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\ 



THt: LIFE OF . . 

LORD EDWARD 
FITZGERALD * 

By IDA A TAYLOR 



WITH >r'T-. 






THE LIFE OF . . 

LORD EDWARD 
FITZGERALD * 

1763 — 1798 
By IDA A. TAYLOR 

Aotbor o< " Sir Waiter Raldgli " 



WITH SIXTEEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS AND A PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 



Loadoo: HUTCHINSON & CO. 
Patenioeter Row •* "">» 1903 



Fl IZGtKALU - 

By IDA * TAYLOR 

Au;-;'. .-i"S:i Vi";:i,cf R.-.icigh" 



W J I H •> I ■•■::■. N ■ I ; ■ 



PREFATORY NOTE 



I DESIRE, in publishing the present volume, to 
thank the editors of The Nineteenth Century and 
After^ of The North American Review^ and of The 
English Illustrated Magazine^ for permission to include 
in it portions of papers on Lord Edward FitzGerald, 
the Irish Informers, and Pamela, which appeared in 
their respective Magazines. 

I also wish to thank Mr. Walter Crane for his 
kindness in allowing me to reproduce his design upon 
the cover of the book ; Lord Walter FitzGerald 
for valuable information and help with regard to 
portraits and illustrations ; Mr. Strickland, of the 
National Gallery of Ireland, for assistance of the 
same kind ; Lord Cloncurry and Mr. BischofFsheim 
for permission to reproduce pictures in their possession ; 
and Mr. T. W. Rolleston for his kindness both in 
revising the proofs of my book and allowing me the 
use of his photograph of St. Werburgh's Church. 

I. A T. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 



Dublin and the Geraldines — St. Werburgh's Church — Lord 
Edward FitzGerald's Grave — His Career — A Cause — Varying 
Estimates of his Character — Unfitted for Leadership i 

CHAPTER II 

1763— 1781 

Birth and Parentage—The Race of the FitzGeralds — Features of 
their History— Lord Edward's Father and Mother— The 
Lennox Family — Childhood — The Duchesses Second Marriage 
— Boyhood in France — Commission in the Army — America . 12 

CHAPTER III 

1781— 1783 

The American War — Opinions concerning It — Lord Edward 
at Charleston — Active Service— Dangerous Escapade — 
Wounded at Eutaw Springs — Tony — Early Popularity — St. 
Lucia — Back in Ireland 33 

CHAPTER IV 

1783— 1786 

Returned to Parliament— Life in Ireland— Tedium — The Condition 
of the Country — Westminster Election— Lord Edward's Family 
— Lord Edward in Love — At Woolwich— In the Channel 
Islands — Letters to his Mother 46 



viii Contents 

PAOE 

CHAPTER V 

1786— 1788 

Lord Edward and his Mother — Increasing Interest in Politics — 
The Duke of Rutland Viceroy^ Lord Edward's Position in 
Parliament and Outside It — Visit to Spain — General O'Hara 64 

CHAPTER VI 

1788— 1789 

Lord Edward in New Brunswick — Second Love Affair — Letters 
to his Mother — Irish Affairs— The Duke of Leinster — Lord 
Edward declines to seek Promotion — Adventurous Expedition 
— Native Tribes — Disappointment — Return Home 74 

CHAPTER VII 

1790— 1792 

Lord Edward offered Command of the Cadiz Expedition— Refuses 
it on being returned to Parliament — Decisive Entry on Politics 
— In London — Charles James Fox — Dublin — Condition of 
Ireland — Whig Club — Society of United Irishmen — Thomas 
Paine and his Friends — Lord Edward in Paris • • • 9S 

CHAPTER VIII 

Pamela — Her Birth and Origin— Introduced into the Orleans' 
Schoolroom — Early Training — Madame de Genlis and the 
Orleans Family — Visit to England — Southey on Pamela — 
Sheridan said to be Engaged to Pamela — Departure for France 1 1 5 

CHAPTER IX 

1792 

Lonl Edwiid in Pftris— Spirit of the Revolution — Enthusiasm in 

EogUmd mod Irdand— Shared by Lord Edward— Compro- 

>%iiig Action on his Part— Meeting with Pamela— The Due 



Contentf 

drOriteos and Madame de GenUs—Manriage of Loid Edward 
and Pkmela— Loid Edwaid CadOoped 133 



CHAPTER X 

1793—1793 

Pamela and Lord Edward* a Famfly — ^Her Portraifc— Eflfoct upon 
Lord Edward of Caahierment— Cathcdic Conventioo— Scene 
in Parliament— Catholic Rdief Bill— Lavdeaaneaa in the 
Country— Lord Edward*a laolation 15a 

