 
acceptable,  especially  as  it  portrays  the  accused  and  the  judge 
in  never-fading  colours. 

In  the  preceding  sanguinary  scenes  of  the  Revolution,  a 
sheriff's  officer  named  Maillard  had  been  a  principal  actor. 
He  was  one  of  the  foremost  assailants  of  the  Bastille.  He 
excited  and  managed  the  march  of  the  Poissardes  to  Ver- 
sailles, on  the  5th  October,  and  he  was  one  of  the  most  des- 
perate in  the  attack  on  the  Tuileries,  on  the  10th  August. 
These  circumstances  will  explain  why  to  him  was  deputed  the 
task  of  presiding  over  an  important  branch  of  the  general  mas- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  73 

sacre  ordered  for  the  2d  September — tliat  of  the  prisoners  con- 
fined in  the  Abbaye. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Tigre  enchaine  se  laisse  conduire  par  un  enfant — mais  celui  qui  le  mdno 
— fut-il  un  geant,  risque  tout  a  I'irriter:  le  peuple  est  do  meme. 

Apojihther/mes  de  Tao-See. 

Astucieux  et  perfiJe  comme  un  Syphnien. 

MAILLAKD  and  his  monster  associates  forming  the  tribu- 
nal which  on  that  day  (the  2d  of  September),  established 
itself  at  the  Abbaye  for  the  ti'ial,  as  it  was  termed,  of  the 
prisoners  confined  in  that  edifice,  had  hardly  taken  their  seats 
at  a  table  placed  in  the  hall,  when  the  Swiss  Guards,  to  the 
number  of  thirty-seven,  who  had  surrendered  at  the  Tuileries 
on  the  10th  of  August,  or  had  been  captured  elsewhere,  were 
commanded  to  appear  before  the  judges.  They  were  accord- 
ingly brought  promptly  before  Maillard. 

"'Tisyou,''  said  he,  addressing  them,  ''who  assassinated 
the  people  on  the  10th  of  August." 

"  We  were  attacked,  and  only  obeyed  the  orders  of  our 
chiefs." 

Maillard  shook  his  head  doubtingly,  and  with  that  coolness 
which  freezes  the  blood  when  one  reflects  upon  his  demonstra- 
tion of  it  in  those  terrible  moments,  added,  and  with  seeming 
carelessness  :  "  At  all  events,  however,  there  is  nothing  for  me 
to  do  but  to  transfer  you  to  La  Force."* 

"  A  la  Force  !  entendez-vous  ?"  said  he  to  the  attendants. 

These  observations  were  directed  to  two  parties — the  pri- 
soners and  the  turnkeys.  It  had  been  arranged,  in  order  to 
spare  the  judges  the  pain  of  hearing  exclamations,  remon- 
strances, entreaties,  execrations,  or  maledictions  from  the 
doomed,  that  the  words  d  la  Force  would  mean  "  condemna- 
tion to  death."  The  prisoner,  therefore,  on  quitting  the  pri- 
son, the  door  of  which  closed  upon  him  immediately  on  his 
egress  from  it,  found  himself  surrounded  by  nearly — and  only— 

*  The  great  prison  of  Paris. 


74  THE    IRISH 

two  hundred  frantic  and  half-intoxicated  demons,  armed  with 
bludgeons,  hammers,  muskets,  hatchets,  pikes,  pistols,  and 
sabres,  and  compared  with  whom,  the  savages  of  New  Zea- 
land would  appear  mild  and  humane.  These  horrible  mis- 
creants were  instructed  that,  unless  accompanied  by  recognised 
agents,  proclaiming  their  acquittal,  all  who  left  the  prison 
were  to  be  instantly  put  to  death. 

Who  is  there  who  has  not  wept  at  the  description  given  by 
Lamartine  and  others  of  the  "  beau  jeune  officier  Suisse," 
with  his  flaxen  hair,  in  the  flower  of  his  youth,  who  when  his 
companions  shrank  back  at  the  words,  "  k  la  Force,"  believing 
it  to  be  his  sentence  of  death,*  advanced  and  offered  himself 
as  the  fli'st  victim  ?  The  door  opened.  He  passed  it.  For  a 
moment,  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  young  man,  who  regarded 
them  with  firmness,  paralyzed  the  butchers  by  whom  he  was 
to  be  slausfhtered.  Not  a  sound  was  heard.  At  lencrth  bend- 
ing  his  head  he  rushed  forward,  and  was  instantly  struck  down 
and  slain.  His  comrades,  officers,  and  soldiers  of  the  Swiss 
Guards,  to  the  number  above  mentioned,  followed,  and  also 
perished. 

Some  wretched  coiners  (a  class  of  ofi"enders  always,  even 
in  our  own  time,  punished  capitally  in  France)  were  next 
brought  forward,  and  although  not  accused  of  being  aristo- 
crats, were  transferred  to  the  executioners  by  the  usual  sen- 
tence.    To  them  succeeded  Montmorin,  the  friend  of  Lally. 

Full  of  the  recollection  of  his  successful  pleading  before 
the  Assemblies,  and  with  autrefois  acquit  upon  his  lips,  he 
advanced  into  the  hall  of  trial  with  confidence,  and  placed 
himself  erect  before  Maillard,  whom  he  regarded  with  a  steady 
countenance.  Maillard  dropped  his  eye  upon  the  book  before 
him  (the  register  of  the  prison),  and  pronounced  interroga- 
tively, but  without  much  emphasis,  the  name  "  Montmorin  ?" 

''  The  same,"  said  the  ex-minister. 

"  What  is  your  defence  to  the  charge  of  incivisme  that  I 
find  here  against  you  V'f 

"  I  have  already  been  tried — accused  rather — before  the 
Assembly,  and  have  proved  my  innocence.  I  was  ordered  to 
be  liberated,  but  have  been,  nevertheless,  most  irregularly  and 
illegally  detained." 

*  "  Les  malheureux,"  says  Thiers,  "qui  avaient  entrevu  les  sabres  mena- 
fants  de  I'autro  c6t6  du  guichet  ne  peuvent  s'abuser  sur  leur  sort!" 
f  This  assertion  was  false. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  75 

'^  C'est  bieu  !"  said  Maillard,  carelessly;  "  convey  Monsieur 
de  Montmorin  d  la  Force  V^ 

"  La  Force !"  said  tlie  unfortunate  unsuspecting  man. 
*^  Why  'tis  a  league  oflF !     Will  you  allow  me  a  fiacre  ?" 

''Certainly,"  said  Maillard.  "Sit  down  in  the  mean 
while ;"  and  then  he  whispered  something  to  a  man,  who  left 
the  hall. 

After  the  despatch  of  half  a  dozen  other  cases  in  succes- 
sion, the  man  to  whom  Maillard  had  whispered  re-entered, 
and  communicated  something  to  the  judge,  who  nodded 
approval,  and  turning  to  Blontmorin,  said  quietly  and  even 
politely  to  him, 

''  The  car'riage  that  is  to  convey  you  to  your  destination 
waits  for  you." 

Upon  receiving  this  fiendishly  equivocal  intimation  the  ex- 
minister  rose,  and  bowing  with  much  dignity  to  the  Court, 
quitted  the  hall.  In  thirty  seconds  afterwards  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  his  Eternal  Judge.  Immediately  on  passing  the 
threshold  of  the  door  his  head  was  cloven  with  an  axe. 

Pierre  Victor  Malouet  was  the  descendant  of  an  honour- 
able family  in  the  Puy  de  Dome,  and  was  born  in  July,  1740. 
At  the  period  of  the  Revolution,  he  was  Intendaut  de  la  Ma- 
rine at  Toulon,  and  was  elected  deputy  of  his  native  city  to 
the  States-G-eneral.  There,  in  conjunction  with  Lally  and  his 
friends,  disciples  of  Neeker,  and  moderate  in  their  views  of 
reform,  he  constantly  displayed  respect  and  attachment  for 
the  monarchy,  and  kept  aloof  from  the  intrigues  of  faction. 
He  attempted  to  check  the  revolutionary  spirit,  which  was,  he 
perceived,  assuming  a  dangerous  form.  He  opposed  the  arm- 
ing of  the  National  Guards,*  a  measure  which  he  regarded  as 
fraught  with  great  peril.  In  a  similar  feeling,  he  disapproved 
of  the  declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man,  thinking  that  "it 
were  better  to  re-establish  tranquillity  than  disturb  the  bands 

*  In  December,  1830,  this  principle  was  urged  (the  epochs  wore  nearly 
similar)  by  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  modern  times.  Among  other  influ- 
ential parties  solicited  by  the  friends  of  Prince  Polignac  and  his  ex-col- 
leagues (Peyronnet,  Chantilauze,  and  Guernon  de  Rainville)  to  interfere 
in  their  favour  at  their  approaching  trial  by  the  Court  of  Peers,  for  having 
signed  the  ordinances  of  Charles  X.,  was  Henry  Brougham.  It  will  easily 
bo  credited  that  he  warmly  assented.  Ho  wrote  accordingly  to  numerous 
persons  in  Paris,  possessing  the  power  to  befriend  the  prisoners,  and  con- 
tributed thus  mainly,  if  not  principally,  to  save  their  lives.  He  added  his 
counsel,  however,  on  another  point :  "  Do  not,"  said  ho,  "  do  not  re-establish 
the  National  Guard."     The  event  justified  his  prevision  and  warning. 


76  THE    IRISH 

of  society  by  metaphysical  definitions;"  and  contending,  that 
the  people  ought  to  be  recalled  to  sentiments  of  order  and 
submission  to  the  laws,  and  reconciled  to  the  payment  of  taxes, 
to  which  they  had  contracted  antipathy.*  He  declared  him- 
self in  favour  of  a  qualified  veto  {veto  suspensi/),  and  for  the 
division  of  the  Legislative  Body  into  two  permanent  Cham- 
bers. He  displayed  hostility  to  many  measures  which  he 
deemed  abuses ;  but  his  most  vigorous  eifort  to  interrupt  the 
march  of  innovation  was  directed  against  the  projects  of  the 
Abbe  Gregoire  and  his  confreres  '■'■  les  Amis  des  Noirs,"  and 
he  painted  in  vivid  colours  the  evils  they  had  already  pro- 
duced in  the  colonies,  and  those  further  evils  that  they  would 
infallibly  occasion. 

Between  Lally  and  Malouet  there  were  in  fact  many  points 
of  resemblance,  not  only  on  public  questions,  but  in  the  affec- 
tions and  suggestions  of  the  heart  on  private  matters,  with  also 
a  coincidence  and  success  in  their  demonstration  of  it.  Like 
Lally,  Malouet  had  been  named  a  Deputy  to  the  States-Gene- 
ral ;  like  him,  he  displayed  in  it  monarchical  predilections ; 
but  of  the  two,  the  royalism  of  Malouet  was,  perhaps,  the  more 
ardent.  Like  Lally,  he  deemed  himself  called  upon  to  repair 
the  injury  done  by  calumny  to  a  great  man,  for  whom  he  en- 
tertained affection.  Deeply  interested  in  the  political  events 
which  were  passing  before  his  eyes,  or  in  which  he  was  an  ac- 
tor, he  nevertheless  demanded,  and  by  perseverance  and  zeal 
obtained,  the  reversal  of  the  decree  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris ^ 
pronounced,  on  the  bth  of  May,  1781,  against  his  friend, 
the  celebrated  Abbe  Ruynal,  and  against  his  history;  which 
decree  had  ordered  ''that  the  author  be  arrested  and  impri- 
soned, and  his  book  burned  by  the  hand  of  the  public 
executioner." 

Antoine  Frangois  Bertrand  de  Molleville  was  born  at  Tou- 
louse in  1744,  and  reckoned  among  his  ancestral  relatives  the 
Cardinal  Chancellor  Jean  Bertrand  (or  Bertrande),  whose  me- 
mory in  1775  he  defended  against  an  attack  of  Condorcet,  in 
his  "Eloge  du  Chancelier  de'l'Hopital." 

Unfortunately  he  was  imbued  with  the  principle  that  the 
enjoyment  of  liberty  by  the  people  is  ever  stormy,  and  believed 
that  the  excesses  which  almost  always  result  from  attempts  to 
diminish  that  liberty,  are  necessary  consequences  of  its  exist- 

*  Lord  Castlereagh's  figure  on  this  head  was  less  accurately  defined.     He 
charged  the  people  with  "ignorant  impatience  of  taxation." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  77 

euce.  Actiug  uudcr  this  impression,  he  advised  the  monureh 
to  refuse  concessions  which,  according  to  him,  if  withheld, 
might  have  prevented  the  arrival  of  disasters,  and  finally  the 
extinction  of  royalty. 

lu  reply,  the  King  displayed  towards  him  one  of  those 
ephemeral  indications  of  firmness  which,  from  their  being  al- 
most immediately  afterwards  abandoned,  uniformly  tended  to 
his  own  injury. 

After  having  subsequently  filled  the  place  of  Director  of 
the  King's  Secret  Police,  he  was  ultimately,  like  his  friends  of 
whom  I  have  spoken,  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  England.  In 
1814,  on  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  he  returned  to  Paris, 
where  he  was  received  with  much  favour. 


CHAPTEPt  XVI. 

CaiUabit  vacuus  coram  latrone  viator. 


Jnvciii.ll. 


La  politDsse  et  les  convenances  veulent  qu'on  proportionno  le  rire  a  la 
qualite  des  personnes  avec  lesquellcs  on  se  trouve,  afin  do  nc  pas  manquer 
au.\  egards  quo  Ton  doit  a  leur  rang — et — ii  leur  dignito. 

French  Proverb. 

IT  has  been  seen  that  M.  Lally  Tollcndal  was  more  fortu- 
nate than  his  friend  Montmoriu.  His  devotion  to  the  King 
and  his  only  moderate  liberalism  were  notorious.  He  had 
therefore  been  one  of  the  thousands  of  men,  similarly  distin- 
guished or  merely  susj^rcfed,  who  were  arrested  after  the  10th 
of  August  and  thrown  into  the  Abbaye.  His  previous  popu- 
larity, however,  the  general  esteem  in  which  he  was  held,  or 
the  personal  regard  of  some  powerful  friend  saved  him,  as  was 
equally  the  case  with  the  celebrated  philanthropist,  the  Abb6 
Sicard,  "  the  friend  of  the  deaf  and  dumb."  Sicard,  like  Lally, 
had  been  incarcerated  in  the  Abbaye  without  any  positive 
charge  against  him,  and  was  snatched  from  the  impending  tjlaive 
of  the  peiiple  souucrain  by  a  watchmaker,  named  Monuot,* 

*  This  fact  destroys  the   story  gotten  up  by  the  democrnts  of  modern 
times,  that  it  was  Robespierre  who  saved  the  Abbd  Sicard. 


78  THE    IRISH 

who  recognised  him  by  accident  in  the  crowd  of  unhappy 
inmates  of  the  Abbaye. 

On  his  escape  from  prison  Lally  once  more  took  refuge  in 
England,  where  he  remained  until  the  18th  Brumaire  arrived, 
when,  taking  advantage  of  the  clemency  of  Napoleon,  he  re- 
turned to  France.  He  took  up  his  residence  at  Bordeaux,  but 
quitted  it  in  1805,  to  visit  Paris  to  present  his  homage  to 
Pope  Pius  YIL,  who  had  come  to  officiate  at  the  coronation 
of  the  Emperor.  There  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Lyons,  uncle  of  the  Emperor,  better  known  in 
later  days  as  Cardinal  Fesch.  Through  him,  probably,  he  ob- 
tained means  of  approach  to  Napoleon,  and  became  sensible  of 
the  irresistible  fascination  which  that  wonderful  man  exercised 
over  all  who  came  in  contact  with  him.  To  this  influence 
were  due,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he 
lauded  the  Concordat  just  concluded  by  Napoleon  with  the 
Pope,  and  his  flattery  of  the  former,  at  a  period  too  when  he 
could  not  have  recovered  from  the  efi"ects  of  a  sarcasm  in  which 
the  Chief  Consul  chose  to  reply  to  an  application  from  him  for 
a  2;rant  of  means  of  subsistence.  ''  Ah  ha  !"  exclaimed  Na- 
poleon,  when  Lally's  petition  was  presented  to  him  on  passing 
through  the  town  where  he  resided.  "Ah  ha!  this  drole 
wishes  to  be  like  the  Colossus  at  Rhodes,  with  one  foot  on 
Calais  and  the  other  on  Dover"  (alluding  to  the  pension  on 
the  Irish  Establishment  accorded  to  Lally  by  the  English  Go- 
vernment in  1792). 

The  recorded  bou-mots  of  the  Duke  of  "Wellington  are 
fewer  than  those  of  his  great  antagonist  Napoleon.  In  fact, 
between  the  two,  few  parallels  are  to  be  found.  Its  rarity,  at 
least,  will  therefore  recommend  the  follo-n-ing  companion  to  the 
unfeeling  jest  just  recounted.  Attached  to  one  of  the  regi- 
ments of  the  British  army  in  the  Peninsula,  was  a  surgeon  of 
the  name  of  O'Reilly.  He  was  as  tall,  as  slim,  and  as  springy 
as  Ireland,  "  the  Flying  Phenomenon,"  whom  some  people  in 
London  and  Dublin  will  remember  to  have  seen  at  Astley's 
Amphitheatre,  hopping  (for  such  was  the  movement)  over 
half  a  dozen  horses  side  by  side,  but  at  a  distance  of  a  yard 
from  each  othei*.  Surgeon  O'lleilly  was  the  lightest-footed 
and  one  of  the  lightest-hearted  fellows  in  the  British  army, 
and  in  this  latter  quality  only  exceeded  by  his  and  my  old 
friend,  Maurice  Quill.  He  did  not  spend  all  his  time  in  pi-o- 
fessional  business  or  amusement,  however.     He  had  a  great 


ABROAD   AND   AT    HOME.  79 

facility  ia  the  acquisition  of  languages,  and  applied  himself 
first  to  the  study  of  those  of  Spain  and  Portugal  respectively. 
Having  acquired  them,  he  sought  to  attain  a  knowledge  of  the 
patois  of  the  inhabitants  of  whatever  district  he  happened  to 
be  quartered  in. 

One  day,  on  a  somewhat  important  occasion,  a  peasant  was 
brought  before  the  Duke,  and  was  questioned  by  him  touching 
the  topography  and  statistics  of  the  neighbourhood,  the 
strength  and  movements  of  the  enemy,  &c.  The  man  could 
not  understand  the  questions,  and  consequently  could  not 
reply  to  them.  In  this  dilemma,  somebody  mentioned  Surgeon 
O'Reilly.  He  was  immediately  sought  and  pi-esented  to  the 
Duke,  who  dictated  to  him  a  series  of  questions  upon  which 
to  examine  the  peasant.  The  latter  understood  O'Keilly  per- 
fectly, and  was  equally  understood  by  him.  After  the 
examination,  both  were  dismissed  by  the  Duke. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  week,  the  Duke  was  riding 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  quarters,  and  was  surprised  to 
observe  a  complete  field  of  ofiicers,  of  all  ranks  and  arms,  at 
some  distance  ofi";  and  occasionally  between  him  and  the 
horizon  a  white  body  would  rise  and  fall,  each  appearance 
being  more  and  more  remote. 

<'  What  is  all  this  ?"  asked  the  Duke. 

An  officer  of  his  staff  rode  off,  and  returned  laughing.  "  It 
is  only  Surgeon  O'Reill}^,  sir,"  said  he,  "engaged  in  one  of 
his  steeple-chases." 

*'  Who  are  his  competitors  ?" 

"He  has  none,  sir;  but  he  considers  that  a  race  over  a 
certain  distance,  necessitating  a  number  of  extraordinary  leaps, 
in  height  or  length,  is  a  steeple-chase.  The  whole  camp  is 
occupied  at  this  moment  with  one  of  them." 

The  Duke  rode  on,  without  further  remark. 

Some  months  or  years  later,  O'Reilly  had  occasion  to  seek 
.n  favour  at  the  hands  of  his  illustrious  commander  and  fellow 
'•  Meathian,"  and  ventured  to  recall  to  his  Grace  the  service 
he  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  render  in  the  examination  of 
the  peasant.  The  Duke  had  forgotten  the  circumstance,  for 
he  remarked:  "I  have  no  recollection  of  the  qualities  of  your 
head,  but  a  perfect  remembrance  of  those  of  your  heels." 

I  am  unable  to  add  if  Lally  Tollcndal  or  Surgeon  O'Reilly 
owed  to  the  renowned  persons,  who  had  thus  condescended 
to  jest  upon  them  respectively,  any  advantage  beyond  that  of 


80  THE    IRISH 

immortality.  It  is  fair  to  assume,  for  it  would  be  disgraceful 
were  it  otherwise,  that  the  rebuff  which  each  received  was 
accompanied  by  a  salve  for  their  wounded  sensibility — an 
infliction  the  more  lache  because  perpetrated  with  perfect 
security  against  resentment. 

Little  remains  to  be  said  of  the  Marquis  de  Lally  Tollendal. 
He  was  received  with  favour  by  "  the  Restoration,"  created  a 
peer,  and  otherwise  distinguished.  His  public  conduct  thence- 
forward, in  the  Chamber  of  Peers  especially,  was  only  in  fact 
the  continuation  of  the  course  he  had  followed  in  the  States- 
General.  He  was  rather  a  good  than  a  great  man.  After  an 
active  political  life,  he  died  during  the  Restoration ;  and, 
although  some  little  inconsistencies  were  observable  in  him, 
was  followed  to  the  gi-ave  with  regret  and  respect. 

From  his  pen  we  should  have  had  the  Memoirs  of  his 
father,  but  for  a  curious  circumstance.  He  was  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Nccker.  This  led  to  close  intimacy  with  the  illus- 
trious daughter  of  that  minister,  Madame  de  Stael,  which 
terminated  only  with  life.  On  the  appearance  of  the  first 
volume  of  Michaud's  '^  Biographic  Universelle,"  the  idea  of 
publishing  the  lives  of  their  respective  parents  suggested  itself 
to  them,  and  led  to  the  conclusion  of  an  agreement  between 
them  worthy  of  their  filial  love.  Lally  undertook  the  biogra- 
phy of  Necker,  and  3Iadame  de  Stael  charged  herself  with 
the  Memoirs  of  General  Lally.  Each  performed  the  task  which 
had  been  undertaken ;  and  their  respective  productions  appeared 
in  the  "  Biographic  Universelle." 


CHAPTER  XVI r. 

The  lions  of  Greece  become  foses  at  Ephesus. 


Lar, 


HOW  far  political  inconsistency  in  a  public  man  is  blameable 
or  excusable  I  shall  not  discuss.     Every  age  and  country 
furnish  examples  of  it. 

The  most  remarkable  instance  of  the  inconsistency  of  public 
men  in  England  is  that  of  Mr.  Pitt ;  and,  more  recently,  that 
of  Sir  Francis  Burdett.      In  Ireland  several  such  examples  of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  81 

departure  froiu  professed  and  registered  opinions  have  occurred, 
and  among  them  that  of  Grattan ;  but  he  woukl  be  an  unworthy 
Irishman  who  should  regard  the  services  of  this  tnily  groat 
man  as  obliterated  by  a  single  error  of  judgment,  or  a  single 
concession  to  expediency,  whether  erroneous  or  justifiable; 
and  of  these  his  inconsistencies  only  consisted.  In  like  man- 
ner, the  personal  and  pecuniary  sacrifices  of  Sir  Francis  Bur- 
dett  to  the  popular  cause  in  early  life,  were  unjustly  held  to 
have  been  annulled  by  his  ultimate  Conservatism.  Himdrcds 
of  similar  cases  might  be  quoted,  of  men  changing  their  poli- 
tical opinions  late  in  life,  from  the  popular  to  the  unpopular 
side.  Among  them  may  be  cited  that  of  the  late  Mr.  Hus- 
kisson,  who,  from  a  bonnet  rouge  in  Paris,  became  in  his  own 
country  one  of  the  most  conservative  but  still  liberal  public 
men  whom  England  has  had  to  lament  in  the  present  century. 

Similarly,  Doctor  (now  Sir  John)    S ,  who,  from  being 

a  red-hot  Democrat  and  admirer  of  the  French  Ilevulution, 
changed  to  an  out  and  out  Antigallican  and  Conservative. 
The  examples  of  an  opposite  kind,  that  is,  of  repudiated 
Toryism,  are  comparatively  few. 

Of  the  former  class  we  have  had  in  Ireland  one  instance 
nearly  as  striking  as  that  of  Mr.  Pitt  in  England,  in  the  late 
Marquis  of  Londonderry,  better  known  as  Lord  Castlereagh. 
Like  Mr.  Pitt,  he  had  started  in  life  as  a  reformer,  but  had 
not  far  advanced  into  manhood,  when  he  became  the  most 
devoted  ally  and  instrument  of  the  British  Government  in 
Ireland.  The  name  of  Lord  Castlereagh  is  associated  with 
every  unpopular  measure  and  proceeding  of  that  government 
in  Ireland  from  1790  to  1800,  for  a  climax,  with  the  Union. 

Lord  Londonderry  was  as  remarkable  for  a  fine  face  and 
person  as  for  courtesy.  He  was  a  kind  master,*  and,  it  is  said, 
a  warm  friend ;  still  there  never  has  been  more  of  public  ran- 
cour expressed  towards  an  individual  than  against  him.  Colonel 
William  Stewart,  of  Killymoon,  who,  and  whose  ancestors, 
had  long  represented  the  county  of  Tyrone  in  Parliament,  and 
had  been  identified  with  all  the  popular  questions  of  Ireland 
except  one,  boasted  that  he  had  never  had  to  accuse  himself 
of  being  found  in  a  division  of  the  House  of  Commons  with 
Lord  Londonderry,  ''  even  on  the  Catholic  Question." 

How  far  the   liberalism   of   the  honourable   member  was 

*  One  of  bis  servants,  an  Irishman  of  Herculean  staiure,  ia  said  to  have 
died  of  grief  for  his  master. 
4  * 


82  THE    IRISH 

admirable,  my  readers  will  decide.  His  remark  showed  that 
he  inherited  the  &oi-clisant  patriotism  of  his  family,  which 
never  contemplated  regard  for  the  condition  of  his  Catholic 
fellow-subjects;  in  other  words,  he  and  his  ancestors  were  at 
once  ardent  champions  of  Irish  political  independence  and  of 
Irish  sectarian  intolerance.  Now,  Lord  Londonderry  sepa- 
rated himself  betimes  from  the  former  party,  and  became, 
professedly  at  least,  towards  the  close  of  his  career,  one  of  the 
warmest  advocates  of  religious  liberty.  His  countryman,  in 
contradistinction  to  him,  took  credit  for  ''consistency." 

Whether  Lord  Londonderry's  agency  in  effecting  the  Le- 
gislative Union  of  England  and  Ireland  were  praiseworthy  or 
the  contrary,  I  decline  expressing  an  opinion ;  but  as  a  decided 
and  unmitigated  enemy  of  the  liberal  party  in  the  Irish  Par- 
liament, and  of  the  United  Irishmen,  he  is  known  in  Ireland. 
Still  the  following  story  would  argue  that  this  difference  in 
public  opinion  did  not  interfere  with  his  private  friendships.* 

One  day  in  the  year  1798,  a  friend,  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment, called  upon  him  (then  Lord  Castlereagh)  at  his  house 
in  Merrion  Street.  He  entered  the  study  of  his  lordship  sans 
ceremonie.  *'  What  money  have  you  about  you?"  asked  the 
latter,  starting  up. 

"None,"  replied  the  visiter. 

"  Here,"  said  Lord  Castlereagh,  opening  a  drawer  of  his 
escritoire,  and  taking  from  it  some  rouleaux,  "  here  are  five- 
and-twenty  guineas;  go  down  to  the  Pigeon  House  forthwith, 
take  a  boat  there,  and  lie  to,  waiting  the  Holyhead  packet, 
which  will  sail  at  five  o'clock.  Board  her,  and  conceal  your- 
self in  Wales." 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  you." 

"  Look  here,"  said  his  lordship,  taking  from  a  bundle  of 
papers  on  his  table  one  carefully  folded,  "look  here;  these 
are  the  details  of  information,  confirmed  by  oath,  which  has 
been  received  against  you.  It  compromises  you  capitally  in 
the  conspiracy  of  the  United  Irishmen.  Whether  truly  or 
falsely,  you  know ;  but  whether  tnily  or  falsely,  it  will  lead  to 
your  arrest  within  an  hour  from  this  time,  unless  you  follow 
my  counsel." 

His  friend  read  the  document  with  dismay,  shook  Castle- 

*  One  of  the  toasts  of  tbo  Irish  convivialists  at  that  period  was — "May 
a  difiference  in  opinion  on  public  subjects  never  interfere  with  private 
friendship." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  83 

reagh  by  the  hand,  accepted  the  money,  repaired  to  the  Pigeon 
House,  and  in  all  other  particulars  conformed  to  the  advice 
given  him;  nor  did  he  return  to  Ireland  until  the  rebellion 
was  over,  and  all  pursuit  of  parties  implicated  in  the  conspi- 
racy which  preceded  it  had  ceased. 

To  the  person  who  communicated  to  me  this  anecdote,  I 
observed  that  it  might  be  in  my  power  to  make  public  an 
amiable  ti'ait  in  the  character  of  a  man  who  was  not  generally 
believed  to  have  allowed  himself  to  be  influenced  by  ordinary 
feelings ;  but  as  it  difi'ered  so  completely  from  the  received 
impression  respecting  Lord  Castlereagh,  it  was  desirable  that 
proof  of  its  truth  should  be  afforded  by  giving  the  name  of 
the  party  benefited.  This  he  undertook  to  procure  for  me ; 
but  the  descendant  of  the  person  who  had  been  seiTcd,  would 
not  assent ;  and  preferred  suffering  a  creditable  action  of  a 
man  whose  name  is  loaded  with  obloquy  in  Ireland  to  remain 
questionable,  to  the  avowal  that  his  own  parent  had  at  one 
period  been  disaffected  to  the  British  Government.  So  much 
for  gratitude. 

My  informant,  a  man  of  truth  and  honour,  remains  in  the 
belief  that  this  story  is  true  to  the  letter.  True  or  false,  the 
story  bears  only  on  the  private  impulses  of  Lord  Castlereagh, 
which  appear  to  have  been  kind  and  friendly.  It  leaves 
untouched,  however,  the  question,  "  Is  political  consistency, 
'  coute  qui  coute,'  laudable  or  blameworthy  ?" 

On  this  question,  as  on  most  others,  "  much  may  be  said 
on  both  sides."  That  consistency  is  generally  deemed  estima- 
ble, is  proved  by  the  universal  pretensions  to  it  that  one  observes 
even  by  men  in  whom  its  absence  is  obvious.  Some  slyly 
claim  it  by  remarking  that  others  have  it  not;  as  we  see 
people  assume  credit  for  good  sense  and  exemption  from 
weakness  by  exposing  little  peculiarities  of  their  neighbours. 
We  have  laughed  at  the  innocent  inconsistency  of  poor  honest 
Todd  Jones,  and  (I  record  it  without  disrespect  or  irreverence) 
find  it  equally  in  a  higher  man. 

The  late  kind  and  excellent  King  William  IV.  (then  Duke 
of  Clarence)  was  once  conversing  with  Mrs.  Dorothea  Plow- 
den  (the  celebrated  beautiful  "  Dolly  Phillii^s,"  lady  of  Plow- 
den,  the  learned  historian  of  Ireland),  when  "  the  powers  of 
the  memory"  were  referred  to.  "  The  memory  of  my  (the 
royal)  family,"  said  the  Duke,  "  is  tenacious  to  a  proverb ;  in 
fact  it  proves  sometimes  annoying  and  a  nuisance  to  others. 


84  THE    IRISH 

For  example,  I  have  kuowa  my  sisters  say  to  a  lady  at  tlie 
drawing-room,  on  a  birth-day,  '  You  wore  that  petticoat,  or 
that  train,  this  day  five  years/  " 

About  the  year  1826,  the  same  Duke  of  Clarence,  then 
Lord  High  Admiral,  went  on  a  cruise  in  the  Channel,  to  try 
the  rate  of  sailing  of  the  two  new  three-deckers,  the  ''  Prince 
Kegent"  and  the  "  Princess  Charlotte,"  and  to  test  the  com- 
parative qualities  of  "the  Jacks"  and  of  the  marine  artillery 
(then  recently  created)  in  firing  at  floating  objects.  Passing 
along  the  coast,  the  Duke  would  halt  for  the  night  at  one  or 
other  seaport,  and  invite  the  oflicer  in  command  of  it  to  dine 
and  spend  the  evening  on  board  his  vessel.  On  one  of  those 
occasions  they  shipped  one  of  the  old  glories  of  the  navy — I 
think  it  was  Sir  Richard  Keats.  When  he  came  on  board, 
the  Duke  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  It  is  a  good  while  since  we  met  first,  your  royal  high- 
ness," said  the  Admiral. 

"  One-and-forty  years  this  November.  You  wei'e,  when 
you  joined,  a  chubby,  rosy-cheeked  little  rascal,  with  a  blue 
jacket,  having  a  double  row  of  brass  buttons  on  it !" 

The  Mote  and  the  Beam,  partout  et  toujours. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

En  politique  les  chemins  droits  et  unis  sont  les  meilleurs. 

French  Proverb. 

ALTHOUGH,  according  to  the  royal  critic  quoted  in  the 
last  chapter,  the  tenacious  memory  of  some  persons  may 
be  a  nuisance  to  their  neighbours,  it  is  sometimes  intolerable 
to  the  possessor  of  it  himself,  especially  where  inadvertently 
it  reminds  the  sufi"erer  of  fatal  faults,  mistakes,  and  omissions. 
Various  epochs  are  mentioned  as  the  commencement  of  Napo- 
leon's fall.  Talleyrand  deemed  the  unprincipled  invasion  of 
Spain  "  le  commencement  de  la  fin ;"  others,  the  expedition 
against  Russia;  but  if  we  are  to  believe  his  own  confe.ssions 
and  self-accusations  in  Saint  Helena,  Napoleon's  reverses  were 
due  to  his  allowing  himself,  at  Tilsit,  in  1807,  to  be  duped  by 
his  own  inordinate  rapacity,  stimulated  by  that  pi-ofound  dis- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  85 

sembler,  the  Emperor  Alexander,  who  diverted  him  from  the 
reconstruction  of  the  kingdom  of  Poland,  then  so  facile,  and 
■which,  oh  I  retributive  justice  !  necessitated  the  expedition  to 
Moscow  five  years  later.  "Who  is  there,  with  a  particle  of  feel- 
ing, who  does  not  deplore  the  fate  of  the  heroic  army  which 
perished  in  consequence  of  Napoleon's  ingratitude  to  Poland? 
Who  is  there  who  does  not  lameut  at  this  moment  (February, 
1854),  another  result  of  it,  the  capability  of  Russia  to  attack 
its  unoffending  neighbour,  Turkey,  and  throw  all  Europe  into 
confusion,  and  possibly  war  ? 

It  -will  be  remembered  that  General  Lall}-,  when  summoned 
to  Paris  to  suggest  means  for  attacking  England  with  success, 
proposed  "a  descent  vipon  her  coast;  the  conquest  of  her 
American  colonies ;  or  the  reduction  of  her  power  in  India ;" 
and  that  these  being  declined,  he  exclaimed :  "  Then  you  lose 
the  opportunity  of  destroying  your  rival." 

Singular  coincidence  !  Nearly  similar  were  the  suggestions 
of  Napoleon's  mind  on  the  same  subject  fifty  years  afterwards! 
In  his  conversations  in  Saint  Helena  he  said,  "  I  ought  to 
have  re-established  the  kingdom  of  Poland ;  I  ought  to  have 
invaded  Ireland,  and  I  ought  to  have  attacked  the  power  of 
England  through  India." 

It  must  have  cost  Napoleon  much  to  acknowledge  that  he 
had  acted  ungratefully  to  the  Poles,  in  omitting  to  reconsti- 
tute their  kingdom,  for  it  was  admitting  the  principal  cause 
of  his  own  rain — the  well-merited  punishment  of  his  self- 
ishness. He  did  not  add  another  point,  which  he  might  have 
done,  that  independently  of  a  conviction  of  the  dangers  an 
expedition  to  Ireland  would  be  exposed  to  before  its  arrival, 
he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  importance  of  that  country,  and 
that  he  was,  moreover,  indisposed  towards  the  Irish  in  general 
by  the  ultra  democratic  principles  manifested  by  those  of  them 
whom  he  knew  in  Paris.  Their  intrepidity  in  the  ranks  of  his 
army  subsequently,  went  far  in  producing  that  repentance  for 
having  neglected  to  attempt  an  invasion  of  Ireland ;  for,  like 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  fighting  bravely  was  in  his  estima- 
tion the  first  quality  of  a  man  or  a  people.  He  erroneously 
accused  himself,  however,  when  he  took  blame  for  forgetting 
India,  in  which  quarter  he  to  the  last  supposed  England  was 
vulnerable. 

Urged  by  Arthur  O'Connor,  Thomas  A.  Emmet,  and  Dr. 
MacNevin,  he  in  1804  pretended  a  determination  to  invade 


86  THE    IRISH 

Ireland,  aud  Augereau  was  appointed  chief  of  the  expedition. 
To  carry  out  this  professed  project,  the  United  Irishmen  who 
had  taken  refuge  in  France  were  formed  into  a  legion,  at  the 
head  of  which  figured  Arthur  O'Connor,  raised  for  the  nonce 
to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-general,  and  Dr.  MacNevin,  and  Mac- 
Sheehy  (afterwards  aide-de-camp  of  Napoleon,  and  who  fell  by 
his  side  at  Eylau),  as  colonels.  O'Connor,  suspecting  that  Na- 
poleon was  not  in  earnest,  and  only  meant  a  demonstration, 
quitted  the  coast,  whither  he  had  been  summoned  to  embark, 
and  returned  to  Paris.  For  this  act  of  disobedience  he  was 
never  brought  to  trial,  nor  even  rebuked,  and  thenceforward 
he  declined  presenting  himself  at  the  levees  of  the  First  Con- 
sul, or  Emperor.  Believing  that  he  had  sinned  past  forgive- 
ness, and  that  his  elevation  to  the  rank  of  general  would  be 
annulled  in  consequence,  he  refrained  from  drawing  his  ap- 
pointments for  some  months.  One  day,  however,  he  was 
agreeably  surprised  by  a  communication  from  the  Ministry  of 
War,  that  it  would  be  convenient  if  he  were  to  take  up  his 
overdue  pay,  and  this  he  did  to  the  day  of  his  death,  nearly 
fifty  years  afterwards,  without  having  been  again  called  into 
service,  however.  General  O'Connor  was  the  only  superior 
ofl&cer  in  France  who  had  not  been  decorated  with  the  cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  so  offensive  to  Napoleon  was  his 
stern  republicanism. 

If  he  were  not  sincere  in  his  announced  intention  to  invade 
Ireland,  what  a  consummate  dissembler  was  Napoleon !  On 
the  26th  of  September,  1804  (5th  Vendemiaire,  An.  XIIL), 
he  issued  from  Mayence  the  following  order  to  the  Minister 
of  War:— 

"  My  Cousin — The  expedition  against  Ireland  is"  resolved- 
on.  You  will  have,  in  consequence,  a  conference  with  Mar- 
shal Augereau.  There  are  means  at  Brest  for  transporting 
eighteen  thousand  men.  General  Marmont,  on  his  side,  is 
ready  with  twenty-five  thousand  men.  He  will  endeavour  to 
disembark  in  Ireland,  and  will  be  under  the  orders  of  Marshal 
Augereau.  The  great  army  of  Boulogne  will  be  about  the 
same  time  embarked,  and  will  make  every  possible  effort  to 
penetrate  into  the  county  of  Kent.  You  will  tell  IMarshal 
Augereau  to  be  guided  in  his  proceedings  by  events.  If  the 
information  I  have  received  from  the  Irish  emigrants,  and  by 
the  persons  I  have  despatched  into  Ireland,  be  correct,  a  great 
number  of  Irish  will  range  themselves  under  our  colours  on 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOxME.  87 

our  landing.  He  will  then  march  straioht  on  Dublin.  If,  on 
the  contrary,  this  movement  be  retarded,  or  not  practicable, 
he  will  take  up  a  position,  and  wait  the  arrival  of  Marshal 
Marmont  and  his  large  army.  The  navy  will  be  ready,  I  am 
promised,  by  the  30th  Vendemiaire  (26th  of  October)  :  the 
land  force  certainly  at  that  period.  Marshal  Augereau  must, 
above  all,  provide  himself  with  a  good  commander  for  the 
artillery. 

*'  This  done,  I  pray  God  to  take  you  into  His  holy  keep- 
ing." 

Subsequent  orders  organized  this  projected  expedition; 
which  was  to  be  composed  of  fifteen  hundred  cavalry,  four 
hundred  artillery,  eighty  workmen,  a  troop  of  horse  artillery 
(eighty  men),  two  hundred  men  (four  companies)  of  the  wa- 
gon train,  two  hundred  sappers,  eighty  miners,  administrative 
supernumeraries,  servants,  &c.  (non-combatants)  five  hundred, 
infantiy  thirteen  thousand. 

One  of  the  ofiicers  to  be  employed  on  that  projected  expe- 
dition is  at  this  moment  at  my  elbow.  He  still  thinks  that  it 
was  really  contemplated ;  but  this  is  far  from  being  borne  out 
by  all  that  I  have  otherwise  heard  on  the  subject. 

Whether  there  be  any  doubt  respecting  the  threatened  in- 
vasion of  Ireland,  there  is  even  less  reason  for  believing  that 
Napoleon  really  meant  to  invade  England ;  and  it  is  not  the 
least  remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  his  history,  that 
the  opinions  of  the  very  best  authorities  in  France  are  to  the 
present  hour  in  opposition  on  the  point,  many  eminent  men 
believing  that  he  never  intended  attempting  it,  while  others 
aver  that  he  had  positively  decided  upon  its  execution.  In 
support  of  the  former  belief  comes  the  probability  that  he  was 
as  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  impracticability  of  the  gigantic 
expedition  he  affected  to  prepare,  as  my  readers  will  be  when 
they  become  acquainted  with  the  following  incident,  known 
now,  probably,  only  to  the  surviving  witness  of  it,  the  amia- 
ble, benevolent,  respectable,  and  venerable  Marquis  of  Bristol, 
who  inherits  his  father's  kindness  of  disposition  towards  de- 
serving Irishmen  in  adversity,  without  his  eccentricity. 

One  morning,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1805,  when  the 
eyes  of  all  England  were  fixed  upon  the  port  of  Boulogne  and 
its  flat-bottomed  boats.  Lord  Nelson  entered  the  private  cabi- 
net of  Mr.  Pitt  in  Downing  Street.  In  it  he  found  the  pre- 
mier and  his  secretary,  the  Earl  now  Marquis  of  Bristol. 


88  THE    IRISH 

"  T  have  given  you  the  trouble  of  calling  on  me,  my  lord," 
said  3Ir.  Pitt,  "  to  ask  your  opinion  respecting  the  armaments 
in  Boulogne,  and  of  the  measures  requisite  to  meet  them." 

"Those  armaments  are  formidable,  if  you  will,"  said  Nel- 
son ;  "  but  to  us  less  so  than  they  seem.  They  cannot  all 
come  out  in  one  tide,  and  before  the  second  tide  I  should  be 
upon  them." 

Here,  without  another  word,  terminated  the  conversation 
of  those  great  men  on  the  subject  which  agitated  the  entire 
world  at  that  period — France  and  Great  Britain  especially — 
the  invasion  of  Eno-land. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Sperate  et  vostnet  rebus  servate  secundis. 


Virgil. 


"  T70UE.  'if  is  a  wondrous  peacemaker."  It  is  not  less 
X  efficacious  in  making  war.  If  Nelson  and  his  fleet 
were  not  in  the  Channel,  and  no  opposition  could  be  made  by 
others  to  the  Boulogne  flotilla,  then  (as  in  the  similar  hypo- 
thesis of  the  Prince  de  Joinville)  a  landing  might  be  made  upon 
the  English  coast.  So  long  however  as  England  shall  be  wide 
awake,  and  upon  her  guard  against  open  or  concealed  enemies, 
so  long  will  invasion  be  chimerical.  The  harbour  and  basins 
of  Cherbourg,  formed  and  fortified  by  a  succession  of  the  ablest 
mihtary  engineers  and  at  an  outlay  perfectly  fabulous,  have  all 
the  capabilities  for  containing  and  protecting  a  fleet  of  forty  sail 
of  the  line.  They  are  constituted  to  keep  England  perpetually 
on  the  qui  vive,  hut  pari  passu  with  their  progress  have  been 
the  defensive  preparations  of  the  latter.  If  ever  war  again 
occur  between  these  ancient  rivals,  Cherbourg  will  act  an 
important  part  in  it ;  but  England  would  have  too  much  at 
stake  in  such  circumstances  to  justify  belief  that  she  would  be 
found  unprepared.  The  publication  of  the  particulars  of  the 
interview  of  Lord  Nelson  and  Mr.  Pitt,  just  recited,  would  have 
spared  the  English  public  much  alarm  and  much  pain  at  the 
period  of  its  occurrence,  but  it  did  not  suit  the  book  of  that 
statesman  to  check  the  enthusiasm  of  the  nation,  which  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  89 

threats  and  demonstrations  of  the  enemy  inspired,  and  which 
had  made  the  people  of  England  rise  nearly  as  one  man,  to 
meet  and  repel  them  and  to  assent  to  the  daily  augmentation 
of  taxation. 

Napoleon  did  not  speak  truly,  when  he  accused  himself  of 
neglecting  to  attack  England  through  India,  for  he  never  lost 
sight  of  it.  To  use  a  very  homely  figure,  he  resembled  in 
that  respect  the  Irishman  who  regarded  his  marriage  with 
"  the  rich  Widow  Muldoon"  as  half  concluded,  because  "  he 
had  his  own  consent  to  it;"  but  with  respect  to  India,  the 
banns  were  forbidden  by  a  power  which  the  Emperor  through- 
out his  reign  knew  to  be  irresistible.  The  suggestions  of  Lally 
ToUendal  in  1755  were,  therefore,  much  more  rational  than 
the  soi-disant  neglected  projects  of  Napoleon  fifty  years  later, 
for  in  Lally's  day  the  naval  preponderance  of  England  was  not 
complete. 

The  iron  must,  however,  have  entered  Napoleon's  soul  when 
he  recollected  his  faults  towards  Poland ;  but  he  paid  for  them 
by  his  overthrow.  The  defence  made  by  his  advocates  of  his 
calamitous  omission  to  re-establisb  Poland  as  an  independent 
state  in  1807,  consists  merely  in  the  speculative  danger  of  a 
triple  alliance  of  Russia,  Austria,  and  Prussia  against  France 
had  he  attemjDted  it.  The  same  unworthy  argument  is  ad- 
vanced in  extenuation  of  his  omitting,  preliminarily  to  his 
entrance  on  the  Russian  compaign  of  1812,  to  proclaim  the 
independence  of  Poland.  "Woe  to  the  power  which  trifles  with 
and  deceives  a  brave  and  loyal  friend  with  a  view  to  propitiate 
a  faithless,  pretended  ally !  Napoleon  permitted  the  Poles  to 
hope  that,  that  time  at  least,  their  devotion  to  France  would 
be  rewarded  by  their  reintegration  in  the  list  of  nations.  He 
preferred,  however,  the  professed  neutrality  of  Prussia  and 
Austria,  purchased  by  a  pledge  to  leave  to  them  possession  of 
the  grand  duchy  of  Posen  and  Galicia.  Fatal  error !  Fatal 
repetition  of  a  crime ! 

Few  authors  or  composers  have  been  more  frequently- 
guilty  of  quoting  and  repeating  themselves  than  has  Na- 
poleon, and  there  are  infinitely  fewer  who  have  had  such 
magnificent  conceptions.  He  had  succeeded  by  a  cokj)  de 
theatre  in  detaching  the  Emperor  Paul,  at  the  close  of  the  year 
1799,  from  his  alliance  with  England.  By  a  similar  claptrap 
he  in  1807  proposed  to  separate  Alexander  from  his  connexion 
with  Prussia  and  Austria.     In  the  former  case,  he  clothed, 


90  THE    IRISH 

ai'iued,  and  liberated  the  eighteen  or  twenty  thousand  Russians, 
engaged  in  the  expedition  to  the  Helder,  and  who  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  French,  and  sent  them  home,  newly  armed  and 
clothed  and  with  expressions  of  condolence  for  the  brave  men 
and  their  amiable  Sovereign,  whom  he  regarded  as  egare 
by  "  the  eternal  enemy  of  the  continent."  By  a  display  of 
generosity  and  moderation  at  Tilsit,  he  calculated  upon  gaining 
the  admiration  and  the  friendship  of  Alexander,  and  the  dis- 
solution of  his  connexion  with  Prussia  and  Austria.  He  suc- 
ceeded momentarily,  and  Poland  remained  in  chains. 

The  conduct  of  Napoleon  towards  Poland  and  the  Poles 
would,  probably,  have  been  similar  in  respect  of  Ireland  and 
the  disaifected  Irish,  had  the  opportunity  occurred.  He  allowed 
them  to  believe,  throughout  his  reign,  that  he  never  ceased  to 
occupy  himself  with  their  calls  upon  him  for  aid  to  throw  oif 
the  yoke  of  England,  but  he  had  ever  been  juggling  with 
them. 

Although  termed  "  The  Array  of  England,"  the  magnificenl 
force,  created  and  intrusted  to  him  in  May  1798,  the  United 
Irishmen  were  persuaded  that  the  object  of  it  was  the  separa- 
tion of  Ireland  from  connexion  with  the  sister  island.  This 
belief  was  entertained  the  more  universally  because  of  its  per- 
fect coincidence  with  the  political  crisis  in  Ireland,  where  the 
rebellion  commenced  about  the  identical  day  on  which  Napo- 
leon sailed  from  Toulon  at  the  head  of  a  hundred  ships  of  war 
and  300  transports.  A  lesser  co-operating  force  would  have 
sufficed  to  give  success  to  the  rebellion  in  Ireland.  Even  the 
1100  men  who  arrived  in  the  bay  of  Killala,  the  last  week  in 
August,  might,  had  they  marched  three  months  earlier,  have 
turned  the  scale. 

Much  as  the  United  Irishmen  desired  French  assistance, 
such  a  force  as  that  commanded  by  General  Bonaparte  would 
have  been  trop  fort  for  their  mere  independence.  They  had 
stipulated  for  an  expedition  of  not  less  than  5000  and  not  more 
than  10,000  men,  so  little  did  they  rely  upon  the  good  faith 
and  disinterestedness  of  the  French  government.  For  this 
caution  the  foundation  may  be  found  in  the  following  circum- 
stances. 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  91 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentea. 

AMONG-  the  remarkable  men  engaged  in   promoting  the 
cuaspiracy  of  the  United  Irishmen  in  1797  and  1798,  and 
who 

Fought,  bled,  and  conquered 

in  one  important  affair  of  the  subsequent  rebellion,  was  a  ci- 
devant  Roman  catholic  clergyman  named  Taaffe.  Habits 
of  intoxication  precluded  his  admission  into  the  upper  circles 
of  the  conspiracy,  but  his  unquestionable  Anglophobia,  his 
learning,  and,  when  sober,  his  sagacity,  commanded  for  him 
access  to  the  leading  members  of  it.  At  the  time  when,  in 
1797,  every  effort  was  made  by  the  conspirators  to  procure 
French  assistance,  Taaffe,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  conti- 
nent rendered  his  advice  desirable,  was  consulted  by  some  of 
the  chiefs  of  the  Union.  "  If  you  be  not  able  to  separate 
Ireland  from  England  unaided,  seek  French  co-operation," 
said  he,  *'  but  take  care  what  you  are  about.  If  the  number 
of  your  allies  be  sufficient  to  justify  their  attempting  to  hold 
the  country,  which  you,  with  their  help,  shall  have  rescued 
from  the  English,  they  will  keep  possession  of  it;  and,  when 
the  time  for  closing  the  war  between  France  and  England 
shall  have  arrived,  you  will  he  swopped  for  some  Sugar 
Island.'"^ 

*  Later  I  propose  giving  Louis  Bonaparte's  reason  for  reconiracnding 
(which  he  did,  warmly)  the  invasion  and  conquest  of  Ireland.  The  sense 
was — "Ireland  will  be  a  capital  e.tchange  at  the  end  of  the  war!''  Holland, 
Italy,  and  Switzerland  would  have  been  dealt  with  similarly  had  the 
war  ended  without  the  removal  of  Napoleon  from  the  throne  of  France, 
and  had  peace  been  concluded  by  treaty,  involving,  in  the  usual  way,  restitu- 
tions or  exchanges — without  the  slightest  consideration  for  the  wishes  or 
predilections  of  the  people  so  transferred,  and  whose  adhesion  to  the  late  or 
transferring  government  might  have  irretrievably  compromised  them  with 
the  new  or  original  rulers  of  their  country. 

Was  not  Father  Taaffe  inspired  when  he  so  counselled  the  United  Irish- 
men ?     Why  the  French  did  not  dream  of  holding  America,  after  assisting 


92  THE    IRISH 

Such  to  the  letter  was  the  fate  of  Poland  ten  years  after- 
wards ! 

Yes !  to  that  reprehensible  policy  alone  is  to  be  ascribed 
his  fatal  omission  to  re-establish  Poland ;  not,  as  is  alleged,  be- 
cause of  his  apprehending  that  Austria,  outraged  by  the  pros- 
pectiA'e  loss  of  Gallicia,  which  would  necessarily  form  part  of 
reconstituted  Poland,  would  attack  his  right  flank  with  the 
forty  thousand  men  she  had  concentrated  in  Bohemia,  under 
the  convenient  and  equivocal  title  of  "Army  of  Observation." 
Austria,  however,  had  a  little  private  injury  of  her  own  to 
avenge,  and  preferred  doing  it  to  concurring  in  the  great  en- 
terprise of  disabling  France.  Austria  detested  Prussia  for  her 
temporizing  conduct  in  the  Austerlitz  campaign  of  1805,  and 
was  only  too  happy  in  an  opportunity  to  "return  her  money" 
by  refraining  from  any  declaration  or  demonstration  in  her 
favour  in,  now,  similar  circumstances.  Prussia  had  kej^t  aloof 
while  Austria  fought  the  battle  of  Aiisterlitz,  determined  to 
join  her  had  she  been  successful.  Austria,  with  feelings  and 
views  of  precisely  the  same  nature,  looked  on  while  Napoleon 
annihilated  Prussia  at  Jena ;  conduct  on  the  part  of  each  at 
once  impolitic,  petty,  miserable,  and  detestable.  Such  conduct 
was  imitated  to  a  certain  extent  by  Georgey,  at  the  battle  of 
Kapolna,  on  the  26th  and  27th  of  February,  1849,  which 
nevertheless  Dembinski  gained ;  but  from  which  he  was  not 
able  to  reap  the  advantages  that  a  decided  victory  would  have 
secured  to  him,  to  Hungary,  and  to  Poland.  There  is  this 
diiference  in  the  cases,  however :  the  conduct  of  Prussia  and 
Austria  was  respectively  and  contemptibly  impolitic ;  that  of 
Georgey  would  appear  to  have  been  treason,  although  his 
friends  attempt  to  extenuate  it  by  saying  that  he  only  remained 
in  observation,  expecting  that  Dembinski  would  be  beaten, 
and  that  then  he,  Georgey,  would,  like  "honest  little  Spado," 
present  himself  with  his  formidable  army  and  "pick  up  the 
laurel !" 

AVhat  advantage  has  Poland  derived  from  her  devotion  to 
France,  evinced  by  the  powerful  co-operation  of  the  Polish  Le- 

in  its  successful  revolt,  and  whj'  they  did  not  "swop"  it  for  some  or  other 
acquisition  by  England  during  the  war,  suggested  possibly  to  TaafTe  Lis 
wise  advice.     In  that  instance  the  French,  probably 

— Let,  I  dare  not,  wait  upon,  I  would. 

The  case  of  America  proves  nothing,  therefore,  against  TaafFe's  theory. 


ABROAD    AND    yVT    HOME.  93 

gion  in  the  first  wars  of  the  Republic,  in  the  Tilsit  campaign, 
and  subsequently  in  that  of  Mosco\y,  and  in  the  glorious  though 
unfortunate  one  of  1813  and  1S14?     Let  us  see. 

Under  the  Restoration,  of  course  nothing  was  done  by 
France  for  Poland.  After  the  Revolution  of  1830  Poland  re- 
volted, and  created  for  France  a  diversion  of  the  most  power- 
ful kind,  if  indeed  it  be  true  that  she,  because  of  her  own 
revolution,  was  threatened  with  invasion  by  the  Northern 
Powers.  In  what  way  was  the  gratitude  of  the  monarchy  of 
July  expressed  for  this  good  service  ?  By  an  annual  vote,  or, 
as  Sir  Francis  Burdett  once  charactei'ized  the  pretended  advo- 
cacy of  the  Catholic  claims  by  certain  portions  of  the  British 
Cabinet,  "an  annual  farce."  Motions  were  made  every  year 
in  the  Chambers  of  Peers  and  Deputies  respectively,  that  "Po- 
land continued  to  be  the  object  of  sympathy  in  France;"  and 
even  this  unftieaning  assurance  was  not  carried  without  violent 
opposition  to  it.  Louis  Philippe  knew  well,  however,  that  if 
the  Chambers  were  hypocritical  in  the  matter,  the  feeling  of 
the  nation  was  with  the  Poles ;  and,  with  his  proverbial  adroit- 
ness, he,  in  a  particular  emergency,  on  the  20th  of  July,  1831, 
turned  it  to  his  own  advantage. 

That  day  was  the  concluding  one  of  the  anniversary  of 
"  the  three  glorious  days"  of  the  preceding  year.  IMarshal 
Sebastiani  had  not  yet  pronounced  that  appalling  sentence, 
which  produced  upon  the  world  horror  equal  to  that  of  Byron 
when  he  quoted  Suwarrow's  despatch  from  Ismail.  "  Or])ER," 
said  Sebastiani,  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  of  Louis  Phi- 
lippe, "reigns  in  Warsaw  !" — order  in  that  case  being  the 
silence  of  death,  utter  discomfiture,  and  desolation. 

No.  Sebastiani  had  not  then  uttered  that  heartless  phrase  : 
Praga  and  Warsaw  were  still  in  Polish  hands. 

"There's  not  a  street 
Where  fights  not  to  the  last  some  desperate  heart — " 

But  Louis  Philippe  well  foresaw  and  contributed  to  insure  the 
denouement.  During  the  entire  struggle  of  the  Poles,  in 
1830-31,  his  government  had  discouraged  every  demonstra- 
tion of  feeling  for  Poland  in  France,  while  the  nation  in  gene- 
ral called  for  French  intervention  in  the  unequal  contest,  for 
which  it  alleged  as  a  reason  that  the  interference  in  favour  of 
Greece,  in  1826,  was  an  example  which  France  of  1881  was 
bound  to  follow;  but  even  this  argument  fiulcd.     A  coldness 


94  THE    IRISH 

towards  Louis  Philippe  resulted,  and,  coupled  with  other  con- 
siderations, had  made  such  progress,  that  on  the  occasion  to 
which  I  refer,  the  King  felt  it  keenly. 

The  rejoicings  in  commemoration  of  "the  three  glorious 
days"  of  July,  1830,  were,  on  the  29th  of  July,  1831,  to  ter- 
minate with  a  review  of  the  National  Guard  of  Paris  and  of 
the  regular  troops  in  garrison  in  that  city.  The  former  were 
drawn  up  in  a  line,  extending  from  the  Place  Vendome  to  the 
Boulevard  des  Capucins,  and  thence  to  the  Place  de  la  Bas- 
tille, on  the  south  side  of  the  Boulevard ;  the  troops  on  the 
opposite  side.  It  happened  that  on  that  day  the  Horse  Na- 
tional Guai'ds,  although  not  armed  with  lances,  put  on  for  the 
first  time  their  new  head-dress,  the  Polish  cap,  the  picturesque 
schapska,  which  had  previously  been  adopted  by  the  regiments 
of  lancers  in  the  French  and  British  armies. 

The  review  by  Louis  Philippe,  was  performed  by  his  pass- 
ing along  the  line  by  the  right  side  on  proceeding  to  the  Bas- 
tille, and  by  the  left  on  his  return  to  the  Place  Vendome.  He 
had  made  considerable  progress  without  being  saluted  by  a 
single  cheer.  A  melancholy  silence  was  preserved  by  the  Na- 
tional Guards,  and  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  because  of  the  neu- 
trality observed  by  his  government  in  the  Polish  contest.  The 
King  adroitly,  influenced  by  an  actual  report  made  to  him, 
terminated  that  painful  silence,  and  turned  the  tide  in  his 
favour.  "  Have  you  heard,"  said  he,  in  a  familiar  tone,  to 
one  of  the  generals  by  whom  he  was  accompanied,  "  have  you 
heard  the  news  ?" 

"No,  sire." 

"  The  Poles  have  gained  a  complete  victory  over  the  Bus- 
sians,  who  have  lost  twenty-five  thousand  men  killed,  wounded, 
nnd  prisoners." 

This  was  overheard  by  some  officers  of  the  National  Guard 
a  cTieval,  who  were  mixed  up  with  the  brilliant  staff  of  the 
King.  They  halted,  allowed  the  cortege  to  proceed,  and, 
riding  over  to  the  line  of  National  Guards,  communicated  the 
welcome  intelligence,  which  ran  with  the  proverbial  rapidity 
of  rumour  at  once  from  the  Boulevards  des  Italiens  to  the 
Bastille,  and  to  the  Place  Vendome.  The  people  who  crowded 
the  Boulevards  caught  it  from  the  National  Guard,  and  a  shout 
arose  from  three  hundred  thousand  men  which  rent  the  air. 
"  Vivent  les  Polonais  !  Vive  le  Roi !"  saluted  Louis  Philippe 
at  every  step  from  that  moment  until  he  returned  to  the  Palais 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  95 

Koyal.  I  ueed  hardly  add  that  the  statement  made  by  Ilis 
Majesty  rc(iuired  confirmation,  for  it  turned  out  to  be  utterly 
without  foundation. 

Louis  Philippe  was  not,  however,  the  sole  gainer  by  this 
soul-stirring  ruse  and  mystification  of  some  or  other  party. 
The  Horse  National  Guards,  with  their  schajjska,  revived, 
wherever  they  appeared,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  public  for  the 
Poles.     It  was  the  last  cheer  to  that  expiring  nation. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

A  strange  coincidence — for  that's  the  phrase 
By  which  such  things  are  settled  now  a-daj-s. 

BvROJf. 

I  OUTLIVED— as  is  evident— the  French  Revolution  of 
1830,  and  (make  me  thankful !)  that  also  of  1848.  Of 
both  I  was  an  eye-witness.  This  is  not,  however,  the  coinci- 
dence bespoken  by  the  motto  of  the  present  chapter — it  is  the 
remarkable  one  that  the  general  officer  in  command  of  the 
royal  troops  who  fought  against  the  Parisian  insurgents  in 
1830  was  the  son  of  an  Irishman,  and  that  he  who  occupied 
the  same  position  in  1818  was  the  son  of  an  Irishi<;o?na?i.* 
This  will  appear  a  whimsical  rap2:)rocliement  probably,  but  I 
take  credit  for  it  nevertheless  as  a  literal  Irish  coincidence. 

I  may  be  reminded  that  Marshal  Marmont,  Duke  of 
llagusa,  as  Commandant  of  the  first  military  division  (of 
which  Paris  is  the  chief  place)  during  the  insurrection  and 
revolution  of  1830,  must  be  regarded  as  the  Military  Governor 
of  the  capital.  The  nominal  official  Commandant  of  Paris  at 
that  time,  however,  was  General  Coutard. 

This  officer  had  had  rapid  promotion.  On  the  morning  of 
21st  April,  1810,  he  was  only  chef  de  battaillon  in  a  French 
regiment — one  of  those  engaged  in  the  siege  of  Astorga  in 
Spain.  We  find  him  in  July,  1830,  a  general,  commanding 
''  la  Place"  in  Paris.  Similar  success  did  not  attend  a  foreign 
officer  equally  in  the  service  of  France,  with  whom,  on  the 

*  Mademoiselle  Sutton,  daughter  of  Count  Clonard,  formerly  captain  in 
the  regiment  of  Berwick,  Irish  Brigade. 


9G  THE    IRISH 

morning  just  mentioned,  he  vras  near  having  ''an  affair"  at 
the  very  gates  of  Astorga.  This  foreigner  was  Hugh  Ware — 
(a  descendant  or  collateral  relative  of  Sir  James  Ware) — a 
native  of  Kildare,  Ireland,  and,  at  the  epoch  of  which  I  speak, 
captain  of  grenadiers  in  the  Irish  regiment,  which  also  formed 
part  of  the  Corps  d'  Annie  of  General  Junot  (Due  d'iVbrantes). 
The  particulars  of  this  "  affair"  are  relevant  because  they  refer 
to  ''the  Irish  abroad" — the  introduction  of  them  here  may, 
possibly,  on  that  account,  be  held  justifiable  and  apropos. 

A  storming  party  of  half  a  dozen  compagnies  cV elite  of  the 
army  of  Junot,  led  by  the  intrepid  Captain  (now  Colonel)  John 

A ,  a  native  of  Dublin,  had  entered  the  breach  in  the 

walls  of  Astoro-a  the  evening  before,  and  made  a  lodgment  in 
the  covered  way.  The  town  capitulated  in  consequence  on 
the  following  morning,  and  was  delivered  up. 

By  some  mistake,  or  more  probably  through  favouritism. 
Commandant  Coutard  received  orders  to  lead  the  march  of  the 
French  army  into  the  town  at  the  head  of  the  two  companies 
of  grenadiers.  On  arriving  at  the  gate,  he  found  Ware  already 
there,  with  the  Irish  grenadier  company. 

"  You  must  give  place  to  me,"  said  Coutard. 

"  Impossible,"  said  Ware.  "  Our  light  company  opened 
the  way  into  the  town  by  the  breach  yesterday  evening.  The 
honour  of  marching  first  in  by  the  gate  is  therefore  ours  by 
right." 

Coutard  persisted,  observing  :  "  I  have  two  companies." 

''  In  my  old  trade"  (civil  engineer)  "  that  would  make  a 
difference,"  said  Ware,  "but  not  in  my  present  one:  in  this 
kind  of  thing,  I  would  make  our  claim  good,  had  you  two 
regiments." 

A  quarrel  was  imminent.  The  bayonets  were  about  to 
cross,  when  Junot,  being  informed  of  it,  ordered  (on  the 
principle  of  giving  a  triumph  to  neither  party)  that  Ware  and 
Coutard  and  their  grenadiers  respectively  be  withdrawn. 

To  account  for  the  promotion  of  Coutard,  and  the  inter- 
ruption of  Ware's  career,  it  is  only  necessary  to  observe,  that 
the  former,  on  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  took  service  under  the 
restored  Bourbons,  and  that  the  latter  declined  it. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME,  97 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Erapereur  chasseur :  dynastie  perdue. 

French  Proverb. 

'•'  rVis  s'emprcsse  beaucoup  de  fairc  chasser  les  Jeunes 
\J  Princes/'  says  Madame  de  Genlis,  ia  her  "  Dictiouuaire 
des  Etiquettes."  *'  En  voyaut  durant  leur  education,  los  soins 
qu'en  general  on  pretend  a  cet  egard,  on  eroirait  qu'il  est 
tr^s  important  de  leur  inspircr  le  gout  de  la  chasse,  et,  c'est 
precis^ment  le  coutraire  qu'il  faudrait  faire." 

I  wonder  had  Madame  de  Genlis  Charles  X.  in  her  eye, 
when  she  wrote  the  remarkable  woi'ds  just  quoted.  He  was 
a  mighty  hunter,  and  he  destroyed  his  dynasty.  At  the 
breaking  out  of  the  insurrection  in  Paris  on  the  27th  of  July, 
1830,  General  Coutard  was  sea-bathing  at  Havre  or  Dieppe. 
The  command  of  "the  Place"  devolved  therefore  on  General 
Wall  as  next  senior  officer,  and  was  exercised  by  him  during 
the  three  days ;  but,  for  a  time  at  least,  under  the  authority 
of  Marmont,  who,  if  I  remember  correctly,  did  not  appear 
during  the  insurrection.  Indeed  it  is  said  that  he  did  not 
quit  the  Etat-Major  in  the  Tuilerics  from  the  commencement 
to  the  end  of  the  conflict.  All  the  energy  of  "  the  young 
officer  of  artillery,  who  immortalized  himself  in  defence  of  the 
blockading  lines  of  Mayence  in  1795,  when  surprised  by 
Clairfayt,"  and  the  heroism  of  "the  clipf  de  hataillon,  who 
gained  a  sabre  of  honour  at  Lodi,"  and  "  who  distinguished 
himself  in  a  hundred  battles  subsequently  in  Italy,  Malta, 
Egypt,  at  Marengo,  and  in  Germany  and  Dalmatia,  and  (so 
far  as  intrepidity  could  go)  in  Spain;"  all  the  energy  and 
faculties  of  "  the  once  favourite  aide-de-camp  of  Napoleon," 
seemed  to  have  departed  from  him  in  the  presence  of  civil  war 
in  1830.  Was  it  that  one  false  step,  his  abandoning  of 
Xiipoleon  at  the  critical  moment  (and  which  obtained  for  him 
such  profound  unpopularity),  that  paralyzed  him  'i  or  was  it 
really  his  duty  to  remain  in  the  Chateau  by  the  side  of  the 
ministers,  a«  his  friends  contend  ?  It  is  certain,  at  any  rate, 
that  he  did  not  fight  durino;  the  27th,  28th,  and  29th  of  July, 
5 


98  THE    IRISH 

1830,  aud  that  Wall  commauded  out  of  doors  in  those  days  of 
peril,  and,  for  the  elder  branch  of  the  Bourbons,  days  of 
misfortune. 

G-eneral  Wall  did  all  that  was  practicable  under  these 
circumstances  with  the  very  limited  force  at  his  disposal,  which 
consisted  on  the  27th  of  July  of  some  battalions  of  the  Garde 
Royale,  including  a  regiment  of  Swiss,  and  of  the  5th,  15th, 
50th,  and  53d  regiments  of  the  line,  and  some  cuirassiers  and 
lancers  of  the  guard,  in  all  not  more  than  eight  thousand  two 
hundred  (it  has  been  estimated  even  so  low  as  seven  thousand 
five  hundred)  men.  With  this  handful  he  had  to  attack 
barricades  thrown  up  or  formed  in  every  quarter  of  that 
extensive  city,  and  a  population,  or  rather  the  inhabitants  of 
Paris  of  every  class,  animated  with  the  most  inveterate  hati*ed 
of  the  reigning  family.  Wall  failed,  but  has  never  been 
blamed  or  reproached  for  the  issue. 

He  could  not  have  succeeded,  in  fact.  The  two  hundred 
aud  twenty-one  deputies,  who  in  March  of  that  year  (1830) 
defeated  Ministers,  rendered  by  that  act  a  revolution  inevitable. 
This  was  demonstrated  the  month  following  at  the  dinner  given 
to  the  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  at  the  tavern  called  the 
''  Vendanges  de  Bourgogne,"  at  which  I  was  present,  seated 
by  the  side  of  George  La  Fayette.  The  fatal  ordonnanees, 
those  monuments  of  Prince  Polignac's  utter  incapacity  as  a 
statesman,  only  precipitated  a  catastrophe  sure  to  happen. 
Its  advance  was  obvious ;  yet  no  step,  no  preparation  to  prevent 
or  retard  it  was  taken. 

The  late  Lord  Dundonald  resided  at  St.  Cloud  in  1830. 
His  house,  near  the  Infantry  Barrack,  commanded  a  view  of 
the  bridge,  the  river  Seine,  and  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  His 
sister-in-law  (the  late  respected  and  excellent  Miss  Plowdeu) 
was  on  a  visit  to  him  in  charge  of  her  niece,  who  had  lost  her 
mother.  A  day  or  two  after  the  Revolution,  I  proceeded  to 
St.  Cloud  to  inquire  for  her,  and  on  asking  some  particulars 
of  the  retreat  of  the  troops,  and  the  advance  of  the  insurgents, 
she  observed :  '^  The  recollection  of  it  is  so  painful,  that  I 
shall  endeavour  to  forget  it.  We  were  looking  anxiously,  as 
you  may  believe,  towards  the  bridge  and  the  road  from  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  when  he  saw  the  party  of  the  Garde  Royale 
arrive,  which  had  bivouacked  in  the  hois  the  previous  night 
(29th  of  July),  retreating  in  haste  and  disorder.  Several  of 
the    soldiers  were  observed  to  fling  their   muskets  over  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  99 

bridge  to  enable  them  to  run  faster.  At  length,  the  last  of 
them  had  reached  our  end  of  the  bridge,  whereupon  Ave 
naturally  looked  for  their  pursuers.  We  could  not  believe  our 
eyes.  There  appeared,  in  full  trot,  entering  upon  the  bridge 
from  Boulogne,  some  half-dozen  bare-footed  gamins  of  Paris, 
followed,  it  is  true,  by  a  straggling  column,  to  which  no  power 
of  description  or  ridicule  could  do  jvistice.  They  displayed 
some  regard  for  their  safety,  however,  for  perceiving  that 
ample  means  were  provided  on  our  side  the  bridge  to  sweep 
them  into  eternity,  they  halted,  and  leisurely  and  undisturbed 
retired  to  the  other.  They  are  now,  as  you  perceive,  in  full 
possession  of  the  Chateau  and  the  town." 

All  had  been  ignorance,  carelessness,  and  presumption  at 
the  Chateau,  during  the  three  days. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  clay  (the  29th  of  July),  while 

Charles  X.  was  playing  his  party  of  whist,  the  Due  de , 

who  held  a  high  situation  in  the  royal  household,  entertained 
half  a  dozen  of  his  colleagues  at  dinner  in  his  apartment  in  the 
Chateau.  A  boiled  fowl  figured  in  the  repast.  The  host 
tasted  it,  and  found  it  execrable. 

*'  Mais  non,"  said  the  Count  d' ,  ^'mais  non.     C'est 

excellent." 

'•'  Mon  ami,"  said  the  Duke,  gravely,  "  it  would  have  been 
excellent  had  it  been  boiled,  as  it  should  have  been,  in  houll- 
lon."  Then  turning  to  an  attendant,  he  said  :  ''  Send  for  the 
chef." 

That  functionary  having  appeared,  the  Duke  remarked, 
placing  his  fork  on  the  leg  of  the  fowl  he  had  before  him  : 
"  Mon  ami  Durand,  be  frank.     Was  this  fowl  boiled  in  hoidl- 

Ion  r 

The  chef,  as  little  confused  as  a  Frenchman  generally  is, 
when  any  attempt  is  made  (at  that  impossible  conclusion)  tc 
show  him  he  is  in  error,  said :  "  Partly,  Monsieur  le  Due." 

"  Partly  !"  exclaimed  his  master. 

"  Partly,  only.  I  had  not  enough  houillon,  and  was  oblige! 
to  add  to  it  a  hetle*  drop  of  water." 

"There  !"  said  the  noble  host,  triumphantly,  to  his  guests. 
''  There  !  you  see  I  could  not  be  deceived." 

x\nd  this  was  his  point  of  importance,  in  the  Chateau,  at 
such  a  moment!     And  yet  there  are  in  this  world,  people 

a  "  Une  trfig  petite-petite  goutte." 


100  THE    IRISH 

wlio  wonder  at  the  ease  with  which  the  Revolution  of  July 
was  effected ! 

I  must  cite  another  instance,  however.  Before  the  Court 
broke  up  from  St.  Cloud,  and  before  the  troops  were  withdrawn 
from  that  admirable  flankinp;  position  in  its  vicinity,  Mont 
Valerien,  ci-devant  Jlont  Calvaire,  now  a  fortress  (the  right 
flank  being  covered  by  Meudon),  General  Vincent,  a  renowned 
officer  of  the  Imperial  army,  but  who,  from  his  notorious 
attachment  to  the  Bourbon  family,  was  continued  in  his  rank 
after  tlie  Restoration,  presented  himself  to  Charles  X.  on  the 
30th  of  July :  ''  Sire,"  said  he,  "  we  have  them  all  at  the 
mouths  of  our  pieces.  Give  but  the  word,  and  I  shall  disperse 
this  canaille,  by  whom,  to  our  shame,  we  are  surrounded  and 
menaced." 

"  I  shall  ask  the  Archbishop's  advice  first,"  said  the  King. 

Vincent  looked  grave,  not  daring  to  raise  his  eyes  to  those 
of  his  comrades,  who  were  as  impatient  as  he  to  attack  ''the 
rabble"  in  front  of  them.  The  King,  taking  the  prelate  aside, 
consulted  him.  The  Archbishop  opposed  the  effusion  of  blood, 
and  did  wisely ;  for  at  that  moment  the  Revolution  was  inevi- 
table, and  Vincent's  propo.sition  was  rejected.  He  immediately 
retired  from  St.  Cloud  in  disgust  and  despair.  A  species  of 
capitulation  followed ;  and  Charles  X.  and  his  Court,  escorted 
by  the  brave  and  loyal  Garde  Royale,  commenced  his  journey 
to  the  coast.  He  halted  for  a  moment  at  Rambouillet,  because 
all  the  money  promised  him  by  the  Provisional  Government 
had  not  arrived ;  but  he  recommenced  his  retreat  without 
waiting  for  it,  in  consequence  of  the  march  of  ''  all  Paris"  upon 
him.  The  money  was  paid,  however,  and  he  was  suffered 
quietly  to  embark.     Thus  ended  the  second  Restoration. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    IIUME.  101 


CHAPTER  XXIIl. 

S'il  se  trnuvnit  h  la  cour  d'un  prince  sept  officiers  (miniutres)  vdritablemnnt 
z61es  et  qui  osassent  lui  remontre  son  devoir,  quelque  corrompu  qu'il  I'Qt,  il 
ne  perdrait  point  sa  couronne. 

Proverbe  Chinois. 

Who  talces  fear  for  his  counsel  loses  his  cause. 

French  Proverb. 

1HAVE  endeavoured  to  show  that  General  Wall's  eiforts  to 
put  down  the  insurrection  which  broke  out  in  Paris  on  the 
27th  of  July,  1830,  could  not,  because  of  the  utter  insuffi- 
ciency of  the  means  of  repression  at  his  command,  succeed, 
even  though  guided  by  the  advice  of  Marshal  Marmont. 

With  Bugeaud,  in  Februar3%  1848,  the  case  was  different. 
Disafi"ection  had  long  been  known  to  exist :  revolt,  sooner  or 
later,  was  predicted;  but  this  was,  by  those  predisposed  to  it, 
on  the  22d  of  February,  1848,  deemed  still  far  off.  Not  so 
the  Ministers.  Those  most  surprised  by  the  revolution  which 
commenced  in  Paris  on  that  day,  were  precisely  those  who 
were  engaged  in  preparing  it,  and  this  includes  the  whole 
"corps  de  Reduction"  of  the  "National"  newspaper. 

The  government  had,  nevertheless,  long  since  taken  every 
possible  measure  of  precaution  to  meet  and  repel  an  outbreak. 
With  this  view,  Paris  had  been  accurately  surveyed,  and  all 
its  features  studied ;  every  spot  which  appeared  desirable  to 
occupy  with  troops  in  case  of  a  revolt,  was  indicated  in  a  plan, 
or  diagram,  laid  down  with  a  judgment,  a  tact,  and  an  acciaracy 
that  would  have  raised  envy  in  that  master  of  the  art  of  direct- 
ing a  first  representation — Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  With 
skill  equal  to  his,  the  place  of  every  actor  in  the  forthcoming 
drama  was  dictated.  The  position  of  every  gun,  howitzer,  and 
caisson ;  of  every  general  and  other  superior  officer;  of  every 
corps,  regiment,  company,  detachment,  or  man,  and  of  horse, 
forming  the  magnificent  garrison  of  Paris,  on  the  first  appear- 
ance of  danger,  was  clearly  indicated.  Occurrences,  inci- 
dents, accidents,  were  foreseen,  and,  as  far  as  foresight  could 
suggest,  prepared  for.  The  grouping,  separation,  re-forming, 
and  rallying,  were  decided  upon.     The  parts  were  distributed 


102  •  THE    IRISH 

and  rehearsed,  and  a  signal  only  was  necessary  for  the  com- 
mencement of  the  general,  well- concerted  action.*  Means  in 
men,  horses,  and  materiel,  for  carrying  out  this  programme, 
were  provided,  and  to  supei-fluity. 

Another '' strange  coincidence"  is  here  observahle — "the 
dinner  of  the  t^YO  hundred  and  twenty-one"  rendered  the 
Revolution  of  1830  inevitable — a  projected  dinner  was  the 
immediate  agent  in  producing  the  Revolution  of  1848. 

A  banquet,  at  which  were,  to  assemble  the  members  of  the 
Liberal  Opposition  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  all  the 
malcontents  of  every  class  who  would  go  to  the  expense  of  a 
ticket  for  it,  was  projected  for  the  22d  of  February,  and  a 
locale  (at  the  top  of  the  avenue  of  the  Champs  Elys^es) 
selected.  A  thousand  guests  would,  it  was  expected,  be  pre- 
sent. A  chairman  and  stewards  were  named,  and  all  the 
minor  arrangements  made ;  but  at  the  eleventh  hour,  Monday, 
the  government,  judging  accurately  and  acting  wisely,  prohi- 
bited the  banquet. 

This  was  precisely  to  the  taste  of  the  "  National,"  "  Re- 
forme/'  and  other  republican  newspapers,  who  made  the 
utmost  use  of  it  in  crying  out  against  the  arbitrary  measure. 
The  articles  published  by  them  on  the  subject  were  of  an 
exciting  kind ;  but  these  proceedings  had  been  anticipated  by 
the  secret  societies,  who  on  the  preceding  night  had  met,  and 
recommended  to  their  members  a  course  of  action,  which 
developed  itself  on  the  following  (Tuesday)  morning. 

Inhabiting  a  house  which  looked  upon  the  Boulevard  des 
Italiens,  I  was  at  an  early  hour  that  morning  attracted  to  the 
window  by  a  dull  sound,  or  buzz  of  human  voices,  and  then 
beheld  a  sight  which  prepared  me  for  the  events  which  subse- 
fiuently  happened.  The  whole  of  the  pavement  on  both  sides 
the  Boulevard  was  filled  with  a  stream  of  people,  directing 
their  steps  towards  the  Madeleine,  with  (as  I  afterwards 
found)  an  intention  of  proceeding  to  the  spot  appointed  for 
the  forbidden  banquet.  This  appearance  existed  on  both 
sides  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  continued  for  many 
hours ;  until,  indeed,  further  progress  was  interdicted  by  an 

*  It  was  said  that  it  was  this  plan,  found  in  the  archives  of  the  Minister 
of  War  of  the  Interior,  after  the  Revolution  of  February,  1S4S,  which 
suggested  to  the  insurgents,  in  the  month  of  June  following,  the  positions 
which  they  occupied  during  that  terrible  insurrection,  which  enabled  them 
to  render  it  so  formidable. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  103 

armed  force — at  liivst,  consisting  only  of  small  bodies  of  horse 
and  foot  municipal  guards,  but  who  were,  at  a  later  hour,  rein- 
forced by  cavalry  and  infantry  of  the  line. 

As  every  man  in  Paris  was  aware  that  the  proposed  dinner 
had  been  forbidden,  the  object  of  this  formidable  demonstration 
flashed  upon  every  observer,  those  among  them  particularly 
who  had  witnessed  former  insurrections ;  for  here,  as  on  those 
occasions,  the  majority  of  the  men  who  formed  the  continuous 
torrent  passing  before  our  eyes  were  in  the  prime  of  life,  with 
a  grave  yet  sarcastic  expression  upon  their  countenances,  and 
wearing,  moreover,  an  unmistakeable  air  of  resolution.  Their 
costume  was  that,  however,  which  most  struck  the  experienced 
spectator.  Over  their  other  clothing  they  wore  their  war  mat, 
the  blue  blouse,  new  or  nearly  so,  having  been  carefully  funded 
since  the  last  occasion.  "■  What  materials  for  a  revolution  I" 
exclaimed  a  friend  who  had  called  upon  me  at  the  moment. 
"  Such  was  ray  own  thought,"  I  replied. 

When  further  progress  towards  the  Champs  Elysees  was 
offered  to  the  moving  masses  at  the  Madeleine,  in  the  Rue 
Royale  and  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  considerable  crowds 
were  formed  of  them.  These  crowds  were  dispersed  by  the 
troops,  but  they  re-formed  every  moment.  As  usual,  as  the 
day  wore  on,  some  (jamins  (boys  and  striplings)  became  dis- 
orderly. The  mounted  i\Iunicipal  Guard  would  then  trot 
among  the  groups,  and  distribute  blows  with  the  flats  of  their 
sabres.  Instead  of  producing  the  desired  effect,  this  moderate 
proceeding  only  incited  to  further  and  more  decided  aggression. 
The  Place  de  la  Concorde  (ci-devant  the  Place  de  la  llevolution), 
was  at  length  entirely  cleared,  and  then  successively  the  Rue 
Royale  and  the  Place  de  la  Madeleine,  by  strong  detachments 
of  the  Garde  Municipale  i\  Cheval,  Cuirassiers,  and  Lancers. 
From  the  steps  of  the  Church  of  the  Madeleine,  a  view  of  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution  was  obtained,  and  from  thence  could 
1  o  seen  horse  soldiers  galloping  after  urchins  who,  in  defiance 
of  them,  would  attempt  to  run  across  the  square.  At  length 
atones  were  thrown,  charges  of  cavalry  became  frequent,  and 
some  sword-wounds  were  inflicted.  This  was  the  immediate 
prelude  to  a  serious  riot.  A  detached  party  of  boys  passed  up 
the  Champs  Elysees  and  attacked  an  isolated  guard-house  in 
the  Avenue  Martignon,  near  the  Rue  Ponthieu,  from  which 
its  occupants  were  driven.  They  then,  with  the  materials 
of  some  houses  in  course  of  construction  in  a  new  street,  to 


104  THE    IKISH 

be  called  Rue  de  Joinville  (it  is  now  the  Hue  de  Cirque), 
threw  up  two  barricades,  but  as  tbey  were  left  in  undisturbed 
possession  of  them,  they  decamped.  The  guard-house  was 
subsequently  burned.  Still  the  men  en  blouse  uttered  no 
word  and  gave  no  sign,  remaining  merely  iu  observation. 

From  thence  towards  the  evening,  however,  the  spirit  of 
resistance  ran  through  the  city.  Hasty  barricades  were 
formed,  and  a  series  of  partial  and  irregular  conflicts  took 
place,  in  which  unhappily  some  lives  were  lost.  At  nightfall, 
as  usual  in  Parisian  insurrections,  the  contending  parties  re- 
tired to  their  respective  quarters  with  a  gravity  nearly  as  pro- 
voking as  that  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  sword  in  the  Seven 
Years'  War  at  the  setting  in  of  winter. 

It  would  have  been  perfectly  easy  then,  with  the  supera- 
bundant means  in  the  hands  of  government,  to  obviate  a 
formidable  insurrection  on  the  morrow,  and  for  which  one 
party  only  were  prepared.  The  time  that  ought  to  have  been 
applied  to  the  display  of  force,  and  to  some  negotiation  with 
popular  and  influential  men  to  act  as  mediators,  was,  however, 
thrown  away.  Like  the  courtiers  of  1789  and  1830,  the 
"  great  riot"  was  suffered  by  the  ministers  of  Louis  Philippe 
to  assume  colossal  proportions,  and  become  a  revolution. 
They  were,  in  fact,  fear-stricken.  Tradition  and  evidence 
had  shown  them  how  formidable  were  le  vrai  pevple  once  on 
foot,  and  although  they  had  in  anticipation  provided  irresisti- 
ble means  to  meet  and  crush  a  revolt,  if  promptly  and  inexo- 
rably applied,  they  trembled  for  that  which  the  chapter  of 
accidents  might  produce.  With  an  army  of  sixty  thousand 
men,  and  a  National  Guard  of  eighty  thousand,  they  feared 
collision  with  a  totally  unarmed  populace.  They  quailed, 
dreaded  taking  the  initiative,  and  abandoning  their  several 
hotels,  congregated  during  the  nights  of  the  19th,  20th,  and 
21st  of  February  in  that  of  their  colleague  of  the  Interior, 
which  was  deemed  the  best  situated  for  protection  from  a  couj:) 
de  main,  or  for  flight.  Had  Marshal  Bugeaud  been  invested 
with  the  command  of  Paris  on  the  night  of  the  22d  of  Febru- 
ary, with  as  pleoary  powers  as  Napoleon  had  been  on  that  of 
the  13th  Vendemiaire,  and  Soult  in  June,  1832,  April,  1834, 
and  3Iay,  1839,  he  would  have  made  short  work  of  the  emcute. 
This  was  not  done,  and  the  people  were  left  accessible  by  the 
secret  society  men,  who  as  the  night  advanced  urged  them  lo 
throw  up  further  barricades,  and  to  collect  or  fabricate  arms 


AB-ROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  105 

The  day  of  the  23d  dawued,  therefore,  upon  numerous  fortified 
positions,  and  considerable  numbers  of  resolute,  though  insuf- 
ficiently armed,  men  to  defend  them.  Still  the  real  "■  people" 
were  not  in  the  affair,  and  the  leaders  of  the  secret  societies 
^yere  yet  far  from  imagining  that  a  revolution  might  be  made 
to  grow  out  of  these  materials.  Had  ]3arbes*  been  at  liberty, 
he  would  have  committed  them  and  the  cause,  but  on  the 
morning  of  the  23d  serious  resistance  of  the  troops  appeared, 
to  the  sane  among  the  disafi"ected,  problematical  if  not  impos- 
sible. 

The  dispersion  of  the  insurgents  by  the  yet  unaccounted- 
for  fusillade  from  the  garden  of  the  Ministry  for  Foreign 
Affairs  ou  that  night,  23d  of  February,  1848,  would  argue 
that  Bugcaiid,  if  left  to  himself,  would  have  overwhelmed  the 
revolt.  His  triumph  would,  however,  it  must  be  confessed — 
have  had  only  a  brief  duration.  The  efiects  of  that  same 
fusillade  show  (convince  me  at  least)  that  Bugcaud  who,  to 
confirm  his  success,  would  have  been  obliged  to  occupy  the 
city  militarily,  and  to  do  military  execution,  would,  in  so  act- 
ing, have  provoked  among  the  better  classes  of  the  Parisians  a 
sympathy  for  the  victims,  and  would  thereby  have  occasioned 
a  2;eneral  outburst.  From  the  moment  when,  on  the  forenoon 
of  the  28d  of  February,  the  National  Guards  interposed,  in 
front  of  the  church  of  the  Petits  P^'res,  between  the  Municipal 
Guards  and  the  populace,  and  had  done  so  in  a  similar  manner 
in  front  of  a  barricade  in  the  Piue  Vieille  du  Temple  on  the 
evening  before,  it  became  evident  that  the  slaughter  of  the 
people  would  not  have  been  permitted  by  the  National 
Guards ;  and  would  have  occasioned  a  general  outburst  which 
would  have  been  supported  by  the  departments,  who  would 
have  marched  on  Paris,  and,  though  not  contemplating  it  be- 
fore the  riots  of  the  22d,  have  completed  the  Revolution. f 

One  word  upon  that  influential  incident,  the  fusillade  ou 
the  Boulevard  des  Capucins. 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  that  day,  I  witnessed 
on  the  Boulevard  the  passage  of  a  long  and  tumultuous  column 

*  M.  Barljes  was  an  advocate,  and  possessed  a  considerable  fortune.  IIo 
was  the  leader  in  the  insurrection  of  12th  May,  18.39,  and  proved  himself  an 
unmitigated  republican,  daring  and  intrepid. 

f  A  year  has  elapsed  since  the  above  first  appeared  in  type.  On  this,  9th 
February,  1854,  I  have  learnt  from  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
modern  times,  that  Louis  Philippe,  in  a  conversation  with  him  atClaremont 
in  1850,  expressed  a  similar  conviction. 

5  * 


106  THE    IRISH 

of  people,  some  of  whom  were  undei*  the  excitement  of  the 
day's  conflict,  many  of  them  intoxicated,  some  armed,  others 
with  torches.  This  mass  poured  along  in  the  direction  of  the 
Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs,  which  building  and  its  garden 
were  occupied  by  a  battalion  of  the  14th  regiment  of  the  line. 
In  front  of  it  was  a  very  imposing  force  of  infantry,  cuiras- 
siers, and  municipal  guards.  The  cries  of  the  insurgents  as 
they  passed  along  were  of  the  most  horrible  character ;  for 
among  them  was,  as  is  ever  the  case  in  Parisian  insurrections, 
a  large  mixture  of  thieves  by  profession,  whose  audacity  is  the 
most  extreme  that  can  be  conceived.  It  was  evident,  that  a 
collision  between  them  and  the  troops  must  ensue,  if  the  latter 
refused  submission  to  them.  I  was  not  surprised  therefore  by 
the  heavy  firing  which  took  place  shortly  afterwards,  nor  by 
its  fatal  effects.  Between  fifty  and  sixty  persons,  most  of 
them  mere  spectators,  were  killed  or  wounded  by  the  dis- 
charge. The  principal  portion  of  the  insurgents  fled.  The 
thieves,  in  default  of  better  prey,  turned  their  attention  to  an 
iron  railing  which  protected  the  passengers  on  the  pavement 
of  the  Boulevard  asrainst  fallincr  into  the  Rue  Basse  du  Hem- 
part.  Affecting  even  more  of  rage  than  animated  them,  the 
thieves,  who  never  dreamt  of  flight,  tore  down  these  palisades 
to  an  extent  of  many  yards,  and  carried  them  off,  while  the 
dead  lay  on  the  pavement,  and  the  wounded  were  being  con- 
veyed to  neighbouring  chemists'  or  apothecaries'  shops. 

This  fusillade  rendered  the  Revolution  inevitable.  The 
respectable  inhabitants,  who  had  heard  with  affright  the  noise 
of  the  combat  of  the  day,  and  who  had  made  many  efforts  at 
mediation,  and  who,  moreover,  had  been  terrified  by  the  pas- 
sage of  the  irregular  and  disorderly  mob  proceeding  towards 
the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs,  became  disgusted  with  the 
carnage  that  had  occurred,  and  at  daybreak  next  morning 
were  occupied  in  cutting  down  the  trees  in  front  of  their  own 
houses  on  the  Boulevard,  and  in  constructing  with  them  and 
with  paving-stones  barricades  more  or  less  formidable. 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  Revolution  was  complete,  and  Louis 
Philippe,  having  abdicated,  was  in  a  broiujliam  on  his  way  to 
Neuilly. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOIVIE.  107 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


I  caunot  flatter  and  speak  fair, 


Smile  in  men's  faces,  smooth,  deceive,  and  coy. 
Duck  with  French  nods  and  apish  courtesy. 

liichard  III. 

THE  three  days  that  succeeded  to  ''the  three  glorious  days" 
par  excellence,  of  July,  1830,  were  productive  of  momen- 
tous events.  The  Parisians,  still  in  arms,  were  waiting  with 
patience  the  result  of  the  intrigues  and  deliberations  proceeding 
in  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  were  evincing  in  their  victory  a 
moderation  without  example,  when  suddenly  there  arrived 
intelligence  that  Charles  X.  and  liis  suite  and  escort  (still 
12,000  or  15,000  strong)  had  halted  at  Rambouillet.  In  a 
moment  every  man  in  Paris  who  had  taken  part  in  the  late 
conflicts  and  every  man  favourable  to  the  revolution  who  had 
not  participated  in  them,  not  merely  presented  themselves  to 
be  regimented  and  sent  to  toss  the  fuyards  into  the  sea,  but, 
without  waiting  for  these  preliminaries,  seized  upon  every 
coach,  cart,  chariot,  wagon,  and  omnibus,  that  fell  in  their 
way,  and  set  off  in  most  admired  disorder  to  precipitate  the 
flight  and  departure  of  the  last  of  the  kings  of  France,  a 
finale  achieved,  however,  without  their  aid. 

Within  doors  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  intrigue  and  dissimula- 
tion triumphed,  and  another  trial  of  the  regal  system  was 
resolved  upon. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  those  who  practise  flattering 
through  sheer  benevolence  of  disposition,  become  the  dupes  of 
unscrupulous  professors  of  the  science.  In  complacence  to  all 
within  his  sphere,  La  Fayette  was  outrivalled  by  Louis  Philippe, 
to  whom  his  habit  of  amiable  acquiescence  and  his  unsuspecting 
confidence  in  the  avowed  principles  of  the  duke,  rendered  him 
an  easy  conquest. 

Among  those  whom  I  knew  in  the  crowd  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  on  the  30th  of  July,  1830,  was  General  Arthur  O'Con- 
nor {the  Arthur  O'Connor).  He  was  coming  down  the  steps 
from  it  when  I  met  him,  and  wore  an  air  of  unutterable  chagrin 


108  THE    IRISH 

and  disgust.     "Well,  General,"   said  I,   "how   are   matters 
going  on  within  ?" 

"To  utter  ruin,"  said  he.  "I  came  hither  to  ascertain 
what  we  were  to  derive  from  the  victory  just  achieved  by  the 
people,  and  was  struck  to  the  heai't  by  the  adulation  heaped 
upon  honest  old  '  Fayette,'  and  his  intoxication  from  its  fumes. 
'  Homme  du  peuple  !'  one  cried ;  '  Homme  des  peuples  !' 
another;  'Enfant  de  la  liberte !'  a  third;  '  Soldat  de  la 
liberte  !'  a  fourth;  'Homme  des  deux  mondes  !'  a  fifth.  It 
made  me  sick,  and  I  have  withdrawn  from  the  pack  of  intri- 
guants and  dupes :" 

And  fearful  boding  shook  him  as  he  spoke. 

A  few  days  afterwards  I  met  General  O'Connor  again,  and 
asked  him  whether  he  had  been  present  at  the  investiture  of 
Louis  Philippe  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

"  No,"  replied  he ;  "  but,  resolved  upon  ascertaining  whether 
my  misgivings  were  justified,  I  presented  myself  at  the  Palais 
Royal  next  day  and  saw  '  Orleans.'  Fully  prepared  to  permit 
no  evasion  and  also  to  withstand  cajolery,  I  was  nevertheless 
worsted  in  'the  keen  encounter  of  our  wits,'  but  had  all  my 
fears  confirmed.  We  separated,  notwithstanding,  on  civil 
terms ;  he  pi'ofessing  liberalism,  which  I  accepted  at  its  true 
value.  It  would  seem  that  on  his  side  he  was  impatient  to 
indulge  in  self-gratulation  at  his  supposed  victory  over  me,  for 
while  I  was  taking  leave  of  him,  he  could  not  suppress  a  look 
which  spoke  clearly  (to  use  an  Irish  homely  figure),  '  I  have 
thrown  dust  into  that  fellow's  eyes ;'  but  he  had  not."* 

When  summoned  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville  on  the  3d  of 
August,  Louis  Philippe  submitted  with  the  tact  of  a  Gloster, 
or  of  a  Sextus  Quintus,  to  a  species  of  ordeal  similar  to  the 
profession  of  faith  demanded  of,  and  always  so  speciously 
responded  to  on  the  hustings  in  England,  by  aspirants  to  the 
position  of  senator.  His  colloquy  with  La  Fayette  on  that 
occasion  was  a  tissue,  as  well  as  a  masterpiece  of  mystification. 
La  Fayette  was  touched,  and  gave  in.  The  hat  was  thrown 
up,  and  Louis  Philippe  was  proclaimed  king. 

Thus   he  who   thirty  years   previously  had  withstood   the 
almost  irresistible  blandishments  of  Napoleon,  and  the  sugges- 

*  General  O'Connor  had,  as  I  have  already  shown,  penetrated  the  insin- 
cerity of  Napoleon  in  his  announced  intention  of  invading  Ireland.  He 
now  displayed  similar  sagacity  in  respect  of  Louis  Philippe. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  109 

tions  of  gratitude  to  hiiu  for  his  delivery  from  Olmutz,  yielded 
with  seeming  fatuity  to  an  almost  fransparent  deceiver.  That 
which  appeared  pure  weakness,  was  however  pure  patriotism. 
La  Fayette  accepted  as  npis  allcr  a  pledge,  which  hatl  it  becu 
kept,  would  have  preserved  France  from  future  revolutions, 
and  which  at  once  terminated  a  crisis  that  might  otherwise 
have  degenerated  into  anarchy. 

The  dialogue  just  alluded  to,  and  which  preceded  this  im- 
portant result,  merits  however  something  more  than  mere 
mention.     Its  principle  points  were  these  : — 

''  A  Republic  is  the  very  best  form  of  govei'nment,"  said 
La  Fayette,  iuterrogativelj^  ? 

''No  man  who  has  like  you  and  me,  General,  been  in  the 
United  States,  can  deny  that  proposition,"  replied  Louis 
Philippe. 

Taken  by  this  admission,  urged  by  the  partisans  of  the 
duke,  who  were  unanimous  among  "the  221,"  and  following 
his  own  now  moderated  opinion,  as  well  as  recognising  the 
expediency  of  terminating  the  crisis  as  speedily  as  possible, 
La  Fayette  pronounced  this  ludicrous  new  reading  of  his 
foregoing  admirable  dictum — "  A  monarchy  surrounded  by 
Republican  Institutions,"  said  he,  "is  the  best  of  Republics  !" 

This  was  cheered  by  the  majority,  suffered  to  pass  by  the 
still  Republican  few,  and  the  elevation  of  Louis  Philippe  to 
the  vacant  throne  decreed. 

It  would  appear,  however,  that  later  the  duke — now  king — 
was  not  quite  at  ease  respecting  the  portee  of  the  nonsense  in 
which  La  Fayette  had  clothed  his  momentary  recantation  of 
republicanism.  It  appeared  ambiguous  to  the  clear-sighted 
intrigant  who  had  benefited  by  it,  and  who,  therefore,  consulted 
Talleyrand  upon  its  real  import,  resolved  to  have  it  defined 
publicly  if  so  advised. 

"  Yoyons,"  said  the  wily  and  witty  ex-bishop,  "uue 
Monarchic  eutour^e  des  Institutions  Republicaincs.  C'est  un 
jambon  entour^  do  persil.  Vous  pouvez  rejeter  le  persil 
quaud  cela  vous  plaira."* 

It  was  done  precisely  as  Talleyrand  recommended ;  and 
Louis  Philippe,  supporting  himself  on  the  well-earned  popu- 
larity of  La  Fayette,  perambulated  Paris  with  him,  taking  to 

*  "  Let  us  see.  '  A  monarch}'  surrounded  with  republican  institutions,' — 
it  is  'a  ham  ornamented  with  parsley.'  Accept  the  ham  and  throw  aside 
the  parsley  whenever  it  please  you." 


110  THE    IRISH 

himself  the  lion's  share  of  the  enthusiastic  salutations  with 
which  the  gulled  Parisians  hailed  the  gallant  veteran  revolu- 
tionist. Their  association,  so  profitable  to  him,  was,  however, 
irksome  to  Louis  Philip^^e  even  at  that  early  period  of  his 
reign.  He  therefore  submitted  to  the  presence  in  public  of 
the  great  agent  of  his  elevation  with  the  grace  and  dissimula- 
tion of  the  other  royal  duke  above  mentioned,  adding  inwardly, 
with  one  change,  in  the  precise  words  of  that  master  hypo 
crite, — 

"  I  Lave  him,  but  I  will  not  keep  him  long." 

Accordingly,  a  month  had  not  elapsed  after  his  elevation 
before  he  showed  symptoms  of  a  desire  to  throw  down  or  cast 
aside  the  two  steps  by  whose  aid  principally  he  had  mounted 
to  the  throne — that  is  to  say,  General  La  Fayette  and  M. 
Jacques  Laffitte,  the  banker.  One  consideration,  however, 
prevented  the  immediate  execution  of  this  design,  and  it  was 
an  admirable  one.  Those  personages  were — La  Fayette  espe- 
cially because  of  his  vast  popularity  and  his  command  of  the 
National  Guard — necessary  to  a  project  to  which  the  now  King 
devoted  all  his  energies ;  that  of  saving  from  the  scaffold  the 
four  ex-ministers  of  Charles  X.,  Prince  Polignac  and  MM. 
Peyronnet,  Chantelauze  and  Guernon  de  Rainville,  then  pri- 
soners in  the  citadel  of  Vincennes,  and  for  whose  blood  there 
was  an  almost  unanimous  cry  from  the  populace. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Plus  on  sert  des  ingrats  plus  on  s'en  fait  hair. 
Tout  ce  qu'on  fait  pour  eux  ne  fait  que  nous  trahir. 

CORNEILLE. 

THE  ingratitude  of  Richard  for  Buckingham  was  testified 
en  demon  ;  that  of  Louis  Philippe  for  La  Fayette  was  not 
less  profound  though  bloodless. 

Everybody  knows  more  or  less  of  General  La  Fayette,  the 
soldier  of  liberty  in  both  hemispheres.  He  was  vain,  possibly, 
but  he  was  a  man  of  truth,  and  was  brave  as  he  was  vain. 
Naturally  fearless,  he  pursued  the  bubble  reputation  through 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  Ill 

all  its  phases,  even  in  the  cannon's  month.  In  private  life  he 
was  the  soul  of  courtesy,  conquering  through  bonhummie, 
flattery,  and  winning  acquiescence.  At  the  early  age  of 
twenty-six — tall,  handsome,  and  well-bred — the  heir  of  a  mar- 
quisate  and  of  an  immense  fortune,  he  resolved  to  fly  to  the 
aid  of  the  Americans,  then  engaged  in  their  revolutionary 
conflict  with  Great  Britain.  To  prevent  this,  his  family  sent 
him  to  visit  London ;  but  that  step  only  facilitated  the  execu- 
tion of  his  project.  He  chartered  a  vessel  (purchased  for  him 
in  Spain,  to  escape  detection),  filled  it  with  arms  and  stores, 
and,  with  several  other  French  ofiicers,  embarked  for  America, 
where  he  distincjuished  himself  for  undaunted  couraae ;  and 
after  the  successful  termination  of  the  struggle  was  rewarded 
by  the  victors  with  the  decoration  of  the  order  of  ''  Cincin- 


natus." 


About  forty  years  subsequently,  he  accepted  an  invitation 
to  visit  the  Republic  he  had  contributed  to  establish.  Accord- 
ingly he  left  France  for  America,  and  became  a  nation's  guest. 
His  progress  through  the  States  was  a  real  triumph. 

At  Baltimore  it  was,  I  think,  that  La  Fayette  blazed  as  a 
consummate  courtier.  He  visited  there,  or  was  visited  by,  one 
of  the  conscript-fathers  of  the  American  Revolution,  now  a 
silver-haired,  stern  republican.  The  veterans  shook  hands. 
"You  wear  well.  General,"  said  the  American,  ''and  have 
figured  since  in  other  revolutions  than  ours."  "  Yes,  my 
friend,"  replied  La  Fayette  blandly,  and  placing  his  hand  on 
the  old  gentleman's  head,  while  his  eye  sparkled  with  good- 
nature— "And  you,  having  brought  to  a  successful  issue  your 
contest  for  independence,  have  retired  to  your  farm,  changed 
the  sword  for  the  ploughshare,  wedded  a  lovely  woman,  and 
become  the  father  and  the  grandfather  of  a  line  of  virtuous 


citizens." 


"  Married  I"  exclaimed  the  hoary  democrat.  "  Married  !  I 
never  was  married  in  my  life." 

"  Happy  dog  !  happy  dog  !''  returned  La  Fayette,  shaking 
him  by  the  hand  again,  with  a  look  of  intense  gratulation. 

If  gratitude  be  pi-aiseworthy  in  a  state,  America  deserves 
the  palm  for  it ;  and  of  this  La  Fayette  bore  from  her  shores 
splendid  proofs.  How  difi"erent  was  the  conduct  of  Republican 
France  towards  those  who  assisted  in  the  overthrow  of  the 
Monarchy  of  July  !  Where  are  the  foreigners  who  fought  for 
liberty,  as  they  imagined,  in  the  streets  of  Paris  in  February 


112  THE  mlsH 

1848  ?  Expelled  unfeelingly  and  penniless,  by  ordei"  of  the 
Provisional  GoA'ernment,  most  of  them  without  any  assignable 
cause ;  others  under  the  pretext  of  their  being  implicated  in 
disorders,  but  in  reality  all  to  gratify  native  workmen,  who  would 
not,  and  who  never  will,  tolerate  foreign  competitors.  While 
millions  were  squandered  upon  the  maintenance  of  the  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  idlers  and  cut-throats  in  the  Ateliers  Nation- 
aitx,  the  German  tailors,  the  English  and  Irish  labourers,  even 
the  unoffending  poor  little  colony  of  lace  (tulle)  weavers, 
seduced  from  Nottingham,  and  established  at  Calais,  under  the 
direction  of  an  Irish  gentleman,  were  ruthlessly  and  at  a 
moment's  notice  obliged  to  fly  from  the  knife  or  the  bayonet 
of  the  Montagncn-ds,  who  were  appealed  to  by  the  interested 
French  workmen,  to  rid  them  of  their  rivals. 

To  return  to  La  Fayette,  however.  That  the  Revolution 
of  1830  could  not  have  been  turned  into  a  monarchy  if  La 
Fayette  had  not  consented  to  it,  is  a  fact  incapable  of  denial. 
He  had  never  been  other  than  a  moderate,  and  possibly 
theoretical  Republican.  As  a  member  of  "  the  two  hundred 
and  twenty-one"  deputies,  whose  resistance  precipitated  that 
Revolution,  he  had  adopted  the  qualified  pretensions  of  that 
party  which  only  went  to  obtain  reform,  including  an  extension 
of  the  elective  franchise.  He  was  at  his  country  seat  (La 
Grange),  a  convenient  distance  from  Paris,  on  the  25th  of 
July  (the  date  of  the  fatal  ordonnances),  and  had  some  foreign 
friends  residino-  with  him — among;  others  Mr.  Rives,  an 
American  envoy,  sent  on  a  special  mission  to  demand  five 
millions  of  dollars  of  the  French  Govei*nment,  compensation 
for  losses  incurred  twenty  years  before  by  American  citizens, 
under  the  operation  of  Napoleon's  Berlin  decrees.  3Ir.  Rives 
was,  in  his  visit  to  La  Fayette's  seat,  accompanied  by  his  lady 
and  one  or  two  children. "*"  All  was  ease  and  tranquillity  at  La 
Grange,  when  an  express  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  Monday, 
26th  of  July,  acquainting  La  Fayette  with  the  ordonnances, 
and  summoning  him  to  Paris  forthwith,  to  assist  at  the  con- 
sultations of  the  "  two  hundred  and  twenty-one"  on  the  new 

*  I  add  here,  because  of  its  absurdity,  a  charge  brought  against  this 
gentleman  by  the  Red  Republicans,  that  a  republic  would  have  been  esta- 
blished on  the  ruins  of  the  monarchy  in  Julj',  1830,  but  for  his  influence 
upon  La  Fayette.  "  Mr.  Rives  was  charged,"  said  they,  "  to  recover  a  debt 
due  to  the  United  States,  and  fearing  that  a  republic  would  not  be  as  prac- 
ticable (honest?)  as  a  monarch,  prevailed  on  La  Fayette  to  recommend  a 
monarchy !" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  113 

position  of  affairs.  He  left  for  the  capital  early  iu  the  morning 
of  the  27th,  accompanied  by  the  guests  just  named.  On  his 
arrival  in  Paris,  the  people  were  already  skirmishing  with  the 
troops ;  and  "  the  two  hundred  and  twenty-one"  were  in 
council.  The  insurrection  had  not  yet  assumed  a  formidable 
aspect,  but  was  spreading  every  moment  amid  exasperation, 
produced  by  the  deaths  of  several  unoffending  men  and  women, 
from  the  firing  of  the  soldiers.  The  issue  could  not  yet  be 
foreseen — the  opposition,  therefore,  wise  in  their  generation, 
resolved  to  observe  attentively  and  act  according  to  circum- 
stances. 

The  result  is  known.  The  insurrection  went  on  increasing 
until  it  involved  the  whole  population  of  Paris  with  the  sole 
exception  of  the  royalists,  who  observed  throughout  the  conflict 
the  most  dastardly  neutrality.  The  troops  of  the  line  refusing 
to  act  against  the  people,  the  defence  of  the  throne  fell  upon 
the  Garde  Royale,  who,  worn  out  and  overwhelmed,  retreated  on 
the  evening  of  the  second  day  upon  St.  Cloud.  Next  day  the 
Revolution  was  completed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

La  ruse  la  mieux  ordie 

Peut  nuire  a  son  inventeur; 
Et  souvent  la  perfidie 

Retourne  sur  son  auteur. 

French  Proverb. 

"npOUT  les  raoyens  sont  bons  pourvu  qu'on  rdussisse,"  says 
I  Machiavel.  There  have  been  disciples  of  this  detestable 
counsellor,  however,  who,  stopping  short  at  the  first  portion 
of  this  proposition,  have  incurred  and  have  paid  the  penalty 
of  '•'  doing  things  by  halves."  Who,  ''  keeping  the  word  of  pro- 
mise to  the  ear  and  breaking  it  to  the  sense,"  have  found  the 
inconvenience  of 

" havino;  a  former  friend  for  foe." 


In  the  two  last  chapters  I  have  noticed  the  concluding 
incidents  of  the  reigns  of  the  last  two  kings  of  France.     Each 


114  THE    IRISH 

was  brought  to  a  premature  terminatiou,  yet  neither  could  have 
gone  on  for  another  year. 

This  is  not,  however,  the  time  nor  place  for  a  record  of 
the  events  of  the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe.  It  is  sufficient 
to  observe  that — feeling  his  way  cautiously — he  proceeded 
steadily  from  the  3d  August,  1830,  to  the  24:th  February, 
1848,  to  manifest  his  design  and  his  hope  to  turn  to  his  own 
and  his  family's  advantage  the  Republico-Bonapartean  Revo- 
lution, which  his  agents — without  committing  him  in  the 
intrigue  in  the  most  remote  degree — had  so  adroitly  concluded 
by  confen'ing  upon  him  the  kingdom  of  "  the  French."  La 
Fayette  and  Laffitte  acquiesced  in  this  magnificent  spoliation, 
it  is  true ;  but  they  soon  perceived  their  error,  and  openly  and 
to  the  last  moment  of  their  existence  lamented  and  "  begged 
pardon  of  their  countrii/'  for  it. 

Louis  Philippe  had,  in  fact,  scarcely  seized  the  reins  of 
government,  when  he  commenced  backing  the  machine.  A 
week  had  not  elapsed  from  his  nomination  ere  he  ordered  the 
removal  of  the  marks  of  the  conflict  which  had  resulted  in  his 
triumph.  Tins  yfA?,  trap  tot  2Mdi  trop  fort.  The  fighting  men 
in  the  late  Revolution  exclaimed  ''  what !  are  the  scars  of  our 
glorious  wounds  to  be  efi'aced  !"  and  this  time,  fearing  to  per- 
severe, the  command  was  recalled,  and  the  bullet  andcannonshot 
indentations  escaped  obliteration  for  the  moment.  He  respected 
the  admonition,  apprehending  a  relapse  of  the  people  into 
insurrection,  at  the  instant  too  when  the  ex-ministers  were 
about  being  brought  to  trial.  He  equally  and  for  the  same 
reason  adjourned  his  projected  ingratitude  to  La  Fayette  and 
Laffitte,  as  above  observed. 

Almost  coincidentally  with  his  attempt  to  destroy  the 
recollection  of  the  late  combats,  he  ventured  upon  his  fib"st 
coup  d'egoism.  He,  in  imitation  of  Napoleon,  created  an 
order  of  knighthood,  to  reward  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
insurgents.  The  decoration  of  this  order  was  a  cross  of  three 
points,  and  bore  this  inscription  : — ••  Donnee  par  le  Hoi." 
Against  this  inscription  the  decores  protested.  "  Given  by 
the  king!"  said  they;  '"'we  earned  it  without  having  him  in 
our  thoughts."  He  persisted,  however.  Several  of  the  recipients 
declined  wearing  it,  and  many  of  those  who  accepted  it,  found 
afterwards  that  it  pointed  them  out  for  persecution  as — Demo- 
crats I  The  students,  who  were  most  distinguished  in  the 
Revolution,  and  who  were  the  first  to  reject  this  cross,  animated 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  115 

by  patriutisin  did  good  service,  however,  in  the  course  of  the 
disorders  caused  by  the  trial  of  the  ex-miuisters. 

This  important  and  much-dreaded  event  took  place  in  the 
midst  of  indesjsribable  excitement.  It  had  been  found  neces- 
sary to  bring-  them  to  the  Palace  of  the  Luxembourg  (where 
the  trial  took  place)  from  Vincennes  by  night ;  and  it  required 
the  entire  force  of  the  Parisian  National  Guard  to  prevent  the 
storming  of  the  Palace  by  the  people,  during  their  trial,  and 
their  immediate  immolation.  They  were  found  guilty,  sen- 
tenced to  imprisonment  for  life,  and  carried  off  to  Vincennes 
by  a  coKp  de  main  and  reinstalled  in  its  famous  citadel. 

Scarcely  had  the  co-operation  of  La  Fayette  and  Laffitte 
thus  enabled  the  King  to  effect  this  noble  object,  when  he  con- 
trived to  disgust  them.  They  retired,  and  he  called  to  his 
council  others  less,  or  rather  not  at  all  liepublican  ;  thus  admit- 
ting that  he  had  been  forty  years  wrong  or  a  dissembler  in 
politics.  His  abjuration  of  Republicanism  was  soon  afterwards, 
early  in  1831,  completed,  by  his  removing  from  the  Palais 
Royal  to  the  chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  which  change  of  resi- 
dence he  had  long  desired,  but  feared  to  attempt  it.  Soult 
and  Casimir  Perier  considered  the  transit  to  be  safe,  and  it  was 
carried  into  effect. 

Louis  Philippe  was  already  unpopular  with  the  parties  he 
had  spent  fifteen  years  in  propitiating.  Six  months  had  hardly 
elapsed  since,  through  their  aid,  he  had  possessed  himself  of 
the  throne  of  his  relative  and  Sovereign,  when  we  find  him  up 
to  the  neck  in  reaction.  Men,  measures,  and  principles  all 
were  reversed,  or  were  all  directed  solely  for  the  concentration 
of  all  power  in  himself.  Was  it  for  this  that  the  Revolution 
had  been  made  ?  "Was  it  for  this  that  the  Repubhcans  and 
Bonapartists  had  permitted  him  to  be  nominated  to  the  sove- 
reignty by  a  body  which  the  legally  constituted  chief  of  the 
State  at  the  time  had  dissolved  ? 

Such  were  the  reflections  suggested  by  that  which  was  con- 
sidered the  apostacy  of  Louis  Philippe ;  but  those  who  uttered 
them  were  indisposed  to  plunge  the  country  into  a  new  strug- 
gle, or  they  calculated  (with  wonderful  sagacity,  it  turned  out) 
upon  the  effect  of  this  impolicy  upon  the  nation.  The  mass 
of  the  populace,  however,  were  blinded  to  the  reactionary 
course  of  Louis  Philippe  by  his  affectation  of  equality  at  the 
commencement  of  his  reign ;  and  when  subsequently  awoke  to 
a  sense  of  his  real  character,  it  was  too  late.     They  followed 


116  THE    IRISH 

the  Kiug  adinii'ingly  in  his  walks  through  the  streets  of  Paris, 
the  Queeu  (whom  he  spoke  of  as  ''ma  femme")  under  one 
arm,  and  a  huge  umbrella  hugged  closely  by  the  other.  They 
roused  him  from  his  dinner  almost  daily  to  hear  their  praises 
of  him,  and  their  professions  of  faith  in  his  Republicanism.  It 
was  a  sight  worth  paying  five-and-twenty  years  of  a  man's  life 
to  witness.  The  whole  court-yard  of  the  Palais  Royal  filled 
with  a  dense  mass  of  the  populace  and  the  bourgeoisie  singing 
at  the  top  of  their  voices  the  "  Parisieune,"  a  song  commemo- 
rative of  the  late  insurrection  and  revolution,  into  which  its 
author,  that  courtly  Republican  poet,  Casimir  Delavigne,  had 
adroitly  introduced  a  couplet  identifying  Louis  Philippe  with 
the  combatants  and  their  victory.  In  the  choras  of  this  song 
of  triumph,  and  in  that  of  its  elder  brother,  the  "  ]\Iarseillaise 
Hymn,"  with  which  the  serenade  invariably  concluded,  Louis 
Philippe,  ''his  wife,"  his  truly  beautiful  children,  his  staff, 
his  ministers  (La  Fayette,  Lafl&tte,  and  Casimir  Perierincluded), 
crowded  together  in  the  balconies,  joined  with  apparent  energy 
and  devotion. 

"  All  things  have  but  a  time,"  says  the  old  song.    "  Every- 
thing finishes  with  a  song,"  says  Beaumarchais. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

M''ake  not  a  sleeping  lion. 

ON  the  lyth  February,  1831,  certain  partisans  of  the  over- 
thrown Bourbons,  confiding  in  the  moderation  of  the 
people  who  had  really  efi"ected  the  Revolution,  and  which  had 
been  testified  in  a  manner  not  less  unexpected  than  creditable, 
and  further  encouraged  by  the  evident  hostility  of  Louis 
Philippe  to  Republicanism,  emeutes,  and  insurgents,  had  the 
audacity  to  attempt  the  celebration  in  the  church  of  St.  Ger- 
main I'Auxerrois,  of  a  religious  ceremony  in  memory  of  the 
Duke  of  Berry,  of  whose  assassination  by  Louvel  that  day  was 
the  anniversary.  An  alarm  was  given,  however,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  thousands  of  infuriated  democrats  of  all,  but  especially 
of  the  lower,  classes,  rushed  into  the  church  from  all  points, 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  117 

at  whose  aspect  the  Carlist  rjascons  took  to  their  heels.  Noi 
satisfied  with  dispersipg  the  devotees  aud  profauinp;  the  church, 
which  I  regret  to  say  they  did,  the  people  entered  the  court 
of  the  Louvre  opposite,  and  continuing-  their  march  arrived  in 
the  Carrousel  in  front  of  the  celebrated  triumphal  arch,  on  the 
four  sides  of  which  medallions  illustrative  of  passages' in  the 
life  of  Napoleon,  in  alto-rdievo,  had  formerly  figured.  These 
had  been  removed  in  complaisance  to  those  vei-y  persuasive 
persons,  Blucher,  and  other  foreign  soldiers,  in  1814,  and  had 
been,  twelve  years  afterwards,  replaced  by  as  many  other  mar- 
bles, portraying  the  military  achievements  of  the  Due  d'Angou- 
Icme  in  the  Spanish  campaign  of  1823.  The  arrival  of  the 
people  in  the  Carrousel  caused  terror  in  the  Chateau.  ("  The 
10th  of  August"  is  ever  present  to  its  occupants  for  the  time 
being.)  The  mob  soon  explained  the  object  of  their  visit,  and 
the  government  hastened  to  satisfy  them.  Workmen  with 
sledges,  pickaxes,  tomahawks,  hammers,  and  other  implements, 
mounted  on  ladders,  and  forthwith  commenced  demolishing 
(for  simple  removal  would  not  have  contented  the  applicants) 
those  memorials  of  the  Duke's  exploits.  As  the  hammer  or 
the  pickaxe  did  its  work,  a  suppressed  groan  of  satisfaction 
was  uttered ;  for  the  spectators  were  too  much  excited  and  too 
much  in  earnest  to  cheer.  One  of  the  workmen  seemed  to 
hesitate  when  he  had  commenced  the  destruction  of  a  fine 
figure  of  the  warrior.  Agj  exclamation  from  below  warned 
him  that  he  would  not  be  permitted  to  trifle. 

"  Ah  !  9a  vous  etes  faible  ?  Fort  bien  !  Nous  vous  aide- 
rons.    * 

The  hammer  was  no  longer  impotent  or  inactive.  The 
Duke's  head  was  knocked  from  his  shoulders,  and  the  whole 
of  the  tablets,  of  the  finest  material  and  execution  by  the  way, 
lay  in  a  few  minutes  at  the  base  of  the  arch  in  fragments. 

The  restoration  of  the  medallions  referring  to  the  Emperor 
was  then  demanded  and  promised ;  and  in  fact  they  were 
drawn  from  the  cellars  of  the  Tuileries,  in  which  they  had 
lain  for  sixteen  years,  and  replaced  in  their  original  positions, 
and  still  ornament  the  triumphal  arch  in  front  of  that  palace. 

The  dineute  did  not,  however,  end  here.  A  general  attack 
on  all  signs  and  inscriptions  and  ornaments  which   could  be 

*  "Ah !  your  strength  fails  you?     Very  well.     We'll  como  up  nnd  help 
you." 


118  THE    IRISH 

construed  into  a  Bourbon  signification,  was  made  tlirougliout 
Paris.     One  of  these  attacks  I  will  describe. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Place  des  Victoires  in  Paris,  is  a 
second  edition  of  an  equestrian  figure  of  Louis  XIV.,  erected 
during  the  Ilestoration.  The  low  iron  palisade  or  railing 
which  surrounds  it  was  at  that  time  surmounted  by  fleurs-de- 
lis  in  metal.  Upon  these  the  people,  on  the  loth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1831,  pounced  with  eagerness,  but  exhibited  some 
judgment.  They  skilfully  broke  off  with  hammers  the  scrolls 
attached  to  the  spikes  or  spearheads,  which  rendered  them 
lilies,  and  left  the  points  to  protect  the  monument. 

To  the  statue  of  Henri  IV.,  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  re-erected 
by  order  of  Louis  XVIII.,  the  indignant  public  next  directed 
their  attention.  They  repaired  thither,  and  demanded  its  in- 
stantaneous descent  and  destruction.  It  was  promised,  but 
successfully  evaded  in  consequence  of  a  statement,  true  or 
false,  made  on  the  spot  by  the  brass-founder  who  had  cast  it, 
and  who  now  implored  its  preservation.  After  dwelling  on 
the  respect  for  the  arts,  which  the  populace  of  Paris  are  per- 
suaded is  inherent  in  them,  and  which  so  recently  as  in  the 
Revolution  of  the  preceding  July,  had  been  successfully  ap- 
pealed to,  the  man  of  brass  said  :  "Do  not  remove  this  monu- 
ment.    It  is  well  executed." 

'•  Ah  !  bas  !"  cried  the  mob. 

"  Do  not  disturb  it,  or  you  Avill  destroy  one  of  the  most 
certain  means  of  transmitting  to  postei'ity  the  eflSgy  of  the 
Emperor." 

"Comment  qh,  farceur?" 

"  The  materials  for  it  are  of  honourable  origin.  They 
were  the  wrecks  of  the  bronze  monuments  to  Napoleon  and 
Desaix,  destroyed  in  1815." 

"Ehbien?" 

"  I  was  determined,  however,  that  the  Emperor  should  still 
survive  in  the  new  destination  given  to  the  broken  remains  of 
his  statue.  With  this  view,  when  about  to  cast  this  figure  of 
Henri  IV.,  I  enclosed  within  the  right  arm  an  equestrian 
figure  of  the  emperor  in  miniature,  who,  in  future  uges,  when 
this  statute  shall  in  its  turn  be  broken  up,  will,  like  the  phoe- 
nix, be  reproduced  and  live." 

This  couj)  de  iMdtre  saved  the  statue  of  Henri   IV.,  but 

{)roved  incontestably  the  affection  for  the  Emperor  which  still 
ived  in  the  memoi-y  of  the  people.     It  was  probably  one  of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  119 

those  clever  expedients  resorted  to  without  scruple,  in  dealing 
with  the  sovei'eign  people  in  France. 

Popular  memory  in  Paris  is  surprisingly  tenacious,  and  par- 
ticularly so  in  matters  connected  with  Napoleon.  In  addition 
to  the  "  little  account"  just  settled  between  the  Emperor  and 
the  Bourbons,  there  remained  a  small  item  to  be  liquidated. 
A  plain  bronze  tablet,  over  the  entrance  to  the  column  in  the 
Place  Yendome,  had  borne  the  following  inscription  : — 

"  Neapolio  Imp.  Aug.  Monumentum  Belli  Germanici. 
Anno  MDCCCV.  Trimestri  spatio,  ductu  suo,  profligati  ex 
xre  capto,  glorije  exercitus  maximi  decavit." 

On  the  eve  of  the  entry  of  the  Allies  into  Paris,  31st  of 
March,  1814,  this  inscription  was  covered  with  a  close  fitting- 
blank  plate,  also  of  bronze,  which  on  the  13th  of  February, 
1831,  still  eclipsed  it.  After  completing  the  destruction  of 
the  Angouleme  trophies  in  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  the  people 
repaired  to  the  column  in  the  Place  Vendome,  and  demanded 
and  obtained  the  removal  of  the  mask.  The  inscription 
thenceforward'  was  displayed  as  in  the  olden  time. 

If  this  were  not  sufficient  to  warn  Louis  Philippe  that  the 
public  entertained  other  feelings  than  of  regard  for  him  and 
his  family,  a  fresh  "flapper"  was  added,  which  ought  to  have 
entirely  awakened  him  to  a  sense  of  his  real  situation,  and 
induced  circumspection. 

In  1840  or  1841,  a  movement  took  place  in  the  Chamber, 
I  believe  to  procure  the  recall  of  the  banished  family  of  Bo- 
naparte. This  being  resisted  by  the  government,  produced 
an  outburst  of  feeling  for  the  memoiy  of  the  Emperor  which 
astonished  and  alarmed  the  King  and  his  Court.  Not  so 
much  so,  probably,  as  a  similar  appeal  (were  such  possible) 
would  have  done  in  favour  of  the  equally  proscribed  senior 
branch  of  the  Bourbons,  his  relatives,  still  it  was  sufficiently 
menacing  to  suggest  the  necessity  for  measures  to  crush  at  its 
outset  this  very  formidable  demonstration.  Into  the  move- 
ment the  people  without  doors  rushed  with  avidity,  and  then 
was  seen  to  blaze  up  fiercely  the  Bonapartism  which  had  so 
long  been  smouldering.  The  locality  in  which  it  was  dis- 
played was  the  Place  Vendome.  Every  projection  of  the  base 
of  the  column,  every  spear  of  the  palisading  that  surrounds 
it,  was  hung  with  garlands,  crowns,  and  wreaths  of  dried 
flowers  (immortelles)  in  memory  of  the  Emperor.  This  was 
wormwood  to   Louis    Philippe.     Then  came    rose-trees   and 


120  THE    IRISH 

flowering  shrubs,  with  which  the  space  between  the  railing 
and  the  cokimn  was  heaped.  The  lamp-posts  bore  hundreds 
of  labels  or  papers,  on  which  were  inscribed  in  manuscript, 
"Recall  the  family  of  the  hero!"  "Vive  I'Empereur !" 
"  Restore  his  eihgy  to  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honour. 
He  founded  it.     What  had  Henri  Quatre  to  do  with  it  ?"  &c. 

This  proceeding  attracted  vast  crowds  of  the  curious  to 
the  Place  Vendome,  and  the  tone  of  the  people  began  to  be 
threatening.  The  government  saw  that  the  excitement  must 
be  put  a  stop  to  if  a  Bonapartist  revolt,  perhaps  revolution, 
would  be  avoided,  and  therefore  consulted,  among  other  mili- 
tary authorities,  the  unsophisticated  but  illustrious  Command- 
ant of  the  Parisian  National  Guard,  Marshal  Count  Lobau  (a 
former  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor),  on  the  means  for  sup- 
pressing the  riot  and  dispersing  the  mob.  Among  the  first 
measures  submitted  to  him  was  one  to  have  the  rappel  beaten 
for  calling  out  the  National  Guard.  "  Leave  that  to  me," 
said  the  ci-devant  grocer. 

All  who  have  visited  Paris  know  that  there  is  situate  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  two  doors  from  the  Place  Vendome,  a 
barrack  of  sapeiirs  pompiers  (firemen).  To  that  establish- 
ment the  herculean  Marshal  Mouton  bent  his  steps,  traversing 
with  extreme  difiiculty  the  now  tumultuous  crowd  which  filled 
the  "  Place."  On  arriving  at  the  barrack,  he  ordered  :  "  Turn 
out  the  fire-engines.  Place  them  in  battery  where  the  Rues 
Neuve  des  Petits  Champs  and  Capucines  open  into  the  Rue 
de  la  Paix.  Fix  the  hose.  Fill  the  cisterns,  advance  au  pas, 
and  play  your  best  upon  those  gaillards." 

This  sino-ular  command  of  the  hero  of  the  "  lie  de  Lobau" 
was  executed  to  the  letter,  and  the  crowd  which  would  have 
stood  a  discharge  of  grape  fled,  roaring  with  laughter,  though 
dripping  wet  from  the  deluge  poured  upon  them  by  the  hila- 
rious firemen.  The  expedient,  unexampled  as  it  was  judicious, 
completely  succeeded.  In  an  instant  the  "  Place"  was  cleared. 
The  immortelles  and  the  arbvstes,  and  the  placards,  were 
carted  oiF  immediately  after,  and  thus  ended  a  demonstration 
which  had,  with  some  reason,  created  uneasiness  to  Louis 
Philippe  and  his  councillors. 

These  significant  hints,  of  which  many  similar  might  be 
quoted,  were  "  lost  upon  Maud.''  Indeed,  the  reign  of  Louis 
Philippe  was  full  of  them,  and  they  were  all  disregarded. 
Never  was  opfimisme  more  in\"CtPrate  than  his. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  121 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Promising  is  the  very  air  of  the  time  ;  it  opens  the  eyes  of  expectation  : 
performance  is  ever  the  duller  for  his  act.  To  promise  is  most  courtly  and 
fashionable :  performance  is  a  kind  of  will  or  testament  which  argues  a 
great  sickness  in  his  judgment  that  makes  it. 

Timon  of  Athena. 

TO  return  to  1831. 
Encouraged  and  sustained  by  the  counsel  of  Casimir 
P^rier  and  the  firmness  of  Soult,  the  former  having  by  that 
time  replaced  Laffitte  as  President  of  the  Council  of  Ministers, 
nominally,*  Louis  Philippe  assented  to  measures  proposed  for 
taking  down  the  spirit  of  ^'  the  schools"  and  the  populace, 
who  were  ever  harping  on  their  services  and  the  holiness  of 
insurrection.  "  The  schools,  (the  phrase  by  which  the  students 
of  the  schools  of  law  and  medicine,  and  of  the  renowned 
Ecole  Polytechnique  are  designated)  had  throughout  the 
Eestoration  given  unquestionable  proofs  of  their  hostility  to 
the  Bourbon  monarchy.  No  Sunday  or  Thursday  evening 
of  the  summer  passed  without  a  row  and  a  conflict  between 
them  and  the  gendarmes  stationed  at  the  celebrated  Chaumi- 
ere  on  the  Boulevard  de  Mont  Parnasse.  There  these  inge- 
nious youths,  to  the  number  of  many  hundreds,  assembled  in 
the  evenings  to  enjoy  with  a  corresponding  number  of  gri- 
seftes,  the  festive  dance  or  the  exhilarating  chance  of  being 
dashed  to  pieces  in  a  descent  from  the  Montagues  Russes. 
Besides  being  eminently  loyal,  the  gendarmes  were  not  only 
rigid  observers  of  decorum,  modesty,  and  correctness  in  their 
own  deportment,  but  were  the  causes  why  those  virtues  were 
to  be  found  in  other  men.  In  moments  of  vivacity,  innova- 
tions would  be  attempted  by  the  dancers.  The  shocked 
gendarme  would  then  interfere.  He  was  called  a  spy,  a 
77iouchrir{J,  a  (jvciix,  a  gredin,  for  his  pains.  Instead  of  re- 
plying he  would  seize  the  contumacious  student ;  upon  which 
the  word  would  fly  from  one  part  of  the  garden  to  the  other, 

*  "A  Council  of  Ministers  is  a  farce,"  said  a  Minister  of  the  Provisional 
Government  to  mo  one  day.     "  The  King  is  over  present,  nnd  the  Council 
is  a  monologue." 
6 


122  THE   IRISH 

when  scores  of  young  men  would  emerge  from  the  bosquets, 
and  rush  to  the  rescue.  By  this  time,  the  gendarmes,  dis- 
mounted for  the  nonce  (for  horse-soldiers  are  always  the 
guardians  of  public  morals  in  the  suburban  ball-rooms  of 
Paris),  had  drawn  their  sabres.  Another  cry  from  the  stu- 
dents, "  to  arms,"  when  a  conflict  would  take  place,  such  as  I 
once  witnessed  at  the  race-course  of  Doncaster,  where  thimhle- 
riggers  were  heartlessly  interraptcd  in  the  labours  of  their 
vocation  by  the  police.  These  worthies  unshipped  the  legs  of 
their  tripods,  and  converting  them  into  death-dealing  blud- 
geons, met  with  the  manliness  of  Britons  the  onslaught  of 
the  men  in  blue.  At  the  Chaumiore  the  proceeding  was  of 
the  same  kind.  In  a  moment  all  the  chairs  in  the  garden  of 
the  Chaumiere  would  be  broken  up,  and  a  real  down-right 
battle  would  ensue,  in  which  very  often  those  of  the  gendarmes 
capable  of  flight  would,  after  inflicting  ghastly  wounds  upon 
their  adversaries,  be  compelled  ingloriously  to  quit  the  field. 

In  these  places,  and  in  these  scenes,  the  Polytechnic  scholars 
never  figured.  They  were  grave,  staid,  sedate,  serious,  and 
reserved.  More  fixedly  Bonapartist  than  their  contemporaries 
of  the  schools  of  law  or  medicine,  and  living  secluded  from  the 
world,  their  recreation  was  the  study  of  the  wonders  performed 
by  the  Emperor  J  and  their  enjoyment,  the  recollection  of  the 
partiality  and  favour  he  had  displayed  for  their  corps  in  the 
Champ  de  Mai  of  1815,  as  it  was  termed,  but  which  had 
really  been  the  Champ  de  Juin.  Having  a  dignified  reputation 
to  support,  they  took  no  part  in  the  innumerable  fights  of  their 
brethren  of  law  and  physic  with  the  police  and  the  gendarmes 
during  the  Restoration,  but  were  nearly  moved  to  take  the 
field  upon  one  occasion — the  death  of  a  young  law  student 
in  an  engagement  with  the  gensdarmes  in  the  Hue  St.  Denis 
(in  1827,  I  think).  On  the  27th  of  July,  1830,  however, 
their  spirit  could  not  be  suppressed,  it  would  seem,  or  the 
governor  of  their  school  was  unwise  and  injudicious,  for  before 
the  close  of  that,  the  first  of  "  the  three  days,"  they  were 
dismissed  to  their  homes,  and  thus  literally  thrown  into  the 
insurrection. 

The  part  they  bore  in  that  important  affair  is  well  known. 
They  led  in  most  of  the  attacks  upon  the  military.  It  is 
generally  believed  that  a  considerable  number  of  them  fell  in 
the  insurrection,  but  one  only  of  them  was  killed — a  tale,  pale, 
serious-looking  young  man  of  one  or  two-and-twenty,  named 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  123 

Vanneau.  I  saw  him  sliot  off  his  horse  during  the  battle  in 
front  of  the  Swiss  barrack  in  the  Eixe  Plumct. 

This  affair,  which  concluded  the  Revohition  of  1830,  is 
generally  termed  the  Battle  of  the  Rue  de  Babylone.  The 
reason  is,  that  the  barrack  (garrisoned  by  the  Swiss  on  this 
occasion),  with  its  great  court,  occupies  the  entire  space  between 
the  two  streets  just  mentioned,  with  a  gate  and  a  superior 
building  over  it  in  each.  The  insurgent  force  attacked  both 
sides.  The  column  which  assailed  the  barrack  in  the  Rue 
de  Babylone  was  probably  the  stronger,  and  in  it  was  the 
late  Mr.  Daniel  O'Connor,  son  of  General  Arthur  O'Connor. 
The  party  which  attacked  on  the  side  of  the  Rue  Plumet, 
commanded  by  young  Vanneau,  succeeded  in  creating  a  panic 
in  the  little  garrison  (one  hundred  and  forty,  or  one  hundred 
and  fifty  Swiss  recruits),  and  caused  them  to  abandon  the 
barrack  in  feai'ful  disorder.  Vanneau,  who  had  been  induced 
to  mount  a  horse  belonging  to  the  major  of  the  Swiss,  found  in 
the  neighbourhood,  was  shot  in  front  of  the  barrack.  He  fell 
mortally  wounded,  and  was  carried  by  the  Rue  Traverse  to  the 
chapel  of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  in  the  Rue  de  Sevres. 
Thei'e  they  found  some  Sisters  of  Charity,  administering  to 
other  insui'gents  wounded,  and  who  had  been  similarly  carried 
thither. 

"  Sisters,  take  care  of  the  General !"  said  the  leader  of  the 
little  party.  "We  must  return  to  the  fight.  We  shall  come 
back  after  the  battle." 

The  engagement  did  not  last  long,  nor  was  it  very  mur- 
derous. The  moment  after  the  barrack  was  entered  by  the 
insurgents,  those  of  them  who  had  carried  the  wounded 
"  Polytechnique"  to  the  chapel  of  Saint  A'iucent  de  Paul, 
hastened  to  inquii'e  after  him. 

''  Alas  !  he  is  dead  I"  said  the  principal  sister.  "  He  never 
spoke  after  you  left." 

"  Then  all  that  remains  for  us  to  do  now,"  said  the  chief 
of  the  little  party,  ''  is  to  see  that  he  has  a  grand  mass  and  a 
respectable  funeral.     What  money  have  you,  comrades  ?" 

They  turned  out  the  contents  of  their  respective  purses :  it 
amounted  only  to  thirteen  francs  seventeen  sous. 

"  We  wish  it  were  more,  sister,"  said  the  simple,  brave,  and 
much  affected  poor  fellows.  "It  will  not  do  much,  but 
take  it." 


124  THE    IRISH 

They  then  knelt  clown,  uttered  a  prayer,  kissed  the  pallid 
cheek  of  their  late  chief,  and  departed. 

This  scene  took  place  five  minutes  after  the  termination  of 
a  mortal  combat,  in  which  the  actors  in  it'had  been  engaged. 

I  was,  with  the  late  Mr.  John  Murphy,  son  of  Mr.  William 
Murphy  of  Smithfield,  and  other  Irish  friends  (guests  of  the 
late  hospitable  and  most  excellent  Colonel  de  IMontmorency), 
an  eye-witness  of  the  occurrences  I  have  here  described.  The 
battle  was  scarcely  over  when  I  was  joined  by  another  young 
countryman,  just  arrived  from  Belgium,  whose  father,  after 
losing  an  arm  at  Vinegar  Hill,  had  served  as  captain,  and  died 
in  the  Irish  Legion.  All  fighting  being  at  an'end,  we  pro- 
ceeded to  visit  the  barrack.  Standino-  smokina;  a  German 
pipe,  and  leaning  lazily  against  the  half-opened  gate  of  a  house 
we  passed,  we  observed  a  man  whom  my  friend  recognised, 
and  thus  addressed  : — 

"Eh  bieu,  Maleski,  how  goes  it?" 

''  Quite  well,  sir.     And  you  ?" 

"  Comme  vous  voyez." 

''  And  Colonel  B.','  how  is  he  V 

"  Very  well.  But  this  poor  fellow,"  pointing  to  a  man  who 
had  received  a  wound  in  the  thigh,  and  who  had  been  placed 
against  the  wall  of  the  house  of  which  Maleski  was  the  porter, 
"  his  eyes  roll — he  is  dying  !" 

"  He  is  only  a  little  drunk.  I  have  just  given  him  a 
bottle  of  wine.  They  will  carry  him  to  the  ambulance  pre- 
sently." 

"■  Have  many  been  killed  ?" 

"  More  or  less." 

This  meant  "  a  few,"  and  was  uttered  with  indifi"erence 
ranounting  nearly  to  contempt,  by  him  who  had  fought  in  the 
French  ranks  from  the  year  1807  to  the  year  1815  inclusive, 
and  who  had  made  the  Russian,  Polish,  German,  Spanish,  and 
French  compaigns  of  the  Emperor,  during  the  last  four  years 
of  his  service  in  the  Irish  regiment. 

Besides  the  '' Polytechniques,"  the  students  of  law  and 
medicine  fought  everywhere  during  the  three  days,  and  lost 
many  of  their  number  in  the  conflict.  Among  them  a  young 
Irishman,  named  Fitzpatrick,  who  highly  distinguished  him- 
self. "The  schools"  became,  consequently,  the  idols  of  the 
Parisians,  of  the  lower  classes  especially,  and  were,  together 
with  the  "  Polytechniques,"   of  vast  service  during  the  trial 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  125 

of  the  ex-mi II istors  of  Charles  X.  in  cahiiing  the  eoogregated 
people.  Appearing  with  a  card  designating  their  particular 
school  in  their  hats,  they  soothed  the  agitation,  and  even  suc- 
ceeded in  converting  to  better  feelings  many  of  the  people 
who  tumultuously  demanded  the  heads  of  Polignac  and  his 
companions. 

Like  Laffitte  and  La  Fayette,  however,  their  mission  was 
held  by  Louis  Philippe  to  have  terminated  with  that  occasion. 
Symptoms  of  an  anti-civic  disposition  were  becoming  manifest 
in  the  king.  The  schools  expressed  in  acts  and  in  words  their 
disapprobation,  but  by  this  time  the  army  was  reorganized  and 
held  in  hand  by  that  very  competent  person,  Marshal  Soult, 
and  the  leading  part  of  the  public,  who  formed  the  principal 
portion  of  the  National  Guard,  were  becoming  weary  of  mobs 
and  ementes,  which  interrupted  their  business.  The  resolution 
of  the  King,  therefore,  to  face  and  break  his  first  lance  with 
the  students  was  not  so  hazardous  as  it  would  have  been  six 
months  earlier.  This  coup  d'essai  was  fixed  for  the  14th  of 
July,  1831,  the  anniversary  of  the  taking  of  the  Bastille  in 
1789,  on  which  day  the  schools  had  threatened  a  demon- 
stration. 

The  measures  of  government  were  so  well  taken,  however, 
that  no  formidable  body  of  malcontents  appeared.  A  small 
party,  at  the  head  of  which  was  a  young  medical  stvident, 
named  Desirabode,  son  of  a  well-known  dentist  of  that  name 
in  the  Palais  Royal,  repaired  to  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  there 
cut  down  a  sapling  of  which  to  form  a  tree  of  liberty,  which 
they  proposed  to  plant  in  some  public  situation.  In  this  ope- 
ration they  were  interrupted  by  a  pot-valiant  drummer  of  the 
National  Guard,  and  one  or  two  other  armed  citizens.  The 
students  disregarded  their  intervention ;  whereupon  the  drum- 
mer drew  his  sabre  and  inflicted  a  wound  with  it  upon  the 
head  of  the  leader,  young  Desirabode,  who  fell  covered  with 
blood,  and  was  subsequently  conveyed  to  a  hospital.  The  rest 
of  the  party  dispersed,  abandoning  the  tree  of  liberty. 

Louis  Philippe  must  have  been  delighted  at  this  termina- 
tion of  a  projected  appeal  to  the  people,  but  would  seem  to 
have  entertained  some  apprehension  for  the  consequence.  Ten 
days  after  the  occurrence  "Desirabode,  pere,"  was  named 
dentist  to  the  King. 

Many  similar  instances  of  the  King's  propitiatory  system, 


126  THE    IRISH 

whea  admonished,  might  be  mentioned,  but  one  more  may 
suffice. 

The  popuUiiity  of  that  splendid  cavalry  officer,  splendid 
alike  in  person  and  achievements,  General  Pajol,  who  had 
taken  an  active  part  in  the  Revolution,  suggested  to  His  Ma- 
jesty that  it  would  not  be  amiss  to  neutralize  him,  if  practi- 
cable, but  his  price  was  the  haton  of  a  marshal,  to  which  he 
was  eminently  entitled.  This,  however,  was  refused  him, 
through  the  influence  of  Soult,  it  was  believed.  As  a  means 
of  deprecating  his  hostility,  his  two  sons,  remarkably  fine 
young  men,  were  promoted  in  a  cuirassier  regiment — one  of 
them,  even,  was  appointed  aide-de-camp  to  the  Duke  of 
Orleans. 

After  Murat  and  Ney,  none  in  the  army  of  the  empire  had 
displayed  more  daring  intrepidity  than  Pajol.  Nearly  on  the 
same  line  marched  his  contemporary  in  age  and  in  achieve- 
ments, Excelmans.  Each  was  a  cavalry  officer  of  the  first  dis- 
tinction, and  each  was  among  the  last  who  sheathed  their 
swords  in  the  service  of  Napoleon.  To  Excelmans  the  Empe- 
ror remarked,  early  :  "  You  are  one  of  my  bravest  men."  To 
Pajol,  after  the  battle  of  Montereau,  he  said:  ''Had  all  my 
generals  done  their  duty  as  you  have  done,  the  foreigner  would 
never  have  set  his  foot  on  the  soil  of  France."  Both  Pajol 
and  Excelmans  made  the  campaign  of  Russia  in  1812.  They 
were  also  employed  in  the  engagements  of  Ligny  and  Quatre 
Bras,  in  June,  1815;  and,  by  a  further  coincidence,  were  in- 
cluded in  the  corps  of  Marshal  Grouchy,  and  consequently 
were  not  present  at  Waterloo.  Their  anti-Bourbon  disposi 
tions  were  recalled  and  manifested  in  1830.  While  a  propo- 
sition of  Charles  X.  was  under  consideration  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  on  the  2Sth  of  July,  1830,  Pajol  drew  his  sword  and 
said  he  would  pass  it  through  the  body  of  any  one  who  dared 
to  utter  the  word  "  compromise."  He  thus  contributed  to 
prevent  the  attempted  reconciliation  of  the  popular  party  with 
that  of  Chai'les  X.,  from  whom  a  deputation  had  arrived  with 
offers  of  submission  to  the  will  of  the  people.  Next  day,  he 
and  Excelmans  were  at  the  head  of  the  crowds  of  Parisians 
who  left  Paris  to  compel  Charles  X.  to  quit  St.  Cloud  and 
France. 

Both  Excelmans  and  Pajol,  after  a  thousand  hand-to-hand 
engagements  with  the  enemies  of  Napoleon,  died  of  the  most 
common-place  accidents.     Pajol,  although   not  reconciled  to 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  127 

Louis  Philippe,  accepted  aa  invitation  to  a  ball  at  the  Tuile- 
vies,  and  in  coming  down  stairs,  fell,  and  broke  his  thigh,  of 
which  accident  he  died.*  Excelmans,  who  had  been  raised, 
as  he  merited,  to  the  rank  of  Marshal,  was  very  lately  (in  the 
autumn  of  1852),  thrown  by  his  horse  and  killed  on  the  road 
to  Versailles. 

Claude  Pierre  Pajol !  Le  beau,  le  brave  !  The  hero  of  a 
thousand  hand-to-hand  encounters — from  Spires  in  1792  to 
Quatre  Bras  in  1815 — covered  with  wounds  more  numerous 
and  more  grave  than  those  received  by  any  man  in  the  French 
armies — Oudinot  excepted — and  after  having  had  in  the  course 
of  his  campaigns  sixteen  horses  killed  under  him,  falls  down 
stairs  and  dies  in  consequence !  Excelmans,  his  contemporary 
(Pajol,  the  favourite  of  Murat,  which  alone  would  stamp  him, 
and  he  were  respectively  born  in  1775),  after  a  similar  career, 
falls  from  his  horse  and  expires  on  the  road  to  Versailles, 
the  theatre  of  his  last  great  feat  of  arms  (on  the  1st  July, 
1815);  and  which,  but  for  the  treason  of  Fouche,  might  (a 
fact  not  generally  known)  have  proved  utterly  destructive  of 
the  allied  armies  then  marching  in  haste,  confidence,  and  dis- 
order upon  Paris. 

And  "such  was  the  end"  respectively  of  Pajol  and  Excel- 


mans I 


Th.it  they  who  many  a  day 


Had  faced  Napoleon's  foes  uutil  they  fled, 

should  perish  so  iugloriously,  suggests  our  special  wonder  and 
their  friends'  regret. 

I  may  be  here  admonished  that  they  were  not  Irishmen 
(I  wish  they  had  been).  IMy  reference  to  them  was  however 
irresistible,  following  upon  the  mention  of  Wall  and  Bugeaud, 
in  connexion  with  the  Revolutions  of  1830  and  1848.  The 
apropos  may  not  be  obvious,  but  as  the  digression  comprehended 
details  of  interest,  it  will  perhaps  be  pardoned. 

■■■■■  The  Parisians,  "who  will  have  their  humour"  turn  everything;  into  a 
c  ilcmboHi:  Upon  the  melancholy,  and  pen  d!stinfju>',  finish  of  Pajol's  bril- 
liant life  they  made  a  pun  which — oddly  enough — tells  better  in  English 
than  in  French — la  voiln.  '•  Cela  n'est  pas  le  bed  (la  halle)  qui  doit  avoir 
tu6  Pajol."     (That  is  not  tho  hall  which  ought  to  have  killed  Pajol.) 


128  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Qui  ne  vit  que  pour  soi  n'est  paa  digne  de  vivre. 


BOILEAU. 


HAVE  I.  in  the  preceding  chapters,  succeeded  in  excul- 
pating Wall  and  Bugeaud  from  the  charges  of  having  in 
any  respect  contributed  to  the  Revolutions  of  1830  and  1848  ? 
Have  I  clearly  shown,  that  in  the  one  case  the  blame  (if  there 
were  blame)  was  due  to  Marmont ;  and  in  the  other,  to  the 
fact  that  the  efforts  of  Bugeaud  were  paralyzed,  and  his  plans 
rendered  useless  by  the  order  given  to  the  King  to  discontinue 
resistance.  My  exculpation  of  those  generals  might  con- 
sistently terminate  my  reference  to  the  Revolutions  they  were;. 
respectively  called  upon  to  prevent ;  but  having  intimate  know- 
ledge of  the  causes  and  the  manner  of  those  great  events,  I 
may  possibly  be  permitted  briefly  to  explain  them. 

On  the  evening  of  the  27th  of  July,  1830,  in  company  with 
a  fellow-countryman,  I  was  passing  down  the  Rue  de  la  Paix. 
We  had  heard  that  there  had  been  some  skirmishing  in  seve- 
ral quarters  between  the  mob  (now  assuming  the  character  of 
insurgents)  and  the  gendarmes  and  parties  of  the  Garde  Roy- 
ale.  A  man  shot  through  the  forehead  was  in  the  afternoon 
carried  to  the  Bourse,  and  left  there  to  excite  the  people  to 
revolt,  an  object  soon  effected.  A  wooden  barrack  of  gendar- 
merie, placed  at  the  north-west  angle  of  the  Place  de  la 
Bourse,  was  attacked,  evacuated  by  its  garrison,  and  burnt  to 
the  ground.  A  woman  shot  through  the  body  was  carried  by 
a  baker's  journeyman  to  the  guard-house  of  the  Bank  of 
France,  and  deposited  in  front  of  it  "  to  show  the  people  and 
the  soldiers,"  as  he  said,  "the  manner  in  which  their  wives, 
sisters,  and  mothers  were  treated  by  the  Bourbons."  Stones 
had  been  thrown  at  the  windows  of  the  Ministry  for  Foreign 
Affairs, -then  inhabited  by  Prince  Polignac,  but  on  the  arrival 
of  a  battalion  of  the  Garde  Royale  with  two  field-pieces,  the 
insurgents  for  the  moment  dispersed. 

These  incidents,  all  of  which  occurred  early  in  the  evening, 
caused  much  agitation  in  our  quarter  of  the  city,  and  induced 
us  to  brave  any  danger  that  might  attend  the  indulgence  of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  129 

our  curiosity,  Avbich  had  been  increased  by  a  report  that  two 
regiments  of  the  line  then  actually  dra'wn  up  in  the  Place 
Vendorae  had  refused  to  fire  on  the  people. 

When  we  arrived  in  front  of  the  Stamp  Office,  we  heard 
shouting  in  the  Place  Vendome,  which  appeared  a  solid  mass 
of  men,  soldiers,  and  civilians.  We  could  plainly  distinguish 
above  the  murmur  of  the  multitude  those  significant  compli- 
ments, "  Vive  la  Ligne  !"*  A  distant  fire  of  musketry  was  now 
heard.  Immediately  afterwards  some  men  emerged  from  the 
Rue  Xcuve  dcs  Petits  Champs,  flying  apparently  from  some 
danger.  Then  came  General  Wall  with  his  staff,  and  a  small 
escort  of  Lancers  of  the  Royal  (iuard.  He  rode  at  full  trot 
into  the  Place  Vendome,  the  people  opening  right  and  left  to 
let  him  pass  to  the  Etat-Major  in  the  corner.  On  his  appear- 
ance he  was  saluted  by  the  crowd  with  new  cries  of  "  Vive  la 
Ligne  !"     The  soldiers  and  officers  remained  ominously  silent. 

On  inquiry,  we  learned  that  it  was  perfectly  true  that  the 
troops  of  the  line  had  refused  to  fire.  They  were,  technically 
speaking,  "standing  at  ease"  with  ordered  arms,  and  suffered 
rather  than  received  the  hugging  and  embracing  forced  upon 
them  by  the  people,  with  whom  they  not  yet — except  thus 
passively — fraternized.  The  officers  were  dejected  and  re- 
mained motionless. 

Having  followed  General  Wall  as  far  as  the  crowd  permit- 
ted, I  remarked  to  my  friend  that  he  appeared  discomposed. 

'•  Well  he  may,"  said  an  English  military-looking  man  who 
overheard  me,  for  in  times  like  these  no  ceremony  was  ob- 
served in  asking  or  in  telling  news.  "  Yonder  are  the  head- 
quarters of  the  army,  and  here  are  a  couple  of  thousand  men 
forming  part  of  that  army,  who  refuse  to  act  against  the  mob. 
General  Wall,  in  a  reconnaissance,  has  just  had  an  affair  with 
the  insurgents  in  the  Place  des  Victoires,  who,  after  losing  a 
few  of  their  number,  dispersed,  but  rallied  in  a  neighbouring 
street.  He  is  evidently  come  to  consult  with  Marmont  and 
Polignac,  who  it  is  supposed  have  arrived  at  the  Etat-Major  by 
a  subterraneous  pa^ssage  from  the  Tuileries.f     The  defection, 

s  "The  line  for  ever!"  This  cheer  had  for  its  object  to  draw  a  distinc- 
tion between  the  Regiments  of  the  Line  and  those  of  the  Garde  Royale. 
The  former  were  recruited  by  conscription,  and  might  be  said  to  represent 
the  whole  population;  the  latter  were  selected  by  the  Court,  as  well  for 
their  personal  superiority  as  for  their  political  sentiments.  Some  regiments 
of  the  Garde  were  said  to  be  almost  e.xclusively  Vendeans. 

■("  This  at  least  was  true  respecting  Polignac. 

6* 


130  THE    IRISH 

as  it  may  be  termed,  of  the  two  regiments  before  you  render 
tbis  matter  very  serious,  altbougb  at  present  tbe}''  refuse  to 
join  the  people.  Wall  may  well  appear  grave  and  pre-occupied, 
therefore.  To-morrow  will  be  a  fearful  day,  but  all  is  over  for 
to-day." 

This  was  confirmed  by  the  gradual  withdrawal  of  the  prin- 
cipal portion  of  the  crowd.  The  troops  remained  under  arms 
all  night. 

Before  parting,  my  friend  observed  :  "  When  these  absorb- 
ing events  shall  have  passed  by,  I  have  a  strange  story  to  tell 
you  of  the  brother  of  this  Greneral  Wall.  Remind  me  of  it. 
Good-night." 

Louis  Philippe's  want  of  energy  was  not  perhaps  the  result 
of  a  sudden  access  of  despair  or  terror,  but  of  his  sense  of 
incapability  to  repair  a  series  of  errors,  mistakes,  and  weak- 
nesses, followed  by  consequences  he  could  not  obviate,  without 
commencing  afresh  a  conflict,  in  which  his  advanced  age  and 
(it  must  be  confessed)  impaired  popularity  would  have  deprived 
laim  of  all  chance  of  success. 

The  causes  to  which  the  Revolution  of  1848  should  be 
attributed  are  many.  First,  the  unsubdued  and  undiminished 
Republicanism  and  Bonapartism  to  which  he  owed  his  elevation, 
and  which,  instead  of  soothing  and  conciliating,  he  had  con- 
firmed, and  even  exasperated  by  a  system  of  hostility  (some 
add  of  ingratitude),  commenced  within  a  week  from  his 
nomination  to  the  throne.  Secondly,  to  the  inspiration  of  his 
evil  genius — "  some  demon  whispered"  him,  and  he  attempted 
to  re-establish  the  Bourbon  name  and  sovereignty  in  all  its 
ancient  splendour  and  absolutism  !  Thirdly,  to  his  demanding 
of  the  nation  dotations  for  the  Dukes  of  Orleans  and  Nemours, 
while  he  was  in  the  annual  receipt,  it  was  alleged,  of  upwards 
of  thirty  millions  of  francs  (his  private  patrimony,  the  Civil 
List,  and  the  Woods  and  Forests).  Fourthly,  to  his  accepting 
for  his  fourth  son  the  heirship  to  the  property  of  "  the  last  of 
the  Condes,"  jointly  with  an  English  woman  of  very  bad 
repute  named  Dawes  (''Baroness  Feuch^res").  Fifthly,  his 
curtailment  of  the  prescriptive  right  of  the  public  to  the  garden 
of  the  Tuileries.     Sixthly,  to  the  Spanish  marriages*  (that 

*  The  secret  history  of  this  calamitous  affair  will,  ia  all  prohability, 
meet  the  public  eyo,  and  will  astonish  those  who  ascribed  to  Louis  Philippe 
statesmanlike  views  and  policy.  Other  actors  in  the  drama  may  appear, 
and  with  greater  disadvantage.     If  it  be  true,  as  I  have  heard,  that  but  for 


ABROAD   AND    AT    HOME.  131 

fatal  sug-gestion  of  his  amour  propre,  wliicli  suspended  the 
friendship  of  his  best  and  most  faithful  and  most  influential 
ally).  Seventhly,  to  the  enormous,  outrageous,  and  almost 
universal  corruption,  which,  in  the  latter  years  of  his  reign, 
pervaded  all  the  departments  of  government,  and  influenced 
every  public  contract  or  undertaking ;  without,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, his  participating  in  advantage  from  the  plunder  other- 
wise than,  as  he  flattered  himself,  by  the  support  of  those  in 
whose  rapacity  he  acquiesced.  Eighthly,  to  the  histories  of 
the  first  Revolution  by  MM.  Thiers  and  Louis  Blanc,  which 
led  to  impressions  favourable  to  the  ''  morality"  of  the  monsters 
Robespierre,  Dauton,  and  their  associates ;  and  to  "  the 
GiroHcUns"  of  M.  de  Lamartine,  which  also  bespoke  sympathy 
for  revolutionists ;  and  finally,  to  the  horrible  murder  of  the 
Duchess  of  Praslin  by  her  husband,  which  destroyed  every 
vestige  of  prestige  remaining  to  high  birth  and  aristocratic 
position.  Almost  immediately  upon  the  occurrence  of  that 
dreadful  tragedy  the  Revolution  took  place. 

Republicanism  and  Bonapartism  the  King  could  not  have 
extinguished,  but  a  wise  system  of  government  would  have 
obviated  the  evil  to  be  apprehended  from  them.  Family  pride 
was  excusable  in  a  man  so  descended,  but  was  unwisely  mani- 
fested. The  dotation  for  the  Duke  of  Orleans  (£80,000  per 
annum)  was  perhaps  too  large  in  any  circumstances,  but  was 
rendered  more  striking  by  the  application  for  one  of  half  that 
amount  for  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  which  was  refused.  That 
the  Duke  of  Bourbon  should  have  bequeathed  a  moiety  of  his 
fortune  to  the  Due  d'Aumale  was  perfectly  natural,  but  it  was 
injuriously  afiiected  by  the  association  of  that  young  Prince's 
name  with  that  of  a  person  whose  position  in  the  house  of  the 
Due  de  Bourbon  was  deemed  something  worse  than  equivocal 
— and  this  view  of  the  afiair  was  made  more  striking  by  the 
refusal  of  her  husband,  General  Baron  Feuch^res  (to  whom 
it  devolved  on  her  death),  to  touch  a  shilling  of  her  share  of 
the  Duke  of  Bourbon's  fortune.  The  portion  of  the  garden 
of  the  Tuileries,  enclosed  under  pretext  of  forming  a  private 
garden  for  the  King,  was  selected  simply  to  form  an  outwork 
to  the  palace,  to  protect  it  against  a  couj^  de  main  in  case  of 

these  marriages  the  Revolution  of  1S4S  would  not  have  occurred,  the  world 
will  be  astounded  by  the  nature  of  the  intrigue,  through  which  the  loss  of 
a  throne,  and'  the  plunging  of  some  of  the  fairest  portions  of  Europe  into 
civil  war  and  anarchy,  were  efTected. 


132  THE    IRISH 

insurrection.  The  Spanish  marriages  he  ventured  on  with  the 
full  knowledge  that  England  would  protest  against  them ;  but 
he  relied  upon  his  talent  for  conciliation  and  cajolery  to  obtain 
her  ultimate  assent  to  them.  The  coriiiption  which  grew  up 
during  his  reign  he  must  have  lamented,  but  was  unable  to 
put  a  stop  to  and  prohibit  it.  The  consideration  for  the  re- 
publicans of  the  first  Revolution,  suggested  by  the  works  of 
MM.  Thiers  and  Lamartine,  he  deplored  and  feared.  Finally, 
it  is  hardly  necessai-y  to  say,  that  in  no  respect  ought  the 
tragedy  at  the  Hotel  Praslin  to  be  visited  upon  Louis  Philippe, 
who  was  the  pattern  family  man  of  France.  Nothing  can 
save  him,  however,  from  the  unfavourable  verdict  of  posterity 
whenever  a  claim  to  the  character  of  wisdom,  foresight,  and 
sound  policy  be  set  up  for  him.  His  concurrence  in  the  efforts 
made  to  rescue  from  popular  fury  Prince  Polignac*  and  his  col- 
leagues must  ever  redound  to  his  honour,  although  accompa- 
nied by  the  recollection  that  he  would  have  earlier  spurned 
the  two  aids  by  which  only  he  could  have  mounted  to  the 
throne.  La  Fayette  and  Laffitte,  had  their  assistance  in  his 
humane  project  for  saving  the  lives  of  the  ministers  of  Charles 
X.,  not  been  indispensable. 

*  Behold  a  coincidence.  Prince  Polignac  was  twice  indebted  for  his 
life  to  the  clemency  of  sovereigns  of  whom  he  had  been  the  unmitigated 
enemy.  The  mercy  extended  to  him  by  Napoleon  was,  however,  much 
more  remarkable  than  the  compassionate  interference  of  Louis  Philippe  in 
his  favour;  for  the  former,  as  was  so  unfortunately  proved  in  the  ease  of 
the  Due  d'Enghien,  was  still  agitated  by  the  unworthy  and  unmanly  con- 
spiracy against  his  life,  in  which  Prince  Polignac  was  so  undeniably  com- 
promised. Was  it  compunction  for  his  unjust  cruelty  to  the  Due  d'Enghien 
that  induced  Napoleon  to  pardon  Prince  Polignac  ? 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  133 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

But  these  are  deeds  which  should  not  pass  away, 

And  names  that  must  not  wither,  though  the  earth 

Forgets  her  empires  with  a  just  decay  ; 

The  enslavers  and  enslaved,  their  death  and  birth. 

The  high — the  mountain  majesty  of  worth 

Should  be,  and  shall,  survivor  of  its  woe. 

And  from  its  immortality  look  forth 

In  the  sun's  face,  like  yonder  Alpine  snow, 

Imperishably  pure — beyond  all  things  below. 

Byron. 

IT  will  have  been  already  seen  that  I  am  an  observer  of  co- 
incidences. Among  the  many  eminent  men  whom  I  follow 
in  that  propensity  was  the  Emperor,  Napoleon  the  First. 

"It  is  strange,"  said  he,  as  he  entered  the  city  of  Vienna 
on  the  12th  May,  1809,  "  that  on  each  occasion — in  Novem- 
ber, 1805,  as  on  this  day — on  arriving  in  the  Austrian  capital, 
I  find  myself  in  treaty  and  in  intercourse  with  the  respectable 
General  O'Reilly." 

The  reader  must  not  smile.  The  individual  thus  distin- 
guished was  not  the 

"General  Count  O'Beilly" 

damned  to  immortal  fame  by  the  sarcastic  Byron.  The  Gene- 
ral Count  O'Reilly  of  the  poet,  was  Alexander  O'Reilly,  the 
favourite  of  King  Charles  III.  of  Spain,  whose  life  he  saved 
in  a  riot  in  Madrid  in  1765.  He  further  enjoyed,  it  was  said, 
high  favour  in  the  eyes  of  His  Majesty's  royal  consort.  The 
fruits  of  this  distinction  were  the  highest  rank  in  the  Spanish 
army,  of  which,  besides  being  Governor  of  Cadiz,  he  was  named 
generalissimo.  He  had  also  had  the  honour  of  being  appointed 
Ambassador  to  the  French  Court.  On  his  presentation  to  the 
beautiful  and  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette,  it  would  appear 
that  he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment  an  autograph  letter 
from  his  royal  mistress  to  the  French  Queen.  With  an  em- 
barrassed and  hurried  air,  which  excited  merriment  in  the 
gay  and  silly  circle  within  which  he  found  himself,  he  how- 


134  THE    HUSH 

ever  searched  for  it,  and  finding  it,  presented  the  missive. 
This  incident  was  thus  described  by  an  English  wag  of  the 
day:— 

"  '  I  have  it  here/  said  the  Sieur  O'Reilly,  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  breeches  pocket." 

But  the  badinage  of  even  the  immortal  Byron  (on  all  seri- 
ous matters  the  advocate  of  Ireland,  as  he  was  the  devoted 
friend  of  her  immortal  son,  Moore)  cannot  deprive  this  dis- 
tinguished Irishman  of  well-earned  reputation  for  courage  and 
skill  in  the  oi'ganization  of  the  Spanish  forces,  and  for  sagacity 
and  decision.  Unhappily,  however,  among  other  results  of 
the  royal  favours  heaped  upon  him,  was  the  jealousy  of  native- 
born  officers  of  the  army.  To  this  sentiment  was  due  the 
defeat  of  the  expedition  under  his  command  against  Algiers, 
which  he  would  probably  have  "  taken,"  but  for  the  impru- 
dence and  disobedience  of  the  Marquis  de  Romana,  who,  in 
order  to  distinguish  himself,  and  at  the  same  time  to  discredit 
the  cautious  policy  of  O'Beilly,  rushed  forward  prematurely 
and  rashly,  and  caused  the  failure  of  the  enterprise.  O'Reilly 
was,  therefore,  no  more  chargeable  with  the  defeat  of  the 
Spanish  expedition  to  Algiers,  than  was  Hoche  for  that  of 
the  French  to  Ireland.  Romana,  who  brought  about  the  dis- 
aster to  the  Spanish  army,  paid  with  his  life  for  his  fault ;  but 
Grouchy,  whose  non-arrival  in  Bantry  Bay  deprived  France 
of  the  most  important  advantage  that  could  have  resulted  from 
the  war,  and  saved  England  from  the  greatest  disaster  that  could 
have  befallen  her,  lived — strangest  of  coincidences ! — to  repeat 
his  default,  and  so  to  deprive  France  of  the  only  chance  that 
remained  to  her  of  changing  the  fate  of  the  battle  of  Water- 
loo; and,  consequently,  of  saving  from  utter  destruction  the 
British  army. 

It  would  require  the  brilliant  services — the  intrepidity  and 
the  humanity — of  Grouchy,  in  La  Vendee,  in  Italy,  in  Russia, 
in  Germany,  and  finally  at  Ligny,  on  the  16th  June,  1815,  to 
save  his  name  from  execration  in  France.  He  was  only  un- 
fortunate. 

A  French  biography  of  General  O'Reilly  describes  the 
affair  in  pretty  nearly  the  same  terms,  but  ascribes  rather  to 
the  irrepressible  ardour  of  the  Spanish  troops  than  to  the  mo- 
tive here  assigned,  the  precipitancy  of  Romana.  My  version 
of  the  story  was  derived  from  Chevalier  0' Gorman  fifty  years 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME,  135 

ago,    to  whom   it   was    communicated   by    General    O'Reilly 
himself. 

It  would  appear  that  the  financial  department  of  Spain  was 
not  better  managed  in  the  last  than  in  the  present  century. 
Plunder  and  corruption  were  said  to  be  the  universal  pi-actice 
of  all  concerned  in  the  collection  of  the  revenue,  but  especially 
in  Cadiz,  at  the  period  of  Count  O'Reilly's  arrival  there  as 
Governor.  In  consequence,  he  assembled  those  functionai-ies 
at  an  early  day,  and  thus  addres.sed  them  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  am 
a  man  of  few  words.  Whether  I  be  a  robber  or  not,  I  shall 
not  here  discuss  ;  but,  mark  me  well,  I  shall  allow  no  man  to 
rob  the  public  treasury  but  myself." 

The  death  of  his  royal  patron,  Charles  III.,  on  the  14th 
of  December,  1788,  caused  O'Reilly  the  loss  of  his  command 
of  Andalusia,  and  the  governorship  of  Cadiz,  and  indeed  of 
all  his  employments.  He  returned  therefore  to  Catalonia, 
where  he  lived  a  retired  life  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  Avar 
between  Spain  and  revolutionary  France,  when,  his  militaiy 
renown  remaining  undiminished,  he  was,  on  the  death  of  its 
chief,  Ricardo,  in  1794,  called  to  the  command  of  the  army 
of  the  Pyrenees.  He  arrived  at  head-quarters,  but  died  sud- 
denly, almost  immediately  afterwards,  the  victim  of  foul  play — 
he  was  poisoned. 

The  French  author  I  quote  adds  :  '■'■  O'Reilly's  talents  as  a 
general,  the  various  services  he  had  rendered  to  Spain,  and 
his  personal  qualities,  effaced  almost  entirely  from  the  hearts 
of  the  Spaniards  the  jealousy  they  had  conceived  of  him  as  a 
foreigner." 

Let  us  now  speak  of  the  Austrian  General  Count  O'Reilly, 
termed  by  Napoleon  "  the  respectable."  His  Christian  name 
was  Andrew,  and  ho  was  a  son  of  the  house  of  Ballinlough, 
in  the  county  of  Westmeath,  Ireland.  The  compliment  paid 
him  by  Napoleon  was  the  more  remarkable,  because,  as  is  uni- 
versally known,  it  was  "  the  dragoon  regiment  of  O'Reilly" 
(fes  Troisieme  Chcvaux  Lrger)  which  by  a  splendid  charge 
saved  the  wreck  of  the  Austrian  army  at  Austerlitz ;  but  Na 
poleon  was  generally  liberal  to  all  brave  men,  friends  or  foes. 

The  coincidence  remarked  by  Napoleon  respecting  General 
O'Reilly  is  only  one  of  the  many  recorded  of  the  Emperor,  who, 
to  serve  his  purpose,  frequently  created  them  in  advance.  For 
example — his  fighting  the  battle  of  Friedlaud  in  1807,  and 
his  commencement  of  liis  last  campaign  in  1815,  on  the  14th 


136  THE    IRISH 

of  June  respectively,  on  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Ma- 
rengo, were  not  entirely  accidental,  any  more  than  was  the 
battle  of  Austerlitz,  on  the  2d  of  December,  1805,  which  was 
the  anniversary  of  his  coronation. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

It  is  a  miserable  effect,  when  men  full  of  towardness  and  hope — such  as 
the  poets  call  Aurorce  Filii — sons  of  the  morning — in  whom  the  expecta- 
tion and  comfort  of  their  friends  consisteth,  shall  be  cast  away  and  destroyed 
in  such  a  vain  manner. 

Bacon  ( On  Duelling). 

&ENERAL  WALL,  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken,  was  the 
last  of  the  Irish  Brigade  who  drew  a  sword  in  defence  of 
the  elder  branch  of  the  House  of  Bourbon.*  He  and  his 
brother.  Viscount  Wall,  and  "the  Dillons,"  and  other  Irish- 
men, or  Irish  by  descent,  were  the  most  brilliant  of  the  body 
of  men,  of  handsome  exterior,  and  of  courage,  gallantry,  and 
high  breeding,  who  shone  at  the  dazzling  Court  of  IMarie 
Antoinette  and  Louis  XVI.  I  have  a  perfect  recollection  of 
the  pride  with  which  our  Cousin  Robin  spoke  of  them.  Vis- 
count Wall  died  mysteriously,  an  event  which  caused  much 
sensation  at  the  time ;  but  the  Revolution  was  approaching, 
and  soon  caused  the  tragedy  to  be  forgotten.  The  following 
is  the  account  given  of  the  affair  by  Cousin  Robin  : — 

"  Wall  was  one  of  the  bravest  of  men.  One  day  he  de- 
sired his  valet-de-chambre  to  put  up  the  articles  of  dress  and 
toilette  necessary  for  a  short  absence  from  Paris,  and  to  order 
his  carriage  for  an  early  hour  next  morning.  At  the  time 
indicated,  the  post-chaise  was  at  the  door.  He  told  his  wife 
that  he  should  be  absent  only  a  day  or  two,  and  stepping  into 
the  carriage  desired  the  postillion  to  drive  to  Fontainebleau. 

"■  Having  arrived  there,  he  repaired  to  the  Hotel  de  Tu- 
renne,  where  he  was  well  known,  ordered  dinner,  and  taking 
his  sword  in  his  hand  said  he  would  stroll  into  the  forest,  but 

■•■■■  There  was  in  the  battalion  of  the  Garde  Royale  which  fought  in  Paris 
during  this  Revolution,  a  Captain  Wall,  but  I  believe  they  were  not  related. 
Captain  Wall — an  excellent  man  and  oflScer — had  not  served  in  the  Brigade. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  137 

would  be  back  in  an  hour  or  two.  It  was  then  about  four 
o'clock. 

''  He  did  uot  return  to  dinner,  nor  that  uight,  a  circum- 
stance which  caused  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel,  who  loved 
and  respected  him,  much  alarm,  and  induced  him  next  morn- 
ing to  acquaint  the  authorities  of  the  town  with  the  facts. 
He  also  apprised  some  friends  of  Wall,  officers  of  the  garrison, 
of  his  disappearance.  A  large  party  in  consequence  set  off 
for  the  forest  in  the  direction  that  Wall  had  taken,  and  there 
dispersed.  For  a  considerable  time  their  search  was  fruitless, 
but  at  length  in  a  remote  and  unfrequented  part  of  the  forest 
they  found  the  dead  body  of  Wall,  nearly  covered  by  a  drift 
of  fallen  leaves.  He  had  been  run  through  the  body.  His 
sword  lay  by  his  side ;  his  purse,  filled  with  money,  was  in  his 
pocket ;  his  watch  in  his  fob.  The  body  was  removed  to  the 
hotel,  and  thence  to  Paris. 

"  This  melancholy  afiair  became  the  topic  of  conversation 
at  Court,  in  the  salojis,  and  other  assemblies  of  high  life.  In 
one  of  them  a  friend  of  Wall,  an  Irishman  of  distinction, 
repelled  the  idea  that  he  had  fallen  in  a  duel.  '  Wall,'  said 
he,  '  was  not  surpassed  as  a  swordsman :  he  could  not  have 
met  a  superior.     He  was  basely  murdered.' 

''  Next  morning  this  person  received  a  letter  by  the  petite 
poste,  couched  in  these  terms  : — 

"  '  You  stated  last  night  that  Wall  was  assassinated.  It 
is  false.  If  you  be  a  man  of  honour,  and  willing  to  have  sat- 
isfaction for  this  imputation  on  your  veracity,  and  at  the  same 
time  avenge  your  friend,  repair,  alone,  on  Monday  next,  be- 
tween the  hours  of  two  and  four  o'clock,  to  the  Forest  of 
Fontainebleau,  route '  (naming  it).  '  You  will,  at  a  cer- 
tain point'  (indicating  it),  '  find  a  person  in  a  blue  surtout, 
who  on  your  approach  will  take  out  a  pocket-handkerchief  and 
put  it  to  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  will  then  strike  into  a 
path  leading  to  a  fit  and  proper  spot  for  the  decision  of  our 
quarrel.' 

'<  This  letter  was  signed,  '  He  by  whose  hand  Wall  fell.'  " 

In  England,  probably  no  notice  would  have  been  taken  of 
a  challenge  of  tliis  kind,  coming,  as  it  did,  anonymously;  but 
at  the  period  of  which  I  speak,  persons  observant  of  the  code 
of  honour  were  more  fastidious. 

"The  challenged  person,"  continued  Cousin  Robin,  '-'sent 


138  THE   IRISH 

immediatelv  for  a  friend,  the  gallant,  unfortunate  Theobald 
Dillon. 

'•  '  You  cannot  refuse  this  cartel/  said  Dillon,  '  but  I  do 
not  like  the  look  of  it.  Why  require  you  to  be  unaccompa- 
nied by  a  friend  ?  It  suggests  strongly  the  idea  of  an  ambush. 
You  must  keep  the  rendezvous,  however,  but  I  shall  be  at 
hand  to  aid  you,  should  (as  I  fear)  foul  play  be  intended  and 
offered  to  you.' 

''  On  the  day  appointed.  Dillon  and  his  principal  repaired 
to  Fontainebleau.  When  the  hour  fixed  drew  near,  they 
walked  into  the  forest  in  the  direction  of  the  point  named  for 
the  meetius-  Ou  their  arrival  near  to  a  turning  which  led 
immediately  to  it,  Dillon  stopped. 

"  '  I  can  go  no  farther,'  said  he,  '  but  if  you  perceive  any- 
thing suspicious  in  the  manner  or  conduct  of  your  antagonist, 
call  out,  and  I  shall  be  with  you  in  a  few  seconds.' 

"  After  shaking  hands,  the  friends  separated.  Dillon  re- 
tired, and  the  challenged  party  proceeded.  On  turning  the 
comer,  before  arriving  at  which  DtUon  had  stopped,  he  per- 
ceived at  a  distance  a  man  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
towards  whom  he  walked  directly.  When  he  had  come  within 
forty  or  fifty  yards  of  him,  the  stnmger  took  out  his  handker- 
chief, raised  his  hand,  and  pointed  to  a  path  at  one  side,  into 
which  he  struck  at  a  quick  pace.  His  adversary  followed. 
Another  turn  was  made  by  the  leader,  and  another  path  was 
chosen.  This  was  also  abandonad  for  another,  more  intricate 
and  scarcely  marked.  It  led  to  the  Rocher  Brule,  one  of  the 
most  deserted  parts  of  the  forest.  The  leader  made  another 
sharp  turn.  The  Irishman,  now  nearly  at  his  heels,  made  a 
similar  movement.  He  had  not,  however,  advanced  three 
steps  in  this  new  direction  when  he  found  his  collar  seized  by 
a  visorous  hand.  He  turned  to  reeard  the  assailant — it  was 
Dillon.  An  exclamation  escaped  him.  This  induced  his 
enemy  to  look  back,  who,  seeing  how  matters  stood,  shook  his 
head,  waved  his  hand,  and  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

"'Whvdid  vou  interrupt  me?'  asked  the  Irishman  of 
DiUon. 

'•  •  To  save  you  from  the  fate  of  Wall.  This  man  is  obvi- 
ously an  assassin.  Your  character  hitherto  will  secure  you 
from  any  reflection  on  your  courage.  Moreover,  I  am  living 
to  testify  to  it.     This  affair  must  go  no  farther.' 

'•  The  friends  returned  to  Fontainebleau  and  to  Paris  nest 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  139 

dt'v.  For  some  time  afterwards  the  occurrence  continued  to 
be  the  subject  of  comment  and  conversation  in  the  salons,  but 
political  questions  soon  threw  it  into  oblivion,  and  from  that 
time  until  the  present  moment  (now  three  years  and  upwards), 
I  do  not  think  that  I  have  once  spoken  of  it."' 

This  story  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  hearers.  I  had 
not  forgotten  it  even  when,  thirty  years  later,  it  was  brought 
to  my  recollection  by  an  incidental  occurrence,  and  the  cloud 
which  rested  upon  the  death  of  Viscount  Wall  up  to  that 
time,  was — quant  a  moi  at  least — dissipated. 

One  day,  in  the  autumn  of  1822,  I  met  in  the  g-arden  of 
the  Tuileries  an  Irish  friend,  who,  after  the  customary  saluta- 
tions, said  :  "  Do  you  observe  the  old  gentleman  iVom  whom  I 
have  just  parted  ?  He  has  been  a  man  of  distinction ;  one  of 
those  who  fluttered  and  figiired  on  this  identical  spot,  the 
Tuileries,  five-and-thirty  years  ago,  when  Marie  Antoinette 
was  in  her  zenith.  He  has  just  recounted  to  me  an  anecdote, 
which  seems  to  remove  the  mystery  that  has  hitherto  enveloped 
the  death  of  Tiscount  Wall,  who,  you  know,  was  found  dead 
in  the  Forest  of  Fontainebleau,  in  the  year  1787.  The  anec- 
dote he  has  told  me  is  this  : — 

'' '  I  was.'  said  he,  '  one  of  many  others  who  were  forced 
to  emigrate  in  1792,  and  succeeded  in  getting  on  board  an 
English  vessel,  on  the  coast  of  Brittany.  On  our  passage  to 
England,  I  found  myself  one  day  leaning  over  the  ship's  side, 
at  the  elbow  of  a  person  whom  I  had  long  known  by  sight,  and 
had  met  in  society,  but  with  whom  I  had  no  acquaintance. 
Our  conversation  dwelt  at  first  upon  the  present  melancholy 
state  of  France.  It  was  subsequently  turned  to  the  scenes  in 
which  we  had  both  mixed  in  Paris,  at  Court,  at  Versailles,  and 
at  Trianon.  In  the  course  of  those  recollections  the  name  of 
AVall  accidentally  occurred. 

"  '  His  death  was  a  strange  afi"air,'  said  I. 

'^ '  Not  so  strange  as  probably  you  believe,'  he  replied. 

'' '  "What  is  your  opinion  of  it  ?'  I  asked.  '  It  was  by 
assassination — was  it  not  ?' 

"  *  No  such  matter.' 

'' '  Everybody  regarded  it  so  at  the  time.' 

"  '  I  am  aware  of  that ;  but  it  was  an  error.  Before,  how- 
ever, I  enter  on  the  task  of  disabusing  you  on  the  subject, 
will  you  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me  all  that  you  know  and 
have  heard  respecting  it  ?' 


140  THE    IRISH 

"  I  complied,  recounting  the  circumstance  as  I  had  heard 
it  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence. 

"  '■  And  these,'  said  he,  '■  are  the  facts  on  which  j^ou  found 
your  belief  that  Wall  was  murdered  ?  And  that  the  challenger 
of  the  Irishman  you  speak  of  was  his  assassin  ?'  said  my  fellow 
ti'aveller. 

'' '  Even  so.' 

"  '  Then  you  mistake.  "Wall  was  not  murdered,  nor  was 
the  challenger  of  Dillon's  friend  an  assassin.  The  facts  are 
these.  Wall  was  most  unjustly  jealous  of  his  wife.  He 
named  a  man  as  her  paramour,  who,  becoming  aware  of  the 
imputation,  challenged  him.  They  fought,  and  Wall  fell — 
fairly,  however.' 

"  To  this  statement  were  added  expressions  and  particulars, 
which  convinced  me  that  my  companion  was  the  party  of  whom 
Wall  had  been  jealous,  and  by  whose  hand  he  fell.  He  was 
subsequently  the  challenger  of  Dillon's  friend. 

"  '  You  knew  afterwards  who  this  person  was,  whom  you 
supposed,  rightly  or  wrongly,  to  have  been  the  adversary  of 
Wall,'  I  observed. 

"  '  I  did.     He  was  Count de  Damas.'  " 

These  facts  have  never  before  been  published. 

M.  and  Mme.  de  Rohan  have  had  the  following  inscription 
engraved  upon  the  tomb  of  the  Viscount  de  Wall : — 

"  TO  THE   MERCIFUL  AND  JUST  GOD. 

HERE  LIES  , 

MABIE    JOSEPH    RICHARD    PATRICK,    VISCOUNT    DE    WALL, 

DECEASED  AT  THE  AGE  OF  23  YEARS,  NOV.  26tH,  1787. 

INNOCENT  VICTIM  ! 

HE  SOUGHT  NOT  TO  BE  REVENGED. 

HE  WHO  IS,  HAS  SAID  '  VENGEANCE  IS  MINE.' 

Deut.  chap,  x.xxii.  v.  35. 

'•■  Powerful  God  !  only  true  support  of  afBicted  hearts  !  In  remitting  to 
Thee  the  vengeance  of  this  innocent  victim,  in  finishing  the  recital  of  the 
circumstances  and  consequences  of  his  unhappy  end,  hear  our  prayers  for 
the  cruel  being  who  has  thus  plunged  us  into  grief.  Permit  that  his 
remorse  may  excite  his  repentance  !  He  cannot  repair  the  evil  he  has  done 
to  us,  but  he  may  have  recourse  to  Thee,  and  experience  the  effects  of  Thy 
infinite  mercy." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  141 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

And,  thereupon,  the  Court  did,  by  their  several  opinions  and  sentences, 
declare  how  much  it  imported  the  peace  and  prosperous  estate  of  his 
JIajestj'  and  his  kingdom,  to  nip  this  practice  and  offence  of  duels  in  the 
head,  which  now  did  overspread  and  grow  universal,  even  among  mean 
persons. 

Bacon. 

I  HAVE  just  spoken  of  "Wall's  "  exeelleuce  at  his  weapon," 
the  sword ;  but  among  his  own  countrymen  at  that  period, 
were  to  be  found  many  of  as  high  reputation  as  himself  as 
fencers  and  duellists.  Of  one  of  them,  George  Robert  Fitz- 
gerald, I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  presently;  another  was 
"  Dick  Martin ;"  another  was  Count  Rice,  with  whose  brother, 
Dominick,  a  barrister,  I  became  acquainted  some  fort}'  years 
ago  in  Dublin. 

Count  Rice  was  in  fact  the  best  swordsman  of  the  day,  and 
had  fought  many  duels.  His  last  affair  was  with  a  Frenchman 
in  Paris,  who,  aware  of  Rice's  "  force,"  resolved  to  set  his 
skill  at  nought  by  unfair  means.  When  in  presence  of  an 
adversary  Count  Kice,  who  was  cool  as  a  lettuce,  had  the  habit 
of  making  the  fencing  salute  before  engaging.  The  French- 
man in  question  waited  for  this  flom-ish,  and  ran  him  through 
the  body  before  their  points  met. 

Instances  of  this  nature  (the  death  of  a  skilful  duellist  by 
an  unpractised  hand)  are  numerous.  Muley,  the  gun-maker 
of  Parliament  Street,  in  whose  house  Robert  Emmet's  friend, 
the  unfortunate  Captain  Russell,  was  arrested,  was  one  of  the 
best  "  shots"  in  Ireland.  There  being  no  rear  to  his  house, 
he  took  his  customers  for  pistols  into  the  cellars,  where  they 
fired  at  a  lighted  candle,  or  at  a  mark  by  caudle-light.  He 
spoke  of  a  Mr.  Nicholas  French,  of  the  county  of  Galway, 
who  snuffed  a  candle  at  twelve  yards  a  dozen  times  in  succes- 
sion, yet  who  was  killed  in  a  duel  afterwards  by  a  man  who 
never  before  fired  a  shot. 

In  that  age  of  duelling  in  Europe,  such  affairs  were  gene- 
rally managed  in  good  faith  and  loyalty;  but  as  the  instances 
just  related  prove,  exceptions  occurred  occasionally.      One  of 


142  THE    IRISH 

tliem  recurs  to  luy  memoiy,  in  which  the  treacherous  combat- 
ant was  also  a  Frenchman,  a  circumstance  which  must  not  be 
held  to  reflect  injuriously  on  the  character  of  that  gallant 
nation. 

Among  the  crowd  of  flatterers  by  whom  "  the  Faguiani," 
the  reigning  prima  donna  of  that  day  (seventy  years  ago)  in 
Loudon  was  surrounded,  were  the  Duke  of  Queeusbury,  George 
Selwin,  a  Frenchman  whose  name  I  suppress,  and  Mr.  John 
Geoghegau,  of  Jamestown,  county  of  Westmeath,  Ireland, 
who  from  his  dashing  character  was  called  "  Jack  the  Buck." 
These  two  last  mentioned  quarrelled  about  their  lady-love  in 
the  saloon  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  one  night.  The  French- 
man challenged  Geoghegan,  who  had  used  some  violence  to- 
wards him.  The  challenge  was  accepted;  and  both  being- 
armed,  as  was  the  fashion  at  that  period,  they  agreed  to  meet 
at  the  portico  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  Covent  Garden,  immedi- 
ately after  the  play.  They  then  separated ;  Geoghegan  re-en- 
tered the  house,  and  the  Frenchman  went  home. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  adversaries  met,  drew  their 
swords,  and  engaged.  Geoghegan  parried  a  thrust,  and  made 
sure  of  his  man ;  but  instead  of  entering  it,  his  sword  broke 
on  the  breast  of  his  antagonist,  who  ran  him  through  the  body. 
In  falling,  Geoghegan  grappled  with,  but  was  unable  to  hold 
him.  With  the  stump  of  his  sword,  however,  he  scored  him 
down  the  back. 

On  leavina;  the  theatre,  the  Frenchman  had  cone  home  and 
put  on  a  "  prudence,"  something  like  a  quire  of  paper  in  the 
shape  of  a  cuirass.  Geoghegan  recovered  from  the  wound, 
but  it  was  the  remote  cause  of  his  death. 

Of  Geoghegan,  I  remember  another  anecdote.  He  was 
present  at  a  club  or  assembly  at  Bath  one  night  when  Du 
Barri,  the  first  "protector"  of  Madame  Du  Barri,  and  bro- 
ther of  him  who  became  her  husband  (they  were  a  bad  lot), 
was  dealing  a  pack  of  cards  in  a  game  of  whist,  on  which  a 
large  sum  was  staked,  when  Geoghegan  asked  a  wriiter  for  a 
carving- fork.  Having  obtained  it,  he  waited  until  Du  Barri, 
having  dealt  all  but  the  last  card,  was  about  to  turn  it,  when, 
by  a  violent  thrust  of  the  carving-fork,  Geoghegan  fixed  the 
dealer's  hand  to  the  table,  saying:  "  I  shall  beg  your  pardon, 
sir,  if  you  have  not  the  ace  of  clubs  beneath  your  hand." 
The    charge    proved   well-founded,   and    Du    Barri,  bleeding 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  143 

profusely  from  the  wouud,  was  kicked  out  of  the  room,  and 
down  stairs. 

One  more  instance  of  misfortune  to  skilful  swordsmen,  and 
I  shall  resume  my  narration. 

In  the  year  1761,  and  for  many  subsequent  years,  there 
existed  in  Dublin  a  public  garden,  the  resort  of  the  fashiona- 
ble world  at  that  period,  called  IMarlborough  Green.  It  occu- 
pied the  ground  on  which  Lower  Gardener  Street,  and  I  believe 
part  of  Beresford  Place  now  stand.  In  that  year  there  arrived 
in  Dublin,  on  a  visit  to  his  family,  a  Captain  Eugene  O'Reilly, 
of  a  cavalry  regiment  in  the  Austrian  service.  Walking  one 
day  in  the  garden  of  JMarlborough  Green,  in  company  with  some 
ladies,  a  gentleman  passed,  in  uniform,  I  think,  for  he  was  a 
cavalry  officer,  and  whose  spur  caught  the  gown  of  one  of  the 
ladies,  and  tore  it.  The  offender  apologized,  and  each  party 
continued  their  promenade.  When  they  met  again,  a  similar 
circumstance  occurred.  O'Reilly,  now  becoming  angry,  used 
some  strong  expressions,  which  were  haughtily  replied  to,  ac- 
companied by  a  challenge  to  decide  the  matter  on  the  spot. 
They  stepped  accordingly  into  the  green,  and  drew. 

O'Reilly  had  never  fought  with  a  small  sword.  He  knew 
that  his  antagonist  was  Loi'd  Delvin,  eldest  son  of  the  then 
Earl  of  Westmeath,  and  equally  well  known  as  one  of  the 
most  accomplished  swordsmen  of  the  day.  He  knew,  there- 
fore, that  in  a  rencontre  of  any  duration  he  was  sure  to  be 
killed,  and  accordingly  the  moment  their  points  met  he  threw 
himself  with  all  his  force  on  his  adversary',  and  ran  him  through 
the  body.  Lord  Delvin  fell.  He  was  carried  home,  and  died 
next  day,  enjoining  his  family  and  friends  not  to  prosecute  his 
antagonist,  whom  he  confessed  he  had  pui'posely  provoked,  but 
why  I  have  never  heard. 