CHAPTER XI 

1793— 1794 

Social Position affected by P<ditical Differences— Married Life- 
Pamela's Apparent Ignorance of Politics — Choice of a Home 
—Gardening— Birth of a Son— Letten to the Duchess of 
Leinster— Forecasts of the Future 169 

CHAPTER XII 

1794—1795 

Failing Faith io Constitutional Methods oi Redress — ^Lord 
Edward's Relations with the Popular Leaders — His Qualifi- 
cations for Leadership — Jackson's Career and Death — Minis- 
terial Changes — Lord Fitzwilliam*s Viceroyalty — And Recall 
— Lord Camden succeeds Him— Arthur O'Connor. . .179 

CHAPTER XUI 

1796 

Dangerous State of the Country— Protestants and Catholics — 
Savage Military Measures — Lord Edward joins the United 
Association— Its Warlike Character— The "Bloody Code"— 
Lord Edward's Speech on Insurrection Act — Mission of Lord 
Edward and O^Connor to French Government — Meeting with 
Madame de Genlis — Hoche and Wolfe Tone— Failure of 
French Expedition 196 



K Contente 

PAGE 

CHAPTER XIV 

1797 

Kfle(*tii of the French Failure— United Irishmen and Parliamentary 
I >|)|Hiaition— Attitude of Grattan— Lord Castlereagh— Govem- 
niriit lUutality— Lord Moiras Denunciation — Lord Edward 
ami his Family— Charge against Him— Meets a French Envoy 
III London — Insurrectionary Projects • .212 

CHAPTER XV 

Irish Informers—*' Battalion of Testimony "—Leonard McNally— 
Thomas Reynolds — Meeting between Reynolds and Lord 
KUwaril— Reynolds and Neilson— Curran's Invective . 232 

CHAPTER XVI 

1798 

Lord Kdward's Doom Approaching— His Portrait at this Date^ 
I'ersonal Attraction — Differences among the Leaders — Delay 
of French Assistance— Arrest of O'Connor— His Acquittal and 
Imprisonment— National Prospects — Reynolds's Treachery- 
Arrest of the Committee 245 

CHAPTER XVII 
1798 

Excitement in Dublin^Pamela— Lord Edward's Family — Lord 
Castlereagh's Sympathy — ^Lord Edward's Evasion — Various 
Reports — Reynolds's Curious Conduct — Meeting of Lord 
Edward and Pamela — Martial Law^Lord Edward's Position 
— Spirit in which he met It 262 

CHAPTER XVIII 

1798 

Lord Edward in Hiding — Hairbreadth Escapes — Loyalty and 
Treachery— In Thomas Street— Last Visit to his Wife— 



•^ 



Contents xi 

PAGB 

iDsaxTecticmary Plans— Higgins and Magan— Attempt at 
Capture — ^Acquittal of Lord Kingston— Lord Edward tracked, 
wounded, and taken Prisoner 282 



CHAPTER XIX 

1798 

Coodnct when a Prisoner — Various Scenes in Dublin— Pamela — 
The Facts and her Account of Them at Variance — Her After- 
life— Visit to Bar^re— Death 305 

CHAPTER XX 

1798 

Attempts to ensure a' Fair Trial— Prince of Wales — Conspiracy 
to Rescue — Lord Edward's Condition— Harshness of the 
Government — Refusal to admit his Family — Change for the 
Worse — Last Intexriew with Lady Louisa Conolly and his 
Brother— Death— And Burial — Summing Up. . 316 

APPENDIX A 
Funeral of Lord Edward FitzGerald 335 

APPENDIX B 
The Bill of Attainder 337 

UST OF PRINCIPAL AUTHORITIES 339 

INDEX 341 



/ 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



XX>RD EDWARD FITZGERALD FronHspUct 

Pagt 

JAMES, EARL OF KILDARE (DUKE OF LEINSTER) l8 

EMILY, OOUNTBSB OP KILDARE (DUCHESS OF LEINSTER) .... 24 

CARTON 47 

PARLIAMENT HOUSE 68 

DEATH MASK OF THEOBALD WOLFE TONE I07 

MISS UNLEY (MRS. SHERIDAN) AS ST. CECILIA 126 

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 131 

PAMELA 154 

LEINSTER HOUSE 177 

ARTHUR O'CONNOR 192 

VISCOUNT CASTLBREAGH ai8 

LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 247 

PAMELA (LADY EDWARD FITZGERALD) AND CHILD 272 

ST. CATHERINE'S CHURCH AND THOMAS STREET 302 

LORD HENRY FITZGERALD • 3^5 

SOUTH WALL OF ST. WERBURGH'S CHURCH 332 

xii 



LIFE OF 

LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 

CHAPTER I 

Dublin and the Geraldines — St Werburgh's Church — Lord 
Edward FitzGcrald's Grave— His Career— A Cause- 
Varying Estimates of his Character — Unfitted for Leader- 
ship. 