O'Reilly,  alarmed  for  the  consequences  of  this  act,  left 
Dublin  that  night  for  the  coiuity  of  Meath,  either  to  seek 
shelter  with  his  friends,  or  to  make  provision  for  an  attempt 
at  escape  from  Ireland.  He  walked  the  entire  distance  to 
Kells,  between  thirty  and  forty  English  miles.  On  his  arrival 
there  nest  morning  his  hair,  through  agitation,  as  was  believed, 
had  from  dark  auburn  become  as  white  as  snow.  He  was 
pointed  out  to  me  in  Dublin  some  thirty  or  forty  years  after- 
wards by  the  name  of  <' Delvin"  Reilly,  in  allusion  to  this 
unfortunate  duel. 

I  have  referred  to  the  existence  of  Irish  officers  in  the  ser- 


144  THE    IRISH 

vice  of  foreign  countries.  Many  of  my  readers,  the  younger 
portion  of  them  especially,  may  ask :  "  How  comes  it  that 
they  travel  ?  Why,  if  they  preferred  a  military  life,  did  not 
those  gentlemen  enter  the  English  army  ?" 

In  a  short  time  the  answer  to  this  question  will  probably 
excite  surprise.  It  was,  because  the  laws  forbade  the  admis- 
sion of  a  Roman  Catholic,  as  a  field  officer,  into  the  British 
f  service.  The  father  of  the  Lord  Delvin  of  whom  I  have  just 
spoken,  had  conformed  to  the  religion  of  the  State,  or  his  son 
could  not  have  held  an  English  commission ;  and  this  most 
impolitic,  and  in  more  than  one  of  its  provisions  anomalous 
regulation,  lasted  until  about  the  year  1810. 

While  native-born  Catholics  were  ineligible,  even  to  the 
rank  of  Colonel  in  the  British  army,  a  foreign  Catholic,  the 
Baron  de  Hompesch,  brother  of  the  Grand  Master  of  Malta, 
figured  in  the  British  Army  List  among  the  lieutenants-gene- 
ral. He  had  commanded  in  Ireland  in  1798,  a  corps  of  ban- 
ditti, recruited  in  all  the  military  prisons  of  Europe,  and  which 
were  officially  called  "  Hompesch's  Mounted  Riflemen,"  more 
generally  "  Hessians,"  and  by  the  lower  orders  of  the  people 
"  Hussians."  They  were  more  dishonest,  and  to  the  full  as 
cruel,  as  their  co-operating  cavaliers,  the  Ancient  Britons. 

One  of  the  immediate  influential  causes  of  the  repeal  of 
that  clause  in  the  penal  statute  was,  I  believe,  an  occurrence 
which  took  place  about  the  year  1810,  on  the  capture  of  the 
Isle  of  France  by  a  British  force,  under  Lieutenant-colonel 
Keating.  He  had  carried  the  island  in  the  most  dashing  style, 
but  iipon  the  arrival  of  his  despatch  in  London,  announcing 
the  fact,  it  occurred  to  some  or  other  of  the  sagacious  autho- 
rities that  he  was  a  Eoman  Catholic,  and  consequently  that 
his  employment  in  the  capture  of  the  island  was  irregular.  I 
am  not  sure  that  the  French  took  exceptions  to  it  on  that 
ground,  but  lest  they  should,  a  short  Bill  was  brought  into 
Parliament  to  legalize  the  capture,  to  relieve  the  gallant  Papist 
from  the  consequences  of  his  pi-pmunii-e,  and  to  render  eligible 
to  superior  rank  in  the  array  all  his  co-religionists. 

The  capture  of  the  Isle  of  France  was  attended  with  me- 
lancholy consequences  for  some  unfortunate  countrymen  of 
Colonel  Keating — some  Irish  and  English  soldiers  and  sailors 
found  in  arms  among  the  French  troops.  They  were,  to  the 
number  of  ten  or  twelve,  sent  prisoners  to  London,  and  were 
tried  in  May,  1812,  by  a  special  commission,  presided  over  by 


ABROAD   AND    AT    HOME.  145 

Chief  Barou  Macdonald,  at  the  Sessions  House,  Horsemonger 
Lane,  Surrey,  for  high  treason.  The  Attorney-general,  Sir 
Vicary  Gibbs,  prosecuted  in  person.  The  prisoners  were  de- 
fended by  Henry  Brougham,  who,  even  at  that  early  period 
of  his  career,  was  regarded  as  the  first  advocate  of  the  day. 
His  junior  on  that  occasion  was  Mr.,  afterwards  Sergeant, 
Jones. 

It  appeared  in  evidence  that  those  unfortunate  men  had 
been  sailors  in  vessels  captured,  or  soldiers  in  a  British  regi- 
ment, which  had  formed  part  of  a  corps  that  had  previously, 
but  unsuccessfully,  attempted  to  take  the  island.  Their  offi- 
cers, made  prisoners  with  them,  attended  at  the  trial,  and  de- 
posed in  their  defence  to  the  following  effect : — 

"  The  French  authorities  had,  for  a  long  time,  vainly  sought 
to  induce  them  (the  captured  soldiers)  to  enter  the  French 
service;  but  they  constantly  rejected  all  the  offers  made  to 
them,  until  at  length,  witnessing  the  privations  and  sufferings 
inflicted  on  us  (the  officers),  the  poor  fellows  resolved  to  accept 
the  terms  proposed  by  the  French,  in  order  that,  while  on 
duty,  they  might  ameliorate  our  condition.  They  solicited  our 
assent  to  that  proposition ;  but  this  was,  of  course,  refused 
them.  They  persisted,  however,  and  after  entering  the  French 
service,  always  testified  for  us,  their  late  chiefs,  the  utmost 
respect,  and  insisted  that  the  severities  practised  against  us 
Bhould  be  relaxed." 

To  their  good  conduct  in  every  respect,  except  taking 
service  under  the  French,  their  officers  bore  unanimous 
testimony. 

Mr.  Brougham  made  for  the  prisoners  the  most  of  these 
facts ;  but  the  Judge,  in  addressing  the  jury,  told  them  that 
"  they  must  discard  them,  and  all  other  extenuating  circum- 
stances, from  their  consideration,''  as  "  no  justification  of  trea- 
son could  be  admitted." 

In  consequence  of  this,  in  one  or  two  cases  the  jury  found 
the  accused  guilty.  This  only  served  to  stimulate  Mr. 
Brougham  to  increased  efi"orts  in  defence  of  the  remainder. 
There  were  great  grounds  for  complaint  of  the  course  followed 
in  the  prosecution,  which  he  urged  vehemently  and  often ; 
and  having  obtained  an  acquittal  in  one  case,  it  became  incon- 
venient to  create  new  occasions  for  the  repetition  of  his  pleas 
for  the  prisoners  :  the  Attorney-general,  therefore,  abandoned 
the  prosecution  of  those  yet  untried.     The  case  of  one  of  the 


148  THE    IRISH 

"  Dillon,  bound  by  the  orders  of  Dumouriez  to  avoid  a 
combat,  halted  his  army  and  commanded  a  retrograde  move- 
ment. This  produced  instant  murmuring  in  his  column. 
The  Austrian  General,  observing  confusion  in  Dillon's  corps, 
and  suspecting  that  it  had  been  occasioned  by  some  important 
circumstances,  unknown  to,  but  favourable  for  him,  broke  up 
from  his  position,  and  in  order  to  hasten  the  disorder,  and 
insure  the  retreat  of  the  French,  caused  some  cannon-shots 
to  be  fired  upon  them.  Although  none  of  the  shot,  because 
of  the  distance,  reached  the  French,  the  loud  reports,  com- 
bined with  the  lurking  treason  in  their  ranks,  produced  a 
sudden  panic.  The  cavalry,  who  bad  formed  the  advance, 
now  pressed  upon  the  retiring  infantry  and  rode  them  down. 
Alarm  and  dismay  achieved  the  utter  disorganization  of  the 
corps,  and  then  was  raised,  but  by  whom  has  never  been 
known,  that  terrible  cry,  '  Trahison  !  Sauve  qui  pent !'  which 
has  more  than  once  in  later  times  produced  disaster  in  our 
army. 

"  The  troops  whom  I  had  seen  leave  Lille  in  the  best  pos- 
sible fighting  trim,  and  with  profound  indifference  for  any 
adversary  they  might  meet,  re-entered  it  pele-melc,  running 
and  breathless,  under  the  influence  of  terror,  for  which  no 
cause  could  be  assigned,  save  the  apparition  of  a  foe  for  whom 
they  had  expressed  so  much  contempt. 

"  Dillon  did  his  utmost  to  check  this  disorderly  flight  at 
its  commencement.  In  attempting  to  stop  and  rally  the  flying 
dragoons,  he  was  insulted,  threatened,  and  at  length  wounded 
by  a  pistol-ball  fired  at  him  by  one  of  them  close  to  him.  He 
fell  and  was  borne  away  to  his  carriage,  which  followed  the 
now  disbanded  army.  Four  pieces  of  cannon  were  abandoned 
to  the  Austrians,  and  it  was  only  on  reaching  the  town  of  Lille 
that  the  retreat  terminated. 

"  The  whole  had  been  preconcerted,  however.  Difsorgani- 
^ation  had  made  lamentable  progress  among  the  troops. 
Instigated  by  the  Parisian  sans-culottes,  every  town  and  city 
of  France  was  in  anarchy,  and  the  whole  army,  nay  every 
j-egiment,  was  tampered  with  by  emissaries  of  '  the  Mountain,' 
and  of  '  the  Princes,'  and  '  the  foreigner'  respectively.  Money 
was  distributed  by  the  agents  of  the  foreigner;  blood  and 
pillage  were  promised  by  the  Princes.  Disobedience  towards 
their  officei'S  was  masked  under  professed  suspicion  of  their 
loyalty,  and  was  inculcated  by  the  Montagnards.     Corps  of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  149 

*  Volunteers/  as  they  were  called,  would  leave  Paris  apparently 
with  enthusiasm  and  resolution  for  the  frontier,  but  would  halt 
at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles  from  the  capital,  and,  under  the 
pretext  that  their  officers  were  aristocrats,  would  disobey  or 
attack  them,  and  then  disband  themselves  and  disperse.  In 
the  case  of  Dillon's  soldiers,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  of 
Dumouriez's  army,  this  predisposition  to  mutiny  and  revolt 
was  aided,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  machinations  of  the  enemies 
of  the  Republic,  under  the  guise  of  ultra  civisme. 

"  Lille  had  been  for  many  days  in  tumult  and  disorder 
previously  to  the  sortie  of  Dillon.  The  democrats,  with  much 
reason,  asserted  that  treason  was  being  hatched  against  the 
Republic  ;  and  the  miscreants  who,  under  pretence  of  devotion 
to  it,  sullied  the  Revolution  with  every  possible  practicable 
crime,  were  impatient.  The  venerable  cure  of  the  Madeleine 
had  rendered  himself  suspected  or  unpopular,  and,  being 
informed  that  his  life  was  in  danger,  concealed  himself. 
Shortly  after  Dillon's  army  had  left  the  town,  he  was  observed 
by  a  farrier  endeavouring  to  escape  from  it  disguised  as  a 
woman,  and  was  denounced.  He  was  immediately  seized,  and 
was  borne  to  the  lanterne  in  the  Paris  fashion,  and  put  to 
death  !  This  appalling  proceeding,  which  resembled  the  mode 
of  execution  practised  on  board  ships  of  war,  will  not  in  a  few 
years  be  understood.  Modern  gas-lights  have  in  most  large 
towns  of  France  superseded  the  primitive  machine  (^Reverhoire) 
which,  sustained  by  a  rope  passing  from  posts  placed  on  each 
side  of  a  street  or  road,  hung  over  the  centre  of  the  public 
way.  To  permit  the  trimming,  lighting,  and  extinguishing 
of  the  lamps,  the  rope  by  which  they  were  suspended  was  at 
one  side  secured  within  the  post,  which  was  hollow,  like  a 
spout.  The  lamplighter  had  access  to  it  by  an  aperture  or 
door,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  lower  and  arrange  it,  and  when 
he  had  eifected  his  object  he  tightened  the  rope,  raised  the 
lamp,  locked  the  spout,  and  put  the  key  into  his  pocket.  The 
unhappy  victim  of  popular  fury  in  the  Revolution  would  be 
placed  under  the  lamp,  which  would  be  lowered,  and  the  rope, 
taken  from  it,  put  round  his  neck,  and,  amid  the  cheers  and 
the  execrations  of  the  populace,  he  would  be  '  run  up.'  The 
body  of  the  cure  of  La  Madeleine  was  still  d  la  lanterne  when 
Dillon's  retreating  corps  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  city,  now 
La  Porte  de  Paris. 

"  Scarcely  had  the  first  of  the  runaway  soldiers  entered  the 


150  THE    IRISH 

town,  when  the  mob,  wound  np  to  fury,  and  excited  by  their 
recent  murder  of  the  poor  priest,  rushed  forth  with  terrible 
menaces.  Their  first  victim  was  Colonel  Berthois,  of  the 
Engineers ;  their  nest,  Dillon  himself,  who  was  again  shot  by 
one  of  his  own  soldiers  while  yet  lying  wounded  in  his  carriage. 
He  was  thence  torn  and  trodden  to  death.  His  head  was  cut 
off,  and  his  body  stamped  upon  and  dragged  through  every 
kennel  of  the  town,  and  finally  thrown  into  a  fire  kindled  in 
the  great  square,  on  the  top  of  which  blazed  the  sign-board  of 
the  Hotel  de  Bourbon,  which  had  been  torn  from  its  hinges 
by  the  populace. 

"  The  horrible  tragedy  did  not,  however,  end  here.  The 
remains  of  the  ill-fated  Dillon  were  drawn,  half-consumed, 
from  the  flames,  and  the  body  was  opened ;  and  then  the  scene 
of  cannibalism  took  place,  with  the  particulars  of  which  I  will 
not  shock  you,  and  in  which  a  woman  bore  a  principal  part ! 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  guillotined  for  that  crime 
soon  afterwards." 

This  disgraceful  and  revolting  offence  was  brought  before 
the  Convention  by  his  gallant  relative,  Arthur  Dillon.  An 
inquiry  was  instituted ;  the  leading  parties  in  the  murder  of 
Theobald  Dillon,  among  whom  were  some  of  the  populace  of 
Lille,  were  convicted  and  sentenced  to  death.  One  of  the 
latter,  a  Captain  in  the  National  Guard,  displayed  on  the 
scaffold  a  courage  and  a  sangfroid  rarely  perceptible  out  of 
France,  among  assassins  when  brought  to  justice.  By  a  decree 
of  the  Convention,  the  children  of  Theobald  Dillon  were 
adopted  by  the  country.  Twenty  years  later,  one  of  his  sons 
served  as  an  officer  in  the  Irish  Leoion.     He  is  still  living;. 

The  manner  of  Theobald  Dillon's  death  was  lamentable ; 
but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that,  had  he  not  been  murdered 
in  the  way  just  related,  he  would  have  perished  a  little  later 
on  the  scaffold.  Misfortune  or  error  in  judgment,  and  above 
all,  respectability  of  descent  and  the  assertion  of  truth,  were 
in  those  times  never  pardoned  in  a  military  commander.  Of 
this  his  gallant  brother,  Arthur  Dillon,  was  a  striking  example. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  151 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

An  absolute  gentleman;  full  of  most  excellent  clifTerences,  of  very 

soft  society  and  great  shewing. 

Hamlet. 

ARTHIJ]^  DILLON  was  born  in  Ireland  on  the  3d  of  Sep^ 
tember,  in  the  year  1750.  Early  in  life  he  became  a 
colonel  in  the  service  of  France,  and  was  employed  in  the 
West  Indies  with  his  regiment  during  the  American  war.  He 
distinguished  himself  by  his  courage  and  his  military  skill  in 
the  conquest  of  Grenada,  St.  Eustatia,  Tobago,  and  St. 
Christopher,  of  which  last-mentioned  island  he  was  made 
Governor  after  his  retreat  from  Savannah. 

His  promotions  in  the  army  were  nearly  contemporaneous 
with  those  of  the  unfortunate  Theobald  Dillon.  He  was  created 
a  brigadier  of  infantry  on  the  1st  of  March,  1780,  and  mare- 
chal  de  camp  on  the  1st  of  January,  1784.  On  the  proclama- 
tion of  peace,  the  Island  of  St.  Christopher  was  restored  to 
England ;  when  Dillon  returned  to  France,  and  thence  visited 
London,  where  he  was  received  with  distinction,  and  par- 
ticularly at  the  British  Court.  It  would  appear  that  in  his 
government  of  St.  Christopher  he  had  displayed  sagacity  and 
wisdom ;  for  on  his  appearance  at  the  levee  of  George  III.,  the 
Lord  Chancellor  (Lord  Loughborough)  crossed  the  circle  to 
approach  him,  and  said :  "  Count  Dillon,  we  knew  you  to  be 
a  brave  and  able  soldier,  but  we  were  not  awai-e  that  you  were 
so  good  a  lawyer.  ^Ye  have  investigated,  and  have  confirmed 
:  11  your  judgments^  and  all  your  decrees  delivered  during  your 
I'overnment." 

Disappointed  in  his  expectation  of  the  government  of  Mar- 
tinique, Dillon  accepted  that  of  Tobago.  After  remaining 
there  three  years,  he  returned  to  France ;  and  was  in  1789 
elected  a  deputy  to  the  States-General :  he  defended  in 
that  Assembly  the  interests  of  the  colonies  with  talent  and 
energy.  He  was  appointed  in  1792  commander  of  an  army 
of  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  thousand  men,  and  fought 


152  THE    IRISH 

with  success  in  the  plains  of  Champagne  and  in  the  forest  of 
Argone.  Dumouriez  having  ordered  him  to  march  on  Verdun 
to  harass  the  retreat  of  the  Prussian  army,  he  arrived  at  that 
city  precisely  as  the  enemy  were  about  to  enter  it.  He  imme- 
diately placed  his  cannon  in  battery  on  IMount  St.  Bartholomew, 
which  commands  the  citadel,  and  on  the  12th  of  October  sum- 
moned the  Governor  to  surrender.  After  a  brief  delay  the 
town  capitulated,  and  Dillon  entered  it  on  the  14th  at  the  head 
of  his  troops. 

For  some  reason  not  now  known,  Arthur  Dillon  appeared 
in  Paris  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1793,  and  was,  at  that 
season  when  denunciations  were  almost  universal,  secretly 
accused  of  opinions  and  practices  hostile  to  the  Republic. 
This  led  to  his  arrest  by  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  in  compliance 
with  an  order  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  He  was 
committed  to  the  Palace  of  the  Luxembourg,  then  a  prison 
crowded  with  some  of  the  most  noble  and  distinguished  men, 
and  even  women  of  France.  The  universal  horror  which  had 
followed  the  massacres  in  September  of  the  pi'eceding  year, 
deterred  the  government,  which  had  just  sent  Louis  XVL  to 
the  scaffold,  from  getting  rid  by  similar  means  of  the  unfor- 
tunate persons  with  whom,  in  the  brief  interval  which  had 
intervened,  the  whole  of  the  ordinary  jails  and  other  places 
of  confinement  again  overflowed.  A  new  method,  not  less  sure 
than  direct  massacre,  although  a  little  more  tedious,  was  con- 
ceived ;  one  more  odious,  too,  for  it  required  perjury  and  the 
perversion  of  every  semblance  of  law  and  justice  to  carry  it 
into  execution.  A  mock  plot  was  got  up,  in  which  all  the 
persons  imprisoned,  without  exception,  were  compromised. 

Previously  to  this  conception,  to  which  it  must  be  confessed 
Dillon  afterwards  in  a  moment  of  aberration  gave  colour,  his 
case  had  been  brought  before  the  Convention  by  a  generous 
and  courageous  friend,  whose  defence  of  him  was  one  of  the 
circumstances  which  brought  himself  to  the  scaflFold.  This 
intrepid  advocate  was  Camille-Desmoulins.  The  faults  and 
errors  of  that  excitable  young  man  were  many  and  enormous ; 
but  they  did  not,  it  would  appear,  exclude  from  his  bosom 
emotions  of  friendship  or  the  manlihood  to  display  them. 

In  vain  had  the  devoted,  the  talented,  the  enthusiastic,  but 
rash  and  precipitate  Camille,  appealed  to  the  Convention  in 
behalf  of  his  incarcerated  friend ;  in  vain  had  he  dwelt  upon 
the  services  rendered  by  Dillon  to  France ;    in  vain  had  he 


ABROAD   AND    AT    HOME.  153 

with  indignation  repelled  and  repudiated  the  incredible  crimes 
attributed  to  him ;  in  vain  had  he  with  irony  and  sarcasm 
rebutted  the  accusation,  that  Dillon  was  compromised  in  "  a 
plot,  which  had  for  its  objects  the  overthrow  of  the  Republic, 
to  seize  upon  the  principal  military  posts  (those  of  the  arsenal 
and  the  Pont  Neuf  especially),  to  arrest  and  egorger  the 
patriotic  members  of  the  Convention,  and  of  the  Committees 
of  Public  and  of  General  Safety ;  and  finally,  to  tear  out  their 
hearts,  roast,  and  then  devour  them  ?"* 

On  these  absurd  charges    Dillon  and  his  fellow-prisoners 
were  brought  to  trial,  if  trial  it  could  be  termed,  for  in  every 
case  conviction  and  execution  followed  accusation  as  matters  of 
•     course. 

Unfortunately  it  would  appear  that  there  had  been  in  the 
prison  a  project  on  foot  for  sending  a  thousand  crowns  and  a 
letter  to  the  wife  of  Camille.  One  of  the  prisoners,  the  base 
and  cowardly  Laflotte,  hoping  to  obtain  life  and  liberty  by  de- 
nouncing a  plot,  ran  to  the  keeper  of  the  Luxembourg  and 
drew  up  a  declaration,  in  which  he  described  a  conspiracy  about 
to  break  out  within  and  without  the  prisons,  to  rescue  the 
accused  and  assassinate  the  members  of  the  two  committees. 
The  use  which  was  made  of  this  fatal  deposition  will  be  pre- 
sently seen.  Among  other  results  were  the  aggravation  of  the 
charges  against  Danton,  Camille-Desmoulins,  and  their  asso- 
ciates, then  upon  their  trial,  and  ultimately  the  butchery  by 
the  guillotine  of  the  prisoners  confined  in  the  several  prisons, 
namely,  the  Luxembourg,  the  Cai'mes,  La  Force,  the  Mairie, 
Picpus,  Talaru,  les  Anglaises  (the  convent  of  the  English 
Nuns),  the  Madelonettes,  Sainte  Pelagic,  the  Rue  de  Sevres, 
the  Porte  Libre,  Saint  Lazare,  the  Conciergerie,  Plessis,  &c. 

Arthur  Dillon  was  guillotined  on  the  24th  Germinal,  An. 
II.  (14th  of  April,  1794),  together  with  seventeen  other  per- 
sons (two  of  them  females)  of  various  stations  in  life,  some  of 
them  distinguished  by  birth,  more  of  them  by  crime.  All  were 
innocent  of  the  particular  oifence  for  which  they  ostensibly 
suffered  death.  They  were  conveyed  in  common  carts  from 
the  Conciergerie  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  where  stood  the 
guillotine  en  j^ennanence.  When  they  arrived  at  the  fatal 
spot,  they  descended  from  their  hideous  vehicle  and  were 
mustered  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  and  counted  by  the  exe- 

•■'"  The  e.\;ict  ferins  of  the  actv  d' accusation. 


154  THE    IRISH 

cutioner  before  commencing  the  slaughter.  This  preliminary 
over,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  one  of  the  female 
victims,  and  motioned  to  the  steps  leading  to  the  scaflfold.  She 
shrank  from  his  touch,  and  turning  to  Dillon,  said  :  "■  Oh  !  M. 
Dillon,  pray  go  first !" 

"Anything  to  oblige  a  lady,"  said  the  elegant  and  courteous 
Dillon,  Avith  his  usual  captivating  smile,  and  ascended  the 
scafi'old.  His  last  words,  pronounced  in  a  voice  that  resounded 
through  the  '*  Place,"  were,  ''  Vive  le  Roi !"  Was  it  this 
incident  that  suggested  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  the  expression : 
"  God  save  King  James  !"  which  he  places  in  the  mouth  of 
Hector  Mac  Ivor,  in  precisely  similar  circumstances  ? 

I  have  heard  from  a  late  amiable,  excellent,  and  generally 
well-informed  friend,  Colonel  Morres  de  Montmorency,  that 
this  lady  was  the  Honourable  Miss  Brown,  sister  or  aunt  of 
the  Lord  Kenmare  of  that  day,  but  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
he  was  for  once  in  error.  On  turning  to  the  fearful  records 
of  the  time,  I  find  among  the  fellow-sufferers  of  Dillon  only 
two  women — the  lovely,  interesting,  and  youthful  widow  of 
Camille-Desmoulins  and  the  relict  of  the  monster  Hebert 
(P^re  Duchesne).  Their  husbands  had  been  adversaries  d 
outrance  throughout  the  Revolution,  but  they  entailed  upon 
their  unhappy  consorts  a  common  and  simultaneous  fate.  From 
what  I  have  learnt,  it  is  more  probable  that  it  was  the  widow 
of  Hubert  who  recoiled  from  the  touch  of  the  executioner  than 
the  heroic  widow  of  Camille-Desmoulins. 

The  widow  of  Hubert  had  been  many  years  before  the 
Revolution  a  nun  of  the  Convent  of  the  Conception,  in  the 
Rue  Saint  Honore,  Paris,  and  had  attained  to  her  six-and- 
thirtieth  year,  when  the  Revolution  broke  out,  and  the  convents 
were  suppressed,  and  their  inmates  dispersed  or  immolated. 
She  ''could  not  call  it  love,"  for  at  her  age, 

"  The  hey-day  of  the  blood  is  tame, 
And  waits  upon  the  judgment — " 

She  married,  nevertheless,  the  wretch  Hebert,  and,  probably 
guiltless  of  political  crime,  died  in  consequence.* 

*  I  have  met  but  one  person  who  knew  Madame  Camille-Desmoulins, 
M.  Tissot,  the  distinguished  literary  veteran,  whom  I  shall  have  to  mention 
later.     He  spoke  of  her  with  feeling  approaching  to  enthusiasm. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    UOME.  155 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

In  sweetest  harmony  they  lived. 
Nor  death  their  union  could  divide. 

ON  the  same  scaffold  with  Dillon,  and  nearly  at  the  same 
moment,  perished,  as  we  have  seen,  the  younp:,  the  beau- 
tiful Aunc  Philippe  Louise  Duplessis  Lacidon,  widow  of  the 
unfortunate  Cainille-Dcsmoulins.  Her  wedded  life  had  been 
as  happy  as  was  possible,  considering  the  state  of  excitement 
and  agitation  in  which  her  husband's  connexion  with  the 
stormy  events  of  the  Revolution  must  have  kept  her.  Their 
attachment  to  each  other  amounted  to  the  romantic.  "  De- 
termined that  death  should  not  long  sepai-ate  them,"  it  was 
said  she  took  that  which  her  biographer  terms,  ''  the  generous 
resolution  to  follow  him." 

One-and-twenty  yeai's  afterwards,  another  young,  beautiful, 
and  interesting  woman,  similarly  bereaved,  gave  public  utter- 
ance to  a  resolution  of  precisely  the  same  tendency. 

Verba  volaat,  scripta  manent. 

This  was  the  widow  of  the  young,  the  handsome,  the  brave, 
the  gallant,  the  noble,  the  faithful,  and  the  devoted  adherent 
of  Napoleon,  Charles  Angelique  Frangois  Huchet,  Count  de 
Lab<5doy5re.  She  ergcted  to  his  memory  in  Pere  la  Chaise, 
a  handsome  monument  (head-stone  it  would  be  called  in  Ire- 
land), on  which  is  portrayed,  for  it  still  exists,  in  bas-relief,  a 
veiled  female  weeping  over  a  child,  who  extends  his  hands 
towards  her  in  supplication  or  sympathy,  and  which  bears  this 
epigraph  : — 

"mox  amour  pour  mox  fils 

A  PU  SEUL 


The  other  face  of  the  monument  says  : — 

'*'  Ici  repose  Charles  Angelique  Frangois  Huchet,  Comte  de 

*  My  love  for  my  son  alono  retains  me  in  life. 


156  THE    IRISH 

Lab6doyere,  n6  17  Aout,  1786.  Enleve  a  tout  ce  qui  etait 
cher  le  19  Aoiit,  1815. "=i= 

It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  insane  rigour  which  sent 
Labedoyere  to  his  early  tomb  to  forbid  a  perceptible  space  to 
be  set  aside  for  the  interment  of  his  remains  in  a  public  ceme- 
tery. On  first  visiting  Pere  la  Chaise,  on  Le  Jour  des  Morts 
(All  Souls)  in  the  year  1822,  I  was  accompanied  by  an  Irish- 
man, who  had  been  a  superior  officer  of  the  French  army 
during  the  Empire,  and  who  still  lives.  The  tombs  of  Mas- 
sena  and  Davoust,  in  "  the  Square  of  the  Marshals,"  were 
easily  discovered;  the  grave  of  Ney,  surrounded,  as  at  the 
present  day,  merely  by  an  iron  railing,  which  the  passenger 
then  regarded  as  if  by  stealth,  was  pointed  out  by  an  invalid 
soldier,  who  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  hurried  and  mysterious 
manner.  To  the  resting-place  of  Labedoyere  nobody  could 
direct  us — even  the  guardians  professed  their  inability  to  indi- 
cate it. 

After  visiting  the  mausoleum  of  Abelard  and  Heloise,  we 
returned  towards  the  gate,  passing  by  a  path  bounded  on  the 
left  by  the  wall  of  the  cemetery,  but  at  a  distance  of  four  or 
five  yards,  just  sufficient  to  admit  of  a  single  row  of  graves, 
shrouded  with  shrubs.  We  had  walked  during  some  minutes 
in  silence,  when  suddenly  some  object  occasioned  a  remark. 
The  instant  after  our  voices  could  be  heard,  two  soldiers  inished 
from  among  the  tombs  to  our  left,  and  walked  in  a  rapid  pace 
in  the  direction  of  the  chapel.  "  These  fellows  have  been 
about  something,"  observed  my  companion;  "let  us  see." 

We  proceeded  to  the  spot  from  which  they  had  fled,  and 
found  that  they  had  been  mourning  over  the  grave  of  Labe- 
doyere. The  face  of  the  monument,  turned  towards  the  wall, 
could  attract  no  visitant  or  spectator  but  one  acquainted  with 
its  locality.  On  the  white  marble  we  found  inscribed  in 
pencil,  evidently  just  written,  the  following  words  : — 

"  Ah  !  Labedoyere  !     Tu  seras  venge  un  jour  !" 

This  was  prophetic. 

How  inefficacious  is  the  punishment  of  death  for  political 
ofi'ences !  How  unchristian  and  frequently  impolitic  the  in- 
dulgence of  revenge  !  How  futile  human  calculations  !  On 
the  30th  of  July,  1830,  I  found  a  dozen  tri-coloured  flags  and 
several  pen  and  ink  inscriptions  attached  to  them  floating  over 

*  C.  A.  F.  Hucbet,  Count  de  Labedoyere,  born  17th   of  August,  1786. 
Removed  from  all  that  was  dear  to  him  19th  of  August,  1815. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOxME.  157 

the  resting-place  of  Labedoy^re ;  at  that  moment  when  those 
by  whose  unrelenting  decree  he  was  slaughtered,  were  flying 
towards  Rambouillet,  hunted  by  a  swarm  of  the  Parisian 
populace,  directed,  as  far  as  they  would  be  directed,  by  Pajol. 
Moreover,  the  originally  obscure  spot  accorded  to  the  widow 
of  Labedoy^re  for  the  reception  of  her  husband's  remains,  is 
now,  in  consequence  of  the  extension  of  the  burying-ground, 
one  of  the  most  public  portions  of  the  cemetery. 

I  am  told  he  was  a  traitor.  True.  And  Ney  was  a  traitor ; 
and  yet  there  are  more  than  I  who  sincerely  regret  their  exe- 
cution, and  among  them,  I  am  told — and  I  hope  truly,  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  If  there  existed  a  similarity  in  their 
deaths,  there  was  a  very  important  difference  in  the  manner  in 
which  Camille-Desmoulins  and  Labedoyere  met  the  fatal  stroke. 
The  former  did  not  renounce  or  recall  the  impious  levity  of  his 
remarks  upon  St.  Just,  or  of  his  reply  to  the  question  of  his 
own  judges  touching  his  age,  and  possibly  died  as  he  had  lived. 
Labedoyere  marched  to  the  platoon  beneath  whose  fire  he  fell 
with  the  sang-froid  and  gravity  he  ever  displayed  on  entering 
the  field  of  battle.  His  earliest  friend,  he  who  had  directed 
his  infancy  and  youth,  the  Abbe  Dulondel  de  Cairn,  accom- 
panied him  in  his  prime  of  manhood  to  the  place  of  execution, 
and  bestowed  upon  him,  an  instant  before  he  fell,  his  benedic- 
tion. Like  Lally,  Labedoyere  ''  se  frappait  en  heros  et  repentit 
en  chretien." 

But  let  us  speak  of  Madame  Camille-Desmoulins. 

In  order  to  accomplish  her  designs,  Madame  Desmoulins 
wrote,  we  are  told,  to  the  miscreants  who  arrogated  to  them- 
selves the  title  of  Judges  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  an 
energetic  letter,  in  which  she  expressed  all  the  horror  with 
which  they  inspired  her,  and  asked  for  death  at  their  hands. 
The  monsters  who  presided  at  the  tribunal  of  blood  made  no 
difficulty  in  complying  with  her  desire,  but  they  held  it  in 
some  sort  necessary  that  their  fiat  should  bear  the  appearance 
of  justice.  They  therefore  caused  her  to  be  accused  of  par- 
ticipation in  the  plot  for  which,  ostensibly,  Dillon  was  brought 
to  the  scafi'old,  and  for  which  charge,  as  I  have  said,  he  unfor- 
tunately furnished  them  with  plnusible  proof. 

With  Arthvir  Dillon  may  be  said  to  have  ended  the  illus- 
trious Dillons  of  the  Irish  Brigade. 

To  this  unhappy  instance  of  conjugal  love  continued  after 


158  THE    IKISH 

the  death  of  one  party,  another,  and  a  remarkable  one,  may 
be  added. 

The  noble  wife  of  Marshal  Mouchy  (she  was  of  the  family 
of  Noailles)  devoted  herself  with  even  more  perseverance  than 
Madame  Desmoxilins.  On  her  husband's  committal  to  the 
Luxembourg,  she  insisted  on  being  incarcerated  with  him. 
When  brought  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  she  placed 
herself  beside  him  and  remained,  although  told  by  Fouquier- 
Tiuville  that  she  was  not  arraigned.  AVhen  he  was  broue-ht 
out  for  execution  she  ascended  the  cart,  and  when  in  the  Place 
de  la  Revolution,  she  mounted  the  scaffold — and  was  guillo- 
tined with  him. 

These  examples  of  conjugal  love  we  irresistibly  admire; 
but  some  will  pronounce  them  simply  suicides. 

The  unhappy  widow  Desmoulins  and  the  Marechale  Mouchy 
were  not  without  some  imitators  among  the  male  sex,  as  will 
be  seen  by  the  following  extract,  which  I  find  among  my 
papers. 

Champcenitz,  son  of  the  Governor  of  the  Tuileries,  was 
born  in  Paris  in  1759,  and  distinguished  himself  up  to  the 
moment  of  his  arrest  in  July,  1794,  by  his  devotion  to  the 
King,  and  by  the  admirable  ridicule  he  used  in  contending  in 
the  newspapers  with  the  partisans  of  the  Reign  of  Terror. 
He  unnecessarily  and  purposely  provoked  his  fate  by  coming 
to  reside  in  Paris,  and  was  condemned  to  death  on  the  24th 
of  July,  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  After  hearing  his 
sentence,  he  begged  his  judges,  with  mock  gravity,  to  inform 
him  whether  it  would  be  permitted  to  purchase  a  substitute  ! 

He  was  executed  only  three  days  before  the  fall  of  Robes- 
pierre. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Etre  a  cheval  sur  le  dos  d'un  tigre. 

French  translation  from  the  Chinese. 

THE  motto  of  this  chapter  is  thus  described  by  the  trans- 
lator : — 
*'  Expression  proverbiale  fort  commune  j\  la  Chine,  pour 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  159 

designer  la  situation  la  plus  terrible  dans  laquelle  uu  homme 
puisse  se  trouver." 

It  indicates  faithfully  tlio  position  of  the  rash,  headstrong, 
thoughtless  young  man,  Camille-Desmoulins,  who,  imagining 
that  friendship  subsisted  between  him  and  Robespierre,  pre- 
sumed to  deal  with  him  as  an  equal,  and  to  reply  upon  him. 
Fatal  error ! 

Of  the  eighteen  unhappy  persons  who  perished  on  the 
scaffold  in  the  way  I  have  just  mentioned,  two  only  were  sub- 
jects of  sympathy  and  commiseration.  These  were  Dillon  and 
the  widow  of  Camille-Desmoulins. 

Of  her  highly  gifted  but  ill-fated  husband,  one  word. 
When  placed  literally  on  his  trial,  before  the  Committee  of 
the  Jacobins,  Camille-Desmoulins  made  an  attack  upon  his 
enemies  and  accusers  rather  than  a  defence  of  himself.  This 
naturally  produced  increased  rancour  on  their  part,  and  espe- 
cially on  that  of  CoUot  d'Herbois,  and  insured  his  destruction. 
He  might  have  been  saved  by  the  interposition  of  Robespierre, 
who  had  on  a  former  occasion  successfully  interfered  between 
him  and  his  enemies  ;  but  his  unreflecting  and  impetuous  tem- 
per led  him  into  the  error  of  converting  into  hostility  the 
proposed  "  protection"  of  that  compound  of  vanity,  ego'isme, 
arrogance,  and  cruelty. 

The  line  taken  by  Robespierre  in  extenuation  of  Camille- 
Desmoulins  on  this  occasion,  was  that  which  he  had  followed 
on  a  previous  one.  He  repeated  that  "■  the  disposition  and 
principles  of  Camille  are  excellent,  but  they  do  not  entitle 
him  to  write  against  the  patriots.  Call  upon  him  to  quit  the 
society  of  aristocrats  (Dillon  was  deemed  one),  ^'  and  other 
evil  and  improper  associations,  and  in  forgiving  him,  order 
the  offending  numbers  of  his  newspaper  to  be  burnt." 

The  unhappy  Camille,  forgetting  all  the  caution  and  cir- 
cumspection with  which  a  man  so  proud,  so  conceited,  and  so 
dangerous  as  was  Robespierre  should  be  treated,  cried  out  from 
his  place  :  "To  burn  is  not  to  answer." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  resumed  the  now  irritated  Robespierre ; 
"  burn  them  not,  but  answer  them.  Let  the  numbers  of  his 
journal  be  read  immediately.  Since  he  desires  it,  let  him  be 
covered  with  ignominy.  Let  not  society  withhold  its  indigna- 
tion, since  he  persists  in  repeating  his  diatribes  and  his  perilous 
principles.  The  man  who  adheres  with  such  pertinacity  to 
perfidious  writings  is,   perhaps,   something  worse  than  mis- 


160  THE    IRISH 

guided.  If  he  had  been  influenced  by  good  faith,  if  he  had 
written  in  the  candid  simplicity  of  his  heart,  he  would  no 
longer  have  dared  to  maintain  and  defend  works  condemned 
by  all  true  patriots,  and  which  are  sought  for  with  so  much 
solicitude  by  the  counter-revolutionists.  His  courage  is  only 
assumed.  He  betrays  the  men  under  whose  dictation  he  has 
written  his  newspaper  articles.  He  betrays  Camille-Desmou- 
lins  as  the  organ  of  a  rascally  faction,  which  has  borrowed  his 
pen  to  disseminate  its  poison  with  more  audacity  and  security." 

Camille  in  vain  demanded  to  be  heard,  and  to  soothe  Ro- 
bespierre. They  refused  to  listen  to  him,  and  proceeded  forth- 
with to  the  reading  of  the  leading  articles  of  his  paper,  which 
occupied  two  entire  days.  They  were  held  to  be  overwhelm- 
ing. In  extenuation  he  contended,  and  with  truth,  that  the 
articles  of  his  journal,  "  Le  Vieux  Cordelier,"  which  were 
complained  of,  were  misinterpreted  by  those  who  founded  on 
them  the  accusation  to  which  he  was  called  on  to  reply.  At 
some  intervals,  his  patriotism,  energy,  the  courage  and  the 
talent  which  shone  through  the  personalities  and  invective 
with  which  they  were  charged,  and  the  wondrous  audacity, 
scorn,  and  ability  of  Danton,  who  was  tried  with  him,  sug- 
gested hope  to  their  friends  that  they  would  be  acquitted ;  but 
Billaud  de  Varennes  and  Saint  Just  restored  the  wavering 
courage  of  Fouquier-Tinville  and  Hermann,  and  ordered  that 
the  proceedings  should  be  deemed  closed  at  the  end  of  three 
days. 

"  The  situation  is  critical,"  said  St.  Just ;  "  but  if  you  act 
with  resolution,  this  is  the  last  danger  you  will  have  to  sur- 
mount. The  accused  present  at  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
are  in  full  revolt  against  its  authority.  They  carry  their  inso- 
lence so  far  as  to  throw  pellets  made  of  soft  bread  at  the  faces 
of  their  judges.  They  excite  the  people,  and  may  succeed  in 
misleading  them.  That  is  not,  however,  all.  They  have  pre- 
pared a  conspiracy  in  the  prisons.  The  wife  of  Camille  has 
received  money  to  provoke  an  insurrection.  General  Dillon  is 
to  issue  from  the- Luxembourg,  place  himself  at  the  head  of 
some  conspirators,  cut  the  throats  of  the  Committees  of  Public 
and  of  General  Safety,  and  set  the  guilty  prisoners  free." 

The  result  is  too  well  known  to  require  that  I  give  the  par- 
ticulars. Camille,  the  young,  the  ardent,  and  the  devoted, 
was,  with  Danton  and  his  companions,  transferred  to  the  pri- 
son which  already  held  Dillon,  for  whom  he  had  in  some  de- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  161 

gree  sacrificed  himself,  and  whom  by  eight  days  he  preceded 
to  the  scaffold. 

Among  the  faults  or  sins  of  Camille-Desmoulins  were  osten- 
tatious infidelity  and  the  utterance  of  revolting  blasphemies 
under  the  appearance  of  jests.  Was  this  a  mere  fagon  de 
parler  in  him,  as  I  have  known  it  to  be  in  others  ?  How 
many  weak  and  vain  young  men  are  there  everywhere  who 
strut  and  swagger  in  the  cheap  finery  of  soi-disant  scepticism 
and  impiety  ? 

Unfortunate,  highly  talented  Desmoulins  !  His  fearless  and 
impassioned  eloquence,  and  his  cry  ''  To  arms  !"  in  the  garden 
of  the  Palais  Royale,  on  the  12th  of  July,  1789,  contributed 
powerfully  to  produce  the  Revolution ;  and  his  friend  Dan- 
ton's  declaration,  "  The  country's  in  danger  !"  saved  the  Re- 
public. What  was  the  reward  of  their  republicanism  and 
clvisme?  Death  on  the  same  scaffold,  to  which  they  were  sent 
by  monsters,  compared  with  whom  they  were  truly  moderns. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Another,  and  another  still ! 


JIacbeth. 


ARTHUR  DILLON  had  been,  on  the  6th  of  March,  1794, 
preceded  to  the  scaffold  by  another  Irishman  of  distinc- 
tion, born  in  the  same  county,  in  the  same  year  (1750) — his 
contemporary  in  fact  in  every  respect,  for  he  had,  like  him, 
commenced  his  career  in  "  Dillon's."  This  was  General 
James  O'Moran,  born  at  Elphin,  in  the  county  of  Roscom- 
mon, Ireland.  He  was,  like  Dillon,  at  the  period  of  the  Revo- 
lution, a  lieutenant-general,  and  a  Knight  of  St.  Louis.  Hav- 
ing, with  Colonel  Charles  Geoghcgan,  and  several  others  of  his 
countrymen,  served  in  America  under  Rochambeau  and  La 
Fayette,  General  O'Moran  received,  like  most  of  his  brother 
soldiers  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  the  decoration  of  an  order 
of  chivalry  created  by  the  American  Government,  with  which, 
as  I  have  already  said,  they  complimented  those  of  their  foreign 
allies  who  had  displaj-ed  courage,  talent,  and  bonne  volonti,  in 


162  THE    IRISH 

their  cause.  This  order  was  called  the  order  of  "  Cincinnatus."* 
On  his  return  to  France,  he  was  appointed  captain  of  a  com- 
pany in  '^  Dillon's  regiment,"  and  the  year  following  was  raised 
to  the  rank  of  major-general.  In  1792  he  was  promoted  to 
the  grade  of  lieutenant-general,  and  was  sent  to  the  army  of 
the  north,  and  "  covered  himself  with  glory"  in  that  hard-fought 
campaign.  It  was  General  O'Moran,  say  the  French  archives, 
"  and  not  General  Labourdonnaye  (as  is  incorrectly  stated  in 
all  the  military  narratives  of  the  period),  who  in  1793  carried 
for  the  first  time  the  important  barrier  town  of  Furnes."  His 
case  resembles,  however,  too  closely  that  of  his  friend  and  con- 
temporary, Arthur  Dillon,  to  justify  an  extended  notice  of  it. 
Like  Dillon  he  was  a  brave  and  gallant  ofl&cer ;  like  him,  was 
denounced  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory  "  by  a  ferocious  brute, 
sent  to  the  army  of  the  Pas  de  Calais  in  quality  of  representa- 
tive of  the  people."  Like  Dillon,  too,  he  was  doomed  by  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  to  the  scaffold. 

'^  General  O'Moran,"  say  the  French  Biographers,  "had 
fulfilled  entirely  the  glorious  career  to  which  he  would  appear 
to  have  been  destined,  but  he  is  not  the  less  entitled  to  the 
eulogiums  of  his  contemporaries,  and  to  the  homage  of  society 
as  one  of  the  men  who  opened  to  our  armies  the  road  to  victory, 
which  it  pursued  during  thirty  years,  and  as  '  a  model  of  all 
the  military  virtues,'  as  well  as  '  one  of  the  most  honourable 
victims  of  that  great  and  melancholy  epoch.'  " 

General  O'Moran  was,  in  fact,  one  of  those  Irishmen  who, 
in  more  modern  times,  most  successfully  sustained  the  reputa- 
tion of  his  countrymen  on  the  Eui'opean  continent.  Centuries 
have  passed  since  the  foundation  of  that  reputation  was  laid, 
and  the  stnicture  still  remains  a  glorious  monument — 

"Untouched  by  time,  unstained  by  crime." 

*  "Talking  of  crosses,"  said  our  Cousin  Eobin  one  day;  "Charles  Geo- 
ghegan  of  Sionan,  county  of  Westmeath,  made,  as  colonel,  the  American 
campaign  with  Rochambeau  and  La  Layette,  and  received  from  the  hands 
of  Washington  the  cross  of  Cincinnatus.  Geoghegan,  now  a  general,  retired 
into  Brittany,  and  was  regarded  with  veneration  by  his  neighbours,  who 
particularly  admired  his  decorations  of  St.  Louis  and  Cincinnatus.  They 
would  ask  him  :  '  General,  what  order  is  that?' 

"'Saint  Louis.' 

"'And  this?' 

"  '  Cincinnatus.' 

"  'Cincinnatus  ! — there  is  no  such  Saint  in  the  calendar  as  Cincinnatus !' 

"  To  understand  this  little  story,"  said  Cousin  Robin,  "you  should  recol- 
lect that,  in  French,  Cin  and  Saint  are  pronounced  alike." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  1G3 

Before  taking  leave  of  this  distinguished  and  lamented  son 
of  Ireland,  I  feel  an  irresistible  desire  to  quote  from  a  brief 
biography  of  him  a  passage  suggesting  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able of  the  man}'  ''strange  coincidences"  that  have  struck  me 
in  the  course  of  my  life.  I  will  show  that  it  ivas  hy  the  order 
of  an  Irishman,  the  first  (as  hy  the  order  of  an  Irishman, 
the  last)  shots  were  fired,  in  that  desolatinrj  continental  toar 
which  commenced  in  1792  and  terminated  in  1815.  From 
O'Moran  to  Wellington,  how  many  millions  of  the  bravest  men 
that  ever  lived  have  perished  in  the  field,  and  with  what  results, 
for  France,  at  least  ? 

The  following  is  the  extract  to  which  I  alluded  : — 

*'  On  being  named  marechal  de  camp  in  1791,  the  com- 
mand of  the  fortified  town  of  Conde  was  conferred  upon 
O'Moran.  He  exercised  it  at  the  precise  moment  when  war 
was  declared,  and  commenced  hostilities  by  a  night  attack  upon 
the  Abbey  of  Saint  Amand,  occupied  at  that  moment  by  a 
body  of  Austrians.  Another  curious  fact  is,  that,  with  the 
discrimination,  tact,  and  policy  of  an  observant  and  sagacious 
soldier,  he  elicited  on  the  part  of  a  man  named  Rousselot,  who 
was  promoted  by  him  from  the  ranks  to  the  grade  of  sergeant, 
the  first  of  those  military  exploits,  those  prodigies  of  heroism, 
of  which  the  ensuing  campaigns  furnished  so  many  and  such 
bright  examples. 

"This  step  in  his  military  career  Eousselot  owed  to  the 
braveiy  he  had  displayed  in  the  attack  upon  Saint  Amand. 

"  The  fortress  of  Conde  is  situated  on  the  extreme  frontier. 
Its  environs  became  during  several  months  the  scene  of  daily 
sanguinary  conflicts.  The  Aixstrians  approached  the  place 
frequently,  and  were  as  often  driven  back.  On  the  9th  of 
May,  1792,  Rousselot,  with  a  party  of  eight  recruits,  occupied 
Marion,  the  most  advanced  of  all  the  outworks  of  Conde.  Here 
he  was  attached  by  a  body  of  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  hulans. 
Unintimidated  by  the  disproportionate  number  of  the  enemy, 
Rousselot  made  his  arrangements,  posted  his  men  in  the  most 
advantageous  manner,  and  then  addressed  them  in  these  words  : 
— '  If  I  e-\ance  the  slightest  tendency  to  fly,  kill  me.  If  you 
attempt  to  run,  I  will  kill  you.' 

"  After  a  combat  of  an  hour,  during  which  he  and  his  men 
had  each  '  burned'  forty  cartridges,  Rousselot  felt  obliged  to 
retreat  from  his  post  and  take  refuge  in  the  Place,  halting  at 
every  twenty  steps,  however,  to  fire  upon  the  hulans,  of  whom 


164  THE    IRISH 

five-and-twenty  bit  the  dust.  Jumping  upon  the  horse  of  one 
of  them,  Rousselot  entered  the  town  at  the  head  of  six  of  his 
little  troop.    Two  had  fallen  gloriously  in  the  unequal  conflict." 

I  have  stated  that  General  O'Moran  had  been  denounced 
by  a  ferocious  wretch,  present  with  the  army  in  quality  of 
representative  of  the  people,  and  was  sent  by  him  before  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

The  aide-de-camp  of  General  O'Moran  in  this  battle  of 
Bonne  Secours  was  Captain  Jouy  of  the  "  Regiment  du  Colonel- 
general,"  who  was  desperately  wounded  by  his  side  on  that 
occasion.  As  some  balm  to  his  wound,  O'Moran  created  him 
adjutant-general  on  the  field  of  battle.  We  find  them  still 
together  at  the  taking  of  Furnes,  and  almost  immediately  after- 
wards associated  in  a  calumnious  accusation  of  treason  by  the 
wretch  Duquesnois,  representative  of  the  people,  arrested  by 
his  order,  and  sent  prisoners  to  Paris. 

Although  great  exceptions  can  be  found,  it  is  not  often  that 
men  exchange  the  field  for  the  closet,  the  sword  for  the  pen. 
The  reader  will  therefore  probably  be  surprised  to  find  that  the 
Adjutant-general  Jouy,  aide-de-camp  of  General  O'Moran, 
became  subsequently  one  of  the  most  successful  literary  men 
of  France,  and  member  of  the  Institute. 

At  the  College  of  Orleans,  Versailles,  Jouy  had  formed  a 
friendship,  which  continued  throughout  his  life,  with  one  who 
became,  like  himself,  celebrated  in  the  world  of  literature,  and 
from  whom  I  received,  within  these  few  days,  the  subjoined 
brief  particulars  respecting  him.  That  friend  was  Pierre 
Francois  Tissot,  Professor  of  History  at  the  College  of  France, 
now  on  the  eve  of  the  completion  of  his  eighty-fourth  year, 
and  still  lecturino;  at  that  establishment. 

''  Jouy  was  my  class-fellow  at  college,"  said  this  distin- 
guished literary  veteran.  "  He  and  his  chief.  General  O'Moran, 
were  brought  prisoners  to  Paris.  I  immediately  took  measures 
to  enable  them  to  escape  from  prison  :  I  succeeded  in  respect 
of  Jouy,  but  failed  unfortunately  with  regard  to  his  brave  and 
interesting  chief  (I  always  loved  the  Irish.  I  wrote  some 
lines  on  Robert  Emmett,  which  I  presented  to  the  Emperor, 
who  approved  them  warmly,*  and  a  copy  of  which  you  will 
find  in  my  works.)     O'Moran  was  executed." 

*  They  must  have  been  wormwood  to  Napoleon,  nevertheless;  for  the 
speech  of  Robert  Emmett,  in  describing  the  conduct  of  France  "in  every 
country  through  which  she  had  pushed  her  victories,"  was  the  severest  com- 
mentary ever  uttered  with  regard  to  her  or  him. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  165 

Rescued  tlius  from  death  by  his  kind  friend  Tissot,  Jouy 
was  enabled  to  escape  through  his  aid  into  Switzerland,  and 
spent  eight  mouths  in  the  village  of  Baumgarten.  After  the 
fall  of  Robespierre  he  returned  into  France,  re-entered  the 
service,  and  was  soon  afterwards  appointed  chief  of  the  staiF 
of  the  army  in  Paris,  commanded  by  General  Menou.  On 
that  eventful  day,  the  2d  Prairial,  he  commanded  a  battalion 
of  young  men,  for  whom  he  had  procured  arms,  and  by  whom 
he  confirmed  to  the  Convention  the  triumph  it  had  gained 
over  the  Terrorists.  Nevertheless,  he  was  on  the  13th  Ven- 
d^miaire  arrested  and  dismissed  from  the  army,  for  having  en- 
tered into  conference  with  the  deputies  of  Sections  of  Paris  at 
the  camp  of  the  Trou  d'Enfer;  but  fifteen  days  afterwards, 
he  was  reinstated,  and  sent  to  Lille  to  take  the  command  of 
that  place,  where  he  had  hardly  arrived  when  he  was  again 
taken  into  custody  and  imprisoned,  under  pretext  of  corres- 
ponding with  Lord  Malmesbury,  and  conniving  with  the  Bri- 
tish ministry.  The  accusation  fell  to  the  ground,  however, 
from  its  absurdity,  and  he  was  once  more  restored  to  liberty 
and  to  his  rank.  Notwithstanding  this  amende,  disgusted  by 
this  third  persecution,  he  solicited  leave  to  retire,  and  obtained 
his  rctraite,  the  Directory  adding  a  supplementary  pension  in 
requital  of  his  services,  and  in  consideration  for  his  wound. 
At  that  period  he  was  only  thirty  years  of  age. 

IM.  Jouy  became  one  of  the  most  distinguished  dramatists 
of  France.  He  died  in  the  year  1846,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
seven,  having  been  born  in  the  year  1769,  a  year  memorable 
as  having  given  the  world  so  many  warriors,  statesmen,  and 
authors. 

To  M.  Jouy  we  are  indebted,  among  other  works,  for  the 
operas  "  La  Vestale,"  "  Fernand  Cortes,"  ''  Les  Bayaderes," 
the  tragedies  of  "  Sylla,"  in  which  Talma  was  so  great,  "  B4- 
lisaire,"  and  others.  He  was  also  the  author  of  those  admir- 
able works,  ''L'Hermite  de  la  Chauss^e  d'Antin,"  "Le  Franc 
Parleur,"  '-L'Hermite  en  Provence,"  and  many  more  of  first- 
rate  merit.  He  was  besides  one  of  the  editors  of  the  ''Cour- 
rier  Frangais"  in  its  palmy  days,  of  the  "Minerve,"  and  other 
journals. 


166  THE    IRISH 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

If  there  be  more — more  ■woful— hold  it  in, 
For  I  am  almost  ready  to  dissolve, 
Hearing  of  this. 

Lear. 

ANOTHER  distinguished  Irisliman,  of  a  different  cliaracter 
however,  and  whose  fate  was  not  similarly  unfortunate  in 
its  climax,  was  a  fellow-prisoner  of  Arthur  Dillon,  in  the  Lux- 
embourg— I  allude  to  the  British  General  0'  Hara,  late  Go- 
vernor of  Toulon,  who,  in  a  Rortle  from  that  place  against  the 
French  investing  army,  in  which  figured  Lieutenant  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  was  made  prisoner  by  Colonel  Suchet,  afterwards 
Marshal  Due  d'Albufera,  then  commanding  the  "Bataillon  de 
I'Ardeche." 

It  does  not  appear,  notwithstanding  his  being  brought  to 
Paris  and  confined  in  the  Luxembourg,  that  General  O'Hara 
had  ever  been  considered  as  other  than  a  prisoner  of  war  by 
the  French  Government  of  the  day;  but  the  thieves  and 
murderers  to  whom  the  care  of  that  prison  and  its  unhappy 
inmates  was  confided,  dealt  with  him  impartially  as  with  their 
own  countrymen  committed  to  their  pious  care.  Either  from 
natural  disposition,  gaiete  du  coeur,  such  as  that  displayed  by 
a  fellow-prisoner  of  note,  Herault  de  Sechelles  (whose  attempt 
to  embrace  Danton,  at  the  foot  of  the  seaifold,  produced  the 
terrible  hon-mot  of  that  great  criminal),  or  whether  from  a 
sense  of  security  or  mere  philosophy.  General  O'Hara  seemed 
indifferent  to  the  horrors  he  witnessed,  and  of  which  he  might 
(he  ought  to  have  known)  by  possibility  become  other  than  a 
mere  spectator. 

The  principal  jailor,  or  turnkey  of  the  Luxembourg,  was 
a  Pole,  named  Wilchiritz,  who,  in  infamy,  and  especially  in 
plundering  the  victims  intrusted  to  him,  surpassed  all  his  co- 
adjutors, administrators  of  the  Luxembourg,  and  in  that  way 
he  extended  his  attentions  to  General  O'Hara.  Having  suf- 
fered this  villain  to  rob  him  of  his  money  and  trinkets,  the 


ALllOAD    AND    AT    JIOME.  167 

_i;-eueral,  with  great  gravity  and  earnestness,  thus  addressed 
him : — 

''Brother  governor,  you  have  rifled  me  most  dexterously; 
you  have  literally  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  It  is  a  comfort 
to  have  to  do  with  men  eminent  in  their  line.  I  thank  you. 
You  can,  however,  lay  me  under  another  obligation;  relieve 
me  in  another  way."  The  ruffian  stared,  and  asked  an  expla- 
nation. "  It  is  to  beg  of  you  that  you  will  suffer  no  French- 
man to  enter  my  chamber.  It  is  a  weakness,  I  confess,  but, 
how  can  I  help  it  ?     I  cannot  conquer  it." 

On  another  occasion.  General  O'Hara,  comparing  the  de- 
grees of  liberty  enjoyed  by  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen,  de- 
monstrated it  somewhat  oddly.  ''For  instance,"  said  he,  "we 
English  may  say  with  impunity  that  George  III.  is  mad,  but 
show  me  the  Frenchman  who  dares  write  that  Robespierre  is 
a  tiger." 

Strangely  enough  they  had  for  a  fellow-prisoner,  a  Miss 
Catherine  (or  Christian)  O'Reilly.  Why  she  was  confined,  or 
how  she  escaped  death,  I  have  not  been  able  to  learn.  Proba- 
bly she  had  been  found  in  a  convent.  In  my  young  days  she 
resided  in  Francis  Court,  Francis  Street,  Dublin. 

Three  other  unfortunate  Irishmen  were  Q-uillotined  in  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution,  in  Paris,  a  day  or  two  before  or  after 
the  execution  of  Arthur  Dillon.  These  were  T.  Ward,  ex- 
provisional  General  of  Brigade  of  the  Army  of  the  North, 
born  in  Dublin  in  1749  ;  a  sailor  lad  of  seventeen  years,  named 
Burke ;  and  a  man  of  the  name  of  John  Malone ;  but  I  have 
only  been  able  to  learn  of  them  that  they  were  committed 
merely  as  "suspected  persons"  to  the  fatal  Convent  of  the 
Carmes  (Carmelites),  in  the  Rue  de  Vaugirard,  which  became 
on  the  2d  and  3d  of  September,  1792,  the  theatre  of  the  mas- 
sacre of  one  hundred  and  seventy-eight  priests  and  bishops ; 
and  that  they  were  subsequently  involved  by  the  miscreant 
public  accuser,  Fouquier-Tinville,  in  the  general  "  conspiracy 
of  the  prisons." 

Among  their  companions  in  the  Carmes,  likewise  confined 
as  suapects,  and  upon  the  scaffold,  were  some  of  the  haute 
noblesse  of  France,  including  members  of  the  families  of  Ro- 
han, Grammont,  and  d'Autichamp,  as  well  as  the  first  husband 
of  the  Empress  Josephine,  General  Alexander  Beauharnais. 

The  portion  of  the  general  massacre  of  September,  to 
which  I  have  just  alluded,  that  of  the  bishops  and  priests, 


168  THE    IRISH 

was  perhaps  the  most  appalling  of  all.  The  mode  of  the 
slaughter,  the  ■um*esisting  character  of  the  sufferers,  and  their 
affecting  resignation  and  piety,  and  their  leave-taking  of  each 
other,  while  actually  under  the  impending  club  or  sabre,  de- 
scribed to  me  by  an  eye-witness,  would  be  too  hari-owing  to 
present  to  my  readers,  who  will  have  found  more  than  enough 
of  it  in  Prudhomme,  Thiers,  and  Lamartine. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1822,  I  found  myself  in  pre- 
sence of  one  of  the  miscreants  most  active  in  that  slaughter, 
and  of  a  spectator  of  his  crimes.  I  had  gone  to  see  a  friend 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  G-ermain,  an  Irishman,  who  had  served 
in  the  French  army.  While  in  conversation  with  him,  an 
old  man  entered  the  apartment  with  a  pair  of  boots  in  his 
hand,  which  he  had  repaired  for  my  friend.  He  was  followed 
by  the  porter  of  the  house,  who,  however,  remained  on  the 
landing-place,  observing  the  shoemaker,  with  no  friendly  eye. 
Having  received  his  money,  the  latter  took  his  leave.  The 
porter  looked  at  him  with  undisguised  abhorrence  as  he  passed 
him,  and  following  him  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  remained 
there,  regarding  him  as  he  descended.  When  the  sound  of 
the  closing  of  the  gate  was  heard,  the  porter  entered  the 
apartment  with  all  that  easy  familiarity  for  which  his  class  is 
renowned,  and  observed  to  my  friend  : — 

"  Ah,  Colonel !  if  you  knew  that  man  as  well  as  I  do,  you 
would  not  employ  him  !" 

''  Why  not  ?" 

"  He  is  a  monster !  I  saw  him  knock  the  brains  cut  of 
eleven  priests  at  the  Carmes,  on  the  2d  of  September,  1792, 
with  his  hammer !" 

MacCurtin,  Deputy  to  the  National  Assembly,  and  after- 
wards to  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred,  escaped  better  than 
his  countrymen,  or  descendants  of  Irishmen,  I  have  mentioned. 
He  was  an  enthusiastic  loyalist,  and  served  with  the  Chouans 
under  a  nom  de  guerre  (Kinles,  say  the  French  records)  in 
the  quality  of  Major-General  of  Upper  Brittany  and  of  Lower 
Anjou.  When,  after  the  18th  Fructidor,  the  list  of  persons 
to  be  transported  was  under  consideration,  his  name  was  jDro- 
nounced.  Nobody  knew  anything  about  him.  ''  No  matter  !" 
said  one  of  the  committee  engaged  in  the  work,  "he  has  been 
a  member  of  the  party  of  Cliehy.  Let  him  go  with  the 
rest!"  He  was  recalled  by  the  Consuls  in  1800,  bu.t  never 
re-appeared  on  the  political  scene. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME,  169 

Charles  Edward  Frederick  Henry  Macdonald,  of  an  illus- 
trious faniily  of  Scotland,  commanded,  in  1792,  the  60th  regi- 
ment of  iut'autry.  He  was  denounced  and  imprisoned  as  a 
suspected  person,  and  was  guillotined  twelve  days  before  the 
fall  of  Robespierre. 

I  find  that  several  English  of  both  sexes  preceded  Arthur 
Dillon  as  prisoners  in  the  Luxembourg.  Of  these  the  most 
remarkable  was  Thomas  Paine.  Having  incurred  prosecution 
by  the  Attorney-General  of  England,  for  his  celebrated 
"  Eights  of  Man,"  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  withdraw  with 
his  republicanism  to  France  in  1791,  where  he  was  received 
with  open  arms,  and  elected  a  Deputy  to  the  Convention  for 
the  department  of  the  Pas  de  Calais.  Upon  Paine's  princi- 
ples various  opinions  were  and  will  bo  held ;  but  there  was 
unanimit}^  on  one  point — one  which  covers  a  multitude  of  sins 
where  they  co-exist — his  humanity.  Not  only  did  he  vote 
for  the  banishment  only  of  Louis  XVI.,  but  published  his 
motives  for  it  in  an  appeal  for  a  reconsideration  of  the  capital 
sentence.  To  this  circumstance,  and  his  celebrity  as  a  demo- 
crat, probably  he  owed  the  mortal  hatred  of  Robespierre,  who 
doomed  him  to  the  scaffold,  committing  him  as  a  preliminary 
step  to  the  Luxembourg.  The  American  citizens  in  Paris, 
however,  and  among  them  my  late  respected  friend,  Mr.  Mi- 
chael O'Maley,  who  had  known  Paiue  in  the  United  States, 
determined  that  he  should  not  perish  without  an  effort.  They 
met  accordingl}',  and  resolved  to  send  a  petition  to  the  Con- 
vention for  his  release,  and  named  a  deputation,  of  whom 
O'Maley  was  one,  to  present  it.  "  When  we  arrived  at  the 
Salle  de  la  Convention,"  said  Mr.  O'Maley,  "we  found  Dan- 
ton  in  the  presidental  chair.  He  received  us  with  courtesy, 
undertook  that  the  Convention  should  entertain  our  petition, 
and  invited  us  to  'the  honours  of  the  sitting.'  In  conse- 
quence, I  had  the  singular  fortune  of  being  seated  during  two 
or  three  hours  beside  that  extraordinary  man,  and  notwith- 
standing his  ugliness  could  not  avoid  admiring  his  masculine 
eloquence,  his  tact,  and  decision." 

The  petition  produced  no  positive  good  effect,  however. 
The  Dictator  rarely,  if  ever,  rescinded  a  resolution  when  once 
taken,  no  matter  the  amount  of  civisme,  or  of  talent,  displayed 
by  his  victims  previously  to  their  attracting  his  enmity.  Of 
this  Danton  himself  had  fatal  experience  a  few  months  after- 
wards, as  we  have  shown.  Paine  remained  in  prison  until,  I 
8 


170  THE    IRISH 

think,  the  fall  of  the  tyrant,  who,  without  avowing  it,  admitted 
probably  that  it  might  be  inconvenient  to  add  America  to  the 
other  enemies  of  the  French  Republic,  by  the  immolation  of 
one  of  her  citizens. 

On  entering  the  palace  (prison)  of  the  Luxembourg,  toge- 
ther with  Camille-Desmoulins,  Lacroix,  and  Philipeaux,  Dan- 
ton  perceived  a  crowd  of  prisoners  ready  to  receive  them,  and 
among  others,  Paine.  Addressing  him,  Danton  said:  "That 
which  you  did  for  the  happiness  and  the  liberty  of  your  coun- 
try (America),  I  have  in  vain  attempted  for  mine.  I  have 
been  less  fortunate,  but  not  more  culpable." 

It  was  in  the  prison  of  the  Luxembourg  that  Paine  com- 
pleted (and,  if  the  pun  were  not  a  vile  one,  I  would  apply  it 
to  himself)  his  "  Age  of  Keason ;"  for  I  have  heard  little  of 
him  after  his  release,  in  Paris,  except  of  his  libations  (his  con- 
stant custom  of  an  afternoon)  and  his  theological  disputations 
with  a  good-natured,  jovial  Irish  Catholic  clergyman,  Father 
Gannon,  who  had  conceived  the  extraordinary  idea  of  re-con- 
verting him  to  Christianity.  The  theatre  of  these  scenes  was 
the  Cafe  de  Londres,  a  coffee-house  of  the  second  order,  which 
still  exists  in  the  Eue  Jacob,  then  much  frequented  by  the 
Irish  and  English  residents  of  Paris. 

Robespierre  could  bear  no  rival  near  the  popular  throne. 
To  evince  or  profess  enthusiastic  republicanism,  he  tolerated 
in  none  but  himself.  Paine  had  thus  insured  to  himself  the 
hatred  of  this  (with  M.  Thiers'  leave),  the  most  atrocious 
miscreant  that  has  ever  polluted  the  earth.  A  similar  pre- 
tension in  one  much  more  rabid,  J.  B.  (Anacharsis)  Cloots, 
the  self-styled  ''  orator  of  the  human  race,"  procured  for  him 
the  vengeance  of  the  monster,  who  sent  him  to  the  scaffold 
three  weeks  before  Arthur  Dillon,  under  a  charge  of  partici- 
pating in  the  crimes  of  Hubert,  but  not  without  suspicion  that 
the  immaculate  Robespierre  was  partly  moved  thereto  by  the 
unhappy  Prussian's  vast  wealth. 

Mr.  O' Malay,  whom  I  have  just  mentioned,  was  in  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution  on  the  arrival  there  of  Cloots,  Hebert, 
Vincent,  Ronsin,  and  their  sixteen  companions  in  misfortune. 
As  usual,  the  cart  containing  the  condemned,  which  passed 
close  to  Mr.  O'Maley,  was  followed  or  accompanied  by  a  crowd 
of  hideous  vagabonds,  paid  to  revile  them,  and  so  to  give  to 
their  execution  the  character  of  popular  vengeance.  Hebert 
and  Cloots,  persons  of  a  very  opposite  stamp  (for  Hubert  was 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  171 

one  of  the  blackest  villains  of  the  Revolution,  and  Cloots 
only  a  crazy  republican),  were  especially  the  objects  of  the 
outrages  of  this  atrocious  escort.  In  order  to  attract  purchas- 
ers, the  hawkers  of  Hubert's  newspaper,  "  Pfere  Duchesne," 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  vaunting  the  violence  of  its  contents 

in  this  way  :  "  Le  Pere  Duchesne  est  b en  colore  aujour- 

d'hui"  (Pere  Duchesne  is  very  mad  to-day).  This  expression 
they  dinned  into  the  ears  of  the  unhappy  and  guilty  wretch 
throughout  the  whole  of  his  journey,  from  the  Conciergerie 
to  the  scaifold.  On  the  other  hand,  shouts  of  ridicule  of  his 
ultra-republicanism  greeted  Cloots,  which  were  usually  summed 
up  with  "  Vive  la  liberty  I" 

"  Ah,  has  \"  said  Cloots,  regarding  them  with  contempt. 
"  You  know  not  what  liberty  is,  and  are  unworthy  of  it." 

I  shall  close  this  sad  list  by  mentioning  that  the  respected 
Abbe  John  Baptist  O'Ryan,  cwc  (parish  priest)  of  Loix,  in 
the  department  of  the  Lower  Charente,  was  condemned  to 
death  and  executed  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  1794  (16th 
Pluviose,  An.  II.),  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  sitting  at 
Bordeaux. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Ne  sutor  ultra  crepiJaiu. 

THE  incomprehensible  practice  of  deputing  men  utterly 
ignorant  of  military  matters,  such  as  frantic  demagogues, 
journalists,  or  pamphleteers,  to  represent  the  people  with  the 
army,  ay,  and  the  fleet,  has  been  often  noticed,  condemned, 
and  ridicided  by  the  historians  of  the  first  Revolution.  Un- 
fortunately, in  the  more  recent  Revolution  of  1848,  this 
practice  was  imitated  in  a  singular  manner,  as  we  shall  observe 
presently. 

Those  commissaires  were  at  once  spies,  informers,  and 
tyrants ;  and  their  doings  with  the  army  produced  terrible 
results.  To  their  ignorance,  malevolence,  and  audacity  were 
due  the  loss  of  some  battles  of  importance,  and  the  removal 
from  the  French  army  in  consequence  of  their  denunciations 
(and  the  subsequent  trial    condemnation  and  death),  of  many 


172  THE    IRISH 

Frencli  general  oflScers  of  distinctioa ;  among  others,  of  Cus- 
tine,  Westermann,  Houchard,  as  well  as  our  two  gallant  coun- 
trymen, Dillon  and  O'Moran.  Those  appointments  were  at 
once  injurious,  absurd,  and  impolitic. 

In  the  anxiety  of  the  republican  journalists  and  pamphlet- 
eers, who  to  their  astonishment  found  themselves  at  the  head 
of  the  Provisional  Government  in  the  spring  of  1848  to  pro- 
vide not  only  for  their  immediate  friends,  but  for  all  who  had 
assisted  in  the  recent  Revolution,  or  who  had  previously  suf- 
fered persecution  for  their  opinions  or  revolutionary  practices, 
some  difficulty  and  embarrassment  was  occasionally  felt — such 
as  that  of  the  Irish  viceroy,  who,  having  nothing  vacant  with 
which  to  endow  the  daughter  of  that  irresistible  solicitor, 
Hely  Hutchinson,  Provost  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  ap- 
pointed her  to  a  troop  of  dragoons.* 

Coolness,  self-respect,  and  self-reliance  seldom  desert  a 
Frenchman.  He  is  rarely  diffident.  If  it  were  possible  to 
exchange  the  wooden  implement  of  a  drummer  for  the  hdton 
of  a  Marshal  of  France,  he  would,  with  the  most  profound 
gravity  and  confidence,  assume  the  dignity  and  its  charge  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  should  say — ''this  is  all  right,  and  as  it 
should  be.     This  is  my  place." 

To  the  difficulty  of  M.  Armand  Marrast,  M.  Bastide,  and 
their  colleagues  of  the  Provisional  Government,  to  find  posi- 
tions for  their  friends  or  associates,  was  due  no  doubt  the  fol- 
lowing bizarre  ajipointment,  but  for  which  I  shall  cite  presently 
a  celebrated  precedent. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1848,  I  was  honoured  with  a  visit 
from  an  illustrious  foreign  general  officer.  The  situation  of 
public  affairs  was,  of  course,  the  subject  of  our  conversation. 
A  stanch  stickler  for  the  hierarchy  of  the  sword,  the  General 

*  I  do  not  vouch  for  the  correctness  of  this  fact,  but  I  have  heard  it — 
fifty  years  ago — so  often  and  always  uncontradicted — that  I  accepted  it  for 
truth.  The  insatiable  voracity  of  the  worthy  Provost  for  place  and  pension 
was  such  as  to  provoke  one  who  knew  him  well,  to  say — "  Give  Hutchinson 
Ireland  for  an  estate,  and  he'll  ask  you  to  add  to  it  the  Isle  of  Man  for  a 
cabbage  garden." 

The  Provost  left  ten  children,  all — in  one  shape  or  other — pensioners  of 
the  state,  including  Richard,  the  iirst  Earl  of  Donoughmore,  and  John,  who 
succeeded  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie  in  the  command  of  the  British  Army  at 
Alexandria,  when  the  latter  was  mortally  wounded  in  action  with  the 
French,  on  the  21st  March,  ISOl ;  and  honest  "  Kitt  Hutchinson,"  for  many 
years  M.  P.  for  the  city  of  Cork. 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  173 

condemned  the  proceedings  of  the  Provisional  Government  to- 
wards the  army  in  indignant  terms. 

"I  travelled  to-day,"  said  he,  "in  the  railroad  train  from 
Valenciennes  to  Lille,  in  company  with  the  colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment of  engineers,  and  the  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  artilleiy, 
in  garrison  at  the  former  place.  They  were  furious.  They 
and  their  regiments  (of  engineers  and  artillery,  mark  I)  had 
that  morning  been  reviewed  by — whom  do  you  think  ? — the 
editor  of  the  '  Charivari  !'  sent  on  that  special  service  by  his 
contemporaries  of  the  press  who  figure  in  the  Provisional 
Government  I" 

One  remarkable  instance  of  the  ajjplication  of  this  system 
to  the  navy  presents  itself,  as  I  have  just  hinted,  in  the  nomi- 
nation of  Citizen  Jean  Bon  St.  Andre,  to  be  "  Commissaire 
de  la  Ropublique  aupres  la  Flotte  de  Brest,''  commanded  by 
Admiral  Villaret  Joyeuse,  which  took  place  in  the  month  of 
May,  1794.  It  would  be  a  bull  to  term  this  a  lai/  nomination, 
for  Jean  Bon  St.  Andre  had  been  during  the  fifteen  preceding 
years  a  Protestant  clergyman ;  but  the  ridiculousness  of  the 
appointment  is  only  strengthened  by  that  circumstance. 

Jean  Bon  St.  Andre  was  forty  years  old  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Revolution,  and  became  at  once  one  of  its  most 
ardent  partisans.  His  republicanism  knew  no  bounds.  He 
not  only  voted  for  the  death  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI., 
but,  in  order  that  the  condemnation  of  the  monarch  should  not 
be  reconsidered  or  revised,  successfully  opposed  the  proposi- 
tion of  an  appeal  to  the  people,  which  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  would  have  saved  the  unhappy  King's  life.  He 
testified  similar  violent  animosity  with  respect  to  "  the  Giron- 
dins,"  by  supporting  Robespierre  in  his  deadly  and  persever- 
ing hatred  of  that  party,  and  especially  of  Brissot,  its  chief; 
and  having  been  the  mover  for  the  admission  of  Robespierre 
into  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  was  about  to  experience 
the  Dictator's  gratitude. 

Jean  Bon  St.  Andre  received  without  surprise,  and  ac- 
cepted without  hesitation,  from  his  friend  Robespierre,  his 
appointment  as  Commissary  of  the  Republic  at  Brest,  with 
instructions  to  have  the  fleet  manned  and  provisioned,  and  in 
every  respect  prepared  for  a  cruise,  with  the  least  jwssible 
delay.     He  left  Paris  that  night. 

On  his  arrival  at  Brest  he  found  the  fleet  in  a  deplorable 
condition ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  spare  expense  of  any 


174  THE    IRISH 

kind  in  promoting  the  interests  confided  to  him.  Invested 
-n-ith  absolute  authority,  and  being  full  of  energy,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  fleet  organized,  manned,  provisioned, 
and  in  every  respect  ready  to  put  to  sea,  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time ;  and  reported  that  fact  by  telegraph  to 
Eobespierre.  By  the  same  medivim,  he  received  instantane- 
ously an  order  for  the  immediate  sailing  of  the  fleet,  and  for 
his  own  embarkation  in  it,  in  order  to  stimulate  and  control 
the  Admiral  in  any  and  every  respect,  and  in  short  to  direct 
all  its  movements  for  attaining  the  object  in  view — namely, 
the  arrival  of  a  convoy  of  corn  and  flour  from  that  refuge  for 

the  destitute — America,  expected  '"to  arrive  in  all  May " 

France  at  that  period  labouring  under  an  accumulation  of 
afflictions  unexampled  in  the  history  of  nations — foreign  war, 
domestic  tyranny,  massacre,  rapine,  and  famine  I 

With  this  order  Jean  Bon  St.  Andre  complied ;  and  going 
forthwith  on  board  the  Admiral's  ship,  he  gave  his  commands, 
and  with  sad  forebodings  Yillaret  Joyeuse  signalled  the  fleet 
to  put  to  sea.  In  another  hour  they  were  "  hull  down"  to 
the  inhabitants  of  Brest. 

It  would  appear  that  all  was  plain-sailing  with  the  French 
squadron  until  the  28th  of  3Iay,  when  there  "struggled  into 
sight,"  first  one,  then  in  succession  some  twenty  or  thirty 
vessels,  which  were  very  soon  ascertained  to  be  a  fleet  of 
British  men-of-war,  the  leading  ship  bearing  the  pennant  of 
Lord  Howe.  The  citizen  ex-parson  was  in  transports,  and 
gave  orders  to  engage.  The  crews  caught  his  enthusiasm, 
and  made  the  air  ring  with  "  Yive  la  Republique  !''  The 
Admiral,  despatched  on  a  special  mission,  did  not,  however, 
participate  in  this  effervescence.  Famine  was  raging  in 
France;  to  facilitate  the  arrival  of  supplies,  he  had  been 
ordered  to  put  to  sea — not  to  seek  laui'els,  which  the  reputa- 
tion of  Lord  Howe  did  not  justify  him  in  believing  too  easy 
of  acquisition.  He  was,  however,  a  brave  and  experienced 
seaman ;  and  notwithstanding  the  mortifying  control  to  which 
he  was  subjected,  he  submitted  to  it,  and  resolved  to  do  his 
duty. 

After  a  variety  of  manoeuvres,  the  two  fleets  came  to  action 
on  the  1st  of  June,  1794,  which  resulted  in  the  memorable 
victory  of  Lord  Howe.  31.  Thiers  thinks,  however,  that  not- 
withstanding "the  superiority  of  the  English  in  ships,"  victory 
would  have  been  on  the  side  of  the  French,  but  for  the  inci- 


ABROAD    AKD    AT    HOME.  175 

vility  of  Lord  Howe,  who,  in  taking  tto  weather-gauge,  may 
be  said  to  have  taken  the  wall  of  his  gallant  adversaries,  Vil- 
laret  Joyeusc  and  Jean  Bon  St.  Andr6 — a  solecism  in  good 
breeding,  imitated,  with  aggravating  circumstances,  by  Nelson 
with  regard  to  Admiral  Brueys,  off  Aboukir,  where,  not  con- 
fining himself  to  a  similar  discourtesy.  Nelson  literally  forced 
his  way  inside  the  brave  but  unfortunate  Frenchman  ! 

This  species  of  proceeding  on  the  part  of  seamen  might 
perhaps  be  excused,  because  of  their  general  notorious  negli- 
gence of  the  convenances  on  such  occasions ;  but  unhappily 
it  would  appear  that  English  landsmen  sometimes  similarly 
forget  themselves.  I  pray  indulgence  for  a  digression  in  ex- 
emplification. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Lupus  pilos  non  animum  mutat. 

Autant  les  peuplea  modernes  Temportent  en  politesse  sur  les  peuples 
anciens,  autaut  les  Franpais  sont  superieurs  sous  ce  rapport  S.  toutes  les 
nations  de  I'Europe. 

M.  C.  De  Mery. 

YOILA  le  j)'>'ogres !  How  dift'erently  war  is  carried  on  in 
these  degenerate  days,  from  the  mode  practised  at  the 
field  of  Fontenoy,  when  an  officer  of  the  body  guard,  stopping 
in  front  of  the  army  and  taking  oft"  his  hat,  "begged  Messieurs 
de  la  Garde  du  Roi  de  I'Angleterre  to  have  the  kindness  to 
begin." 

I  had  written  the  preceding  lament  on  departed  militaiy 
courtesy  when  I  recollected  that  within  these  forty  years  there 
occurred  (in  the  Peninsular  War),  not  merely  on  a  field  of 
l/..ttle,  but  in  a  charge  of  cavalry,  an  instance  of  French  po- 
liteness, gallantry,  and  bravery  (for  the  act  partook  of  all  these 
(jualities),  which  proved  that  the  race  had  not  become  dete- 
riorated. 

I  was  endeavouring  to  recollect  the  particulars  in  order  to 
quote  them,  when  the  London  newspapers  of  the  16th  of  June, 
1852,  reached  me.  Lord  Pahnerston,  in  his  speech  in  the 
House  of  Commons  on  the  preceding  night,  on  the  subject  of 


176  THE    IRISH 

the  cowardly  and  brutal  attack  by  some  A'astrian  officers  at 
Florence  upon  a  young  Englishman  named  3Iathei',  cited  the 
precise  case  of  gallantry  and  generosity,  performed  during  a 
charge  of  cavalry,  about  which  I  was  solicitous  to  know,  the 
facts. 

"Many  of  us,"  said  Lord  Palmerston,  ''knew  the  brave 
Colonel  Harvey,  who  had  lost  his  arm  in  an  engagement.  He 
served  in  the  Peninsular  war,  mutilated  as  he  was,  and  in 
leading  his  regiment  in  a  battle  during  a  melee,  a  French  ofii- 
cer  rode  up  to  him  and  was  going  to  cut  him  down,  but  observ- 
ing that  his  opponent  had  only  one  arm,  he  dropped  the  point 
of  his  uplifted  sabre  on  Colonel  Han-ey's  shoulder,  bowed, 
and  rode  on  to  seek  an  adversary  with  whom  he  could  contcud 
on  more  equal  terms. 

''That,  sir,"  continued  his  Lordship,  addressing  the  Speak- 
er, "that,  sir,  is  French  courage."  In  contradistinction  to  the 
conduct  of  two  armed  Austrians,  with  a  regiment  at  their  back, 
in  respect  of  an  unarmed  English  youth. 

His  Lord.ship  then  proceeded  to  exemplify  the  nature  of 
English  courage  by  referring  to  the  case  of  a  butcher,  with  a 
knife  in  his  hand,  who  was  struck  by  a  man  violently,  and 
whom  the  butcher  reproached  in  terms  like  these  :  "  Coward  ! 
you  chose  your  moment  when,  seeing  a  knife  in  my  hand,  you 
knew  I  could  not  return  your  blow !" 

There  is  little  exaggeration  in  the  compliment  quoted  from 
M.  de  Mery  to  our  gallant  neighbours,  his  countiymen,  in  the 
motto  to  this  chapter.  Nobody  who  has  lived,  or  even  tra- 
velled, in  France  will  deny  to  them  the  exercise  of  ])olitesse 
par  excellence.  In  the  instance  mentioned  by  Lord  Palmers- 
ton,  it  reached  the  sublime.  Un  revanche  et  pour  m' amuser, 
may  I  here  introduce  a  proof  of  the  correctness  of  Napoleon's 
dictum :  "  From  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  there  is  but 
one  step." 

One  day  in  the  month  of  September,  1822,  I  obtained 
from  an  esteemed  friend  and  countryman,  the  late  Mr.  Daniel 
Bailey  "Warden,  for  many  j-ears  the  respected  consul  of  the 
United  States  at  Paris,  a  ticket  of  admission  to  the  sitting  of 
the  Institute  (of  which  learned  body  he  was  a  corresponding 
member),  and  repaired  thither  accompanied  by  a  friend.  We 
found,  on  our  arrival,  that  the  doors  had  only  just  been  opened, 
and  that  the  crowd  of  visiters  extended  from  the  Salle  of  the 
sittings  (on  the  first  floor)  down  the  staircase  and  far  into  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  177 

hall  below.     We   placed  ourselves,  therefore,  at  "the  tail/' 
waiting  our  turn  to  commence  the  ascent. 

As  usual  at  all  public  places,  a  soldier  was  stationed  in  the 
hall  to  keep  order.  He  was  under  the  direction  of  an  unmis- 
takeable  ci-devant  emigrant — a  man  of  at  least  seventy — with 
powdered  head  and  *■' ailes  de  pigeon,"  and  eke  an  embroidered 
full  dress  coat  and  sword.  He  was  evidently  delighted  with 
his  position,  and  walked  slowly  and  with  a  self-satisfied  air,  up 
and  down  the  hall,  communing  smilingly  and  complacently 
with  himself : 

And  twixt  his  finger  and  his  thumb  he  held 
A  pouncet  box,  which  ever  and  anon, 
He  gave  his  nose,  and  took't  away  again — 
Who,  therewith  angry,  when  it  nest  came  there 
Tooli  it  in  snuff — and  still  ho  smil'd  and  talk'd. 

At  length,  observing  that  the  staircase  remained  filled,  he 
called  upon  the  soldier  (a  young  grenadier  of  the  Garde  Roy- 
ale)  to  make  the  people  ascend. 

''  I  have  requested  them  to  do  so  several  times,"  said  the 
young  fellow. 

''  Ask  them  again. ^' 

The  soldier  repeated  his  request,  but  observing  that  we 
could  not  comply,  resumed  his  walk.  "Why  don't  you  make 
those  people  ascend  the  staircase  ?"  demanded  the  now  petulant 
old  man  in  office. 

"I  have  asked  them  repeatedly,  and  they  say  they  cannot." 

"Force  them." 

"They  repeat  that  they  cannot." 

"Then  charge  ihem,"  said  the  courtier,  turning  on  his  heel 
while  taking  a  pinch,  ^^  charge  them — but — do  it  politely." 

A  late  distinguished  and  lamented  friend,  Mr.  Thomas 
Barnes  (^' the"  Barnes),  was  told  by  General  Foy  that  when, 
during  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  in  spite  of  the  terrible  fire  of 
the  British  Guards,  he  had  penetrated  at  the  head  of  a  body 
of  grenadiers  within  the  walls  of  Hougoumont,  he  was  struck 
by  "the  atrociously  ferocious  aspect  of  the  English  soldiers 
in  rising  to  receive  them"  (for  those  not  actually  fighting  were, 
by  orders,  lying  on  the  ground). 

"They  seemed  to  have  been  impatient  of  their  prostrate 
position,"  said  the  general  (Foy),  "for  they  started  up  on  our 
entrance  to  expel  us.     I  shall  never  forget  their  expression 
of  countenance  at  that  momeut  I     It  was  that  of  demons  !" 
8^!= 


178  THE    IRISH 

"That  is  odd!"  said  Barnes;  ''for  when  one  meets  them 
in  Westminster,  they  appear  quiet,  good-natured  looking 
fellows." 

"Oh!  that's  another  matter!"  replied  the  general;  and 
there  the  conversation  ended. 

"1  suppose,"  said  Barnes,  when  relating  this  anecdote — 
"I  suppose  the  general  thought  our  guardsmen  ought  to  have 
greeted  the  intruders  with 

'•■  'Nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles,' 

and  ofters  of  hospitality." 

Comparison  between  the  splendidly  chivali'ous  act  of  the 
Frenchman,  who  not  only  spared  the  life  of  Colonel  Harvey, 
but  saluted  him  en  passcnit,  and  the  species  of  reception  given 
to  the  troops  of  General  Foy  on  entering  within  the  precincts 
of  Hougoumont  by  its  then  occupants,  and  who  might  be  con- 
sidered chez  eux — comparison  between  these,  I  say,  would  be 
disadvantageous  to  the  British  guards,  but — as  General  Foy 
said  to  Mr.  Barnes — the  circumstances  were  not  the  same. 
"  John  Bull"  has  his  faults,  but  he  is  a  manly  fellow,  and 
loves  beyond  most  things  fair  fighting.  In  exemplification 
Lord  Palmerston  might  have  added  the  following  little  anec- 
dote, which  now  for  the  first  time  gets  into  type. 

At  the  moment  when,  on  the  14th  of  October,  1797,  the 
British  fleet  under  Admiral  Duncan,  and  the  Dutch  fleet  com- 
manded by  Admiral  de  Winter,  were  about  to  engage,  two 
sailors  passing  by  Admiral  Duncan's  cabin,  saw  him  on  his 
knees. 

"My  eyes!  Jack,"  exclaimed  one;  "what  is  the  Admiral 
about  there  ?" 

"Praying  to  Heaven,"  I'eplied  the  other. 

"  Praying  for  what  ?" 

"  That  the  Lord  give  us  victory." 

"  Well  now  !  that's  a shame.     We  are well  able 

to  lick  them  ourselves.     Besides,  give  the  beggars  a  chance." 

Jack  is  an  odd  and  an  honest  fellow  at  the  same  time.  The 
cardinal  virtues  of  Lord  Nelson — "  Fear  God,  love  the  King, 
hate  the  French," — were  without  hesitation  or  cavilling  adopted 
by,  and  governed  the  political  sentiments  of  every  man  in  the 
fleet,  be  his  religion  what  it  might.  Of  this,  and  of  an 
Irishman's  orthodoxy,  poor  Basil  Hall  gave  the  following 
illustration : — 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOJIE.  179 

lie  was  ou  service  on  tho  Aniericaii  Lakes  some  five-and- 
thirty  years  since,  and  being  at  Montreal  one  Sunday  forenoon 
about  eleven  o'clock,  lie  met  an  Irish  sailor,  rolling  about 
cutting  sections  with  wonderful  gravity.    As  he  passed  Captain 
Hall,  the  man  touched  his  hat.     The  latter  turned  round  and 
said : — 

''  How  comes  it,  sir,  that  you  are  not  at  church  ?" 

"  Catholic,  your  honour"  (with  another  touch  of  the 
nor' wester). 

''  A  Catholic  ?  very  well.  That  is  a  Catholic  church 
yonder,  and  the  clergyman  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  Beggar's  a  Frenchman  !  your  honour." 

Dead  beat,  poor  Hall  was  obliged  to  sheer  off  without 
speaking,  and  convulsed  with  suppressed  laughter. 

Foreigners  nevertheless  charge  British  sailors  with  hypo- 
cris}'.  The  sentiment  conveyed  by  the  following  lines  of  the 
old  sea-song,  is  frequently  considered  by  them  as  bombast  and 
with  incredulity : — 

"  Jlark  the  last  broadside,  my  boys  ! 

Sho  sinks — down  she  goes. 
Quick  !  man  all  your  boats,  my  boys, 

They're  no  longer  your  foes. 
For  to  save  a  brave  fellow 

From  a  watery  grave, 
Is  worthy  of  Britons, 

Who  but  conquer  to  save." 

The  British  sailor,  aud  indeed  your  real  sailor  of  any  nation, 
is  a  noble  fellow,  humane  as  he  is  brave.  Nevertheless  ex- 
ception was  taken  to  the  rule  on  a  remarkable  occasion  by  a 
Turk. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  last  cannon-shot  was  fired  in  the 
"  untoward  event"  which  took  place  in  Navarino  Bay,  on  the 
20th  of  October,  1827,  a  boat,  manned  by  English  seamen, 
under  the  command  of  a  lieutenant,  took  on  board  the  surviv- 
ing commandant  of  the  unfortunate  Turkish  fleet,  to  convey 
him  on -board  Sir  Edward  Codrington's  ship.  As  the  boat 
was  steered  through  floating  wreck  and  dead  bodies,  she 
passed  at  a  short  distance  the  bowsprit  of  one  of  the  vessels 
which  had  been  blown  up,  and  on  which  three  Turks  still  held 
on,  while  in  their  own  language  they  said  something  which 
the  English  ofi&cer  was  at  no  loss  to  understand.  The  coxswain 
looked  at  him.     He  nodded,  and  in  a  moment  afterwards  the 


180  THE    IRISH 

boat  was  seen  cleaving  the  waves,  approaching  the  drowning 
or  nearly  eshausted  Turks,  whom  they  took  on  board,  and 
treated  with  kindness.  At  this,  the  Turkish  Admiral  from 
the  sternsheets  burst  into  a  loud  peal  of  laughter. 

''Why  do  you  laugh?"  asked  the  English  officer,  through 
a  Greek  interpreter,  by  whom  he  was  accompanied. 

"  At  your  mock  humanity,"  replied  the  Turk.  "  Only  two 
hours  since  we  were  lying  at  anchor  here  peacefully — inoffen- 
sively. You  chose  to  enter  the  bay,  and  we  permitted  it,  for 
we  could  not  believe  the  treachery  you  meditated.  See  what  we 
are  now !"  said  he  (pointing  with  his  hand  to  the  remains  of 
the  superb  Turkish  fleet,  portions  of  which  were  still  burning)  ; 
"  and,"  he  added,  with  bitter  scorn,  "  you  pretend  to  feel  for 
these  worthless  wretches  whom  you  yourselves  brought  to  the 
door  of  death,  while  you  slaughtered  without  provocation 
thousands  of  their  unoffending  comrades  !" 

The  charge  made  by  the  Turk  on  the  policy  in  which  the 
battle  of  Navarino  originated,  was  however  more  specious  than 
just.  The  severest  censure  pronounced  upon  it  was  by  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  in  the  phrase  just  quoted — in  calling  it 
"an  untoward  event."  As  usual,  the  sagacious  Irishman 
was  right.  The  affair  was  a  master-stroke  of  Russian  policy, 
with  a  view  to  the  partition  of  Turkey,  and  the  ultimate  (con- 
sequent) conquest  of  India. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  better  part  of  valour  is  discretion. 

2d  Part,  Eenry  IV. 

My  starboard  leg  I  lost  in  battle  soon, 

Under  Earl  Howe  on  the  glorious  first  of  June. 

Old  Son  J. 

'  E  left  Jean  Bon  St.  Andre  carried  away  by  the  general 
.  .  enthusiasm,  and  giving  orders  to  attack  Lord  Howe. 
When,  however,  that  old  fox  sloped  down  on  "  La  Montague," 
and  poured  in  broadside  after  broadside,  "it  was  different." 
"  Availing  himself  of  a  scratch,  as  an  excuse  for  quitting  the 
deck,"  say  his  own  historians,  "  Jean  Bon   St.  Andre  "went 


w 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  181 

below,  and  remained  there  during  the  engagement;"  as,  in 
similar  circumstances,  did  Egalite,  some  years  before. 

Upon  the  conduct  of  Lord  Howe,  on  the  1st  of  June, 
1794,  which  M.  Thiers  seems  to  consider  as  uncourteous,  I 
may  be  allowed  to  observe,  in  extenuation  (if  it  require  ex- 
tenuation), that  he  must  have  been  comforted  and  abetted  in 
it  by  the  captains  of  his  fleet,  whom  he  had  assembled  before 
the  action  ;  moreover,  this  charge  is  inconsistent  with  the  mild- 
ness, gentleness,  modesty,  politeness,  and  forbearance  (if  one 
may  judge  of  the  sack  by  the  sample),  of  the  sea  captains  of 
that  day.  Of  two  only  of  those  gallant  men  have  I  had  par- 
ticular information,  and  it  came  to  me  from  persons  who  knew 
them  well.  These  two  were  Captain  (afterwai'ds  Sir  A.)  Ball, 
and  Captain  the  Honourable  (afterwards  Sir)  Thomas  Packen- 
ham,  each  of  them  a  sea  Chesterfield. 

''  Poor  Tom !"  His  crew  was  composed  exclusively  of 
Irishmen.  His  manners  were  very  pleasing,  and  his  affability 
remarkable.  In  his  intercourse  with  his  crew,  he  showed  vast 
good-nature ;  a  quality  imitated  by  his  nephew-in-law,  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  I  suppose,  although,  the  instances  on 
record  of  it  are  said  to  be  rather  rare.  For  example,  Captain 
Packenham  one  day  ordered  a  dozen  to  be  administered  to  a 
*'  Liberty  Boy,"  named  Casey.  The  recipient  thought  the 
captain  parsimonious,  but  not  worth  complaining  about ;  he 
therefore,  when  "  cast  olF,"  approached  his  officer  with  an  air 
of  reproach  certainly,  but  with  outstretched  hand,  said : 
"  Never  mind,  Tom  ;  that  shan't  break  squares  between  us." 

''  Nor  the  next,"  said  Tom.     "  Give  him  another  dozen  !" 

During  the  battle  of  the  1st  of  June,  Packenham's  ship 
was  engaged  with  a  powerful  adversary.  By  Tom's  side,  on 
the  poop,  stood  an  intelligent,  ingenuous  Middy,  of  some  dozen 
years,  whose  attention  was  divided  between  his  restless  chief 
and  the  incidents  of  the  fight.  Having  come  recently  from 
school,  and  Tom's  theory  not  prohibiting  knowledge  of  the 
French  language  once  acquired,  the  boy  was  selected  in  order 
to  interpret  for  his  officer  any  expression  on  board  the  enemy's 
ships  which  might  reach  him  between  the  broadsides. 

The  "  Queen  Charlotte"  was  hailed  by  her  antagonist,  to- 
wards the  middle  of  the  en2;a2;ement. 

"What  does  that  fellow  say?"  asked  Tom,  of  his  juvenile 
aide. 

"  He  asks  you  to  strike,  sir.     What  shall  I  reply  ?" 


182  THE    IRISH 

''  Bid  him — "  but  a  tremendous  broadside  rendered  the 
rest  of  the  message  inaudible.  They  were  again  hailed  in 
consequence. 

"  What  does  he  say  now  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  He  repeats  his  call  upon  you  to  strike,  sir,  or  that  he  will 
make  you." 

Tom  had  not  time  to  dictate  a  rejoinder,  when  the  French- 
man now  impatiently  repeated  his  demand,  and  in  a  louder  tone. 

"And  now,"  said  Tom,  "  what  does  he  want?" 

"  He  says,  sir,  that  if  you  don't  strike  he'll  sink  you." 

"  By  I  am  afraid  he  will,"  said  Tom,  half  aside ; 

"  but—" 

Before  he  could  conclude  his  sentence  came  another  broad- 
side, and  he  was  again  hailed ;  this  time  in  English. 

''  What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  Tom,  directing  his  own 
voice  upwards  to  the  part  of  the  enemy's  ship  whence  the 
demand  came. 

"  Strike  !"  repeated  the  Frenchman  in  English. 

"  By   I  will,"   said  Tom ;  and  hard,  too,   as 

you'll  find." 

Turning  to  his  first  lieutenant,  he  added  :  "  Get  closer,  Mr. 

,  and  double  shot  the  guns."     Then   leaning  over  the 

side  of  his  ship,  he  amused  himself  with  that  happy  resource 
of  soldier  officers  in  a  country  town — spitting  over  the  bridge 
— until  some  new  movement  called  him  to  more  active  employ- 
ment, and  a  busy  time  he  had  of  it,  for  the  Frenchman  fought 
gallantly. 

The  penchant  for  close  quarters  (incomprehensible  to  a 
landsman)  displayed  by  Captain  Packenham,  was  evinced  by 
his  Admiral  in  a  still  more  remarkable  manner,  at  about  the 
same  moment.  Desiring  to  get  as  close  to  the  ship  of  Villaret 
Joyeuse  as  possible,  Lord  Howe  said  to  his  sailing-master : 
"A  little  nearer,  Mr.  ." 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  master. 

"  A  little  nearer,  Mr. ." 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  Lord." 

"  Closer,  Mr. ." 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  Lord." 

By  this  time  the  "  Queen  Charlotte"  was  placed  in  precisely 
the  position  quoad  the  '*  Montague,"  which  Lord  Howe  de- 
sired.    Thereupon  he  said  :  ''  That  will  do,  Mr. ." 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  Lord." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  183 

*'  My  Lord  I  My  Lord  !  If  I  be  a  Lord  you  ought  to  be  a 
Prince."" 

A  moto  quaeramus  sera  ludo. 

The  victory  -vras  most  important  for  England,  but  was  con- 
tested by  the  French  (our  friend  Jean  de  Bry  excepted)  with 
heroic  courage.  On  account  of  the  blowing  up  or  sinking  of 
the  ''  Vengeur"  by  order  of  her  captain  (as  the  French  allege), 
this  famous  sea-fight  continues  to  the  present  day  to  be  referred 
to  in  France  with  pride  and  exultation.  How  the  explosion 
or  settling  down  took  place,  has,  I  am  told,  never  been  proved, 
and  is  now  never  likely  to  be. 

Of  the  miscreants  sent  by  the  Convention  to  the  armies  in 
1792  and  1793,  to  watch,  control,  and  direct  the  operations, 
and  to  arrest  and  denounce  such  of  the  generals  as  they  pleased 
to  regard  as  traitors  or  cowai'ds,  was  one  who  rivalled  St.  Just 
and  others  of  his  fellows  in  cruelty,  brutality,  and  atrocity. 
This  was  an  ex-monk,  named  Duquesnoy.  He  had  thrown 
off  his  habit,  and  become  a  farmer,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  Revolution.  Into  the  subsequent  excesses  of  that  Revo- 
tion  he  entered  with  a  sort  of  fury,  and  in  consequence  was 
elected  and  sent  to  the  Legislative  Assembly,  as  a  representa- 
tive for  the  department  of  the  Pas  de  Calais.  Subsequently, 
as  a  member  of  the  Convention,  he  voted  for  the  death  of  the 
King  without  revision  or  appeal;  and,  by  coitps  de  baton  (!) 
compelled  his  colleague,  Bollet,  to  give  a  similar  vote.  On 
the  31st  of  May,  1792,  he  was  sent  to  the  Army  of  the  North, 
in  quality  of  commissaire,  and  on  his  way  ordered  measures 
of  ten'or,  which  became  the  order  of  the  day.  His  correspond- 
ence, couched  in  terms  the  most  coarse  and  cutting,  suggests 
reason  for  believing  that  he  was  a  furious  animal,  and  the  ex- 
citer of  the  infamous  Joseph  Lebon.  ''  Courage  ?"  cried  he 
in  one  of  his  despatches — "■  Courage  !  Proceed  !  ever  firm  ! 
We,  St.  Just  and  I,  will  return  and — gd  ira  ! — more  inflexible." 
After  a  course  of  cruelties  and  crimes  which  posterity  will 
hardly  credit,  he  was  brought  to  trial,  and  sentenced  to  death 
on  the  16th  of  June,  1795,  for  participation  in  the  insurrec- 
iion  Jacobirie,  which  occurred  on  the  l^re  Prairial,  An.  III. 
At  the  moment  when  the  executioners  were  binding  him  to 
the  fatal  plank  of  the  guillotine,  he  had  the  coolness  to  ex- 
claim :  "  May  mine  be  the  last  innocent  blood  that  will  be 
shed !" 

In  the  unpublished  coi'respondence  of  the  Committee  of 


184  THE    IRISH 

Public  Safety,  I  have  found  the  followiug  letter  from  this  atro- 
cious and  appalling  fiend,  addressed  to  Carnot,  dated   18th 

October,  1793.    "  I  send  you  four to  be  shortened!  The 

first  is  the  General  Gratien ;  the  second,  the  Commandant  of 
the  25th  regiment  of  cavalry;  the  3d,  the  temporary  Com- 
mandant of  Avesnes ;  the  fourth,  an  Irishman  named  Mande- 
ville,  whom  I  have  heard  styled  this  morning  '  Monsieur  le 
Marquis.'     Now,  as  I  do  not  like  marquises,  I  send  him  to 

yon." 

Poor  Maudeville  !  he  paid  dearly,  it  would  seem,  for  his 
respect  for  titles. 

It  is  consolatory  to  add,  however,  that  I  find  in  one  of  the 
biographers  of  Carnot,  that  he  only  broke  the  Brigadier-gene- 
ral Gratien;  and  for  good  reason,  if  he  were  guilty  of  the 
charge  alleged  against  him  by  Duquesnoy* — misbehaviour  be- 
fore the  enemy.  Carnot  has  frequently  denied  the  accusations 
of  cruelty  brought  against  him  in  his  capacity  of  member  of 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  so  that  if  a  General  accused 
of  cowardice  or  incapacity  escaped  the  death  solicited  for  him 
by  his  accuser,  a  foolish  expression  of  vanity  would  hardly 
have  been  punished  capitally,  even  at  that  horrible  epoch. 

Who  this  Gratien  was  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover. 
He  was  probably  a  Swiss,  as  were,  no  doubt,  the  Jlarcus,  Kap- 
per,  and  Gausser,  who  figure  in  the  ci-devant  regiment  of 
Berwick  in  1792. 

*  The  following  is  the  extract  of  the  despatch  of  Duquesuoy,  ubove 
referred  to : — 

'' Je  vous  envoie  quatre  Jean  F .     Le  l^""  le  g6neral  de  brigade  Gra- 

tien.  Le  2"  le  commandant  du  25  regiment  de  cavalerie,  le  .3"  est  le  com- 
mandant temporaire  d'Avesnes  ;  le  4"°  est  un  Irlandais,  nomrae  Mandeville. 
que  j'ai  entendu  nommfi  ce  matin  M.  le  Marquis.  Comme  jo  n'aime  pas  les 
Marquis,  je  vous  I'envoie." — Correspondence  inirlite  du  Comiti  du  Salut 
Publique,  torn,  iii.,  p.  323. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  386 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Thou  shalt  flourish  in  immortal  youth, 

Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 

The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worldJ. 

Cato. 

I  OBSERVED  at  the  commencement  of  my  work  that  I 
should  be  found  desultory,  inconsecutive,  and  discursive; 
and  when  I  regard  the  length  of  the  digression  I  have  just 
committed,  I  feel  astonished  at  the  huge  draught  I  have  made 
on  the  readers'  indulgence,  and  am  even  tempted  to  suppress 
it.  The  truth  is,  that  I  have  justified  it  to  myself  by  the  reflec- 
tion that  "my  anecdotes  are  a-propos  of  some  Irish  topic  or 
man,  and  therefore  pardonable  if  not  acceptable." 

The  reader  will  remember  that  my  plunge  into  compara- 
tivelj'  modern  French  politics  and  history,  arose  out  of  a  coin- 
cidence I  fancied  in  the  employment  of  the  son  of  an  Irishman^ 
and  the  sou  of  an  Irishwoman,  in  the  resistance  oifered  to  the 
revolutionists  of  1830  and  of  1848  respectively,  and  a  volun- 
teer defence  of  the  Irish  character ;  which  the  fastidious  might 
deem  compromised  by  their  defeat.  Will  he  accept  such 
a-propos  as  an  excuse  for  my  flight  off  at  each  tangent  that 
presents  itself?  If  so,  I  shall  be  grateful;  but  if  he  will  not 
so  receive  it  as  a  favour,  I  shall  claim  a  right.  My  title — 
'*'  The  Irish  Abroad  and  at  Home" — ^justifies  these  digressions. 
Nevertheless,  I  deprecate  the  reader's  displeasure,  and  implore 
him  to 

Be  to  my  faults  a  little  blind, 
Nor  clap  a  padlock  on  my  mind. 

Do  this,  and  I  pledge  myself  to  be  less  diffuse  in  future. 

When,  in  1791,  the  princes,  the  brothers  of  Louis  XVI., 
perceiving  the  abyss  towards  which  the  French  monarchy  was 
hurrying,  conceived  the  idea  of  emigrating,  in  order  to  assem- 
ble beyond  the  frontiers  an  armed  force  capable,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  royalists  remaining  in  France,  of  restoring 
order  and  the  kingly  power,  the  French  army  was  sounded, 


18G  THE    IRISH 

with  the  view  to  ascertain  the  real  spirit  which  animated  it. 
The  experiment  produced  unsatisfactory  results  for  those  who 
made  it;  for  the  majority  of  those  sought  to  be  seduced, 
although  still  faithful  to  the  King,  evinced  an  unconquerable 
aversion  to  civil  war.  Emigration  was  then  positively  proposed ; 
very  many  of  the  superior  officers  of  the  army  declared  for  that 
measure,  but  several  among  them,  and  the  principal  portion  of 
those  of  inferior  grades,  declared  they  would  not  quit  France. 
They  said  they  were  loyal  subjects  of  the  King,  but  above  all 
that  they  were  Frenchmen.  The  consequence  was,  that  the 
Counts  de  Provence  and  d'Artois  (afterwards  Louis  XVIII. 
and  Charles  X.)  emigrated,  and  were  accompanied  or  followed 
by  hosts  of  the  ilite  of  the  kingdom.  Still  many  more  re- 
mained, who  were  stanch  royalists,  and  who  for  that  very 
reason  would  not  abandon  their  King  in  his  hour  of  peril. 
Others  refused  to  emigrate,  because  they  had  embraced  the 
new  doctrines. 

Precisely  similar  was  the  eifect  of  this  experiment  upon  the 
Irish  Brigade.  A  large  portion  declared  for  "  the  Princes," 
and  quitted  the  French  territory.  Another,  of  whom  Arthur 
Dillon  may  be  deemed  the  type,  resolved  to  remain  with  the 
King,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  actually  served  against  the  foreign 
troops  and  the  army  of  Cond^  with  zeal  and  fidelity.  A  third 
accepted  the  Revolution  frankly  and  enthusiastically.  The  first 
and  second  portions  said :  ''  We  are  bound  by  oath  and  by 
gratitude  to  the  French  monarchy."  The  third  said  :  '*  We 
are  the  soldiers  of  France."  Which  was  right?  As  in  most 
questions,  much  can  be  urged  on  either  side.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  a  division  took  place,  and  the  Brigade  from  that  moment 
ceased,  virtually,  to  exist. 

I  have  stated  that  after  the  campaigns  against  the  Republic, 
in  which  that  portion  of  the  Irish  Brigade  who  had  emigrated 
with  the  Princes  were  engaged,  they  were  adopted  by  the 
British  Government.  Those  of  the  officers  who  preferred 
active  service,  remained  with  their  rigiments  in  the  enjoyment 
of  their  rank.  After  being  recruited  in  Ireland,  they  and 
their  corps  were  sent  to  the  British  West  Indies.  On  their 
return,  the  Brigade  was  dissolved :  the  soldiers  were  dis- 
charged, and  the  officers  had  the  option  of  employment  in  regi- 
ments of  the  line,  or  of  going  on  half-pay. 

Before  returning  to  the  period  of  their  break-up  in 
France,  it  may  not  be  uninteresting  for  the  Irish  reader  to  find 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  187 

before  him  the  names  of  the  officers  of  the  three  reg;imeDts  of 
the  Brigade,  before  their  separation  in  the  year  1791,  in  the 
manner,  and  for  the  considerations  I  have  mentioned. 

The  regiment  of  Dillon,  stationed  at  Lille,  was  thus  com- 
posed at  that  period  : — 

Colonel :  Theobald  Dillon. 

Lieutenant-colonels  :  O'More,  O'Toole. 

Captains :  Barry,  MacDermott,  MacDermott,  Greenlaw, 
Coghlan,  Dillon,  O'Keeffe,  Fennell,  Walsh,   Hussey,  Hussey, 

Hussey,  O'Farrel, Sliee,   Sheldon,   Fagan,  Fitzmaurice, 

Pindar. 

Lieutenants :  MacClo.sky,  O'Mara,  John  O'Neill,  Doran, 
Fras.  MacDermott,  Redmond,  Keau  JMahony,  Joseph  O'Neill, 
Warren,  Langton,  Cliiford,  Conway,  Jordan,  Corkeran,  Mont 
Gerald,  John  Walsh,  Chr.  Fagan,  Macnamara,  Barnewall,  Pat. 
FitzSimon,  John  Mahony,  O'Sullivan,  Tarleton,  Theobd. Walsh, 
Charles  Walsh,  Michl.  Bellew,  O'Dunne. 

Regiment  of  Berwick,  in  garrison  at  Landau : — 

Colonel : . 

Lieutenant-colonels :  0'3Ioore  MacDurmott. 

Captains:  O'Connor,  Biyan  O'Toole,  Richd.  O'Toole, 
O'Gormican,  Crase,  Reed,  Egan,  William  O'Mara,  Thaddeus 
O'Mara,  John  Geoghegan,  Harly,  Tuite,  Swanton,  Delany, 
Gregory  O'Byrne. 

Lieutenants :  D.  Allan,  Kavenagh,  Forbes,  Grace,  John 
Mulhall,  0' Kennedy,  Garrett  FitzSimons,  Blake,  Richd. 
O'Byrne,  d'Evereux,  Geraghty,  Doyle,  Nagle,  Pat.  Piersse, 
Gerard  Piersse. 

Sub-lieutenants :    O'Sullivan,    MacCarty,    Pat.    Jennings, 
Luke  Allen,  Andw.  Elliott,  Morris,  Cameron. 
•  Regiment  of  Walsh,  stationed  at  Vannes  : — 

Colonel :  Walshe  de  Serraut. 

Lieutenant-colonels :  Sarsfield  O'Neill. 

Adjutant :  O'Connell. 

Captains:  O'Shee,  MacCarthy,  Slack,  Begg,  Plunkett, 
O'Reordan,  Barry,  O'Gorman,  Keating,  O'ShielJ,  Meeghan, 
O'Byrne,  Roche,  Toben. 

Lieutenants  aud  Sub-lieutenants :  Laffan,  Trollcr,  Wm. 
Haly,  O'Rourke,  Clarke,  Bulkeley,  Trant,  O'Dunne,  Meade, 
John  Burke,  O'Duhigg,  Andw.  Creagh,  Michl.  Creagh, 
Sherlock. 


188  THE    IRISH 

Independently  of  these,  I  find  the  foUo'wing  scattered 
through  the  records  of  1791  : — 

O'Connell  (Daniel),  MacMahon,  O'Mahony,  Robert  Dillon, 
Dr.  Osmond  Blair,  Arran,  "Wildermaulh  (O'Connell's  regi- 
ment), O'Kelly,  St.  Leger,  O'Brien  (Lieutenant-colonel),  three 
Reynolds's  (Joseph,  Baptist,  and  Francis),  Blackwell,  Francis, 
Gibbons,  Hamilton,  Jennings,  Maurice  Jernyngham,  Kendall, 
MacDonald,  MacDonald,  0' Kennedy,  James,  Morgan,  2sugent, 
Moore,  0' Hacaartv. 

In  1792,  there  remained  in  France,  of  the  ci-devant  regi- 
ment of  Dillon,  stationed  at  Arras,  the  following  ofiicers  :  — 

0'3Ioran,  Waltut  (?),  O'Farrel,  Fitzgerald,"  Pindan,  War- 
ren, Hart,  Plunkett,  Tarleton,  Michael  Bellew,  Doyle,  Nagle, 
Delaney,  Chr.  Fagan,  Andrew  Elliott,  MacCormick,  Reed, 
Defrey  (?),  Morris,  John  O'Bernard,  MacDermott,  Hussey, 
Shee,  MontGerald,  Barnewell,  Corkeran,  Gelis  (?),  O'Neil, 
Waters. 

Of  the  ci-devant  regiment  of  Walshe  in  1792,  at  St.  Do- 
mingo, I  find  the  following  list  of  officers  : — 

Adjutant-major  William  Cruse,  Captain  Meaghan,  Thomas 
O'Gorman,  John  Keating,  Lawrence  O'Riordan,  Thomas 
Kavanagh,  Wm.  Haley,  Jerry  O'Connor,  George  0' Byrne, 
Martin  MacMahon,  Terence  MacMahon,  Marcus  (?),  O'Duhigg, 
Redmond  Burke,  Mahony,  Trotter,  Toben,  O'Flynn,  Stuart. 

Of  the  regiment  of  Berwick,  the  following  oSicers  appear 
in  the  French  Army  list  for  1792.  The  separation  just 
alluded  to  having  taken  place  in  the  interval,  many  new  names 
will  be  perceived  in  the  corps,  and  many  others  will  be  found 
omitted. 

'■'The  etat  of  the  ci-devant  regiment  of  Berwick,  which 
subsequently  became  the  70th  demi-brigade,  or  regiment  of  the 
line,  in  1792,"  shows  that  the  first  battalion  was  in  garrison  at 
Orleans,  the  second  at  St.  Domingo.  The  staflf  of  the  regiment 
at  that  period  stood  thus : — 

Colonel :  O'Connor. 

Lieutenant-colonels  :  Harlv,  Shee. 

Adjutant-majors:  Terlaing  (query,  Delany?),  D.  Allan. 

Adjutant-treasurer:  Terlaing  (Delany?). 

Captains :  Swantou,  Hussey,  MacCormick,  Aupick  (?), 
Doyle,  Roberts,  Nagle.  Delany,  Martin  Harst  (Hart  ?),  Andrew 
MacDonnay,  Defrey,  Reed,  Andrew  Elliott,  Brunck  (Burke  ?), 
Marcus  (?),  Laffan,  O'Flinn. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  189 

Lieutenants :  Luke  Allen,  Merle  (?),  D.  Allan,  Burke, 
Grattas  ('/),  Mejere  (Meagher,  or  Meao-han),  Flanian  (Flem- 
ing), Prior,  D.  Allan  (3d),  Chaperian,  Nagle,  Ravel,  Kappes, 
Iloudouart,  Derenzy,  Gausser,  Eugene  Chancel,  Shee. 

Sub-lieutenant :  Nestor  Chancel. 

Under  the  head  of  '' Regiment  of  Steiuer"  (Swiss),  there 
occur  the  following  three  names :  O'Relly  (Major),  O'Relly 
(Bernard),  and  O'Relly  (Lou.is)  Lieutenants. 

Of  the  regiments  of  Berwick,  Dillon,  and  Walshe,  many 
officers  emigrated  with  the  Princes,  and  were  incorporated  with 
the  res;iments  organized  in  the  British  service.  When  the 
Brigade  was  dissolved,  many  entered  into  British  regiments  of 
the  line,  and  attained  to  superior  rank.  Among  these  were 
Bryan  O'Toole,  who  distinguished  himself  in  the  Peninsular 
war;  O'Gormagan,  lost  in  the  terrible  storms  of  November,  1807, 
in  Dublin  Bay,  when  two  transports,  containing  seven  or  eight 
hundred  Irish  soldiers,  went  down ;  James  FitzSimon,  after- 
wards Lieutenant-colonel  67th  regiment ;  Garrett  FitzSimons, 
Luke  Allen. 

Among  those  who  went  on  half-pay  were  Geoghegan,  Mul- 
hall,  Kavanagh,  of  Burres,  who  married  later  a  sister  of  the 
Marquis  of  Ormond;  Thady  O'i^Iai-a,  and  Stack,  Conway, 
Moore. 

Of  the  Irish  who  remained  in  France,  Jennings,  under  the 
title  of  Kilraaine,  became  a  most  distinguished  General;  O'Mara, 
Colonel;  O'Mara,  General;  Elliott,  Colonel  and  Aide-de- 
camp of  General  Bonaparte  (Napoleon)  ;  Harty,  a  distinguished 
General;  O'Neill;  Colonel  (of  the  47th,  ci-devant  Walshe's) ; 
MacSheehy,  Colonel  and  Aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon ;  Arthur  and  Theobald  Dillon,  and  James  O'Moran  be- 
came Lieutenant-generals ;  Blackwell,  Colonel. 


190  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Celui  qui  donne  vend,  si  celui  qui  prend  n'est  pas  ingrat. 
Ln  reconnaissance  fait  durer  le  hienfait. 

I  AM  about  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  the  foregoing  two 
French  proverbs,  which  in  truth  may  be  resolved  into  the 
homely  English  one,  ''  A  good  action  rarely  goes  unrewarded." 
Having  mentioned  an  unamiable  coincidence  of  character  in 
the  two  greatest  warriors  of  the  age,  it  is  "  refreshing"  to  sig- 
nalize a  trait  of  an  opposite  kind  in  one  little  their  inferior. 

I  have  just  named  Stack,  formerly  of  Walshe's  regiment, 
as  one  of  the  officers  of  the  late  Irish  Brigade,  who  having 
entered  the  British  service,  went  on  half-pay  at  the  dissolution 
of  that  body.  He  had  remained  on  half-pay  so  long  that  he 
became  the  oldest  Colonel  of  the  army.  His  promotion  to  the 
rank  of  Major-general  was  preceded  by  a  somewhat  curious 
interview  with  the  Duke  of  York. 

Having  solicited  the  honour  of  an  audience  of  His  Royal 
Highness,  he  received  an  intimation  that  the  Duke  would  re- 
ceive  him  at  the  Horse  Guards  next  day,  at  eleven  o'clock  in 
the  forenoon. 

He  was  punctual  in  his  attendance ;  and  being  introduced 
to  the  Commander-in-chief,  was  honoured  with  the  expression 
of  the  Duke's  usual  politeness,  and  the  customaiy  question  : 
"  Well,  Colonel,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

''I  perceive,  sir,"  replied  Stack,  "that  there  is  a  brevet 
coming  out,  in  which  I  hope  to  be  included.  I  am  the  senior 
colonel  in  His  Majesty's  service." 

"True,  Colonel  Stack;  but  give  me  leave  to  ask  you  of 
what  religion  you  are  ?" 

"I  am  of  the  religion  of  a  Major-general." 

The  Duke  bowed,  and  Stack  was  gazetted. 

The  question  put  by  the  Duke  of  York  to  Colonel  Stack 

touching  his  religion,  would  appear  to  have  had  its  origin  only 

in  the  regulation  which  excluded  Roman  Catholics  from  certain 

ranks  in  the  British  army.  ~  Another  fact  occurs  to  me,  how- 


ABEOAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  191 

ever,  wliich  would  seem  to  argue  that  the  Duke  was  not  only 
strict  on  the  point  iu  his  official  capacity,  but  that  he  enter- 
tained strong  private  feelings  on  the  subject.  Before  I  proceed 
to  narrate  the  circumstance,  however,  I  beg  to  prepare  my 
reader  for  another  long  digression,  which,  although  Ji-propos  of 
Irishmen  principally,  will  be  found  to  refer  to  Englishmen  and 
foreigners  also,  and  to  epochs  and  events  in  modern  history 
respecting  which  intense  interest  still  exists.  Most  of  the  de- 
tails into  which  I  am  about  to  enter,  were  communicated  to 
me  by  an  esteemed  friend,  Patrick  Egan,  to  whom  many  of 
them  are  personal.  Those  which  I  add  from  other  sources  I 
have  taken  care  to  verify. 

Mr.  Patrick  Egan  was  a  native  of  Tuam,  county  of  Galway, 
Ireland,  and  of  highly  respectable  parentage.  His  grand-uncle 
had  been  the  Catholic  Archbishop  of  Tuam,  and  he  was  him- 
self the  nephew  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  physicians 
of  Ireland,  some  forty  years  ago.  Doctor  Thomas  Egan,  of 
Sackville  Street,  Dublin.  In  the  month  of  February,  1809, 
he  was  appointed  assistant  surgeon  of  the  23d  Light  Dragoons, 
then  serving  in  Spain,  and  received  an  order  to  repair  to  his 
reo-iment  there  forthwith. 

He  "joined"  in  Portugal,  and  was  present  at  the  battle  of 
Talavera  de  la  Reyna,  on  the  28th  of  July  of  that  year,  in 
which  the  23d  Light  Dragoons  distinguished  themselves.  The 
morning  following  that  victory  of  the  British  army,  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  ordered  a  movement  iu  retreat,  iu  consequence, 
it  was  surmised,  of  the  arrival  of  large  reinforcements  to  the 
enemy,  under  the  command  of  Marshal  Mortier,  Due  de  Tre- 
viso.  I  forget  in  what  form  the  order  was  given  to  Mr.  Egan 
to  remain  in  charge  of  the  wounded,  but  it  was  imperative. 

Mr.  Egan  was  deeply  penetrated  with  the  zeal  and  consi- 
deration for  his  charoe,  which  distins-uished  the  medical  offi- 
cers  of  the  British  army  throughout  the  Peninsular  war.  He, 
therefore,  felt  deeply  when,  on  inquiring  into  the  state  of  the 
supplies  required  for  his  hospital,  he  learned  that  everything 
which  could  contribute  to  the  comforts  of  his  patients  had  been 
carried  off,  even  to  the  sago,  "  in  order  to  furnish  the  officers' 
breakfasts."  The  stores  which  he  found  in  the  magazine  were 
miserable  in  quality  and  quantity. 

Under  these  circumstances,  knowing  that  the  French  army 
was  approaching,  and  that  they  would  make  short  work  of  the 
eatables  to  be  had  in  the  town,  he  repaired  to  a  butcher's  shop 


192  THE    IRISH 

to  provide  beef  for  soup,  for  his  hospital.  The  butcher,  aware 
that  the  British  army  had  marched,  and  that  the  French  miglit 
be  expected  to  arrive  at  any  moment,  became — to  propitiate 
the  latter,  possibly — insolent,  refusing  to  give  him  any  but  un- 
sound meat,  w-hich  Egan  indignantly  refused.  The  butcher 
thereupon  flew  into  a  rage,  and  would  have  murdered  him  but 
for  an  armed  hospital  sergeant,  by  whom  he  was  accompanied. 
Egan  thereupon  returned,  much  chagrined,  to  his  hospital. 

The  rest  of  the  day  he  spent  in  the  performance  of  his 
duty — the  most  painful  personal  portion  of  which  was  the  ne- 
cessity for  his  stooping  over  his  patients,  the  ambulance  being 
destitute  of  beds  for  them.  Towards  evenintr  he  was  in  the 
act  of  dressins?  a  French  drao;oon,  who  had  a  terrible  sabre- 
wound  of  the  right  shoulder,  received  in  a  melee  with  a  party 
of  the  23d  Dragoons.  Suddenly  Egan  perceived  the  poor 
fellow  raise  his  eyes  and  lower  them  as  in  reverence.  Turning 
his  head  to  ascertain  the  cause,  he  saw,  regarding  the  wounded 
man  with  interest,  a  very  tall  French  officer,  who  bowed  to  him 
with  much  appeai'ance  of  kindness. 

"  Well,  comrade,"  said  the  officer,  addressing  the  patient, 
"  you  have  suffered,  I  am  sorry  to  see,  but  it  will  pass  away. 
Who  is  this  gentleman?"  nodding  towards  Egan. 

"An  English  surgeon.  Marshal."     (Egan  started.) 

"  He  seems  kind  to  you." 

"  He  makes  no  difference  between  French  and  EnoHsh — 
none  between  us  and  the  wounded  of  his  own  army." 

"  Sir,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  officer,  turning  to  Egan. 
"  Continue  your  humane  occupation.  I  beg,  however,  the 
favour  of  your  company  at  dinner.  You  will  easily  find  my 
quarters.     I  am  the  Due  de  Treviso." 

Egan  availed  himself  of  the  flattering  invitation  he  had 
received,  and  accompanied  the  Marshal  to  the  theatre.  (The 
theatre  at  such  a  time !)  He  returned  early  to  his  hospital, 
but  waited  on  Mortier  the  following  afternoon.  After  some 
unimportant  conversation,  the  Marshal  asked  Egan  how  the 
wounded  went  on  ?  Being  satisfied  in  regard  to  them,  he  con- 
tinued :  '•  I  am  obliged  to  march,  and  we  shall  probably  meet 
no  more.  I  have  ordered  that  the  prisoners,  and  such  of  our 
own  invalid  soldiers  as  can  bear  the  transit,  proceed  to  France ; 
but  I  cannot  take  leave  of  you  without  again  expressing  to 
you  my  sense  of  the  humanity  and  skill  with  which  you  have 
tieated  our  wounded,  nor  without  asking  you  if  there  be  any 


ABROAD  AND   AT   HOME.  193 

way  ia  which  I  can  acknowledge  them — observing,  however, 
that  it  will  be  necessary  that  3'ou  accompany  the  column  of 
prisoners  and  convalescents  to  France  ?" 

Egan's  countenance  fell.  He  had  heard  of  the  detention 
of  many  hundred  unsuspecting  British  subjects  seized  sud- 
denly in  France,  on  the  rupture  of  the  peace  of  Amiens,  and 
of  the  miserable  life  they  led  in  the  fortified  towns  appointed 
for  their  reception  and  detention. 

Marshal  Mortier  noticed  the  expression  of  uneasiness  on 
his  countenance,  and  penetrated  the  cause.  ''  Be  not  uneasy 
on  your  own  account,"  said  the  Marshal ;  "  you  shall  not  be 
considered  or  treated  as  a  prisoner.  Indeed,  but  for  the  neces- 
sity for  your  presence  with  the  still  suffering  wounded,  I  would 
set  you  at  liberty  this  moment,  and  without  exchange.  On 
your  arrival  in  France,  you  will  receive  a  passport  for  Paris. 
Repair  thither,  and  present  yourself  to  Marshal  the  Due  de 
Feltre  (Clarke),  who  will  take  care  that  you  are  provided  with 
a  cartel  to  take  you  to  England.  Adieu,  sir.  Ban  voyage  ! 
Once  more  I  thank  you,"  added  the  kind-hearted  Marshal. 

At  the  same  hour  of  the  same  day,  of  the  month  (July), 
five-and-twenty  years  afterwards,  Mortier  fell  on  the  Boule- 
vard du  Temple,  Paris,  under  the  discharge  of  the  infernal 
machine  of  Fieschi.  He  may  be  said  to  have  voluntarily  in- 
curred his  fate.  It  had  been  rumoured  that  an  attempt  upon 
the  life  of  Louis  Philippe  would  be  made  that  day,  and  Mor- 
tier requested  of  the  Minister  of  War  to  be  placed  by  the  side 
of  the  King — ''because,"  added  the  glorious  veteran,  "I  am 
tall  (6  feet  2)  and  may  cover  him." 

These  words  were  prophetic. 

I  am  not  superstitious — much  less  would  I  encourage  such 
propensity  in  others — and  yet  the  calamity  that  occurred  that 
day  caused  to  me — and  I  am  sure  to  many — no  surprise. 
Similarly  strong  was  the  general  impression  in  Paris  on  the 
1st  December,  1851,  that  something  was  impending — "  II  y 
a  quelque  chose  dans  I'air,"  observed  a  French  friend  to  mo 
that  day.    At  midnight  Louis  Napoleon  struck  his  covp  d'^tnt. 

The  report  of  the  volley  fired  upon  the  King  by  Fie?chi 
ran  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning  from  the  Boulevard  du 
Temple  to  the  Place  Vendome — conveyed  along  the  line  irom 
man  to  man.  I  instantly  mounted  a  cabriolet,  and,  by  streets 
parallel  with  the  Boulevards,  reached  the  spot  on  which  the 
devoted  friend  and  soldier  had,  with  thirteen  other  persons 
9 


194  THE    IRISH 

of  less  note,  just  fallen.     He  had,  literally,  '^  perished  on  tho 
pavement — 

"  Killed  by  five  bullets  from  an  old  gun  barrel. 

"And  they  who  waited  once  and  worshipped — they 
With  their  rough  faces  thronged  about  the  bed, 
To  gaze  once  more  on  the  commanding  clay, 
Which  for  tlie  last,  though  not  the  first  time  bled. 
And  such  an  end !  That  he  who — many  a  day 
Had  faced  Napoleon's  foes  until  they  fled; 
The  foremost  in  the  charge  or  in  the  sally, 
And  now  to  bo  butchered  in  a  civic  alley  !" 

But  let  me  quit  the  theme. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

At  every  jolt — and  they  were  many — still 
He  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  little  charge. 


Son  Juan. 


REASSURED  by  the  kind  and  flattering  promises  of  the 
IMarshal  Mortier,  Egan  returned  to  his  ambulance  and, 
in  good  time,  started  with  the  convoy  of  wounded  and  prisoners 
for  France. 

Tho  incidents  of  the  journey  of  Egan  and  his  companions 
to  France  were  not  many.  On  passing  through  a  town  (of 
which  I  forget  the  name),  the  day  after  leaving  Talavera,  he 
was  much  struck  by  the  appearance  of  a  remarkably  fine  boy 
of  ten  or  eleven  years  of  age,  richly  dressed,  who  came  to 
observe  the  passage  of  the  column.  On  addressing  him, 
Egan  found  that  he  spoke  pure  Englivsh.  The  boy  then 
turned  to  the  French  officers  of  the  escort,  with  whom  he 
conversed  with  equal  ease  and  correctness ;  and  then  meeting 
a  German  officer  of  "  ours,"  he  talked  to  him  in  his  own  lan- 
guage with  almost  equal  fluency.  He  wished  them  all  good- 
by  in  their  respective  languages.     The  party  then  moved  on. 

In  passing  through  Burgos,  Egan  saw,  among  other  troops 
which  formed  its  garrison,  a  number  of  officers  and  soldiers  in 
green  uniforms,  faced  with  yellow,  the  Irish  harp  glittering 
on  their  appointments.  On  inquiring,  he  learnt  that  it  was 
the  3d  foreign  regiment,  composed  of  Irishmen.     He  would 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  195 

have  been  happy  to  enter  into  conversation  with  the  officers, 
but  for  an  accident.  One  of  the  English  prisoners  came  to 
complain  to  him  that  a  Sergeant  Kennedy  of  this  Irish  regi- 
ment was  tampering  with  the  Irishmen  among  the  prisoners, 
and  endeavouring  to  induce  them  to  enter  the  French  ai'my.* 
Egan  resented  this,  and,  in  consequence,  none  of  the  civihties 
which,  totally  unconnected  with  political  considerations,  would 
have  taken  place  between  him  and  his  expatriated  countrymen, 
ensued. 

Shortly  before  the  column  of  wounded  and  prisoners 
reached  Bayonne  (their  journey  had  been  necessarily  slow), 
Egan,  in  passing  through  a  town,  recognised  the  boy  I  have 
alluded  to,  but  how  changed  !  He  was  literally  in  tatters. 
The  youth  knew  him  and  claimed  his  protection.  "  We  are 
countrymen,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty.     ''  I  am  Scotch." 

"I  am  Irish,"  said  Egan,  "but  that  makes  no  difference. 
Are  you  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  not  a  friend  in  the  world." 

"  Fall  in,"  said  Egan  :  "  we  are  about  to  march."  He 
obeyed  with  alacrity. 

On  their  journey,  Egan  learned  his  story  from  the  child. 
He  was,  he  said,  the  son  of  a  sergeant  of  the  42d  Highlanders, 
who  had  been  killed  the  previous  year,  at  Orense.  He  and 
his  mother  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French,  by  whom  they 
were  well  treated.  Awaiting  an  opportunity  for  being  ren- 
dered to  the  English,  she  offered  her  services  as  an  hospital 
nurse,  and  was  accepted.  In  the  hospital,  the  boy  found 
French  and  German  as  well  as  English  officers  and  soldiers. 
His  gayety  and  intelligence  recommended  him  to  them,  and 
he  became  a  general  favourite.  Being  a  child  of  great  quick- 
ness, he  thus  acquired  in  a  few  mouths  the  proficiency  in  the 

*  Many  hundreds  of  Irish  soldiers,  made  prisoners  by  the  French,  yielded 
to  similar  invitations.  Impatient  at  confinement,  fed  insufficiently  with 
rations  of  inferior  food,  and  yielding  possibly  in  many  cases  to  a  favourable 
disposition  towards  the  French,  they  listened  to  the  arguments  and  solicita- 
tions of  the  Irish  officers  and  sub-officers  sent  into  the  various  depots  or 
prisons  for  that  purpose.  "  No  Englishman  would  be  received,"  said  Colonel 
M.  to  me  lately,  in  speaking  of  those  proceedings.  "  No  Englishman  would 
be  received.  It  was  not  their  fault,  therefore,  that  we  had  not  many  of 
them  in  our  regiment,  for  the  enuni  of  confinement,  and  the  privations  and 
regimen  they  were  subjected  to,  rendered  their  lives  miserable.  We  were, 
therefore,  on  entering  a  prison  to  recruit  among  the  Irish,  frequently  soli- 
cited by  the  English,  their  companions,  to  accept  them.  One  relied  upon 
his  surname  as  a  proof  that  he  was  of  pure  Irish  descent.  Another  pleaded 
that  his  mother  was  an  Irishwoman.  <fec." 


196  THE   IRISH 

Frencli  and  German  languao-es,  which  had  so  much  surprised 
Egan  on  first  meeting  with  him.  Unhappily,  his  mother 
became  ill  and  died.  The  circumstance  was  mentioned  with 
regret  by  some  French  officers  at  the  table  of  a  French  Gene- 
ral who  commanded  in  the  town  (I  think  it  was  Placentia), 
and  created  much  interest.  He  was,  consequently,  adopted 
by  the  chire  aniie  of  the  General,  a  Spanish  lady  of  great 
beauty  and  of  good  family,  and  became  such  a  favourite  that 
she  amused  herself  by  having  him  dressed  with  splendour  and 
elegance. 

Almost  immediately  after  Egan's  first  meeting  the  boy,  the 
face  of  public  affairs  changed  materially  in  that  part  of  Spain. 
The  division  of  the  French  army  commanded  by  the  General 
whose  liaison  with  a  Spanish  lady  I  have  just  mentioned,  was 
obliged  suddenly  to  break  up  and  march.  Time  and  means 
of  transport  were  only  available  for  the  conve3fance  of  the 
lady,  who  dared  not  remain  behind.  The  exasperation  of  her 
countrymen  against  the  French  rendered  her  own  doom  cer- 
tain, should  she  fall  into  the  hands  of  "  the  brigands,"  as  the 
French  called  the  men  who  made  such  noble  efforts  for  the 
expulsion  of  the  invader  from  their  native  land.  Thus  aban- 
doned, the  poor  boy  attempted  to  reach  France,  begging  his 
way,  in  the  hope  that  something  would  turn  up  in  his  favour, 
or  that  he  should  get  means  to  reach  England. 

Such  was  his  little  history. 

After  leaving  Bayonne,  the  journey  of  the  prisoners  was 
more  rapid,  for  the  French  convalescents  and  invalids  remained 
in  that  town.  On  arriving  at  Orleans,  Egan  was  thunder- 
struck by  receiving,  instead  of  a  passport  for  Paris  as  he  had 
been  led  to  expect,  2tfe,uille  tie  route  for  Verdun  as  a  prisoner 
of  war,  in  common  with  his  companions.  In  this  emergency 
he  consulted  Mr.  Thompson,  an  American  gentleman  (a  resi- 
dent of  Orleans  or  Bayonne),  who  assured  him  that  he  was 
convinced  that  Marshal  Mortier  meant  what  he  promised,  and 
that  he  had  kept  his  word  in  writing  respecting  him  to  the 
Minister  of  War.  He  advised  Egan,  therefore,  to  throw  him- 
self into  the  diligence,  even  without  a  passport,  just  as  he  was, 
and  proceed  to  Paris.  On  his  arrival  there,  he  told  him  to 
address  to  Marshal  Clarke  ("  Egan's  countrj-man  by  the  way/'* 

*  This  was  an  error.  The  French  archives  thus  describe  him  :  "  Henri- 
Jacques  Guillaume  (Clarke),  Duo  de  Feltre,  Comte  de  Hunebourg,  Margchal 
de  France,  naquit  3,  Landrecies,  dans  le  Hainaut,  le  17  Octobro,  1765." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  197 

he  added)  a  memorial  setting  fortli  all  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  and  he  might  rely  upon  it,  that  the  order  for  his  in- 
carceration in  Verdun  would  be  rescinded. 

Egan  followed  this  counsel.  He  arrived  in  Paris  next 
morning,  and  lost  not  a  moment  in  writing  to  the  Minister  of 
War,  referring  slightly  to  his  own  deserts,  but  dwelling  upon 
the  promise  of  the  Due  de  Treviso.  He  added  :  "  I  can  con- 
ceive it  possible,  that  there  may  exist  reasons  why  the  pledge 
of  the  Marshal  should  not  be  immediately  redeemed ;  but  I 
beg,  if  it  be  not  deemed  expedient  immediately  to  release  me, 
as  he  so  kindly  promised  should  be  done,  that  instead  of  my 
being  transferred  to  Verdun,  I  may  be  allowed  to  remain  in 
Paris,  where  such  admirable  opportunities  exist  for  improve- 
ment in  my  profession." 

He  solicited,  further,  to  be  suffered  to  keep  in  his  charge 
the  boy  so  often  mentioned,  whom  he  had  brought  to  Paris, 
and  whom  he  described  as  theyz7s  ailojjlif  oi  a  French  general. 
Within  an  hour  he  received  a  reply,  requesting  him  to  pre- 
sent himself,  with  his  proteye,  at  the  Ministry  of  War,  at  nine 
o'clock  on  the  foUowinc:  morniuG;. 

Marshal  Clarke  received  him  with  affability  and  kindness  j 
told  him  that  he  had  viva  voce  stated  the  whole  case  to  the 
Emperor,  who  desired  that  Mr.  Egan  should  be  authorized  to 
remain  in  Paris  as  long  as  he  pleased ;  that  if  Mr.  Egan  con- 
sented, his  young  charge  should  be  placed  in  the  military 
school ;  but  that  if  he  objected,  then  the  boy  should  be  allowed 
to  continue  under  his  protection,  and  accom^Dan}^  him  to  Eng- 
land ;  that  at  his  own  pleasure,  and  at  his  own  time,  Mr.  Egan 
might  repair  to  L' Orient,  where  he  would  find  a  cartel  to  take 
him  to  Southampton ;  and  finally,  he  desired  Marshal  Clarke 
to  thank  Mr.  Egan  in  his  (the  Emperor's)  name  for  his  care 
of  the  French  wounded,  and  his  acceptance  of  sixty  napoleons, 
to  indemnify  him  for  the  loss  of  his  baggage,  and  to  enable 
him  to  prepare  for  his  voyage. 

The  offer  to  provide  for  the  boy  Egan  respectfully  declined ; 
but  as  a  donation  from  such  a  quarter  could  not  be  refused,  he 
accepted  with  thanks  the  twelve  hundi-ed  francs.  He  then  ex- 
pressed his  acknowledgments  to  the  Duke  de  Feltre  for  his 
kindness  and  attention. 

But  it  is  needless  to  observe,  that  his  parents  and  all  his  ancestors  were 
Irish.  (The  Irish  name  of  Clarke  is  O'Clery.)  I  cannot  sny  so  much  for 
his  predilections  in  every  instance. 


198  THE    IRISH 

Impatient  to  return  home,  Egan,  with  his  proUge,  left 
Paris  in  the  course  of  the  week,  and  proceeded  to  L' Orient 
(or  Morlaix,  I  am  not  sure  which),  where  he  found  a  cartel, 
which  landed  him  safely  in  England ;  and  he  left  for  London 
the  same  night. 

His  first  care  next  morning  was  to  report  himself  at  the 
Horse  Guards,  when  he  was  desired  to  return  at  three  o'clock. 
Afterwards,  he  visited  several  distinguished  personages  (among 
others,  the  late  Duke  of  Bedford  and  the  late  Lord  Essex), 
from  whose  relatives  serving  in  the  British  army  in  the  Penin- 
sula, or  prisoners  of  war,  he  was  the  bearer  of  messages  or 
letters.  As  he  was  the  only  person  who  had  arrived  from 
Prance  for  a  long  period,  he  became  quite  a  lion. 

On  returning  to  the  Horse  Guards  at  the  appointed  hour,  he 
was  ushered  into  the  cabinet  of  the  Duke  of  York,  who  re- 
ceived him  with  even  more  than  his  usual  share  of  courtesy 
and  urbanity.  Egan  briefly  recapitulated  the  particulars  of 
his  voyage  from  Ireland  to  Portugal,  and  his  journey  thence 
to  Spain ;  of  the  service  he  had  witnessed,  and  his  subsequent 
journey  through  Spain  and  Prance  to  England,  in  the  short 
space  of  six  months  ;  and  introduced  the  episode  of  the  orphan 
boy. 

To  all  this  the  Duke  listened  with  the  deepest  attention. 
When  Egan  had  finished.  His  Royal  Highness  asked  some 
exjolanations,  which  were  given  him. 

"You  have  just  mentioned,  Mr.  Egan,"  said  he,  "that 
you  passed  through  Burgos  on  your  way  towards  France.  Did 
you  observe  there  a  regiment,  or  corps,  composed  for  the 
greater  part  of  Irishmen  V 

"  Yes,  sir.     A  battalion  only,  I  believe." 

"By  whom  is  it  commanded?" 

"Colonel  O'Mara." 

"  Was  he  not  in  our  service  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Have  a  care.  He  was  an  officer  of  the  Irish  Brigade 
who  emigrated  with  the  French  Princes,  and  who,  when  his 
regiment,  with  the  others  of  the  Brigade,  came  to  England, 
after  the  early  campaigns  of  the  Republic,  were  adopted  and 
taken  into  the  British  service  by  order  of  His  Majesty." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  The  officer  of  whom  your  Royal 
Highness  speaks  never  returned  to  France.  He  was  in  Dil- 
lon's regiment.     He  has  constantly  resided  in  the  city  of  Dub- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  199 

Hn  since  his  corps  was  dissolved.  I  saw  him  there  last  Feb- 
ruary. The  chef  de  hataillon  in  command  of  the  Irish 
battalion  at  Burgos,  is  his  brother,  and  was  like  him  an  ofBcer 
of  the  Brigade  (lieutenant  in  Berwick's  regiment)  before  the 
Revolution.  A  part  only  of  each  regiment  of  it  emigrated 
with  the  Princes,  as  your  Royal  Highness  knows.  Another 
brother,  "William  O'Mara,  also  of  Berwick's,  is  now  in  Paris. 
He  had  also  remained  in  France,  and  was  aide-de-camp  of 
Marshal  Lannes,  who  was  killed  at  Esling  last  May.  The 
Marshal  died  in  O'Mara's  arms." 

*'  Did  you  know  any  of  the  officers  you  saw  at  Burgos  ?" 

''No,  sir;  but  I  recognised  two:  one,  a  Mr.  Allen,  who 
lived  in  College  Green,  Dublin,  whom  while  I  was  in  college 

I  saw  almost  daily;  the  other,  a  Mr.  I ,  whose  family  live 

in  Sackville  Street,  Dublin." 

"  He  is  a  deserter  from  our  army  ?" 

"  The  militia  only,  sir,  I  believe." 

"  Originally  the  militia.     Is  he  not  a  Catholic  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  he  is  a  Protestant." 

The  officer  here  spoken  of  was  a  brave,  intelligent  young 
man,  full  of  animal  spirits  and  good-humour,  and  occupied 
himself,  when  fighting  was  not  to  be  had,  in  creating  amuse- 
ment for  his  comrades,  and  thus  enabled  them  to  pass  many 
merry  hours  in  barrack  and  bivouac,  which  would  have  other- 
wise hung  heavily  on  hand.  He  was  in  the  Irish  regiment 
in  the  French  army,  what  my  facetious  acquaintance,  Maurice 
Quill,  was  in  the  English  service — and  what  a  countryman  of 
theirs,  "  Billy  Healy,"  had  been  in  the  American  army  in  the 
"War  of  Independence — a  fellow  of  infinite  humour,  of  whom 
many  amusing  anecdotes  are  recorded. 

Captain  I was  one  of  the  victims  of  the  impolitic  reac- 
tion on  the  second  Restoration  in  France  (1816).  His  Bona- 
pirtean  principles  were  notorious,  and  were,  by  one  or  other 
of  the  numerous  spies  then  entertained  in  every  corps  or 
regiment  in  the  service,  reported  to  the  government.  Pie 
Tvas  in  consequence  reduced  to  poverty,  and  compelled  to  leave 
France  the  same  year.  He  repaired  forthwith  to  South  Ame- 
rica, then  in  full  revolt  against  the  mother  country  (Spain), 
and  taking  service  there,  highly  distinguished  himself  in  the 
war  that  followed.  The  last  I  heard  of  him  was,  that  he  and 
Colonel  Bowes  Egan,  brother  of  the  Surgeon  Egan  of  whom 
I  have  been  speaking,  were  on  the  staff  of  Admiral  Brion. 


200  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

They  order  these  matters  better  in  France. 


OTERITE. 


AFTER  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Egan's  verbal  report,  just 
mentioned,  the  Duke  of  York  chatted  with  him  for  some 
time ;  and  then,  bowing  to  him,  requested  him  to  return  next 
morning  at  ten  o'clock,  and  to  bring  with  him  his  young  com- 
pagnon  du  voyage. 

Aware  of  the  Duke's  strict  observance  of  appointments, 
Egan  and  his  young  companion  reached  Charing  Cross,  on 
his  way  to  the  Horse  Guards,  by  half-past  nine  o'clock  nest 
morning.  As  he  passed  the  shop  of  Place,  the  tailor,  he  was 
strvick  by  the  appearance  of  a  sergeant  in  the  Highland  cos- 
tume, approaching.  When  the  man  came  nearer,  Egan  per- 
ceived that  he  belonged  to  the  42d  regiment,  upon  which  he 
addressed  him,  asking  him  how  long  he  had  been  in  that  regi- 
ment. The  sergeant  answered,  and  asked  in  return,  "  Why 
do  you  ask,  sir?" 

"  Did  you  know  a  Sergeant ,  of  that  corps  ?" 

'■'■  Certainly  I  did,  sir,"  replied  the  man  with  increasing 
interest.     '' What  of  him?" 

"  This  boy  is  his  son  !" 

"  Good  God  I"  said  the  poor  fellow,  bursting  into  tears, 
and  taking  the  boy  into  his  arms,  and  covering  him  with 
kisses ;  ''  he  is  my  son,  sir  !     And  my  wife  ?" 

"  She  is  dead  !" 

Overpowered  by  the  sudden  shock,  the  sergeant  staggered, 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from  tears.  A  crowd  now  began  to 
assemble,  upon  which  Egan  led  him  and  his  child  into  Place's 
shop.  The  mingled  feeling  of  joy  and  grief  continued  for 
some  time  to  agitate  the  poor  man;  but  at  length  Egan  men- 
tioned that  he  had  an  appointment  with  the  Commander-in- 
chief,  and  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  proceed  to  keep  it 
forthwith,  accompanied  by  the  boy.  "  I,  too,  sir,  am  ordered 
to  attend  at  the  Horse  Guards,"  said  the  sergeant ;   '•  I  will 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  201 

accompany  you  thither,  if  you  will  allow  me,  and  wait  for  you 
in  the  Park."'  He  then  wiped  away  his  tears,  and  taking  his 
son  by  the  hand  accompanied  Egan  to  the  Horse  Guards,  re- 
maining below  while  they  ascended  to  the  office  of  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief. 

His  Ilo3'al  Highness  received  Egan  with  his  accustomed 
affability,  and  was  charmed  with  his  young  companion,  with 
whom  he  conversed  in  French  and  German.  The  boy,  spoiled 
by  the  familiarity  permitted  him  latterly  in  Spain,  replied 
with  the  utmost  self-possession  and  vivacity,  to  the  questions 
of  the  royal  Duke,  who  was  amused  and  delighted  with  his 
replies  and  repartees,  and  told  him  of  whom  the  portraits  were 
which  hung  upon  the  walls,  to  get  a  nearer  view  of  which  the 
little  fellow  had  unceremoniously  mounted  on  the  chairs.  At 
length  the  Duke  turned  to  Egan,  saying,  '^  You  have  given 
me  a  very  interesting  account  of  your  journey,  and  have  done 
yourself  much  credit  by  your  kindness  to  our  young  country- 
man here,  with  whom  your  adventure  is  quite  romantic." 

''  Its  sequel,  sir,  is  still  more  surprising,"  added  Egan. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  Duke. 

Egan  then  mentioned  his  rencontre  with  the  father  of  the 
boy  a  few  minutes  previously,  observing  that  that  coincidence 
was  the  most  extraordinary  that  had  ever  occurred  to  him. 

"  Not  so  extraordinary  as  you  think,"  said  the  Duke,  with 
a  smile.  "  Recollecting  the  particulars  respecting  the  boy 
which  you  detailed  in  your  conversation  with  me  yesterday,  I 
desired  that  an  order  should  be  sent  to  the  depot,  or  a  detach- 
ment of  the  42d  now  at  Chatham,  to  supply  me  with  infor- 
mation touching  the  services  and  death  of  Sergeant ,  of 

that  regiment,  killed  in  action  last  year  at  Orense.  The  reply 
was,"  continued  the  Duke,  touching  a  paper  on  the  table, 
"  that  '  they  thought  the  best  answer  that  could  be  given 
to  my  queries,  would  be  conveyed  by  the  man  himself,  who 
had  (it  was  tme)  been  severely  wounded  in  the  affair  at 
Orense,  but  who  had  survived  it,  and  was  then  actually  in 
Chatham.'  As  for  the  boy,  be  at  ease  respecting  him ;  I  shall 
t-ake  charge  of  him."  Then,  in  his  usual  manner,  he  bowed 
to  Egan,  and  advanced  upon  him  with  grace,  but  rapidly,  and 
in  a  moment  the  latter  found  his  back  against  the  door. 
Bowing  respectfully,  he  retired  with  his  charge,  whom  he 
confided  to  his  father.  The  Duke  placed  the  boy  in  the  Mili- 
tary School  the  week  following. 
9* 


202  THE    IRISH 

Half-angry  at  the  matter-of-fact  explanation  of  the  occur- 
rence of  the  morning,  given  to  him  by  the  Duke  of  York, 
Egan  was  further  annoyed  by  the  freezing  indifference  with 
which  he  and  his  young  friend  were  regarded  by  the  clerks  or 
secretaries  at  work  in  the  ante-rooms  of  the  Horse  Guards, 
which  recalled  to  him  forcibly  the  treatment  they  had  experi- 
enced at  the  Ministry  of  War,  in  Paris. 

The  Duke  of  York  himself  bore  a  most  favourable  com- 
parison with  the  Duke  de  Feltre ;  but  the  cold  and  somewhat 
repelling  glances  of  the  persons  in  the  offices  through  which 
he  now  passed,  contrasted  strikingly  with  the  sensation  which 
Egan  and  the  boy  had  caused  amongst,  and  the  interest,  the 
enthusiasm  displayed  and  expressed  by  the  clerks  of  the 
French  Minister  of  War. 

''  Sterne  was  right,"  said  he,  bitterly.  "  They  tell  me  that 
the  French  are  not  sincere.  What  care  I,  if  I  derive  from 
their  complaisance  and  honhommie  all  the  advantages  of  the 
truest  and  kindest  of  intentions  ?  Perhaps  my  amour  propre 
is  wounded  by  the  freezing  haughtiness  of  the  gentlemen  I 
have  seen  in  the  office  of  the  Horse  Gruards,  and  that  I  am 
unjust :  but  it  is  not  in  this  instance  only  that  the  French 
appear  to  advantage  in  their  social  character  and  position 
when  compared  with  our  own  countrymen.  The  French  are 
fond  of  emotions,  and  ever  seek  occasion  for  them ;  and  they 
found  them  in  me  and  my  young  companion,  and  expressed 
the  interest  they  took  in  us  and  our  story.  Their  contempo- 
raries at  the  Horse  Guards  were  equally  well  informed  re- 
specting us,  and  hardly  favoured  us  with  a  passing  look,  in 
which  indifi'erence  would  seem  to  have  conquei-ed  curiosity ! 
I  suppose  I  must  concede  to  general  assertion  that  the  French 
are  triflers ;  biit  in  their  trifling  they  contrive  to  render  one 
more  contented  with  himself — the  most  pleasurable  sensation 
perhaps  of  which  man  is  susceptible." 

In  this  latter  assertion  many  persons  will  concur.  Appear 
to  disregard  it  as  we  may,  flattery  is,  with  the  generality  of 
the  world,  the  best  return  they  receive  for  kindnesses  or  good 
offices ;  the  one  which  leaves  them  vmder  the  most  agreeable 
impression.  A  debt  of  gratitude  well  paid  is  doubly  agreeable 
to  the  recipient ;  but  then  one  has  often  so  long  to  wait  for 
it ;  and  sometimes  it  never  comes  at  all !  Give  me  the  ready- 
money  flattery ! 

'Nous  avons,"  says  Pascal,  ^'une  si  grande  id^e  de  I'amc 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  203 

de  riiomme,  que  nous  ue  pouvons  souflfrir  d'eu  etre  m^prises 
ct  de  n'etre  pas  duns  I'estime  d'uue  ame ;  et  toute  la  felicity 
des  hommes  consiste  dans  cette  estime." 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

Quis  furor,  o  cives,  quae  tanta  licentia  feris. 


Virgil. 


POOR  Egau  !  he  died  early.  It  was  obsei-ved  of  him  that 
he  was  a  little  eccentric.  Which  of  us  Irishmen  is  not  ? 
He  possessed  other  qualities  also  not  unusual  with  us  : — he  was 
warm  in  temper,  kind-hearted,  and  affectionate.  He  was 
utterly  fearless,  but  had  not  a  spark  of  moral  courage.*  He 
was  "broken,"  by  sentence  of  court-martial,  for  sending  a 
challenge  to  his  superior  officer,  Captain,  afterwards  Major  Sir 
James  Cutcliffe,  who  had  put  an  affront  upon  him.  The  bearer 
of  his  message,  Lieutenant  Price,  son  of  Alderman  Sir  Charles 
Price,  of  London,  shared  his  fate ;  both,  however,  were  almost 
instantaneously  replaced  in  their  respective  ranks,  but  in  other 
regiments.  In  his  new  corps,  the  12th  Light  Dragoons,  the 
officers,  chiefly  Irish,  with  whom  he  was  an  especial  favourite, 
and  who  called  him,  familiarly,  "Paddy,"  were  continually 
playing  tricks  upon  him.  For  instance,  they  persuaded  him 
one  day  to  charge  with  the  regiment  in  an  action  in  Spain. 
The  Colonel,  Frederick  Ponsonby,  laughed  at  the  joke,  but 
interdicted  its  repetition. 

Notwithstanding  his  unquestionable  braveiy,  Egan  once 
received  a  challenge  which  he  would  have  refused,  although 
from  "an  officer  and  a  gentleman,"  and  an  Irishman;  it  was 
on  the  morning  of  the  battle  of  Talavera.  He  was  applied  to 
by  Captain  Power,  of  his  own  regiment,  the  23d  Light  Dra- 
goons, to  give  him  a  restorative  to  enable  him  to  mount,  and 

*  He  went  in  for  his  examination  before  the  College  of  Surgeons  admi- 
rably well  prepared.  On  being  asked,  among  other  questions,  bow,  in 
the  case  of  a  wound  of  the  fore-arm,  he  would  stop  the  efifusion  of  blood  ? 
he  replied  :  "  By  the  application  of  a— a— a—"  "  A  what,  sir  ?"  asked  the 
examiner,  savagely.  Egan  stammered — his  presence  of  mind  and  memory 
forsook  him;  he  could  not  recollect  the  word  tourniquet.  IIo  was,  on  that 
occasion,  not  permitted  to  pass. 


204  THE   IRISH 

"sit"  his  horse,  and  take  the  field.  " I  shall  do  no  such  thing," 
said  Egan.  ''  You  have  been  now  many  weeks  labouring 
severely  under  dysentery,  and  are  deplorably  reduced.  Even 
to  mount  on  horseback,  not  to  speak  of  fighting,  would  kill 
you.  I  shall  order  j^ou  no  medicine  for  any  such  purpose ; 
you  must  keep  your  quarters." 

Power  insisted,  but  Egan  was  immovable.  ''Then,"  said 
Power,  ''I  shall  do  without  it,  but  I  hold  you  accountable,  and 
shall  call  you  out  immediately  after  the  battle  is  over." 

The  brave  fellow  mounted  his  horse,  though  hardly  able  to 
sit  upright.  All  the  way  to  the  field  he  complained  bitterly 
of  Egan,  and  repeated  his  resolution  to  challenge  him  after  the 
impending  battle.  The  regiment  charged,  and  Power  received 
a  ball  in  the  forehead.  He  and  an  Irish  comrade,  Captain 
King,  fell  dead  at  the  same  moment.  I  think  they  were  the 
only  ofiicers  of  their  regiment  who  were  hit  in  that  battle. 

The  Colonel  of  Egan's  new  regiment  (the  12th  Light  Dra- 
goons, at  present  Lancers),  the  gallant  Frederick  Ponsonby, 
evinced  towards  him,  while  he  remained  in  it,  the  most  friendly 
regard,  and  was  repaid  by  warm  and  sincere  attachment.  I 
forget  by  what  fatality  it  was  that  Egan  arrived  on  the  field 
of  Waterloo  the  night  of  the  battle,  only  time  enough  to  prove 
his  zeal  and  professional  skill.  He  found,  to  his  deep  regrot, 
that  his  noble  commander  was  among  the  "  desperately  wound- 
ed" in  that  combat  of  giants.  His  first  care  on  joining  was  to 
ascertain  the  condition  of  his  protector  and  friend,  and  to  ten- 
der to  him  his  undivided  care  and  attention;  but  this,  the 
amount  of  sufferers  precluded. 

On  inquiring  into  tLe  incidents  of  the  battle  as  far  as  con- 
cerned his  own  regiment,  Egan  learned  that  Colonel  Ponsonby, 
one  of  the  first  horsemen  and  swordsmen  of  the  British  army, 
was  at  his  post  (that  is  to  say,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment)  in 
a  charge  they  executed  against  a  corps  of  French'^or  Polish 
Lancers.  Meeting  a  lancer  and  parrying  his  thrust,  Ponsonby 
made  sure  of  taking  off  the  assailant's  head  en  passant,  with 
"cut  six,"  from  his  powerful  arm.  He  had,  however,  to  do 
with  no  ordinary  adversary  (most  probably  a  Pole) — for  havino- 
given  point  and  being  parried,  the  lancer  held  his  lance  firmly 
under  his  arm,  and  iu  passing  Ponsonby  (for  their  horses  con- 
tinued respectively  their  onward  movements)  struck  him  with 
the  shaft  of  it  a  blow  on  the  temple,  which  knocked  him  off 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  205 

his  horse,  before  the  cut  which  Ponsonby  intended  for  him 
could  take  effect.     This  scene  occupied  scarcely  five  seconds.* 

Skill  in  horsemanship  and  in  the  use  of  his  sabre  are  not, 
it  would  seem,  always  efficacious  in  preserving  him  who  pos- 
sesses them.  Of  this  another  instance  may  be  mentioned  in 
the  death  of  Captain  Newport,  who  fell  in  action  in  the  Penin- 
sular war,  and  who  was  considered  nearly  unrivalled  as  a  horse- 
man and  a  swordsman.  I  remember  speaking  slightingly  of 
a  horseman's  skill  in  combat,  one  day,  in  conversation  with  that 
celebrated  sahreur,  the  late  General  Delahoussaye,  who,  in  the 
wars  of  the  Revolution  and  the  Empire,  had  killed  a  hundred 
men  with  his  own  hand. 

"  Mon  ami,"  said  he,  "you  are  in  error.  The  man  who  is 
sure  of  his  horse,  sure  of  his  eye,  sure  of  his  hand,  and  sure  of 
his  sword,  will  never  be  killed  but  by  a  cannon-ball." 

"  You  do  not  mean,  General,  that  these  render  him  invul- 
nerable V 

"I  do." 

"And  pray.  General,  how  does  it  happen  that  you  have 
this,  and  this,  and  this  wound  ?" 

"  Ah  !  mon  ami,  in  a  vieUe,  skill  is  of  no  use  ;  in  fair  fight- 
ing, it  is  everything.  You  say  truly,  I  have  received  les  qua- 
irc  mendiansjj  but  here  I  am  yet,  you  see." 

To  return  to  Colonel  Ponsonby  at  Waterloo.  Although 
unhorsed,  he  had  been  only  stunned.  After  a  short  time  he 
recovered  his  senses,  and  raising  his  head  to  look  from  above 
the  high  corn  in  which  he  was  embedded,  he  unfortunately 
attracted  the  attention  of  two  other  lancers,  who  (the  12th 
Dragoons  having  retired)  were  at  the  extremity  of  their  regi- 
ment, now  once  more  in  line.  They  rode  at  him  with  fury. 
One  of  them  exclaimed  :  "  Ah  !  b — -. —  !  Tu  n'est  pas  encore 
mort  done  !  Tiens  !"  and  then  dropped  his  lance  into  the 
defenceless  Ponsonby,  who  in  agony  turned  over  on  his  back. 
The  second  lancer  in  like  manner  inflicted  upon  him  a  terrific 
wound.     Thinking  him  killed,  and  another  charge  upon  them 

*  A  similar  circumstance  is  stated,  I  think,  by  Mrs.  Tlieob.ild  Wolfe 
Tone,  in  ber  Memoirs,  to  have  occurred  to  her  son  William,  iu  the  Russian 
campaign  of  1812. 

f  Lea  qnatre  meiidlans  (figs,  nuts,  raisins,  and  almonds)  constitute  the 
cheapest  and  most  general  dessert  furnished  by  the  me(Zi'ocre  restaurants  of 
Paris.  i\Iy  friend,  the  playful  General,  applied  the  term  to  his  wounds 
from  sabre,  bayonet,  musket-ball,  and  cannon-shot. 


206  THE    IRISH 

being  imminent,  they  •without  delay  returned  to  their  places 
in  the  column. 

Dreadful  as  were  his  wounds,  he  sui'vived,  and  was  able  to 
join  his  regiment,  which  had  marched  in  pursuit  of'the  retreat- 
ing French  army,  and  was  quartered  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
I  think,  or  in  the  town  of  Passy,  near  Paris,  in  the  month  of 
August  following.  It  was  a  gala  day  for  the  12th  :  his  arrival 
was  hailed  with  joy  by  the  whole  corps,  and  he  was  entertained 
with  enthusiasm.  The  first  salutations  over,  he  inquired  into 
the  accidents  which  each  had  encountered  during  the  memo- 
rable 18th  of  June.  From  that  of  the  officers,  Ponsonby 
turned  to  the  conduct  of  his  soldiers,  who  were  chiefly  Irish. 
"  Apropos,"  said  he,  turning  to  Captain  Andrews,  son  of  a 
Dublin  alderman  and  brewer  of  that  name,  "  is  there  not  in 
your  troop  a  soldier  of  the  name  of  John  Murphy  ?" 

''Yes." 

"  Parade  him." 

The  man  came.  Ponsonby  looked  at  him  for  a  moment, 
and  turning  to  Andrews,  said  :  "  That  is  not  the  man." 

"  There  is  another  John  Murphy  in  my  troop,"  said 
Andrews. 

"  Let  him  come." 

The  first  soldier  retired,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  burly, 
comical-looking  young  fellow  of  some  five-and-twenty  years. 
The  Colonel  regarded  him  earnestly,  and,  after  a  careful  exa- 
mination of  his  countenance,  said  :  "  You  may  go." 

When  he  was  out  of  hearing,  Ponsonby  said  :  "  That  is  one 
of  the  bravest  and  one  of  the  oddest  fellows  I  have  ever  seen. 
While  lying  on  my  back  wounded,  our  regiment  charged  the 
lancers  a  second  time,  as  you  will  recollect.  This  Mr.  Murphy, 
cut  off  from  his  troop,  was  attacked  close  to  the  spot  where  I 
lay  by  two  of  them.  He  used  his  sword,  as  I  suppose  he  would 
have  done  a  shillelah  in  a  row  at  a  fair,  knocking  the  lances 
alternately  aside,  "  mill  fashion,"  and  with  a  rapidity  which 
made  their  thrusts  harmless.  His  enemies  kept  poking  at  him 
for  some  time,  and  compelled  on  his  part  only  defensive  mea- 
sures. At  length  his  classic  recollections  came  to  his  aid  (I 
would  swear  the  fellow  had  read  Virgil),  and  he  feigned  a 
retreat.  He  was  pursued ;  when  wheeling  round  at  the  proper 
moment,  and  parrying  the  lance  of  the  foremost  of  his  pur- 
suers, he  cut  him  down.  The  second  pressed  on,  and  met  a 
similar  fate,  receiving  from  the  brawny  arm  of  Mui-phy  a  cut 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  207 

which  told  somewhere  near  his  collar  bone,  and  must  have 
divided  him  diap;onnl]y.  His  body  fell  to  the  earth  "without 
groan  or  motion,  and  Murphy,  scarcely  glancing  at  his  handi- 
work, trotted  off,  -whistling  '  the  Grinder/  " 

Everybody  has  heard  that  Napoleon  (although,  'u  order  to 
reassure  him,  he  ridiculed  the  superstitious  feeling  w^ch  came 
over  Lasalle  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Wagram)  was  himself 
a  fatalist,  like  many  other  celebrated  men.  When  at  Monte- 
reau  (near  Fontainebleau),  1814,  he  alighted  from  his  horse, 
and  pointed  a  field-piece  himself  upon  the  advancing  Russians. 
The  artillery  soldiers  expressed  apprehension  for  his  safety, 
their  battery  being  the  object  of  a  cannonade  from  the  enemy 
in  the  plain  below.  *'  Fear  not/'  said  he;  "  the  bullet  that  is 
to  kill  me  is  not  yet  cast." 

"Was  it  fate  that  urged  Captain  Power,  of  the  23d  Light 
Dragoons,  on  the  day  of  the  battle  of  Talavera,  to  mount  his 
horse  and  charge,  in  opposition  to  the  judgment  and  the  advice 
of  his  medical  attendant,  Egan  ?  Was  it  fate  which  similarly 
led  to  the  death,  at  Waterloo,  of  a  very  gallant  officer  (jMon- 
tagu  Lind,  of  the  1st  Life  Guards)  who,  like  him,  rose  from  a 
bed  of  sickness  to  meet  his  death  ? 

He  feared,  perhaps,  that  some  such  spirit  a,g  Hotspur's 
would  exclaim, 

"Zounds  !  how  has  he  leisure  to  be  sick 
In  such  a  justling  time  ?" 

And  before  the  regiment  repaired  to  the  field  he  sent  for  Ned 
Kelly,  his  friend  and  comrade,  to  ask  his  advice.  "  I  am  ill," 
said  he,  "  but  in  this  juncture  a  man  should  be  unable  to  wield 
his  sword  to  justify  his  absence  from  his  regiment." 

"  That  is  my  feeling,  too,"  said  Kelly. 

"  Now,"  continued  Lind,  '^  as  there  is  a  likelihood  of  severe 
service,  I  ask  you  as  a  friend,  a  comrade,  and  a  soldier,  what 
would  you  do  in  my  circumstances  ?" 

Kelly  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "  You  are  able 
to  sit  youi"  horse  for  a  time,  and  to  bear  a  sword  in  command- 
ing, at  least  ?" 

Lind  nodded  assent. 

"Well,  then,  I  would  hire  a  post-chaise  and  would  follow 
the  army,  and  when  the  regiment  was  about  to  charge,  I  would 
mount  my  horse  and  head  my  troop." 

Lind  acted  ou  this  counsel,  and  was  killed  in  the  terrible 


208  THE    IRISH 

charge  of  the    Household  Brigade — '^  the   fighting  1st,  the 
galloping  2d,  and  the  standfast  Blues." 

The  name  of  "  Edward  Kelly"  is  to  be  found  in  the  Duke's 
despatch  from  Waterloo.  But  praised  as  he  was  by  his  chiefs, 
popular,  admii'ed,  and  celebrated  as  he  was  in  London  in  1816 
and  some  years  following  Waterloo,  he  is  scarcely  known  to  the 
rising  generation,  except — possibly — the  mess  of  the  1st  Life 
Guards.  Of  Burford's  clever  panorama  of  the  great  battle, 
and  in  which  Kelly  figured  conspicuously,  there  exists  no  shred 
that  I  know  of.  History,  however,  testifies  to  his  prowess  and 
his  good  fortune  in  contributing  to  the  crowning  success  of 
England  on  the  continent.  Of  him  (a  son  of  whom  Kildare 
may  well  be  proud)  some  particulars  occur  to  me  which  I  have 
never  seen  in  print,  and  which,  referring  to  a  soldier  of  Water- 
loo, will,  I  am  sure,  be  received  with  indulgence  and  read  pro- 
bably with  interest. 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

Fortunae  majoris  honos,  erectus  et  acer. 


CLAt'DIAy. 


CAPTAIN  KELLY  was  presented  to  George  IV.,  then 
Prince  Regent,  in  the  autumn  of  1815,  by  a  personage 
of  a  kindred  spirit,  now  Field-Marshal  the  Marquis  of 
Anglesey  (and  who  had  been  an  eye-witness  of  many  of  his 
deeds  of  arms),  in  these  brief  terms :  "  I  have  the  honour  of 
presenting  to  your  Royal  Highness  the  man  who  rescued  the 
army  from  great  impending  danger  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of 
Waterloo,  and  who,  in  next  day's  engagement,  assisted  power- 
fully in  insuring  its  victory — Captain  Edward  Kelly,  of  his 
Majesty's  I  st  regiment  of  Life  Guards."  Kelly,  in  consequence, 
figured  as  Major  in  the  next  brevet. 

Edward  Kelly  was  of  the  respectable  family  of  that  name 
in  the  county  of  Kildare,  Ireland,  known  as  "  the  Kellys  of 
the  Curragh."  He  entered  young  into  the  army ;  but  of  the 
early  incidents  of  his  career  little  is  known.  I  saw  him  fre- 
quently in  Dublin,  between  1806  and  1811,  when  he  was  on 
the  staff  of  his  noble  and  respected   Colonel,   the    Earl   of 


ABROAD    AND    AT    UOME.  209 

Harrington,  then  commander  of  the  forces  in  Ireland.  It  was 
not,  however,  until  the  year  181C  that  I  made  his  acquaintance, 
in  London,  at  which  period  his  regiment,  the  1st  Life  Guards, 
occupied  Knightsbridge  Barracks.  A  few  months  afterwards 
we  met  at  Bangor,  and  travelled  together  to  Holyhead.  He 
was  then  on  his  way  to  visit  his  friends  and  relatives  in 
Ireland. 

At  that  time  the  only  means  which  offered  for  crossing  the 
Menai  Strait  which  separates  the  Island  of  Anglesey  from  the 
mainland  was  a  ferry  op^^osite  to  Bangor.  The  traj'ei  took  up 
some  twenty  minutes  in  the  finest  weather ;  in  winter  it  was 
a  very  disagreeable  and  tedious  affair.  On  the  occasion  of 
which  I  speak,  it  was  a  pleasant  one,  owing  a  good  deal  to  the 
interesting  conversation  of  ray  gallant  companion. 

From  the  centre  of  the  Menai  looking  to  the  left,  coming 
from  England,  Plasnwydd,  the  seat  of  the  Marquis  of  Anglesey, 
was  discernible.  When  he  was  informed  of  that  fact,  Kelly 
looked  towards  it  with  apparent  interest.  '*'  It  is  the  seat 
then,"  said  he,  "of  one  of  the  bravest  men  who  ever  un- 
sheathed a  sword ;  one  who  distinguished  me  by  companion- 
ship in  danger,  and  to  whom  I  am  indebted,  not  merely  for 
kindness,  but  for  valuable  service."  He  then,  with  modesty, 
referred  to  the  circumstances  in  which  the  friendship  for  him 
of  the  illustrious  Field-Marshal  originated,  but  which,  were 
incomplete.  I  therefore  inquired  of  his  brother  officers  and 
others,  and  learned  the  following  particulars  respecting  their 
introduction  to  each  other. 

In  the  afternoon  of  Saturday,  17th  of  June,  1815,  the 
British  army  was  in  full  movement  towards  the  position 
intended  to.be  occupied  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  was 
pressed  severely  by  the  light  cavalry  of  the  corps  of  Marshal 
Ney.  A  long  line  of  horsemen  occupied  the  road,  and  of  these 
Kelly  was  the  last  man ;  his  troop  of  the  Life  Guards  closing 
the  column.  The  7th  Hussars  (Lord  Uxbridge's  own  regi- 
ment) were  skirmishing  in  the  rear  and  on  the  wings.  Sud- 
denly a  louder  hurrah !  than  usual  struck  Kelly's  ear.  Ho 
turned  and  saw  Lord  Uxbridge,  now  the  Marquis  of  Anglesey, 
alone  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  using  gestures  of  anger,  as 
Kelly  thought,  and  vociferating  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The 
hussars,  born  down  by  superior  force,  were  retreating.  In  the 
distance  a  regiment  of  lancers  were  concentrating,  with  the 
obvious  intention  of  charging  the  rear-guard  of  the  British 


210  THE    IRISH 

army.  Perceiving  the  danger  that  threatened  Lord  Uxbridge 
in  the  first  instance,  and  the  rear  of  the  English  army  in  the 
second,  Kelly  galloped  back,  and  on  arriving  nearer  his  Lord- 
ship, said, 

"  My  Lord,  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  The  regi- 
ment of  lancers  yonder  is  forming,  and  will  be  upon  us 
presently.  Retire  with  me,  and  I  will  halt  the  Life  Guards 
and  charge  under  your  Lordship's  orders." 

"  Do  so,  my  good  fellow,"  said  the  Earl. 

Kelly  jumped  his  horse  over  a  drain  which  skirted  the 
road,  and  which  here  formed  an  angle,  and  galloped  across  the 
distance  which  separated  him  from  his  troop.  On  arriving, 
he  called  "halt!"  in  a  loud  voice,  and  the  regiment  instinc- 
tively obeyed. 

"  Who  cries  '  halt  V  "  asked  Major  Bei'ger,  who  commanded 
the  rear  squadron  of  the  Life  Guards. 

"  1,"  said  Kelly.  "  Look  !  Lord  Uxbridge  awaits  our 
coming  up,  in  order  to  charge  that  body  of  lancers  now,  at  this 
moment,  in  close  column." 

"  The  Life  Guards  must  continue  their  march.  The  hussars 
are  to  cover  the  retreat — not  we." 

"  But  observe  the  danger  to  all,  if  those  fellows  come  upon 
us  unbroken  !" 

"  That  is  not  our  affair." 

"  The  eyes  of  both  armies  are  upon  us.  The  safety  of  our 
own  army  depends  upon  us." 

"  I  repeat  that  is  no  business  of  ours.     Forward  !" 

Kelly,  fvdly  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  crisis 
which  threatened,  indignant  at  the  unseasonable  prudence  of 
his  superior  oflScer,  and  feeling  for  the  reputation  of  the  regi- 
ment, called  out  once  more,  "  Life  Guards,  halt  I"  A  second 
time  he  was  obeyed.  Raising  himself  in  his  stirrups,  and 
holding  his  sword  at  the  utmost  stretch  upwards,  and  then 
brandishing  it,  he  cried  in  a  voice  of  thunder :  "  Men,  will 
you  follow  me  ?"  A  cheer  and  a  wheel  round  responded  to 
his  appeal.  He  formed  them,  and  galloped  up  to  Lord 
Uxbridge,  who  was  still  alone,  with  the  exception  of  his  staff, 
on  the  spot  where  he  had  left  him. 

This  was  perhaps  the  decisive  moment  of  the  fate  of  both 
armies ;  for  by  this  time  the  mass  of  the  enemy's  heavy  cavalry 
were  discovered  rapidly  advancing.  The  lancer  regiment 
already  mentioned  was  now  in  charging   form.      The    Life 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  211 

Guards  made  a  similar  disposition.  Lord  Uxbridge  and  Kelly 
placed  themselves  in  front.  "  Charge  !"  was  uttered  by  both, 
and  at  it  they  went. 

In  this  encounter  the  Colonel  of  the  lancers  fell  by  Kelly's 
own  hand.  The  charge  succeeded  completely.  The  lancers 
were  broken,  overthi-own,  and  dispersed;  and  the  Life  Guards 
receiving  the  thanks,  and  Kelly  a  warm  shake  of  the  hand  of 
Lord  Uxbridge,  resumed  their  place  at  the  rear  of  the  still 
retreating  English  army.  In  this  fashion,  unmolested  during 
the  remainder  of  the  day,  they  reached  the  position  at  Mont 
St.  Jean,  by  their  immortal  chief.  Next  day  the  "  cheese- 
mongers"* gained  further  and  perennial  laurels. 

In  the  charge  against  the  lancers  I  have  just  spoken  of, 
Kelly  escaped  death  by  a  strange  circumstance.  When  about 
to  mount  his  horse  that  morning,  he  found  that  his  cartridge- 
box  was  out  of  order.  Knowing  that  a  brother  officer  (PeiTott) 
was  too  ill  to  march,  Kelly  entered  his  quarters,  and  asked  the 
loan  of  his  cartridge-box.  He  received  it  of  course,  and  throw- 
ing it  over  his  shoulder  hurriedly,  shook  hands  with  Perrott, 
and  dashed  out  of  the  room  in  consequence  of  another  sum- 
mons from  the  trumpet. 

Perrott  was  a  man  hardly  of  the  middle  size ;  Kelly  stood 
sis  feet  high.  This  difference  caused  the  cartridge-box  of 
Perrot  to  hang  scarcely  below  Kelly's  shoulder-blade.  The 
hurry  of  the  march,  and  the  incidents  of  the  day,  prevented 
Kelly's  recollecting  this  circumstance.  After  cutting  down 
the  Colonel  of  the  lancers,  Kelly  was  in  another  second  attacked 
by  a  soldier  of  that  regiment.  With  a  blow  from  his  vigorous 
arm,  which  parried  and  at  the  same  time  shattered  the  lance,f 
Kelly  raised  his  sabre  anew,  and  cut  at  the  lancer;  but  he  was 
too  late.  As  in  the  case  of  Frederick  Pousonby,  this  personal 
rencontre  took  place  while  Kelly  and  his  antagonist  were  re- 
spectively in  rapid  motion ;  and  as  in  the  former  case  too,  the 
Pole  was  too  active  for  his  foe.     Dropping  the  remnant  of  his 

*  Thia  was  a,  friendly  sobriquet,  and  not  a  terra  of  contempt.  The  gal- 
lant 50th  were,  in  a  similar  spirit,  called  "the  dirty  half  hundred."  The 
lOIst  "  the  hundred  and  worst,"  &c. 

f  Kelly  was  on  that  day  mounted  on  a  powerful  black  mare.  When  the 
lancer  gave  point,  Kelly  threw  up  her  head,  and  to  that  movement  possibly 
owed  his  life.  The  lanco  intended  for  him  struck  tlie  marc's  nose,  and  cut 
open  her  head  until  it  passed  between  her  ears.  This  fine  animal,  like  her 
rider,  survived  the  action,  and  was,  for  some  years  afterwards,  an  object  of 
interest  to  the  visiters  of  the  Life  Guards'  stables. 


212  THE    IRISH 

lance,  he,  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  drew  his  sabre,  and 
cut  at  Kelly  as  they  passed.  The  well-aimed  blow  fell  upon 
the  cartridge-box  of  Kelly,  which,  according  to  the  regimental 
regulation,  was  of  massive  silver.  It  was  completely  cut 
through,  but  Kelly  escaped  without  a  scar. 

After  the  second  and  insuhordinate  call  of  Kelly  to  the 
Life  Guards  to  charge,  and  their  equally  disobedient  acquies- 
cence on  the  evening  of  the  17th  of  June  their  chief,  Major 
Berger,  continued  to  ride  at  the  tail  of  the  retreating  column. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  Kelly  was  never  tried  for  breach  of 
discipline,  but  Major  Berger  was  subjected  to  a  court  of  in- 
quiry. The  finding  was  favourable  to  him;  but  he  felt  ob- 
liged, nevertheless,  to  withdraw  from  the  service,  and  sold  his 
commission.  What  remains  to  be  told  of  him  is  lamentable. 
He  was  next  heard  of  as  a  pauper,  applying  for  relief  at  one 
of  the  Loudon  police  ofl&ces,  having  run  through  all  his  money, 
and  become  utterly  destitute.  He  had  the  air  of  a  gentleman, 
and  had  never  been  suspected  of  want  of  courage  before  the 
eve  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 

Major  Berger  owed  his  first  commission  to  a  singular  cir- 
cumstance. In  proceeding  to  London  on  some  grand  occasion, 
George  III.  was  struck  by  the  appearance  of  a  youth  on  the 
parapet  of  a  house  in  the  Strand,  who  had  a  battery  of  small 
cannons,  with  which  he  saluted  His  Majestj',  and  then  hur- 
raed, waving  his  cap  over  his  head.  "  Fine  boy  !  fine  boy  !" 
said  the  King.  "  Make  an  officer  of  him  !"  It  was  done;  and 
this  was  the  unfortunate  Berger,  whose  father  was  a  tradesman 
in  the  Strand. 

In  the  course  of  our  journey  from  Bangor  to  Holyhead,  I 
asked  Kelly,  naturally,  many  questions  about  Waterloo,  for  it 
was  almost  the  only  topic  of  conversation  in  1816.  Amongst 
other  things,  I  iuqviired  whether  all  that  was  said  of  Shaw 
(the  pugilist  and  Life  Guardsman)  was  true  ? 

''I  do  not  know,  but  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  replied  Kelly; 
"every  man  did  his  duty  that  day,  however,  and  none  more 
bravely  than  my  orderly,  Paddy  Halpin."* 

"  What !  were  there  Irishmen  in  the  Life  Guards  ?" 

'•  Yes,  but  not  manv." 

Our  conversation  next  turned  to  the  Peninsular  war,  and 

*  John  Shaw  was  well  known  among  the  pugilistic  corps  of  London 
before  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  Paddy  Halpin  afterwards  figured  in  tho 
same  circle,  but  not  in  the  ring;  only  with  the  gloves,  I  think. 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  213 

then  on  the  qualities  of  the  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch  soldiers. 
''  They  are  all  equally  bravo,"  said  he ;  "  but  they  differ  much 
in  character.  In  Spain,  when  goiug  ray  rounds  as  officer  of 
the  night,  I  found  on  coming  vipon  an  English  regiment,  the 
men  fast  and  confidently  asleep.  On  arriving  at  a  regiment  of 
Highlanders,  they,  too,  would  seem  sound  asleep,  but  I  ob- 
served that  they  were  closely  observing  me.  I  would  go  fur- 
ther, and  from  a  hovel  could  hear  the  sound  of  a  fiddle.  On 
entering,  I  would  find  the  soldiers  of  an  Irish  regiment  engaged 
in  a  country  dance  !  On  remonstrating,  and  telling  them  that 
possibly  we  should  have  an  action  next  day,  and  that  they 
ought  therefore  to  seek  repose,  '  Let  it  come,  sir !'  they  would 
reply.     '  Were  we  ever  backward  ?'  " 

Poor  Kelly !  He  accompanied  that  distinguished  cavalry 
officer,  Lord  Combermere,  to  India,  as  chief  of  his  stafi';  for  in 
Spain,  Kelly's  gallantry  had  become  known  to  his  Lordship. 
Change  of  climate,  advancing  years,  hard  campaigning,  but, 
above  all,  the  untimely  death  of  his  only  sou,  a  young  officer 
of  much  promise,  broke  up  his  iron  frame.  He  never  raised 
his  head  after  his  son's  death ;  and  died  during  the  Burmese 
campaign,  lamented  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Connected  with  this  sad  event  was  a  circumstance  that  may 
have  interest  for  some  of  my  readers.  Immediately  before 
intelligence  of  his  death  reached  Europe,  I  happened  to  meet, 
at  the  Hotel  Quillac,  in  Calais,  a  number  of  Indian  officers, 
who  had  just  arrived  there  on  their  return  home.  On  my  way 
I  inquired  of  them  for  "  Ned  Kelly;"  they  said  that  "  he  was 
pretty  well,  but  much  grieved  in  consequence  of  his  bereave- 
ment." 

A  gentleman  at  another  table  asked  :  "  Is  he  in  low  spirits  ?" 

"Very!" 

"  Then,"  said  the  gentleman,  an  old  soldier,  "  I  am  sorry 
to  say  he  is  '  ordered  to  join.'  I  lament  this,  for  he  was  a 
noble  fellow.  I  have  served  seven-and-twenty  years  in  India, 
myself,  and  have  never  known  a  desponding  invalid  recover, 
nor  a  man  mentally  depressed  to  live  long  in  that  countiy." 

This  prediction  was  verified.  The  next  mail  brought  an 
account  of  the  death  of  Edward  Kelly — "Waterloo  Kelly." 

Seveu-and-thirty  years  have  elapsed  since  the  day  of  Wa- 
terloo, and  yet  the  memory  of  it  is  so  rife,  and  the  interest 
belonging  to  it  so  easily  revived,  and  so  powerful  when  awak- 
ened, that  it  requires  nn  effort  to  detach  oneself  from  it,  having 


214  THE   IRISH 

once  touched  it.  Ireland  is  not  tliought  of  by  foreigners,  nor 
even  by  Englishmen  in  general,  when  speaking  of  that  great 
battle;  and  yet,  more  than  a  moiety  of  the  army  of  Wellington 
throughout  his  career,  and  especially  at  Waterloo,  were,  like 
himself,  Irish.  These  latter  facts  account  for,  and  will,  I  trust, 
excuse  the  length  I  have  permitted  to  mj'-self  in  dealing  with 
an  action  which  changed  the  face  of  Europe. 

Through  what  new  scenes  and  changes  must  we  pass 


=*? 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

No  quid  nimis. 

Terence. 

ENOUGH  of  war,  and  its  atrocious  incidents. 
How  was  Ireland  represented  on  the  Continent  in  other 
circumstances,  while  the  Brigade  was  gathering  laurels  ?  Little 
is  to  be  found  in  France  to  indicate  the  quiet  course  of  the 
convent  and  the  college  in  that  long  interval.  Ireland  gave  to 
France,  Spain,  Italy,  and  Germany,  in  former  times,  savans 
of  celebrity,  saints  and  martyrs ;  but  during  the  last  century 
it  was  treason  to  travel,  and  to  seek  abroad  the  instruction  ne- 
cessary for  the  scientific  student,  or  to  qualify  the  aspirant  for 
sacerdotal  functions.  To  communicate  it  was  consequently 
impossible.  Few  children,  dedicated  to  lay  or  peaceful  pur- 
suits, ventured  to  incur  the  penalty  of  Premunire,  pronounc- 
ed against  all  who  dared  defiance  of  the  alternative  pronounced 
by  the  code  prescribed  for  Ireland — "  Learning  and  Protest- 
antism, or  Ignorance  and  Catholicity."  The  Irish  (or  English) 
Catholic  youth,  to  be  found  in  the  colleges  or  seminaries  of 
France  during  the  eighteenth  century,  were,  generally  speak- 
ins;,  ''intended  for  the  Church."  From  the  accession  of 
George  the  Third,  however,  some  relaxation  of  the  code  was 
observable ;  still  the  prohibitory  law  was  unrepealed,  and  cau- 
tion was  practised  to  conceal  the  evasions  of  it.  One  little 
expedient  was  to  change  the  names  of  the  students,  lest,  by 
some  infidelity,  the  records  of  the  institution  should  be  ab- 
stracted, and  reach  the  hands  of  the  British  government,  and 
denounce  the  offenders.     "Thus,"  said  the  late  Mr.  Francis 


ABROAD    A2>JD    AT    HOME.  215 

Plowdcn,  "  Arthur  Murphy"  (the  dramatist)  became  Arthur 
"  French." — [He  added  those  of  several  others  of  his  coutcm- 
poraries  at  Saint  Omer's;  among  others,  that  of  the  last  Duke 
of  Norfolk  but  one,  but  they  have  escaped  me.]  The  Kem- 
bles  (John  and  Charles)  were,  I  believe,  educated  at  different 
colleges,  and  were  inscribed  under  their  real  names.  Mr. 
Charles  Kemble  is  possibly  the  last  survivor  of  those  who,  at 
Saint  Onier's, 

Were  taught  by  stealth,  and  feared  to  find  it  fame. 

A  late  and  regretted  friend  and  college  contemporary  of 
Charles  Kemble,  used  to  narrate  a  little  vengeance  exercised  by 
them  and  their  comrades  on  the  Benedictine  Friars,  to  whom,  on 
the  banishment  of  the  Jesuits,  the  education  of  youth  was  con- 
fided. The  robes  of  the  Jesuits  were  black,  those  of  the  Bene- 
dictines white.  It  would  appear  that  the  change  was  not  to 
the  taste  of  the  pupils,  for,  as  the  latter  would  pass  by  them, 
they  secretly  and  silently  bespattered  them  with  ink. 

There  are  few  records  of  the  Irish  colleges  of  France  to  be 
found.  In  the  Revolution  everything  of  that  nature  was  de- 
stro^-ed.  That  those  institutions  were  well  conducted,  no  doubt 
can  be  entertained.  The  Colleges  of  Douay,  St.  Omer,  Lille, 
&c.,  scarcely  yielded  to  that  of  Paris  in  rank  among  the  aca- 
demical institutions  of  Europe. 

The  Bevolution,  assuming  nearly  at  its  outset  an  irreligious 
aspect,  was  naturally  viewed  with  horror  at  the  universities 
and  colleges,  presided  over  as  they  were  by  Catholic  clergy- 
men, and  to  this  rule  the  Irish  college  of  Paris  was  not  an 
exception.  The  students  necessarily  became  anti-Revolution- 
ists. Two  instances  of  their  mode  of  evincing  their  hostility 
to  the  great  popular  movement  occur  to  me.  The  first,  involv- 
ing fearful  conseqviences,  compromising  two  of  the  most  illus- 
trious men  of  the  Revolution ;  the  second — the  mere  offspring 
of  an  orr/ie — had  no  important  result,  because  of  the  poli- 
tical "situation;"  it  passed  off  harmlessly  for  the  ofi'euding 
actors  in  it,  and  was  in  fact  the  farce  after  the  tragedy. 

On  Saint  Nicholas's  day,  6th  of  December,  1790,  the  stu- 
dents of  the  Irish  college,  in  virtue  of  that  high  holiday,  repaired 
for  recreation  to  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and  comiucnced  a  game 
at  football — not  the  jeu  au  balon,  as  is  incorrectly  stated  by 
Prudhomme,  and  which  consists  in  thumping  a  large  inflated 
ball  with  the  feet  from  one  player  to  another — but  regular,  down- 


215  THE   IRISH 

riglit  football,  after  the  Irish  fiishion.  In  the  coi:rse  of  the 
game  ("  accidentally  on  purpose,"  I  fear),  the  ball  reached  the 
"  Altar  of  the  Country,"  which  had  remained  in  front  of  the 
Military  School  ever  since  the  grand  federation  of  the  14th  of 
the  preceding  July.  The  ball  v^as  pursued  by  a  stripling  from 
the  county  of  Louth,  named  Charles  O'Reilly,  whom  I  after- 
wards knew,  who  in  his  real  or  pretended  scramble  for  it,  or 
by  a  misdirected  kick  upset — not  a  pedestal,  as  Prudhomme 
says — but  the  statue  of  Liberty  itself,  which  graced  the  altar. 
The  sentinel  on  duty  over  the  sacred  edifice  rushed  upon  the 
oiTender,  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  called  for  the  guard  and 
upon  the  eye-witnesses,  who  were  numerous,  to  aid  him  in 
securing  the  authors  of  this  gross  insult.  The  guard  arrived, 
and  the  spectators  joined  them. 