NEAR the east gate — ^formerly the gate of St. 
Mary Les Dames — of the city of Dublin 
stand a group of buildings notable indeed. 

Near by is the Castle, with all its historical and 
political associations, past and present. A stone's 
throw removed is the sombre edifice whose foundation 
dates from the days of faith when, " about the year 
of our Lord 1038, the Danish Prince of Dublin 
gave to Donat, Bishop of that see, a place to erect 
a church to the honour of the Holy Trinity." So 
the Black Book of Christchurch records the first gift 
to the famous Priory of the Trinity, now known as 
Christchurch Cathedral. Again, in close proximity 
to the priory (where in 1562 the monument of another 
alien, this time of Norman blood, Earl Strongbow, 

I 



3 XtCe of XorD EtwarD fftjOeraR) 

was broken and repaired) die Gty Hall has replaced, 
by a double secularisation, G>rk House, on the con- 
secrated ground where once stood the G)nyent and 
Church of St Mary Les Dames ; while, last of the 
group, at an almost equal distance from the Casde 
on the farther side, the modem Church of St 
Werburgh, with its eighteenth-century, pseudo-classic 
frontage, its railed-in pavement and gaslit portico, 
remains to tell that once an Anglo-Norman foundation 
imported from over the sea the name and fame 
of Saint Werberga, sometime — in those remote ages 
when blood-royalty and sainthood went hand-in-hand — 
Princess of East Anglia and Abbess, as her mother 
and grandmother before her, of the Monastery of 
Ely. 

Close neighbours, these three religious houses shared 
with the Castle many a memory of past days ; and 
amongst these memories is ever and ag^n recurrent 
the name of Ireland*s foster-sons, the Geraldines. To 
them she gave true birthrights. With her traditions, 
her stones, her sepulchres, and her dust, their race 
is associated beyond possibility of severance. 

In the Castle FitzGerald after FitzGerald ruled, 
whether as the King's Deputy or despite of him. In 
the Castle, too, one after another lay imprisoned. In 
the Priory close at hand was entombed Maurice 
FitzGerald, Earl of Kildare, dead in 1390 — once a 
prisoner in the Casde, afterwards Deputy there. 
Litde more than a century later, in the choir of 
the same church, St. Mary's Chapel was built by 



Xife of Xotd Edward |'ft30etald 3 

another Earl Gerald, who, dying the following year, 
1 5 1 3, bequeathed " his best gown of gold and purple 
to make dresses for the priests," already endowed by 
him with vestments of cloth-of-gold, a yearly com- 
memoration, with other spiritual privileges, being 
accorded to the donor and doubtless observed for 
many a year. In the Priory, not a score of years 
earlier, this same Gerald must have borne a leading 
part in the ceremony when— our Lady's statue 
in the adjacent Convent-church of St. Mary Les 
Dames lending her crown for the occasion — the poor 
puppet-king, Lambert Simnel, " well faced and princely 
shaped, and of no very evil nature," was crowned, 
with feasting and triumphing and mighty shouts 
and cries ; and, the pageant ended, was borne *' on 
tall men's shoulders," and doubtless accompanied by 
the FitzGerald brothers — Deputy and Chancellor at the 
time — his chief supporters, to the King's Castle. In 
the Priory, again, the rebel nobles, Kildare at their 
head, received the royal pardon under the Great Seal, 
the oath of allegiance taken by the Earl upon a Host 
consecrated by the English chaplain, lest even in this 
solemnity deception might be practised and the pledge 
rendered a nullity. 