Three  of  the  prisoner's  friends,  the  late  Doctor  MacMahon, 
J.  J.  Plunkett,  nephew  of  the  late  Catholic  Bishop  of  Meath, 
and  Curtin,  or  MacCurtin,  ran  to  the  rescue.  Their  other 
companions  crowded  around,  explaining  at  the  top  of  their 
voices  how  the  accident,  as  they  persisted  in  calling  it,  occur- 
red. The  soldiers  and  the  spectators  understood  not  a  word 
of  the  explanation,  which  was  given  in  English;  and  the 
students,  raw  levies,  were  for  the  most  part  as  completely 
ignorant  of  French.  The  parties  respectively,  therefore, 
resorted  to  the  expedient  usually  employed  in  such  cases — 
that  is,  they  elevated  their  voices.  This,  however,  did  not 
help  them  as  they  desired,  but  it  had  an  iinfortunate  effect 
upon  the  French  party,  who  imagined  that  the  Irish  were 
cursing,  swearing,  and  abusing  the  French  and  France,  and 
blaspheming  the  altar  of  the  country. 

As  Frenchmen  in  a  passion  are  maniacs,  and  as  their  un- 
fortunate misinterpretation  of  the  young  Irishmen's  language 
greatly  excited  the  anger  of  the  auditors  and  spectators  of  the 
scene,  the  tumult  became  terrific.  The  quarrel  was  a  pretty 
quarrel  as  it  stood,  when  some  misbegotten  knave  of  a  demo- 
crat, observing  the  semi-clerical  costume  of  the  students,  and 
their  round  hats  (cocked  ones  being  the  order  of  the  day), 
cried  out :   ''  Aux  calotins  !  Les  calotins  a  la  lanterne  !"* 

These  awful  sounds  being  understood  by  some  of  the  stu- 
dents, were  explained  to  the  remainder,  and  as,  even  then, 
summary  execution  had  been  done  upon  several  unfortunate 

*  They  are  priests  !   To  the  gallows  with  the  priests ! 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  217 

ecclesiastics,  sauve  qui  petit  ran  through  the  Irish  ranks ;  and 
Avith  the  exception  of  young  O'Reilly,  who  was  in  fault,  they 
immediately  fled.  The  greater  number  escaped;  but  some 
half  dozen  were  captured,  and  would  probably  have  been 
strung  up  (for  the  citizens  were  by  this  time  extremely  in- 
censed), but  for  La  Fayette,  who  thus  justified  in  advance 
Madame  de  Stael's  sneer,  that  he  was  "  like  the  rainbow, 
appearing  always  after  a  storm."  They  were  liberated  in  the 
course  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

'Tis  sport  to  you,  but  death  fo  us. 

Fable  of  the  Frogs. 

ON  St.  Patrick's  Day,  in  the  year  1791,  occurred  the  second 
instance  of  the  "enmity  of  the  Irish  students  for  the 
Revolution ;  and  it  was  even  less  creditable  to  them  than  that 
which  I  have  just  recounted. 

A  party  of  them  dined  at  a  traiteiir's  to  celebrate  the  fete 
of  the  Patron  Sainc  of  their  country  (17th  March.)  They  had 
no  doubt  druni  with  enthusiasm  the  customary  national  toasts, 
and  were  very  noisy  and  very  merry,  when  one  of  them  had 
occasion  to  quit  the  banqueting-room.  On  passing  through 
the  "•eneral  snlh-d-manger,  he  noticed  three  officers  of  the 
National  Guard  at  supper.  Observing  that  they  ate  vora- 
ciously, although  they  had  before  them  only  one  simple  dish, 
spinach,  the  Irishman  looked  with  contempt,  first  at  the  party, 
and  next  at  the  modest  repast.  "  Dry  bread  and  spinach  !" 
exclaimed  he;  "let  us  moisten  the  vegetable  at  any  rate." 
Seeing  a  watering-pot,  kept  at  hand  to  enable  the  waiters  to 
cleanse  the  apartment  when  the  guests  should  have  departed, 
he  seized  it  and  sprinkled  abundantly  the  dish  and  the  plates 
of  the  party.  Astounded  by  the  suddenness  of  the  aggres- 
sion, the  officers  remained  for  a  moment  motionless.  At 
length,  all  rose  and  rushed  to  their  sabres,  which  they  had 
taken  ofi"  and  hung  up  before  commencing  supper.  They 
were  successively  knocked  down  by  the  aggressor.  The  waiters 
rushed  in  on  hearing  the  noise,  and  the  other  students  came 
10 


218  THE    IRISH 

to  the  aid  of  their  culpable  companion,  on  whose  head  and 
shoulders  blows  began  to  be  unmercifully  showered.  A 
general  fight  now  ensued,  many  wounds  were  inflicted,  and 
several  of  the  combatants  had  already  fallen,  when  a  detach- 
ment of  soldiers  from  the  Luxembourg  arrived,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  affray,  carrying  off  to  the  guard-house  the  rioters, 
and,  shutting  them  up  in  the  violon  (blackhole),  left  them  to 
their  reflections,  as  they  remarked.  But  this  was  a  miscalcu- 
lation, for  the  incarcerated  students  continued  for  au  hour  oi 
two  alternately  quarrelling  among  themselves,  and  singing. 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  however,  they  appeared 
to  have  recovered  their  senses,  and  were  then  regaled  with  a 
promise  that  they  should  be  brought  before  the  ti'ibunal  for 
assaulting  and  maltreating  peaceful  citizens,  and  for  vilifying 
the  Republic  ia  several  languages. 

A  council  of  war  was,  therefore,  immediately  held,  the 
result  of  which  was  a  letter  to  the  British  Ambassador,  the 
Duke  of  Dorset,  representing  the  facts  of  the  case,  with  be- 
coming expressions  of  humility  and  repentance.  The  Duke 
was,  however,  in  England,  but  his  Secretary  of  Embassy,  Sir 
Charles  Whitworth  (afterwards  Lord  Whitworth,  and  Lord- 
lieutenant  of  Ireland),  repaired  to  the  Minister  for  Foreign 
Affairs,  and  so  successfully  pleaded  their  cause  that  they  were 
discharged  with  a  simple  admonition. 

I  am  not  certain  that  there  is  anything  excusable  in  the 
disorders  of  tipsy  Irishmen  on  ''  Patrick's  Day."  Sure  I  am 
that  the  indulgence  extended  to  the  party  just  mentiontd  in 
a  foreign  country,  too,  and  at  a  period  of  considerable  political 
excitement,  has  no  parallel  nearer  home.  The  remorseless  use 
made  of  their  staves  on  the  heads  of  unfortunate  Irish  drunk- 
ards, by  the  London  police,  on  such  occasions,  has  frequently 
made  my  blood  boil  with  indignation,  however  disposed  I 
might  be  to  blame  and  punish  riot  and  tappage.  "  They  order 
these  matters  better  in  France,"  however,  and  in  Spain,  too, 
as  I  shall  proceed  to  show. 

A  detachment  (two  battalions)  of  the  Irish  Regiment  in 
the  French  service,  was  quartered  in  the  city  of  Buro-os,  in 
the  month  of  March,  1810.  On  St.  Patrick's  Day  the  officers 
of  it  presented  to  their  soldiers  so  many  skins  of  wine,  with 
which  to  celebrate  the  festival,  that — literally,  "  every  man  had 
his  skinful" — to  the  great  damage  of  their  understandings. 
The  consequence  was  a  sortie  of  the  whole  party  after  they  had 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  219 

finished  their  potations,  and  an  indiscriminate  assault  upon 
every  person  they  met  in  the  streets.  Burgos  is — ever3'hody 
knows — a  fortified  town.  The  Commandant,  a  wary  old 
Frenchman,  sent  a  sufficient  force  to  quell  the  riot,  which  was 
done  ;  and  the  principals  in  it,  who  were  numerous,  were  con- 
veyed to  the  city  prison,  and  confined  in  the  violon.'^ 

It  so  happened  that  shortly  after  their  imprisonment  in  the 
blackhole,  a  Spanish  friar  was  brought  before  the  Commandant 
charged  with  being  a  brigand — the  polite  term  applied  by  the 
French  to  those  who  were,  in  fact,  patriots.  He,  also,  was 
ordered  to  the  violon.  He  arrived  within  it  precisely  at  the 
moment  when  there  was  a  general  row  among  its  previous  occu- 
pants, accompanied  by  exclamations  and  expressions  in  English, 
of  which  he  had  a  smattering,  and  in  another  language  quite 
unknown  to  him,  and  which,  in  the  darkness  that  prevailed, 
had,  in  his  conception,  something  unearthly.  Presently  he 
was  knocked  down  by  an  accidental  blow;  a  fierce  engagement 
took  place  in  his  immediate  vicinity,  and  a  series  of  assaults 
and  retreats  was  performed  over  his  body.  Several  of  the 
combatants  fell  upon  him ;  he  became  a  mass  of  contusions. 
At  length  his  screams  were  heard  by  the  Spanish  turnkeys, 
who  opened  the  door  and  removed  him  in  a  piteous  plight. 
Covered  with  blood  and  dust,  he  was  once  more  led  before  the 
Commandant,  who  laughed  loudly  at  the  woful  appearance  he 
pi'esented ;  a  favourable  indication  for  the  prisoner,  but  who 
misunderstood  it. 

The  friar  stood  aghast.  He  had  hoped  for  sympathy,  but 
met  with  derision  as  he  conceived.  Gravely  addressing  the 
Commandant,  he  said :  "  Sir,  from  Frenchmen  I  expected 
treatment  difi'erent  fi'om  that  which  I  have  experienced." 

"  You  believed,  probably,  that  you  would  be  shot.  Per- 
haps you  may  not  be  disappointed." 

"  God's  will  be  done  !  For  that  I  was  not,  I  tnist,  quite 
unprepared;  but  I  never  heard  that  the  French  tortured  their 
prisoners." 

''  Tortured  !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

''  The  moment  I  entered  the  prison-walls,  within — I  was 
beset  by  a  legion  of  your  torturers.  At  one  moment  I  thought 
they  were  fiends ;  but  my  reason  came  to  my  aid.  and  I  dis- 
covered that  they  were  mere    executioners,   and   in   human 

«  Blackholo. 


220  THE    IRISH 

shape.  They  howled,  they  kicked,  they  fought,  they  danced 
— for  the  most  part  on  my  body;  they  swore,  they  blas- 
phemed, some  of  them  in  French,  others  in  English,  but  the 
greater  number  in  an  unknown  tongue,  while  they  pummelled 
and  beat  me  into  a  jelly.     Look  here,  Commandant." 

The  Commandant,  on  the  first  occurrence  of  the  disorder, 
had  sent  for  some  of  the  officers  of  the  Irish  regiment,  and 
had  received  from  them  an  account  of  the  cause  of  the 
outrages  that  had  been  committed,  with  a  request  that  the 
oiFenders  should  be  kept  in  custody  till  next  day.  He  now 
raised  his  eyes  and  fixed  them  upon  the  man  whom,  half  an 
hour  before,  he  had  seen  enveloped  in  a  whole  and  decent 
habit,  of  solemn  and  respectable  demeanor,  now  literally  in 
rags,  covered  with  blood,  mud,  and  bruises,  and  his  hair  and 
beard  thinned  by  the  wild  men  among  whom  he  had  been 
thrown.  The  functionary  fell  back  in  his  chair  screaming 
with  laughter.  On  this  the  Spaniard  drew  himself  up ;  but 
this  assertion  of  dignity  only  increased  the  Frenchman's 
gayety.  As,  however,  even  mirth  must  have  an  end,  he  at 
length  addressed  the  indignant  priest  in  the  following  words  : 

"  You  were  perfectly  right  in  your  opinion  of  the  French  : 
they  never  torture  their  prisoners.  You  were  quite  as  wrong, 
however,  in  surmising  that  those  who  maltreated  you  were 
executioners  inflicting  a  sentence :  they  were  simply  out  of 
their  minds  through  temporary  intoxication,  and  when  restored 
to  their  senses,  will  deeply  lament  the  outrages  of  which  they 
were  guilty  towards  you.  Your  being  placed  in  their  vicinity 
was  an  accident.  You  have  suffered  much,  and  I  have  been 
the  innocent  cause  of  it;  I  shall  make,  therefore,  the  best 
reparation  in  my  power.  You  have  been  sadly  punished,  but 
are  now  free.  Go  and  tell  your  countrymen  that  the  French 
can  be  humane.  Tell  them  also  to  avoid  the  society  of  Irish- 
men on  the  17th  of  !March,  for  I  have  just  learnt  from  Cap- 
tain Ware,  that  all  his  countrymen  are  seized  with  insanity 
on  that  day." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  221 


CHAPTER  L. 

Oh  pardon  uie,  thou  bleeding  piece  of  earth, 
That  I  am  meek  and  gentle  with  these  butchers : 
AVoe  to  the  hand  that  shed  this  costly  blood ! 
Over  thy  wounds  now  do  I  prophesy, 
Which  like  dumb  mouths  do  ope  their  ruby  lips 
To  beg  the  voice  and  utterance  of  my  tongue. 
A  curse  shall  light  upon  the  limbs  of  men ; 
Domestic  fury  and  fierce  civil  strife, 
Blood  and  destruction  shall  bo  so  in  use 
That  mothers  shall  but  smile  when  they  behold 
Their  infants  quartered  with  the  hand  of  War, 
All  pity  choak'd  with  custom  of  fell  deed. 


One  struggle  more,  and  I  am  free 

From  pangs  that  rend  my  heart  in  twain. 


Julius  Ccesar 


Byron. 


ARRIVING  in  Paris  shortly  after  the  peace  of  1815,  I 
sought  a  coiinti-yman  and  friend  who  had  served  in  the 
French  army  with  distinction  from  the  year  1803,  and  to  whom 
I  am  indebted  for  much  that  I  know  respecting  the  Irish 
abroad.  Among  other  advantages  that  I  owe  him,  was  my 
introduction  to  the  Irish  College.  On  an  appointed  day  we 
were  wending  our  way  thither,  when,  on  the  Estrapade,*  we 
saw  approaching  us  an  elderly,  plain-looking  man,  rather  low 
in  stature,  wearing  a  gown  of  questionable  colour,  and  a 
shocking  bad  hat.  He  carried  a  bundle  in  his  hand,  and 
seemed  absorbed  and  at  the  same  time  in  a  hurr3^  The 
moment  my  friend  perceived  him  he  said :  "  Here  comes 
the  principal  of  those  to  whom  I  was  about  to  introduce 
you ;  a  warm-hearted  and  in  every  other  way  favourable 
specimen  of  our  countrymen  abroad ;  the  superior  of  the  Irish 
College." 

*  This  is  the  name  of  a  street  which  rose  precipitately  from  the  Place 
St.  Michel  to  the  Rue  des  Postes,  in  which,  and  the  Rue  des  Irlandais,  run- 
ning into  it,  the  Irish  College  is  situated.  Recent  improvements  have, 
however,  changed  that  reproach  considerably.  The  Estrapade  was  the 
theatre  of  military  punishments  in  former  days.  The  reader  will  remember 
fat  Jack  Falstaflf's  exclamation:  "Were  I  at  the  Strapado,  and  all  the 
backs  in  the  world  !" 


222  THE    IRISH 

'^Impossible  I" 

''  I  grant  you  that  he  has  none  of  the  outer  appearances 
of  a  functionary  of  that  class,  such  as  you  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  behold  in  Dublin  or  Maynooth,  in  Cambrid,o;e  or 
Oxford.  He  is,  however,  a  learned,  and  what  is  in  my  mind 
better,  a  liberal,  charitable,  benevolent  man,  ever  engaged  in 
acts  of  kindness,  especially  where  his  own  countrymen  ara 
concerned." 

By  this  time  we  had  come  up  to  him.  My  friend,  after 
the  first  salutation,  said  :  "  Monsieur  1' Abbe,  will  you  allow  me 

to  present  to  you  my  friend,  our  countryman,  Mr. ?"   The 

Abb6  gave  him  one  hand,  and,  looking  sheepishly  all  the 
while,  hastily  put  the  other  which  held  the  bundle  behind  his 
back.  He  then  extended  to  me  the  one  which  my  friend  had 
imprisoned,  inquiring  how  long  I  had  been  in  Paris  ? 

"  What  have  you  got  there.  Abbe  ?"  asked  my  friend,  with 
a  smile,  pointing  to  the  concealed  hand. 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  he  blushing,  and  with- 
drawing it,  showed  that  it  held  a  much  worn  black  coat  and 
shorts  tied  together  with  packthread.  "  I  am  taking  these  to 
a  poor  fellow,  Paddy  Collins,  to  whom  they  will  be  welcome, 
for  they  are  necessary.  I  would  have  preferred  giving  him 
money,  for  I  cannot  well  spare  them ;  but,  by  the  way,  you 
have  not  named  me  to  your  friend." 

'■'■  I  beg  pardon  of  both,"  was  the  reply.  '■'■  This,"  said  my 
friend,  looking  from  me  to  the  priest,  "  this  is  the  worthy  Abb^ 
Kearney." 

"Pooh,  pooh!"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "Don't  mind 
him ;  he  was  always  a  flatterer.  If  he  had  not  been  a  '  yellow- 
belly'  (Wexford  man,  you  know),  one  would  say  that  he  had 
licked  the  Blarney  stone."* 

My  friend  had  spoken  truly  of  the  venerable  priest.  I  was 
favoured  with  permission  to  call  upon  him  when  I  would,  and 
passed  in  his  company  very  many  most  agreeable  hours.  He 
was  full  of  anecdote;  he  had  lived  long  in  Paris;  had  seen 
and. felt  much,  and  was,  when  drawn  out,  communicative;  but 
he  was  diffident ;  and  not  wishing  to  be  too  inquisitive,  I 
omitted  opportunities  while  in  his  society  of  learning  particu- 
lars of  the  great  Revolution  now  lost  for  ever. 

For  the  honour  of  Ireland,  two  of  her  sons,  the  celebrated 

*•  A  figurative  expression,  applied  to  persons  addicted  to  paying  extra- 
vagant compliments. 


ABROAD    A]M1>    AT    HOME.  223 

Abb6  Edgeworth  and  this  simple,  retiring  individual  were  in 
attendance  on  the  unfortunate  King  Louis  XVI.  of  France,  at 
the  moment  of  his  execution.  History  mentions  the  Abb6 
Edgeworth  only,  but  the  second,  the  Abb6  Kearney,  was  also 
present ;  not  officially,  for  the  powers  which  then  ruled  would 
have  rejected  a  demand  for  a  plurality  of  confessors  or 
chaplains,  and  would  probably  have  refused  permission  for 
even  one  to  approach  their  august  victim.  The  Abbe  Kearney's 
presence  was  therefore  voluntary;  but  I  recollect  his  saying 
that  if  not  desired  by,  it  was  known  to  the  King  that  he 
wished  to  attend,  and  assist  at  that  lamentable  sacrifice. 

The  conduct  of  the  Abbe  Edgeworth  on  that  heart-rending 
occasion,  is  well  known.  He  united  the  most  ardent  zeal  of  a 
minister  of  religion,  to  courage  and  devotion  to  his  royal 
patron  in  the  presence  of  his  own  almost  certain  death.  These, 
together  with  his  other  claims  on  respect,  are  inseparably  con- 
nected with  an  event,  the  history  of  which  insures  immortality 
to  him,  and  sheds  lustre  on  his  country. 

Respecting  the  execution  of  the  unhappy  monarch  Louis 
XVL,  I  spoke  to  the  Abbe  Kearney  moi'c  than  once.  His 
replies  were  brief,  and  were  accompanied  by  evidence  that  the 
subject  caused  him  much  pain.  The  following  simple  narra- 
tive is  all  that  I  could  obtain  from  him. 

"I  arrived,"  said  he,  ''in  the  Place  de  la  R(§volution  before 
the  King,  and  managed  to  reach  the  scaffold  just  as  the  car- 
riage in  which  he  sat  with  the  Abbe  Edgeworth  and  two 
gendarmes  approached  from  the  Rue  Royale.  The  front  ranks 
of  the  crowd  which  surrounded  the  scaffold  were  principally 
sans-cnlottes,  who  evinced  the  most  savage  joy  in  anticipation 
of  the  impending  tragedy. 

"  The  scaffold  was  so  situated  as  to  provide  for  the  royal 
sufferer  a  pang  to  which  less  distinguished  victims  were  insen- 
sible. It  stood  between  the  pedestal  on  which  had  been 
<"  -""cted  a  statue  of  Louis  XV.  (overthrown  early  in  the  Revo- 
I'ltion),*  and  the  issue  from  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  called 
the  Pont  Tournant.  IMidway  between  those  two  points,  a 
hideous,  soi-dimnt  statue  of  Liberty  raised  her  Gorgon  head. 
This  situation  was  chosen  in  order  to  realize  a  conception 
characteristic  of  the  epoch  and  the  frantic  fiends  who  figured 
in  it.     It  insured  that  the  unhappy  persons,  on  being  placed 

*  The  site  of  the  obelisk  brought  from  Thebes,  which  was  placed  on  it 
in  1836. 


224  '  THE   IRISH 

on  the  bascule  of  the  guillotine,  should,  in  their  descent  from 
the  perpendicular  to  the  horizontal  when  pushed  home  to 
receive  the  fatal  stroke,  make  an  obeisance  to  the  goddess ! 
Yes,  even  to  that  frivolity  in  a  matter  so  appalling  did  the 
monsters  directing  those  butcheries  resort. 

"  For  the  King  this  position  of  the  guillotine  was  therefore 
peculiarly  painful,  for,  looking  beyond  the  statue  of  Liberty, 
the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  grand 
avenue,  and  upon  it  his  last  glance  in  this  world  must  have 
rested. 

"  Scarcely  had  the  King  descended  from  the  coach,  when 
Samson,  the  executioner,  and  his  aids  approached  him  to  make 
his  '  toilette,'*  as  the  preparation  of  the  victim  for  death  was 
termed.  He  had  a  large  head  of  hair,  confined  by  a  ribbon 
according  to  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Upon  this  Samson  seized 
with  one  hand,  brandishing  a  pair  of  huge  scissors  in  the 
other.  The  King,  whose  hands  were  yet  free,  opposed  the 
attempt  of  Samson  to  cut  ofi"  his  hair,  a  precaution  necessary, 
however,  to  insure  the  operation  of  the  axe.  The  executioner's 
assistants  rushed  upon  him.  He  struggled  with  them  violently 
and  long,  but  was  at  length  overcome  and  bound.  His  hair 
was  cut  off  in  a  mass  and  thrown  upon  the  ground.  It  was 
picked  up  by  an  Englishman  who  was  in  front  of  the  scaffold, 
and  who  put  it  in  his  pocket,  to  the  scandal  of  the  sans-culottes, 
who  like  him  were  in  the  first  rank  of  spectators.  As  we  never 
heard  more  about  the  circumstance,  I  suppose  the  unhappy 
Anglais  was  murdered.  When  the  bustle  occasioned  by  this 
incident  was  over,  the  King  ascended  the  scaffold.  All  that 
followed  with  reorard  to  him  is  well  known." 

"Is  it  not  true,  Abbe,"  said  I,  "that  the  Abbe  Edgeworth 
uttered,  as  the  King  was  mounting  the  short  flight  of  steps 
leading  to  the  scaffold,  those  sublime  words  of  encouragement, 
*  Fils  de  Saint  Louis,  montez  au  ciel  1'  " 

"No,"  he  replied;  "but  while  the  King  was  struggling 
with  the  executioner  and  his  men,  as  I  have  just  described, 
the  Abbe  Edgeworth  recommended  resignation  to  him,  adding 
(and  these  words  suggested  possibly  the  phrase  ascribed  to 
him)  :  '  You  have  only  one  sacrifice  more  to  make  in  this  life 
before  you  enjoy  life  eternal — submit  to  it.' 

"  The  execution  over,  the  Abbe  Edgeworth  and  I  were 

*  Another  of  the  horrible  gayeties  of  the  time.     The  guillotine  itself 
was  called  "  the  national  window"  by  some — "  the  national  razor"  by  others ! 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  225 

advised  to  withdraw  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  suppose  the 
illustrious  Maleshcrbes  was  present  to  take  a  last  farewell  of 
his  royal  master  and  client,  for  the  cloak  of  his  coachman  was 
obtained  and  cast  round  Edgeworth,  under  favour  of  which  he 
retired.  Nevertheless  he  must  have  been  pursued,  for  he  found 
it  necessary  to  take  refuge  in  a  little  milliner's  shop,  in  the 
Rue  du  Bac,  whence  by  a  back  door  he  made  his  escape." 

'^  And  you?" 

"I  reached  home  safely,  but  was  subsequently  arrested, 
and  passed  three  years  in  the  Temple." 

This  account  of  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI.  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  all  those  pubHshed  on  the  subject,  except  that 
it  demolishes  the  memorable  exclamation  attributed  to  the 
Abbe  Edgeworth,  which,  had  I  not  reliance  upon  the  veracity 
of  the  Abbe  Kearney,  there  appear  many  I'easons  for  believing 
was  not  uttered. 

The  fact  of  the  cutting  off  the  hair  of  the  King  immedi- 
ately before  his  death,  and  his  resistance,  are  exactly  borne 
out  by  M.  Thiers,  who  thus  describes  the  occurrences  in  the 
Conciergerie,  before  the  departure  for  the  scaffold : — 

'^  It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  at  the 
Temple.  The  King  awoke,  called  Clery,  his  valet  de  chamhre, 
asked  him  what  o'clock  it  was,  and  dressed  himself  with  the 
utmost  calmness.  He  congratulated  himself  upon  having  re- 
covered his  strength  by  sleep.  Clery  lighted  the  fire,  and  then 
brought  in  a  small  chest  of  drawers,  of  which  to  make  an  altar. 
The  Abb6  Edgeworth,  who  had  passed  the  night  in  the  prison, 
put  on  his  vestments,  and  commenced  celebrating  Mass,  which 
Clery  '  served,'  and  which  the  King  heard,  kneeling,  with  the 
utmost  fervour.  He  afterwards  received  the  communion  from 
the  hands  of  M.  Edgeworth,  and  Mass  being  over,  rose  full  of 
restored  strength,  and  waited  tranquilly  the  moment  for  pro- 
ceeding to  the  scaffold.  He  asked  tor  a  pair  of  scissors  to  cut 
off  his  hair  himself,  and  thus  escape  that  humiliating  operation 
at  the  hands  of  the  executioner;  but  the  authorities  refused 
it,  fearing  that  he  would  commit  suicide." 

After  his  release  from  the  Temple,  the  Abbe  Kearney  ap- 
pears to  have  been  an  object  of  suspicion  for  every  government 
of  France  which  followed  to  the  period  of  the  Restoration.  On 
the  occurrence  of  every  emeute,  or  the  discovery  of  every  con- 
spiracy, he  was  taken  into  custody  as  a  matter  of  course.  On 
10  * 


226  THE   IRISH 

the  explosion  of  the  Infernal  Machine — that  incident  so  fatal 
to  many  innocent  persons,  and  so  disgraceful  to  the  partisans 
of  the  Bourbon  dynasty — the  Abb6  Kearney  was  one  of  the 
first  of  the  many  suspected  persons  who  were  arrested. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  my  old  quarters  in  the  Temple,"  said 
he  to  me,  "  accompanied  by  two  police  agents  in  coloured 
clothes,  who  allowed  me  to  walk  before  them  free.  On  cross- 
ing the  Pont  Neuf,  I  saw  approaching  a  former  friend  and 
pupil,  Mathieu  de  Montmorency.  He  drew  up,  and  as  I  passed 
close  to  him  said,  in  an  under-tone,  in  English  (a  language  I 
had  taught  him)  :  '■  Unhappy  man  !  I  know  whither  you  are 
going.  Will  they  never  allow  you  to  be  quiet  V  Now  I  had 
no  knowledge  of — nothing  whatever  to  do  with — the  Infernal 
Machine,"  added  the  Abb6. 

He  did  not  remain  long  in  prison  on  this  charge.  The  real 
authors  of  the  atrocious  deed  were  discovered,  and  several  of 
them  met  the  just  punishment  of  their  crime.  The  man  who 
actually  fired  the  match  by  which  it  was  made  to  explode, 
however,  escaped.  I  found  him  one  day,  in  the  year  18o5,  at 
the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  Lewis  Goldsmith,  in  Paris,  who 
introduced  him  to  me.  He  was  a  rather  shrewd-looking  man, 
of  apparently  a  low  class  in  society. 

The  Abb6  Kearney  died  in  Paris,  in  the  year  1827,  and 
was  buried  in  the  vaults  of  the  Irish  College. 

The  Abb6  Edgeworth  remained  concealed  in  Paris  after 
the  slaughter  of  his  original  penitent  the  admirable,  heroic, 
saint-like  Princess  Elizabeth,  the  purest  victim  offered  on  the 
Revolutionary  scafi"old,  to  whom  he  owed  his  introduction  to 
her  brother  the  King.  During  the  sixteen  months  which 
elapsed  between  the  execution  of  her  brother  and  her  own 
death,  the  Abbe  Edgewoi'th  contrived  to  correspond  with  and 
console  her.  His  mission  being,  as  he  considered,  terminated 
with  her  sacrifice,  on  the  10th  of  May,  1794,  he  retired  into 
Germany,  and  continued  attached  to  the  Princes  and  the 
French  soldiers  who  fought  under  them  during  twelve  or 
thirteen  years.  He  died  at  Mittau,  the  capital  of  Courland, 
of  a  fever  caught  while  attending  some  wounded  French 
soldiers. 

On  his  tomb  is  engraved  the  following  epitaph,  composed 
on  the  spot  by  King  Louis  XVIII. ,  in  testimony  of  his  afi"ec- 
tion  and  esteem  for  the  illustrious  defunct : — 


ABROAD    AND   AT   HOME.  227 

D.  0.  M. 


HIC  JACET 

KEVERENDISSIMtJS  VIR 

HENRICTTS  ESSEX  EDGEWORTH  DE  FIRMONT, 

SANCT.E  DEI  ECCLESI^  SACERDOS, 

VICARIUS  GENERALIS  ECCLESI^  PARISIENSI9,  ETC. 

QUI 

REDEMPTORIS  NOSTRI  VESTIGIA  TENENS 

OCULUS  C^CO, 

PES  CLAUDO, 

PATER  PAUPERmi, 

MCERENTIUU  CONSOLATOR, 

FUIT. 

LUDOVICUM  XVI. 

AB  IMPIIS  REBELLIBUSQUE  SUBDITIS 

MORTI  DEDITUM 

AD  ULT1MU5I  CERTAMEN 

nOBORAVIT, 

STREXUOQTJE  MARTYRI  CCELOS  APERTOS 

OSTENDIT. 

E  MANIBCS  REGICIDARUM 

MIRA  DEI  PROTECTIONE 

EREPTUS, 

LUDOVICO  XVIII. 

BUM     AD     SE     VOCANTI 

ULTRO  ACCURRENS, 

EI  PER  DECE5I  ANNOS, 

REGI.E     EJUS      FAMILIvE, 

NECNON  ET  FIDELIBUS  SODALIBUS, 

EXEMPLAR  VIRTUTUM 

LEVAMEN  MALORUM, 

SESE  PR^BUIT. 

PER  MULTAS  ET  VARIAS  REGIONES  ' 

TEMPORUM  CALAMITATE 

ACTUS, 

ILLI  QUEM  SOLUM  COLEBAT 

SEMPER   SIMILIS, 

PERTRANSIIT  BEXEFACIENDO. 

PLEXUS  TANDEM  BONIS  OPERIBUS 

OBIIT 

DIE    22    MAII    MENSIS 

Airao  DOMINI,  1807, 

JETATIS  VERO  80^,  62. 

REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE! 


228  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  LI. 

None  are  all  evil — quickening  round  his  heart 
One  softer  feeling  would  not  yet  depart. 

Byron  {The  Corsair). 

COINCIDENTALLY  witli  my  iutroduction  to  the  Abbe 
Kearney,  President  of  the  Irisli  College,  was  my  presenta- 
tion to  its  physician.  Doctor  Patrick  MacMahon,  late  librarian 
of  the  School  of  Medicine,  Paris,  of  whom  no  superior  in 
warmth  of  heart,  benevolence,  kindness,  and  love  of  country 
has  appeared  among  the  Irish  abroad. 

Doctor  MacMahon  was  nephew  of  an  Irish  physician  (of 
the  name  of  O'Reilly,  I  believe)  attached  to  the  Court  of 
Louis  XVI.,  which  fact  in  the  Reign  of  Terror  caused  him  to 
be  included  among  the  suspects;  at  which  period,  to  be 
suspected,  denounced,  brought  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  condemned,  and  sent  to  the  scaffold,  was  in  the 
ordinary  and  daily  routine.  Participating  in  the  suspicion 
resting  upon  his  uncle,  because  of  their  relationship.  Doctor 
MacMahon  sought  safety  in  concealment. 

During  many  months  he  contrived  to  evade  discovery.  At 
length,  fatigued  with  confinement,  he  took  advantage  of  the 
diversion  caused  by  the  celebrated  declaration  of  Danton : 
"La  patrie  est  en  danger !"  to  steal  forth  one  evening,  and  to 
enter  a  little  traifeur's  in  the  place  St.  Michel,  for  the  restau- 
rant had  not  yet  been  invented.  In  order  to  escape  notice  he 
chose  a  table  at  a  corner  at  the  remotest  part  of  the  dining- 
room,  and,  through  necessity,  as  he  would  have  done  from 
prudence  at  that  period,  when  none  dare  display  wealth  or 
fastidiousness,  ordered  a  moderate  and  humble  repast,  in 
keeping  with  the  public  taste  and  discretion  of  the  day. 

He  had  successfully  gotten  through  his  modest  refection, 
disturbed  occasionally  perhaps  by  the  entrance  of  some  of  the 
fearful  agents  of  terror,  by  whom  he  was  not,  however,  noticed. 
At  length,  about  eight  o'clock,  when  about  to  rise  from  table, 
he  saw  a  man  bearing  a  tricolored  sash,  the  emblem  of  autho- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  229 

ritj,  enter  the  room  and  strut  towards  the  place  in  which  he 
was  seated,  looking  with  a  scowl  upon  the  assembled  guests, 
who  crouched  beneath  it.  In  this  person  MacMahon  recog- 
nised one  of  the  most  renowned  sans-culottes  of  the  quarter. 
He  gave  himself  up  for  lost  when  the  man  approached  him, 
but  was  somewhat  reassured  by  the  haughty  bearing  of  the 
visiter,  who  seemed  to  overlook  a  being  so  humble  as  himself. 
When,  however,  he  had  reached  the  lowest  part  of  the  hall, 
the  man  turned  on  his  heel,  and  in  so  doing  touched  MacMa- 
hon, to  whom  he  said,  in  almost  indistinct  terms,  "  Follow  me  !" 

'''  Alas  I"  thought  poor  MacMahon,  '^  and  this  is  the  result 
of  my  daring  !     Heaven  help  me  \" 

He  rose,  however,  and  paying  his  bill  at  the  bar,  left  the 
house.  The  streets  were  badly  lighted  at  that  period  ;  lamps 
(lanternes)  suspended  over  the  centre  of  the  street  by  cords 
at  very  distant  intervals,  served  with  little  more  effect  than  to 

"Make  darkness  visible." 

He  perceived,  on  quitting  the  house,  that  the  official  whose 
command  he  had  obeyed  had  placed  himself  in  the  part  of  the 
street  most  in  shade.  This  gave  MacMahon  a  glimmer  of 
hope,  and  supplied  him  with  strength  to  comply  with  a  signal 
to  approach.  When  he  had  come  close  to  him,  the  man  said, 
in  a  stern  voice  :   "  What  do  you  here  ?" 

"  I  was  nearly  tired  of  my  life,"  said  MacMahon. 

"I  should  think  so,"  interrupted  the  man. 

''  And  I  stole  abroad  to  breathe  the  air  for  a  moment,  and 
to  obtain  a  morsel  of  food,  of  which  I  was  much  in  want." 

"  I  have  your  name  on  a  list  of  persons  denounced  to  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  arrest  you." 

'<  The  will  of  God  be  done  !" 

"  It  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  I  take  you  into  custody," 
said  the  man.  "  I  have  a  reason  for  sparing  you,  that  you 
may  possibly  know  one  day.  At  present,  however,  let  us 
insure  your  safety.  You  are  aware  that  matters  are  going 
hard  with  the  Republic  on  the  frontiers,  and  that  Danton  has 
proclaimed  the  countiy  in  danger.  Thousands  of  citizens 
enrol  themselves  daily  as  volunteers.  On  Thursday,  a  detach- 
ment will  leave  this  quarter,  and  with  it  I  recommend  you  to 
march  ;  but  of  course  without  enrolling  your  name.  You  may 
thus  save  your  life.  The  volunteers  are  to  rendezvous  at  the 
JIairie,  at  eleven  o'clock.     Be  punctual.     I  shall  be  there. 


230  THE    IRISH 

Now  go  home,  and  do  not  come  abroad  until  then.  Adieu; 
no  thanks  J  good-night.  Oh,  I  had  forgot; — as  your  name 
will  not  appear  at  the  Mairie,  you  cannot  be  armed  at  the 
public  expense.  Can  you  provide  yourself  with  a  musket  ? 
It  need  not  be  serviceable,  but  you  must  be  armed." 

"  I  shall  procure  a  gun,"  said  MacMahon. 

"  Very  well.     Adieu  I" 

MacMahon  did  not  proceed  to  the  place  of  rendezvous  on 
the  day  which  was  to  determine  his  fate,  until  nearly  eleven 
o'clock,  in  order  as  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  mix  himself  up  in 
a  crowd.  He  did  in  fact  find  a  very  considerable  number  of 
volunteers  already  assembled,  and  breathed  more  freely  at  the 
prospect  of  escaping  the  eyes  of  dangerous  inquisitors.  What 
was  his  horror,  however,  at  hearing  that  the  volunteers  were 
to  be  drawn  up  in  single  files  at  each  side  of  the  Porte  Coch^re 
and  passage  leading  to  the  Mairie,  and  to  find  that  he  was 
appointed,  because  of  his  low  stature,  to  the  last  place  of  the 
left  hand  file  coming  from  the  Mairie,  and  would  consequently 
be  the  first  in  view  of  the  authorities,  civil  and  military,  who 
were  to  arrive  to  witness  and  applaud  the  departure  of  the 
section  of  the  Cordeliers  to  combat  the  enemies  of  the  Re- 
public. 

The  first  of  the  expected  ofiicers  who  arrived  was  his  friend. 
On  perceiving  MacMahon,  he  started  back  :  "  You  are  lost !" 
said  he,  on  beholding  the  exposed  situation  of  his  trembling 
protege.  "  The  names  of  the  volunteers  enrolled  will  be  read 
out,  in  order  that  they  may  receive  a  fraternal  cheer  from 
their  fellow-citizens.  With  that  you  have  nothing  to  do ; 
afterwards  will  be  read  a  list  of  suspected  persons,  who,  it  is 
thought  possible,  may,  as  you  propose,  seek  to  escape  the 
punishment  of  their  incivisme.  Your  name  is  on  that  list.  I 
need  hardly  caution  you  against  answering  when  it  is  called. 
We  must  see,  in  the  meanwhile,  if  it  be  possible  to  put  you 
less  obviously  in  view." 

He  then  exclaimed,  in  a  loud  voice,  as  if  directed  to  Mac- 
Mahon :  "  No,  citizen  !  you  cannot  expect  a  place  so  distin- 
guished as  that  you  occupy.  It  is  all  very  well  to  parade  your 
patriotism,  but  you  are  under  size.  Men  of  better  appearance 
must  first  meet  the  eye  of  the  representatives.  Here  !  Let 
a  dozen  citizens  of  those  at  the  head  of  the  column  pass  hither ; 
and  let  those  diminutive,  but  of  course  equally  excellent 
citizens,  take  ground  to  the  centre."    (This  was  in  the  darkest 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  231 

part  of  the  Porte  Cocli^re).  "  That  will  do  !  One  word  more, 
citizen,"  said  he,  in  an  under-tono  to  h\s proteij6 : — "Present 
arms  to  the  representatives  as  they  pass,  and  contrive  to  con- 
ceal your  face  with  your  musket.  Everything  depends  upon 
it.  When  the  order  to  march  is  given,  step  into  the  centre 
of  the  column,  and  be  sure  to  imitate  your  comrades  in  ci-ying, 
'  Vive  la  Republique  !'  Good-by  !  I  can  do  no  more.  We 
may  meet  again." 

Having  said  this  with  a  haughty  air,  he  strode  up  to  the 
Mairie. 

The  change  of  the  position  which  MacMahon  originally 
held  in  the  column,  so  kindly  recommended  by  his  friend, 
preserved  him.  The  representatives  and  other  authorities 
arrived  at  the  Mairie  precisely  as  the  clock  struck  the  hour  of 
noon ;  for  the  fashion  of  the  day  in  such  matters  was  punctu- 
ality— a  virtue  assumed  by  all  the  consular,  imperial,  and 
royal  rulers  of  France  who  have  succeeded  to  the  Republic, 
One  and  Indivisible.  Scarcely  perceiving  the  double  file  of 
volunteers,  the  Coramissaire  de  la  Convention,  with  head  erect, 
proceeded  to  the  IMairie,  on  the  step  of  which  stood  the  Mayor 
himself,  anxious  (for  he  was  in  heart  and  soul  an  aristocrat) 
to  recommend  himself  by  well-assumed  zeal  and  thorough  ob- 
sequiousness to  those  whose  nod  would  have  been  as  sure  a 
sentence  of  immediate  execution  as  if  uttered  by  Robespierre 
himself. 

After  an  interchange  of  salutations,  the  representative  ha- 
rangued the  citizens  assembled  in  the  court  of  the  Mairie  on 
the  sacrifices  (life  being  the  least  of  these)  which  all  citizens 
were  bound  to  make  for  the  country.  He  then,  followed  by 
his  staff  and  attendants,  passed  down  the  right  hand  line  of 
volunteers.  Having  arived  at  the  extremity,  he  turned  to  the 
left.  He  stopped  before  the  second  man  of  the  file  :  "Do  my 
eyes  deceive  me?"  he  cried.  "Are  you  not  the  son  of  the 
ex-noble  D ?" 

"Yes  !"  stammered  the  young  man  thus  addressed. 

"  And  you  dare  to  associate  yourself  with  real  patriots  ! 
You,  whose  family  has  figured  at  all  the  fetes  of  St.  Germains, 
Versailles,  the  Trianons,  and  whose  unworthy  parent  was  one 
of  the  suite  of  the  Austrian  in  her  visit  to  the  Gardes  Suisses, 
on  the  4th  of  October  ?" 

"The  principles  and  the  position  of  my  ancestors,  I  do  not 
deny,  citizen  representative ;  but  the  country  being  proclaimed 


232  THE    IRISH 

in  danger,  I  hoped  it  would  be  permitted  to  tte  grandson  of 
one  of  the  conquerors  at  Fontenoy,  to  aid  in  the  expulsion  of 
the  enemies  of  France  from  the  territory  of  the  Republic." 

A  murmur  of  approbation  commenced  in  the  circle  which 
suiTounded  the  representative,  but  a  stern  regard  from  the  ty- 
rant repressed  it  instantly. 

"  To  the  Abbaye  with  the  aristocrat  !"*  he  almost  roared, 
and  rapidly  ascended  the  line,  too  much  taken  up  with  his 
passion  to  observe  attentively  the  many  trembling  auditors  of 
the  sentence  he  had  pronounced,  for  such  in  fact  it  was. 

The  names  of  the  volunteers  were  then  read  loudly  by  an 
officer.  Each  answering  by  the  word  '^ present,"  and  receiving 
a  cheer  of  approbation  from  the  assembly.  This  being  over 
another  test  was  pi-oduced  from  the  pocket  of  the  greffier  of 
the  Kevolutionary  Tribunal,  which  that  functionary  also  read 
aloud.  To  the  first  name  uttered  there  was  no  reply.  To  the 
second,  a  youth  of  seventeen,  of  a  most  interesting  appearance, 
responded.  "Advance,"  said  the  greffier.  The  young  man 
went  forward,  and  made  a  profound  obeisance  to  the  represen- 
tative, who  eyed  him  with  the  aspect  of  a  fiend.  "  Stand 
aside,"  said  the  greffier,  and  resumed  reading  from  his  list. 
As  it  was  alphabetically  arranged,  eight  other  unhappy  persons 
acknowledged  themselves  present,  and  were  similarly  with  the 
first  placed  aside  before  "Patrick  MacMahon"  was  pronounced. 
No  reply.  "Does  any  citizen  recognise  MacMahon  among 
those  present?"  asked  the  greffier.  A  silence  so  complete 
ensued,  that  MacMahon  feared  the  beating  of  his  heart  would 
be  heard.  No  answer  having  been  given,  the  greffier  pro- 
ceeded, and  three  other  unfortunates  were  added  to  the  nine 
already  marked.  The  word  "march  !"  was  almost  immediately 
afterwards  given,  and  the  column  of  volunteers  of  the  "section 
of  the  Cordeliers"  was  put  into  motion  for  the  frontier,  which 
MacMahon  safely  reached. 

He  seized  throughout  that  campaign  as  a  voltigeur,  but  his 
quality  of  student  of  medicine  becoming  known,  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  medical  staff,  in  which  he  distinguished  himself 
by  humanity,  assiduity,  and  skill,  and  after  two  more  years  of 
service  was  allowed  to  return  to  Paris. 

The  twelve  unhappy  persons  taken   into  custody  at  the 

*  At  the  massacre  of  the  prisoners  confined  in  the  Abbaye,  a  different 
result  was  experienced  by  a  young  man  who  had  in  a  similar  way  confessed 
that  he  was  an  aristocrat.  ' 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  233 

IMairie,  as  above  narrated,  were  sent  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  early  next  forenoon,  and  at  four  o'clock  that  evening 
were  guillotined  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  MacMahon 
never  discovered  the  name  of  his  protector. 

Dr.  Patrick  MacMahon  died  in  Paris  in  the  year  1835,  and 
was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Mont  Parnasse.  The  grave 
never  closed  upon  a  warmer  friend,  a  more  generous  and  feeling 
medical  practitioner,  or  a  truer  Irishman. 


CHAPTER  LTI. 

There  is  a  history  in  all  men's  lives, 

Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceased. 

The  which  observed,  a  man  may  prophesy 

With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 

As  yet  not  come  to  life. 

The  time  will  come,  that  foul  sin,  gathering  head, 

Shall  break  into  corruption. 

Henry  IV.  (2d  Part). 

"TTTE  have  referred  elsewhei'e  to  the  supreme  cgo'isme  of 
VV     Louis  XV.  in  anticipating  that  the  day  of  retribution 
for  immorality  and  misgovernment  would   not  arrive   in  his 
time,  while,  in  the  utterance  of  those  heartless  words — 

"Apres  nous  le  deluge" — 

he  clearly  predicted  the  advent  of  the  avenger. 

While  treating  of  the  horrors  of  the  Revolution  of  1789,  I 
may  be  allowed  to  introduce  here  an  incident  in  which  an 
Irishman  took  a  leading  part,  and  which  may  be  regarded  as 
characteristic  of  the  period  when,  unmindful  of  portentous  ap- 
pearances, the  Court  in  general  persisted,  by  its  frivolity  and 
more  serious  offences  against  public  feeling,  to  attract  to  it 
contempt  and  indignation. 

The  latter  years  of  the  life  of  King  Charles  X.  of  France 
were,  as  respected  morality  and  religion,  exemplary;  but  that 
his  youth  was  irregular  and  dissipated,  and  contributed  to 
hasten  the  Revolution,  is  universally  believed  in  his  own 
country. 

About  the  year  1786  or  1787,  when  the  awful  change^ 


234  THE    IRISH 

already  become  inevitable,  was  approacbiug  witb  rapid  strides, 
fatuity  would  appear  to  have  seized  upon  the  Court.  The  little 
farces  performed  at  the  Trianon,  which  was  fitted  up  as  a  Swiss 
village,  in  which  the  King  was  "the  farmer;"  the  Queen, 
''the  helle  laitiere ;"  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  "the  curd," 
&c.,  provoked  bitter  reflections  on  the  part  of  the  enemies  of 
the  royal  family,  who,  admitting  that  those  little  travesties 
were  innocent,  regarded  them  as  they  merited,  as  follies  un- 
worthy the  actors,  and  unsuited  to  the  epoch. 

At  that  period  the  Count  de  Provence,  afterwards  Louis 
XVIII.,  was  popular,  being  notoriously  liberal,  or  indifferent, 
in  matters  of  religion,  and  disposed  to  recommend  moderate 
reforms  of  every  description.  His  brother,  the  Count  d'Ar- 
tois,  afterwards  Chai'les  X.,  was,  on  the  contrary,  looked  upon 
with  disfavour ;  not  so  much  because  of  his  alleged  gallantries 
and  immoralities,  as  that  he  was  a  bigot  in  religion,  and  the 
enemy  of  every  measure  tending  towai'ds  reform.  As  it  is 
well  known  that,  in  after  years,  the  Count  d'Artois  expiated 
the  sins  of  his  youth,  and  became  exceedingly  religious,  it  will 
do  no  injury  to  his  memoiy  to  narrate  one  of  the  incidents  of 
his  life,  which  increased  considerably  his  unpopularity,  and  by 
reflection  injured  his  entire  family  in  the  public  estimation. 

There  resided  in  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  Paris,  at  that 
time  a  retired  officer  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  a  Captain  Morris. 
He  had  lost  his  left  arm  in  action,  and  had  been  admitted, 
through  favour  of  friends  at  Court,  into  the  Hotel  des  Inva- 
lides, although  j^et  in  the  flower  of  his  age. 

He  was  returning  to  his  quarters  one  night  along  the  Boule- 
vard des  Invalides,  when,  near  the  Avenue  Villars,  he  heard 
the  ci-y  of  a  female  in  distress.  He  ran  towards  the  spot  from 
whence  the  voice  came,  and  saw  a  young  woman  struggling 
with  a  man,  while  another  man  came  forward,  and  drawing  his 
sword,  ordered  Morris  to  keep  off.  The  sword  of  the  latter 
was  unsheathed  in  a  moment.  In  another  instant  Morris  had 
disarmed  his  antagonist,  whose  sword  he  flung  to  a  distance. 
He  then  advanced  upon  the  man  against  whom  the  woman 
continued  to  defend  herself  The  aggressor,  on  the  approach 
of  Morris,  desisted  and  drew  his  sword. 

"  Withdraw,"  he  said. 

"  Not  I,  by ,"  said  Morris,  pressing  forward. 

Their  blades  met. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  235 

''  Hold  !"  said  the  man,  who  found  in  Morris  a  dangerous 
adversary.      "I  am  the  Count  d'Artois." 

Morris's  point  fell.  He  muttered  an  apology,  which  the 
Count  appeared  to  hear  with  haughtiness.  The  disarmed  man 
now  joined  them.  ''  Take  his  sword,"  said  the  Count  to  him, 
'-'and  march  him  to  the  corps  dc garde."  Morris  surrendered 
his  sword,  and  led  the  way  in  the  direction  of  the  guard-house. 
The  woman  had  taken  advantage  of  the  conflict,  and  eff"ected 
her  escape. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  corps  de  garde,  Morris  was  con- 
signed to  the  violon,  under  the  special  care  of  a  sentinel.  The 
Count  and  his  aide-de-camp  withdrew. 

When  day  broke,  Morris  regarded  the  armed  guardian 
placed  over  him,  and  found  that  he  was  an  old  soldier.  They 
conversed  on  military  affairs,  and  upon  certain  events  of  which 
they  had  been  respectively  eye-witnesses.  As  the  hour  of  six 
o'clock  approached,  Morris  addressed  the  soldier : — 

"  Comrade,  in  ten  minutes  you  will  be  relieved.  Will  you 
do  me  a  service  V 

"  Willingly,  if  consistent — " 

''  I  would  not  ask  it  otherwise.  In  an  hour  from  this  time 
T  shall  be  an  inmate  of  the  Bastille.  Will  you  do  me  the 
favour  to  go  to  the  Tuileries  the  moment  after  you  shall  be 
relieved,  see  the  Abbe  O'Neill,  and  tell  him  where  he  may 
find  his  friend,  Captain  Morris,  and  under  what  circumstances." 

The  soldier  promised  compliance,  and  kept  his  word.  x\t 
seven  o'clock  he  was  admitted  to  the  Abbe  O'Neill,  then  one 
of  the  Chaplains  of  the  palace.  The  Abb4  repaired  instantly 
to  the  apartment  of  the  King,  whom  he  shocked  by  the  reci- 
tal of  his  brother's  misconduct.  Louis  XVI.  gave  an  instant 
order  for  the  release  of  Morris,  who  had,  as  he  himself  had 
anticipated,  been  transferred  to  the  Bastille.  At  nine  o'clock 
he  was  liberated. 

If  it  be  true,  and  there  appears  every  reason  for  believing 
it,  that  the  corruption  and  demoralization  which  marked  the 
last  years  of  Louis  Philippe's  reign  in  France  contributed 
much  towards  bringing  about  the  Revolution  of  February, 
1848,  it  is  no  less  certain  that  the  dissolute  manners  of  the 
Court  of  Louis  XVI.,  of  which,  however,  he  was  himself 
guiltless,  contributed  to  that  of  1789.  Charles  X.  died  a 
sincere  penitent ;  but  it  is  unquestionable  that  French  history 
charges  him  with  precipitating,  by  his  conduct,  the  Revolu- 


236  THE    IRISH 

tion  foreseen  and  predicted  by  his  grandfather,  who  had  him- 
self laboured  so  shamefully  to  prepare  the  way  for  it. 

Having  succeeded  early  in  the  Revolution  in  escaping  from 
France;  the  Count  d'Artois  had  the  unhappiness  to  learn  in 
exile  the  imprisonment  and  execution  of  Louis  XVI.,  his  con- 
sort, and  his  sainted  sister,  with  the  other  enormities  practised 
on  his  nephew  and  niece  at  the  same  period ;  and  he  assisted, 
seven-and-twenty  years  later,  at  his  son's  death-bed,  with  pro- 
bably the  bitter  reflection  that  his  own  unpopularity  had  con- 
tributed, with  that  so  industriously  earned  by  the  Due  de 
Berri  himself,  to  steel  the  dagger  of  the  assassin  Louvel. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

Patxem  sequitur  sua  proles. 

THE  period  which  elapsed  between  1792,  at  which  date  it 
was  closed,  and  1800,  may  be  deemed  an  interregnum  as 
regards  the  Irish  College  in  Paris. 

When  it  was  taken  possession  of  in  the  name  of  the  Re- 
public, and  the  students  expelled,  there  existed  at  St.  Germain- 
en-Laye,  near  Paris,  an  academy,  for  the  education  of  young 
men,  at  the  head  of  which  figured  the  estimable  Abbe  Mac- 
Dermott.  At  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  town,  there 
was  a  similar  academy  for  young  ladies,  presided  over  by  the 
distinguished  Madame  Campan.  Later,  under  the  Directory, 
both  were  broken  up,  and  the  personnel  of  each  removed  to 
Paris.  The  Abb6  MacDermott  was  allowed  to  re-enter  into 
possession  of  the  Irish  College,  and  to  carry  on  in  it  his  aca- 
demy, in  which  were  to  be  found  sons  of  the  most  distinguished 
and  wealthy  families  of  the  day ;  and  Madame  Campan  similarly 
established  herself.  The  former  numbered  among  its  pupils, 
for  example,  Eugene  Beauharnais ;  Jerome  Bonaparte ;  Cham- 
pagny  (created  later  Due  de  Cadore) ;  one  of  the  Perigaux 
(whose  sisters  married  afterwards  Laffitte  and  Marshal  Mar- 
mont),  &c.  Madame  Campan  was  placed  subsequently  by  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  at  the  head  of  the  establishment  at  St. 
Denis  for  the  education  of  the  daughters  of  the  members  of 
the  Legion  of  Honour. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  237 

"  I  entered  the  institution  of  the  Abb6  MacDermott"  (the 
Irish  College)  ''in  the  year  1794,"  said  a  friend  to  me  the 
other  day ;  "  but  am  not  able  to  present  you  with  a  favourable 
picture  of  our  studies.  The  practice  of  religion  had  not  yet 
been  tolerated.  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  were  more  read  by 
myself  and  my  fellow-students,  than  sacred  history.  Of  this 
fact  Abb6  MacDermott  was  aware.  It  grieved  him,  but  he 
could  not  help  it  nor  control  us.  AH  that  he  could  do  was  to 
impose  the  outward  observance  of  morality  and  propriety  of 
conduct. 

"  If,  however,  we  were  not  devout  or  spiritual  in  our  stu- 
dies, we  distinguished  ourselves  as  gentlemen.  The  college 
was  the  centre  of  elegance  and  gayety.  Twice  a  week  we  gave 
balls,  at  which  we  were  honoured  with  the  presence  of  the 
highest  and  the  most  beautiful  women  of  the  day.  Our  fes- 
tivities wei'e  graced  by  Josephine,  the  good,  the  amiable,  the 
excellent,  the  kindhearted ;  by  Madame  Recamier ;  by  the 
still  more  lovely  Madame  Tallien,  afterwards  Princess  of  Chi- 
may,  and  other  celebrities ;  as  well  as  by  the  pupils  of  Madame 
Lemoine,  whose  establishment  for  the  education  of  young 
ladies  was  the  most  distinguished  in  Paris.  Vestris,  '  the 
Vestris,'  was  the  director  of  our  balls.  It  was  a  jolly  time 
that  could  not  last  for  ever." 

The  return  of  Napoleon  to  France,  and  the  Revolution  of 
the  18th  Brumaire,  interrupted  the  festivities  at  the  Irish 
College.  The  Consulate  assumed  a  character  of  respectability 
and  gravity,  to  which  the  Directory  had  no  pretensions. 
Amid  the  important  occupations  of  Napoleon  in  1800,  he  felt 
anxiety  to  know  something  of  the  progress  of  Jerome,  then 
in  his  16th  year,  and  sent  for  him.  Jerome  presented  him- 
self at  the  Tuileries,  and  opened  the  interview  by  asking  for 
employment.     "  "What  are  you  fit  for  ?"  asked  Napoleon. 

"  Everything." 

"  A  la  bonne  heure.     Nous  verrons." 

In  five  minutes  afterwards  Jerome  was  seen  flying  from 
the  cabinet  of  the  First  Consul,  the  latter  in  pursuit  of  him 
in  a  towering  passion.  Jerome  ran  to  his  mother's  (Madame 
Letitia),  where  he  lay  concealed  for  a  month.  Napoleon 
instantly  ordered  the  Abb6  MacDermott  to  be  summoned 
before  him. 

"How  comes  it,  sir?"  asked  the  irritated  chief  of  the 
State,  of  the   meek  priest ;  "  How  comes  it,  sir,  that  I  find 


238  THE  irasn 

my  brother  so  utterly  ignorant  ?  Why,  he  cannot  tell  the 
names  of  the  kings  of  France  I" 

''  It  is,  unfortunately,  but  too  true,"  replied  the  Abb4 ; 
"  but  I  cannot  help  it.  Discipline  has  long  ceased  to  exist  at 
the  Irish  College.  When  I  beg  him.  Monsieur  Jei'ome,  to 
read  history,  that  of  France  in  particular,  he  spurns  it.  '  The 
History  of  France  !'  he  exclaims.  '  What  is  it  but  the  his- 
tory of  a  heap  of  priests  and  tyrants  I'  " 

''  Very  well/'  said  Napoleon,  now  a  little  cooled.  "  I'll 
take  him  in  hand." 

Accordingly,  the  First  Consul  adopted  the  course  often  pur- 
sued elsewhere  in  similar  circumstances  with  wild  gamins : 
he  sent  the  young  etoiirdie  to  sea. 

Jerome  embarked  in  1801,  as  second  lieutenant  of  the 
ship  in  which  his  uncle  (by  marriage)  General  Leclerc  sailed 
for  St.  Domingo,  with  a  splendid  army,  to  bring  that  former 
possession  of  France  once  more  under  the  French  yoke.  The 
utter  failure  of  that  expedition,  the  death  of  Leclerc,  and  the 
annihilation  nearly  of  the  army  under  his  command,  and  the 
subsequent  marriage  of  Jerome  in  the  United  States,  are  mat- 
ters of  history. 

Jerome  returned  to  France,  and  became  successively,  lieu- 
tenant, commander,  post-captain,  and  rear-admiral.  In  1807, 
however,  he  passed  from  the  navy  to  the  army,  and  with  a 
corps  of  Bavarians  and  Wurtemburghers,  drove  the  Prussian 
troops  out  of  Silesia.  On  the  18th  of  August,  of  that  year, 
he  was  created  King  of  Westphalia,  where  it  appears  he  con- 
ciliated the  affections  of  his  subjects,  a  task  facilitated  by  his 
excellent  heart. 

Much  occupied  in  this  undertaking,  Jerome  did  not  forget 
his  old  tutor,  the  Abb6  MacDermott,  whose  declining  life  he 
rendered  easy  by  a  pension  of  eight  or  ten  thousand  francs. 

All  the  world  knows  that  Prince  Jerome  displayed  unques- 
tionable personal  courage  in  the  course  of  his  military  service, 
and,  on  one  celebrated  occasion  in  pai-ticular,  distinguished 
talent.  He  commanded  the  second  corps  of  the  French  army 
at  Waterloo,  and  headed  the  attacks  upon  Hougoumont  and 
the  British  right  wing.     That  he  failed  was  not  his  fault. 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  239 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

Quand  les  Irlandai?  sont  bons  iln'existo  pas  d'hommesmeilleurs;  etquand 
ils  sont  mauvais  en  n'en  saurait  trouver  de  pires. 

French  Proverb, 

IN  the  first  part  of  the  foregoing  opinion  passed  upon  us  by 
the  French,  no  Irishman  will  refuse  concurrence.  Does 
the  second  portion  of  it  equally  and  justly  apply  to  us  ?  I 
doubt  it — at  least — I  could  cite  crimes  and  vices  of  other 
nations  of  which  the  Irish  are  guiltless.  Still,  occasionally,  a 
black  sheep  appears  among  and  disfigures  the  flock ;  but  so 
seldom  that  the  exception  proves  not  the  rule. 

The  friend  who  introduced  me  at  the  Irish  College  was,  I 
soon  perceived,  a  favourite  with  the  superior,  the  iconome, 
the  professors,  and  especially  with  the  students,  because  of  a 
service  which  turned  out  to  be  fraught  with  danger,  which  he 
had  rendered  to  a  late  president  of  the  college,  the  Abbe 
Ferris.  This  service  will  shock  all  who  entertain  respect  for 
the  clerical  character.  It  consisted  in  delivering  from  that 
ecclesiastic  to  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  Hely  d'Oissel 
(himself  the  son  of  an  Irishman),  a  challenge  to  meet  him  in 
mortal  combat  with  swords,  in  consequence  of  some  expres- 
sions deemed  offensive  by  the  Abbe  Ferris,  which  the  minister 
had  employed  in  some  speech  or  official  document. 

Accustomed  as  we  are  to  the  pacific  character  of  the 
Catholic  clergy  in  these  times,  when  no  Prince-Bishop  claims 
to  be  a  warlike  leader,  this  will  appear  startling.  We  saw  in 
Ireland,  some  seventy  years  ago,  a  noble  bishop  of  the  Esta- 
blished Church  (the  Earl  of  Bristol,  Bishop  of  Derry),  iden- 
tifying himself  with  the  Volunteers ;  and  some  ten  or  twenty 
years  later,  another  prelate,  Doctor  Fowler,  who  for  some  rea- 
son or  other  was  distinguished  as  "  The  Boxing  Bishop ;"  we 
have  also  seen  reverend  captains  of  yeomanry  cavalry  shrouding 
their  uniforms  with  their  surplice,  when,  having  dismounted, 
they  would  ascend  the  pulpit ;  but  a  fire-eating  abb<5  is  some- 


240  THE    IRISH 

thing  new  and  racy ;  and  a  very  remarkable  person  was  this 
abb6  in  every  way.'*' 

The  Abb6  Ferris  resided  iu  Paris  at  the  commencement 
of  the  Revolution,  and  emigrated  with  the  Princes.  Subse- 
quently he  distinguished  himself  in  the  campaigns  of  1792, 
1793,  and  1794,  in  the  army  of  Conde,  not  as  almoner  of  a 
regiment,  but  as  an  intrepid  captain  of  grenadiers.  Thanks  to 
the  clemency  of  Napoleon,  he  was  allowed  some  years  later  to 
return  to  France,  and  continued  to  reside  in  Paris.  Here  he 
renewed  his  acquaintance  with  a  man  named  Somers,  a  native 
of  the  county  of  Wexford,  Ireland,  who,  like  Ferris,  had  been 
a  Catholic  priest  at  the  period  of  the  Revolution,  but  who  fol- 
lowed a  line  of  conduct  different  from  that  of  Ferris.  He  re- 
nounced his  religious  habit,  professed  himself  a  sans-culotte, 
and  married  the  widow  of  a  shoemaker;  and  carried  on,  it 
would  seem,  from  his  appearance  and  expenses,  a  profitable 
business.  It  will  naturally  be  conceived  that  no  sympathy 
could  subsist  between  him  and  Ferris ;  still  they  continued  on 
amicable  if  not  intimate  terms. 

One  day  in  the  year  1812  or  1813,  a  large  party  of  Irish, 
some  half-dozen  or  so,  agreed  to  dine  together  at  a  traiteur's, 
for  restaurate^irs  were  not  yet  known  at  that  period,  to  fgte  a 
friend  who  was  to  proceed  to  the  United  States.  Among 
them  were  Ferris,  Captain  Murphy,  a  very  popular  dashing 
oflBcer,  and  an  enthusiastic  Bonapartist ;  the  late  excellent  and 
amiable  Michael  O'Maley,  and  others.  The  entire  party  had 
nearly  assembled,  but  he,  in  whose  honour  the  dinner  was 
given,  had  not  yet  arrived.  This  was  an  Irishman,  a  captain 
of  an  American  vessel,  which  was  to  sail  from  Havre  for  New 
York  the  next  day  but  one,  and  was  to  call  at  some  or  other 
of  the  English  Channel  ports.  While  they  were  chatting, 
waiting  for  the  hero  of  the  entertainment,  Somers,  who  was 
not  popular  with  his  countrymen,  suddenly  entered  the  room. 

"  Has  Captain arrived  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  some  of  those  he  addressed. 

"  He  is  to  sail  on  Thursday,"  said  he,  "  and  promised  to 
post  a  letter  for  me  at  whatever  English  port  he  should  touch. 
Here  it  is,"  continued  Somers,  placing  a  letter  on  the  table. 

*  Father  Gannon,  already  named,  was  remarkable  in  Paris  for  his  pug- 
nacity and  skill  in  casual  rencounters,  but  only  with  the  arms  given  him 
by  nature. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  241 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  give  it  him.  Good-by,"  and  he  with- 
drew. 

Murphy  started  up.      "  He  shall  carry  no  letter  for  you, 

you spy,"  said  he,  and  seizing  the  .letter,  threw  it  behind 

the  fire,  on  which  were  blazing  three  oaken  logs.  Another  of 
the  party  rushed  to  the  chimney,  seized  the  letter,  which  had 
not  yet  been  even  scorched,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  The 
expected  guest  entered  at  that  moment.  Dinner  was  imme- 
diately served,  and  this  incident  forgotten;  the  rest  of  the 
day  was  spent  in  joviality.  The  party  separated  at  eleven 
o'clock.  At  the  same  hour  the  following  forenoon,  Somers 
was  shot  in  the  Plain  of  Grenelle,  by  sentence  of  a  court- 
martial,  sitting  at  that  period  en  j^crmanence  in  Paris. 

He  had  been  denounced  at  midnight  as  a  spy,  and  in  cor- 
respondence with  the  enemy.*  The  proof  of  his  treason  was 
incontestable.  It  was  contained  in  the  letter  which  I  have 
just  stated  had  been  snatched  from  the  fire  by  one  of  his 
countrymen,  and  which  being  produced  to  him  when  brought 
to  trial  before  the  military  commission,  he  admitted  to  be  in 
his  own  hand-writing.  It  was  addressed  to  ''  Mr.  Smith,  No. 
1,  Downing  Street,  Westminster,  London."  It  contained  only 
these  words : — 

"■  You  will  read  in  the  journals  of  to-morrow,  that  a  review 
of  fifty  thousand  troops  was  held  in  the  Carrousel,  in  front  of 
the  Tuileries,  this  forenoon.  It  is  false.  There  were  scarcely 
ten  thousand." 

The  Emperor  was  at  that  moment  in  Kussia.  The  exag- 
geration of  the  number  of  troops  reviewed,  which  Somers  pre- 
dicted would  appear  in  the  "  Moniteur,"  and  other  journals, 
had  for  its  object  to  demonstrate  that  a  large  disposal3le  mili- 
tary force  still  remained  in  Paris.  The  contradiction  of  that 
statement  by  anticipation  was  interpreted,  and  fairly  so,  by  the 
court-martial,  as  conveying  information  to  the  enemy. 

The  Mr.  Smith,  to  whom  the  letter  of  Somers  was  ad- 

*  I  wish  I  could  haro  suppressed  this  un-Irish  act  of  treachery,  even 
though  its  victim  were  infamous  himself.  I  know  who  the  informer  was,  but 
from  tenderness  towards  his  truly  respectable  relatives,  I  withhold  his  name. 
In  the  motto  to  this  chapter  will  be  found  a  Frenchman's  idea  of  the  Irish 
character.  If  recrimination  were  an  argument,  I  could  here  observe  that 
— be  it  praiseworthy  or  the  contrary — the  fidelity  of  the  Irish  conspirator, 
or  even  felon,  to  his  associates,  is  proverbial — while  in  France  it  is  so  rare 
that  the  police  reckon  securely  upon  proofs  by  confederates  against  any 
ofifender  who  may  fall  into  their  hands. 
11 


242  THE    IRISH 

dressed,  was  the  brother-in-law  and  private  secretary  of  Lord 
Castlereagh,  then  Secretai-y  of  Foreign  Affairs  of  His  Majesty 
George  III. 

From  the  exclamation  of  Captain  Murphy,  before  throwing 
Somers's  letter  behind  the  fire,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  cha- 
racter of  the  latter  was  suspected.  Murphy,  and  the  chief 
portion  of  the  Irish  in  France  at  that  day,  bore  allegiance  and 
attachment  to  Napoleon,  and  despised  and  detested  both  the 
treason  and  the  traitor  in  the  person  of  Somers.  After  his 
death,  his  wife  (through  an  allowance  of  the  British  Grovern- 
ment,  it  was  believed,  and  which  must  have  been  liberal)  was 
able  to  give  a  very  considerable  dower  with  her  daughter  on 
her  marriage.  I  have  heard  so  large  a  sum  as  £12,000 
sterling. 

On  the  Restoration,  the  Abbe  Ferris  was  provided  for  by 
the  place.  President  of  the  Irish  College.  A  battalion  of  the 
Garde  Royale  would  have  been  more  to  his  taste,  but  to  pre- 
serve discipline  in  the  Irish  College  gave  him  some  occupation, 
and  thus  the  years  wore  on.  Early  in  the  month  of  March, 
1815,  the  arrival  of  Napoleon  at  Cannes,  from  Elba,  became 
known  in  Paris.  That  which  alarmed  all  other  royalists,  how- 
ever, had  no  terrors  for  this  worthy  son  of  Ireland,  and  of  the 
church  militant.  He  heard  of  the  return  of  Napoleon  to 
France,  with  as  much  indifference  as  he  would  have  received 
during  a  campaign  an  order  to  storm  a  battery ;  but  the  30th 
of  that  month  came,  bringing  with  it  Napoleon  himself. 

The  approach  of  the  Emperor  was  announced  to  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Irish  Colle2:e  in  more  than  one  form.  The  most 
significant  was  the  ascent  of  two  of  the  students  (A.  B.  and 
John  O'M.)  to  the  roof  of  the  college,  and  their  removal  of 
the  white  flag,  which  during  a  year  had  floated  peacefully  over 
its  walls,  and  their  substitution  of  the  tricolor  for  it.  On 
learning  these  facts,  the  president  looked  queer  and  decamped. 

After  the  Hundred  Days,  however,  he  returned  to  Paris, 
and  found  that  the  Bev.  Paul  Long  had  been  appointed  Presi- 
dent of  the  Irish  College  in  his  absence. 

"You  must  withdraw,"  said  the  absolute  Ferris,  in  the 
tone  of  the  late  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  (Lord  Can- 
terbury), to  the  then  incumbent. 

"  I  won't,"  said  the  meek  Paul  Long.  ''  I  have  no  orders 
to  receive  from  you." 

"  Then  I  will  put  a  padlock  on  the  door,  and  keep  you  and 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  243 

your  staff  prisoners ;  or  if  you  and  they  leave  for  a  mftment, 
you  shall  not  re-enter." 

Ultimately  the  Abb4  Ferris  became  once  more  President 
of  the  Irish  College.  How  he  conducted  the  establishment 
up  to  a  certain  period  does  not  appear ;  but  at  length  he  con- 
trived to  involve  himself  in  some  difficulties  with  the  Minister 
for  Public  Instruction  (Hely  d'Oissel),  and  who,  in  an  order 
issued  in  his  official  capacity  to  the  Irish  College,  had  wounded 
the  amour  propre  of  the  captain  of  grenadiers,  as  I  have  just 
stated,  whereupon,  in  the  French  fashion,  the  Abbe  provided 
himself  with  two  seconds  (both  Irishmen),  and  caused  them 
to  deliver  to  the  Minister  a  cartel  with  this  inscription  :  "  My 
arm  is  the  sword." 

The  reply  was  instantaneous.  He  directed  the  Abbe  Ferris 
to  remove  sixty  leagvies  from  Paris,  and  to  remain  in  a  town 
indicated,  until  he  was  permitted  to  return  to  the  capital.  M. 
Hely  d'Oissel  added  :  "  With  respect  to  the  parties  who  pre- 
sented your  insolent  message,  I  am  in  search  of  evidence  of 
their  identity.  If  they  prove,  as  I  suspect  they  will,  other 
than  native-born  Frenchmen,  they  shall  be  forthwith  expelled 
the  French  territory." 

This  missive  troubled  the  Abbe  Ferris  considerably.  The 
persons  who  had  accepted  the  office  of  seconds  to  him,  were 
officers  who  had  served  in  the  Imperial  army  of  France,  and 
of  whose  Bonapartism  there  was  something  stronger  in  the 
books  than  mere  surmise.  Their  expulsion  as  foreigners  would 
not  be  refused  by  government,  however,  and  would  necessarily 
cause  to  them,  among  other  inconveniences,  the  loss  of  their 
half-pay ;  for,  with  a  becoming  regard  to  economy,  the  full  or 
half-pay  of  the  French  officer  is  suspended  from  the  moment 
of  his  departure  from  the  French  soil,  unless  with  the  special 
permission  of  the  government.  The  Abbe  Ferris  was  there- 
fore much  concerned  for  the  fate  that  awaited  his  witnesses. ' 

He  was  not  a  man  to  remain  inactive  under  such  circum- 
stances, however,  particularly  when  the  hours  of  his  own  so- 
journ in  Paris  were  numbered.  He  repaired,  therefore,  at 
once  to  General  Count  Daniel  O'Connell  (uncle  of  the  late 
more  celebrated  man  of  that  name),  and  stated  the  whole  case, 
imploring  his  interference  for  their  countrymen,  his  two 
seconds.  "  For  myself,"  said  he,  "  I  would  scorn  to  ask  indul- 
gence of  the  mongrel  Minister,  who  is  only  Irish  by  the 
father's  side." 


244  THE    IRISH 

"I"think  it  would  be  useless,  moreover,"  said  the  veteran 
O'Connell.  '■'■  You  must  submit.  Give  yourself  no  trouble 
about  your  seconds.  I  and  O'Mahony  will  represent  them. 
I  shall  see  the  latter  immediately  on  the  subject." 

Ferris,  overpowered  by  this  kindness,  took  his  leave,  and 
left  Paris  that  night;  and  Generals  O'Connell  and  O'Mahony 
intimated  to  M.  Hely  d'Oissel  without  delay,  that  if  he  de- 
sired to  know  further  respecting  the  persons  who  presented 
the  hostile  message  he  had  received,  they  were  ready  to  answer 
him  in  any  way  he  might  require ;  and  that  they,  Generals 
O'Connell  and  O'Mahony,  assumed  the  entire  responsibility  of 
the  act.- 

This  proceeding  saved  from  exile  two  distinguished  soldiers, 
whose  banishment  would  have  been  destructive  of  their  pros- 
pects ;  for,  being  political  refugees  before  their  entry  into  the 
French  service,  their  resources  in  their  native  land  would  have 
been  unavailable  for  them.  The  brave  and  respectable  vete- 
rans, O'Connell  and  O'Mahony,  received  their  acknowledgments 
in  the  manner  that  may  be  conceived ;  adding,  however,  that 
''  in  fact  they  ran  no  risk,  being  unassailable  by  M.  Hely 
d'Oissel ;"  but  that  '*  had  it  been  otherwise,  they  would  not 
have  hesitated  to  devote  themselves  for  fellow-countrymen,  even 
though  there  existed  between  them  no  political  sympathy." 

Here  the  matter  dropped.  The  Abbe  Ferris  returned  to 
the  Irish  College,  but  did  not  evince  so  much  generosity  as 
Generals  O'Connell  and  O'Mahony,  for  he  opposed  the  re- 
admission  to  the  college  of  the  two  students  who  had  in  the 
Second  Restoration  been  expelled,  for  hoisting  the  tricolor 
flag  on  the  college  in  March,  1815. 

Generals  Counts  O'Connell  and  O'Mahony  both  lived  to  an 
advanced  age. 

The  direction  of  the  establishment  which  Ferris  had  in 
some  sort  usurped,  has  since  been  placed  into  able  and  worth}' 
hands,  and  has  consequently  been  eminently  successful.  In 
Somers,  treason  was  fitly  punished  by  treachery. 

I  must  not  take  leave  of  the  Irish  College,  however,  with- 
out recording — 5.-propos  or  raal-a-propos — an  incident  which 
occurred  in  its  vicinity,  and  which  will  suggest  a  comparison 
between  French  and  British  toleration,  not  creditable,  certainly, 
to  the  reputation  for  civility  of  the  great  man  who  figures  in 
it,  however  much  in  keeping  with  the  male  common  sense  for 
which  he  is  renowned.     After  all,  perhaps,  a  bad  joke  upon 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  245 

religious  costume,  while  authorizing  its  assumption,  will  appear 
more  in  accordance  with  the  value  of  the  matter  in  question, 
and  with  the  progres,  than  a  formal,  grave,  pompous,  prohi- 
bitory, and  penal  Act  of  Parliament,  which  has,  moreover, 
this  regrettable  quality,  that  it  is  a  concession  to  sectarian  pre- 
judice. 

There  was,  before  the  Revolution  of  1789,  a  Convent  of 
Nuns,  situate  in  a  little  street  without  an  outlet,  which  runs 
off  the  Rue  des  Postes,  Paris,  and  which  street  bears  this  in- 
scription :  "  Impasse*  des  vigues" — a  title 

"  'Which  liberal  shepherds  call  by  a  grosser  name." 

This  convent  was,  like  all  others,  suppressed  during  the 
Revolution.  Scarcely  had  Napoleon  been  fixed  in  the  Con- 
sulate, however,  when  he  displayed  indulgence  for  the  pro- 
scribed nuns  and  clergy,  and  on  a  petition  from  the  surviving 
sisters,  reinstated  the  nuns  of  the  Impasse  des  Vignes  in  their 
convent.  Emboldened  by  this  favour,  the  Prioress  thought 
she  would  beg  a  further  one,  and  accordingly  memorialized  the 
citizen  Consul  to  allow  the  sisterhood  to  resume  the  habit  of 
their  order. 

"  Tell  them,"  said  Napoleon  to  the  person  who  had  pre- 
sented to  him  their  petition,  ''  tell  them  they  may  wear  what- 
ever masquerade  they  please,  if  they  abstain  from  mixing  in 
politics." 

Did  the  liberality  or  tolerance  of  this  reply  compensate  for 
its  i*udeness  ? 

*  Is  it  not  to  Voltaire  that  this  commendable  new  reading  is  due?     How 
happy  had  he  always  kept  decency  and  delicacy  in  view ! 


246  THE  iRisn 


CHAPTER  LV. 

Towards  the  recovery  of  the  hearts  of  the  people -[of  Ireland]  there  be 
but  three  things  in  naturd  reriim  : 
1st.  Religion. 
2d.  Justice  and  protection. 
3^1.  Obligation  and  reward. 

Bacon*. 

HOW  were  matters  proceeding  at  home  all  this  time?  Had 
the  great  principles  recommended  by  Lord  Bacon  to 
Elizabeth,  for  the  pacification  and  preservation  of  her  Irish 
kingdom,  been  carried  out  ?  They  were  suggested  in  no  friendly 
feeling  for  that  country ;  were  beyond  suspicion  of  latent  affec- 
tion or  regard  for  it,  and  should  therefore  have  found  credit 
with  those  for  whose  guidance  they  had  been  laid  down.  But 
either  they  were  unheeded  or  were  inefficacious ;  for,  indepen- 
dently of  minor  revolts  in  the  interim,  in  less  than  fifty  years 
after  they  had  been  written,  the  Great  Rebellion  of  1641  hap- 
pened. Cromwell's  consequent  campaign  was,  for  the  Irish, 
disastrously  successful.  They  were  overpowered,  reduced  to 
inaction,  and,  as  usual,  paid  in  their  persons  and  in  their  pro- 
perty amply  for  their  short-lived  insurrection.  Under  Charles 
II.  and  his  weak  and  feeble,  and  consequently  mischievous 
brother,  they,  although  not  treated  with  remarkable  favour, 
recovered  their  spirit;  and  partly,  perhaps,  from  religious 
sympathy  with  the  latter,  in  another  half-century  displayed 
for  him  in  his  misfortunes  more  loyalty,  afi"ection,  devotion, 
and  attachment  than  (notwithstanding  the  obvious  policy  that 
would  have  marked  such  demonstration)  was  ever  evinced  for 
any  of  his  predecessors  since  the  invasion  by  Henry  II.  In 
defence  of  a  fallen  monarch,  they  offered  to  the  world  the 
extraordinary  spectacle  of  a  people  who  in  their  hearts  did  not 
acknowledge  his  sovereignty  over  them,  yet  with  their  lives 
and  fortunes  asserted  it. 

Did  King  James's  successors  act  upon  Lord  Bacon's  pre- 
cepts in  the  succeeding  half-centurj'  ?  Did  the  counsel  of  that 
wise  man  influence  their  conduct  and  characterize  the  measures 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  247 

of  the  new  conquerors  of  Ireland,  for  its  pacification  and  pre- 
servation ?  Was  religion  inculcated  in  the  spirit  of  Chriyti- 
anity  ?  AVas  justice  administered  or  protection  given  ?  Were 
obligation  and  reward  conferred  only  upon  those  who  truly 
laboured  for  the  hand  fide  annexation  of  Ireland  to  England, 
and  for  the  permanent  maintenance  of  their  connexion  ?  Lord 
Bacon  said  that,  "  if  consciences  be  to  be  enforced  at  all" 
(words  which,  I  need  hardly  observe,  imply  a  doubt  in  the 
mind  of  him  who  pronounced  them),  *'  instruction  and  time 
for  its  extension  should  precede  their  enforcement."  What 
were  the  means  for  ''  enforcing  consciences,"  resorted  to  up  to 
the  period  of  which  I  speak — the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century?  What  was  the  nature  of  the  ''instruction"  afforded 
to  the  Irish  ?  Simply,  a  command  to  renounce  Popery,  and 
to  embrace  Protestantism. 

To  judge  from  the  manners  which  prevailed  in  Ireland  at 
that  time,  it  would  seem  that  intolerance  had  assumed  the 
place  of  religion ;  confiscation  and  persecution  that  of  justice 
and  protection ;  and  that  the  plunder  of  the  unhappy  recusant 
became  the  reward  and  the  remuneration  of  those  who  demon- 
strated by  word  and  deed  inveterate  hostility  to  the  conquered ; 
and  all  this  in  spite  of  Lord  Bacon's  recommendation  of  pro- 
pitiation and  conciliation.  Then,  as  in  our  own  day,  emigra- 
tion appeared  to  the  suffering  the  only  remedy  for  the  evils 
which  had  fallen  upon  them ;  and,  in  consequence,  the  prin- 
cipal portion  of  those  who  could  do  so,  removed  to  France,  or 
other  Catholic  countries  of  the  continent. 

This  exhausting  waste  continued  to  operate,  among  the 
better  classes  particularly,  during  the  fifty  years  which  followed 
the  abdication  of  King  James  11.,  and  might  have  occasioned 
fears  lest  utter  depopulation  should  follow ;  and  yet  (and  this 
is  a  remarkable  though  not  unexampled  incident  in  the  history 
of  Ireland)  the  loss  or  the  absence  of  those  emigrants  became 
a^out  the  year  1740  hardly  perceptible ;  in  the  capital  espe- 
cially, where  luxury,  revelry,  and  riot,  still  indicated  the 
existence  of  prosperity.  It  is  true,  that  those  who  enjoyed 
life  in  this  way  were  of  the  party  of  the  victors;  for  the 
vanquished  were  as  nothing  in  the  scale  of  the  country.  Those 
among  them  who  retained  property,  and  who  wished  to  preserve 
it,  and  those  who  remained  faithful  to  the  exiled  family,  and 
were  encouraged  and  maintained  in  their  resolve  to  prove  their 
continued  allegiance  to  that  family,  when  a  foreign  invasion, 


248  THE    IRISH 

(constantly  promised  them  by  France)  should  give  them  an 
opportunity,  sought  security  in  retirement  from  observation. 

A  few  compromised  or  turbulent  men,  who  disliked,  or  were 
unable  to  effect  emigration,  and  who  spurned  the  idea  of  sub- 
mission, remained  in  the  Galtees,  and  other  mountain  fastnesses, 
where  they  subsisted  upon  the  contributions  levied  by  them  on 
the  Saxon  who  fell  into  their  hands,  or  upon  the  supplies 
furnished  to  them  voluntarily  by  the  peasantry,  who  also  acted 
as  scouts  for  them,  and  afforded  them  harbour  and  shelter 
when  driven  to  demand  it,  and  by  whom  they  were,  moreover, 
regarded  rather  as  martyrs,  sufferers  for  conscience  sake,  per- 
secuted patriots,  or  political  proscripts,  than  as  brigands  and 
desperadoes. 

The  feeling  has  continued  to  be  displayed  ever  since  up  to 
the  present  day,  by  the  Irish  peasantry,  in  favour  of  all  objects 
of  the  law's  pursuit ;  for,  from  error  producing  conviction,  or 
from  ingenuity  or  perversity  in  their  appreciation,  nearly  every 
great  crime  which  stains  our  annals — murder  among  the  rest — 
is  connected  with  something  quasi-justifiable,  something  sus- 
ceptible of  political  association,  of  being  traced  to  some  rem- 
nant of  the  impressions  which  arose  out  of  the  relations  of 
conquered  and  conqueror.* 

Evei'y  case  of  murder  committed  in  Ireland,  resulting  from 
agrarian  or  other  conspiracies,  developes  in  the  peasantry  of 
the  country  in  which  it  is  perpetrated,  the  feeling  I  have  just 
condemned. 

"  Murder  most  foul,  as  at  the  best  it  is." 

Do  that  feeling  and  its  results  express  and  convey  sympathy 
with  the  assassin,  and  approbation  of  his  crime,  as  is  allleged  ? 
I  do  not  believe  it.  Nevertheless,  the  prevalence  of  the  practice 
of  declining  to  aid  in  bringing  to  justice  a  criminal  of  that 
description,  nay,  of  actual  assistance  given  him  to  facilitate 
his  escape,  are  unhappily  undeniable. 

What  is  the  remedy  for  this  evil  ?  Death  by  the  executioner? 
Crime  merits  punishment,  and  has  rarely  failed  to  receive  it 
in  Ireland.  Does  punishment  deter  from  crime  ?  The  state 
of  some  of  the  northern  Irish  counties  at  this  moment  would 
prove  the  negative.  If  punishment  fail,  what  remedy  can  be 
applied  ?     ''  Time  and  instruction,"  Lord  Bacon  would  say. 

*  Murder,  in  order  to  effect  robbery,  is,  as  I  have  shown  in  my  letter  to 
the  "Journal  des  Dfibats,"  of  very  rare  occurrence  in  Ireland. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  249 

The  first  has  hardly  yet  begun  to  operate,  but  uow  when  I  am 
told  the  second  is  about  being  added  to  it,  there  should  be 
ground  for  hoping  for  amelioration. 

In  order  to  its  plenary  success,  however,  the  system  of  edu- 
cation must  be  approved  by  the  ministers  of  the  religion  pro- 
fessed by  the  peasant.  Without  that  preliminary  recommen- 
dation of  it,  the  project  will  not  succeed.  All  legislation 
contemplates  the  successful  carrying  out  of  the  law,  and  in  this 
case  success  can  only  be  insured  by  the  approval,  the  acquies- 
cence, and  the  concurrence  of  those  to  whom  the  objects  of 
such  legislation  look  for  counsel  to  adopt  and  submit  to  it.  In 
a  word  proselytism  must  not  be,  nor  appear  to  be,  the  motive  of 
any  code  of  instruction  laid  down  for  the  people,  if  its  success 
be  desired.  In  this  sentence  will  be  found  the  failure  of  any 
measure  propounded  for  the  instruction  of  the  peasantry  of 
Ireland. 

"  But  we  will  legislate,  and  we  will  enforce  submission." 
You  have  been  playing  that  game  for  centuries,  and  with 
facilities  for  its  advancement,  now  and  for  evermore  utterly 
unavailable,  and  you  have  not  succeeded.  In  latter  times 
coercion,  devastation,  "  clearing,"  have  had  their  day,  and  may 
again  be  resorted  to ;  but  they  are  not  in  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
and  must  fail  as  they  have  always  done.  Honesty  of  purpose 
is  all  that  is  required  in  preparing  a  code  for  the  instruction 
of  the  people.  It  must,  however,  as  I  have  already  said,  be 
apparent  as  the  sun,  or  it  will  fail. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

The  "good  old  times" — (all  times  when  old  are  good) — 
Are  gone;  the  present  might  be  if  they  would  ; 
Great  things  have  been,  and  are,  and  greater  still 
Want  little  of  mere  mortals  but  their  will. 

Byron  ( The  Age  of  Bronze). 

I  HAVE  alluded  in  a  former  chapter  of  this  work  to  the 
hostile  feeling  against  the  new  dynasty,  and  in  fact  against 
British  nile,  which  prevailed  in  Ireland  till  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  which,  if  we  believe  the  newspapers, 
exists  in  certain  portions  of  it  at  the  present  moment. 
11* 


250  THE    IRISH 

Why  is  this  ?  Where  lies  the  fault  ?  Why  should  Ireland 
retrograde  one  hundred  years  ?  Why  should  the  Whiteboys 
of  the  middle  of  the  last  century  be  reproduced  under  the  name 
of  Ribbonmen,  in  this  the  middle  of  the  present  one  ?  Have 
the  suggestions  of  Lord  Bacon  been  adopted,  and  acted  upon 
in  the  way  he  contemplated  ?  How  is  it  that  successive  British 
G-overnments  of  all  shades  of  political  colour,  some  of  them 
hostile,  more  of  them  favourable  to  Ireland,  while  their  repre- 
sentatives there,  lords-lieutenant  or  secretaries  of  state,  were 
many  of  them  men  of  great  sagacity  and  talent — (among  the 
latter  class,  in  our  own  day,  have  been  Wellington,  his  brother 
Wellesley  Pole,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  Lord  Derby) — how  is  it, 
I  ask,  that  vip  to  this  hour  the  governors  and  the  governed 
have  not  been  reconciled  ?  Why  should  the  peasant  of  the 
present  day  feel  the  same  disposition  for  secret  association  and 
open  revolt,  which  influenced  his  predecessor  of  a  hundred 
years  ago  ?  Notwithstanding  the  removal  of  the  principal 
causes  of  discontent  which  existed  at  the  former  period  (the 
penal  laws  and  tithes),  he  appears  to  be  now,  as  he  was  then, 
quite  ready  to  become  a  conspirator  or  an  insurgent. 

Ribbonism  is  as  old  as  the  hills.  It  is  a  plagiary  of  White- 
boyism,  as  had  been  Defenderism  and  other  successive  imita- 
tions of  that  confederacy.  The  "  Ribbonman"  is  the  "  White- 
boy"  (the  descendant  of  the  '' Rapparee"),  the  "Defender," 
the  "Black  Hen,"  the  "Caravat,"  the  "  Shanavest,"  the 
"  RockifS,"  the  "  Son  of  Moll  Doyle,"  the  "  Carder"  of  other 
days,  less  the  atrocity  of  this  latter  sect. 

How,  and  by  what  agency,  has  Ribbonism  been  resusci- 
tated ?  Why  was  it  allowed  to  smoulder,  instead  of  being  ex- 
tinguished ?  Why  was  it  suffered  to  retain  vitality  ?  Who 
were  the  agents  of  its  regeneration  ?  or  does  pugnacity  bear  a 
charmed  life  in  Ireland,  to  be  recalled  into  existence  at  the 
will  of  any  visionary,  quack,  agitator,  juggler,  or  impostor;  or 
of  that  occult,  undying,  yet  deadly  enemy  of  the  peasant,  the 
rabid  sectarian,  the  interested  fomenter  of  discontent  and  dis- 
affection ? 

Whether  it  be  desirable  that  the  whole  of  the  inhabitant.' 
of  a  state  be  of  one  religion,  does  not  concern  the  present  ques- 
tion. That  principle  is  one  now  in  process  of  solution  by  him  who 
has  a  giant's  strength,  the  Russian  Emperor  ;  but  imitation 
of  him,  even  were  it  not  hazardous,  no  man  of  decent  principles 
on  this  side  the  Vistula  would  recommend,  because  (among 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  251 

Other  reasons)  unanimity  in  religious  opinion  is  not  necessary 
to  constitute  a  nation  of  good  subjects. 

Such  doctrine  is  as  absurd  as  commtmism.  In  one  year 
after  the  establishment  of  a  universal  religion,  you  would  have 
as  many  dissenters  from  it,  as  there  would  be  poor  men  in  a 
country  of  which  the  wealth  should  have  been  equally  divided 
among  all  its  inhabitants  twelve  months  previously. 

Originate  how  it  may,  he  who  enters  into  a  treasonable 
conspiracy,  stakes  his  liberty  if  not  his  life.  Former  plots  may 
have  been  the  spontaneous  issue  of  the  soil ;  but  this  Ribbon 
association  was  concocted  by  the  inveterate  enemies  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  peasantry  of  Ireland.  Of  that  fact,  though 
unable  to  prove  it,  I  am  convinced.  I  remember  well  the  first 
appearance  of  this  scourge.  It  had  its  birth  about  forty  years 
ago,  and  was,  if  not  the  identical  scheme  itself,  twin-brother 
of  one  conceived  for  the  purpose  of  involving  in  it  and  in  ruin, 
some  of  the  most  respectable  inhabitants  of  Limerick  (among 
them  Mr.  Arthur,  who  narrowly  escaped  the  gibbet  or  trans- 
portation, for  imputed  complicity  in  the  plot).  Moreover,  its 
injurious  effects  are  not  local.  The  reputation  of  the  whole 
community  is  compromised  by  it.  If  hearty  in  the  pursuit,  I 
cannot  conceive  how  a  government,  armed  as  have  been  all  the 
successive  Irish  governments  of  late  years,  by  strong  enact- 
ments (independently  of  the  exercise  of  Varhitraire,  in  which 
Irish  authorities  delight),  could  fail  to  hunt  out  Ribbonism 
and  extirpate  it  in  a  week. 


CHAPTER  LVIL 

Dolus  versatur  in  generalibus. 


Law  Maxim, 


Turpe  est  aliud  loqui — aliud  sentire — quanto  turpius  aliud  scribere  alLud 
Eentire. 

Seneca. 

THE  reflections  uttered  in  the  last  chapter  had  been  sug- 
gested to  me  in  the  forenoon  of  the  27th  August,  185:^, 
by  some  newspaper  accounts  of  alleged  "  Ribbon"  outrages  in 
the  north  of  Ireland,  when  a  friend  called  upon  me.     He  was 


252  THE    IRISH 

evidently  much  excited.  I  inquired  the  reason,  whereupon, 
without  uttering  a  word,  he  placed  before  me  the  number  of 
the  "Journal  des  Debats"  of  that  day,  pointing  at  the  same 
time  to  its  leading  article,  which  I  proceeded  to  read. 

It  stated,  "  that  in  no  country  of  the  world  was  the  crime 
of  murder  so  frequent  as  in  Ireland,  of  landlords  especially, 
the  landlord  being  generally  a  Protestant." 

That  such  a  sweeping  calumnious  charge  should  be  brought 
against  the  inhabitants  of  a  country — guiltless  of  offence  to- 
wards France — or  to  the  writer  of  it,  whom  I  knew  to  be  a 
very  sincere  and  practical  Catholic — and  that  it  should  be  pub- 
lished in  a  paper  so  respectable  as  the  "  Debats,"  astonished 
me.  I  concurred,  therefore,  with  my  friend  in  thinking  that 
it  ought  to  be  answered.  Taking  time  to  cool  down,  however, 
I  delayed  my  reply  for  a  few  days,  and  then  addressed  to  the 
editor  of  the  Journal  des  Debats — 

"More  in  sorrow  than  in  anger," — 

the  following  letter,  which,  because  of  its  conveying  a  number 
of  facts  illustrative  of  the  character  of  that  much  traduced 
people,  "  the  Irish  at  home,"  I  shall  here  introduce,  pledging 
myself  for  the  correctness  of  every  one  of  its  statements  : — 

"  Paris,  30th  August,  1852. 
''  Sir, 

''  1  appeal  to  your  candour  and  liberality  in  behalf  of  a 
people  and  a  country,  whom  I  regard  as  injuriously  assailed 
in  the  leading  article  of  your  journal  of  Friday  last,  the  27th 
instant. 

"  The  writer  of  that  article  commences  with  an  assumption 
of  the  most  startling  kind,  that  '  England  will  never  become 
mistress  of  Ireland,  until  the  Irish  race  be  extirpated.'  This 
he  found,  no  doubt,  in  some  or  other  of  the  anti-Irish  news- 
papers. It  has  been  a  favourite  opinion  of  certain  parties 
ever  since  its  promulgation  by  a  parliamentary  buffoon,*  some 
twenty-five  years  ago,  who  said  that  '  Ireland  would  be  a  fine 
country  if  submerged  for  four-and-twenty  hours.'  Ireland 
has  not  yet  been  drowned,  however ;  but,  unfortunately  for 
him,  he  has  been.  I  lament  his  fate,  but  shall  not  suppress 
the  record  of  his  malignity  and  absurdity. 

"  The  next  proposition  of  the  writer  in  your  journal  is  still 

*  The  late  Sir  Joseph  Yorke. 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  253 

more  objectionable,  because  it  is  something  else  than  nonsense. 
He  sa\-s  :  '  There  is  no  country  in  the  world  in  which  assassi- 
nation is  more  frequent  than  in  Ireland." 

''  I  know  that  this  also  is  a  mere  repetition  of  the  inconsi- 
derate language  which  he  finds  in  the  newspapers ;  but  it 
being  the  first  time  that  it  has  appeared  in  France,  it  may 
not  be  too  much  to  ask  that  it  be  recalled.  It  is  utterly  un- 
tenable. 

*'I  do  not  think  I  shall  be  contradicted  when  I  say  that 
'to  generalize  is  illogical  and  wrong.'  If  the  writer  of  the 
article  I  refer  to,  were  to  stigmatize  the  murder  of  landlords, 
or  murder  of  any  kind  in  Ireland,  as  hateful  in  the  sight  of 
God  and  man,  there  is  not  a  decent  Irishman  in  existence  who 
would  not  agree  with  him ;  but  to  impute  that  crime  to  the 
Irish  nation,  would  be  unjust,  and,  knowing  him  as  I  do,  I 
am  sure  the  writer  had  no  such  idea  when  he  penned  hi,s 
article. 

"  He  goes  further,  however.  He  asserts  that  the  paucity 
of  convictions  which  occur  in  prosecutions  for  the  murder  of 
landlords  in  Ireland,  proves  the  impossibility  of  bringing  such 
criminals  to  justice.  Now,  I  only  remember  one  case  where 
circumstances  justified  such  a  deduction,  and  that  is  the 
recent  one  which  possibly  suggested  this  surprising  accusa- 
tion— namely,  that  of  the  alleged  assassins  of  Mr.  Bateson. 
If  there  be  others,  let  them  be  stated,  and  I  pledge  myself 
that  the  exceptions  will  be  so  few  as  to  prove  my  rule. 

"  '  To  kill  a  landlord,  is  held  no  crime  in  Ireland,'  says  the 
writer,  'because,  in  general,  the  landlord  is  a  Saxon  or  Pro- 
testant.' 

"  I  am  convinced  that  the  writer  did  not  contemplate  the 
conclusion  to  which  this  sentence  irresistibly  leads.  It  should 
be  rescinded,  nevertheless,  and  with  it  the  admission  should 
be  coupled  that  the  landlords  murdered  in  Ireland  have  not 
been  exclusively  Saxons  or  Protestants,  for  among  them  were 
Mr.  Scully,  Commodore  (Bryan)  O'Reilly,  Mr.  Nangle,  Mr. 
Kenny,  and  Mr.  Marum,  all  of  them  Roman  Catholics.  The 
last-mentioned  was  brother  of  a  Roman  Catholic  Bishop. 

"  Not  only  is  the  crime  of  murder  not  '  more  frequent  in 
Ireland  than  in  any  other  country  in  the  world,'  but  ii  is 
much  less  so.  I  would  fain  believe  that  the  writer  only  meant 
the  murder  of  landlords,  and  vinfortunately  in  that  case  I  should 
be  obliged  to  acquiesce  in  the  assertion,  a  crime  horrible  in  its 


254  THE    IRISH 

nature,  and  the  perpetrators  of  which  are  the  most  deadly  ene- 
mies of  Ireland  that  exist. 

''  Ireland  possesses  seven  millions  of  souls ;  France,  thirty- 
five  millions.  The  population  of  the  capitals  of  the  two  coun- 
tries are  on  a  similar  proportionate  scale.  I  shall  make  no 
other  comparison,  for  recrimination  is  not  my  object;  but  I 
will  declare  that  (and  having  been  an  inhabitant  of  the  city 
of  Dublin  and  its  vicinity  during  the  first  five-and-thirty  years 
of  my  life,  and  not  an  inattentive  observer,  my  declaration 
■should  have  some  weight)  during  those  five-and-thirty  years, 
twelve  murders  only  took  place  in  Dublin  (with  a  population 
of  upwards  of  200,000).  Three  of  them  were  to  effect  rob- 
bery; two  of  them  were  committed  by  political  informers, 
O'Brien  and  (I  think)  Metcalfe,  who  were  executed;  and  by 
armed  yeomen,  soi-disajit  partisans  of  government,  calculating — 
and  correctly — on  impunity,  for  they  were  absolved;  one  (but 
this  has  never  been  proved)  was  the  murder  of  a  man  sus- 
pected of  being  an  informer;  one  charged  against  the  Earl 
of  Kingston,  a  peer  of  the  realm,  but  of  which  the  House  of 
Lords  acquitted  him;  two  by  debtors,  in  resisting  arrest  by 
sheriffs'  officers ;  and  one  by  a  drunken  blacksmith,  who  ran 
a  red-hot  piece  of  iron  down  his  brother-in-law's  throat. 

'*  Ireland  has  been  occasionally,  and  yet  is,  it  is  said,  dis- 
graced by  miscreants  committing  the  foul  crime  of  murder 
upon  landlords  or  their  representatives,  not  to  the  number  of 
thirteen  thousand  in  twenty  years,  as  the  article  I  refer  to  would 
seem  to  convey,  but  in  the  course  of  thirty  or  forty  years  to, 
probably,  the  number  of  twenty;  but  even  this  is  dreadful. 

"  Murder  is  not  characteristic  of  an  Irishman ;  nor  is 
cowardice,  although  King  James  ungratefully  applied  to  them 
that  term.  There  is  not,  as  he  was  told  in  reply,  a  word  in 
their  language  to  signify  it,  no  more  than  there  was  (as  the  late 
Sir  Robert  Peel  so  handsomely  said  in  the  House  of  Commons) 
to  express  another  crime  which  he  indicated,  but  which  can- 
not be  named  in  print.  Nor  is  parricide  a  crime  of  Irishmen ; 
nor  infanticide,  nor  suicide,  nor  incendiarism,  nor  dastardly 
poisoning. 

"  If,  however,  all  the  world  complained  of  Ireland  or  Irish- 
men, France  or  Frenchmen  are  the  last  who  should  denounce 
them.  The  Abbe  MacGrcoghegan  states,  that  600,000  Irish- 
men perished  in  the  service  of  France;  and  he  underrated  them 
by  one-half.     The  Irish  Brigade  of  France  gained  for  France, 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  255 

among  other  victories,  the  battle  of  Fonteuoy.  The  names  of 
Lallj,  Dillon,  Johnson,  O'Brien,  Nugent,  are  associated  with 
the  principal  warlike  achievements  of  France  for  a  hundred 
years,  that  is  to  say,  from  1690  to  1783.  Two  of  Napoleon's 
aides-de-camp — Irishmen — Elliott  and  MacSheehy,  fell  close 
to  his  person,  the  former  at  Areola,  the  latter  at  Eylau.  Jen- 
nings (General  Kilmain)  was  the  first  officer  for  whom  Napoleon 
inquired  on  his  return  from  Egypt. 

"  Of  the  more  modern  Irish  in  the  French  service,  I  shall 
not  speak.  Their  valour  has  been  recognised  by  a  capital 
judge  of  the  commodity.  Marshal  Lannes  died  in  the  arms 
of  his  aide-de-camp,  William  O'Mara.  William  (the  late  Gene- 
ral) Corbet,  was  the  favourite  aide-de-camp  of  Marshal  Mar- 
mont,  Terence  O'Reilly  of  Genei-al  Loison,  sometime  Grand- 
Marshal  of  the  palace ;  distinctions  never  arrived  at  without 
merit. 

"  It  is  not,  however,  in  military  matters  only  that  Irishmen 
should  be  advantageously  borne  in  mind  by  Frenchmen.  The 
Abbe  Edgeworth,  notwithstanding  the  almost  certain  danger 
of  the  proceeding,  attended  Louis  XVI.  to  the  scaffold.  St. 
Columbanus  and  St.  Fiacre  were  among  the  first  missionaries 
who  carried  into  France,  from  Ireland,  Christianity  and  civi- 
lization.* 

*  I  selected  these  two  from  the  number  of  Irish  saints  who  have  figured  ia 
France — because  of  the  celebrity  of  St.  Columbanus  on  the  continent  gene- 
rally— and  of  St.  Fiacro  in  Paris,  where  there  is  a  street  called  after  him — 
and,  especially  because  the  hackney  coaches  (for  what  reason  tradition  sayeth 
not)  bear  his  name.  AVhen  reminded  of  these  facts,  the  French  reply  : 
"yes,  but  did  we  not  give  to  Ireland  her  tutelar  saint? — Patrick — who 
was  born  at  Tours  ?" 

France  is  not,  as  all  the  world  knows,  the  onlj'  country  of  the  continent 
indebted  to  Ireland  for  its  saints. 

I  remember  meeting  at  Wurtzburgh  (in  Bavaria),  a  laquais  de  place, 
who  (having  ascertained  that  I  was  an  Irishman)  made  an  irresistible 
appeal  to  my  purse,  through  my  nationality,  that  was  at  least  adroit.  In 
showing  me  the  sights  of  ^Vurtzburgh,  he  led  me — as  a  matter  of  course — 
to  the  citadel :  half  way  up  the  beautiful  hill,  on  the  summit  of  which  stands 
the  fortress,  we  arrived  at  a  bridge  thrown  over  the  Maine,  aird  which  is 
adorned  by  numerous  statues  of  saints  and  bishops.  Stopping  before  the 
centre  one,  and  uncovering  reverentially  and  making  a  genuflexion,  he  said 
— "  That  is  your  great  countryman." 

"  My  countryman !" 

"  Yes.  The  great  St.  Killi.vn.  He  arrived  here  from  Ireland  in  the 
Ninth  Century,  to  convert  the  inhabitants,  and  was  martyred  yonder.  That 
church  (pointing  to  it)  is  dedicated  to  him.  It  stands  on  the  spot  upon 
which  he  was  burnt." 

"  Saint  Killian  !"  I  repeated,  for  my  memory  failed  me  iu  his  regard. 

"Yes.  He  gives  his  name  to  half  the  men  of  Franconia.  You  will  find 
it,  even  in  Ler  Freischutz." 


256  THE    IKISH 

"  If,  sir,  you  acquiesce  in  my  view  that  injustice  has  been 
done,  however  involuntarily,  to  an  always  gallant  and  a  now- 
suflfering  country,  you  will,  at  your  earliest  convenience,  apply 
an  antidote  to  the  bane,  and  extenuate,  at  least,  the  injurious 
effect  to  my  country  of  the  article  I  complain  of. 
"  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 
"  Sir, 
''  Your  very  obedient  servant. 


This  letter,  which  I  signed  with  my  name,  remains  unan- 
swered and  unnoticed,  and  the  justice  I  besought  for  Ireland 
and  Irishmen  is  withheld,  and  adds  painfully  to  the  feeling 
with  which  the  first  perusal  of  the  attack  impressed  me. 

The  statistics  of  crime  which  the  foregoing  letter  contains, 
I  shall  here  enlarge  upon. 

The  three  cases  of  murder  for  the  purposes  of  robbery, 
referred  to,  were,  first,  that  of  a  gentleman  named  Barry, 
residing  in  North  Frederick  Street,  by  his  footman.  The 
second,  the  assassination  of  an  old  lady  and  her  chambermaid 
in  Peter's  Row,  fifty  years  since,  by  an  attorney  of  the  name 
of  Crawley.  The  third,  the  murder  of  a  poor  woman  who  let 
lodgings  in  a  cellar  in  Thomas  Street,  by  her  servant,  in  which 
case,  moreover,  the  murderess  was  not  Irish.  The  informers, 
who  became  murderers,  and  who  paid  the  penalty  of  their 
crimes,  were  Metcalfe,  an  artillery  soldier,  who  stabbed  a 
wretched  woman,  his  concubine ;  and  James  O'Brien  who 
murdered  an  invalid  gentleman  named  Hoey.  One  of  the  two 
soi-disa7it  loyal  yeomen  who  shot  unoffending  men  in  the  streets, 
was  a  nailor  named  Shiel,  living  in  Kevan  Street,  who,  in  spite 
of  positive  and  unimpeachable  evidence,  was  acquitted.  The 
name  of  the  other  assassin  who  shot  a  poor  young  man,  literally 
in  the  arms  of  his  mother,  in  Golden  Lane  or  its  vicinity,  I 
forget.  The  person  run  through  the  body,  coming  out  of 
Astle^s  Amphitheatre,  in  the  year  1797,  was  named  Kelly. 
He  had  the  reputation  of  giving  private  information  to  govern- 
ment of  the  proceedings  of  the  United  Irishmen,  but  no  pro- 
ceeding to  bring  his  assassin  to  justice  took  place,  so  far  as  I 
can  recollect.  The  homicide  charged  against  Lord  Kingston 
was  committed  upon  his  Lady's  nephew,  for  the  seduction  of 
his  Lordship's  daughter.  One  of  the  two  debtors  who  respect- 
ively shot  the  sheriffs'  bailiffs,  was  a  captain  in  the  navy  named 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  257 

C .     The  name  of  the  other  has  escaped  me,  as  well  as 

that  of  the  blacksmith ;  but  I  remember  well  surgeon  Colles's 
attempt  to  bring  him  to  life  by  galvanism,  after  execution. 

Respecting  the  assassination  of  landlords  and  their  agents, 
it  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  give  any  particulars,  for  the 
recollection  of  those  cases  is  still  fresh  in  the  jjublic  memory, 
the  crime  being  of  modern  gi'owth.  I  shall,  however,  notice 
one,  for  a  particuLir  reason — namely,  that  of  Mr.  Bryan 
O'Reilly,  agent  to  his  relative,  Mrs.  (afterwards  Lady)  Talbot, 
of  Malahide,  who,  like  her  brother.  Sir  Hugh  O'Reilly,  inhe- 
rited a  large  fortune,  in  the  county  of  Westmeath,  from  their 
uncle,  Governor  Nugent,  whose  patronyme — by  the  way — the 
Baronet  was  obliged  to  assume. 

The  murder  of  Mr.  Bryan  O'Reilly — who  had  served  and 
attained  the  rank  of  Commodore  in  the  navy — took  place  in 
open  day,  early  in  the  year  1815.  He  had  been  collecting  the 
rents  due  to  Mrs.  Talbot,  and  was  followed  throughout  the 
whole  day  by  his  murderer,  whom  he  had,  I  believe,  ejected 
from  a  farm  on  the  estate  of  Mrs.  Talbot,  and  who,  in  some 
by-road,  shot  him  through  the  back.  The  assassin  was,  how- 
ever, almost  immediately  ai'rested  ;  the  pi'oofs  against  him  were 
incontestable,  and  he  was  committed  to  Mullingar  jail,  to  abide 
his  trial  at  the  approaching  assizes,  which  were  to  take  place 
in  March.  He  had  not  been  long  in  prison,  when  he  confessed 
his  crime  to  the  jailor. 

On  the  16th  or  17th  of  March,  1815,  he  was  brought  to 
trial.  At  that  period  it  was  the  custom  to  try  murderers  on  a 
Friday,  in  order  (as  the  law  allowed  only  forty-eight  hours 
between  conviction  and  execution)  that  they  should  have  the 
benefit  of  the  Sunday,  and  live  over  to  Monday.  Under  this 
impression,  the  attorney  for  the  prosecution  told  his  witnesses 
that  they  need  not  attend  until  the  Friday,  which  was,  I  think, 
the  18th  of  March.  Without  consulting  him,  however,  the 
prisoner  was  brought  up  for  trial  on  the  Thursday,  arraigned 
and  given  in  charge  to  the  jury;  and  as  there  was  no  evidence 
against  him,  he  was  acquitted. 

Upon  these  facts,  the  process  called  "  trial  of  battle"  was 
invoked  by  the  family  of  Mr.  O'Reilly,  and  combated  with 
extraordinaiy  talent  and  complete  success  by  Counsellor  Mac- 
Nally,  whose  arguments  on  the  occasion  constituted  subse- 
quently the  grounds  for  the  repeal  by  Pai'liament  of  that 
absurd  law. 


258  THE   IKISH 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

You  hardly  will  believe  such  things  wore  true 

As  now  occur.     I  thought  that  I  would  pen  you  'em. 

Byrox  {Don  Juan). 

THE  disorganization  of  society  in  Ireland  produced  by  con- 
quests, forfeitures,  confiscations,  and  religious  persecution 
(but  which,  like  faction,  was  only  the  madness  of  many  for  the 
gain  of  a  few),  assumed  now  what  the  French  call  a  fearful 
development.  The  self-proclaimed  Protestant,  which  was  fre- 
quently a  misnomer,  for  he  was  a  mere  robbei*,  seized  and  en- 
tered upon  the  lands  and  houses  of  the  Papists,  and  turned 
them  to  his  own  use ;  sometimes  without  any  form  of  law,  and 
more  frequently  by  its  perversion ;  always,  however,  to  the  utter 
disregard  of  justice.  To  encourage  proselytism  in  the  vain 
belief  that  real  conversion  would  grow  out  of  professed  con- 
formity, rewards  were  oifered  to  children  to  declare  against 
their  parents,  brothers  were  armed  against  brothers,  servants 
against  masters.  False  friends  pertaining  to  the  State  religion, 
to  whom  property  was  transfeo'red  in  trust  by  Roman  Catholic 
owners,  who  hoped  by  that  subterfuge  to  preserve  at  once  their 
worldly  possessions  and  their  faith,  repaired  to  the  Court  of 
Chancery,  and  declared  that  fact,  and  as  a  matter  of  course 
became  the  proprietors. 

Of  this  species  of  perfidy  and  baseness,  a  remarkable  instance 
occurred  in  the  vicinity  of  Dublin.  Mr.  Malpas,  who  erected 
the  obelisk  on  Killiney  Hill,  which  still  remains  (and  a  most 
striking  ornament  of  Dublin  Bay  it  is),  handed  over  by  deed 
to  a  neighbour,  and  soi-disant  friend,  Mr.  Espinasse,  a  very 
considerable  landed  property ;  of  which,  in  the  manner  above 
described,  Espinasse  possessed  himself.  Not  content  with 
this  spoliation,  he  denounced  his  confiding  friend  as  a  Jacobite 
as  well  as  a  Papist.  "  Malpas's  obelisk,"  said  he,  "  is  only  a 
landmark  for  the  Pope." 

The  effect  of  this  system  was  naturally  to  perpetuate  the 
hatred  of  the  Roman  Catholics  for  the  government  which  pre- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  259 

scribed — at  least  permitted — and  legalized  these  confiscations 
Families  hitherto  respectable,  affluent,  hospitable,  and  gene- 
rous, but  now  plundered  and  impoverished — nay,  reduced  to 
misery — fell  into  disrepute  and  were  compelled  to  solicit  alms 
of  those  who  had  been  their  pensioners — the  cottiers  (small 
landholders),  in  many  instances,  sheltering  and  supporting 
their  late  landlords.  Honourable  pride,  virtue,  self-respect, 
gave  way.  In  a  few  cases  the  Catholics  conformed  nominally 
to  the  State  religion,  to  save  a  remnant  of  their  property.  The 
contempt  of  their  late  co-religiouists,  relatives,  or  friends,  who 
adhered  under  all  the  consequences  to  the  faith  of  their  fathers, 
and  the  maledictions  of  the  Church  and  the  populace,  were 
poured  upon  them,  liemorse  and  irritation  did  the  rest.  The 
new  convert  became,  as  usual,  still  more  the  Protestant  and 
persecutor  than  he  who  had  never  professed  any  other  creed 
or  principles.  In  the  majority  of  instances,  the  Catholic  who 
repelled  apostacy  was  crushed,  worn  down,  broken-hearted; 
all  pride,  spirit,  and  self-esteem  gave  way,  and  the  previous 
landholder  sank  into  the  condition  of  the  pauper  or  the  serf. 
Thus,  in  my  youth,  ''the  Devoy,"  chief  of  a  powerful  tribe, 
was  a  blacksmith ;  the  Byrne  of  Ballymanus,  a  woollen-draper  j 
the  Cheevers,  Lord  Mount  Leinster,  clerk  to  Mrs.  Byrne,  rope- 
maker,  of  New  Row,  Thomas  Street. 

Two  examples  of  the  working  of  the  system,  which  pre- 
vailed even  so  lately  as  eighty  years  ago,  will  suffice  to  convey 
an  idea  of  the  situation  of  the  Catholic  gentry  of  that  period. 

Robin  Balfe  was  a  gentleman  possessing  a  tolerably  large 
fortune,  residing  in  Cortown  Castle,  near  Kells,  in  the  county 
of  Meath.  He  was  the  eldest  of  six  or  eight  brothere,  giants 
in  stature,  all  of  whom  lived  in  the  castle  or  its  dependencies ; 
and  having  no  profession  or  pursuit,  became  almost  of  neces- 
sity, and  like  their  contemporaries  upon  the  adverse  faction, 
dissolute  and  riotous.  Towards  the  year  1745,  his  friends 
perceived  that  Robin  Balfe,  then  a  man  of  thirty  or  forty 
years  of  age,  displayed  symptoms  approaching  to  imbecility  or 
folly,  which  declared  itself  in  inordinate  susceptibility  of  the 
tender  passion.  Fearing  that  he  would  contract  a  marriage 
with  an  inferior,  his  brothers  pressed  him  to  seek  a  wife  in  the 
circles  of  the  gentry  of  the  county.  He  said  he  would  think 
of  it.  When  pressed  more  closely,  he  desired  that  they  would 
suggest  to  him  a  suitable  match.  They  named  several,  all  of 
which  he  declared  non-receivable,  on  grounds  the  most  absurd. 


260  THE   IKISH 

Miss  Bligh  (of  Lord  Darnley's  family),  for  example,  he  scorned; 
"the  Blighs  being  scarcely  a  hundred  years  settled  in  Meath !" 
Alarmed  at  this  opposition  to  their  project,  his  friends  became 
importunate,  and  said  :  "  Since  you  disapprove  all  that  we  pro- 
pose, choose  for  yourself." 

"Now  you  talk  common  sense,"  said  he,  "I  will  marry  the 
daughter  of  a  gentleman — a  pretty  girl  I  have  long  loved." 

"  What  gentleman  ?" 

"  Ned  Balfe,  of  Nobber." 

Whether  agreeable  or  otherwise  to  his  family,  they  acqui- 
esced in  this  choice ;  and  Robin  Balfe  married  his  fair  name- 
sake, and  brought  her  home  to  his  castle. 

At  that  period  there  iived  a  certain  "Counsellor  John 
O'Reilly."  He  was  a  gentleman  by  birth,  and  a  barrister  by 
profession,  as  the  title  given  to  him  indicates,  and  was  in  some 
respects  the  O'Connell  of  that  day.  He  was  a  man  of  talent 
and  energy,  and  had  been  deputed  by  the  Roman  Catholics 
of  Ireland  to  represent  them,  I  will  not  say  at  the  Court  of 
George  II.,  but  to  hold  for  them  "a  watching  brief,"  and  to 
interfere  on  the  spot  in  matters  connected  with  his  mission, 
communicating  the  results  to  his  constituents,  and  informing 
them  whenever  any  new  danger  or  attack  menaced  them  or 
their  property. 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  funds  to  maintain  "Counsellor 
John"  O'Reilly  in  this  position  failed;  his  own  patrimony  was 
expended,  and  he  returned  penniless  to  Ireland,  without  hav- 
ing achieved  much  for  those  who  had  deputed  him  to  London. 
"Power  is  too  powerful,"  said  he;  "we  must  submit  to  fate." 

Although  unsuccessful,  he  was  well  received  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  gentry,  whose  interests  he  had  certainly  sought  to 
maintain.  Money  was  out  of  the  question.  They  ofiered  him 
hospitality,  and  he  continued  for  some  time  the  guest  in  suc- 
cession of  half  the  Catholic  families  of  Meath.  Among  others, 
Robin  Balfe  was  more  than  kind  to  him ;  he  invited  him  to, 
and  domesticated  him  in  Cortown  Castle  for  a  long  period. 

An  improper  intimacy  between  O'Reilly  and  the  lady  of 
hi.'?  host  ensued.  Not  content  with  their  disregard  of  all  the 
ties  which  bound  them  to  the  unhappy  Robin  Balfe,  now  fall- 
ing into  idiotcy,  they  sought  to  render  him  the  laughing-stock 
of  his  servants,  tenants,  and  neighbours ;  parading  him  in 
grotesque  apparel,  with  his  face  daubed  with  yellow  ochre. 

Indignant  at  and  fatigued  by  this  infamous  abuse  of  the 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  261 

poor  man's  weakness,  and  irritated  possibly  by  the  temporary 
alienation  of  their  brother's  income  for  0'E,eilly's  benefit,  Ro- 
bin's giant  relatives  resolved  on  taking  the  law  into  their  own 
hands — no  unusual  practice  in  those  days.  They  imprisoned 
him  in  a  chamber  of  his  own  house,  therefore,  and  turned  his 
faithless  wife  and  her  paramour  out  of  doors. 

The  guilty  pair  did  not  quit  the  castle  empty-handed,  how- 
ever. They  carried  with  them  an  iron  coffer,  in  which  were 
preserved  the  title-deeds  of  the  estate,  and  other  family  docu- 
ments ;  and  these  they  pawned  with  Sir ,  grandfather  of 

the  present  Lord ,  for  a  thousand  pounds. 

The  lender  waited  not  repayment:  he  "filed  a  bill  of  dis- 
coveiy  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,''  as  that  process  was  deno- 
minated in  those  days.  He  showed  that  Balfe  was  a  Papist, 
and  he  himself  a  Protestant,  and  a  decree  was  passed  invest- 
ing him  with  the  estate. 

The  brothers  of  lialfe  resisted.  They  defended  with  their 
persons,  and  by  the  aid  of  their  retainers,  the  Castle  of  Cor- 
town,  and  with  some  loss  of  life,  I  think.  Overpowered,  they 
retired  at  length,  and  perceiving  that  all  their  efforts  to  obtain 
justice  were  vain,  one  or  two  of  them,  infuriated  by  their 
wrongs,  conformed  to  the  Protestant  religion,  and  claimed  the 
alienated  estates.  After  a  long  course  of  impoverishing  liti- 
gation, they  were  beaten  by  the  baronet  (he  was  not  yet 
ennobled).  One  of  them  fell  in  a  duel ;  another,  I  think,  in 
retaining  forcible  possession  of  the  castle.  Reduced  to  po- 
verty, the  survivors  ended  their  days  in  obscurity  and  unhap- 
piness. 

The  descendant  of  Robin  Balfe,  the  chief  of  the  family, 
was  in  its  reduced  condition  ''apprenticed"  about  the  year 
1760,  ''to  a  trade,"  the  refuge  of  the  offspring  of  half  the 
ancient  Roman  Catholic  families  of  Leinster.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  the  present  century,  he  was  a  turner,  living  in  Cathe- 
rine Sti-eet,  near  Meath  Street,  Dublin,  and  emigrated  to  the 
United  States  of  America  shortly  afterwards,  where  probably 
his  descendants  still  exist.* 

A  gleam  of  hope  for,  but  which  never  reached  him  in  his 
exile,  occurred  some  thirty  years  since  to  a  relative  of  his,  a 
member  of  the  legal  profession.  In  reflecting  upon  the  un- 
happy Ml  of  the  Balfes,  this  cousin  remembered  that  previ- 

»  His  own  Christian  name  was  Patrick.    That  of  bis  eldest  son,  Michael. 


262  TPIE    IRISH 

ously  to  the  elopement  of  3Irs.  Robin  Balfe  with  ''  Counsellor 
John,"  a  portion  of  his  (Balfe's)  estate,  called  Balrath,  now 
of  the  value  of  four  thousand  pounds  per  annum,  had  been 
mortgaged  to  a  Mr.  Nicholson  for  a  thousand  pounds ;  and  that 
Mr.  Nicholson  being  a  Protestant,  and  in  possession,  that  por- 
tion of  Robin  Balfe's  estate  was  not  mentioned  in  the  decree 

on  the  bill  of  discovery,  filed  by  Sir  .     He  further 

ascertained  that  Mr.  Nicholson,  being  an  honest,  honourable 
man,  or  satisfied  with  undisturbed  possession  of  the  lands  and 
mansion-house  of  Balrath,  had  taken  no  steps  to  legalize  his 
holding  the  portion  of  the  Papist's  property  over  which  he  had 
a  lien. 

Alas  !  limitation  had  run  against  the  claim  which  the  law- 
yer  was  about  to  make  for  restitution  of  his  relation's  property, 
and  that  hope  vanished. 

One  word  more  respecting  this  unfortunate  family,  to  illus- 
trate further  the  operation  of  the  penal  laws  at  that  period. 
One  of  the  Balfes,  brothers  of  Robin,  who  had,  as  the  phrase 
went,  "  turned  Protestant,"  in  order  to  claim  and  recover  the 
family  fortune,  became  from  change  of  position,  chagrin,  pri- 
vation, and  resentment,  an  irritable,  violent,  desperate  man, 
and  being  of  huge  proportions,*  was  the  terror  of  half  the 
country,  especially  when  in  his  cups,  "his  custom  of  an  after- 
noon." In  a  public-house  brawl  one  night,  he  was  beset  by  a 
roomful  of  half-intoxicated  men,  whom  he  had  insulted.  During 
half  an  hour  he,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  defended  himself 
resolutely  and  efi"ectively,  inflicting  fearful  wounds  on  the  as- 
sailants. At  length  a  window  over  his  head  was  opened,  and 
a  virago  armed  with  a  churndash  appeared  at  it.  With  a 
terrible  blow,  which  fractured  his  skull,  she  felled  the  giant. 

He  was  carried  to  the  house  of  his  sister  (a  Mrs.  Owen 
O'Reilly),  where  it  was  found  that  his  case  was  desperate. 
Informed  that  his  death  was  inevitable,  Balfe,  who  had  never 
contemplated  a  real  change  of  creed,  eagerly  consented  to 
receive  the  visit  of  a  Roman  Catholic  clergyman.  Becoming 
from  that  fact,  however,  what  was  termed  ''■  a  relapsed  Papist," 
and  the  laws  against  "  Popish  priests"  administering  the  sacra- 
ments of  their  Church,  particularly  to  persons  in  his  cireum- 

*  Tbero  is  in  the  Balfe  family  a  tradition  that  the  seven  brothers  in 
question  were  singularly  "constructed" — and,  that  instead  of  ribs — divided 
and  connected  in  the  usual  way,  they  possessed  a  plate  of  bone,  "which 
accounts  for  their  extraordinary  strength  !" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    IIOMi;.  263 

stances,  being  severe  (in  fact  it  was  a  capital  oifeuce),  much 
secrecy  was  required  in  procuring  for  the  dying  man  the  con- 
solations of  religion.  A  clergyman — a  former  proUje  of  the 
family — was  found,  however,  to  brave  the  consequences.  Dis- 
guised as  a  woman,  and  seated  on  a  pillion  behind  a  peasant 
of  the  neighbourhood,  he  arrived  at  the  house  where  Balfe 
lay,  and  having  administered  the  sacraments  to  the  dying  man, 
withdrew. 

The  surviving  brothers  of  Balfe,  affected  by  the  condition 
of  their  relative,  expressed  their  determination  to  take  ven- 
geance of  the  faction  by  whom  he  had  been  murdered,  as  they 
deemed  it.  "  No,"  said  the  dying  gladiator,  with  a  last  effort, 
"  let  there  be  no  vengeance — no  prosecution.  I  brought  it  on 
myself"  Then  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  his  eye 
momentarily  flashing,  as  he  looked  upwards,  he  added,  in  the 
words  and  with  the  air  of  Altamont : — 

"  I  conquered  in  my  turn.     With  that  blackthorn  stick  I 

struck  the  first  blow  which  brained  Jack  ."     Having 

uttered  this,  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow,  and  expired. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

Diseur  de  bons  mots,  mauvais  caractSre. 

Pascal. 

Qui  nescit  dissimulare  nescit  vivere. 

THE  second  instance  of  the  working  of  the  penal  code,  in 
its  legalization  of  confiscation,  and  encouragement  of  soi- 
cUstait  conversions  to  the  established  religion,  which  I  pro- 
mised, is  the  following.  Coupled  with  the  foregoing,  it  pre- 
sents a  perfect  illustration  of  the  then  condition  of  the  Catholics 
of  Ireland : — 

Seventy  or  eighty  years  ago,  there  resided  in  Soho  Square, 
London,  an  Irish  Roman  Catholic  gentleman,  known  among 
his  friends  as  "  Geoghegan  of  London"  (father  of  the  late  ex- 
cellent Baroness  Montesquieu).  Pretending  to  be,  or  being 
really,  alarmed,  lest  a  relative  (Mr.  Geoghegan,  of  Jamestown) 
should  conform  to  the  Protestant  religion,  and  possess  himself 


264  THE    IRISH 

of  a  considerable  property,  situate  in  Westmeath,  Ireland,  of 
■which  he  ("  Gcoghegan  of  London")  was  tenant  for  life,  and 
of  which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  Geoghegan  of  Jamestown 
was  the  presumptive  heir,  Geoghegan  of  London  resolved  upon 
a  proceeding  to  which  the  reader  will  attach  any  epithet  it 
may  seem  to  warrant. 

He  repaired  to  Dublin,  reported  himself  to  the  necessary 
authorities,  and  professed,  In  all  its  required  legal  forms,  the 
Protestant  religion  on  a  Sunday,  sold  his  estates  on  Monday, 
and  relapsed  into  Popery  on  Tuesday. 

He  did  not  effect  these  changes  unostentatiously;  for  ''He 
saw  no  reason  for  mauvaise  Jionte,"  as  he  called  it.  He  ex- 
pressed admiration  of  the  same  principle  of  convenient  apo.s- 
tacy,  which  governed  Henri  IV. 's  acceptance  of  the  French 
crown.  "  Paris  vaut  bien  une  messe,"  said  that  gay,  chival- 
rous, but  somewhat  unscrupulous  monarch.  Thus,  when  asked 
the  motive  for  his  abjuration  of  Catholicism,  Geoghegan 
replied  :  "  I  would  rather  trust  my  soul  to  God  for  a  day,  than 
my  property  to  the  fiend  for  ever." 

This  somewhat  impious  speech  was  in  keeping  with  his 
conduct  at  Christ-Church  when  he  made  his  religious  profes- 
sion :  the  sacramental  wine  being  presented  to  him,  he  drank 
off  the  entire  contents  of  the  cup.  The  officiating  clergyman 
rebuked  his  indecorum.  "  You  need  not  grudge  it  me,"  said 
the  neophyte  ;  "  it's  the  dearest  glass  of  wine  I  ever  drank." 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  entered  the  Globe 
Coffee  Room,  Essex  street,  then  frequented  by  the  most 
respectable  of  the  citizens  of  Dublin.  The  room  was  crowded. 
Putting  his  hand  to  his  sword,  and  throwing  a  glance  of  defi- 
ance around,  Geoghegan  said, 

"  I  have  read  my  recantation  to-day,  and  any  man  who  says 
I  did  right  is  a  rascal  I" 

There  exists  still,  a  further  expression  of  Mr.  Geoghegan, 
which,  had  the  features  I  have  traced  not  been  preserved, 
would  convey  a  perfect  picture  of  the  man;  but  it  was  a  jest 
upon  a  matter  too  sacred  to  justify  its  repetition  in  print  in 
the  terms  employed.     The  gist  of  it  is  this. 

A  Protestant  with  whom  he  was  conversing  the  moment 
before  he  left  home  to  read  his  recantation,  said  to  him  :  "  For 
all  your  assumed  Protestantism,  Geoghegan,  you  will  die  a 
Papist." 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  265 

"  Fi  done,  mon  ami  I"  replied  he.  "  That  is  the  last  thing 
of  vrhich  I  am  capable." 

One  more  specimen  of  the  operation  of  the  penal  laws,  and 
I  have  done  with  that  part  of  my  subject,  which  is  one  so 
ungracious  that  nothing  but  the  necessity  for  plainly  exhibit- 
ing the  system  could  induce  me  further  to  dwell  upon  it. 

Mr.  G-eoghegan,  just  mentioned,  had  a  relative,  Mr.  Kedagh 
Geoghegan,  of  Donower,  in  the  county  of  Westmeath,  who, 
though  remaining  faithful  to  the  creed  of  his  forefathers, 
enjoyed  the  esteem  and  respect  of  the  Protestant  resident 
gentry  of  his  county  beyond  most  men  of  his  time.  Not- 
withstanding that  his  profession  of  the  Roman  Catholic  reli- 
gion precluded  his  performing  the  functions  of  a  grand  juror, 
he  attended  the  assizes  at  Mullingar  regularly,  in  common  with 
other  gentlemen  of  Westmeath,  and  dined  with  the  grand 
jurors. 

On  one  of  those  occasions,  a  Mr.  Stepney,  a  man  of  con- 
siderable fortune  in  the  county,  approached  him,  and  re- 
marked :  "  Geoghegan,  that  is  a  capital  team  to  your  carriage. 
I  have  rarely  seen  four  finer  horses — nor  better  matched. 
Here,  Geoghegan,  are  twenty  pounds,"  tendering  him  a  sum 
of  money  in  gold.  "  You  understand  me.  They  are  mine." 
And  he  moved  towards  the  door,  apparently  with  the  intention 
of  taking  possession  of  his  soi-disant  purchase.  The  horses, 
not  yet  detached  from  Mr.  Geoghegan's  carriage,  were  still  in 
the  yard  of  the  inn  close  by. 

''  Hold,  Stepney  !"  said  Geoghegan.  ''  Wait  one  moment. 
I  shall  not  be  absent  for  more  than  that  time."  He  then 
quitted  the  room  abruptly,  and  was  seen  running  in  great  haste 
towards  the  inn  at  which  he  always  put  up. 

There  was  something  in  the  scene  that  had  just  occurred 
which  shocked  the  feelings  of  the  witnesses  of  it,  and  some- 
thing in  the  manner  of  Geoghegan,  that  produced  among  them 
a  dead  silence  and  a  conviction  that  it  was  not  to  end  there. 
Not  a  word  was  yet  spoken,  when  the  reports  of  four  pistol- 
shots  struck  their  ears,  and  in  a  few  seconds  afterwards  Geog- 
he^-an  was  perceived  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  inn, 
laden  literally  with  fire-arms.  He  mounted  to  the  room  in 
which  the  party  were  assembled,  holding  by  their  barrels  a 
brace  of  pistols  in  each  hand.  Walking  directly  up  to  Step- 
ney, he  said  :  "  Stepney,  you  cannot  have  the  horses  for  which 
you  bid  just  now." 
12 


266  THE    IRISH 

"  I  can,  and  will  have  them." 

"You  can't.  I  have  shot  them;  and,  Stepney,  unless  you 
be  as  great  a  coward  as  you  are  a  scoundrel,  I  will  do  my  best 
to  shoot  you.  Here,  choose  your  weapon,  and  take  your 
ground.     Gentlemen,  open  if  you  please,  and  see  fair  play." 

He  then  advanced  upon  Stepney,  offering  him  the  choice 
of  either  pair  of  pistols.  Stepney,  however,  declined  the  com- 
bat and  quitted  the  room,  leaving  Geoghegan  the  object  of  the 
unanimous  condolements  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  over- 
whelmed with  their  expressions  of  sympathy  and  of  regret  for 
the  perversion  of  the  law  of  which  Mr.  Stepney  had  just 
sought  to  render  him  the  object. 

In  tendering  twenty  pounds  for  horses  that  were  worth 
twenty  times  that  sum,  Stepney  was  only  availing  himself  of 
one  of  the  enactments  of  the  penal  code,  which  forbade  a 
Papist  the  possession  of  a  horse  of  greater  value  than  five 
pounds. 

Xotwithstandinsr  this  incident,  old  Kedasrh  Geoi^hecan  con- 
tinned  to  visit  MuUingar  during  the  assizes  for  many  years 
afterwards;  but  to  avoid  a  similar  outrage,  and  to  keep  in 
recollection  the  cruel  nature  of  the  Popery  laws,  his  cattle 
thenceforward  consisted  of  four  oxen. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

Our  country  sinks  beneath  the  yoke. 


It  weeps;  it  bleeds;  and  each  new  day  a  gash 
Is  added  to  her  wounds. 

Jllacheth. 

IT  was  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century  that  the  "  No 
Popery"  system  attained  to  its  culminating  point  in  Ireland. 
Then,  and  for  sixty  years  afterwards,  the  British  Government, 
whatever  its  own  views  of  it  were,  felt  obliged  to  acquiesce  in 
those  of  the  home  party,  and  to  permit,  with  all  the  reputation 
of  directing  them,  inflictions  on  the  proscribed  sect,  which  were 
highly  disapproved  by  every  man  of  liberality  and  sagacity 
connected  with  the  government.  Of  this  latter  class  an'illus- 
trious  example  was  found  in  the  Lord-lieutenant  of  the  day 
(1746  I  think),  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Chesterfield. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  267 

The  time  is  not  remote  from  the  present,  when  the  British 
Government  wisely  interfered  to  terminate  pai'tj  processions 
and  manifestations  in  Ireland ;  but  there  remained  then  to  be 
removed  only  a  trifling  remnant  of  the  pomp  and  circumstance 
with  which  Orange  festivals  and  triumphs  were  celebrated  at 
the  period  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  viceroyalty,  and  dviring  a 
long  while  afterwards.  The  principal  of  those  were  the  1st, 
12th,  and  2Sth  of  July,  the  anniversaries  respectively  of  the 
battles  of  the  Bovue  and  of  Anchrim,  and  of  the  siese  of 
Enniskillen,  when  with  very  questionable  taste,  feeling,  and 
policy,  the  Catholics  were  reminded  of  their  defeat  and 
humiliation  by  salutes  from  the  batteries  in  the  Park  and  at  the 
Pigeon  House.  The  night  closed  with  fireworks  and  bonfires. 
King  William's  birth-day  (the  4th  of  November)  was  observed 
with  more  ceremony.  Within  ray  own  recollection,  and  even 
till  the  period  of  the  Union,  on  each  4th  of  Xovcmber,  the 
troops  composing  the  garrison  of  Dublin  marched  from  their 
respective  barracks  to  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  there  turning 
to  the  right  up  to  the  Castle,  and  to  the  left  to  the  College, 
lined  the  streets,  Cork  Hill,  Dame  Street,  and  College  Green, 
on  each  side  the  way. 

At  the  same  time  the  Lord-lieutenant  would  be  holding  a 
levee  j  a  drawing-room  wound  up  the  observances,  at  which  the 
nobility,  the  bishops,  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons 
(the  Speaker  at  their  head),  the  judges,  the  bar,  the  provost, 
vice-provost,  and  fellows  of  Trinity  College,  the  Lord  Mayor, 
aldermen,  and  other  public  functionaries  wei'e  present.  The 
levee  over,  the  Lord-lieutenant  issued  in  his  state-carriage  and 
with  great  pomp  from  the  Castle,  passed  down  the  line  of 
streets,  and  round  the  statue  of  King  William,  and  then 
returned  to  the  Castle  ;  followed  also  in  carriages  by  the  great 
officers  of  state,  the  bishops,  the  Houses  of  Lords  and  Com- 
mons, and  those  of  the  gentry  who  had  been  present  at  the 
levee. 

So  omnipotent  and  exigeant  was  the  ruling  faction,  that  it 
became  the  custom  in  Lord  Chesterfield's  time,  and  long 
afterwards,  for  every  person,  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen, 
appearing  at  the  levees  or  drawing-rooms  at  the  Castle  on  the 
festivals  in  C|uestion,  to  wear  orange  lilies  in  their  bosoms  or 
at  their  houtonniere,  and  it  was  on  one  of  those  occasions  that 
Lord  Chesterfield  paid  to  a  Miss  Ambrose,  afterwards  Lady 


268  THE    IRISH 

Palmer,  the  reigning  belle  of  the  day,  the  well-known  com- 
pliment, but  which  nevertheless  I  shall  venture  to  transcribe. 
The  levees  and  drawing-rooms  of  that  period  were  more 
exclusive  than  the  good  sense  and  condescension  of  modern 
British  sovereigns  have  rendei'ed  them.  I  have  heard  that 
the  only  member  of  the  family  of  a  man  in  trade,  who  figured 
in  the  vice-regal  assemblies  at  the  Castle  at  that  time,  was  the 
young  and  transcendently  beautiful  lady  just  mentioned.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Ambrose,  an  opulent  brewer,  and  a 
Roman  Catholic.  At  the  drawing-room  held  on  the  4th  of 
November,  1745  or  1746,  Lord  Chesterfield  approached  her, 
and  glancing  at  the  flower  in  her  bosom,  uttered  the  following 
impromptu  : — 

"Pretty  Tory,  where's  the  jest, 
Of  wearing  orange  on  a  breast, 
AVhich  in  whiteness  doth  disclose 
The  beauty  of  the  rebel  rose  ?" 

This  was  not,  however,  the  only  compliment  paid  her  by 
that  liberal  and  spirituel  nobleman. 

On  retiring  from  his  government,  and  presenting  himself 
at  Court  in  London,  George  II.  asked  him,  among  other  ques- 
tions :  "  My  Xiord  Chesterfield,  are  not  those  Irish  Papists 
most  dangerous  persons  ?"* 

"  I  never  met  but  one  deserving  that  character,  sir." 

"  No  !  and  who  was  that  V 

"  Miss  Ambrose." 

Seventy  years  afterwards  I  was  presented  to  her  at  her 
residence  in  Henry  Street,  Dublin.  Being  informed  by  the 
friend  to  whom  I  owed  the  honour  of  my  introduction  to  her 
Ladyship,  that  I  ought  to  make  my  bow  to  the  gods  of  her 
idolatry — Lord  Chesterfield  and  Napoleon,  whose  portraits  oc- 
cupied prominent  places  in  the  drawing-room — I  acquitted 
myself  so  satisfactorily  by  a  genuflexion  before  each,  imme- 
diately after  my  obeisance  to  herself,  that  I  obviously  made 
upon  the  venerable  lady,  then  upwards  of  ninety,  a  favourable 
impression. 

"You  are  fond  of  portraits,  I  perceive,"  said  she;  "there 
is  another  in  the  room.  Do  you  find  it  to  resemble  any  person 
you  have  seen  ?" 

It  was  that  of  a  lovely  dark  girl  of  eighteen  or  twenty. 

*  Thenceforward,  for  more  than  a  century  Lady  Palmer  was  spoken  of 
fl.3  "the  dangerous  Papist." 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  269 

The  tnitli  flashed  upon  me,  and  I  replied  with  a  bow  of 
unaffected  veneration,  "  A  great  deal.  In  the  eyes  especially ;" 
and  I  spoke  truly. 

I  might  have  added  that  the  fine  aquiline  nose  remained,  but 
ninety  years  had  impaired  its  harmony  with  the  other  features, 
and  reference  to  it  in  terms  of  admiration,  might  have  suggested 
to  the  still  keen-witted  lady  that  I  presumed  to  flatter. 

In  person,  Lady  Palmer  was  tall,  as  tall  as  another  celebrated 
woman,  to  whom,  when  also  advanced  in  life  (in  September, 
1830),  I  had  the  advantage  of  being  presented — I  mean 
Madame  de  Genlis.  The  literary  reputation  of  the  latter  dis- 
tinguished her  from  Lady  Palmer;  but  the  unspotted  character 
of  the  dangerous  Papist  was  an  ample  compensation  for  any 
comparative  deficiency  of  esjyrit. 

Very  few  of  the  living  generation  in  Ireland  remember  the 
daughter  of  Madame  de  Genlis,  the  Lady  Pamela.  She  died 
in  Paris,  twenty  years  ago,  in  circumstances,  the  mention  of 
which  would  inflict  a  pang  on  all  who  deplore  the  untimely 
end  of  her  fearless,  ardent,  chivalrous  husband.  Lord  Edward, 
and  affix  a  merited  stigma  on  near  relatives  whose  misfortunes 
induce  me  to  spare. 

Poor  Lady  Pamela  !  When  a  little  boy,  and  passing  one  day 
with  a  relative,  near  the  Royal  Exchange,  Dublin,  she  was 
pointed  out  to  me  walking  with  her  husband.  I  was  recom- 
mended to  impress  their  appearance  on  my  memory,  and  it  is 
engraven  upon  it.  The  portrait  of  Lord  Edward,  given  in 
Moore's  life  of  him,  is  a  perfect  resemblance. 

Lord  and  Lady  Edward  were  each  below  the  middle  size ; 
both  good-looking.  He,  lively  and  animated ;  she,  mild,  but 
not  serious  of  aspect.  Fearless  though  some  danger  attended 
it,*  he  wore  a  green  coat  and  a  green-and-white  cravat;  she 
was  dressed  in,  I  think,  a  cloth  walking-dress  of  dark  green, 
and  a  green  neckerchief,  for  it  was  in  winter. 

Before  I  paused  to  mention  my  introduction  to  Madame  de 
Genlis,  I  had  been  relating  the  circumstances  of  my  presenta- 
tion to  Lady  Palmer.  The  remaining  incidents  of  my  recep- 
tion were  common-place,  except,  perhaps,  that  (in  compliment 
to  my  tact  and  discernment,  I  suppose)  I  was  gratified  with 
double  rations  of  seed-cake  and  London  particular  :  the  one, 

*  Green  is  the  national  colour  of  the  Irish,  ami  was  between  1796  and 
1799  prohibited  because  of  its  indiscreet  and  impolitic  display  by  the  United 
Irishmen. 


270  THE    IRISH 

because  it  was  invariably  served  to  a  visiter;  the  other,  in 
acknowledgment  possibly  of  my  gallantry. 

Lady  Palmer  lived  many  years  afterwards.  Her  Ladyship, 
although  the  only  bonrgeoue,  was  not  the  only  Roman  Catholic 
who  appeared  at  the  Castle  balls  and  drawing-rooms  in  those 
times.  There  is  a  story  told  of  a  lad}',  a  member  of  the  old 
Clare  of  Westmeath  family  (I  have  heard  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  the  fourth  Earl  of  Westmeath,  and  the  honoui-- 

able Bellew,  daughter  of  Lord   Bellew),  who  for  some 

reason  which  has  escaped  me,  was  strangely  distinguished  by 
the  title  of  "  Captain  Moll  Nugent."  Perhaps  it  was  the 
following  circumstance  that  obtained  for  her  that  unfeminine 
title.     The  name  "  Moll"  was  not  deemed  derogatory. 

Generally  speaking,  in  mixed  companies — that  is  in  good 
society — allusion  to  politics,  to  Jacobites,  or  Williamites,  was 
omitted,  even  in  those  days.  Sometimes,  either  through  design 
or  inadvertence,  however,  etiquette  was  infringed,  and  the 
Roman  Catholics  present  were  aifronted,  by  toasts  or  expres- 
sions recalling  to  them  their  defeat.  Thus,  at  supper  after  the 
ball  given  at  the  Castle  on  a  4th  of  November,  the  Lord- 
lieutenant  for  the  time  being,  gave  as  a  toast,  ''  the  glorious 
and  immortal  memory  of  the  great  and  good  King  William, 
who  delivered  us  from  brass  money,  Pope,  Popery,  wooden 
shoes,  and  slavery !" 

"I'll  drink  your  toast,  my  Lord,"  said  Miss,  or  Lady,  Moll 
Nugent,  who  was  one  of  the  company — "  but  with  a  trifling 
addition,  if  you  will  give  me  leave." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  Viceroy. 

"  Then,"  said  she,  ''  I  shall  add  the  memory  of  the  sorrel 
horse  that  kicked  his  brains  out !" 

This  is  not  a  pleasant  story.  Much  less  does  it  furnish  a 
type  of  the  Irishwoman  of  rank  of  that  period. 

"I  do  not  like  your  manly  belles, 
Your  Chevaliers  d'Eon,*  and  Hannali  Snells." 

But  allowance  must  be  made  for  a  high-spirited  young  woman, 

*  One  of  the  most  extraordinary  episodes  of  the  history  of  the  last 
century  will  be  a  memoir  of  this  person,  whose  celebrity  rested  a  good  deal 
on  showy  talent  and  skill,  and  especially  upon  the  doubts  that  existed 
respecting  his  sex  up  to  the  moment  of  his  decease  in  London,  at  a  very 
advanced  age.  Frequently,  while  a  young  boy,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  present  century,  I  dined  in  company  with  a  man  well  known  in  Europe 
in  that  day,  the  Chevalier  O'Gorman,  who  had  married  a  sister  of  the 
Chevalier  d'Eon.     It  will  scarcely  be  credited,  that  at  that  period  O'Qor- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  271 

a  rigid  Roman  Catholic  possibly,  and  certainly  a  fanatical  par- 
tisan of  the  expelled  Stuarts,  to  whom,  the  legal  possessors  of 
the  throne  of  those  realms,  her  fomily  had  been  faithful  even 
to  desperation,  and  had  suffered  for  it  in  its  members  and  in 
its  property.  All  this,  and  her  daily  observation  of  the  perse- 
cution of  her  friends  and  creed,  and  of  insults  wantonly 
offered  to  her  party,  which  none  of  the  male  sex  dared  resent, 
rankled  in  her  bosom,  and  it  only  required  the  slightest  spark 
to  produce  an  explosion.  This  display  of  intolerance  and 
ascendancy  at  a  social  party,  she  considered  the  more  cowardly 
because  chastisement  of  it  could  not  be  anticipated,  there 
being  no  male  Roman  Catholic  present.  She  rose,  therefore, 
to  protest  against  what  she  deemed  a  violation  of  the  rights  of 
hospitality  and  of  the  principles  of  good-breeding;  ''for," 
she  continued  to  argue,  ''  he  who  gave  the  original  toast  knew 
there  was  present  at  least  one  Roman  Catholic  lady  whose 
susceptibilities  it  was  sure  to  wound.''  Viewed  as  the  circum- 
stance may  be,  now  when  we  are  all  sober,  the  toast  drunk  by 
Captain  Moll  Nugent  raised  her  to  the  pinnacle  of  popularity 
with  her  party. 

When  incidents  like  these  were  possible  in  high  places,  the 
latitude  will  easily  be  conceived  in  which  as  regarded  insult 
and  provocation,  and  resistance,  the  inferior  grades  of  society 
indulged,  and  the  consequent  state  of  in-itation  in  which  the 
country  was  held  for  a  hundred  years.  A  hundred  years? 
Ay,  and  upwards ;  for  long  after  the  conmiencement  of  the 
present  century  there  continued  to  exist  in  the  front  of  a  house 
in  Nassau  Street,  Dublin,  between  Grafton  Street  and  Dawson 
Street,  a  marble  tablet,  inserted  in  the  wall,  in  which  a  bust 
of  King  William,  of  the  natural  size,  and  in  bas-relief,  was 
to  be  seen,  and  beneath  it  this  inelegant  and  unworthy 
distich  : — 

"  May  we  never  want  a  Williamite, 
To  kick  the  breech  of  a  Jacobite." 

This  monument  of  intolerance  and  execrable  taste  was, 
moreover  (at  the  expense  of  the  city,  it  would  seem)  as  regu- 
larly painted,  and  its  epigraph  as  carefully  picked  out  prepara- 

man  himself  believed  Chevalier  d'Eon  to  be  a  woman.  I  have  more  than 
once  heard  him  express  that  opinion. 

An  engraved  portrait  of  him  at  the  ago  of  35  (that  is,  of  the  year  1763); 
is  now  before  me.  It  represents  a  female  head  and  well  developed — (and 
decolhti)  bust .' 


272  THE    IRISH 

torj'  to  each  4th  November,  as  the  statue  of  King  William  on 
College  Green.  That  it  caused  heartburning,  I  recollect  well ', 
and  yot  its  removal  was  due  only  to  the  demolition  of  the 
entire  house  for  the  purpose  of  local  improvement. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

There  is  in  this  young  man's  conduct  a  strain  of  prostitution,  -which,  for 
its  singularity,  I  cannot  but  admire.  He  has  discovered  a  new  line  in  the 
human  character.     He  has  degraded  even  the  name  of  LfTTRELL. 

Junius  (Letter  to  Lord  North). 

THE  lines  above  quoted  were  written  by  his  great  country- 
man, Sir  Philip  Francis,*  when  the  subject  of  them, 
Henry  Lawes  Luttrell,  afterwards  Earl  of  Carhampton,  was 
little  more  than  thirty  years  old !  How  justly  the  immortal 
critic  judged,  will  be  seen  in  this  chapter. 

Twenty  years  would  seem  to  have  produced  no  improvement 
in  his  conduct,  for  somewhere  about  the  year  1790  there 
appeared  in  Dublin  a  pamphlet  written  by  Dr.  Boyton,  an 
eminent  physician,  in  which,  although  not  expressly  named, 
Lord  Carhampton  found  himself  charged,  by  innuendo,  with  a 
capitally  criminal  outrage  upon  an  orphan,  or  very  poor,  and 
very  young,  girl,  named  Mary  Lawless,  procured  for  him  by  a 
wretched  woman  of  the  name  of  Mary  Lewellyn. 

This  pamphlet  bore  for  epigraph  the  following  extract  from 
''Lear:"— 

"Tremble,  thou  wretch. 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice !" 

As  accessory  before  the  fact,  in  the  offence  just  mentioned, 
Mary  Lewellyn  was  prosecuted,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to 
death  at  the  Commission  Court  of  Oyer  and  Terminer,  held 
in  Green  Street,  Dublin.  With  respect  to  the  principal  in 
the  atrocity,  the  evidence  of  his  identity  was  not  so  conclusive 
as  to  justify  the  impeachment  of  him  whom  public  rumour 
pointed  at  as  the  criminal ;  but  the  perpetration  of  the  capital 

*  It  is  now  questionless  that  Jtiuius  was  Sir  Philip  Francis — aided, 
probably,  by  his  great  countryman  Burke,  but  who  I  admit  denied  all  know- 
ledge of  or  participation  in  those  unrivalled  strictures. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  273 

offence  was  fully  proved.  Lord  Carhampton,  therefore,  escaped 
the  punishment  which  his  wretched  instrument,  as  was  every- 
where said  and  believed,  had  incurred.  A  certain  Saturday 
was  named  for  its  infliction  upon  her. 

The  peer  stood  his  ground  without  flinching,  although  the 
whole  torrent  of  public  opinion  was  poured  against  him,  accom- 
panied by  curses  loud  and  deep.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  man 
whom  nothing  could  intimidate ;  but  his  disregai-d  of  danger 
did  not  obtain  for  him  that  involuntary  consideration  which 
Dr.  Johnson,  I  think,  in  speaking  of  the  personal  courage  of 
Richard  and  Macbeth,  says  always  suggests  itself  in  favour 
of  an  intrepid  man,  even  when  he  happens  to  be  a  villain. 
Lord  Carhampton  was  hated,  despised — hateful  and  despicable. 

About  the  time  of  these  incidents,  there  flourished  in 
Dublin,  an  ex-clei'gyman  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  who 
had  succumbed  to  the  seducer  of  ''all  mankind,"  as  the  phi- 
losophic Filch  has  it,  and  who  had  in  one  and  the  same  day 
embraced  the  Established  Church  and  a  buxom  wife  in  the 
person  of  a  widow  with  whom  he  had  been  long  intimate. 
This  convert,  while  ofiiciatiug  and  serving  as  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  was  known  as  Father  Fay.  I  forget  whether,  with  the 
usual  pension  allowed  to  persons  in  his  circvimstances,  his 
orthodoxy  was  rewarded  with  a  living,  but  if  it  were,  it  proved 
insuflScient ;  for  some  time  after  his  recantation  and  marriage, 
Father  Fay  brought  himself  into  trouble,  and  by  the  simplest 
possible  process,  namely,  that  of  afiixing  to  a  slip  of  stamped 
paper,  at  the  end  of  certain  lines  promising  to  pay  to  some- 
body a  hundred  pounds,  another  name  than  his  own,  upon 
which  document  he  obtained  the  sum  specified  less  the  lawful 
interest,  for  Father  Fay  was  scrupulous  on  that  point.  When 
the  bill  came  to  maturity,  the  forgery  was  discovered,  and  the 
Reverend  Benedick  was  remorselessly  arrested,  committed  to 
prison,  brought  to  trial,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be 
hanged. 

Fortunately  for  him  (as  the  world  of  Dublin  argued)  he 
was  ordered  to  be  executed  on  the  same  day  and  on  the  same 
scafibld  with  Mary  Lewellyn ;  for  a  reprieve  and  commutation 
of  punishment  having  issued  in  favour  of  the  monster  instru- 
ment in  the  ruin  of  an  innocent  child,  the  government  (so  it 
was  surmised  by  the  Dublin  public)  could  not  think  of  allow- 
ing the  law  to  take  its  coui'se  in  a  case  of  infinitely  less  depra- 
vity. Thereupon  Father  Fay  was  also  reprieved,  and  with  his 
12* 


274  THE    IRISH 

fair  companion  ordered  to  be  transported  to  the  new  penal 
settlement,  Botany  Bay,  for  life. 

I  do  not  remember  whether  Mary  Lewellyn  was  actually 
transported,  but  Father  Fay  made  the  voyage  to  Sydney.  He 
must  have  conducted  himself  well  there,  for  after  a  few  years 
he  was  allowed  to  return  home.  He  settled  in  the  county  of 
Kildare  as  a  tanner,  visited  Dublin  occasionally,  and  was 
pointed  out  to  me  about  the  year  1798.  He  was  a  keen,  sen- 
sible-lookins;  man,  and  I  remember  hearino-  of  him  enouo;h  to 
justify  belief  that  he  was  a  United  Irishman  in  principle,  but 
his  character  of  ''  reprobate  priest"  forbade  his  reception  into 
any  of  the  innumerable  societies  of  that  body  in  Kildare. 
How  his  career  ended  I  have  never  heard. 

The  commu.tation  of  the  punishment  awarded  against 
Mary  Lewellyn  was,  as  above  mentioned,  assigned  by  public 
agreement  to  the  credit  of  Lord  Carhampton,  and  was  held  to 
add  considerably  to  the  already  strong  presumptive  evidence, 
circulated  and  believed,  of  his  complicity  in  the  outrage  of 
which  the  child  Mary  Lawless  had  been  the  victim,  and  upon 
the  following  mode  of  inference. 

It  was  a-propos  of  the  celebrated  election  for  Middlesex, 
held  at  Brentford  early  in  Decembei*,  1768,  that  Junius  spoke 
of  Lord  Carhampton,  in  the  terms  prefixed  to  this  chapter. 
Everybody  knows  the  history  of  that  disgraceful  proceeding. 
Colonel  Luttrell  was  the  ministerial  candidate,  and  employed 
to  defend  him  and  assault  his  opponents,  a  mob  of  despera- 
does. In  the  course  of  the  fearful  riots  which  ensued,  these 
ruffians  attacked  some  partisans  of  the  popular  candidates 
(John  Wilkes  and  Sergeant  Whitaker)  with  staves,  bludgeons, 
and  other  deadly  weapons,  when  a  man  named  George  Clarke 
was  killed  by  one  of  Colonel  Luttrell's  bravoes,  an  Irish  chair- 
man of  the  name  of  Edward  MacGuirk.  He  was  tried  for 
the  murder  of  Clarke,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  death ; 
but,  as  was  believed,  Colonel  Luttrell  used  all  his  influence  in 
his  favour,  and  through  the  Duke  of  Grafton  (as  stated  by 
Junius)  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  free  pardon  for  him. 

The  recollection  of  this  fact  suggested,  possibly,  to  Dr. 
Boyton  new  ground  for  suspicion  against  Lord  Carhampton, 
in  the  case  of  Mary  Lewellyn.  Without  bestowing  upon  his 
LordsTiip  praise  for  protecting  his  guilty  instruments,  Dr. 
Boyton  argued  that  he  who  so  successfully  interested  himself 
for  Edward    IMacGuirk,  would    consistently  seek    to  relieve 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  275 

Mary  Lewellyu  from  the  consequences  of  her  zeal  in  his  ser- 
vice. The  clemency  of  the  government  in  respect  of  the 
latter,  and  the  notorious  influence  of  Lord  Carhampton  at  the 
Castle,  were  considered  by  Dr.  Boyton  irrefragable  proofs  of 
his  Lordship's  guilt. 

Under  this  impression,  Dr.  Boyton  wrote  the  pamphlet 
alluded  to.  It  recapitulated  the  known  facts  of  the  case, 
showed  that  the  principal  was  more  guilty  than  the  accessory ; 
and  pointing  at,  without  naming,  Lord  Carhampton,  stated 
that  he  deserved  death  for  it.  This  pamphlet  produced  a 
great  sensation  in  Dublin. 

One  forenoon,  immediately  after  its  publication.  Dr.  Boy- 
ton received  a  visit  from  an  intimate  friend,  a  person  already 
of  considerable  celebrity,  Archibald  Hamilton  Bowan,*  a  gen- 
tleman of  large  fortune,  whose  country  residence  was  at  Rath- 
coffey,  in  the  county  of  Kildare,  but  who  identified  himself  with 
the  popular  party  in  all  the  political  occurrences  of  the  day 
in  Dublin.  On  his  entrance  into  Boyton's  study,  the  latter 
hastened  to  meet  him,  and  said  :  "  Bowan,  you  are  the  very 
man  I  wanted.     Bead  this;"  handing  him  an  opened  letter. 

Bowan  sat  down  and  read  the  letter,  which  was  a  challenge 
from  Lord  Carhampton,  demanding  the  contradiction  of  cer- 
tain passages  in  Dr.  Boyton's  pamphlet,  ''which  went  to 
charge  him.  Lord  Carhampton,  with  the  crime  committed 
upon  the  person  of  Mary  Lawless,"  or  a  meeting. 

"  And  you  wish  me  to  act  for  you  in  this  affair,  Boyton  ?" 
said  Rowan. 

"  Certainly.  That  is,  I  wish  you  to  see  Carhampton's 
friend,  and  fix  the  time  and  place  for  our  meeting ;  and  with- 
out delay,  lest  the  matter  take  wind,  and  we  be  arrested." 

"  That  may  become  my  duty  as  your  friend,"  replied  Ha- 
milton Bowan ;  "  but  as  you  repose  your  honour  in  my  hands, 
you  must  leave  to  me  the  arrangements  which  I  may  consider 
called  for." 

"  I  do  so  most  implicitly,"  said  Boyton. 

They  shook  hands,  and  Bowan  left  for  Lord  Carhampton's 
residence.  On  reaching  it  he  was  immediately  introduced  to 
his  Lord.ship. 

"I  come,"  said  Bowan,  ''as  the  friend  of  Dr.  Boyton." 

*  namilton  Rowan,  eight  or  ten  years  afterwards,  sought  the  hospitable 
shores  of  the  United  States— being,  for  his  conne.xion  with  the  conspiracy 
of  the  United  Irishmen,  banished  by  Act  of  Parliament. 


276  THE    IRISH 

"  This  is  irregular,"  interrupted  Lord  Carhampton.     "  See 

my  friend,  Colonel ,  who  will  take,  with  you,  the  measures 

necessary  for  our  meeting." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Rowan  ;  "  I  must  have  a  little  preliminary 
explanation  with  yourself." 

"  With  me  ?" 

"  Yes.    You  wrote  this  letter  in  my  hand  to  Dr.  Boyton  ?" 

"I  did." 

*'  Why  ?" 

"  Why  ?  Because  he  accuses  me  of  being  a  ravisher,  and 
deserving  of  the  gallows." 

"Who  says  that  my  friend  Dr.  Boyton  charges  you  with 
that  crime  ?" 

'ado." 

"  On  what  ground  ?" 

"  On  this,"  said  the  little  man,  now  in  a  fury.  "  On  this ;" 
and  he  handed  Dr.  Boyton's  pamphlet  to  Rowan. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  point  out  to  me  the  passages  of 
which  you  complain." 

A  tint  of  red  suffused  the  yellow  visage  of  his  Lordship. 

"There!"  said  he,  "and  there — and  there!  Is  not  that 
enough  ?" 

"  I  perceive  that  Boyton  does  not  spare  invective  or  con- 
demnation of  the  criminal.     Who  is  he  ?" 

"  Who  is  whom  ?" 

"  The  criminal." 

Caught  in  the  snare  thus  adroitly  prepared  for  him  by  the 
wily  Rowan,  the  show  of  blood  in  Carhampton' s  cheeks  dis- 
appeared ;  instead  of  its  being  replaced  by  his  usual  jaundice 
hue  he  became  livid,  and  gasped  for  breath  in  rage  and  disap- 
pointment. 

"  You  are  silent,  my  Lord.  I  will  put  the  question  in 
another  way.  Was  it  you  who  outraged  the  poor  child  spoken 
of  in  this  book  ?" 

"  I !     How  dare  you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?" 

"  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man,"  said  Rowan,  with 
an  air  of  pity  or  contempt;  "'who  dares  do  more  is  none.' 
You  know  the  quotation,  and  will  make  its  application." 

"  I  only  know  and  feel  that  Boyton  must  contradict  those 
statements,  or  fight  me,"  said  the  peer,  recovering. 

"  Now  hear  me,  my  Lord,  and  quietly.  I  find  that  Boyton 
shows  that  a  horrible  crime  has  been  committed,  and  he  asserts 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  277 

that  the  perpetrator  deserves  hanging.  This  conclusion  you 
must  yourself  admit/' 

"  I !     I  admit  nothing." 

*'  I  cannot  find  that  Lord  Carhampton  is  stated  in  this  book 
to  be  the  criminal.  Do  you,  my  Lord,  accept  the  criminality, 
and  in  that  character  challenge  Dr.  Boyton  ?" 

"  I !     A  thousand  times  no  I" 

"Then,"  said  Rowan,  rising  and  drawing  his  magnificent 
person  to  its  full  height,  ''  why  have  you  written  this  letter  to 
Dr.  Boyton  ?  Of  what  have  you  to  complain,  unless  you  iden- 
tify yourself  with  the  monster  he  denounces  ?  Your  name 
occurs  not  in  any  part  of  this  book." 

"Ah!"  said  the  humbled  peer;  "ah!  I  perceive  that  I 
have  been  too  hasty.     Very  well,  I  withdraw  the  challenge." 

"  Let  me  have  it  under  your  hand." 

The  peer  sat  down,  and  wrote  a  note  to  the  efi'ect  that  he 
recalled  the  letter  of  the  preceding  night,  that  he  had  written 
to  Dr.  Boyton,  "which  was  founded  on  misconception."  He 
then  handed  it  to  Hamilton  Bowan,  who  read  it,  folded  it,  and 
put  it  into  his  pocket. 

"  Now,  sir,  our  interview  is  at  an  end,"  said  his  Lordship, 
pointing  to  the  door. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Rowan.  "  My  mission  was  to  demand 
on  what  ground  you  challenged  my  friend  Boyton  ;  and  if  that 
were  refused  me,  to  make  the  arrangements  for  a  hostile  meet- 
ing. This  extremity  has  been  obviated.  Now  my  duty  is  to 
demand  of  you,  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Boyton,  a  written  apology 
for  sending  him  a  message  on  grounds  which  you  have  just 
retracted." 

Never  was  there  between  two  men  a  more  sti'iking  contrast 
than  that  displayed  by  Lord  Carhampton  and  Hamilton  Rowan 
at  that  moment.  The  one,  a  man  below  the  middle  size,  ex- 
quisitely formed,  however ;  but,  as  the  song  went, 

"As  beautiful,  charming,  and  fair 
As  saffron  and  charcoal  could  make  him  ;" 

brave  to  desperation ;  but  now  reduced  to  a  beaten,  crouching 
attitude  from  conscious  guilt  and  rage,  at  having  committed 
himself,  and  having  lost  the  vengeance  on  which  he  had 
reckoned,  with  a  feeling  moreover  that  he  had  been  over- 
reached ;    while,  towering  above  him,  stood  one  of  the  most 


278  THE    IRISH 

superb  men  of  his  time,*  who,  to  the  pride  and  satisfaction  of 
having  succeeded  in  an  important  mission  for  an  esteemed 
friend,  added  the  expression  of  triumph  over  a  deadly  political 
adversary. 

Lord  Carhampton  wrote  the  required  apology,  and  Rowan 
withdrew. 

Independently  of  the  character  given  him  by  Junius,  and 
of  the  affair  just  narrated,  Lord  Carhampton  would  appear  to 
have  been  a  bad  fellow.  He  was,  as  I  have  already  said,  brave, 
and  as  ready  to  provoke  or  answer  a  challenge  as  any  ruflBer  of 
that  period  of  violence.  He  had  a  taste  for  society.  He  was, 
for  instance,  a  "  Monk  of  the  Screw,"  and  did  not  want  for 
moyens  ;  but  the  traditional  curse  of  his  country  weighed  upon 
him,  and  kept  him  constantly  in  a  feverish  state  of  preparation 
to  resist  allusion  to  it.  I  have  mentioned,  in  the  short  speech 
of  General  Montague  Mathew,  on  the  Treaty  of  Limerick,  the 
crime  committed  against  his  country  by  the  ancestor  of  Lord 
Carhampton,  and  which  entailed  on  his  progeny  abhorrence 
and  detestation. 

"  That  Luttrell  sold  the  pass,  no  man  can  deny,"  said  the 
regretted  Mounty. 

To  understand  this,  it  is  only  necessary  to  know  that  the 
defence  of  a  pass  through  a  bog  into  the  position  of  King 
James's  forces,  was  confided  to  Colonel  Luttrell  on  the  12th  of 
July,  1690.  He  betrayed  that  trust,  and  thus  facilitated  the 
victory  of  the  Williamites  at  Aughrim. 

In  my  youth,  the  most  detested  name  that  could  be  uttered 
in  Ireland,  was  that  of  Luttrell.  It  was  ever  present  to  the 
recollection  of  the  Roman  Catholic  party  in  particular,  one  of 
whom  Luttrell  had  been,  and  was  used  as  an  epithet  of  reproach 
and  hatred  on  the  strangest  occasions. 

About  the  period  of  which  I  have  been  lately  speaking, 
there  lived  in  Fishamble  Street,  Dublin,  a  shoemaker,  the  Hoby 
of  the  day.  His  name  was  Conolly.  His  daughter  married 
Mr.  James  Conolly,  the  most  intelligent,  enterprising,  and 
successful  merchant  Ireland  ever  possessed.  Conolly,  the 
shoemaker,  was  not  a  natural  son  of  the  gentle  craft.  His 
family  had,  like  hundreds  of  others,  been  overthrown,  and  he 
himself,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  overwhelmed  and  hope- 

*  Hamilton  Rowan  must  be  well  remembered  by  the  aged  citizens  of  the 
United  States,  having  emigrated  thither  from  France  when  the  Republic 
was  no  more. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  279 

less  helplessness  of  the  time,  had  beeu  ''put  to  a  trade,"  as 
the  Devoys,  aud  the  Balfes,  and  the  Cheeverses  had  beeu,  of 
whom  I  have  spoken. 

Lord  Carhampton's  person  was  symmetry  itself,  of  ■which 
advantage  he  availed  himself  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  counte- 
nance, which,  with  the  mental  qualities  and  disposition  attri- 
buted to  him,  obtained  for  him,  six  or  eight  years  later,  in 
*'  The  Press"  newspaper,  the  sobriquet  Satanides.  His  boot- 
maker was  Conolly,  of  course. 

One  day  Lord  Carhampton  left  the  Castle,  strolled  up  Castle 
Street,  and  turned  down  Fishamble  Street,  and  entering  Con- 
olly's  shop,  inquired  whether  the  dress  boots  had  been  made 
which  he  had  ordered  ? 

"  Yes,  my  Lord,  they  have  just  come  in.  Nowlau,  where 
are  my  Lord's  boots  that  you  have  brought  home  ?" 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  Nowlan. 

"  Try  them  on,  my  Lord,  then." 

The  peer  sat  down ;  but  instead  of  a  tight  fit,  which  he 
always  desired,  the  boots  were,  though  for  the  rest  of  the  world 
too  small,  for  him  "  larger  than  the  largest  size." 

''Look  here,  Conolly,"  said  the  Lord,  "they  are  not  boots, 
they  are  churns  \" 

Conolly  looked  at  them  for  a  moment,  apparently  vinable  to 
speak.  "  Leave  the  way,"  said  he  to  Nowlan;  and  then,  under 
the  influence  of  concenti'ated  rage,  he  knelt  down,  aud  without 
effort  drew  off  the  Lord's  boots.  To  seize  them  by  the  legs,  to 
rise,  and  to  catch  Nowlan  by  the  collar,  were  only  the  work  of  a 
moment.  Then  showering  on  the  unfortunate  fellow  blows 
with  them  over  the  head,  on  the  face,  on  the  shoulders,  and 
everywhere  that  he  could  get  at,  he  exhausted  himself,  ex- 
claiming with  every  blow  of  the  boots  :  "  You  Luttrell  son  of 

a !    You  Luttrell  son  of  a I     You  Luttrell  son  of  a 

t" 


His  Lordship,  pulling  on,  himself,  the  boots  he  had  just 
put  off,  to  ti-y  the  new  ones,  made  his  escape  while  the  scene 
just  described  was  being  enacted. 

Such  incidents  as  these  (for  some  or  other  reference  to  the 
treason  of  his  grandfather  was  of  constant  recurrence)  contri- 
buted, no  doubt,  to  augment  the  malevolence  to  which  his 
atrabilarious  habit  predisposed  him. 


280  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

Vendidit  hie  auro  patriam. 


VlKGIIi. 


LORD  CARHAMPTON'S  after  life  fully  justified  the  esti- 
mate of  liis  character  formed  by  Junius — adding  daily  to 
his  hereditary  patrimony  of  public  abhorrence,  until  his  mea- 
sure of  detestation  was  full  and  running  over.  The  principal 
reason  for  all  this  execration  was  given  in  Montague  Mathew's 
short  speech,  elsewhere  quoted,  as  every  Irish  reader  will  have 
understood.  "  That  Luttrell  sold  the  Pass,"  said  General 
Mathew,  ''no  man  can  deny;"  but  those  words  explain  not 
to  the  general  reader  the  origin  of  Lord  Carhampton's  unen- 
viable inheritance.     It  can  be  done  in  a  few  words  : — 

"  To  Colonel  Luttrell,  his  Lordship's  grandfather,  had  been 
intrusted  the  defence  of  the  pass  through  a  bog  which  led  into 
the  centre  of  the  Irish  (King  James's)  position  at  Aughrim. 
He  betrayed  his  trust  by  delivering  it  to  the  enemy ;  and  the 
battle  was  lost,  bringing  with  it — but,  it  is  now  believed,  unne- 
cessarily— the  total  discomfiture  of  the  Irish  army,  and  the 
consequent  Treaty  of  Limerick." 

Such  is  the  popular  belief;  but  his  treason  consisted  in 
disobedience  of  an  order  of  his  General  and  friend  (the  immor- 
tal Sarsfield),  to  meet  and  co-operate  with  the  garrison  of 
Galway  at  Six  INIile  Bridge ;  instead  of  which  he  entered  into 
a  negotiation  with  the  English  to-  betray  Limerick.  For  this 
crime  he  was  arrested,  tried  by  court-martial,  and  found  guilty; 
but  was  reserved  to  abide  the  King's  pleasure.  The  surrender 
of  Limerick,  however,  occurred,  and  saved  him  from  an  igno- 
minious death ;  but  only  to  perish  a  few  years  later  by  the  hand 
of  an  assassin. 

This  wretched  man,  Colonel  Luttrell,  was  shot  in  a  sedau 
chair,  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  College  Green, 
Dublin.  The  chairmen  averred  that  they  were  not  aware  of 
the  event  until,  having  arrived  at  the  point  or  place  to  which 
he  had  desired  thera  to  bear  him,  they  stopped ;  and,  opening 


ABROAD    AND    AT    UOME.  281 

the  chair  for  him  to  issue  from  it,  found  him  weltering  in  his 
blood,  and  quite  dead.  They  declared  that  they  had  heard  no 
report,  and  concluded,  "  therefore, ''  that  the  pistol  with  which 
he  was  shot  had  been  charged  with  ichitc  powder ! 

These  particulai's  I  have  never  seen  iu  print.  They  are 
derived  from  oral,  but  indisputable,  tradition.  The  compilers 
of  peerages — Debrett  in  particular — have,  with  intelligible 
complaisance,  suppressed  the  military  title  and  army  rank  of 
the  traitor,  and,  consequently,  all  mention  of  his  crime ;  stating 
merely  that  "  Henry  Luttrell,  Esq.,  of  Luttrellstown,  married  in 
October,  1704,"  and  "  had  issue,  Simon,  father  of  Henry 
Lawes,  2d  Earl  of  Carhampton." 

Such  was  the  career  and  end  of  ''  Luttrell  the  Traitor" — but 
common  fame,  which,  this  time,  requires  corroboration,  subjoins 
some  supplementary  particulars  which  were  rife  among,  and 
firmly  believed  by,  the  people,  in  my  youth. 

The  demesne  and  mansion  of  the  Luttrells  (Luttrellstown), 
four  or  five  miles  distant  from  the  city  of  Dublin,  is  beautifully 
situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  Liffey.  It  now  bears  the 
name  of  Woodlands,  to  which  it  was  changed  by  the  late  Irish 
Croesus,  Luke  White,  who  purchased  it  of  the  Lord  Carhamp- 
ton  of  whom  Junius  and  I  (smile  not  at  the  association,  reader) 
have  been  speaking.  His  Lordship  is  said  to  have  had  the  best 
of  the  ci-devant  bookseller  in  the  bargain,  a  rather  uncommon 
incident  in  Mr.  White's  business  transactions,  but  not  extra- 
ordinary considering  the  traditional  cleverness  of  the  Luttrells 
in  evading  the  terms  of  an  agreement  for  sale,  and  of  which 
here  is  an  instance. 

Near  to  this  demesne  of  Luttrellstown,  I  remember  to 
have  been  shown  a  water-mill,  or  mills,  which  bore  the  rather 
repulsive  title  of  "  the  Devil's  ^lills"  from,  as  I  have  been 
assured,  the  following  circumstance. 

His  Satanic  Majesty,  impatient  to  foreclose  a  mortgage  he 
held  upon  the  life  of  Colonel  Luttrell,  called  upon  him  one 
night,  and  declared  he  would  wait  no  longer  for  his  due.  The 
Colonel,  admitting  the  treaty  which  subsisted  between  them, 
entrenched  himself  behind  his  privileges,  and  demanded  that 
the  terms  of  it  should  be  observed. 

"What  terms,  and  may  it  please  you?"  asked  the  Old 
One. 

"  What  terms !     Do  you  not  remember  that  you  were  to 


282  THE    IRISH 

do  for  me  three  things,  or  the  bargain  should  be  void  ?  One 
only  of  them  has  been  performed." 

"  True ;  but  I  have  not  been  called  upon  to  execute  the 
remaining  provisions,  and  concluded,  therefore,  that  you  relin- 
quished further  claim  upon  my  services,  and  were  prepared  to 
carry  out  our  treaty  by  a  waiver,  which  would  entitle  me  to  my 
property  in  you  whenever  I  should  demand  it." 

'' '  I  have  had  no  such  stuff"  in  my  thoughts.'  " 

"  Propose  the  other  tasks,  then,  for  I  will  not  be  fobbed  off" 
in  this  way  any  longer.     What  do  you  require  ?" 

"  Build  me  a  mill,  or  mills,  yonder,  before  morning." 

"  Before  morning !  Where  am  I  to  find  bricks  and  mortar 
at  this  short  notice  ?" 

"  Where  you  please.  That  is  your  aff'air.  If  jou  do  not 
that  which  I  ask,  I  shall  see  you — far  enough — before  I  go 
with  you." 

Satan  gnashed  his  teeth,  but  withdrew,  while  the  Colonel 
made  the  welkin  roar  with  unseemly  mirth  at  having  posed  the 
old  gentleman. 

Aladdin  was  not,  however,  more  astonished  on  awaking  one 
morning  and  beholding  a  palace  raised  during  the  preceding 
night  by  his  friendly  genius,  than  was  Colonel  Luttrell  on 
the  forenoon  of  the  day  following  his  late  colloquy  with  his 
ally  the  devil,  when  (being  at  his  ease  respecting  his  debt 
to  Old  Nick,  he  had  slept  sounder  and  to  a  later  hour  than 
usual),  on  going  to  his  window,  he  caught  a  view  of  mills,  with 
their  wheels  a-going,  which  had  no  existence  the  evening 
before. 

"  Done  !"  said  he,  "  by  all  that's  horrible  !  I  have,  how- 
ever, another  chance,  and  must  take  care  to  make  the  most  of 
it,  for  the  fiend  will  no  doubt  call  upon  me  to-night  for  the 
last  job,  or  the  forfeiture." 

Precisely  as  he  had  foreseen,  the  devil  presented  himself  to 
the  Colonel  that  night.  "  You  see,"  said  he,  "  how  ridiculous 
it  is  in  you  to  seek  to  withhold  from  me  the  price  of  the  labours 
you  have  imposed  upon  me.  Surrender  with  a  good  grace,  and 
rely  upon  my  recollection  of  it.  Remember,  besides,  that  you 
are  so  odious  to  your  countrymen,  that  one  or  other  of  them 
may  be  expected  at  any  moment  to  terminate  your  sinful  life, 
and  thus  render  superfluous  direct  interference  on  my  part  to 
remove  you  whither  you  will  receive  your  just  reward." 

"  You  do  not  take  me  for  a  fool,  devil,  do  you  ?" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  283 

"  '  Ou  the  contrary'  (as  your  countrymau  said  when  asked 
if  he  sang),  I  take  you  for  a rogue." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  Ixse  losing  time.  You  remember  our 
treaty.     You  are  to  perform  one  more  task  at  my  desire.'' 

The  devil  nodded  his  head  in  acquiescence,  beating  a  tattoo 
the  while. 

''  Then,"  said  the  Colonel,  rising,  "  go  make  ropes  of  the 
sands  of  the  sea." 

The  devil  stood  aghast.     "  It  is  impossible  !"  cried  he. 

"Then  go  and  do  it,"  said  the  Colonel.  "At  all  events, 
quit  my  house,"  and  taking  him  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  he 
kicked  him  down  stairs. 

The  Colonel  lived  some  time  after  this  interview ;  but  one 
unlucky  day,  as  the  reader  has  seen,  he  was  shot  in  his  sedan 
chair,  and  was,  as  all  the  world  uncharitably  believed,  imme- 
diately afterwards  called  upon  by  his  creditor  to  book-up. 

La  Fontaine,  in  his  "  Chose  Impossible,"  and  M.  Gr.  Lewis, 
M.  P.  ("  Every  one  knows  little  Matt's  an  M.  P."),  in  one  of 
his  "  Tales  of  Wonder"  (in  a  story  of  a  Lady  and  a  faithful 
Page),  borrow  this  incident  of  Luttrell  the  Traitor's  life;  which 
facts,  by  all  persons  of  common  sense,  will  be  held  to  prove  the 
correctness  of  the  tradition. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ; 
Sleek-headed  men — and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights. 

Julius  Caesar. 

HENRY  LAWES  LUTTRELL,  Earl  of  Carhampton,  was 
cMti/  and  mean  in  appearance,  but  such  was  not  his  own 
belief.  He  imagined,  on  the  contrary,  that  his  rank  and  qua- 
lity could  be  penetrated  under  the  most  ordinary  garb.  Having 
passed  and  repassed  several  times  one  day  before  a  grenadier 
of  a  Highland  regiment  on  guard  at  the  principal  entrance  of 
Dublin  Castle,  without  notice  or  salute  from  him,  he  addressed 
the  soldier  angrily,  forgetting  that  he  was  himself  "in  Mufti," 
and  demanded  the  reason  for  his  neglect.  "Wha  are  ye, 
mon  ?"   asked  the  soldier. 


284  THE   IRISH 

"The  Commander-in-chief,"  replied  his  Lordship.  (Such 
w^s  the  rank  then  assumed  by  the  Commander  of  the  Forces 
in  Ireland.) 

"Are  you  by  gom !  ye've  a  d d  bra  birth  on  it  then — 

toorn  aboot,  luon,  till  I  salute  ye." 

Lord  Carhampton  was  not  the  soldier's  friend — in  fact,  he 
was  a  bad  fellow  in  all  the  relations  of  life.  The  conspiracy 
of  the  United  L-ishraen  called  into  action  all  the  bad  passions 
engendered  in  his  bosom  by  the  hatred  of  his  name  expressed 
by  his  countrymen  of  all  ranks  whenever  reference  to  it  was 
made,  and  he  displayed  the  eifect  in  every  way  possible  to  him. 
In  the  feeling  of  detestation  for  him  the  soldiers  of  the  Irish 
Militia  participated,  adding  to  their  repugnance  for  his  descent, 
dislike  of  his  politics  and  resentment  for  his  harshness  as  Com- 
mander-in-chief. A  plot  against  his  life  was  discovered  in  one 
of  the  militia  regiments  (I  think  it  was  the  Kildare)  quartered 
in  Dublin  in  1797.  Two  of  the  soldiers  charged  with  partici- 
pation in  it  were  brought  to  trial  for  it,  found  guilty,  and  shot 
pursuant  to  sentence  in  the  Phoenix  Park. 

I  remember  the  occurrence  well,  because  of  a  wonderful 
appearance  following  their  execution,  and  of  which  I  heard  on 
the  evening  of  the  same  day,  from  a  person  who  had  the  ac- 
count from  an  "  e^e-ivitness."  The  sufferers  were  named  Dunne 
and  Carthy.  "Their  bodies  had  no  sooner  touched  the  earth 
after  the  fatal  volley,"  said  the  informant,  "than  two  doves 
were  seen  to  rise  from  them  and  soar  into  the  heavens." 

Whether  true  or  not,  I  record  the  story  only  as  a  proof  of 
the  disposition  of  the  popular  mind  at  that  period,  in  regard 
to  Lord  Carhampton,  and  which  associated  something  super- 
natural with  their  enmity  towards  him. 

Brave  though  he  were.  Lord  Carhampton  was  capable  of 
the  basest  dissimulation  to  lure  victims,  and  of  the  most  con- 
temptible meanness.  He  would  steal  out  from  his  ofl&cial  resi- 
dence (the  Royal  Hospital  at  Kilmainham)  after  nightfall,  and 
endeavour  to  surprise  some  of  the  sentinels  off  their  guard,  or 
fast  asleep.  For  his  espionnage  he  was  once  nearly  paying 
dearly,  and  with  this  incident  I  shall  close  my  references  to 
him. 

A  near  relative  of  mine  was  deeply  compromised  in  the 
conspiracy  of  the  United  Irishmen,  and  active,  especially,  like 
Henry  MacCracken,  in  seducing  the  soldiery  from  their  alle- 
giance.    He  succeeded  to  a  certain  extent,  it  would  appear, 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  285 

for  he  was  visited  by  several  soldiers  and  sub-officers  in  the 
course  of  each  day. 

Among  other  persons  of  that  description,  I  recollect  to  have 
seen  a  soldier  of  the  Fraser  Fencibles  come  to  our  house. 
After  other  matters  had  been  disposed  of,  he  said:  ''I  was 
near  giving  the  old  one  his  due  last  night." 

''Who?"  asked  my  relative. 

'^Carhampton.  You  know  his  habit  of  endeavouring  to 
catch  the  sentinels  on  duty  about  the  Hospital  napping.  I 
was  on  guard  last  night  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  grounds 
which  overlook  the  road  towards  Blanchardstown ;  and  had 
not  been  long  posted  when  I  heard  a  cautious  tread  approach 
my  post.  'This  is  he,'  said  I  to  myself,  and  I  silently  cocked 
my  musket.  I  listened,  and  heard  the  same  stealthy  step  ap- 
proach, occasionally  crushing  the  brushwood.  My  eye  was 
fixed  upon  the  spot  whence  the  noise  proceeded.  It  still  ad- 
vanced. I  brought  my  piece  to  the  recover,  my  eye  straining 
out  of  my  head.  Presently  my  hair  stood  on  end,  for  I  saw 
an  object  moving  towards  me.  My  heart  beat,  but  my  hand 
was  firm.  'He  shall  have  it,'  said  I,  'but  I  must  not  violate 
the  law.'  At  the  moment  when  I  expected  the  General  would 
pounce  upon  me,  I  cried :  '  Wha  goes  there  ?'  No  reply. 
'  Wha  goes  there,  a  second  time  ?'  Still  no  answer.  '  Wha 
goes  there,  a  third  time  V  said  I,  bringing  Bess  to  the  present, 
my  finger  on  the  trigger,  when  the  moon  shone  full  on  the 
pale  face  of  a  Hereford  cow,  looking  at  me  as  from  a  window, 
and  quietly  licking  her  lips." 

"You  had  a  narrow  escape  of  committing  a  homicide,  which 
might  have  terminated  fatally  for  yourself,"  said  my  relative. 

"I  had  not  much  fear  of  that.  I  bore  in  mind  the  con- 
duct of  my  father  in  the  American  war  in  nearly  similar  cir- 
cumstances. He  was  a  Highlander,  and  left  Scotland  with 
our  laird,  who  had  gotten  a  company  in  the  42d.  One  night, 
some  time  before  Saratoga,  he  was  placed  as  a  sentry  at  an  ad- 
vanced post  in  the  bush,  at  which,  seven  nights  in  succession, 
one  of  our  men  had  been  killed  and  scalped.  He  demurred, 
but  the  corporal  was  inflexible.  'Then  give  me  the  power  to 
fire  whenever  I  may  see  reason,'  said  my  father,  who  was  as 
wary  as  he  was  brave.  This  was  acceded  to,  and  the  corporal 
retired. 

"  My  father  instantly  set  about  preparations  to  insure  hia 
safety.     Ho  found  himself  stationed   within   a  small   circle, 


286  THE   IRISH 

surrounded,  except  at  one  point,  whence  opened  a  path,  by 
bi'usliwood.  'That's  not  where  the  danger  lies/  thought  he; 
'it  is  too  much  exposed.'  Placing  himself  in  the  centre, 
whence  he  could  command  it,  however,  his  eye  passed  round 
the  position.  After  this  examination  he  cocked  his  musket 
and  commenced  marching  slowly — not  round  the  vacant  spot, 
but  across  it,  backwards  and  forwards,  always  resting  himself 
in  the  middle  of  the  space.  He  had  passed  half  an  hour  in 
this  way  amidst  profound  silence,  when  he  thought  he  heard 
a  rustling  of  branches.  He  fixed  his  eye  upon  the  spot 
whence  the  supposed  noise  came,  but  all  was  silent,  and  con- 
tinued so  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  during  which  time  he 
made  no  movement,  and  uttered  no  sound.  He  was  just  about 
resuming  his  walk  when  the  noise  again  struck  upon  his  ear ; 
but  this  time  quite  close  to  him.  Bringing  his  gun,  as  I  did 
last  night,  to  the  recover,  he  cried  :  '  Wha  goes  there  V  No 
answer.  Presently,  however,  a  huge  hog  issued  slowly  from 
the  covert,  browsing  and  munching.  My  father's  gaze  was 
upon  him,  but  instead  of  approaching  him,  the  animal  skirted 
the  enclosure,  plucking  at  the  briars,  and  grunting  all  the  way. 
This  did  not,  however,  throw  my  father  off  his  guard.  His 
eye  followed  the  hog,  he  himself  holding  his  breath,  turning 
as  on  a  pivot.  Insensibly  the  invader  appeared  to  have  quitted 
the  edge  of  the  enclosure,  and  to  approach  him,  making  also 
a  change  in  his  form,  as  my  father  thought.  Now  quite  close 
to  him  the  animal  seemed  to  convert  himself  into  a  ball,  when 
my  father,  coming  to  the  present,  fired.  A  shriek  from  the 
hog  and  a  roll  followed,  and  then  he  lay  still.  Drawing  back 
a  step,  my  father  reloaded,  and  was  about  to  advance  upon  his 
visiter,  now  apparently  motionless,  when  the  corporal  and  the 
picquet-guard  arrived. 

"  '  Why  have  you  fired  ?'  asked  the  corporal. 

"  'Because  I  feared  a  surprise.' 

"  '  From  whom  ?' 

" '  From  him  who  lies  yonder,'  pointing  to  the  hog. 

"  A  roar  of  laughter  burst  from  the  guard,  which  the  cor- 
poral reproved,  and  then  said  to  my  father :  '  This  is  a  serious 
matter.  A  false  alarm.  Your  cowardice  has  unmanned  you, 
and  will  I  fear  have  brought  you  to  the  halberts  at  least. 
Here,  McKenzie,  take  his  place.     Fall  in.     March.' 

'"Hold,  corporal,'  said  my  father.  'Examine  that  fellow 
before  you  go.' 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  287 

"  'That's  only  reasonable,'  said  the  corporal ;  'besides,  my 
lads,  a  leg  of  pork  won't  be  a  bad  addition  to  our  morning 
meal.* 

"  They  approached  the  motionless  object,  with  a  view  to 
seize  it,  when,  like  the  diamond  hunters  that  Siridbad  (he  Sailor 
speaks  of,  the  hog's  skin  burst,  and  a  red  Indian,  with  toma- 
hawk in  hand,  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  made  a  dash  at  the 
thicket,  but  fell  before  he  could  reach  it,  shot  through  the 
heart  by  ^IcKeuzie. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

"  So  tbey  have  made  McC a  Baron  of  the  Exchequer,"  said  a  brother 

barrister  to  the  late  kind  and  witty  John  Parsons,  one  day  in  the  autumn 
of  1S03.     "I  wonder  what  sort  of  judge  he  will  make — eh,  Parsons?" 

"Indeed,  I  think,"  replied  John — "that  he  will  administer  j?!rfi]/ferc)!t 
justice." 

Extract  from  my  Common-iilace  Book. 

Gold,  from  law,  can  take  out  the  sting. 

Gav. 

IX  the  preceding  pages  I  had  a  view  to  show,  by  exemplifi- 
cation, how  conquest,  and  its  concomitant  effects  upon 
unreflecting  minds,  operated  in  turning  the  beautiful  sister 
Ireland  of  Great  Britain  into  a  grand  arena  for  the  display 
of  pride,  oppression,  injustice,  tyranny,  riot,  libertinism,  and 
demoralizing  extravagance,  in  nearly  every  circle  and  class, 
from  the  castle,  and  the  senate,  and  their  aristocratic  imitators, 
to  the  humblest  position  in  the  social  scale.  How  was  it  in 
the  Palais  de  Justice,  in  the  mean  while  ?  Were  the  judges  of 
the  land  pure  and  unsuspected  ?  Were  the  laws,  such  as  they 
found  them,  honestly  administered,  and  consequently  respect- 
ed ?  Were  the  sheriffs  unprejudiced  and  incorruptible  ?  Were 
the  jurors  fairly,  freely,  and  impartially  convened,  and  were 
their  verdicts  always  irrespective  of  the  person  and  of  the  re- 
ligious professions  of  the  litigant,  or  accused  ? 