Scenes like this, with their vivid mediaevalism, will 
recur no more in the quarter of the city where 
Christchurch, the King s Castle, and the City Hall 
recall or obscure the remembrance of the past. The 
Priory, with its vestments of purple and gold, is 
become the cathedral church of a faith which has 



4 Xffe of %oxb Bbward |'ft30eral& 

discarded purple and gold — and much else beside. 
St. Mary Les Dames is dispossessed, not only of her 
crown, but of her nuns, her convent, her chapel, 
and her worshippers ; and her parish, as far back as 
the sixteenth century, was incorporated with that of 
St. Werberga. But St. Werburgh*s Church — even the 
St. Werburgh's of to-day, with its Corinthian columns 
and classic portico, has still one tradition to hand on : 
a tradition which links the chivalries of the past, 
chivalries armoured and helmed, lance in rest and 
banners flying, with the chivalries of new centuries 
of hope and aspiration and sacrifice, hope with 
no coloured visions, aspiration shorn of glamour, 
sacrifice without its ritual of palm and crown. For 
beneath the chancel of the churgh dedicated to the 
Anglian saint lies Edward FitzGerald ; while without, 
in a piece of burying-ground belonging to his family, 
by a coincidence as strange as that which placed Lord 
Castlereagh's monument near that of Grattan in 
Westminster, is the tomb of Charles Henry Sirr, from 
whose hand Lord Edward received the wound of 
which he died. 

Ireland gives to her sons many gifts and great ; 
and, giving much, she requires from them also much. 
To the Geraldines of old she gave her loves, her 
hates, her blood, and her soul, receiving from them in 
return fair chapels, loyalty to her feith, devotion to 
her nationality. To Edward FitzGerald she gave her 
last gift — a dream ; and he, for her gift — greater love 
hath no man than this— laid down his life. 



Xffe of Xor5 E^war5 f ft3®eral5 5 

To place a deaths as it were, as the headline of a 
life, and a grave as its frontispiece, might seem to 
reverse the natural order of things. But it is precisely 
the close of Lord Edward's career which has riveted 
upon him for a hundred years the gaze of his country- 
men ; and of him, as of another, it may be said that, 
in their eyes, no action of his life became him like 
the leaving it. It is, in fact, his title to a place 
in history. 

At first sight Lord Edward's story presents only 
another monument of failure, vowed as he was to the 
service of a cause predestined to disaster, and, further- 
more, dead before it had been granted to him to strike 
so much as a blow in its defence. But there is 
another reading to t|ie record, and Fate is more just 
in her dealings than it sometimes appears. The gift 
of a cause is in itself no small one, and who shall 
determine whether, the character of the man being 
taken into account, the price exacted for it was dis- 
proportionately great ? 

It is, however, necessary to distinguish. If he was 
essentially a man with a cause, he was in no wise a 
fanatic. To some men it chances to possess their 
cause ; to others to be possessed by it. To some, 
again, it is, so far as choice can be said to be a factor 
at all in the lives of men, the result of fi-ee election ; 
while there are others to whom it might almost appear 
that no alternative has been offered, in whose case 
the attempt to elude the destiny prepared for them 
would be as vain as the endeavour to escape from some 



6 Xife of Xor5 £dward f ft3®etald 

doom which, pronounced upon them at birth, would 
be found, like Asrael, the Angel of Death in the Eastern 
legend, awaiting them, wherever they might fly. 

It was to this last class that Edward FitzGerald 
belonged. Single-hearted and loyal as was his devotion 
to his country and his country's cause, it would be 
a misapprehension to confuse him with those comrades 
to whom the enfranchisement of their native land had 
been, from youth up, the one engrossing preoccupation 
of life, and who formed a group bound together by 
the closest ties of association, of class, and of interest. 

Between Lord Edward and such men — men of the 
stamp of Wolfe Tone, his friend Russell, Emmet, 
McNevin, and the rest — cordial as were their relations 
during those later years in the course of which he 
was being drawn into the stream which was hurrying 
them on towards revolution, there was nevertheless 
a gulf which, bridged over as it was by a common 
aim and a common political interest, could not but 
leave them in a measure apart. To the patriots who 
were represented by Wolfe Tone, the one absorbing 
object removed, life would have held but little meaning. 
To Lord Edward, on the other hand, dedicated to 
that object as were the closing years of his brief 
manhood, it constituted, taking his life as a whole, 
but one aim out of many, a single thread, however 
shining and important, in the texture of a many- 
coloured woof. It was by the gradual elimination 
of rival, if not conflicting, interests that the ultimate 
domination of that which was to prove paramount 



Xtfe of Xor5 £dward f ft3®erald 7 

was assured. Lover, soldier, and patriot by turns, 
though it is in the last character alone that he has 
won a place in the remembrance of men, he brought 
almost equal enthusiasm to bear upon each pursuit. 
The enterprise in which he met his death was 
embraced in precisely the same gallant and irre- 
sponsible spirit of adventure, though combined with 
an invincible faith in the justice of his cause and a 
more serious purpose, which led him to imperil his 
life in a harebrained exploit during the American 
war or to traverse wildernesses in Canada hitherto 
unexplored. 

It is true that it is not altogether an easy matter, 
oppressed by the sense of coming tragedy — a tragedy 
all the darker for the setting in which it is framed 
and from the very nature of the victim — to avoid 
allowing the shadow to fall backwards, and to cast 
its sombre tints over days troubled by no foreboding. 
But to do so is at once to lose the true atmosphere 
by which Lord Edward's life was pervaded, the bright 
and light-hearted daring which does not so much 
disregard danger as forget it, and makes its sacrifices 
with a spontaneous and reckless generosity which is 
almost unreflecting. 

The mistake made by some of those whose ad- 
miration has been warmest has been of this nature. 
They have lost sight of the fact that amongst his 
most distinctive traits was the gaiety with which he 
faced the crises of life, great and small — a gaiety 
not incompatible, especially in those of his race, with 



8 Xite of Xord £dward f ft3®erald 

complete earnestness of purpose and passionate con- 
viction ; but incomprehensible to men of more 
ponderous temper, and possibly perplexing to those 
of more concentrated aims. Thus one writer is found 
adverting to the reverence inspired by the '* solemn 
religious enthusiasm " belonging to his character ; while 
a tone approaching deprecation is discernible in the 
explanation offered by Dr. Madden of the levity of 
his bearing at the very crisis of his fate, when not only 
life and liberty, but the entire issue of the enter- 
prise of which he was leader, were at stake. It was 
his habit, says this apologist, to ^^ appear ^^ in his usual 
spirits, " apparently " light-hearted and easily amused ; 
leaving it to be inferred from the italics that this 
gaiety was nothing but a mask, assumed at will. The 
theory is as widely at variance with the openness 
and simplicity of his nature as the assertions of a 
writer less favourably disposed towards him, who 
declared him to have artfiilly concealed his trait- 
orous designs under the cover of his amiable manners 
and conduct, to have fascinated all his acquaintance 
into unqualified confidence, and to have sought to 
disguise his treason under the shield of the sublimest 
virtue and patriotism. 

The one view is no less erroneous than the other. 
So far as it is possible to judge from the evidence 
that remains, what Lord Edward appeared to be, 
that he was. There are natures so complex that it 
is a difficult matter for even their contemporaries to 
hazard an opinion upon them, to adventure with 



Xffe of Xor5 £dwar5 fit3®erald 9 

any assurance a conjecture as to the motives by which 
they are swayed, or to reconcile the man and his 
actions. But Lord Edward was not one of these. 
There was a singleness and a transparence about his 
character which forced upon men of the most opposite 
views the recognition of its main features, and amongst 
those best qualified to judge a rare consonance of 
opinion on the subject is found. On his gaUantry 
and courage, his unblemished personal integrity, the 
sincerity of his ardour, his loyalty to the cause he 
had made his own, and the rare and sunny sweetness 
of his disposition, scarcely a doubt has been cast, 
even by those whose natural bias would have inclined 
them to take an unfavourable view of the leader of 
the movement in which he was engaged. Thus a 
political opponent, Henry MacDougall, who published 
in the year 1799 an account of the persons concerned 
in the " foul and sanguinary conspiracy " which had 
just been crushed, describes the young commander- 
in-chief of that foul conspiracy as "the delight and 
pride of those who knew him (this truly unfortunate 
circimistance of his life excepted), nor did there ever 
exist in the estimation of his friends a more noble 
youth, a braver gendeman " ; and if it is true that 
the absence of bitterness amongst his Irish opponents 
may have been in part due to the glamour clinging 
to the figure of a Geraldine, those to whom no 
suspicion of national prejudice can attach are at one 
with his countrymen in this respect, and few are the 
stones which have been cast at his personal character. 



lo Xffe of Xord £t)war5 f ft3(Berald 

In his capacity of political leader, however, it was 
another matter. Here he suffered to a marked degree 
from **/^j difauts de ses qualifis.'' A worse man 
would have made a better conspirator ; and amongst 
all, save such as are pledged to allow no fmling or 
deficiency to mar the portrait of their hero, there is 
as full a concurrence of opinion concerning his un- 
fitness for the part he was set to play as with regard 
to the stainlessness of his honour. An authority 
vouched for by Madden as being better acquainted 
with him perhaps than any other of his associates, 
while bearing witness to the nobility of his character, 
his freedom from selfishness, meanness, or duplicity, 
and to his frankness and generosity, yet denied his 
capacity to conduct a revolution; Reinhard, French 
Minister to the Hanseatic towns, and a most friendly 
critic of the envoy who had been sent to open negotia- 
tions with his Government, while declaring himself 
ready to answer for the young man's sincerity with his 
head— a compliment, it may be observed, which Lord 
Edward would not have reciprocated — added that 
he was wholly unsuited to be leader of an enterprise 
or chief of a party ; and, to quote an observer in a 
very diflferent sphere, the informer Cox, while adding 
his testimony to Lord Edward's zeal, declared him, 
at the same time, unfit to command a sergeant's 

guard. 