The  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  despised  and  beaten 
Jacobites — (the  word  always  sets  me  in  a  rage — why  should  the 
Irish  have  been  Jacobites  ? 

What  was  James  to  thera,  or  they  to  James, 
That  they  should  fight  and  beg  for  him?) 


288  THE   IRISH 

— The  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  crushed  and  conquered 
party  was,  I  say,  that  the  victors  were  not,  in  their  case,  a  whit 
more  considerate,  more  moderate — less  brutal,  cruel,  overbear- 
ing, and  unjust,  than  a  successful  soldiery,  and  the  host  of 
plunderers  and  Assonuneurs  that  always  follows  close  upon  the 
heels  of  a  victorious  army,  have  ever  been.  The  conquered 
party  presumed  not  to  court  distinction — place — employment. 
They  would  not  become  religious  renegades,  and  were  not, 
therefore,  they  well  knew,  eligible  to  such  advantages.  Inca- 
pacitated to  pretend,  they  aspired  not  to  even  the  humblest 
situation  connected  with  the  administration  of  the  laws.  They 
only  supplicated  impartial  justice — under  the  cruel  code  that 
obtained — protection,  and  a  little  money.  How  much  of  jus- 
tice, protection,  and  pity  was  accorded  to  them  before  the  time 
to  which  I  have  brought  my  reminiscences  may,  I  would  fain 
hope,  be  gathered  from  the  facts  I  have  thrown  together. 
With  the  trials  of  Father  Sheehy,  and  other  imputed  crimi- 
nals, about  the  year  1760,  the  world  is  familiar.  I  do  not 
propose  referring  to  a  period  so  remote.  I  only  mean  to  lay 
before  my  readers  a  few  specimens  of  the  manner  in  which,  in 
the  latter  half  of  the  last  century,  British  laws  were  adminis- 
tered in  Ireland,  a  period  when,  it  cannot  be  denied,  some 
progress  towards  amelioration  in  government,  in  legislation, 
and  in  the  administration  of  the  laws,  had  been  made.  From 
these  the  reader  will  deduce  his  own  conclusion  respecting 
Irish  courts  of  justice,  judges,  sheriffs,  lawyers,  crime,  and 
criminals,  in  the  quarter  of  a  century  preceding  the  year 
1792. 

Circumstances,  which  it  is  not  necessary  that  I  here  men- 
tion, rendered  me  at  an  early  period  of  my  life — that  is,  in 
the  autumn  of  1803,  and  up  to  March,  1805 — a  visiter  (in 
the  character  of  confidential  messenger)  of  the  State  prisoners 
confined  in  Newgate,  Dublin,  charged,  in  many  cases  unjustly, 
with  compliciU  in  the  insurrection  of  23d  July  (1803).  The 
purpose  which  at  first  led  me  thither  did  not  require  that  I 
continued  my  visits,  but  for  a  young  person  with  much  leisure 
there  was  a  charm  in  the  pursuit  which  led  me  to  repeat  them 
as  often  as  I  could,  with  decency.  To  the  unhappy  inmates 
on  '•  the  State  side"  I  was  ever  welcome,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed. With  one  of  them,  the  late  Mr.  Bernard  Coile,  I  be- 
came a  special  favourite,  for  among  other  reasons  the  avidity 
with  which  I  swallowed  the  very  interesting  narrative  of  his 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  289 

chequered  life,  and — not ''  Conger  and  Fennel" — but  (he  often 
kept  me  to  dine  with  him)  a  list  of  some  three  or  four-and- 
twenty  patriotic  toasts.  Often,  towards  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  a  fellow-prisoner  of  his,  as  he  was  termed,  but  as  I 
now  firmly  believe  an  agent  of  the  government  (and  even  the 
betra3'er  of  Robert  Emmet),  incarcerated  for  the  purpose  of 
acquiring  and  betraying  the  knowledge  of  the  proceedings  of 

the  prisoners  and  their  friends — often,  I  say,  would 

enter  Mr.  Coile's  room  on  those  occasions,  and  with  an  air  of 
gayety  ask  :  ''  Well,  young ,  why  are  you  here  so  late  ?" 

"  I  kopt  the  young  citizen,"  Mr.  Coile  would  reply ;  ''  I 
kapt  the  young  citizen,  to  drink  all  the  toasts." 

"  Where  in  the  list  are  you  now  ?"  would  ask  of  me. 

"At  the  imports,  sir." 

"  The  imports  only !  By you  will  be  tipsy  before  you 

arrive  at  the  exports."* 

From  these  facts  it  will  be  seen  that,  if  there  were  arbi- 
trary imprisonments  in  those  days,  and  Mr.  Coile  was  in  reality 
a  victim  of  that  class,  prison  discipline  was  not  enforced  with 
severity. 

There  was  at  the  period  of  my  visits  to  Newgate,  in  1803, 
and  had  been  for  several  years  previously,  a  prisoner,  totally 
unconnected  with  politics,  about  whom  there  was  a  mystery 
which  for  a  cousidei'able  period  I  was  unable  to  penetrate. 
With  this  person,  who  was  lodged  in  an  upper  part  of  the  pri- 
son, Mr.  Coile  was  more  intimate  than  were  any  other  of  the 
political  prisoners.  He  visited  the  "  mysterious,"  who,  in  a 
few  instances  to  my  knowledge,  returned  the  favour ;  but  never 
entered  the  apartment  of  any  of  Coile's  companions  in  misfor- 
tune. Once  or  twice  I  found  him  in  Mr.  Coile's  room ;  upon 
which  he  would  immediately  retreat  and  ascend  to  his  own  cell, 
as  he  called  it.  Although  dressed  with  the  disregard  to  appear- 
ance observable  in  prisoners  generally,  this  person  had  obvi- 
ously belonged  to  the  class  of  gentlemen.  All  that  I  was  for 
some  time  allowed  by  Mr.  Coile  to  know  about  him  was,  that 
his  name  was  Nasboro'. 

With  all  my  faith  in  Barney  Coile,  I  could  not  accept  his 
pronunciation  of  the  name,  however ;  for  I  had  observed  in 

*  The  opening  toast  was  always  : — 

"The  imports  of  Ireland — Her  friends,  the  first." 

The  concluding  one — (of  four-and-twcnty  !) 

"  The  exports  of  Ireland — Her  enemies,  the  first." 

13 


290  THE    IRISH 

him  a  tendency  to  alter  the  sound  of  certain  vowels.  There- 
fore, with  all  the  indifference  that  I  ought  to  have  felt  on  the 
subject,  I  did  not  rest  until  I  discovered  that  Nasboro'  was,  as 
I  suspected,  a  misnomer. 

An  arbitrary  change  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  letter  A 
in  a  proper  name,  and  of  the  letter  E  in  such  words  as  excellent 
and  perpetual,  which  in  his  mouth  became  axcellent  and 
parpatual,  was  one  of  Mr.  Coile's  peculiarities.  It  rendered 
me,  as  I  have  just  said,  doubtful  of  the  orthography  of  the 
name  of  his  mysterious  fellow-prisoner.  He  had,  in  fact, 
rendered  Knaresborough,  Nasboro' — the  former  being  the  name 
of  the  person  in  question.  This  provincial  peculiarity  of  pro- 
nunciation, together  with  his  political  prepossessions,  accom- 
panied Bernard  Coile  to  the  grave.  He  would  as  soon  have 
thought  of  rescinding  the  one  as  the  other. 

The  mysterious  prisoner,  Mr.  Fitz-Patrick  Knaresborough, 
was  known  familiarly  in  his  own  county,  Kilkenny,  as  Fitzy 
Cranesberry  (a  pei'version  of  the  agent's  less  justifiable  even 
than  that  efifected  by  Bernard  Coile).  He  was,  before  becoming 
the  inmate  of  a  jail,  a  young  man  of  considerable  fortune,  of 
excellent  education,  and  highly  respectable  family.  It  is 
necessary,  however,  that — 

"  I  trace  back  the  time 
To  a  far  distant  date." 

Many  years  previously  to  the  manhood  of  Mr.  Knares- 
borough, three  young  ladies,  sisters,  inhabitants  of  the  county 
of  Kilkenny,  were  one  day  seized  and  forcibly  carried  ofiF  by 
three  young  men  of  fortune  of  the  adjoining  county  of  Car- 
low.  The  outrage  caused  an  instantaneous  and  a  vast  sensation 
in  the  two  counties,  Carlow  and  Kilkenny.  The  ravishers  and 
their  victims  were  pursued  and  overtaken.  The  young  ladies 
were  restored  to  their  friends,  and  the  offenders  were  com- 
mitted to  prison,  were  brought  to  trial,  and  were  hanged  in 
Carlow. 

The  recollection  of  these  lamentable  occurrences  was  for- 
cibly brought  to  mind  by  this  Mr.  Fitz-Patrick  Knaresborough, 
who  somewhere  about  the  year  1790,  I  believe,  played  the 
return  match  of  the  three  unhappy  young  men,  just  alluded  to, 
by  carrying  off  from  their  county  a  young  lady  of  considerable 
personal  attractions  and  fortune.  As  in  the  former  case,  im- 
mediate pursuit  of  the  ravisher  took  place.   He  was  overtaken, 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  291 

his  victim  was  wrested  from  him,  and  restored  to  her  fjimily; 
but  Knaresborough  escaped. 

A  reward  was  offered  for  his  apprehension,  but  without 
effect.  At  the  approach  of  the  following  assizes,  however,  he 
gave  notice  in  the  usual  way  that  he  would  surrender  and 
abide  his  trial.  He  kept  his  word,  and  repaired  to  the  town 
of  Carlow  on  horseback  the  day  before  that  appointed  for  the 
commencement  of  the  assizes.  When  near  to  Carlow  he  over- 
took a  post-chaise,  into  which  he  looked  as  he  passed,  and 
beheld  in  it  the  young  lady  he  had  carried  off.  So  confident 
was  he  of  acquittal,  and  so  lightly  did  he  regard  his  crime 
(abduction  only,  I  believe),  that  he  spoke  to  and  joked  with 
her.  They  parted,  and  he,  proceeding  to  the  jail  of  Carlow, 
gave  himself  up  as  a  prisoner  that  night. 

Bills  of  indictment  were  in  the  customary  form  sent  up  to 
the  grand  jury  against  him  next  day,  and  were  duly  found. 
He  was  arraigned  upon  them,  and  put  upon  his  trial.  The 
young  lady  appeared,  and  proved  the  case  against  him.  This 
unexpected  circumstance  changed  his  air  of  gayety  into  one  of 
anxiety,  and  his  astonishment  was  completed  by  his  being  con- 
victed and  sentenced  to  death. 

His  family  and  friends  participated  in  his  surprise  and 
alarm.  They  had  considerable  interest  in  high  quarters,  upon 
which  they  thought  they  might  rely  for  a  reversal  or  commu- 
tation of  the  sentence,  and  they  resolved  to  omit  no  step  to 
insure  his  safety.  Thus  they  sought  the  concurrence  of  the 
jury  by  whom  he  had  been  convicted  in  an  application  to 
government  for  mercy  in  his  favour,  but  found  them  inexor- 
able. They  discovered  further,  that  the  finding  "  guilty"  had 
resulted  not  so  much  from  the  view  of  the  evidence  taken 
by  the  jury,  or  their  horror  for  the  crime  proved,  as  from  a 
determination  to  retort  upon  Kilkenny  the  conviction  and 
execution  of  the  three  Carlow  gentlemen  for  the  similar  offence 
above  mentioned. 

Defeated  in  this  quarter,  Knaresborough's  friends  resorted 
to  other  expedients  to  save  him  from  the  scaffold.  Among 
other  proceedings  was  a  memorial  to  the  Judge  by  whom  their 
friend  had  been  tried  and  sentenced,  to  recommend  him  to 
mercy ;  and  they  accompanied  it  by  a  sum  of  six  hundred 
pounds.*     The  application  was  successful.     The  money  was 

*  I  suppress  this  man's  name.     Its  initial  and  final  letters  wero  B 1 


292  THE    IRISH 

accepted.  The  Judge  reported  favourably,  and  the  sentence 
of  death  was  changed  to  one  of  transportation  for  life. 

Even  this  sentence  was  further  commuted,  or  at  least  the 
execution  of  it  postponed.  It  was  accompanied,  however,  by 
a  condition  of  a  somewhat  painful  kind,  namely,  that  Knares- 
borough  should  be  brought  into  Court  at  every  assizes  for  the 
county,  or  Commission  of  Oyer  and  Terminer  for  the  town 
or  city,  in  the  prison  of  which  he  should  happen  to  be  con- 
fined ;  but  as  a  favour  he  was  transmitted  to  Dublin  to  undergo 
his  punishment  at  Newgate. 

During  several  years  the  unhappy  man  submitted  without 
a  murmur  to  the  required  exhibition  of  himself  in  court,  but 
at  length  he  protested  against  being  so  paraded,  and  refused 
to  obey  or  acquiesce  iu  the  summons  directed  to  the  jailor  to 
produce  his  person  before  the  Judges  in  commission.  Lord 
Norbury  happened  to  preside  over  the  commission  when 
Knaresborough's  refusal  to  appear  in  court  was  announced. 
(How  injudicious  Knaresborough  was  to  choose  such  an  occa- 
sion for  the  display  of  contumacy  !)  When  informed  that 
Knaresborough  was  determined  to  yield  only  to  force  in  being 
produced  in  court,  the  facetious  Judge  said  :  '"  De  gustibus 
non  est  disputandum' — let  the  original  sentence  be  executed." 

The  alternative  was  not,  however,  to  Knai-esborough's 
taste;  and  therefore,  when  the  Judge's  decision  was  commu- 
nicated to  him,  he  submitted  at  once  to  the  order  for  his  pro- 
duction in  court,  and  was  led  thither. 

Thenceforward  for  a  considerable  time  the  unfortunate 
Knaresborough  was  "  trotted  out"  at  each  Commission  Court, 
but  the  form  was,  at  length,  discontinued,  by  order  of  govern- 
ment.    I  know  that  he  was  liberated,  but  forget  at  what  date. 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  293 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

No  ceremony  that  to  great  ones  'longs, 
Not  the  king's  crown,  nor  the  deputed  sword, 
The  marshal's  truncheon,  nor  the  judge's  robe. 
Become  them  with  one  half  so  good  a  grace 
As  mercy  does. 

Measure  for  Ifeasure. 

I  BELIEVE  it  was  of  the  Judge  mentioned  in  the  last  chap- 
ter that  an  appallingly  barbarous  saying  lived  in  the 
memory  of  the  old  inhabitants  of  Dublin  in  my  youth,  and 
barbarous  it  was  in  every  sense.  "  I  shall  make  a  farthing 
candle  watch  a  purse  of  gold  in  the  streets  of  Dublin,"  said 
he,  being  then  Recorder.  How  a  fitrthing  candle  could  be 
made  to  perform  such  a  function  will  appear  puzzling  to  my 
readers.  Let  them  cease  cudgelling  their  brains,  however. 
His  Lordship  meant  to  say  (and  he  carried  out  his  project  to 
its  fullest  extent)  :  ''  I  shall  be  so  prompt  and  so  extreme  in 
my  punishment  of  crime,  that  a  purse  of  gold  left  in  the  open 
street,  and  obseiTable  by  a  light  placed  by  the  side  of  it,  shall 
be  respected  and  remain  untouched." 

The  advocates  of  the  expediency  of  repealing  capital 
punishment  for  any  other  crimes  than  murder  (for  at  that 
point  most  reformers  draw  up)  might  derive  support  from  the 
results  of  this  inexorable  man's  system.  He  proposed  to 
deter  from  the  commission  of  theft,  while  he  only  begat  detes- 
tation of  the  laws.  Scarcely  a  victim  went  to  the  scaffold 
through  his  agency  who  was  not  followed  by  public  commisera- 
tion, and  imprecations  on  the  head  of  his  Judge,  in  whose 
undue  severity  all  recollection  of  the  culprit's  guilt  was  almost 
forgotten. 

It  was  this  wretch  who  first  invented  or  brought  into  prac- 
tice the  suiumary  execution  of  a  criminal  immediately  upon 
conviction  :  the  process  was  termed  transferring  from  the  court 
to  the  scaffold.  Of  the  working  of  his  system,  I  shall  here 
give  one  example,  communicated  to  me  by  a  person  of  some 


294  THE    IRISH 

celebrity  in  Dublin,  fifty  years  ago — Mr.  Daniel  Muley,  in 
whose  house  (as  already  mentioned)  the  unfortunate  Captain 
Thomas  Russell  was  arrested  in  the  autumn  of  1803. 

A  country  lad  of  decent  family  arrived  in  Dublin  one  day 
on  business.  This  concluded,  he  visited  his  sister,  who  was 
servant  of  a  shop-keeper  living  in  Parliament  Street.  She  was 
much  esteemed  by  her  employers,  and  was  told  by  her  mistress 
to  keep  the  young  man  in  the  house  during  his  stay.  After 
breakfast  he  took  leave  of  his  sister,  saying  he  would  go  and 
see  the  sights,  and  would  be  back  to  dinner  at  two  o'clock. 
He  turned  towards  Capel  Street,  but  made  a  long  halt  on 
Essex  Bridge,  admiring  the  ships,  which  then  and  in  my  own 
memory  came  up  close  to  it.  (Carlisle  Bridge  was  not  yet 
built.)  Having  satisfied  his  curiosity  in  that  respect,  he  pur- 
sued his  way  up  Capel  Street,  turned  by  chance  into  Little 
Britain  Street,  and  thence  into  Green  Street,  in  which  the 
sessions,  or  a  commission  was  then  sitting  for  the  trial  of  pri- 
soners, presided  over  by  the  functionary  to  whom  I  have  just 
referred.  The  lad  strolled  into  the  court,  and  was  listening 
with  open  mouth  to  the  evidence  and  the  verdict  of  the  jury 
in  a  case  before  the  Court,  when  he  was  suddenly  collared  by 
a  man,  who  exclaimed  :  "  This  is  another  of  them  !"  The 
Judge  demanded  why  the  Court  was  disturbed,  and  learned 
that  a  highwayman  had  just  been  discovered  and  seized. 
"  Keep  him  over  for  a  moment,"  said  his  Lordship,  who,  put- 
ting on  the  black  cap,  sentenced  a  wretched  criminal  just  found 
guilty  to  be  hanged.  "Remove  him,"  added  he,  "  and  place 
this  highwayman  at  the  bar;"  which  was  done. 

The  poor  lad  was  thrust  into  the  dock ;  a  bill  of  indictment 
was  instantly  prepared,  and  the  prosecutor  accompanied  it 
before  the  grand  jury,  who  asked  him  some  questions,  mere 
matters  of  course,  and  found  a  true  bill  for  robbery  against  the 
young  man,  who  was  put  upon  his  trial  forthwith.  The  evi- 
dence was  home  and  clear.  It  was  that  of  the  man  who  had 
seized  the  prisoner  in  court,  and  who  gave  a  round,  unvar- 
nished, and  well-connected  statement  of  the  transaction.  In 
vain  did  the  poor  fellow  declare  his  innocence,  and  require  that 
his  sister  and  her  master  (who  knew  him  to  be  of  respectable, 
however  humble,  parentage)  should  be  sent  for  and  examined. 
The  Judge  was  deaf  to  his  entreaty  and  bullied  him,  and 
charged  the  jury  to  return  a  verdict  of  "  guilty."  This  was 
done.     The  black  cap  was  again  donned,  and  the  new  convict 


ABROAD  AND   AT   HOME.  295 

sentenced  to  death,  and  to  the  instant  infliction  of  it,  in  com- 
pau}-  -with  his  predecessor  at  the  bar. 

At  that  period  capital  sentences  were  carried  into  execu- 
tion on  a  gibbet  erected  a  little  behind  the  spot  on  which  the 
left  hand  corner  houses  of  Fitzwilliam  Street  and  Baggot 
Street  now  stand,  as  you  proceed  towards  the  canal  bridge.  I 
remember  a  pool  of  water  then  filling  the  remains,  I  think,  of 
an  excavation  called  the  Gallows  Quarry ;  but  the  place  on 
which  the  executions  were  done  was  known  as  Gallows  Green, 
called,  from  its  vicinity  to  it,  but  improperly,  Stephen's  Green, 
from  which  it  was  distant  several  hundred  yards.  The  sad 
procession  in  the  present  case  proceeded  from  the  Sessions 
House  down  Capel  Street,  and  had  crossed  Essex  Bridge. 
3Iuch  noise  preceded  and  accompanied  it,  and  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  servants  in  the  house  in  which  the  sister  of 
the  poor  young  man  of  whom  I  speak  resided.  The  cook  said 
to  her :  "  Come  up,  Mary,  and  see  the  men  going  to  be 
hanged."  They  ascended  to  an  upper  story,  and  had  just 
looked  out  of  the  window  as  the  cart  in  which  the  two  culprits 
were,  reached  the  house.  The  boy  recognised  his  sister  at  the 
window,  and  shrieked  out  to  her.  Frantic  at  the  apparition 
of  her  brother  going  to  death,  she  ran  down  to  her  master  and 
besought  his  interference.  He  promised  it;  seized  his  hat, 
and  proceeded  to  interest  some  person  of  consequence  for  the 
prisoner.  An  immediate  application  at  the  Castle  produced 
an  order  for  the  suspension  of  the  execution,  but  before  the 
respite  arrived  the  men  were  dead. 

This  occurrence  provoked  an  outbreak  of  public  indigna- 
tion loud  and  vehement  on  that  Judge's  practice  of  sending  a 
man  before  his  Creator 

"With  all  his  crimes  broad  blown,  as  flush  as  May, 
And  how  his  audit  stands,  who  knows,  save  Heaven." 


296  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

But  which  aro  the  offenders  that  are  to  bo  examined?     Let  them  come 
before  Master  Constable. 

Much  Ado  about  N^othing. 

MANY  years  after  tlie  period  of  which  I  have  been  lately 
speaking,  I  became  once  more  a  visiter  of  a  political  pri- 
soner in  His  Majesty's  jail  of  Newgate,  Dublin — that  is,  in 
the  year  1815  or  1S16.  I  always  found  on  entering,  a  group 
of  three  persons  sitting  at  the  fire  in  the  hall — hatch  is,  I  be- 
lieve, the  professional  name  of  this  particular  spot.  These 
were  Walter  Cox  (the  prisoner  I  had  come  to  visit),  William 
MacDowell  (the  jailor),  and  a  "fat  old  man — a  tun  of  man,  a 
trunk  of  humours,  a  reverend  vice,  a  gray  iniquity,  a  father 
ruffian,  a  vanity  in  years."  The  name  of  this  person  was 
Robert  Moore,  or,  as  possibly  he  is  still  remembered  by  the 
abbreviation,  Bob  Moore. 

Bob  Moore  was  by  birth,  education,  and  profession,  a  gentle- 
man. He  had  been,  I  was  told,  handsome ;  but  forty  or  fifty 
years  spent  in  indulgence  in  many  species  of  dissipation  and 
irregularity,  had  brought  him  to  the  condition  I  have  sought  to 
indicate  in  the  garbled  quotation  from  Prince  Hal  just  given. 
Being  a  barrister,  and  highly  connected,  he  was  qualified  for, 
and  could  almost  command  any  place  in  court;  and  being  gifted 
with  impudence  to  an  extent  never  surpassed,  and  being  a  hon 
vivant,  a  buck,  a  rake,  and  unquestionably  one  of  the  wittiest 
men  of  his  day,  he  became  the  favourite  with  an  ornament  of 
the  bench,  (was  he  not  a  Chief  Justice  ?)  through  whom  he 
obtained  appointments  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  which, 
when  his  prodigality  compelled  him  ultimately  to  transfer  it 
to  Mr.  John  Pollock,  realized  for  this  latter  gentleman,  I  am 
told,  eight-and-twenty  thousand  poixnds  per  annum. 

My  lords  and  gentlemen  of  the  Law  Fees  Inquiry  Commis- 
sion, you  call  out, 

'•  Lies  !  lies!  lies  ! 
I  tell  you,  roaring  infidels,  'tis  true  !" 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  297 

I  never  heard  the  numerous  employments  in  question  esti- 
mated at  a  lesser  annual  value.  One  of  those  offices  was  that 
of  registrar  to  his  learned  chief.  Is  not  the  situation  called 
^'  associate"  in  the  English  courts  ? 

In  the  performance  of  his  functions  of  registrar,  Bob 
Moore,  in  the  full  costume  of  a  barrister,  sat  immediately 
under  the  bench,  whence  he  communicated  in  a  whisper  with 
his  chief,  or  kept  him  perpetually  on  the  broad  grin  by  his 
soliloquies  and  his  running  commentaries  on  the  speeches  of 
counsel,  or  on  the  testimony  of  witnesses.  His  learned  chief 
sometimes  (as  was  evident  from  the  protrusion  of  Bob's  tongue 
on  one  side  of  his  mouth)  remonstrated  with,  or  reproved  him ; 
but  these  were  rare  exercises  of  authority,  and  totally  useless. 
Remarking  Bob's  habitual  inattention  to  punctilio  and  deco- 
rum, his  Lordship  ventured  in  a  few  instances  to  desire  amend- 
ment.    With  what  effect,  I  shall  give  two  examples. 

His  learned  chief  presided  on  one  occasion  over  the  Com- 
mission Court,  the  counterpart  of  the  Old  Bailey  Court  of 
London.  Bob's  duty,  in  one  or  other  of  his  numerous  cha- 
racters, was  to  read  the  indictments  to  the  prisoners  placed  at 
the  bar,  and  to  call  upon  them  to  plead.  He  commenced 
generally  by  a  half-comic  stare  at  the  wretch  about  to  be  tried, 
and  by  a  gesture  conveyed  a  prediction  of  his  fate.  This 
pleasantry  always  produced  a  murmur  of  applause  among  the 
barristers  and  the  auditory.  Bob  would  then  articulate  that 
"  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  stood  indicted  for  that  he,"  but  then 
the  voice  would  fall,  and  the  rest  of  the  document  became  in- 
audible. 

Once,  and  once  only,  was  this  conduct  reproved,  and  a  very 
pretty  reply  was  uttered  by  the  offender. 

'•  Mr.  ]Moore,"  said  the  Judge  solemnly.  (It  was  always 
^'  Mister"  Moore  in  court.)  "  Mr.  Moore,  read  the  indictment 
distinctly." 

^'Ido." 

"  You  do  not." 

"I  do." 

"  You  do  not." 

"  Here  !     By  the ,  then,"  said  the  registrar,  thrusting 

up  the  parchment  to  the  bench.      '^  Here,  by  the !  read 

it  yourself  then !" 

The  other  example  was  of  a  less  revolting  kind.     In  term, 
the  Court  of  King's  Bench  of  which  Bob's  chief  was  the  head 
13* 


298  THE    IRISH 

sat  at  eleven  o'clock.  ''  The  fumes  of  last  night's  punch" 
would  frequently  render  Bob  unconscious  of  the  advance  of 
time  towards  noon.  It  was,  therefore,  no  unusual  circum- 
stance to  see  him  pushing  his  way  violently  into  court  after 
the  judges  had  takcu  their  seats  on  the  bench. 

One  day  he  was  later  than  usual.  He  had  struggled  into 
his  gown  as  he  was  passing  from  the  robing  room  into  court, 
but  his  wig  was  in  a  sad  state  of  disorder,  and  utterly  inno- 
cent of  powder.  This  was  a  point  upon  which  his  chief  was 
peculiarly  sensitive,  and,  with  all  his  assumed  indifference. 
Bob  rarely  provoked  him  by  inattention  to  it.  The  present 
was,  however,  a  glaring  exception  to  the  rule. 

There  then  existed  in  Dublin  a  class  of  magistrates  known 
by  the  title  of  "Jobbing  Justices,"  who  were  not  always 
creditable  appendages  of  the  executive.  The  last  of  them, 
in  my  recollection,  was  a  lame  surgeon,  of  the  name  of  Drury. 
The  flower  of  the  flock,  at  the  period  of  which  I  speak,  was  a 
certain  Justice  Hickey,  who  was  remarkable  among  his  fellows 
for  always  wearing  clean  linen,  and  a  well-powdered  periwig. 
These  justices  generally  attended  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
and  sat  at  the  table  among  the  barristers  and  attorneys.  On 
the  unlucky  day  to  which  I  have  alluded.  Bob  attracted  his 
chief's  ire  by  the  insurgent  condition  of  his  wig,  every  hair 
of  which  stood  on  end, 

"  Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine." 

"  Mr.  Moore,"  said  his  Lordship. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  a.sked  Bob,  winking  the  while  to 
the  bar. 

"  Your  wig." 

''What  of  it?" 

"  Is  totally  destitute  of  powder." 

"  Oh  !  if  that  be  all,  by I'll  soon  settle  that,"  said 

Bob;  and  making  a  long  arm,  he  reached  over  to  Justice 
Hickey,  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  pulled  off  his  snowy  Caxon, 
and  using  it  as  a  puff,  transferred  the  greater  part  of  its  charge 
of  powder  to  his  own,  and  threw  it  back  into  the  astonished 
Hickey's  face. 

I  am  far  from  giving  these  as  specimens  of  the  general 
practice  in  "  the  Four  Courts,"  but  in  one  or  other  shape 
there  occurred  daily  in  all  of  them  incidents  which  showed 


ABROAD   AND    AT    HOME.  299 

that  justice,  if  at  all  dispensed,  was  not  administered  in  them 
with  dignity  and  decorum.* 

The  staid,  decorous,  pacific  modern  reader,  would  experi- 
ence a  sensation,  if  I  were  to  state  all  that  I  have  heard  about 
the  members  of  the  legal  profession,  from  the  judge  to  the 
attorney's  clerk,  in  those  days,  and  even  down  to  a  later 
period.  Lord  Clare,  Lord  Xorbury,  Judge  Daly,  and  other 
members  of  the  bench,  had  respectively  been  ''  on  the  ground" 
as  principals,  with  the  chance  of  becoming  homicides.  Duel- 
fighting  had  become  a  rage  in  the  legal  profession,  but  with 
certain  parties  there  was  method  in  their  madness.  Norbury 
was  brave  as  a  duellist,  and  audacious  as  he  was  false  and 
cruel.  Daly's  promotion  to  the  bench  was  preceded — if  it 
were  not  caused — by  his  killing,  in  a  duel,  James  3Ioore 
O'Donnell,  the  anti-unionist  candidate  for  the  county  of 
Mayo.  Deeply  deplored  was  the  victim.  I  have  a  recollec- 
tion of  the  sorrow  it  created  in  Ireland,  and  of  the  horror 
expressed  at  the  statement  that  he  was  one  of  eight  or  ten 
called  out  by  bravoes  to  qualify  themselves  for  place — and 
such  place  !  ''  At  a  private  concUiahulej"  said  a  well-informed 
party  to  me  in  Paris,  "  the  parts  were  distributed :  Corry 
challenged  Grattan,  and  was  shot  in  the  arm ;  Toler  and  Daly, 
and  others,  called  out  their  men." 

When  these  were  the  habits  and  the  practice  of  legislators 
and  law-givers,  it  will  be  readily  believed  that  order,  decorum, 
and  dignity  presided  not  in  the  Courts  of  Justice,  and  that, 
consequently,  respect  for  the  laws  was  neither  general  nor 
profound. 

*  Everybody  will  recollect  the  inexcusably  impertinent  conduct  of  Lord 
Chancellor  Clare  on  one  occasion,  who,  while  Curran  was  addressing  him 
in  a  most  important  case,  occupied  himself  with  a  favourite  spaniel  or  New- 
foundland dog,  seated  by  him  ;  and  all  the  world  wUI  remember  the  rebuke 
administered  to  him  by  that  rarely  gifted  man.  Curran  having  ceased 
speaking,  through  indignation,  or  malice  prepense,  Lord  Clare  raised  his 
head  and  asked  :  "  Why  don't  you  proceed,  Mr.  Curran  '!" 

"  I  thought  your  Lordships  were  in  consultation,"  replied  Curran. 

Glorious  John ! 


300  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  LXVIL 

Tho  Lord  Sanquhar,  a  Scotch  nobleman,  having,  in  private  revenge, 
suborned  Robert  Carlisle  to  murder  John  Turner,  master  of  fence,  thought, 
by  his  greatness,  to  have  borne  it  out — but  the  King,  respecting  nothing  so 
much  as  justice,  would  not  suffer  nobility  to  be  a  shelter  for  villany,  but, 
nccording  to  law,  on  the  29th  of  June,  1612,  the  said  Lord  Sanquhar,  having 
been  arraigned  and  condemned  by  the  name  of  Robert  Creighton,  Esquire, 
was  before  AVestminster  Hall  Gate  executed,  where  he  died  very  penitent. 
The  Argument  of  the  charge  delivered  by  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  Knight, 

the  King's  Solieitor-Oeneral,  at  the  arraignment  of  the  Lord  Sanquhar 

in  the  King's  Bench  ut  Westminster. 

AS  we  approacla  the  period  of  the  French  Kevolutlon,  we 
find  the  Irish  government  become  less  at  ease  and  more 
stringent  in  its  measures  of  conservation.  The  admonitions 
received  from  the  loss  of  America,  and  the  declaration  of  Irish 
Independence,  produced  upon  it  their  effects  in  more  ways 
than  one.  They  stimulated  its  resolve  to  maintain  the  con- 
nexion of  Ireland  and  England,  and  they  suggested  the  expedi- 
ency of  relaxing  the  iron  rule  by  which  it  had  been  continued, 
and  which,  while  it  rendered  the  great  mass  of  the  population 
hostile,  failed  to  propitiate  and  attach  the  party  to  whom  the 
latter  had  been,  as  it  were,  delivered  over  for  persecution  and 
torture. 

Some  improvement  had  taken  place  in  the  general  adminis- 
tration of  the  laws,  but  still  there  existed  irregularities  and 
anomalies  of  an  extraordinary  character,  and  an  impression 
that  judicial  decisions  were  not  always  uninfluenced  or  impar- 
tial. It  was  no  unusual  circumstance,  therefore,  for  litigant 
parties  to  anticipate  the  decrees  of  the  tribunals,  and,  taking 
the  law  into  their  own  hands,  to  enter  upon  and  maintain  for- 
cible possession  of  property  in  dispute,  frequently  without  a 
semblance  of  legal  claim. 

An  instance  of  this  kind  occurred  in  the  county  of  Meath, 
some  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago ;  the  invader  holding  his  un- 
lawful seizure  against  the  sheriff  backed  by  a  strong  military 
force,  and  enduring  a  siege,  in  the  course  of  which  even  artil- 
lery was  employed.    I\Iy  father,  from  whom  I  had  the  particu- 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  301 

lars,  was  among  the  spectators ;  who,  like  those  who  crowded 
to  the  siege  of  Antwerp  some  years  since,  had  assembled  to 
witness  the  operations.  An  unfortunate  horse-soldier,  whose 
regiment  was  quartered  in  the  town  of  Trim,  and  who  had 
gone  thither  to  enjoy  the  proceedings,  was  killed  close  to  my 
father  by  a  shot  from  the  garrison. 

Another  and  more  horrible  affair  of  the  same  nature  took 
place  in  the  county  of  Mayo,  about  the  same  time.  Mr. 
George  Robert  FitzGerald,  of  whom,  under  the  name  of 
"  Fighting  FitzGerald,"  the  English  public  have,  through  the 
medium  of  a  collection  of  reminiscences,  published  five-and- 
twenty  years  ago,  some  knowledge,  retained  his  father,  during 
several  years,  a  prisoner  in  his  own  house — the  Castle  of  Tur- 
lough.  Other  crimes  were  subsequently  laid  to  his  charge,  and 
proved ;  with  how  much  legality  will  be  seen. 

George  Robert  FitzGerald  was  a  gentleman  of  ancient 
family.  He  had  travelled,  and  had  been  presented  at  nearly 
all  the  courts  of  Europe.  His  biogi-aphers  claim  for  him  ex- 
ceeding elegance  of  manners,  as  well  as  the  copyright  of  a  most 
impudent  and  impious  joke,  in  order  to  demonstrate  that  he 
was  a  man  of  wit  and  repartee.  The  story  runs,  that  three 
pictures  of  exquisite  art  were  one  day  shown  to  him  by  the 
unfortunate  Louis  XVI.  in  his  cabinet  at  Versailles ;  and  that 
His  Majesty  observed  :  "  That  at  the  right-hand  is  His  Holi- 
ness the  Pope ;  that  on  the  left  is  my  own   portrait  by ; 

this  in  the  centre  I  need  not  tell  you  is  the  Ecce  Homo  of 


Upon  which  FitzGerald  is  said  to  have  rejoined  :  "  Please 
your  Majesty,  I  have  always  understood  that  our  Saviour  was 
crucified  between  two  thieves,  but  I  never  knew  who  they  were 
before." 

In  person,  FitzGerald  was  small,  but  admirably  formed  ;  in 
mind  and  disposition,  that  which  will  suggest  itself  from  the 
perusal  of  the  following  particulars.  He  was  a  most  undutiful 
son ;  as  a  friend,  nothing  is  known  of  him,  for  he  cultivated 
no  friendships,  but  he  attached  to  himself  adherents  who  would 
dare  death  itself  in  his  service ;  they  were,  however,  of  the 
most  atrocious  description,  and  their  support  was  no  doubt  well 
paid.  As  an  enemy,  and  in  such  character  chiefly  is  he  known 
to  history,  he  was  implacable.  His  courage  was  questionable. 
He  fought  many  duels;  twice  with  Dick  Martin;  but  in  com- 
bat, as  in  evei-y  other  circumstance  of  his  life,  he  was  cunning, 


302  THE    IRISH 

ruse,  unloyal.  As  a  subject  and  citizen,  lie  was  bad  as  could 
be^  and  even  at  variance  witb  the  laws  and  with  society. 

In  Mayo  he  sought  to  reign  despotically.  He  was  fully 
aware  of  the  admonition  of  Beaumarchais  :  "  Souvenez-vous, 
que  I'homme  qu'on  salt  timide  est  toujours  dans  la  d^pendance 
de  tous  les  fripons,"  and  he  exercised  the  advantage  his  auda- 
city gave  to  him  without  scruple  or  limit.  He  would  bear  no 
brother  near  the  throne,  and  was  consequently  engaged  inces- 
santly in  broils  with  a  neighbouring  gentleman,  Mr.  Patrick 
Randall  MacDonnell,  like  himself,  a  member  of  an  ancient  and 
highly  respectable  family,  but  who  yielded  not  in  turbulence, 
and  not  much  in  misconduct,  to  George  Robert  FitzGerald. 

Ostensibly  reckless  and  daring,  he  nevertheless  gave  strength 
to  the  received  belief,  that  your  bully  is  ever  a  coward.  In  a 
casual  dispute  at  the  gaming-table  (Daly's  Club-house,  College 
Green)  with  Hamilton  Gorges  of  Kilbrew,  county  of  Meath, 
better  known  and  always  respected  as  ''  Hammy  Gorge,"  he 
was  beaten,  kicked,  cuffed,  knocked  down,  and  had  all  the 
furniture  of  the  room  and  other  matters  heaped  upon  him,  yet 
he  never  challenged  his  adversary. 

In  both  his  "  affairs"  with  Dick  Martin  he  displayed 
insolence  certainly,  but  accompanied  by  evidence  of  craft  and 
treachery,  incompatible  with  the  feelings  of  a  brave  man.  In 
commencing  the  first  of  them  he  reckoned  upon  an  easy  con- 
quest from  his  skill  as  a  swordsman,  but  scarcely  had  their 
weapons  crossed  when  he  became  aware  that  he  had  to  do  with 
un  adversaire  de  la  premiei-e  force,  but  one  also  trop  entre- 
prenant.  Thus  informed,  FitzGerald  put  into  action  all  his 
capabilities.  They  fought  with  swords  across  a  channel  or 
gutter  in  the  barrack-yard  of  Castlebar,  where  an  immense 
crowd  had  assembled  to  witness  the  engagement,  most  of  them, 
of  course,  "  Mayo  men."  Before  the  combatants  had  taken 
their  places,  FitzGerald  called  to  the  spectators  :  "  Here  goes  ! 
Mayo  against  Galway !  The  Mayo  cock  against  the  Galway 
one!"  This  produced  a  cheer  from  the  bystanders;  but  it 
failed,  as  every  other  possible  means  would,  to  intimidate  the 
gallant  Dick.  They  fought  for  twenty  minutes ;  Martin  fell 
dangerously  wounded.* 

*  While  in  London,  forty  years  afterwards,  attending  to  his  parliamentary 
duties,  Dick  lived  in  modest  lodgings  in  Manchester  Buildings,  close  to 
Westminster  Bridge,  "in  order  to  be  near  the  House,  he  said — but  although 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  303 

Some  time  afterwards  they  met  by  chance  at  the  door  of 
Dugdale,  the  bookseller,  whose  house  stood  at  the  corner  of 
Palace  Street  and  Dame  Street,  Dublin.  After  a  word  or  two 
they  drew,  and  exchanged  several  passes;  but  even  at  that 
period,  when  gaming,  horse-racing,  cock-fighting,  and  hard 
drinking,  clanship,  constitutional  insolence,  and  ill-manners 
produced  daily  and  nightly  quarrels,  duelling  in  the  streets 
was  not  permitted.  The  police  were  called  for.  Before  their 
arrival,  however,  Martin  had  several  times  bent  his  sword  on 
FitzGerald's  body,  which  was  encased  in  steel  chain-armour. 
At  length,  Martin  rushed  upon  him  and  knocked  him  down, 
or  he  fell  by  accident  from  the  steps  on  his  face,  and  Dick 
inflicted  upon  him,  while  prostrate,  a  wound  which  would,  by 
the  rules  of  the  modern  ''  ring,"  be  deemed  foul,  for  it  was 
"  below  the  waistband."  Dick  admitted  that  qualification 
afterwards,  but  excused  himself  by  saying,  '■'■  it  was  the  only 
vulnerable  point  he  could  find  about  him." 

FitzGerald  one  day  paid  a  visit  to  Lord  Tyrawley,  the  kind- 
hearted  Jemmy  Cuflfe,  at  his  seat,  Deel  Castle.  It  was  winter. 
On  sending  in  his  name,  he  was  admitted  and  found  Cufie  in 
his  study  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire-place,  his  hands 
behind  him  holding  a  large  poker,  which,  when  FitzGerald 
was  announced,  he  had  hastened  to  thrust  into  the  fire.  George 
Robert  had  come  to  quarrel,  and  Cufl'e  knew  the  object  of  his 
visit,  and  prepared  to  receive  him  in  the  way  I  have  described. 
FitzGerald,  who  was  quicksighted  to  an  almost  miraculous 
degree,  immediately  perceived  on  entering  how  matters  stood, 
and  knew  well  that  Cufl'e  would  unrelentingly  enact  the  part 
of  Baillie  Nichol  Jarvie  when  similarly  armed.     He  therefore 

the  possessor  of  estates  larger  than  several  of  the  German  Principalities, 
he  was  compelled  to  this  comparative  shabbiness.  Being  esteemed  by  his 
own  countrymen,  he  was  much  visited,  and  had  really  attached  friends. 
Among  the  latter,  strange  to  say,  was  Major  FitzGerald,  son  of  his  old 
antagonist,  George  Robert  (and  now  a  magistrate  of  Middlesex).  Dick's 
petit  lever  was  literally  an  undress  one.  He  "  received"  in  his  bed-chamber, 
and  frequently  on  the  entrance  of  a  visiter,  rose  from  his  couch  and  gave 
audience,  promenading  the  while  eans-culotte — almost  "sans  everything." 
One  Monday,  about  the  year  1824,  Major  FitzGerald  called  on  him,  and 
entered  his  dormitory  sans  ceremonie.  Dick  turned  out,  and  conversed  with 
him  for  some  time  as  they  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  upon  indifferent 
topics.  At  length  Dick,  suiting  the  action  to  the  discovery  of  evidence 
said:  "Look  here.  Major.  See  what  your  good  father  did  forme  in  the 
streets  of  Castlebar;"  pointing  to  the  scars  of  a  sword  wound  through  and 
through  his  body. 


804  THE    IRISH 

conducted  himself  civilly,  and  after  some  unimportant  conver- 
sation took  his  departure.* 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

Le  "  moi"  est  baissable  :  ainsi  ceux  qui  se  contentent  seulement  de  le 
couvrir  sont  toujours  haissables.  En  un  mot — lo  "moi"  a.  deux  qualites — 
il  est  injuste  en  soi  en  ce  qu'il  se  fait  centre  de  tout;  il  est  incommode  aux 
autres  en  ce  qu'il  veul  les  asservir. 

Pascal. 

GEORGE  ROBERT  FITZGERALD  was  the  incarnation 
of  the  ego'isme  so  strongly  reprobated  and  condemned  by 
Blaire  Pascal,  in  the  extract  above  given.  The  hostilities 
carried  on  between  him  and  his  partisans  with  Mr.  MacDonnell 
and  "■  his  clan,"  kept  the  county  of  Mayo,  or  rather  the  entire 
pi'ovince  of  Connaught,  in  perpetual  alarm.  The  whole  king- 
dom in  fact  resounded  with  their  quarrels  and  conflicts ;  but 
besides  this  foreign  feud  upon  his  hands,  he  had  a  very  grave 
affair  which  occupied  his  leisure  hours  at  home. 

His  father  having  refused  to  join  him  in  levying  a  fine 
and  selling  his  estate,  George  Robert  confined  him,  as  I  have 
already  stated,  in  a  small  room  in  his  own  mansion,  the  Castle 
of  Turlogh,  county  of  Mayo,  and  kept  him  prisoner  there 
during  some  years.  The  government,  being  informed  of  this 
circumstance,  ordered  the  high  sheriff  of  Mayo  to  proceed  to 
Turlogh  and  set  the  unfortunate  old  man  at  liberty.  The 
sheriff  repaired  thither  accordingly,  accompanied  by  a  body  of 
dragoons  to  enforce  submission.  On  coming  into  the  neigh- 
bourhood, he  took  the  precaution  of  making  some  inquiries  of 
the  people,  who  flocked  in  considerable  numbers  to  enjoy 
resistance  of  the  laws  and  the  discomfiture  of  the  sheriff,  to 
whom  they  knew  FitzGerald  would  not  submit. 

''  Don't  go,  for  your  life,  sir,"  said  a  man  to  whom  the 
magistrate  addressed  himself;  "the  master  is  prepared  to 
blow  you  all  to  the \" 

*  Soon  after,  he  paid  a  visit  with  somewhat  similar  intentions  to  Mr. 
(afterwards  Sir  Richard)  Nagle,  at  Jamestown  House,  county  of  Westraeath 
(with  whom  he  was  connected  by  marriage) ;  but  the  interview  terminated 
civilly,  with,  however,  indications  that  FitzGerald  was  not  right  in  his 
mind. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  305 

Prosecuting  his  inquiries  further,  the  sheriii"  learned  that 
FitzGerald  had  built  two  small  towers  in  advance  of,  and 
flanking  the  castle,  and  had  mounted  in  them  some  ship-guns 
which  had  belonged  to  a  vessel  that  had  foundered  on  the 
coast  close  to  his  residence.  He,  nevertheless,  announced 
himself  by  an  agent,  who  trembled  as  he  delivered  the  message, 
and  demanded  the  instantaneous  release  of  Mr.  FitzGerald, 
senior.  George  Robei't  did  not  hang  up  the  messenger,  but  told 
him  to  acquaint  the  sheriff,  with  his  compliments,  that  the 
old  gentleman  had  gone  out  fishing,  and  could  not  conse- 
quently be  given  up  to  the  magistrate. 

This  was  true,  for  on  the  approach  of  the  shei-iff,  George 
Robert  persuaded  his  unhappy  parent  to  enter  an  armed  boat 
"  for  the  amusement  of  fishing,"  as  he  said,  and  which  put  to 
sea,  and  remained  in  the  ofiing  during  the  negotiation. 

The  sheriff,  not  content  with  the  reply  made  to  his  sum- 
mons, put  a  bold  face  upon  the  matter,  and,  disposing  his 
force,  marched  upon  the  castle.  The  moment  he  came  within 
range,  he  was  complimented  with  a  salute  from  the  forts,  the 
projectiles  from  which  cut  the  branches  of  the  trees  of  the 
avenue  over  the  heads  of  himself  and  his  party.  A  general 
scamper  of  sheriff  and  escort  instantly  followed.  When  be- 
yond the  reach  of  shot,  they  pulled  rein  and  rallied.  Scarcely 
had  they  recovered  breath,  when  a  servant  appeared,  coming 
from  the  castle.  With  mock  respect  he  presented  his  master's 
civilities  to  the  sheriff,  apologizing  for  the  little  incident  that 
had  just  occurred,  and  which  was  "merely  the  execution  of 
orders  given  by  Mr.  FitzGerald  to  some  of  his  people,  to  em- 
ploy themselves  in  duck-shooting."  He  begged  the  sheriff  to 
return,  therefore,  assuring  him  of  a  distinguished  and  warm 
reception. 

There  was  in  the  leer  of  the  man  who  presented  this  mes- 
sage something  admonitory.  The  sheriff  declined  the  invita- 
tion, therefore,  and  retired.  He  sent  to  the  government  a 
detailed  account  of  the  facts,  declaring  his  conviction  that 
FitzGerald,  aided  by  his  miscreant  adherents,  would  defend 
Turlogh  Castle  to  the  last  extremity.* 

*  They  knew  him  too  well  to  risk  tlie  consequences  of  disobeJicneo. 
Never  was  knave  more  absolute  than  he.  Ilis  hunting-stud  was  one  of  the 
best  in  the  country.  For  exercise,  and  to  test  the  qualities  of  a  magnificent 
horse  he  had  lately  purchased  at  a  large  price,  he  desired  a  groom  to  mount, 
and  leap  him  over  a  wall  in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  residence.     The  horse 


306  THE    IKISH 

A  Privy  Council  was  held  at  the  Castle  of  Dublin,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  lawless  and  outrageous  conduct  of  George 
Robert  FitzGerald,  and  a  new  exjDcdition  against  Turlogh  was 
ordered,  composed — will  it  be  credited? — of  horse,  foot,  and 
artillery !  This  time  the  law  was  enforced.  George  Robert 
made  no  resistance,  and  surrendered  his  prisoner. 

Disembarrassed  of  his  home-occupation,  he  devoted  all  his 
time  and  all  his  strength  to  his  struggle  for  the  dictature  of 
Mayo  with  Pat  Randall  MacDonnell.  In  a  journey  into  the 
North  of  Ireland  he  had  collected  half  a  score  of  villains, 
whom  he  brought  up  to  Mayo  and  planted  in  various  directions 
about  Turlogh  Castle.  These  desperadoes  formed  his  body- 
guard, and  were  ready  to  perform  any  service  FitzGerald  might 
require  of  them.  The  Corypheus  of  the  gang  was  a  man 
named  Andrew  Craig,  nicknamed  by  the  country  people,  on 
account  of  his  North-country  accent,  ''Scotch"  Andrew. 

During  a  visit  to  London,  FitzGerald  had  made  acquaint- 
ance with  an  Old  Bailey  lawyer,  whom  he  had  probably  em- 
ployed to  defend  him  in  some  difference  with  the  authorities. 
Recognising  in  him  available  qualities,  FitzGerald  proposed 
to  him  to  become  his  privy  councillor  and  legal  adviser.  This 
man,  whose  name  was  Brecknock,  accepted  the  office,  and 
throughout  his  subsequent  quarrels  and  encounters  with  the 
law  and  with  adverse  factions,  FitzGerald  derived  much  "com- 
fort and  assistance"  from  him. 

The  quarrel  with  MacDonnell  had  endured  so  long,  and 
was  accompanied  by  so  many  reverses,  that  FitzGerald's  impa- 
tience and  rancour  urged  him  to  extremities.  He  therefore 
consulted  his  privy  councillor,  upon  the  means  of  ridding  him- 
self of  his  rival  and  adversary  without  risking  his  own  life. 

"The  matter  is  not  difficult,"  said  Brecknock.  "You  are 
a  magistrate ;  send  one  of  your  people  to  provoke  MacDonnell 
to  a  breach  of  the  peace,  than  which  nothing  is  more  easy. 
Let  the  man  swear  examinations  against  him  before  you;  and 
upon  these,  issue  a  summons,  or,  if  necessary,  a  warrant. 
When  MacDonnell  shall  appear  or  be  brought  into  your  pre- 
sence, commit  him  to  the  county  jail.  Send  him  off  under  an 
escort  of  your  people,  direct  another  party  of  your  adherents 

was  faced  at  it,  but  on  arriving  shied,  or  balked  it.  "  Dismount,"  said  Fitz- 
Gerald to  the  groom ;  "  even  a  horse  must  do  my  bidding,  or  suffer  for  it." 
Then  taking  out  a  pistol,  one  of  his  usual  travelling  companions,  he  shot 
the  animal  on  the  spot. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  307 

to  make  a  pretended  attempt  at  rescue  of  tte  prisoner  on  the 
way;  it  will  then  be  lawful  for  the  escort  to  fire  upon  him. 
He  will  probably  attempt  to  escape  in  the  scuffle ;  but,  at  all 
events,  as  none  but  your  own  partisans  will  be  present,  they 
can  say  that  he  did.  You  will  thus  safely  and  surely  disem- 
barrass yourself  of  a  mortal  enemy." 

This  advice  was  followed  in  every  particular.  Mr.  Mac- 
Donnell  was  insulted :  he  horsewhipped  the  offender,  was 
brought  before  FitzGerald  to  answer  for  the  assault,  and  was 
by  him  committed  to  the  jail  of  Castlebar.  A  strong  party 
of  FitzGerald's  people,  including  the  Scotch  settlers,  was 
drawn  up,  and  to  them  the  prisoner  was  delivered  for  con- 
veyance to  prison.  Before  they  set  out  they  were  harangued 
by  Brecknock,  who  exhorted  them  to  a  faithful  and  courageous 
performance  of  their  task  in  lodging  the  culprit  safely  in  pri- 
son. '^  Should  he  attempt  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice  by 
flight,"  said  Brecknock,  "it  will  be  yoixr  duty  to  shoot  him, 
if-  no  means  less  violent  present  themselves  for  preventing  his 
evasion." 

The  party  then  commenced  their  journey. 

Upon  reaching  the  foot  of  a  bridge,  on  their  way,  a  group 
of  men  in  a  field  which  overlooked  the  road,  called  upon  the 
party  to  liberate  their  prisoner.  A  refusal  and  other  words 
ensued  between  the  escort  and  the  men  who  threatened  a  res- 
cue. Stones  were  thrown.  Mr.  MacDonnell,  it  was  said, 
made  some  movement  which  his  guards  afi"ected  to  consider  as 
an  attempt  at  flight,  and  he  was  shot  by  Scotch  Andrew.  He 
fell  from  the  horse  on  which  he  rode,  and  was  borne  to  the 
bridge  and  placed  sitting  against  the  wall,  while  the  mock 
conflict  proceeded.  He  died  soon  after,  and  in  that  position, 
I  think. 

This  horrible  event  was  said  to  give  nearly  general  satisfac- 
tion, for  it  was  hoped  that  FitzGerald  had,  by  his  connexion 
with  it,  committed  himself  capitally.  Full  one-half  of  the 
gentry  of  the  country  were  friends  of  MacDonnell,  against 
whom  no  actual  crime,  and  ''only  a  disposition  to  riot"  and 
disorder  were  alleged,  while  FitzGerald  had,  by  his  insolence, 
brutality,  and  cruelty,  and  the  terror  he  inspired,  become  the 
object  of  universal  fear  or  hatred.  He  and  his  legal  oracle 
and  his  trusty  bravo  were  arrested  by  order  of  government. 
The  Crown  lawyers  were  ordered  to  prosecute  them,  and  they 
conducted  the  case  con  amove.     The  Attorney-general,  John 


308  THE    IRISH 

FitzGibbon  (afterwards  Lord  Clare),  aud  the  Solicitor-general, 
Barry  Yelverton  (afterwards  Lord  Avonmore),  pledged  them- 
selves toTTs  conviction,  and  in  fact  George  Robert  FitzGerald 
was  doomed. 

Impatient  at  the  interval  that  must  elapse  before  he  could 
be  brought  to  trial  at  the  assizes,  or  fearing  that  through  some 
error  or  failure  of  evidence  the  prisoner  might  escape  punish- 
ment, the  gentry  rather  than  the  populace  of  Mayo  resorted 
to  a  proceeding  similar  to  that  which  had  a  short  time  previ- 
ously occurred  at  Edinburgh,  in  the  case  of  Porteus,  rendered 
for  ever  memorable  by  Walter  Scott,  in  his  "  Heart  of  Mid 
Lothian,"  and  in  which  possibly  oi'iginated  that  famous  trans- 
atlantic process  called  trial  by  Lynch  law.  They  broke  open 
the  jail,  forced  themselves  into  FitzGerald's  cell,  and  sought 
to  murder  him,  and  retired  only  when  they  believed  they  had 
put  him  to  death ;  but  he  recovered.  There  was  little  outcry 
against  this  infamous  outrage,  so  general  and  intense  was  the 
execration  in  which  the  victim  of  it  was  held. 

The  assizes  were  now  drawing  near,  and  the  law-officers  of 
the  Crown  were  indefatigable  in  getting  up  the  case  against 
the  assassins  of  Mr.  MacDonnell.  They  found,  however,  a 
deficiency  of  evidence  in  respect  of  the  one  of  the  party  whose 
conviction  they  were  most  solicitous  to  insure.  Against  Scotch 
Andrew  and  Brecknock  the  proofs  were  incontestable ;  but 
they  saw  no  means  of  connecting  FitzGerald  with  the  crime 
without  further  aid.  They  came  to  the  extraordinary  resolu- 
tion, therefore,  of  suffering  the  actual  murderer  to  escape,  in 
order  to  use  his  evidence  against  the  accessories.  On  the  tes- 
timony, therefore,  of  Andrew  Craig,  alias  Scotch  Andrew, 
George  Robert  FitzGerald  and  Brecknock  were  convicted  of 
the  murder  of  Patrick  Randall  MacDonnell  as  accessories 
before  the  fact. 

The  prisoners  were  tried  separately.  I  have  heard  that 
Brecknock  sustained  his  reputation  for  astuteness  in  his  own 
defence  ;*  but  the  proofs  against  him  were  overwhelming  : 
FitzGerald  treated  the  proceedings  against  him  as  illegal,  but 
all  the  points  made  by  his  advocates  were  overruled. 

There  was  not,  I  believe,  any  horror  evinced  at  the  mode 

*  Everything  was  seized  upon  in  Ireland  in  those  days  in  an  anti- 
Catholic  spirit.  Thus  George  Robert,  who  was  a  violent  enemy  of  the 
persecuted  Papists,  was  said  to  have  acted  under  the  advice  of  a  Jesuit — 
Brecknock  was  a  Protestant. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  309 

by  ■which  FitzGerald  was  brought  within  the  grasp  of  the  law; 
nevertheless,  the  feeling  with  regard  to  him  was  precisely  that 
expressed  by  Voltaire  in  the  case  of  Lally  Tollendal :  ''Every 
man  in  Ireland  had  a  right  to  put  him  to  death,  except  the 
executioner."  A  judge  of  the  land,  in  speaking  of  FitzGe- 
rald's  execution,  said :  "  They  have  murdered  the  murderer." 

The  convicts  were  hanged  from  scaffolding  employed  in  the 
erection  of  a  new  jail  in  Castlebar,  which  was  yet  unfinished. 
FitzGerald,  on  being  brought  to  the  place  of  execution,  recog- 
nised the  presence  of  nearly  every  gentleman  of  the  county, 
including  the  high  sheriff,  the  Hon.  Denis  Browne,  brother  of 
the  Earl  of  Altamont  (subsequently  created  Marquis  of  Sligo), 
who  might  be  said  to  be  his  friend,  at  least  he  was  his  neigh- 
bour, and  only  his  equal.  The  guard  was  composed  of  the 
corps  of  volunteer  cavalry,  of  which  George  Robert  FitzGerald 
himself  had  been  the  captain  ! 

The  culprit  was  made  to  mount  a  ladder,  and  the  rope  was 
drawn  over  a  board,  fixed  upon  its  edge.  It  was  placed  round 
the  neck  of  FitzGerald,  who  displayed  much  levity.  He  was, 
in  fact,  half-drunk  with  wine  and  spirits.  Giving  vent  to  his 
excitement,  he  jumped  from  the  ladder ;  and  although  slight 
and  light,  the  tension  of  the  rope  over  the  edge  of  the  board 
caused  by  his  fall  snapped  it.  He  came  on  his  feet,  and  after 
a  moment  recovered  the  shock,  and  said  to  Denis  Browne : 
"  Mr.  Sheriff,  your  rope  is  not  fit  to  hang  a  dog." 

Another  was  procured ;  but  the  interval  was  so  long,  that 
the  fumes  of  the  wine  or  brandy  he  had  swallowed  evaporated, 
and  a  collapse  ensued.  He  now  trembled.  In  this  state  he 
was  compelled  once  more  to  mount  the  ladder,  however,  and 
standing  on  it,  instead  of  now  anticipating  the  executioner,  he 
prayed  the  sheriff  repeatedly  for  time,  pretending  an  expecta- 
tion of  a  reprieve.  In  this  way  an  hour  passed.  At  length, 
at  a  given  signal,  he  was  turned  off  and  died. 

Every  word  I  have  written  of  this  unhappy  man  is  unfa- 
vourable to  him.  It  is  just,  however,  to  add,  that  I  have  never 
met  any  person  who  knew  him,  who  did  not  express  the  belief 
that  George  Robert  FitzGerald  was  mad.* 

*  I  have  heard  a  precisely  similar  opinion  pronounced  respecting  two 
unfortunate  Irishmen,  -who  suffered  capital  punishment  in  London  early  in 
the  present  century.  These  were,  Colonel  Despard,  executed  for  high  treason 
in  May,  1803,  and  Bellingham,  the  assassin  of  Mr.  Percival  in  the  lobby 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  in  1812.  All  the  circumstances  prove,  however, 
that  they  were  respectively  non  compos  menda.  At  the  present  day  thoy 
would  bo  merely  "  shut  up." 


310  THE    IRISH 

The  grounds  of  this  belief  were  the  apparently  constitu- 
tional wrong-headedness,  the  perversity,  the  pugnacity,  the 
recklessness  he  displayed.  Miscreant  though  he  were,  an 
amount  of  sympathy  was  expressed  for  him,  towards  which 
the  illegality  of  admitting  the  evidence  of  the  principal  against 
the  accessories,  went  for  much.  Mad  or  not,  he  was  eccentric. 
Being  out  hunting  one  day,  a  fox  led  the  party  into  a  church- 
yard, or  other  enclosure,  which  brought  them  to  a  stand-still. 
It  was  bounded  on  one  side  (that  by  which  the  fox  escaped) 
by  a  six-foot  wall ;  outside  was  a  precipice  of  twenty  feet. 

"  I  will  bet  five  hundred  guineas,"  said  Sir  Samuel  O'Mal- 
ley,  ''  that  no  man  here  will  clear  that  wall." 

"  Done  !"  said  FitzGerald;  and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse, 
he  leaped  it.  The  poor  animal  was  killed ;  but  FitzGerald, 
reserved  for  another  fall,  escaped,  and  without  a  broken  bone. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

Advise  well  before   you  begin;  when  you  have  maturely  considered, 
then  act  with  promptitude. 

SALLrST. 

IN  the  middle  and  towards  the  end  of  the  last  century  there 
figured  at  the  Irish  bar  another  Mayo  man,  a  passage  in 
whose  life  will  relieve  the  tragic  tale  I  have  just  been  telling. 
He  was  a  descendant  of  the  ancient  and  honourable  Norman 
house  of  Costelloe — (your  Nagle  and  your  Nangle  are  varie- 
ties of  the  Costelloe,  be  it  known.)  He  had  received  an  ex- 
cellent education,  and  possessed  considerable  legal  knowledge. 
He  was  shrewd,  of  much  seeming  gravity;  but  was  playful  as 
a  kitten,  cunning  as  a  fox,  mischievous  as  a  monkey ;  ''  A 
fellow  of  infinite  jest," — a  living  joke;  witty  himself,  and  the 
cause  of  wit  in  other  men.  He  was,  although  his  family  had 
resided  during  six  centuries  in  Ireland,  a  true  Norman. 

He  had  been  in  the  year  1745,  and  subsequently,  a  student 
of  the  Middle  Temple,  London,  and  had  not  denied  himself 
any  of  the  pleasures,  or  indeed  any  of  the  adventures  of  which 
the  English  metropolis  afi"orded,  that  is,  to  the  utmost  extent 
of  the  means  supplied  by  his  family.     He  thus  acquired  vast 


ABROAD   AND    AT    IIOME.  311 

reputation  of  a  particular  kind  among  his  contemporaries,  and 
even  became  the  hero  of  a  tale  in  which  he  was  made  to  appear 
a  stanch  Jacobite,  guilty  of  high  treason  in  short,  in  har- 
bouring the  Pretender  in  his  chambers. 

In  justice  to  the  counsellor's  character  for  loyalty,  it  must 
be  stated,  however,  that  he  was  maligned  in  that  respect.  I 
had  heard  and  laughed  at  the  story  myself,  and  had  even  told 
it  once  or  twice  with  much  success.  I  had  occasion  to  refer 
one  day,  however,  to  some  of  the  old  chroniclers  of  France,  and 
found  in  Brantome  the  adventure  which  had  been  ascribed  to 
Costelloe,  related  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  brother  of  Charles  VI. 
Continuing  my  investigation,  I  hit  upon  it  also  in  the  "  Essais 
Historiques  of  St.  Foix,"  and  in  an  English  version  of  it  by 
Dr.  Gilbert,  in  his  "  View  of  Society  in  Europe." 

This  story  was  a  specimen  of  a  hundred  anecdotes  of  "■  The 
Counsellor,"  which  I  refi-ain  from  giving  here,  not,  however, 
because  there  is  any  doubt  of  their  correctness.  Fortunately 
there  is  one  which  is  not  liable  to  the  objection  that  imposes 
silence  on  me  respecting  the  others,  and  which  will  serve  to 
portray  my  hero  in  his  proper  colours. 

His  terms  served,  Costelloe  was  called  to  the  bar  in  Dublin, 
where  he  gave  unquestionable  proofs  of  talent ;  but  whether 
through  indolence  or  taste,  eschewing  equity  and  common 
law,  he  devoted  himself  to  what  is  termed  Old  Bailey  practice, 
and  in  which  he  was  unrivalled. 

One  morning,  at  the  time  when  Costelloe  was  in  the  height 
of  his  reputation,  the  city  of  Dublin  was  frightened  from  its 
propriety  by  the  announcement  that  G-leadowe's  bank  had 
been  plundered  of  a  large  sum  in  gold,  by  the  chief  cashier, 
to  whom  its  charge  had  been  intrusted.  The  alleged  culprit 
was  instantly  taken  into  custody,  brought  before  the  sitting 
magistrate,  interrogated,  and  the  proofs  of  his  guilt  being 
held  manifest,  committed  to  Newgate.  The  whole  process 
was  terminated  by  eleven  o'clock,  A.  M. 

Before  the  prisoner  had  reached  his  destination,  Costelloe 
was  made  aware  of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case  by  one 
of  the  committing  magistrate's  clerks,  whom  he  kept  con- 
stantly in  pay.  This  man  had  hardly  left  Costelloe's  house 
after  acquitting  himself  of  this  duty,  when  the  Counsellor 
received  a  letter  inviting  him  to  repair  forthwith  to  Newgate 
to  see  a  Mr.  ,  just  brought  in,  who  desired  his  ad\'ice. 

Costelloe  proceeded  at  once  to  Newgate,  for  such  a  course 


.312  THE    IRISH 

was  not  then  interdicted  to  practitioners  by  private  resolutions 
of  the  bar;  but  even  had  it  been,  he  was  not  a  man  to  be 
turned  from  his  purpose  by  any  rule  that  interfered,  however 
slightly,  with  the  indulgence  of  his  own  humour.  He  was 
there  introduced  to  the  cashier  of  Gleadowe's,  a  man  of  serious, 
sanctimonious  mien,  and  of  some  fifty  years  of  age.  The 
usual  salutations  over,  and  the  door  carefully  closed,  Costelloe, 
with  that  wonderful  coiqj  cToeil  for  which  he  was  celebrated, 
saw  at  once  the  species  of  person  he  had  to  deal  with,  and 
begged  to  be  informed  why  his  presence  had  been  requested. 

"  You  have  heard,  probably,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  that  I 
have  been  the  cashier  of  Gleadowe's  bank,  and  that  it  is  said 
a  large  deficit  has  been  discovered  in  my  accounts  V 

"■  That  you  had  been  a  clerk  of  old  Gleadowe,  I  was  igno- 
rant/' replied  Costelloe;  "but  I  have  just  been  informed  that 
his  cashier  has  appropriated  to  himself  one  of  his  money-bags, 
in  fact  that  the  bank  has  been  robbed  by  the  rascal  of  a  whole 
heap  of  gold." 

"  Rascal !     That  is  a  harsh  word,  sir." 

"  Not  if  applicable." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  shall  not  dispute  terms,  however  painful  to 
an  honest,  conscientious  man  to  bear  them.  I  am  the  party 
in  question." 

"  And  you  done  the  trick  ?"* 

"  Sir !" 

"  You  sacked  the  swag  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you  !" 

"  You've  gotten  the  money  ?" 

*'  Really,  sir,  I  cannot  comprehend  you." 

"  You  robbed  the  bank  ?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ?  I  rob  the  bank  !  I  cheat 
my  employer !  I  plunder  my  benefactor,  and  preserve  the 
fruits  of  it !     No,  sir,  no ;  I  have  not  a  shilling  in  the  world." 

"  Then,  by ,  you'll  be  hanged." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?" 

"  I'll  make  it  as  clear  to  you,  as  that  those  fetters  are  of 

*  Many  years  afterwards,  in  a  more  celebrated  place  (the  House  of  Com- 
mons), on  a  more  exciting  occasion,  a  more  distinguished  Irishman,  the 
Right  Hon.  George  Tiernay,  was  guilty  of  this  identical  error.  In  one  of  his 
remarkable  speeches  delivered  in  that  colloquial  stj'le  which  rendered  it  so 
difficult  to  report  him,  he — after  a  most  powerful  critique  of  the  acts  of 
the  Tory  Administration — summed  up  with  "but,  sir,  His  Majesty's  Minis, 
ters  done  the  trick." 


ABROAD    A^'D    AT    HOME.  813 

iron.  If  you  have  robbed  tbe  bank,  you  must  have  at  least 
some  of  the  money,  and  can  afford  to  pay  me  well  for  saving 
your  life.  If  you  are  innocent,  and  consequently  penniless, 
you  will  be  weighed,  as  sure  as  was  Cahir  na  (jappul.^ 

'^  Weio-hed  i" 

"  In  the  City  Justice  scales.  The  case  is  spoken  of  every- 
where, with  this  addition,  that  the  proofs  against  you  are  irre- 
futable." 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope  ?" 

"None,  if  you  be  what  you  say  yourself — guiltless;  for 
you  cannot  aiford  to  retain  me,  who,  probably  of  all  the  bar, 
could  alone  give  you  a  chance." 

Overwhelmed  and  horrified,  the  hypocrite,  after  some  hesi- 
tation, admitted  that  he  was  in  a  condition  to  remunerate  the 
Counsellor  for  undertaking  his  defence.  '*  What  is  your  {oe, 
sir  ?"  he  asked. 

''  Ten  per  cent. !" 

"  Ten  per  cent.  ?     Why  that  is  a  thousand  pounds  !" 

"  So  much  the  better  for  both  of  us." 

After  many  futile  attempts  to  beat  down  the  Counsellor's 
demand,  the  prisoner  acceded  to  it,  and  gave  him  an  order 
upon  his  wife  for  the  enormous  sum  of  a  thousand  pounds,  on 
an  understanding,  that  if  the  Counsellor's  exertions  should 
fail,  he  would  return  nine  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  it  to — 
the  tcidow  ! 

Immediately  upon  receiving  this  draft,  Costelloe  left  the 
prison,  and  without  waiting  to  present  it,  proceeded  to  the 
Crown  Office,  situate  in  South  Cope  Street,  on  the  site  of  the 
rear  or  court-yard  of  the  present  Commercial  Buildings,  which 
at  that  period  resembled  in  its  functions  the  head  police-office 
of  modern  times.  The  sitting  magistrate  had  risen ;  but  the 
chief  clerk  was  at  his  desk  when  Costelloe  entered.  "  Good 
morning,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  he.  The  clerk  returned  the 
salute.  "  Anything  in  my  way  to-day,  Mr.  Johnson '{"  he 
asked  with  the  most  perfect  nonchalance. 

"  What,  Counsellor  !  Have  you  not  heard  of  the  robbery 
at  Gleadowe's  ?" 

"  Gleadowe's  ?     The  bank  ?     Not  a  word  of  it." 

*  Ccihirno  gappul  ("Charles  the  Horse")  Ts-as  a  celebrated  horse-stealer 
in  his  day,  ■whose  career  was  terminated  by  the  application  to  him  of  one 
of  his  professional  implements — the  halter. 

14 


314  THE    IRISH 

"Yes;  the  cashier,  who  was  deemed  the  most  trustworthy 
of  men,  has  plundered  the  chest." 

<'  Plundered  the  chest  1" 

"  Extracted  from  it  ten  thousand  guineas  in  gold  made  up 
in  rouleaux,  and  has  substituted  for  them  as  many  farthings." 

"And  got  clear  off?" 

"  No.     He  is  safe  in  Newgate." 

"  What  a  scoundrel !" 

"  A  consummate  one  :  but  he  will  suffer  for  it.  The  evi- 
dence against  him  is  conclusive  ;  for  part  of  the  stolen  property 
was  found  in  a  secret  drawer  of  his  desk  at  home." 

'  Did  you  not  say,  that  the  money  abstracted  was  in  gold  ?" 
'  Yes ;  but  those  pieces  have  been  identified." 

"  How  ?     One  guinea  is  so  like  another  !" 

"  True  ;  but  mark  the  finger  of  Providence  !  Along  with 
the  guineas  the  villain  carried  off  ten  foreign  gold  coins, 
Dutch  ducats,  which  were  also  in  the  safe,  and  these  have 
been  sworn  to  by  his  deputy,  and  will  hang  him.     See  here." 

The  clerk  opened  his  desk,  and  took  from  it  a  small  box, 
committed  to  his  custody  for  produ.ction  at  the  trial  of  the 
accused,  and  poured  its  contents  into  the  hands  of  the 
apparently  wondering  Counsellor. 

Costelloe  examined  them  piece  by  piece  with  the  most 
intense  interest ;  turned  and  re-turned  them  in  his  hand,  and 
again  regarded  them  with  the  concentrated  attention  of  a  Jew 
money-changer.  The  scrutiny  lasted  so  long  that  the  clerk 
manifested  impatience.  At  length  Costelloe  restored  them, 
observing :   "  The  fellow  has  undone  himself." 

"  What  a  fortunate  oversight !  was  it  not,  Counsellor?" 

"  Providential,  as  you  just  now  properly  remarked.  Never 
was  proof  more  clear." 

After  a  few  words  further  on  general  subjects,  the  Coun- 
sellor left  the  ofiice  with  a  mind  seemingly  disengaged.  That 
evening  his  confidential  clerk  and  secretary  was  seen  to  go  on 
board  a  Liverpool  packet,  which  lay  at  Sir  John  Eogerson's 
Quay,  and  sailed  half  an  hour  afterwards. 

Some  weeks  later  the  prisoner  was  brought  to  trial  at  the 
Commission  Court,  Green  Street;  and  in  the  presence  of  as 
numerous  an  auditory  as  had  ever  been  congregated  in  it.  As 
usual,  the  counsel  for  the  accused  sat  immediately  before  him. 
On  one  side  of  Costelloe  was  placed  his  clerk,  with  whom  in 
the  course  of  the  proceedings  he  frequently  conversed,  and 


ABROAD   AND    AT    HOME.  315 

whose  hat  was  on  the  table  before  him ;  on  the  other  hand  of 
Costelloe  was  the  attorney  of  the  prisoner.  When  called  upon 
to  plead,  the  unfortunate  man  at  the  bar,  with  much  feelinj^ 
and  deep  emotion,  exclaimed  :  ''  Not  guilty."  With  a  solemn 
asseveration,  he  added,  that  the  rouleaux  of  coin  (farthings) 
found  in  the  safe  were  those  which  had  existed  there  for  years, 
and  formed  part  of  ''  the  rest,"  as  he  had  been  given  to  under- 
stand ;  and  he  had  received  them  from  his  predecessor  at  the 
value  indicated  by  the  ticket  attached  to  each  packet.  He 
had  never  opened  them. 

Costelloe  cross-examined  but  only  slightly  the  witnesses 
who  deposed  to  the  preliminary  facts.  At  length  came  the 
turn  of  the  deputy  cashier,  who  swore  that  he  had  frequently 
seen  in  the  chest  the  identical  ten  Dutch  pieces  of  gold  which 
the  Counsellor  had  so  curiously  examined  at  the  Crown  Office, 
and  which  the  witness  now  again  identified. 

At  this  testimony  Costelloe  looked  serious.  The  examina- 
tion in  chief  of  the  deputy  cashier  being  over,  and  no  move- 
ment made  by  Costelloe,  who  seemed  deeply  absorbed  in 
thought,  the  counsel  for  the  Crown  was  led  to  believe  that  no 
cross-examination  was  intended,  and  accordingly  told  the  wit- 
ness that  he  might  go  down. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  young  man,"  said  the  Counsellor,  rising, 
and  with  an  abstracted  and  vacant  gaze ;  "  stop  a  moment.  I 
have  a  question  or  two  to  ask  you  on  behalf  of  my  unhappy 
client,"  who  now,  feeling  the  peril  in  which  his  life  was  placed, 
began  to  weep  bitterly.  The  witness  reseated  himself,  and 
Costelloe  went  on :  "  And  so,  sir,  you  accuse  your  friend  of 
robbery?" 

"  I  am  sorry  that  my  duty  compels  me  to  give  criminatory 
evidence  against  him." 

''  No  doubt — no  doubt.  His  conviction  will  gain  you  a 
step,  eh  ?" 

''  Sir,  do  you  think  that  it  was  under  such  an  impression, 
and  with  such  a  view  that  I  gave  my  testimony  V 

"  Certainly  I  do." 

A  murmur  of  disapprobation  ran  through  the  court  at  this 
insult  to  the  witness.  The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  looked 
towards  the  Bench  for  protection.  The  Judge,  however,  did 
not  interfere,  nor  did  he  reprove  the  warmth  with  which  they 
exclaimed  against  the  ''  indecent  insinuation  of  Costelloe 
towards  a  witness  whose  testimony,  from  all  that  appeared. 


316  THE    IRISH 

could  not  be  impugned ;"  but  his  Lordship  evidently  looked 
with  interest  to  the  development  of  Costelloe's  motive,  know- 
ing well  that  he  would  not  have  committed  an  indecorum  so 
gross  without  some  powerful  secret  reason.  The  witness  him- 
self, disappointed  at  the  failure  of  the  counsel  for  the  Crown 
to  interest  the  Court  in  his  feelings,  became  red  with  indigna- 
tion. Of  these  circumstances  Costelloe  took  no  notice,  but 
proceeded  :  "  And  so  you  swear,  sir,  that  those  identical  pieces 
of  gold  in  your  hand  this  moment — Where  are  they  ?"  he 
asked  rudely  of  the  solicitor  for  the  prosecution.  They  were 
again  handed  to  the  witness,  and  Costelloe  resumed  :  ''  And 
so  you  swear,  sir,  that  those  identical  pieces  of  gold  in  your 
hand  were  in  the  prisoner's  keeping  ? — now  mind,  you  are  on 
your  oath  !" 

"  I  do  swear  it." 

"  Hand  me  those  coins,  sir,"  said  Costelloe  in  a  tone  that 
expressed  rage  and  fury.  The  witness  complied,  and  handed 
them  to  the  Counselloi',  who  looked  upon  them  with  dismay. 
The  witness  was  triumphant.  The  prisoner  trembled.  The 
court  was  hushed.     Costelloe  sighed. 

"You  have  sworn  positively,  sir,"  said  he ;  "  and  it  will 
be  well  for  you,  if  truly.  Here,  sir,  take  your  blood-money." 
He  stretched  out  his  hand,  with  a  countenance  half-averted, 
as  if  with  disgust ;  and,  missing  that  of  the  witness,  let  fall 
the  mass  into  the  hat  before  him,  by  the  sheerest  accident  in 
the  world.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  my  awkwardness," 
said  Costelloe  to  the  witness ;  the  only  approach  to  civility  he 
had  as  yet  manifested  towards  him.  Then,  putting  his  hand 
into  the  hat,  and  taking  up  a  single  piece,  he  said :  "  You 
persist  in  swearing,  sir,  that  this  piece  of  money,  the  property 
of  Mr.  Gleadowe,  was  in  the  prisoner's  custody?  Now,  mind, 
sir — none  of  your  assumed  contempt." 

"  I  mean  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir." 

"Then  why  look  it?  Recollect  that  you  are  swearing 
away  this  poor  man's  life.  Do  you  still  say,  fellow,  that  this 
piece  of  money  was  in  the  keeping  of  the  prisoner  ?" 

The  witness,  brow-beaten  and  bullied,  became  once  more 
irritated.  He  took  the  ducat  into  his  hand,  and,  scarcely 
deigning  to  glance  at  it,  said  :  "  I  swear  it !" 

"And  this  also?"  said  Costelloe,  taking  up  another,  and 
presenting  it  to  him. 

"  And  that  also." 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  317 

"And  this?" 

"Yes." 

"And  this,  and  this,  and  this  ?"  to  the  number  of  ten. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  this,  and  this,  and  this  ?"  said  the  knave,  producing 
from  the  hat,  in  succession,  twenty  other  pieces  of  a  similar 
kind. 

The  witness  was  horror-stricken  :  his  hair  stood  on  end. 
The  counsel  for  the  Crown  looked  blank;  the  Judge  faintly 
smiled.     The  case  was  abandoned,  and  the  robber  saved. 

The  affiiir  was  quite  simple.  It  will  be  recollected  that 
immediately  after  his  scrutiny  of  the  ducats  at  the  Crown 
Office,  which  enabled  him  to  fix  in  his  memory  their  dates  and 
effigies,  Costelloe  returned  home ;  and  that,  in  the  evening  of 
that  day,  his  confidential  clerk  sailed  for  Liverpool,  the  least 
observable  of  routes.  On  arriving  there,  the  man  went  by  mail 
to  London,  and  thence  by  a  Dutch  packet  to  Rotterdam,  where 
he  bought  up  a  score  of  ducats  of  the  dates  indicated,  by  his 
master ;  with  what  effect  I  have  just  shown. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

In  causes  of  life  and  death,  judges  ought,  as  far  as  the  law  permitteth  in 
justice,  to  remember  mercy. 

Bacon. 

England  has  had  her  Jeffries;  Ireland  has  e.xhibitcd  a  Norbury. 

CIOME  twenty  or  thirty  years  after  this  'achievement  of 
|>^  Costelloe,  there  took  place  in  the  Bank  of  Ireland  a  series 
of  robberies,  perpetrated  by  a  deputy  cashier — a  mortified-look- 
ing  young  man,  named  Henry  Malone  (aided  by  confederates, 
the  sons  of  a  person  who  had  done  the  state  some  service  in 
prosecuting  to  conviction  two  unhappy  youths,  of  seventeen 
and  eighteen  years  respectively,  for  high  treason).  Detected  at 
last,  31  alone  was  taken  into  custody,  committed  to  Newgate, 
brought  to  trial,  and  was  acquitted  of  the  felony,  but  was  imme- 
diately ai-rested  for  the  sums  he  had  embezzled,  "  amounting/' 
said  the  Bank,  "  to  thirteen  or  fourteen  thousand  pounds,"  but 


818  THE   IRISH 

whicli  public  rumour  averred  was  a  considerable  under-statement 
of  the  fact.     He  died  ia  the  Marshalsea  (debtor's  prison). 

Eight  or  nine  years  later,  a  clerk  in  the  bank  of  Ball,  Plun- 
ket  &  Doyne,  Dublin,  possessed  himself  (he  being  ''  clerk  of 
the  chest")  of  a  sum  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  in  bank-notes. 
Arrested  in  a  house  of  ill-fame,  with  several  hundred  pounds 
in  his  pocket,  he  barely  denied  his  guilt,  but  defied  the  bank- 
ers, his  employers,  to  prove  their  case  against  him,  although  he 
admitted  that  their  system  embraced  every  conceivable  check 
upon  their  clerks.  By  the  connivance  of  the  government,  his 
employers  were  allowed  to  compound  his  felony,  on  restitution 
of  all  the  money  remaining  of  the  sum  he  had  stolen,  and  upon 
a  demonstration  of  the  mode  by  which  he  had,  with  impunity, 
plundered  them.  He  delivered  up  to  them  accordingly  nine 
thousand  and  some  hundreds  of  pounds,  and  showed  them  that 
he  could  never  have  been  detected,  for  he  had  effected  his 
crime  by  merely  altering  a  figure  in  the  sum  stated  in  his 
account  book  ten  days  previously,  to  be  safe  in  the  chest — 
(that  is  changing  the  sum  of  £135,000  into  £125,000) — and 
which  account  had  heen  checked,  the  money  counted,  &c.  He 
then  changed  a  figure  in  each  succeeding  day's  account,  so 
that  the  sum  actually  in  the  chest  corresponded  exactly  with 
that  appearing  on  the  face  of  his  book,  as  the  "  contents  of  the 
chest." 

These  occurrences  were  held  to  prove  how  difficult  it  is  to 
imagine  and  carry  out  a  protective  system  of  bank  manage- 
ment, where  dishonesty  exists  united  to  craft  and  audacity. 
Nevertheless,  severe  censures  were  pronounced  upon  the  estab- 
lishments in  which  those  crimes  had  been  practised. 

If,  however,  the  Bank  of  Ireland  and  the  private  banking 
companies  of  Dublin  failed  in  their  prosecutions  of  plunderers 
on  a  large  scale,  they  were  sufficiently  active,  successful,  and 
inexorable  in  their  prosecution  of  comparatively  minor  offenders. 
The  number  of  lives  forfeited  to  the  laws  by  forging  bank-notes 
and  uttering  them,  was  appalling.  No  mercy  was  shown  to 
man,  woman,  or  child  convicted  of  that  crime,  even  though  the 
note  were  of  so  low  a  value  as  twenty  shillings.  Of  the  savage 
cruelty  with  which  the  laws  in  those  respects  were  carried  into 
execution,  one  example  will  suffice. 

During  the  viceroyalty  of  the  late  Duke  of  Richmond  in 
Ireland,  a  poor  simple  man,  named  Moore,  was  tried  at  the 
Sessions  House,  Green  Street,  for  having  passed  or  uttered  at 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  319 

the  large  groceiy  establishment  of  the  Messrs.  Smith  in  Sack- 
ville  Street,  a  forged  note  of  the  nominal  amount  of  thirty  shil- 
lings, purporting  to  be  a  note  of  one  of  the  private  banks  then 
existing  in  Dublin.  It  was  proved  that  he  bought,  at  the 
house  of  the  prosecutors,  on  the  morning  of  a  certain  day,  some 
tea  and  sugar,  and  paid  for  it  with  the  note  in  question,  which, 
soon  after  his  departure,  was  discovered  to  be  a  forgery.  He 
returned  in  the  evening,  made  a  similar  purchase,  and  tendered 
another  note  in  payment.  "  You  were  here  this  morning," 
said  the  shopman  who  served  hiui.  Moore  denied  it.  He  was, 
however,  detained.  A  constable  was  procured,  and  the  utterer 
of  forged  notes,  for  the  second  was  a  counterpart  of  the  first, 
was  sent  to  Newgate  after  he  had  been  examined  before  a  ma- 
gistrate. 

"When  brought  to  trial  he  did  not  deny  the  charge  against 
him,  but  gave  the  following  account  of  himself.  He  stated 
that  on  the  day  before  the  commission  of  the  crime  for  which 
he  stood  indicted,  he  had  arrived  nearly  penniless  in  Dublin 
from  Edenderry,  where  he  was  born,  bred,  and  passed  the 
whole  of  his  life.  He  was  a  married  man,  and  had  two  or 
three  children  to  support.  He  was  a  sort  of  woodsman  or 
hedge-carpenter;  that,  is,  he  had  maintained  himself  and 
family  by  purchasing  timber-trees,  which  he  cut  up  and  formed 
into  spokes  and  felloes  for  coachmakers.  Business  failing  him, 
he  sunk  into  great  distress,  and  left  his  native  village  to  seek 
employment  of  some  kind  in  the  capital.  On  the  evening  of 
his  arrival,  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  gang  of  forgers,  who 
were  on  the  look-out  for  agents  or  instruments.  Observing  his 
simple  and  honest  appearance,  they  calculated  on  deriving 
much  from  his  co-operation.  Giving  him  temporary  relief, 
they,  on  the  following  morning,  sent  him  on  his  first  expedi- 
tion, which,  like  first  steps  in  crime  in  general,  was  successful. 
They  asked  him  to  try  again  :  he  hesitated ;  but  they  told  him 
t'l.'it  the  notes  were  genuine,  although  they  confessed  that  they 
had  been  found  in  the  street  by  accident.  He  made  a  second 
attempt,  therefore,  at  the  very  house  which  a  conscious  crimi- 
nal would  have  avoided,  and  now  stood  before  the  court  a 
guilty  man. 

It  was  proved  that  immediately  on  being  taken  into  cus- 
tody he  admitted  his  guilt ;  and  declared  unhesitatingly  his 
readiness  to  concur  in  bringing  the  actual  forgers  to  justice, 
and  stated  where  they  were  to  be  found.     The  whole  gang, 


820  THE    IRISH 

five  in  number,  were  in  consequence  watched,  and  were 
secured  in  the  act  of  preparing  other  forged  notes  for  circula- 
tion. They  were  brought  to  trial  at  the  Quarter  Sessions, 
before  the  Recorder,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  transporta- 
tion for  having  forged  notes  "  in  their  possession ;"  their 
unhappy  instrument  was  reserved  for  trial  before  the  superior 
criminal  tribunal,  the  commission  at  which  two  judges  of  the 
superior  law  courts  preside — the  "  uttering"  of  forged  notes 
being  a  capital  felony. 

The  prisoner  called  several  coachmakers  of  respectability 
in  Dublin,  with  whom  during  many  years  he  had  had  dealings, 
as  witnesses  to  his  character.  Two  of  them,  George  Waters 
of  Dominick  Street,  and  Thomas  Palmer  of  Peter's  Row,  gave 
him  the  best  possible  character.  Other  persons  who  knew 
him,  bore  testimony  also  to  his  honesty  and  industry. 

The  prisoner  having  confessed  his  guilt,  was,  by  the  blood- 
thirsty prosecuting  counsel,  induced  to  withdraw  his  plea  and 
put  himself  upon  his  trial.  The  proofs  being  manifest,  the 
jury  could  only  return  a  verdict  of  guilty — but  accompanied  it 
with  a  strong  recommendation  to  mercy.  Lord  Norbury,  who 
tried  him  (in  conjunction  with  Baron  George,  for  they  were 
ever  associated*),  said  the  recommendation  should  reach  the 
proper  quarter,  but  passed  sentence  of  death  upon  the  poor 
man  in  his  usual  way,  and  everybody  knows  what  that  was — 
harsh  and  unfeeling.  The  prisoner  was  then  reconducted  to 
Newgate. 

The  jury  separated  under  a  painful  impression,  notwith- 
standing their  recommendation  of  the  man  to  mercy,  for  they 
had  misgivings  about  the  Judge.  They  deemed  it  impossible, 
however,  that  under  the  circumstances  of  the  case  the  sen- 
tence would  be  carried  into  execution.  ''  He  will  escape," 
said  they — but  they  barely  hoped  it — '^  with  a  few.  months' 
imprisonment." 

There  happened  to  be  at  that  moment  in  Newgate,  a  poli- 
tical prisoner  whose  room  was  exactly  over  the  condemned 
cell.  This  was  the  late  Walter  Cox — who  two  years  after- 
wards emigrated  to  the  United  States,  and  established  a  news- 
paper in  New  York,  and  who,  at  the  period  of  Moore's  trial, 
was  undergoing  imprisonment  for  a  seditious  libel  published 
in  the  "  Irish   Magazine,"  of  which  he  was  the  editor  and 

*  It  was  tliey  who  tried  tho  unfortunate  and  lamented  Robert  Emmot, 
twelve  years  previously. 


ABROAD    AXD    AT    HOME.  321 

proprietor.  He  and  the  convict  Moore  met  frequently  in  the 
court-yard  every  day,  for  the  latter  was  allovred  every  species 
of  indulgence  by  the  humane,  however  bratal-looking  jailor, 
MacDowell.  It  happened  that  one  of  the  jurors  by  whom 
3Ioore  had  been  convicted,  called  upon  Cox  one  day  while 
walking  in  the  court-yard,  in  which  the  convict  was  at  that 
moment  speaking  through  a  grating  to  his  weeping  wife.  The 
juror  recognised  him,  and  spoke  of  him  to  Cox.  ''Poor  fel- 
low !"  said  the  latter;  ''  he  has  no  idea  of  his  danger." 

"What  danger?"' 

"  Of  beinsr  hanged." 

''  Oh,  impossible  !  "We  recommended  him  to  mercy,  and 
the  Judge  promised  to  lay  our  recommendation  before  the 
Lord-lieutenant." 

"  What  Judge  ?     Norhury  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Phew  !  You  don't  know  him.  That  man  will  be 
hanged." 

"  Surely  you  are  in  error?" 

''You'll  see." 

"No,  Cox.  It  is  not  possible.  You  speak,  excuse  me, 
you  speak  in  this  way,  under  a  feeling  of  hostility  caused  by 
the  sentence  his  Lordship  pronounced  against  yourself.  That 
is  all." 

"  Not  all,  or  rather,  not  at  all.  You  have  recommended 
this  poor  fool  to  mercy  !  The  mercy  of  the  Judge  !  '  There 
is  no  more  mercy  in  him,  than  there  is  milk  in  a  male 
tiger.' " 

"  It  was  not  to  the  mercy  of  the  Judge  we  recommended 
him,  but — " 

"  Why  did  you  not  acquit  the  prisoner  ?  It  was  the  jus- 
tice of  the  case.     He  was  a  mere  dupe." 

"  Why  not  acquit  him  ! — Because  he  had  confessed  that 
he  was  guilty." 

"  Guilty  of  what  ?  Of  uttering  an  instrument  of  exactly 
the  value  of  that  it  purported  to  represent.  The  bank  of 
which  it  pretended  to  be  an  engagement  is  insolvent." 

"  That  may  or  may  not  be,  but  my  mind  has  been  made 
uneasy  by  your  belief  that  this  poor  man  will  be  executed." 

"  He  will  be  hanged.    Remember  my  words.    Norbury — " 

"I  cannot  continue  this  discussion.  Youi  opinion  has 
14* 


822  THE    IRISH 

made  me  unhappy.  No  effort  of  mine  shall  be  omitted  to  save 
this  poor  creature." 

"  The  old  story :  cut  my  head  and  give  me  a  plaster.  Nor- 
bury— " 

"  I  must  leave  you.     Farewell." 

In  the  temper  of  mind  which  the  words  of  Cox  suggested, 
the  juror  returned  home  and  drew  up  a  strong  memorial  to 
the  Lord-lieutenant,  on  the  part  of  himself  and  his  fellow- 
jurors,*  which  they  unanimously  signed.  He  drew  up  a 
similar  one  from  the  grand  jury,  by  whom  the  bills  against 
the  prisoner  had  been  found.  He  procured  also  a  certificate 
from  the  magistrate.  Alderman  Darly,  who  had  committed  the 
prisoner,  stating  that  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  con- 
vict, Moore,  an  extensive  and  dangerous  gang  of  forgers  had 
been  brought  to  justice.  A  memorial  was  obtained  from 
Messrs.  Waters  and  Palmer,  and  others  who  had  dealings 
with  the  prisoner,  and  finally,  a  petition  from  the  proprietors  of 
the  grocery  establishment  who  had  been  his  prosecutors,  pray- 
ing a  commutation  of  the  sentence  pronounced  against  him. 
These  several  documents  the  juror  caused  to  be  presented  to 
the  Lord-lieutenant.  He  addressed  to  the  Attorney-general, 
Mr.  Saurin,  a  memorial  on  behalf  of  the  convict,  in  which 
were  enumerated  the  several  memorials,  certificate,  and  peti- 
tion, just  mentioned,  with  extracts  from,  or  analyses  of  them. 

Next  day  he  returned  to  Newgate,  and  found  matters  pre- 
cisely as  he  had  left  them  the  day  before.  The  prisoner  was 
again  at  the  grate,  speaking  to  his  poorly  clad  and  deplorable- 
looking  wife,  who  held  up  to  the  bars  a  little  girl,  of  six  or 
seven  years  old,  who  was  shoeless,  and  whom  he  kissed  and 
blessed.  Cox  was  in  the  precise  mood  which  had  made  the 
juror  so  uneasy,  or  rather,  he  now  spoke  more  despondingly 
of  the  case.  "Billy  MacDowell"  (the  jailor)  ''gave  him  a 
pint  of  porter  last  night,"  said  he,  "  and  made  him  so  happy 
that  Billy  burst  into  tears." 

''  Then  MacDowell  thinks  as  you  do,  that  the  law  will  take 
ita  course  ?" 

"  The  law  take  its  course !  I  tell  you  the  man  will  be 
hanged.     Norbury — " 

*  One  of  them — Mr.  John  C ,  an  eminent  stationer,  the  son  of  one 

of  the  leading  United  Irishmen  who  had  chosen  the  United  States  for  his 
place  of  exile — (being  banished  by  Act  of  Parliament) — is,  I  believe,  now 
carrying  on  business  in  the  capital  of  one  of  "The  States." 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  323 

The  juror,  further  stimulated  by  this  reiterated  prediction, 
again  hastih'  quitted  the  prison,  sought  George  Waters,  and, 
accompanied  by  him,  repaired  to  Lord  Norbury's  residence  in 
Great  Denmark  Street.  The  Judge  was,  luckily,  in  his  study, 
and  they  were  admitted  to  him.  Waters,  who  was  known  to 
his  Lordship,  stated  with  au  apology  the  object  of  their  intru- 
sion, and  the  steps  taken  on  behalf  of  the  convict. 

'"Waters,"  said  the  rubicund  Chief  Justice,  "you  are  an 

excellent,  kind-hearted  fellow;    so  are  you,  .      Your 

exertions  are  creditable  to  you.  You  are  an  humane,  philan- 
thropic person.  I  should  be  happy  to  concur  in  your  views 
and  your  solicitude,  but  the  laws  must  be  maintained." 

With  earnestness  and  feeling,  his  visiters  pleaded  the  pri- 
soner's innocence,  and  again  referred  to  the  memorials  addressed 
to  the  Duke  of  Richmond  and  to  Mr.  Saurin. 

"  I  know  all  about  it,"  said  he.  '^  This  is  Thursday;  the 
man  is  ordered  for  execution  on  Saturday.  A  council  is  to  be 
held  at  the  Castle  at  three  o'clock  to-morrow,  to  decide  upon 
his  case,  at  which  I  and  Saurin  are  to  be  present.  Meet  me 
at  the  Castle-yard  at  four,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  result." 

Mr.  Waters  and  the  juror  withdreAV.  The  latter  conceived 
little  hope,  from  the  manner  and  the  reputation  of  the  Judge. 
He  sent  for  the  wife  of  the  prisoner,  and  told  her  how  the 
matter  stood,  and  his  fears  that  all  his  exertions  would  prove 
in  vain.  Already  broken  down  by  poverty,  distress,  and 
anxiety,  she  fainted.  When  she  recovered  a  little,  the  juror 
recommended  her  to  take  some  rest,  and  to  be  sure  to  return 
to  him  at  four  o'clock  on  the  following  day,  when  perhaps  he 
might  have  good  news  for  her.  She  made  no  reply,  but  raised 
her  eyes  to  heaven,  and,  appearing  to  pray  mentally,  withdrew. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  the  juror 
repaired  to  the  Castle,  although  that  was  only  the  hour  fixed 
for  the  council.  He  saw  Mr.  Saurin,  and,  after  him.  Lord 
Norbury  arrive,  the  latter  on  horseback.  His  Lordship  saw 
the  juror  well,  for  he  had  approached  him  as  he  alighted,  but 
did  not  allow  his  eyes  to  meet  his  gaze ;  and  tapping  his  top- 
boots  with  his  whip,  and  puffing  from  his  inflated  cheeks  as 
usual,  he  ascended  the  staircase.  This,  his  non-recognition, 
struck  the  juror  as  ominous.  Agitated  and  uneasy,  he  walked 
for  an  hour  in  the  Castle-yard ;  then  went  out  upon  Cork  Hill, 
and  paced  to  and  fro  by  the  wing  of  the  Exchange  for  another 
hour.     The  delay  seemed  favourable.     It  was  therefore  with 


824  THE    IRISH 

something  like  hope  that  he  advanced  to  meet  Lord  Norbury 
as  he  issued  from  the  Castle-gate.  The  sombre  aspect  of  the 
Judge  struck  to  his  heart,  however.  The  latter  opened  the 
conversation,  continuing  nevertheless  to  walk  towards  Parlia- 
ment Street. 

"  You  are  a  kind,   excellent   fellow,   ,"   said    he. 

''  Every  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  documents  addressed 
by  you  to  his  Excellency.  We  have  weighed  them  all  well  3 
but  the  bankers  have  been  playing  the  devil." 

''My  Lord!" 

''  Yes ;  the  bankers  have  been  playing  the  devil.  They 
have  stated  to  government  that,  if  this  man  be  suffered  to 
escape,  they  will  never  prosecute  another.  The  law  must  take 
its  course." 

He  made  a  sort  of  bow  to  the  juror,  who,  in  a  state  of 
horror,  hung  upon  him  until  he  had  reached  a  saddler's  shop 
in  Parliament  Street,  into  which  he  suddenly  turned. 

Now,  fully  perceiving  how  desperate  was  the  case,  the  juror 
abandoned  all  intention  further  to  appeal  to  the  Judge.  He 
returned  to  his  home,  therefore,  and  found  in  the  hall  the  wife 
of  the  prisoner.  It  was  now  dark.  He  desired  that  she  should 
receive  some  refreshment,  of  which  he  told  her  she  would  have 
need,  for  there  was  a  little  journey  before  her.  He  then  sat 
down,  and  in  her  name  drew  up  a  memorial  to  the  Lord-lieu- 
tenant, repeating  his  former  statements.  This  finished,  he 
sent  for  a  hackney-coach,  and,  presenting  the  memorial  to  the 
poor  woman,  told  her  she  must  be  herself  the  bearer  of  it ; 
that  she  must  repair  to  the  Vice-R,egal  Lodge  in  Phoenix  Park, 
and  endeavour  by  some  means  to  obtain  admission  to  the  Lord- 
lieutenant,  and  place  it  in  his  hands.  "  If  that  be  found  im- 
possible," said  he,  "  see  the  Duchess  of  Richmond.  .  Tell  her 
your  story,  and  pray  her  to  take  charge  of  your  petition.  She 
is  charitable,  humane,  and  feeling,  and  will  do  all  in  her  power." 
He  then  directed  a  servant  to  accompany  the  unhappy  creature, 
who,  conceiving  hope  from  being  herself  employed  on  behalf 
of  her  husband,  departed  with  something  like  alacrity. 

Arrived  at  the  Vice-Regal  Lodge,  she  was  allowed  to  pene- 
trate to  the  hall.  She  was  there  told  that  his  Excellency  was 
engaged,  and  would  soon  go  to  dinner.  At  her  entreaty,  a 
servant  undertook,  however,  to  mention  to  his  Lord  her  arrival 
and  object.  He  soon  returned,  and  said  that  his  Excellency 
regretted  it  was-  not  in  his  power  to  interfere ;  that  the  matter 


ABKOAD    AND    AT    HOME.  825 

had  that  afternoon  been  considered  and  decided  in  council. 
'•'  Here  is  the  Duchess,  however,"  said  the  servant,  in  a  whis- 
per; ''speak  to  her." 

The  poor  woman  rushed  forward,  as  the  comely,  good- 
huraoured-lookiug  lady  crossed  the  hall,  proceeding  to  the 
dining-room ;  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  attempted  to  speak, 
but  failed.     She  held  up  the  petition,  however. 

"  What's  all  this?"  said  the  Duchess. 

The  matter  was  explained. 

Stooping  down,  and  raising  the  poor  woman,  she  said :  "  Give 
me  the  paper.  I  will  present  it ;  if  I  succeed,  you  will  see 
me  again;"  and,  instead  of  entering  the  salle-d-maiiger,  she 
passed  to  the  Duke's  room. 

A  delay  of  some  minutes  occurred.  At  length  a  female 
attendant,  instead  of  the  Duchess,  issued  from  the  room,  holding 
the  paper,  and  in  tears.  She  placed  it  in  one  of  the  hands 
of  the  supplicant,  who,  anticipating  the  truth,  was  gasping : 
into  the  other  she  poured  some  money,  and  ran  out  of  the  hall. 

The  man  was  hanged  next  day. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

La  puissance  des  rois  est  fondfie  sur  la  raison  et  sur  la  folie  du  peuple — 
et  bien  plus  sur  la  lolie.  La  plus  grande  et  la  plus  importante  choBe  du 
monde  a  pour  fondement  la  faiblesse. 

Pascal. 

HAVING,  however  faintly,  depicted  the  Irishman  of  the 
last  century  at  home — the  oppressor  and  the  oppressed — 
the  Judge — the  advocate  and  the  criminal — a  sketch  of  him 
in  his  playful  festive  and  domestic  moments  may  assist  the 
judgment  in  arriving  at  an  estimate  of  his  character. 

The  triumph  of  the  champions  of  Irish  Independence  in 
1782  was  complete,  but  the  victory  was  not  used  with  moder- 
ation. As  in  most  sublunary  aifairs  success  was  accompanied 
and  followed  by  intoxication,  until  it  produced  upon  the 
English  Cabinet  an  impression  which  is  said  to  have  suggested 
and  governed  all  its  measures  thenceforward. 

The  history  of  the  two  or  thi-eo  years  which  succeeded  to 


326  THE   IRISH 

the  Declaration  of  Independence,  contains  no  very  striking 
fact  illustrative  of  this  opinion.  "  The  nation  seemed  drunk," 
said  Sir  Jonah  Barrington  to  me  in  Paris,  fifteen  years  ago, 
"  and  having  participated  in  the  struggle,  I  took  my  part  in 
the  jubilation  ;  but  we  were  wrong.  Instead  of  proclaiming 
our  success,  we  should  have  dissembled  our  estimate  of  it ;  in- 
stead of  announcing  projects  for  further  steps  towards  com- 
plete independence  of  the  sister  kingdom,  and  for  reducing 
our  liaison  with  her  to  a  mere  federal  connexion,  we  should 
have  assumed  an  attitude  of  content,  and  have  used  every 
possible  means  for  removing  from  England  and  her  govern- 
ment all  sense  of  soreness  from  the  concessions  we  had,  as  it 
were,  torn  from  her.  Instead  of  revelling  in  the  interval 
which  succeeded  to  our  fortunate  struggle,  we  should  have  ap- 
plied all  our  sagacity  and  all  our  energies  to  insure  to  ourselves 
at  least  the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  the  fniits  of  it,  and  to 
which  we  ought,  in  fact,  to  have  limited  our  views,  for  that 
time.  2lais,  que  voulez-vous?  In  what  history  can  we  find 
examples  of  youth  evincing  self-denial  and  moderation  ?  And 
we  were  a  young  people  then.  Instead  of  consolidating 
the  stracture  we  had  raised,  and  by,  among  other  means, 
reconciling  to  its  aspect  those  at  whose  expense  it  may  be  said 
we  had  erected  it,  we  wounded  their  self-love ;  we  provoked 
their  regrets  for  the  loss  they  had  sustained,  and  strengthened 
their  resolution  to  resume  possession  at  the  first  possible  instant, 
and  by  all  practicable  means. 

"■  In  that  moment  of  aben-ation,  we  forgot  that  we  had 
attained  to  our  end,  not  so  much  through  the  preponderance 
of  our  own  strength,  as  because  of  the  momentary  decrepitude 
of  our  adversary.  We  forgot  the  cares  and  embarrassments 
of  which  the  Peace  of  1783  had  relieved  England,  and  we 
left  out  of  view  the  physical  force  which  had  returned  to  her, 
of  which  in  order  to  maintain  a  long  and  distant  foreign  war 
she  had  been  obliged  to  divest  herself.     Oh,  wirra  !  wirra  !" 

I  am  unable  to  pronounce  upon  the  amount  of  credit  due 
to  this  view  of  the  question.  Well  or  ill-founded,  it  has  been 
a  hundred  times  expressed  in  my  hearing  by  contemporaries 
of  the  men  of  '82 ;  well  or  ill-founded  there  would  appear  to 
have  been  suggested  to  England,  by  the  declaration  of  Irish 
Independence,  and  by  the  conduct  of  the  popular  party  subse- 
quently, fear  for  the  connexion ;  an  impression  which  deter- 
mined, I  have  always  heard,  a  defensive  attitude  in  the  first 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  327 

instance,  and  ultimately  measures  for  the  recovery  of  British 
domination  in  Ireland,  and  then  for  secvxring  its  permanency. 

History  is  open  to  any  reader,  who  may  satisfy  himself  on 
this  point,  should  he  question  the  correctness  of  this  view  of 
it,  and  for  which  I  do  not  vouch.  He  would  not,  however, 
be  able  to  find  in  history  many  little  incidents  held  at  the  time 
to  make  for  the  position  laid  down  by  the  friend  (Sir  Jonah 
Barrington)  above  quoted,  one  of  which  is  somewhat  startling, 
to  wit :  the  imputed  appointment  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland  to 
the  viceroyalty  of  Ireland,  with  a  view  to  the  demoralization 
of  its  patriotic  aristocracy,  and,  by  diverting  the  public  mind 
from  grave  concerns,  render  the  resumption  of  British  power 
practicable  and  facile. 

The  obvious  absurdity  of  this  hypothesis  must  not,  however, 
deprive  it  of  all  claim  to  credence.  We  who  saw  subsequently 
the  delivery  of  Ireland,  bound  hand  and  foot,  to  a  triumvirate 
nearly  despicable  as  statesmen,  John  Beresford,  John  Fitz- 
Gibbon,  and  John  Foster,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  to  the 
first  of  those  persons,  to  be  dealt  with  at  their  or  his  good 
pleasure  ("judgment"  would  be  a  misnomer),  we  who  have 
witnessed  this  expedient  of  the  British  government  of  that 
day,  hesitate  to  regard  the  mission  ascribed  to  the  Duke  of 
Rutland  as  incredible. 

Whatever  its  motive,  he  arrived  in  Dublin  before  he  had 
attained  to  his  thirtieth  year,  accompanied  by  his  lovely  Duch- 
ess, then  in  her  eight  or  nine  and  twentieth  year.  The  Duke 
possessed  a  princely  fortune,  a  captivating  countenance,  and 
well-formed  person.  He  was  of  the  most  amiable  temper,  and 
endowed  with  an  overflowing  fund  of  good  humour.  He  was 
afi'able,  gay,  gallant,  high-bred,  high-spirited,  and  utterly  re- 
gardless of  expense. 

The  Duchess  was  marvellou.sly  handsome,  spirited,  and 
dashing  (she  was  a  Beaufort),  the  head  of  society,  the  leader 
of  fashion.  I  have  heard  that  it  would  not  be  hyperbole  to 
apply  to  her  Burke's  celebrated  description  of  the  unfortunate 
Marie  Antoinette — than  whom,  however,  .she  was  more  regu- 
larly beautiful.  It  is  needless,  therefore,  to  observe  that  this 
noble  couple  became  the  admired  of  all  admirers  in  Ireland — 
arriving  there,  moreover,  after  a  long  interregnum  of  dull- 
ness at  the  Castle — for  it  is  notorious  that  in  the  forty  years 
that  intervened  between  the  viceroyalty  of  the  courtly  Earl  of 
Chesterfield,  and  that  of  the  gay,  the  gallant,  and  the  rattling 


328  THE   IRISH 

Duke  of  Rutland,  there  are  no  "  remains,"  except  a  joke  or 
two  of  Lord  Townsend. 

If,  therefore,  it  ever  entered  into  the  heads  of  those  whom 
the  Duke  represented  in  Ireland,  to  found  a  convivial  school 
in  that  country,  and  to  allure  its  inhabitants  into  expensive 
habits,  as  means  for  impairing  their  moral  and  physical  system 
— imitated  (at  least  practised)  by  Napoleon  fifteen  years  after- 
wards in  respect  of  the  Englishmen  so  foully  detained  in 
France  upon  the  rupture  of  the  peace  of  Amiens — the  Duke 
ascertained,  at  his  first  step,  that  his  contemplated  disciples 
were  already  adepts,  with  heads  of  adamant,  and  consequently 
incapable  of  conviction  by  wine  and  wassail.  He  plunged 
fearlessly,  nevertheless,  into  the  stream,  followed  by  his  jolly 
companions,  and  was  engulfed  in  it.  Many  of  his  proselytes 
also  succumbed,  but  most  of  them  survived  him. 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 

If  I  had  a  thousand  sons,  the  first  human  principle  I  would  teach  them, 
Ehould  be — to  forswear  thin  potations,  and  addict  themselves  to  sack. 

Henry  IV.  (2d  Part). 

IT  is  reported  that  the  first  inkling  that  the  Duke  of  Rut- 
land had  of  the  qualities  of  the  parties,  whom  rumour 
asserted  he  had  been  commissioned  to  initiate  into  the  plea- 
sures of  the  table,  was  afforded  him  in  an  after-dinner  tete- 
a-tete,  discussion  with  one  of  the  kindest  hearts,  honestest 
heads,  and  most  racy  wits  and  purest  patriots  of  Ireland — Sir 
Hercules  Langrishe.  If  that  were  indeed  the  Duke's  covp 
d'essai,  it  was  conclusive  of  the  fate  of  the  alleged  primary 
object  of  his  mission.  To  lead  Sir  Hercules  in  the  circulation 
and  absorption  of  the  bottle,  was  about  as  hopeless  an  attempt 
as  would  be  an  effort  to  induce  him  to  renounce  his  love  of 
Ireland,  and  to  concur  in  the  sacrifice  of  her  independence. 
His  public  character  has  been  drawn  in  every  record  of  the 
conflict  maintained  in  the  Irish  Parliament  with  the  advocates 
of  the  union.  The  following  item  in  the  list  of  his  capabili- 
ties, portrays  the  venerable  patriot  in  his  domestic  garb, 
having  doffed  the  toga  : — 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  329 

Some  friends  were  snown  into  his  dining-parlour  one  even- 
ing, long  after  that  which  they  knew  to  be  his  dinner-hour. 
They  found  him  alone  in  company  with  half  a  dozen  ''  dead 
men"  (empty  bottles).  He  had  just  poured  into  his  glass  the 
last  drop  of  claret  which  one  of  them  had  contained.  "  What  1 
Sir  Hercules  I"  exclaimed  the  intruders,  astounded  by  the 
terrible  show ;  "  surely  you  have  not  got  through  these  with- 
out assistance  !" 

"  Oh,  no  !"  said  the  Baronet.  "  I  had  the  aid  of  a  bottle 
of  Madeira  I" 

This  anecdote  I  heard  from  Thomas  Moore,  one  day  after 
dinner,  at  the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  Thomas  Barnes.  Re- 
lated by  ]\Ioore  it  was  highly  effective ;  but  that  which  was 
most  admirable  belonging  to  it,  was  the  train  laid  by  the  poet 
for  its  explosion — proving  how  a  man  improves  by  reading. 

Moore  had  shown,  in  his  Life  of  Sheridan,  how  skilfully 
the  wit  visuall}-  led,  with  the  art  of  a  consummate  dramatist, 
to  the  inti'oduction  of  previously  prepared  points,  or  epigrams, 
in  Parliament  or  society.  On  the  occasion  of  which  I  speak, 
Moore  had  recourse  himself  to  a  precisely  similar  ruse,  pro- 
fessing to  be  reminded  of  the  anecdote  of  Sir  Hercules  Lan- 
grishe  I  have  just  related,  by  the  casual  occurrence  in  the 
conversation  of  the  words  "  aid"  and  "  assist,"  and  which  he 
showed  were  "  simile  non  est  idem." 

Sheridan  and  Moore  !  To  remind  the  world  that  Ireland 
produced,  in  a  century,  not  only  Grattan,  Curran,  Burke, 
Flood,  Francis,  Wellington ;  but  these  two  illustrious  orators 
and  poets  (for  Moore  was  an  orator)  were  perhaps  sufficient  to 
warrant  my  firm  conviction  that  their  now  suffering,  impover- 
ished, divided  native  land,  was  not — is  not — the  degraded 
country  which,  in  consequence  of  partial  outrages,  even  atro- 
cious though  they  be,  public  writers  of  the  present  day  dare 
to  represent  her.  Each  was  an  orator,  each  a  poet,  each  a 
patriot.  The  love  of  Ireland  which  imbued  the  Minstrel  Boy 
burned  not  more  fiercely  in  his  breast,  than  in  the  bosom  of 
Bichard  Brinsley  Sheridan ;  and  yet,  one  of  Sheridan's  splen- 
did dramatic  productions — ''  The  Rivals" — was  hissed,  on  its 
first  representation,  by  Irishmen,  who  mistook  for  sneer  that 
which  is  its  antipodes — raillery;  good-humoured,  playful 
raillery. 

Upon  one  occasion,  speaking  of  songs,  Sheridan  said:  he, 
one  of    the  triumvirate   Irishmen  (Sheridan,  O'Keeffe,  and 


330  THE   IRISH 

Moore),  wto  must  be  placed  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  Ivric 
poets — ''  I  would  rather  be  the  author  of  Hosier's  Ghost  than 
of  the  Annals  of  Tacitus." 

This  liberal  fi^re  of  speech  it  was,  probably,  which  sug- 
gested the  following  fine  compliment  of  Byron  to  Sheridan's 
genius.  It  is  a  passage  in  the  diary  of  Byron's  six  months' 
residence  in  London,  in  1812-13. 

"  Saturday,  Deer.  ISth,  1813. 

'*  Lord  Holland  told  me  a  curious  piece  of  sentimentality  in 
Sheridan.  The  other  night  we  were  all  delivering  our 
respective  and  various  opinions  on  him  and  other  '  hommcs 
marqiians,'  and  mine  was  this  : — '  Whatever  Sheridan  has  done 
or  chosen  to  do,  has  been  par  excellence,  always  the  best  of  its 
kind.  He  has  written  the  best  comedy  (School  for  Scandal), 
the  best  opera  (the  Duenna,  in  my  mind  far  before  that  Saint 
Giles's  Lampoon,  the  Beggar's  Opera),  the  best  farce  (the 
Critic,  it  is  only  too  good  for  an  afterpiece),  and  the  best 
address  (Monologue  on  Garrick).  and,  to  crown  all,  delivered 
the  vert/  best  oration  (the  famous  Begum  Speech),  ever  con- 
ceived or  heard  in  this  country  I'  Somebody  told  Sheridan 
this  the  next  day,  and  he  burst  into  tears  I — Poor  Brinsley ! 
If  they  were  tears  of  pleasure,  I  would  rather  have  said  those 
few  but  sincere  words  than  have  written  the  Iliad  or  made  his 
own  celebrated  Philippic.  Nay,  his  own  comedy  never  grati- 
fied me  more  than  to  hear  that  he  had  derived  a  moment's  gra- 
tification from  any  praise  of  mine,  humble  as  it  must  appear 
to  '  my  elders  and  my  betters.'  " 

To  this  fine  imperishable  tribute  I  would  with  unafi'ected 
humUity  and  the  utmost  sincerity  pray  leave  to  add,  that  I 
would  rather  own  the  copyright  of  a  sentiment  of  Sheridan,  in 
his  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  the  comedy  of  •'  The  Rivals," 
than  of  all  the  orations  he  ever  delivered,  and  of  all  the  bon- 
mots  he  ever  uttered. 

''It  is  net  without  pleasure,"  thus  this  sentence  runs, 
"that  I  catch  at  an  opportunity  of  justifying  myself  from  the 
charge  of  intending  any  national  reflection  in  the  character  of 
Sir  Lucius  0' Trigger.  If  any  gentlemen  opposed  the  piece 
from  that  idea,  I  thank  them  sincerely  for  their  opposition ; 
and  if  the  condemnation  of  this  comedy  (however  misconceived 
the  provocation)  could  have  added  one  spark  to  the  decaying 
flame  of  national  attachment  to  the  country  supposed  to  be 
reflected  on,  I  should  have  been  happy  in  its  fate  ;  and  mis^ht, 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  331 

•with  truth,  have  boasted,  that  it  had  done  more  real  service 
in  its  failure,  than  the  successful  morality  of  a  thousand  stage 
novels  will  ever  effect." 


CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

I  hiivo  sounded  the  very  base  string  of  humility.  I  am  so  good  a  pro- 
ficient in  one  quarter  of  an  hour  that  I  can  drink  with  any  tinker  in  his 
own  language  through  life. 

Shakspeare. 

LET  US,  however,  return  to  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 
If  his  first  conception  of  the  enduring  qualities  of  an 
Irish  convivial  companion  were  derived  from  the  source  I  have 
just  indicated,  further  investigation  ought  to  have  appeared  to 
him  superfluous.  By  another  class,  with  whom  almost  im- 
mediately upon  his  arrival  in  Dublin  he  came  in  contact,  big 
appreciation  of  the  Irish  character  in  such  respect  was,  sup- 
posing it  not  yet  formed,  perfected. 

He  accepted  an  invitation  to  the  inauguration  dinner  at  the 
Mayoralty-house  of  a  new  Lord  Mayor.  He  found  near  him  at 
table  the  Lord  Chancellor,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, several  of  the  judges,  and  many  rural  and  city  magnates. 
Seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  Mayor,  the  Duke  was 
the  special  object  of  that  functionary's  hospitable  solicitude, 
and  also  of  his  unintermitting  care.  ''Dyeing  scarlet"  was 
the  order  of  the  day  at  those  civic  assemblies,  as  well  as  at 
those  in  still  more  elevated  life.     The  Anacreontic  invitation  : 

"  Fill  your  glass — I  hato  to  seo 
An  empty  or  a  full  one," 

was  not  exactly  the  ordinance  prescribed  or  followed  in  that 
vicinity.  The  dictum  indicated  to  the  noble  stranger  appeared 
to  him  unobjectionable  and  sounded  liberally, — it  merely 
said, 

"  Fill  as  you  please,  but  drink  what  you  fill. 

The  Duke  found,  however,  that  this  quiet,  just,  and  reason- 
able injunction  was  only  theoretical,  and  that  it  was  superseded 


332  THE    IRISH 

by  the  rule  absolute  of  his  despotic  host,  which  substituted 
for  it, 

"Fill  every  glass  and  drain  it." 

To  seek  to  evade  this  precept  was  sure  to  bring  the  culprit 
into  trouble.  So  complete  was  the  espionnage  exercised,  that 
hardly  had  the  crime  been  consummated,  when  the  criminal 
was  denounced.  In  most  cases  summary  punishment,  in  the 
shape  of  overflowing  bumpers,  followed. 

The  Duke's  first  infringement  of  the  order  in  question  was 
mildly  reproved  by  this  brief  and  friendly  admonition  from  his 
watchful  entertainer :  ''  Wipe  your  eye,  my  Lord."  The 
Duke  literally  complied,  and  threw  the  hilarious  citizens  into 
ecstasies.  Upon  a  subsequent  inadvertence,  which  consisted 
in  pouring  wine  into  a  glass  not  entirely  empty,  he  received 
the  following  intelligible  hint :  "  No  heel-taps,  your  Grace." 
His  third  and  last  offence,  that  of  not  filling  up  to  the  brim, 
was  thus  reproved  in  the  severe  stentorian  voice  of  the  late 
Lord  Mayor,  indignant  at  an  innovation  countenanced,  he 
feared,  by  his  unworthy  successor  :  "  No  skylight,  my  Lord  !" 

That  night  produced  the  Duke's  abdication  of  the  role  of 
tempter — if  he  had  undertaken  to  act  such  part — his  aban- 
donment of  all  designs  upon  the  heads  of  those  he  was 
charged  with  governing.  How  far  the  Irish  were  otherwise 
contaminated  by  the  illustrious  companion  thrown,  unhappily 
for  him,  into  the  midst  of  a  society  such  as  may  be  estimated 
from  these  impei'fect  notes,  I  have  never  learned.  I  am  inclined 
to  the  charitable  belief  that  he  was  as  much  sinned  against  as 
sinning:  but  it  is  an  indisputable  fact  that  during  the  Vice- 
royalty  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  dissipation  in  every  sense 
proceeded  to  an  extent  not  previously  observable  in  Ireland. 
The  worship  of  Bacchus,  in  particular,  received  from  his 
example  an  impulse  of  which  it  was  supposed  incapable — a 
momentum  irresistible,  and  which  continued  to  render  popular 
the  pleasures  of  the  bottle  for  five-and-twenty  or  thirty  years 
afterwards.  Gradually,  however,  from  the  hourly  decreasing 
number  of  votaries,  through  death,  absenteeism,  or  diminished 
means,  the  metropolis  exhibited  in  a  subsequent  period,  symp- 
toms of  decaying  zeal ;  but  the  provinces  stood  firm. 

A  few  years  since,  an  advertisement  appeared  in  a  London 
paper,  announcing  that  '^a  free  public-house,  in  a  hard- 
drinking  neighbourhood,"  was  in  the  market.     Every  part  of 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  333 

Ireland  might  in  my  time  have  claimed  that  enviable  charac- 
teristic. Every  private  dwelling  vied  with  its  neighbour  in 
performing  the  rites  of  hospitality  as  respected  bed  and  board 
— the  former  never  being  reached  by  a  guest  while  he  retained 
the  power  to  swallow,  for  it  was  a  strict  rule  that  the  one  party 
should  press  his  friends  and  that  the  other  should  exclaim, 


"  T  take  your  courtesy,  by  Heaven, 
As  freely  as  'tis  nobly  given." 


The  jovial  hours  spent  at  the  table  were  wound  up  under  it  in 
most  instances. 

Strange  to  say,  men  lived  long,  nevertheless,  under  this 
system.  Sir  Hercules  Langrishe  appeared,  when  I  last  saw 
him,  a  man  in  very  advanced  age.  The  gay,  the  conviyial, 
the  rattling,  facetious,  and  the  friendly  Tom  O'Meara  was 
between  eighty  and  ninety  when  he  died. 

A  well-known  personage,  ''  clothed  in  the  unspotted  ermine 
of  the  bench,"  as  he  himself  termed  it,  and  of  whom  we  have 
lately  spoken,  namely,  John  Toler,  first  Lord  Norbury  (yclept 
by  his  commentators  Nero  Norbury),  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Court  of  Common  Pleas — hard-headed  as  hard-hearted — was 
in  his  eighty-sixth  year  when  he  died,  having  been,  in  the 
early  part  of  his  life,  one  of  the  hardest-drinking  men  of  his 
time.  I  ought  to  observe,  however,  that,  like  the  warm- 
hearted Tom  O'Meara,  ''  ould  Towler"*  was,  nearly  to  the  day 
of  his  death,  a  fox-hunter.  His  lordship's  "  Brother  Boyd," 
whose  name  entered  into  a  figure  which  intimated  that  the 
person  designated  by  it  was  well  up  in  the  wind,  was  an  old 
man  when  he  died.  A  person  was  deemed  quite  comfortable, 
superior  to  all  the  ills  of  this  life,  who  could  be  said  to  be  as 
"  sober  as  Judge  Boyd." 

Lord  Muskerry,  their  contemporary  worshipper  of  the  rosy 
god,  who  on  his  death-bed  consoled  himself  with  the  reflec- 
tion, that  he  had  nothing  to  accuse  himself  of,  having  never 
denied  himself  anything,  was  between  seventy  and  eighty 
when  he  died. 

"  Happy  fellow !"  observed  his  lordship  one  day,  on  seeing 
a  hackney  coachman  lying  dead  drunk,  and  dozing  on  the 
steps  of  his  lordship's  house;   ''happy,  enviable  fellow!  you 

*  One  of  George  Nugent  Reynolds's  "Alphabets"  cpntained  these  linos:— 

T  was  a  Toler — hark  forward  !  's  the  cry; 
But,  instead  of  a  stap;,  'ti?  a  m;in  that  must  die. 


834  THE    IRISH 

have  the  privilege  of  getting  drunk  three  times  a  day,  without 
losing  caste !" 

I  lament  my  inability  to  give  a  pen  and  ink  sketch  of  the 
most  wonderful  of  them  all,  in  performance  and  in  longevity, 
considering  all  he  had  gone  through — George  Butler,  who,  for 
fifty  years  previously  to  my  meeting  him,  had  never  dined 
from  home  on  a  Sunday,  and  never  entered  his  own  doors  on 
any  other  day  before  four  o'clock  A.  M.  He  was,  like  Mr. 
Cerberus,  three  gentlemen  in  one — Bacchus,  Anacreon,  and 
Momus.* 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

Faith,  sir,  we  were  carousing  till  the  second  cock. 


Macbeth. 


IF  degeneracy  menaced  the  capital,  the  science  of  living  fast 
and  living  well  was  carried  to  its  acme  in  the  provinces,  up 
to  the  latest  period  of  my  knowledge  of  them.  In  the  county 
of  Roscommon,  for  example,  a  Mr.  St.  George  Caulfield  came 
of  age  some  forty  or  fifty  years  since,  and  into  the  receipt  of 
three  or  four  hundred  thousand  pounds  in  money,  the  accu- 
mulation of  a  very  long  minority ;  and  also  into  the  possession 
of  landed  estates  of,  I  have  heard,  the  annual  value  of  eight- 
and-twenty  or  thirty  thousand  pounds — a  fortune  amassed  by 
his  grandfather,  who  had  been  a  distinguished  ornament  of  the 
bench.  This  thoughtless  young  man  suggested  in  his  county 
a  taste  which,  even  in  my  time,  was  dem'onstrated  by  visits 
from  the  sheriff,  and  frequent  mention  in  the  records  of  the 
Court  of  Chancery. 

Mr.  Caulfield  had  only  just,  like  Mr.  Toots,  "  come  into 
his  property,"  when  he  plunged  into  extravagance  on  a  scale 
never  before  witnessed  in  Ireland.  Servants,  hounds,  horses, 
carriages,  table,  luxury,  profusion  in  every  possible  shape; 
such  were  the  means  by  which,  in  the  brief  space  of  ten  or 
twelve  years,  he  contrived  to  squander  upwards  of  a  million 

*  A  man  of  nearly  equal  celebrity  in  the  convivial  world,  Jack  Sweet- 
man,  the  Hatter,  who  lives  in  the  memory  of  the  elder  denizens  of  Dublin, 
attained  to  the  age  of  eighty. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  335 

sterling,  and  unlike  the  hons  vivans  just  enumerated,  to  bring 
himself  to  the  grave.  One  specimen  of  the  means  by  which 
he  arrived  at  these  ends  will  suffice. 

He  arris'ed  in  Paris  during  the  short  Peace  of  1802,  and 
distinguished  himself  on  the  veiy  next  Sunday  after,  by  a 
turn-out  of  half  a  dozen  carriages,  perfect  copies  of  those  of 
the  First  Consul,  and  with  the  requisite  number  of  servants 
clothed  in  Kendal  green  (Xapoleon's  livery).  This  folly  was 
immediately  followed  by  a  prohibition  to  repeat  it  from  the 
Minister  of  Police;  but  within  forty-eight  hours  afterwards  a 
similarly  nmnerous  cortege,  with  coachmen  and  lacqueys  in  the 
livery  of  the  late  royal  family  of  France  was  produced  by  the 
Irish  millionaire,  and  was  punished  by  an  immediate  order  to 
the  spendthrift  to  quit  Paris  within  eight  hours,  and  France 
in  three  days. 

This  expression  of  Napoleon's  humour  and  impatience 
saved  the  object  of  it  twelve  years'  detention  in  France;  for 
before  the  end  of  the  week  following  his  expulsion,  the  Peace 
of  Amiens  was  broken,  and  hostilities  recommenced  between 
France  and  England. 

Thus  compelled  to  limit  the  display  of  his  extravagance  to 
the  United  Kingdom,  the  unfortunate  young  man  only  changed 
the  scene,  but  not  the  amount,  of  his  expenditure.  Not  merely 
the  county  of  Roscommon,  but  the  whole  province  of  Con- 
naught,  rang  with  his  exploits  in  the  demolition  of  his  hand- 
some fortune.  His  denomination  of  port  and  claret  as  "  kitchen 
wine,"  was  repeated  with  admiration,  but  neither  his  fortune 
nor  constitution  could  long  sustain  the  inroads  upon  them 
which  he  committed.  His  decline  in  each  sense  was  rapid. 
He  filled  an  early  grave  after  having  dissipated  every  shilling 
he  had  inherited,  or  could  raise  by  mortgage  or  annuity;  and 
after  having  by  his  example  produced  imitations,  which  I  am 
told  have  led  to  the  compulsory  sales  of  half  the  estates  of  his 
county. 

The  witty  and  sarcastic  George  Nugent  Reynolds,  himself 
a  Connaught  man  (as  on  a  celebrated  occasion  he  reminded 
Lord  Clare),  thus  wrote  of  the  taste  for  expense  prevalent  in 
that  province  at  the  time  in  question,  and  its  consequences  : — 

''There  is  not  a  hogshead  of  port  that  crosses  the  bridge 
of  Athlone"  (entering  Connaught  from  Leinster),  "  which  has 
not  a  custcdiam  in  the  bottom  of  it." 

Hard  drinking,  although  fast  giving  way,  still  struggled 


336  THE    IRISH 

for  existence  so  lately  as  ia  the  year  1817  ;  and  to  show  this 
I  shall  here  introduce  an  example. 

When  in  that  year  Sir  Francis  Burdett  visited  Ireland  with 
the  admirable  purpose  of  supporting,  in  a  moment  of  unex 
ampled  prostration,  a  friend,  Roger  O'Connor,  whom  he 
believed  utterly  incapable  of  the  foul  crime  of  which  he  was 
accused,  and  having  by  his  presence  very  powerfully  con- 
tributed to  that  friend's  acquittal,  he  was  besieged  with 
invitations  from  the  greater  portion  of  the  remaining  resident 
gentry  of  the  kingdom.  Having  accepted  some  of  these,  Sir 
Francis  found,  not  only  that  his  fame  as  a  fox-hunter  had 
preceded  him,  but  that  it  was  transcended  by  his  reputation 
for  capability  of  enduring  the  attacks  of  the  most  eminent 
bacchanalians  of  the  day.  This  was  demonstrated  to  him  in 
an  especial  manner  on  his  visit  to  Kilkenny  at  the  moment 
when  the  celebrated  private  theatrical  company,  comprising 
Richard  Power,  Thomas  Moore,  Wrexon  Beecher,  George 
Rothe,  Corry,  &c.,  were  members,  supported  by  Misses  O'Neill 
(afterwards  Lady  Beecher)  and  Walstein,  were  performing. 
Sir  Francis  was  invited  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  Kilkenny 
to  a  social  party,  including  the  most  distinguished  men  and 
the  best  heads  of  the  country.  To  do  honour  to  their  guest, 
by  testing  his  qualities,  a  chairman  for  the  banquet  was  chosen 
of  approved  capacity  and  sustaining  power  (an  admired  mem- 
ber— erifre-nous — of  a  profession  in  which  such  qualification  is 
not  indispensable,  in  a  word,  '"'a  jolly  buck  parson,"  as  the 
song  says).  "  Accordingly  at  it  they  went,"  said  a  friend  to 
me,  who  was  present  at  the  tournament,  the  president 
challenging  the  baronet  from  the  post,  and  prodigious  was  the 
quantity  of  wine  spilt  in  the  course  of  the  evening.  Beset  on 
all  hands.  Sir  Francis  accepted  every  provocation — gallantly 
threw  in  bumper  after  bumper,  until  the  contest  finished  from 
sheer  fatigue — but  "  England's  pride  and  Westminster's  glory" 
came  off  victorious,  and  with  glowing  though  not  flying  colours. 
That  is,  he  rose  from  the  table  flushed  with  wine,  if  not  with 

victory,  and  erect  and  firm.     When  he  entered  Mrs. 's 

box   at  the  theatre  immediately  afterwards,  he  bore  no  other 
mark  of  the  recent  conflict. 


ABROAD  AND  AT   HOME.  8S7 


CHAPTER  LXXY. 

L'homme  di?parait  ici-bas  cnmroe  la  lime,  qui,  vers  le  matin,  se  pr6- 
cipite,  eu  un  moment,  derriere  la  montagne. 

French  version  of  a  Chinese  Proverb, 

THE  round  of  pleasure  of  which  Dublin  Castle  was  tho 
centre  durins;  the  Rutland  reicrn  seems,  from  the  tradi- 
tious  it  left  among  all  ranks,  and  their  repetition  with  undis- 
Rembled  admiration  and  delight  by  those  who  partook  of  or 
witnessed  them,  to  have  been  as  interminable  as  intoxicating. 
The  incidents  of  the  festive  board,  the  magnificent  cavalcade, 
the  adventures  of  the  Duke  in  the  pvirsuit  of  enjoyment,  the 
dazzling  beauty  of  the  Duchess,  and  the  splendour  and  gayety 
of  her  entourdge  and  suite,  occupied  the  whole  Irish  world. 
The  Duke,  I  should  observe,  did  not  confine  his  search  for 
diversion  to  his  own  sphere.  His  voyages  of  discovery  to  lands 
that  did  not  unfortunately  remain  unknown,  were  chronicled, 
yet  without  producing,  as  far  as  I  have  ever  heard,  an  expres- 
sion of  disapprobation.  His  wild  oats  were  thickly  and  lavishly 
f^own.  A  vulume  might  in  fact  be  written  on  his  eccentriciliea 
and  adventures.  None  of  them,  however,  displayed  absolute 
vice. 

Whether  an  increased  amount  of  demoralization  really  be- 
came perceptible  from  the  indulgences  then  the  order  of  the 
day  and  night  at  the  Irish  Court,  I  am  unable  to  pronounce; 
but  I  believe  it  would  be  hazardous  to  deny  that  in  that  gay 
reign  was  laid  the  foundation  of  that  sweeping,  and,  in  its 
general  effects,  lamentable  measure,  the  Ihicumbered  ]']state3 
(Ireland)  Bill.  Every  man  became  expensive,  extravagant, 
and  reckless.  The  contagion,  because  of  their  wide  separation 
from  the  Court  and  the  aristocracy,  did  not  then,  nor  for  many 
years  afterwards,  reach  the  middle  classes ;  but  from  the  mo- 
ment when  the  Union  provoked  the  emigration  of  the  aristo- 
cracy and  the  wealthy,  the  disease  broke  out  in  a  new  place, 
and  produced  the  natural  effects  of  imitation  of  failings  and 
of  indulgences,  practised  with  comparative  impunity  by  those 
possessing  real  means  from  actual  income,  or  its  anticipation 
15 


338  THE    IKISII 

by  mortgage.  Their  mansions,  their  habits,  and  their  weak- 
nesses devolved  upon  their  substitutes.  This  is,  however,  an 
anachronism  here. 

A  work,  edited,  or  rather  written,  it  is  to  be  lamented,  by 
Amyas  Griffith,  who  was  capable  of  better  things,  contains  an 
alleged  hon-mot  of  a  certain  Mrs.  Leeson,  alias  "  Peg  Plunkit," 
of  that  day,  and  one  or  two  other  imputed  incidents  of  an 
unfavourable  character,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the 
"calemboui'"  at  least  was  sheer  invention.  It  is  perfectly 
true,  however,  that  among  his  other  freaks,  the  Duke  knighted 
an  innkeeper,  Cuffe,  of  Athlone,  one  night,  in  his  cups ;  and 
that  when,  in  the  morning,  repenting  the  sally,  he  requested 
mine  host  to  say  nothing  about  it,  the  latter  replied,  "I  should 
be  most  happy  to  oblige  your  Grace,  but  unfortunately  I  men- 
tioned it  last  night  to  Lady  Cuffe,  and  it  is  over  the  whole 
town  by  this  time." 

Another  amusing  case  made  considerable  noise  about  the 
same  time. 

One  day  he  rode  out  on  horseback,  to  pay  a  morning  risit 
to  Lord  Loftus,  afterwards  Earl  and  Marquis  of  Ely,  at  Rath- 
farnham  Castle ;  considerably  in  advance  of  his  attendants,  he 
entered  the  gate  and  rode  straight  up  to  the  house.  It  was 
not  yet  two  o'clock.  Some  workmen  employed  to  repair  or  em- 
bellish the  castle,  had  dined  and  were  lazily  waiting  the  hour 
of  two  to  resume  their  labours,  lying  at  full  length  on  the 
grass  in  the  lawn,  enjoying  their  siesta.  Having  hastily 
alighted,  the  Duke  called  to  one  of  them  to  come  and  hold  his 
horse. 

"Hold  the  devil!"  said  the  man,  rudely,  because  of  the 
affront  offered  to  his  quality  of  mechanic.  "It  is  but  one 
man's  work — hold  him  yourself." 

"Who  are  you,  you  rascal?"  asked  the  Duke,  approaching 
him  with  an  air  of  mock  severity. 

"I'm  as  good  a  man  as  you.  I  am  a  plasterer,"  said  he, 
rising  on  his  elbow. 

"  What's  your  name,  you  villain  ?" 

"  Harry  McCabe." 

"Rise  up,  Sir  Harry,"  said  the  Duke,  applying  his  whip 
smartly  to  the  man's  shoulders,  who  bounded  on  his  feet,  but 
was  deterred  from  any  attempt  to  resent  that  which  he  deemed 
an  assault  by  the  approach  of  Lord  Loftus  from  the  castle,  who 
came  running  towards  them  roaring  with  laughter. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  339 

I  have  often  seen  this  man,  who  was  a  burly,  good  sort  of 
fellow,  and  who  bore  his  blushing  honours  with  exceeding  com- 
placency. To  the  day  of  his  death  he  was  by  his  friends  and 
comrades  addressed  as  ''Sir  Henry."  He  was  said  to  be  the 
son  of  a  gentleman  of  large  fortune  lost  in  the  usual  way — by 
"bill  of  discovery." 

At  that  period,  and  for  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  after- 
wards, there  existed  in  Dublin  as  elsewhere  a  class  of  labourers 
known  as  shoe-blachs,  a  profession  once  more  and  very  properly 
followed  in  Loudon.  A  professor  of  that  black  art,  as  cele- 
brated for  his  wit  as  his  contemporary  Jemmy  Wright,  the 
shaver,  so  distinguished  by  Foote,  had  established  his  stand 
immediately  "under  the  nose  of  the  Court,"  that  is  in  a  species 
of  gateway,  forming  the  entrance  into  Crampton  Court,  exactly 
opposite  the  lower  castle-yard.  Plearing  much  of  the  man's 
extemporaneous  repartees,  the  Duke  resolved  upon  a  visit  to 
him.  Accordingly  he  presented  himself  one  day,  and  requested 
the  service  of  the  shoe-boy  (such  was  the  appellation  given  to 
the  artist,  although  a  man  of  forty).  Accordingly  he  com- 
menced operations,  and  his  fun,  by  carefully  wiping  the  Duke's 
shoes  with  a  wig,  accompanied  by  some  joke,  about  from  head 
to  foot,  which  I  do  not  remember ;  in  short,  he  kept  the  Duke 
in  continual  laughter  until  the  job  was  finished,  when,  having 
no  small  money,  the  Duke  handed  him  a  guinea,  and  demanded 
the  change.  The  reply  of  the  artist  thereupon  was  the  origi- 
nal joke  henceforward  so  well  known  to  gentlemen  in  difficul- 
ties. "iVsk  me  for  change  for  a  guinea!"  exclaimed  he. 
"By ,  you  might  as  well  ask  a  Highlander  for  a  knee- 
buckle." 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  the  laughter-loving  Duke 
did  not  insist  upon  having  the  change. 


840  THE   IRISH 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

It  is  now  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  since  I  saw  the  Queen  of  France — 
then  the  Djuphiness — at  Versailles;  and  surely  never  lighted  on  this  orb, 
wliieh  she  hardly  seemed  to  touch,  a  more  delightful  vision.  I  saw  her 
just  above  the  horizon,  decorating  and  cheering  the  elevated  sphere  she 
just  began  to  move  in.  Glittering  like  the  morning  star,  full  of  life, 
splendour,  and  joj'. 

Burke  (Description  of  Marie  Antoinette). 

IX  the  commencement  of  my  references  to  the  reign  of  the 
Duke  of  llutland  in  Ireland,  I  alkided  to  his  beautiful 
Duchess,  and  her  susceptibility  of  description  in  the  glowinp; 
terms  of  Burke,  when  portraying  the  lovely  but  indiscreet 
and  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette.  Happy  were  it  for  France 
that  those  harrowing  episodes  of  her  history — the  deaths  of 
Queen  Marie  Antoinette  and  of  the  Due  d'Enghien — could 
be  expunged  her  annals.  Neither  crime  is  capable  of  jjallia- 
tion. 

In  a  grave  work  of  this  kind  I  have  felt  bound,  but  most 
reluctantly,  to  yield  to  a  sense  of  duty,  and  to  give  politics 
the  first  place,  which  gallantry  would  have  accorded  to  the 
fairest  of  the  fair,  Mary  Isabella,  Duchess  of  llutland  and 
Vice-Queen  of  Ireland.  Her  ravishing  beauty,  and  the  en- 
chanting elegance  of  her  manners,  united  to  captivating  gayety, 
would  appear  to  have  turned  the  heads  of  all  the  men,  and  yet 
without  creating  envy  in  her  own  sex.  Everything  was  "  Rut- 
land." I  remember  more  than  one  song  of  the  day  of  which 
she  was  the  theme.  A  new  and  magnificent  square  took 
the  name  of  "  Rutland."  A  new  dye,  as  was  pretended, 
was  given  to  silks  and  ribbons,  in  honour  of  the  Duchess, 
called  '•'  Rutland  blue"  (perhaps  the  colour  became  her),  but 
which  seemed  to  me  to  be  simply  that  which  was  known  as 
•'  garter  blue."  There  was  a  carriage  denominated  "  the  Rut- 
land gig,"  then  in  vogue,  which  may  possibly  have  been  an 
imitation  of  a  species  of  phaeton,  drawn  by  six  ponies,  con- 
ducted by  three  youthful  postilions,  in  splendid  liveries,  in 
which  the  Duchess  delighted  to  take  her  promenades  on  the 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  341 

North  Circular  Road,  an  avenue  which  became  after  her 
departure  the  most  deserted  portion  of  Dublin.  One  of  the 
songs  I  have  just  referred  to,  commenced  with  these  lines: — 

"If  yon  wish  to  see  her  Grnre, 
The  Circular  Roail,  it  is  the  plAce." 

Sympathizing  in  all  the  tastes  and  fancies  of  her  Lord,  the 
sparkling  Duchess  sometimes  sought  excitement  elsewhere  than 
in  the  Castle,  the  Lodge,  or  the  Circular  Road. 

There  lived  at  that  time  in  Francis  Street,  Dublin,  a  silk 
and  poplin  merchant,  of  the  name  of  Dillon,  next  door  to  the 
more  celebrated  silkmercer  Grogan,  whose  grandson  represents 
or  has  represented  the  city  of  Dublin  in  Parliament,  and  who 
by  assiduity  and  skill  in  trade  became  a  millionaire.  Dillon 
was  probably  not  so  rich  a.s  Grogan,  but  he  was  undoubtedly 
in  independent  circumstances.  Being  a  Roman  Catholic,  how- 
ever, he  lived  a  retired  and  unostentatious  life,  although  con- 
nected with  the  noble  family  whose  name  he  bore.  He  had, 
moreover,  a  wife — 

"  The  which  ho  loved  passing  well ;" 

and  she  was  worthy  of  all  respect.  Independently  of  her 
being  the  most  transccndcntly  beautiful  woman  in  Ireland, 
she  was  distinguished  by  grace,  modesty,  charity,  and  unsul- 
lied reputation. 

One  day  Francis  Street  was  disturbed  from  its  propriety 
by  the  apparition  of  the  Duchess  in  her  coach  or  phaeton  and 
six,  with  outriders,  her  usual  retinue,  and  was  driven  directly 
to  the  house  of  Mr.  Dillon.  Her  gi'ace  immediately  alighted 
from  the  carriage,  and  entering  the  shop,  asked  whether  she 
could  see  Mrs.  Dillon  ? 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  replied  a  perturbed  shopman,  "  she 
is  in  the  parlour :  shall  I  call  her  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  will  go  to  her." 

On  the  entrance  of  the  Duchess  into  the  room  called  the 
parlour,  a  tall,  magnificently-formed  woman  advanced  towards 
her  distinguished  visiter,  whose  conquest  she  instantly  made 
by  her  sweetness  and  dignity^.  "  I  am  Mrs.  Dillon,"  she  said, 
with  a  graceful  bend. 

''I  could  swear  it,"  said  the  Duchess;  ^' I  could  swear 
it,"  she  repeated,  and  after  a  lengthened  gaze,  that  Avas  begin- 
ning to  become  embarrassing  for  the  object  of  her  admiration, 


342  THE    IRISH 

she  turned  to  a  lady  companion,  and  said :  "  There  is  no 
exaggeration  in  it !"  Then,  advancing  upon  the  wondering 
Mrs.  Dillon,  and  taking  her  kindly  by  the  hand,  while  she 
peered  into  her  dove-like  eyes,  apologized  for  her  apparent 
rudeness,  and  said :  *'  I  have  been  under  an  impression  that  I 
was  the  handsomest  woman  in  Ireland,  but  have  been  told  by 
persons  not  disposed  to  flatter  that  I  was  in  error,  for  that  Mrs. 
Dillon,  in  face  and  figure,  far  surpassed  me.  I  find  that  1 
was  wrong,  and  they  right.  You  are,  allow  me  to  say,  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

Nor  was  there  anything  extravagant  in  this  compliment. 
Some  years  afterwards  I  saw  Mrs.  Dillon  at  her  retired  country- 
house,  in  the  oddest  quarter  in  which  a  country-house  could  be 
supposed  to  exist,  a  place  called  Roper's  Rest,*  and  still  re- 
member the  admiration  her  appearance  created  in  me. 

"  II  faut  ceder  a  temps,"  says  the  well-known  proverb. 
Enforcing  the  admonition  it  conve3-s,  a  French  writer  observes, 
that  it  is  founded  on  a  law  of  Nature,  from  acknowledgment 
of  which  no  man  can  claim  exemption.  Bernardin  de  Saint 
Pierre  thus  expresses  himself:  "Jamais  on  n'a  jete  I'ancre 
dans  la  fleuve  de  la  vie :  il  emporte  egalement  celui  qui  lutte 
centre  son  cours,  et  celui  qui  s'y  abandonne.  Tempori  paren- 
cluni." 

The  life  led  by  the  Duke  of  Rutland  was  too  fast  to  last 
long.  He  was  prematurely  brought  up.  The  first  announce- 
ment that  he  was  seriously  indisposed,  caused  a  sensation  of 
grief  in  Dublin  of  which  there  had  been  no  previous  example. 
'*  Physicians  were  in  vain."  The  Duke  died  on  the  24th  Oc- 
tober, 1787,  in  the  33d  year  of  his  age. 

His  remains,  borne  with  pomp  and  circumstance  unparal- 
leled in  Ireland,  were  followed  to  the  point  of  their  embark- 
ation for  England  by,  it  may  be  said,  the  whole  of  the  nobility 
and  gentry  of  the  countiy,  and  certainly  the  entire  population 
of  the  city  of  Dublin,  accompanied  by  unanimous  expressions 
of  regret.  I  remember  well  the  most  prominent  actor  in  this 
procession,  for  he  was  often  subsequently  pointed  out  to  me. 

*  Roper's  Rest  was  a  species  of  lane  in  continuation  of  tbat  classic  spot, 
where  some  years  since  resided  an  exceedingly  ugly  and  not  highly  polished 
brewer,  hight  Alderman  Poole. 

"  And  where  do  you  live  when  you  are  at  home,  my  Lord  Mayor  ?"  asked 
the  Duke  of  Richmond,  seated  at  Poole's  right  hand  at  the  civic  feast  at 
the  Mayoralty  House,  one  30th  day  of  September.  "In  Black  Pitts," 
replied  his  Lordship,  "where  there  are  more  pigs  than  Protestants." 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  843 

This  was  a  soldier  of  a  regiment  of  the  Dublin  garrison,  called 
from  his  remarkable  height  (nearly  eight  feet),  "  Big  Sam," 
who  during  many  years  afterwards  performed  the  functions  of 
porter  at  Carlton  House. 

The  Duchess  never  re-married.  I  remember  seeing  her 
forty-three  or  forty-four  years  aftenvards,  in  Hyde  Park,  Lon- 
don, bearing  still  a  remnant  of  her  former  beauty. 


CHAPTER  LXXVII. 

"Clubs!  Clubs!  Clubs!" 


Quentin  .Durward. 


BE  not  alarmed,  reader.  I  propose  not  to  inflict  upon  you, 
at  this  late  hour,  references  to  the  Parisian  "  clubs"  of 
the  first  French  Revolution,  nor  my  reminiscences  of  those 
of  1848,  which  were  equally  turbulent  and  noisy,  although 
less  sanguinary,  nor  notices  of  (their  antipodes)  "  White's," 
or  "  Boodle's,"  or  "  Brookes's,"  or  even  of  "  the  Band)/" 
Club  of  London,  although  Irishmen  have  figured  in  each  and 
all  of  them.  There  might  be  found  in  Ireland  much  of  club 
anecdote,  as  there  is  still  extant  something  of  club  law,  but  I 
shall  confine  myself  to  a  few  words  respecting  three  only  of 
those  cerclea,  beginning,  somewhat  oddly,  with  the  middle  one 
of  them  in  point  of  date. 

To  the  race  or  class  of  men  with  whom  the  Duke  of  Rut- 
laud  had  spent  the  last  two  or  three  years  of  his  life,  succeeded 
another  less  disordei-ly,  although,  as  has  been  seen,  yielding  not 
in  their  bacchanalian  exploits  to  their  predecessors.  They  as- 
sumed the  self-accusing  denomination  of  "  Cherokees."  They 
were,  generally  speaking,  young  men  of  rank,  and  were  remark- 
fble  for  the  personal  appearance  of  the  majority  of  their  body, 
ji.nong  whom  were  many  of  the  handsomest  and  finest  men  in 
Europe.  Of  these  several  became  afterwards  well  known  in 
London,  viz.  the  Mathews  (Lord  Llandaff"  and  his  brother, 
General  3Iontague  Mathew),  the  Butlers  (Walter  and  James, 
first  and  second  Marquesses  of  Ormond),  Lord  Cole  (the  late 
Earl  of  Enniskillen),  Sir  Henry  Parnell,  Sir  Wheeler  CuflFe, 
&c.     The  handsome  dashing   Cherokees   rivalled  in    fact   in 


844  THE   IRISH 

personal  appearance  the  distino-uislied  descendants  of  Irishmen 
on  the  Continent,  and  who  flourished  at  the  same  period — the 
O'Donnells  of  Spain  and  Austria,  and  the  Walls  and  Dillons 
of  France. 

The  costume  of  the  Cherokees  was  not  exactly  that  of  the 
tribe  whose  name  they  assumed.  It  was  on  the  contrary  rich 
and  recherche,  as  became  men  who.«e  pretensions  were  ultra- 
aristocratic.  In  my  day,  in  Ireland,  the  Cherokee  Club  dress- 
coat  of  William  Palmer  (son  of  the  beauty  Lady  Palmer,  and 
father  of  the  present  baronet)  was  still  preserved.  It  was  of 
dark  brown  cloth,  lined  with  pink  satin. 

The  handsomest  member  of  the  Cherokee.s  was  perhaps 
Walter,  Earl  of  Ormond;  but  the  Mathews,  upwards  of  six 
feet  high  respectively,  were  finer  men.  Lord  Cole  was  equally 
tall,  but  clumsier  made.  There  must  still  exist  in  London  and 
Dublin  the  recollection  of  Lord  jMathew  (the  late  Earl  Llan- 
daff)  and  General  J^Iontague  jMathew.  Even  in  St.  James's 
Street  every  person  they  passed  stopped  to  look  at  and  admire 
them.  If  there  were  a  difference  of  opinion  respecting  their 
personal  claims  to  admiration  between  the  brother.s,  IMontague 
had  the  advantage.  The  Lord  wore  an  air  of  haughtiness 
which  never  appeared  in  the  princely,  manly,  frank  Montague 
("  Mounty"  was  the  pet  name  by  which  he  was  known)  : — 
hauteur  was  neither  requisite  to  nor  would  be  natural  in  him. 

The  dress  of  the  Blathews  was,  and  remained  nearly  to  the 
dny  of  their  deaths,  as  striking  and  singiUar  as  their  personal 
qualities.  It  was  that,  in  fact,  of  the  year  1792,  when  the 
Lord  was  in  his  twenty-fourth,  and  IMounty  in  his  twentieth 
year.  It  is  still  familiar  to  all  who  have  knowledge  of  por- 
traits of  that  monstrous  coxcomb,  Robespierre,  consisting  of 
a  blue  or  green  coat,  made  full,  with  large  folding  collar, 
double-breasted  white  waistcoat,  and  nankeen  shorts  or  tights, 
with  silk  stockings,  (which  latter  their  contemporary  Ilo- 
bespierre  always  covered  with  top-boots),  their  linen  trimmed, 
including  a  copious  /f//;o/,  or  frill.  Their  hair  was  powdered, 
flowing  over  their  shoulders,  but  confined  carelessly,  as  it  were, 
near  the  ends  with  ribbon. 

Should  this  sketch  convey  an  idea  that  the  Mathews  (or 
indeed  the  Cherokees  generally)  were  effeminate,  it  would 
be  a  vast  error.  Two  braver  men  never  stepped  than  the 
IMathews.  Of  the  two,  the  Lord  was  however  the  more  pug- 
nacious.    Within  these  forty  years  he  proposed  Mounty  aa 


ABROAD    AND   AT    HOME.  345 

a  candidate  for  admission  into  the  Kildare  Sti'eet  Club,  Dub- 
lin, but  he  was  rejected.  Eighty-five  blackballs  registered  the 
political  rancour  of  the  club,  which  was  eminently  Toryj 
amongst  whom,  nevertheless,  the  sons  of  three  Roman  Catho- 
lic brewers  (Conolly,  Farrell,  and  Moore)  figured ;  but  they 
had  been  admitted  because  they  had  no  fixed  political  princi- 
ples, and  to  give  to  the  club  an  apparent  claim  to  a  character 
for  liberality  on  the  score  of  station  and  rcKgion. 

"When  the  numbers  were  declared,  the  great  room  of  the 
club  was  full.  Lord  Mathew  (or  rather  Llandaff,  for  his  father 
was  now  dead),  closed  the  door,  and  put  his  back  to  it.     He 

then  said,  in  a  low  voice  :  ''There  are  eighty-five rascals 

in  this  room." 

"Llandaff!  Llandaff!  recall  those  words,"  cried  several  of 
his  friends. 

"  No,  I  will  not.     I  say  again  there  are  eighty-five 

scoundrels  in  this  room." 

"  Surely,  my  Lord,  you  will  allow  men  to  exercise  their 
right?" 

"  Certainly  I  will ;  but  I  repeat  my  words — there  are 
eighty-five  scoundrels  in  this  room,  for  every  man  it  con- 
tains pledged  himself  to  me  to  vote  for  my  brother's  admis- 


sion." 


The  effect  of  this  statement  may  be  conceived.  The  haughty, 
indiffnant,  and  now  supercilious  Earl,  after  a  pause,  proceeded, 
amid  breathless  attention  : — 

'•Montague  Mathew  is  the  only  man  in  Ireland  for  whom  I 
could  not  succeed  in  procuring  admission  into  this  club.  Who 
among  you  is  better  entitled  to  the  distinction,  if  it  were  one, 
than  Montague  Mathew  ?  Which  of  you  is  of  a  nobler  family, 
or  more  illustrious  descent  ?  Who  among  you  is  more  Irish, 
or  rather  more  patriotic  in  principle  and  conduct  than  he  ? 
Bear  in  mind,  every  man  of  you,  that  I  denounce  eighty-five 
of  those  who  hear  mc  as  scoundrels  !" 

He  then  threw  open  the  door,  and  for  the  last  time  de- 
scended the  stairca.se  of  the  Kildare  Street  Club. 

Poor  Mounty  !  His  last  appearance  in  Dublin  was  as  chair- 
man of  a  preparatory  meeting  of  the  subscribers  to  the  banquet 
given  to  the  poet  Moore.  This  was  in  the  year  1818.  He 
referred  to  the  state  of  his  health,  then  evidently  breaking 
down,  as  the  rea.son  why  he  could  not  have  the  pleasure  of 
15* 


346  THE    IRISH 

being  present  at  the  fcle,  at  -wliicli  presided  Lord  Charlemont. 
He  died  in  the  following  year,  1819. 

General  Mathew  sat  in  tlie  House  of  Commons,  as  one  of 
the  members  for  Tipperary.  He  was  the  soul  of  good  humour, 
and  a  model  of  elegant  manners ;  but  whenever  an  Irish  ques- 
tion was  under  discussion,  he  appeared  excited ;  and  on  such 
occasions  his  style  of  oratory  was  peculiar. 

One  night,  in  1817,  the  treaty  of  Limerick  was  incidentally 
referred  to  in  a  petition  for  Catholic  Emancipation.  The 
General,  who  had  been  indulging  the  least  in  the  world  in 
"the  royal  pleasure,"  entered  the  House  while  Spring  Rice 
was  opening  the  debate.  He  caught  the  words  "  treaty  of 
Limerick,"  and  forgetting  that  ''  Aughrim"  had  not  been  pro- 
nounced, he  interposed,  and  said  :  "  Sir,  that  Luttrell  sold  the 
pass  no  man  can  deny ;  but  toe  lost  the  battle  through  the  bad 
talents  of  our  generals." 

Accustomed  as  the  House  was  to  laugh  at  Mounty's  jokes,* 
there  was  no  merriment  expressed  after  this  brief  interruption, 
for  it  would  have  sounded  as  ironical.  Neither  was  any  fault 
found  with  his  identification  of  himself  with  the  vanquished 
Jacobites. 

The  Cherokees  were  the  Dandies  of  their  period,  without 
the  aff"ected  impertinence  of  the  latter  club,  suggested  by  their 
extraordinary  and  inordinately  foppish  chief,  Brummel.  They 
were,  for  it  was  the  fashion  of  their  day,  more  riotous  and 
more  duellist,  but  possibly  not  more  courageous  or  manly,  than 
the  Dandies.  Foppery  is  not  unfrequently  accompanied  by 
intrepidity.^ 

*  Perhaps  there  may  exist  some  persons  unacquainted  with  General 
Mathew's  chef-d'oeuvre.     I  will  therefore  venture  to  record  it  here. 

There  was,  in  his  time,  in  the  House  of  Common.',  a  highly-respected 
gentleman,  Mr.  Mathew  Montague,  father  of  the  present  Lord  Rokeby. 
Montague  Mathew's  person  I  have  already  described.  Mathew  Montague's 
was  the  most  diminutive  and  least  striking  of  the  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight.  It  happened  that  one  night  Mounty  had  inscribed  his  name  in  the 
Speaker's  list,  having  a  petition  or  other  matter  to  submit  to  the  House. 
When  his  turn  came,  the  Speaker  confounding  names  called  upon  Mr.  Mon- 
tague. Mounty  remonstrated.  The  Speaker  admitted  his  error,  but  pleaded 
in  excuse  the  similarity  of  the  names — "Montague  Mathew,"  and  "Mathew 
Montague,"  said  Mounty.  "You  call  that  a  similarity!  "Why,  sir,  there 
is  as  much  difference  between  the  honourable  member  and  me,  as  between 
a  horse-chestnut  and  a  chestnut  horse." 

"f  There  is  a  story  told  of  a  young  ofEeer  of  the  Guards,  whose  right  leg 
was  amputated  at  Waterloo.  The  operation  over,  he  called  for  the  severed 
limb.  "That's  it,"  said  the  dying  youth  with  a  smile.  "  That  was  the 
most  admired  leg  at  Almack's  last  season." 


ABROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  347 


CHAPTER  LXXVIII. 

Handsome  is,  who  handsome  does. 


Old  Sai/ing. 


ENGLAND  (perhaps  the  fact  was  universal)  produced  about 
the  same  period  some  remarkably  fine  men,  of  whom  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  several  of  the  royal  dukes,  stood  fore- 
most. A  step  lower  in  the  social  scale  were  seen  young  men, 
very  tall,  and  distinguished  in  more  than  one  respect,  whose 
appearance  must  still  live  in  the  memory  of  many  of  the  pre- 
sent generation,  and  three  of  whom  made,  each  in  his  way, 
immense  sensation  in  the  world  afterwards.  These  were  Lord 
Paget  (the  present  Marquis  of  Anglesey),  Lord  Thanet,  and 
Sir  Francis  Burdett.  The  former,  in  1790,  was  in  his  twenty- 
second  year;  the  latter  in  his  twentieth.  Strangely  enough, 
each,  eight  years  subsequently,  distinguished  himself  by 
friendly  feeling  for  an  Irishman,  some  sixteen  or  eighteen 
years  their  senior,  himself  also  a  remarkably  handsome  man 
— Arthur  O'Connor.  This  disposition  was  evinced  for  him 
not  merely  in  society,  in  the  very  first  circle  of  which  he 
moved,  but  in  his  hour  of  proscription,  incarceration,  and  peril. 
The  part  performed  by  Lord  Thanet  and  Sir  Francis,  at  Maid- 
stone, in  May,  1798,  during  and  after  the  trial  of  O'Connor, 
Quigley,  Allen,  Binns,  and  Leaiy,  is  well  known ;  but  very 
few  are  aware  of  the  following  fact,  communicated  to  me  by 
General  O'Connor  in  Paris  in  1822. 

After  the  arrest  of  O'Connor  and  his  friends,  at  Ramsgate, 
all  of  whom  survive  him  except  one  (^"  the  poor  fellow  who 
was  hanged  at  Maidstone,"  as  Sir  Francis  Burdett,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  said  to  me,  speaking  of  them  thirty  years  after- 
wards), the  party  were  sent  prisoners  to  London.  They 
halted,  however,  for  the  night  at  Canterbury,  for  travelling  was 
yet  slow  at  that  period.  They  had  not  yet  turned  in,  but  were 
assembled  in  the  great  parlour  of  the  inn,  objects  of  curiosity 
and  of  occasional  vituperation  for  half  the  residents  of  the 
town,  when  suddenly  a  trampling  of  horses  and  considerable 
bustle  were  heard  without.     The  Bow  Street  oflScers  looked  to 


013  THE   IRISH 

their  prisoners,  whose  attention  was  directed  to  the  door  of  tho 
room  opening  on  the  hall.  Presently  was  seen  entering  (in,  I 
think,  his  Light  Dragoon  iTniform)  the  finest  man  in  England, 
Henry  Lord  Paget.  His  air  was  serious,  but  he  walked  quickly 
up  to  the  principal  prisoner,  and  said :  "  Mr.  O'Connor,  I 
regret  exceedingly  to  see  you  in  your  present  circumstances. 
You  know  that  our  political  opiniuns  are  decidedly  opposed. 
You  may  be,  and  are,  I  trust,  innocent  of  the  charges  which 
are  said  to  have  led  to  your  being  in  your  present  painful  posi- 
tion; but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  object  of  my  visit, 
which  is  to  tender  to  you  frankly,  freely,  and  unreservedly, 
any  assistance  which  by  person,  family,  or  connexion,  or  ^pray 
excuse  the  freedom)  purse,  1  have  the  power  to  render  3'ou." 

He  then  shook  O'Connor  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  pulling 
out  a  purse  of  gold,  pressed  it  on  him. 

The  money  was  declined,*  but  with  expressions  of  sincere 
acknowledgment  from  O'Connor,  who  was  deeply  aSected,  of 
admiration  from  his  fellow-prisoners,  and  of  undissenibled  in- 
dications of  respect  from  the  mere  spectators  of  the  scene. 

The  Cherokees  are  extinct.  There  is  little  good  to  record 
respecting  them,  I  believe ;  but  the  worst  with  which  their 
memory  can  be  reproached,  are  exclusiveness,  foppery,  dissipa- 
tion, and  fast  living.  The  subject  is  rather  barren.  Its  only 
claim  to  be  remembered  is,  that  it  was  a  feature  of  the  closing 
part  of  the  last  century,  or  rather  of  the  closing  part  of  my 
reminiscences  of  it,  terminating  about  1792.  It  may  not  be 
uninteresting  to  observe  the  effect  of  the  progress  which  the 
Cherokee  Club  exhibited,  in  comparison  with  its  predecessor  in 
notoriety  and,  it  may  be  said,  in  profligacy  in  Ireland,  the 
Hollfire  Club.     The  improvement  was  immense. 

The  Peerage  shows  that  the  title  of  Santry  (Barry,  Baron 
Santry)  was  forfeited  in  1739.  Respecting  the  possessor  of 
the  title  at  that  period,  there  exist  in  Dublin,  no  doubt,  more 
accurate  and  ample  particulars  than  my  memory  supplies,  and 
which  would  be  acceptable  as  illustrative  of  the  manners  of 
the  aristocratic  youth  of  that  remote  day.  I  remember  being 
told  that  the  last  Lord  Santry  was  a  member  of  the  club  with 
the  horrible  title  just  mentioned  (the  Hellfire  Club),  and  which 
was  distinguished  for  its  disgraceful  orgies,  licentiousness,  bru- 
talities, and  violence — in  short,  for 

*  O'Connor  bad  with  him  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest  a  very  lar^e  jum 
of  money  in  gold — which  was  seized  by  his  captors. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  ■  849 

"  All  that  the  devil  would  do  if  run  stark  mad  ;" 

find  to  an  excess  and  an  extent  incredible,  if  we  did  not  recol- 
lect that  Ireland  was  a  conquered  country,  still  under  the  heel 
of  the  foreign  conqueror,  who  was  still  drunk  with  his  victory, 
and  still  gorged  with  the  spoils  and  plunder  of  his  brave  but 
outnumbered  antagonist. 

Among  other  feats  achieved  by  certain  members  of  this 
club  in  a  tavern,  situate  in  Saul's  Court,  Fishamble  Street,  was 
the  seizure  of  a  sedan-chairman,  a  class  of  honest,  hard-work- 
ing poor  men,  then  politely  denominated  "Christian  ponies;" 
of  which,  I  believe,  not  one  pair  now  remains  for  specimen. 
Securing  him,  they  threw  back  his  head,  and  poured  brandy 
down  his  throat  until  the  poor  fellow  could  no  longer  swallow. 
Keeping  his  head  in  a  position  which  admitted  of  his  mouth 
being  filled  to  ovei-flow,  they  added  sufficient  for  that  purpose, 
and  then  set  fire  to  it !     The  man  died. 

For  this  crime  the  leader  of  the  party,  Lord  Santry,  was 
brought  to  trial,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  death.  It  will 
be  easily  believed  that  interest  was  not  spared  to  save  him  from 
the  fate  which  he  so  richly  merited.  This,  with  much  diffi- 
culty, succeeded  :  he  was,  however,  obliged  to  quit  the  British 
dominions,  and  died  at  Calais — like  another  titled  miscreant 
(Lord  George  Gordon),  some  forty  or  fifty  years  afterwards — 


•  a  circumcised  dos:. 


His  title  was  declared  forfeited;  and  so  loud  was  the  out- 
cry raised  by  his  crime,  that  the  govei'nraent  was  only  with 
difficulty  induced  to  spare  his  life.  The  deciding  argument  in 
his  favour,  according  to  tradition  (surely  it  may  be  questioned), 
was  a  threat  of  his  maternal  uncle.  Sir  Compton  Domville,  of 
Temple  Oge,  to  deprive  the  city  of  Dublin  of  water,  the  sui)ply 
of  which  was  his  property,  and  to  whom  the  estate  of  Lord 
Santry  passed. 

1  have  just  observed  that  contemporary  with  the  appearance 
at  home  of  numerous  Irishmen  remarkable  for  their  personal 
appearance,  several  descendants  of  Irishmen  were  similarly 
distinguished  in  France,  Spain,  and  Austria  :  among  others, 
the  Walls  and  Dillons  in  France,  and  the  O'Donnells  in  Spain 
and  Austi'ia ;  the  two  latter  countries  being  those  in  which 
Irish  valour  was  ever  best  rewarded. 

I  know  not  whether  the  O'Donnells,  who  attained  fortune 


0-13  THE   IRISH 

their  prisoners,  whose  attention  was  directed  to  the  door  of  tho 
room  opening  on  the  hall.  Presently  was  seen  entering  (in,  I 
think,  his  Light  Dragoon  nniform)  the  finest  man  in  England, 
Henry  Lord  Paget.  His  air  was  serious,  but  he  walked  quickly 
up  to  the  principal  prisoner,  and  said  :  "  Mr.  O'Connor,  I 
regret  exceedingly  to  see  you  in  your  present  circumstances. 
You  know  that  our  political  opinion^  are  decidedly  opposed. 
You  may  be,  and  are,  I  trust,  innocent  of  the  charges  which 
are  said  to  have  led  to  your  being  in  your  present  painful  posi- 
tion ;  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  object  of  my  visit, 
which  is  to  tender  to  you  frankly,  freely,  and  unreservedly, 
any  assistance  which  by  person,  family,  or  connexion,  or  (,pray 
excuse  the  freedom)  pur.se,  1  have  the  power  to  render  you." 

He  then  shook  O'Connor  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  pulling 
out  a  purse  of  gold,  pressed  it  on  him. 

The  money  was  declined,*  but  with  expressions  of  sincere 
acknowledgment  from  O'Connor,  who  was  deeply  affected,  of 
admiration  from  his  fellow-prisoners,  and  of  undissembled  in- 
dications of  respect  from  the  mere  spectators  of  the  scene. 

The  Cherokees  are  extinct.  There  is  little  good  to  record 
respecting  them,  I  believe;  but  the  worst  with  which  their 
memory  can  be  i-eproached,  are  exclusiveness,  foppery,  dissipa- 
tion, and  fast  living.  The  subject  is  rather  barren.  Its  only 
claim  to  be  i-emembered  is,  that  it  was  a  feature  of  the  closing 
part  of  the  last  ceutury,  or  rather  of  the  closing  part  of  my 
reminiscences  of  it,  terminating  about  1792.  It  may  not  be 
uninteresting  to  observe  the  effect  of  the  progress  which  the 
Cherokee  Club  exhibited,  in  comparison  with  its  predecessor  in 
notoriety  and,  it  may  be  said,  in  profligacy  in  Ireland,  the 
Hellfire  Club.     The  improvement  was  immense. 

The  Peerage  shows  that  the  title  of  Santry  (Barry,  Baron 
Santry)  was  forfeited  in  1739.  Respecting  the  possessor  of 
the  title  at  that  period,  there  exist  in  Dublin,  no  doubt,  more 
accurate  and  ample  particulars  than  my  memory  supplies,  and 
which  would  be  acceptable  as  illustrative  of  the  manners  of 
the  aristocratic  youth  of  that  remote  day.  I  remember  being 
told  that  the  last  Lord  Santry  was  a  member  of  the  club  with 
the  horrible  title  just  mentioned  (the  Hellfire  Club),  and  which 
was  distinguished  for  its  disgraceful  orgies,  licentiousness,  bru- 
talities, and  violence — in  short,  for 

*  O'Connor  had  with  biin  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest  a  very  large  £um 
of  money  in  gold — which  was  seized  by  his  captors. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  •  849 

"  All  that  the  devil  would  do  if  run  stark  mad ;" 

and  to  an  excess  and  an  extent  incredible,  if  vrc  did  not  recol- 
lect that  Ireland  was  a  conquered  country,  still  under  the  heel 
of  the  foreign  conqueror,  who  was  still  drunk  with  his  victory, 
and  still  gorged  with  the  spoils  and  plunder  of  his  brave  but 
outnumbered  antagonist. 

Among  other  feats  achieved  by  certain  members  of  this 
club  in  a  tavern,  situate  in  Saul's  Court,  Fishamble  Street,  was 
the  seizure  of  a  sedan-chairman,  a  class  of  honest,  hard-work- 
ing poor  men,  then  politely  denominated  "Christian  ponies;" 
of  which,  I  believe,  not  one  pair  now  remains  for  specimen. 
Securing  him,  they  threw  back  his  head,  and  poured  brandy 
down  his  throat  until  the  poor  fellow  could  no  longer  swallow. 
Keeping  his  head  in  a  position  which  admitted  of  his  mouth 
being  filled  to  overfow,  they  added  sufficient  for  that  purpose, 
and  then  set  fii'e  to  it !     The  man  died. 

For  this  crime  the  leader  of  the  party,  Lord  Santry,  was 
brought  to  trial,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  death.  It  will 
be  easily  believed  that  interest  was  not  spared  to  save  him  from 
the  fate  which  he  so  richly  merited.  This,  with  much  diffi- 
culty, succeeded  :  he  was,  however,  obliged  to  quit  the  British 
dominions,  and  died  at  Calais — like  another  titled  miscreant 
(Lord  George  Gordon),  some  forty  or  fifty  years  afterwards — 


a  circumcised  dojj. 


His  title  was  declared  forfeited;  and  so  loud  was  the  out- 
cry raised  by  his  crime,  that  the  government  was  only  with 
difficulty  induced  to  spare  his  life.  The  deciding  argument  in 
his  favour,  according  to  tradition  (surely  it  may  be  questioned), 
■was  a  threat  of  his  maternal  uncle.  Sir  Compton  Domville,  of 
Temple  Oge,  to  deprive  the  city  of  Dublin  of  water,  the  supply 
of  which  was  his  property,  and  to  whom  the  estate  of  Lord 
Santry  passed. 

I  have  just  observed  that  contemporary  with  the  appearance 
at  home  of  numerous  Irishmen  remarkable  for  their  personal 
appearance,  several  descendants  of  Irishmen  were  similarly 
distinguished  in  France,  Spain,  and  Austria  :  among  others, 
the  Walls  and  Dillons  in  France,  and  the  O'Donnells  in  Spain 
and  Austria ;  the  two  latter  countries  being  those  in  which 
Irish  valour  was  ever  best  rewarded. 

I  know  not  whether  the  O'Donnells,  who  attained  fortune 


352  THE    IRISH 

impression  in  my  devious  patli.  I  can  scarcely  hope  that  I 
shall  have  pleased  everybody,  but  I  have  sought  with  solicitude 
to  avoid  giving  offence  to  any. 

On  conimencing  this  record  of  my  reminiscences  I  had  a 
double  object  in  view — the  preservation  of  facts,  expressions, 
incidents,  and  characters,  illustrative  of  the  period  during 
which  Ireland  suffered  most  oppression,  and  Irishmen  success- 
fully laboured  abroad  to  sustain  the  reputation  for  bravery  and 
talent  raised  by  their  predecessors  in  the  two  preceding  cen- 
turies. I  also  hoped  that,  should  my  recollections  obtain  any 
portion  of  public  fovour,  other  persons  more  competent  and 
better  informed  would  be  tempted  to  follow  my  example  and 
reply  to  the  calumnies  and  vituperation  with  which  even  yet 
"  the  Irish"  are  assailed,  by  showing  from  their  note  book  or 
their  memory,  what  the  Irishman  really  is  in  times  of  diffi- 
culty and  danger — of  suffering  and  of  triumph — 

"When  sadly  thinking" 

at  one  moment;  at  others, 

"  Quaffing,  laughing, 
At  past  dangers  scoffing;" 

in  the  camp,  in  the  fight,  and 

"I'th'  imminent  deadly  breach." 


Now 
and  anon, 


"  Marching  over  Egypt's  tented  plain, 
Or  braving  foes  on  India's  distant  shore;" 

"In  the  bower  and  the  hall," 


at  the  tribunal,  in  the  Senate,  on  the  stage,  on  the  scaffold. 

In  1690  Ireland  was,  as  now  (1852),  suffering  from  an 
emigration  which  threatened  to  depopulate  the  country.  She 
was  then — as  in  a  hundred  years  afterwards,  and  now  sixty 
years  still  later,  divided  into  parties — Saxon  and  Celt.  Catho- 
licism was,  alike  in  1692,  1792,  and  1852,  decried  and  sought 
to  be  eradicated.  The  ^nly  difference  is  that  in  the  two  for- 
mer periods  proselytism  was  (but  with  marvellous  unsuccess) 
sought  to  be  achieved  by  penal  enactments,  and  the  whole 
power  of  the  state ;  whereas,  at  present  it  is  through  the  aids 
supplied  by  pestilence  and  famine,  and  the  agency  of  volun- 
teer zealots  or  enthusiasts.    Secret  conspiracies,  occult  projects 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOxMB.  853 

of  separation  from  England  through  revolt,  marked  and  mark  the 
three  periods,  bringing  ruin  upon  the  parties  engaged  in  them, 
and  all  but  irreparable  injury  to  their  native  land.  Another 
specialty  stamped  the  thi'ec  epochs.  The  newspapers  of  the 
day  vied  with  each  other  in  invective  towards  Ireland  and  the 
Irish.  Dissension  and  party  spirit,  religious  and  political, 
everywhere  throughout  the  island,  separated  its  population, 
producing  rancour,  hatred,  and  antagonism. 

If  these  things  still  obtain,  a  qui  la  /ante?  In  what 
variety  of  system  have  not  those  who  M'ould  be  governors  of 
Ireland  indulged? 

"Through  what  new  scenes  and  changes  have  we  passed !" 

During  a  century  the  religion  of  the  great  majority  of  the 
Irish  was  deemed  the  obstacle  to  absolute  British  rule  in  Ire- 
land, and  was,  consequently,  and  with  a  constancy  and  zeal 
■worthy  a  better  cause,  persecuted.  At  nearly  the  end  of  that 
period,  however,  the  descendants  of  those  by  whom  Ireland 
had  been  subjugated,  and  the  Catholics  oppressed,  and  many 
of  whom  still  enjoyed  the  spoils  of  the  conquered,  became  more 
Irish  than  the  Irish  themselves,  and  forming  themselves  into 
an  armed  association — professedly  for  the  defence  and  preser- 
vation of  that  fief  of  the  British  crown — tore  from  Great  Bri- 
tain, in  the  moment  of  her  embarrassment  and  distress,  her 
sovereignty  over  Ireland.  The  men  who  did  this  were  not 
Catholics,  but  they  reckoned,  and  secui'ely,  upon  the  concur- 
rence of  that  body  should  physical  force  become  necessary  to 
attain  their  object.  Fortunately  for  the  British  connexion,  the 
men  of  1782  limited  their  exaction  to  theoretic  concessions. 
The  separation  of  Ireland  from  England,  at  that  day,  were  as 
facile,  and  would  have  been  as  bloodless  as  the  mere  declara- 
tion of  her  independence. 

All  that  they  had  asked  for  was  granted  with  apparent 
good-will  and  good  faith,  but  with  (it  is  asserted  and  believed) 
an  arr'crr  peiisee. 

Relieved  of  the  burden  of  a  transatlantic  war  which  had 
required  all  her  strength,  and  which  had  seriously  compromised 
her  resources.  Great  Britain,  at  the  period  where  I  break  off, 
begins  to  recover  her  force,  and  to  reconsider  her  home  policy. 
She  is  believed  to  have  pci-ceived  that  if  she  would  preserve 
her  European  rank,  she  must  assume  to  herself  the  entire  pos- 
session and  the  control  of  Ireland,  which  had,  in  all  but  name, 
thrown  off  her  authority.     The  consequcuco  of  this  alleged 


354  THE   IRISH 

impression  was,  it  would  seem,  a  resolution  to  reconquer  her 
ascendency. 

In  this  determination  she  was  confirmed,  and  not  feebly 
aided,  by  the  indiscretion  of  the  very  party  who  had  coerced 
her  into  acquiescences  not  immediately  incompatible  with  her 
safety,  certainly,  but,  fi'om  their  tendencyto  enco^^rage  further 
and  more  formidable  encroachments,  capable  of  producing  a 
crisis,  the  issue  of  which  might  by  possibility  be  fatal  for  her. 
Already  had  there  been  a  commencement  of  the  execution  of 
her  project  to  recall  all  that  she  had  granted.  The  seeds  of 
dissension  were  extensively  sown  by  her  in  the  quarter  to  which 
principally  was  due  her  momentary  panic,  and  were  carefully 
fostered  in  their  development,  and  had  already  begun  to  blos- 
som, and  even  to  produce  fruit.  Already,  through  the  opera- 
tion of  alarm  adroitly  suggested,  had  the  government  succeeded 
in  detaching  from  the  ranks  of  the  Independents  many  pre- 
tended, lukewarm,  or  timid  adherents,  including  individuals 
of  the  highest  class,  when  the  French  Revolution  came  and 
furnished  to  her  a  new  motive,  or  rather  a  new  reason  for 
prompt  action,  and  her  antagonists  with  temptations  to  demon- 
strations and  imprudences  invaluable  for  her  and  fatal  for 
them. 

Independently  of  participation  in  the  panic  produced  among 
the  crowned  heads  of  Europe  by  the  wild  cry  of  "liberty"  in 
France,  the  British  Government  was  admonished  of  the  resist- 
ance and  struggle  preparing  for  it  in  Ireland,  by  a  monstrously 
impolitic  proposition  of  Hamilton  Rowan  to  change  the  title  of 
the  "Volunteers"  to  that  of  "National  Guards !"  Thus  fore- 
warned, that  government  resolutely  grappled  with  its  adversa- 
ries the  champions  of  Irish  independence,  and  commanded 
and  eflfected  the  dissolution  of  that  body.* 

Thenceforward  it  was,  between  the  British  Government  and 
the  Irish  party — war  to  the  knife.  How  it  was  waged,  its 
incidents,  and  result — the  extinction  of  Irish  independence — 
history  records. 

Contemporary  with  the  dissolution  of  the  Irish  Volunteers, 

*  Althongb  then  in  little  more  than  infancy,  I  preserve  a  lively  recol- 
lection of  the  sensation  the  dissolution  of  the  Volunteers  produced  in  Dublin, 
which  sixty  years  subsequent!}-,  that  is,  within  a  week  of  my  inditing  this 
passage,  has  been  recalled  to  my  memory  by  the  description  given  to  me  on 
the  spot  by  a  tearful  eye-witness  of  the  leave-taking  of  the  eagles  and  the 
Imperial  Guard  by  Napoleon  in  the  Cour  de  Cheval  at  Fontainebleau.  Tho 
Volunteers  bad  on  many  accounts  become  tho  idols  of  the  population. 


ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME.  355 

tte  Irish  Brigade  was  engaged  in  its  final  campaign  and  burn- 
ing its  last  cartridge  in  Belgium. 

At  the  same  period  the  Defenders  were  becoming  daring, 
and  the  United  Irishmen  had  nearly  organized  their  system. 
The  first  had  scarcely  a  definite  object.  The  second  contem- 
plated a  national  efibrt,  and  not  a  desultory,  fugitive,  and  fruit- 
less expenditure  of  strength  in  isolated  nightly  attacks  upon 
houses  and  persons  for  the  mere  acquisition  of  fire-arms.  Such, 
in  a  word,  was  the  situation  of  Ireland  at  the  close  of  a  century 
from  the  expulsion  of  the  Stuarts. 

Of  the  subsequent  periods  of  Ireland's  history,  the  progress 
of  the  Conspiracy  of  the  United  Irishmen,  and  its  absorption 
of  the  Defenders;  the  Rebellion;  the  Invasion,  the  Union, 
the  Insurrection,  absenteeism,  the  gradual  and  ultimately  gal- 
loping decay  of -landed  proprietors;  the  astounding  increase 
of  the  population,  and  its  present  decrease  through  the  opera- 
tion of  expulsion,  pestilence,  famine,  and  flight;  these  several 
phases  in  the  history  of  Ireland  have,  I  say,  been  chronicled 
and  become  familiar  with  every  reading  man  of  the  present 
generation. 


CHAPTER  LXXX. 

Les  hommes  n'ayant  pu  guerir  la  mort,  la  misere,  I'ignorance,  se  sont 
avisos,  pour  se  rendre  heureu.x,  de  ne  pointy  penser:  c'est  tout  co  qu'ils 
out  pu  inventor  pour  se  consoler  de  tant  de  maux. 

Pascal. 


F 


OLLOWING  humbly  the  example  of  an  old  and  respected 
friend,  Francis  Plowden  the  historian,  I  would  fain  add 
here  that  which,  in  strictness,  should  be  preliminary.  Dealing 
with  Irish  matters,  Mr.  Plowden  caught,  probably,  the  (at  least 
imputed)  practice  described  in  homely  terms  as  ''  putting  the  cart 
before  the  horse,"  and  subjoined  to  his  History  of  Ireland  that 
which  he  termed  a 

PosTLiMixous  Preface; 

and — lawyer  though  he  were — summed  up  with  his  exordium 
instead  of  peroration. 

Although  it  will  be  produced  anonymously,  I  feel  some 


850  THE    IRISH      ' 

anxiety  for  tlie  fate  of  this  volume.  Of  criticism  I  have  little 
apprehension,  for  on  my  facts  only  rest  my  hopes  of  their  suc- 
cess. Many  of  these  are  already  known  ;  but  I  believed  that, 
were  they  grouped  and  put  together,  their  effect  might  be 
enhanced,  and  they  might  become  for  my  purpose  useful.  In 
whatever  way  it  has  been  carried  out,  my  project  was,  as  1  have 
already  said,  to  present  the  Irishman -of  the  last  century — his 
condition,  qualities,  and  disposition ;  and,  in  endeavouring  to 
attain  that  object,  I  thought  that,  having  generalized,  exempli- 
fication would  be  more  available  than  argument. 

To  illustrate  the  nature  and  the  pressure  of  the  penal  laws 
— that  grievance  par  excellence  of  Ireland  in  the  last  century — 
I  have  given  some  well-known  anecdotes,  with  the  addition  of 
others  drawn  from  veritable  sources  peculiarly  my  own ;  namely, 
the  private  history  of  two  families — the  Balfes  and  the  Geo- 
ghegans,  with  which  families  I  am  connected — with  the  first 
by  blood,  with  the  second  j)'^''>'  alliance — and  of  whose  tradi- 
tions, consequently,  I  have  intimate  knowledge. 

The  courage  and  gallantry  of  the  Irish  soldier  require  no 
evidence  from  me  to  place  it  in  the  very  first  rank.  If,  there- 
fore, I  have  referred  to  the  O'Briens,  Dillons,  0'3Ioraus, 
O'ileillys,  O'Donnells,  Nugents,  Jennings,  kc,  it  was  because 
of  the  prominent  places  they  occupied — their  individual  quali- 
ties, and  of  other  interests  attached  to  their  deeds,  names,  and 
persons,  and  to  demonstrate  the  impolicy  of  those  enactments 
— now,  happily,  repealed — and  which  deprived  their  country 
of  their  talents  and  their  services.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  I 
might  have  cited  the  Wellesleys,  the  Ponsoubys,  the  Hutehin- 
sons,  the  Goughs,  the  Beresfords,  &c.,  of  our  own  time. 

Yes  ;  to  that  cruel  code  are  ascribable  all  the  imperfections, 
all  the  fxults,  and  (if  he  have  any)  all  the  vices  of  the  Irish- 
man of  the  last  century.  I  challenge  the  entire  host  of  his 
enemies  to  disprove  this  fact. 

To  the  Irishman  I  have  heard  ascribed  thoughtlessness,  heed- 
lessness, and  habitual  levity.*     "  Can  these/'  I  may  be  asked, 

*  In  like  manner,  it  is  the  fashion  to  call  the  Irish  lazy  and  incapable 
of  constancy  and  lusting  application.  Now  mark  how  plain  a  tale  shall 
set  those  down  who  make  such  charge. 

In  a  conversation  one  day,  some  thirty  years  since,  with  the  proprietor 
of  a  London  Morning  Newspaper  of  eminence,  he  said — "Your  countrymen 
have  wonderful  industry.     The  greater  part  of  our  hard  work  in  London  is 


AEROAD   AND   AT   HOME.  357 

"be  traced  to  liis  political  position  ?"  Yes — a  thousand  times, 
yes !  So  at  least  argued  a  dear  friend,  now  no  more,  whose 
opinion,  singular  though  it  be,  I  implicitly  accept. 

"  lleflectiou  is  an  excellent  thing,"  said  he,  "  for  a  sane, 
safe  man,  well  to  do  in  the  world.  It  saves  him  fi-om  iDany 
inconveniences — perhaps  crimes — suicide,  for  example.  Reflec- 
tion, which  would  deter  a  man  of  well-constituted  mind  from 
suicide,  would  drive  the  victim  of  misfortune,  persecution,  and 
injustice  to  its  perpetration.  Centuries  of  grinding  oppression, 
of  compelled  submission,  and  of  demoralizing  poverty,  in  the 
presence  of  his  alienated  possessions  and  of  the  dissipation  of 
wealth  that  should  be  his,  engendered  indignation,  impatience, 
and  regrets  in  the  Irish  heart ;  and  which  have  been  trans- 
mitted from  father  to  son,  indisposing  him  for  sober  contem- 
plation and  reflection,  and  driving  him  to  abstraction  and 
intoxication,  if  he  would  avoid  insanity  or  deeds  of  dire 
revenge.  Hence — I  am  inclined  to  contend — the  habitual 
levity  on  which  ignorant,  conceited,  hostile  hypocrites  of  the 
present  day  dilate.  I  state  not  this  as  an  apology  for  trifling 
or  want  of  reflection — eutcndez-vons — but  merely  to  account 
for  them  in  an  Irishman  ;  repeating  that  they  are  the  produce 
of  two  hundred  years  of  sufi'oring,  and  of  two  hundred  years 
of  efforts  to  withdraw  the  mind  from  its  contemplation." 

Some  fifty  years  since,  there  emigrated  from  Dublin  to  the 
United  States  a  Roman  Catholic  clergyman  of  talent  and  the 
utmost  respectability,  the  Reverend  iMarcus  Barrett,  of  whose 
interesting  conversation  I  have  a  perfect  recollection.  One  day, 
after  dinner,  the  young  people  got  up  a  little  dance,  which 
they  opened  with  "  Shawn  Eevee."  When  it  was  over,  Mr. 
Barrett,  who  was  present,  was  observed  to  be  absorbed  in  medi- 
tation. On  being  asked  the  reason,  he  said  :  "  The  lively  tune 
just  played  suggests  to  me  a  grave  reflection.  The  Scotch 
have  taken  it  from  us  to  adapt  it  to  their  beautiful  Jacobite 

performed  by  them.  The  vast  mnjority  of  our  ecal-whippers,  bricklayers, 
labourers,  and  newspaper  reporters  are  Irishmen." 

The  association  was  odd  per  ee — but  stranger  still  from  the  fact  that  at 
that  moment  I  was  myself  a  Parliamentarj-  Reporter,  though  not  connected 
with  his  journal.  His  evidence  fully  proves  the  inaccuracy  of  the  charge  of 
idleness  or  laziness,  brought  against  my  countrymen,  however  whimsically 
conveyed.  I  shall  only  add  that  ho  who  so  expressed  himself  was  a  most 
kind-hearted  man,  incapable  of  rudeness  or  discourtesy.  He  onl3'  supported 
his  theory  or  proposition  that  the  Irish  are  industrious,  without  any  inten- 
tion to  be  uncivil. 


358  THE    IRISH    ABROAD    AND    AT    HOME. 

song,  '  Over  the  "Water  to  Charley.'*  Of  that  I  do  not  com- 
plain, for  we  are  scions  of  the  same  stock.  It  is  the  construc- 
tion of  the  air  of  which  I  have  been  thinking.  The  music  of 
Ireland  is  the  music  of  a  heart-broken  people.  It  is  a  collec- 
tion of  sighs ;  and  yet — strange  inconsistency  ! — it  is  suscepti- 
ble of  instantaneous  change  from  the  grave  to  the  gay.  By 
merely  accelerating  its  measure,  the  dirge  supplies  the  melody 
for  the  '  Chanson  a  boire.'  " 

This,  everybody  knows,  is  literally  true.  Does  Father 
Barrett's  character  of  her  Muse  apply  also  to  the  children  of 
Erin  ?  Does  versatility  equally  belong  to  both,  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  in  the  one  it  is  an  admirable  quality,  and  in  the 
other  deemed  an  indication  of  disease  ?  "  The  Irishman  is," 
they  say,  ''  inconsistent,  inconsecutive,  inconstant."  Be  it  so; 
but,  instead  of  those  qualities  meriting  the  character  of  "an 
entailed  curse,"  as  I  have  heard  them  unkindly  and  inconsi- 
derately termed,  have  they  not  had  their  origin  in  a  bountiful 
dispensation  of  Divine  Providence,  which  endowed  the  sufferer 
with  the  power  to  abstract  his  mind  from  the  trlste  and  somhre 
contemplation  of  a  ^'  prostrate  countiy,"  a  plundered,  destitute 
family,  and  a  persecuted  faith  ? 

Times  are  altered,  however,  and  we  shall  change  with  them. 

*  A  more  remarkable  instance  of  the  kind,  is  the  adaptation  of  "John 
Anderson  my  Joe"  to  the  air  of  our  jovial  bacchanalian  song,  the  Crooskecn 
Lawn, 


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