Such would seem to be the general verdict, con- 
temporary and posthumous, and one borne out by 
the issue of the struggle in which he was engaged 



life of Xotb £bwac5 fftsi^eralb n 

and his fidlure to cany it to a successful condu^on. 
it was a verdict in which — since neither vanity nor 
arogance are to be counted amongst his failings- 
he would himself in all probability have concurred. 
It was part of the gallantry of his disposition not to 
from respon»bility when it was thrust upon 
But it was his misfortune, and, according as 
k ii regarded, the misfortune or the salvation of his 
cu umiy, that he was forced into a position which 
Jm was not competent to fill. The incongruity of 
Ae man and of the situation lends half its tragedy 
to die melancholy story. 



CHAPTER II 

1763— 1781 

Birth and Parentage — The Race of the FitzGeralds — Features 
of their History — Lord Edward's Father and Mother — 
The Lennox Family — Childhood — The Duchess's Second 
Marriage — Boyhood in France — Commission in the Army 
— America. 

LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, fifth son and 
twelfth child of the twentieth Earl of Kildare 
and first Duke of Leinster, was born in London on 
October 15th, 1763. 

The period during which his short life was to be 
passed — not thirty-five years in all — was a stormy one 
for Ireland. It was a time when the brooding resent- 
ment over the wrongs of centuries was gathering to a 
head, and sullen submission was being exchanged for 
fierce and passionate resistance ; a time when injuries 
were inflicted in the name of religion ; when tyranny 
was begetting violence, and oppression brutality ; and 
when men, despairing of justice, were taking the 
vindication of their rights, as well as vengeance for 
their wrongs, into their own hands. 

The story has been told often enough, now from 
one point of view, now from another ; and it is not 



Xtre ct Xocd &waxb fftiOctaXb 13 

intended to ofier a further repetition of it her^ except 
in so far as it may be necessary for the purposes of 
pnrdy personal narrative. 

Nor does it come within the compass of the present 
ivork to dwell otherwise than briefly upon the race 
from which the subject of it sprang. To give a 
consecutive account, however incomplete, of the 
Geraldines, of their digged resistance to English rule, 
their forced submissions, and their renewed revolts, 
would be) it has been said, to epitomise the history of 
their entire nation — a nation whose annals, unconnected 
and episodical, ^ are like the scenes of a tragedy whose 
author had much imagination but no art '' — and would 
oocupf more space than can be afibrded here. 

It b with a certain '* Dominus Otho " that the story 
begins ; who^ said to have been one of the Gherardini 
of Florence, passed into England by way of Normandy, 
and is found holding the rank of *^ honorary Baron " 
there in the reign of Edward the Confessor. 

The descendants of Lord Otho did not remain for 
long rooted on the eastern side of St. George's Channel. 
About the year 1169 — before Strongbow had made 
good his footing in Ireland — two half-brothers, Maurice 
FitzGerald and Robert FitzStephen, crossed over, on 
the invitation of the King of Lcinster, to help him 
against his foes, were invested by him with the lordship 
of Wexford, and so were established on Irish soil.^ 

For a certain time it would seem that the tradition 

' From this Maurice not only the Earls of Kildare, but their kinsmen 
the Earls of Desmond traced their descent. 



14 Xife of Xord B^watd f ftjGenOb 

of loyalty to the English throne was, though inter- 
mittently, observed by the Genddines, their services 
rendered to Edward III. in his contest with the Bruce 
having been such as to be rewarded, in the year 131 6, 
with the earldom of Kildare. But as years went by 
and the original connection with England grew more 
remote, they proved less and less submissive vassals of 
the Crown ; and though frequently holding high office 
in Ireland, they are constantly found suffering imprison- 
ment or disgrace, for offences real or imputed, and 
acccused, on one occasion at least, of '* alliance, fosterage, 
and alteragc with the King's Irish enemies," from whom, 
however, they continued to the end to be held distinct. 

As early as the fourteenth century a General 
Awcmbly was called together at Kilkenny by Maurice, 
lurl of Kildare, and others, in opposition to the 
I^urliamcnt summoned to meet in Dublin, Earl Maurice 
Buffering a subsequent term of imprisonment ; and 
unilcr the Tudor kings the Earls of Kildare continued 
to display the same features of turbulence and insub- 
ordination ; open revolt alternating with perfunctory 
actH of submission which plainly bore the character 
of mere provisional concessions to necessity. 

The history of Earl Gerald, in particular, dating 
from 1477, might almost be taken as typical of the 
relations existing between the English kings and their 
** cousins the Karls of Kildare." Invested with the 
office of Deputy, he persisted in retaining it, in spite 
of dismissal ; and, calling together a Parliament, was 
confirmed by it in his post. It was this same Gerald, 



Xite of Xord £dward f ft3®etald 15 

too, who headed the Irish nobles in their attempt to 
place Simnel upon the throne ; and when the enterprise 
had ended in disaster, and letters had been sent to 
England to demand a pardon, the nature of his 
submission is sufficiently indicated by the petition 
presented to the King's envoy by the citizens of 
Waterford, who, fearing lest vengeance might be 
¥rreaked upon them by the pardoned man in conse- 
quence of their refusal to join in the rebellion, entreated 
that they might be exempted from his jurisdiction as 
Deputy. 

Two years later, summoned to meet the King, the 
great Irish nobles, Kildare at their head, repaired to 
Greenwich ; when Henry VII., telling them good- 
humouredly that '* they would at last crown apes, 
should he be long absent," entertained them at a 
banquet at which the ex-King Simnel played the part 
of butler. 

Again the scene shifts. Five years more and the 
banqueting-hall is replaced by the council-chamber ; 
where Earl Gerald, an attainted man, is undergoing 
his trial, one of the offences of which he stands accused 
relating to the burning of Cashel Cathedral, in con- 
sequence of a feud with the Archbishop, now present 
in person to prove the charge. 

" By my troth," answered the Earl, '^ I would never 
have done it, but I thought the Bishop was in it." 

The King laughed, pleased, it would seem, with 
the bold retort ; and when the Bishop of Meath, also 
present, exclaimed that all Ireland could not rule this 



i6 Xife of Xord £&ward f it3®erald 

man, "Then he shall rule all Ireland," was Henry's 
rejoinder. He kept his word. Earl Gerald went 
home a free man, restored to all his honours, and 
Lord Deputy besides. 

His successor, another Gerald, held hostage in 
England for his father's good faith, had been present 
at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, apparently in favour 
with Henry VIII. Summoned from Ireland, however, 
later on, to answer charges preferred against him, he 
found a lodging in the Tower ; and a report gaining 
currency that his execution was to follow, his son 
Thomas, not more than twenty years old — a young 
man, according to the chronicler, of considerable 
personal attraction and '*not devoid of wit, were it 
not, as it fell out in the end, that a fool had the 
keeping thereof" — promptly resigned the Vice-deputy- 
ship, with which he had been entrusted in his father's 
absence ; and, joined by two of his uncles, headed an 
insurrection. 

The folly, if such it were, of Lord Thomas cost 
his family dear. Not only, if the explanation given 
of his death is to be credited, did his father die of 
grief in his prison and find a foreign grave in the 
Tower, but five of his uncles, after the thorough and 
wholesale fashion of the day, were included in the 
sentence passed upon him ; and this though Holinshed 
declares that three of the number were known to 
have been opposed to his design. " But the enemies 
of their house," adds the historian, "incensed the 
King sore against it, persuading him that he should 



Xife of Xor5 £&war5 fit3®erald 17 

never conquer Ireland so long as any Geraldincs 
breathed in the country." 

Six of the family, therefore, suffered together at 
Tyburn, affording signal contradiction to the proud 
old boast, to the eflFect that Death himself, in un- 
assisted sovereignty and by means of no human 
instrument, would alone venture to lay hands upon 
a Geraldine : 

Who kiUed Kildare? 
Who dared Kildare to kill? 

Death killed Kildare, 
Who dares kill who he will 

But the work of extermination had, after all, been 
incomplete. Gerald FitzGerald, a young half-brother 
of the chief culprit. Lord Thomas, only twelve years 
old at the time, as well as a still younger child, 
escaped the general massacre, and lived to perpetuate 
the race, one more chapter having been added to the 
record of Ireland's wrongs. 

The history of the Kildare branch of the Fitz- 
Geralds from this date becomes less noteworthy. The 
King's advisers had possibly been wise in their genera- 
tion, and the old fighting spirit of the Geraldines in 
a measure broken by that sixfold execution at Tyburn. 
The family, indeed, had been left by it so popular 
that Robert Cowley, writing to the Secretary Cromwell 
in 1539, declared the English Pale, except the towns 
and very few of the " possessioners," to be " so 
affectionate to the Geraldines that they covet more 
to see a Geraldine to reign and triumph than to see 

2 



l^i^ rr 122 S^iLS TX3S<zzS 



• " '^T. vjic .i-Tv^:"! • _ iitc i^ Fr.glish 
--" 1- TT- T-T" -rr 1 rcr: rcsc^rbl fumre ; 

::s- r--. -jr^i; :rc:r I>scrccii cousins, 

: . rr. •- -*r- Tr;:r:w -iz^zr^ =cc tae English 

-r --rr- -:.z- Tic^ rn:? r^ -r^ci tish history 

:.-_ ~r-r Ttri^:- iurra-rcz orl, fought 

^-:— ,c-^Tic 7 — TTtL xzii "w^ n^sstoccd bv 

,T l.r=r: I-crzHT:. ZiZ&z tie Fcry Earl, 

Tr -T :;:inr:- rork part with the 

^-_ - r r^ J-zr-Ti:^. T^.'Zssi : t g e^^r^ under 

>: ; * - 1 T-: Ic zTir-^ sw.ci.t:es of the 

r^ ~TrJcr--a25 nazszae pctisuis of 

;-u-^: ,^-::TiEv ritf St r^iit Kicg and 

,. -. r .r^-. v-:^ XTT. r.r'v-Tcr. sore than 

.- . - .- "^ ■ -^ T'^?f:risi had paid, at 

'. -. - • - -^:.-i"?Sw rse Geraldines, 

• .- .-. ' . ■ ^- v.: : M.-,:r^i- venr counted 
*. . .,^ -•: --rr? ^i" the people; 
-. . « -. •.- - ;-.^i KJ-cane" — ^so 

-. ,. •. .-=^..7::- .-crr.e hia by the 

; . -^ •' ^-: -..--i vsiT^ earlier to 

V. ^- '-^ 7L-:,ir-. fishir:: than his 



Xife of Xor& £dwar& f it5®eral& 19 

mcnt, he had addressed a memorial to the King 
touching the proceedings of that ** greedy Churchman, 
Archbishop Stone." The remonstrance, though coldly 
received, was effectual, and some months later Stone's 
name was removed from the list of Privy Councillors. 

That Lord Kildare did not suffer, even in the 
estimation of those in power, by the boldness of 
his protest would seem to be proved by the honours 
subsequently conferred upon him ; while at home his 
popularity rose to such a height that it is recorded 
that he was an hour making his way through the 
crowd which filled the streets between Parliament 
House and his own, and a medal was struck to 
commemorate the presentation of his memorial. 

The great popularity enjoyed by Lord Edward's 
father was probably due to other causes besides those 
of a political nature. He resided almost altogether 
in Ireland, spending his money either in Dublin — 
where he built himself Leinster House and exercised 
a princely hospitality— or on his estate at Carton ; 
and the distinction of his manners was such, in their 
noble and attractive courtesy, that it was said that when 
in the presence of the Viceroys he gave the impression 
of being more Viceroy than they. 

In the year 1747, two years previous to the presenta- 
tion of his memorial to the King, he had married 
Lady Emilia Lennox, second daughter of the Duke 
of Richmond, a connection which exercised no little 
influence upon his son's subsequent career, bringing 
him, as it naturally did, into intimate relationship with 



90 Xffe or XorD SdvMKd ffl30enlb 

the great Whig families of Engbiid, and giving him a 
foothold on English life, both social and poKticaL 

lady Emilia was one cf a groi^ of sisters and half- 
•inters, two ot whom at least became, like herself, the 
nmthers of notable men ; and among Lord Edward's 
first cousins were included Charles James Fox and the 
Nii|iicr brothers, heroes of the Peninsular War. Lady 
Snruh Ixnnox, mother of these last, and a younger 
sifitcr of Lady Holland and the Duchess of Leinster, 
hm! Ixxn celebrated, in days when beauty was more 
of » |K)wer than is now the case, for her loveliness — 
•• more iKAutiful than you can conceive,** wrote Horace 
WaI|K)Ic enthusiastically ; although he allowed on 
another occasion that, with all the glow oi beauty 
peculiar to the family, she lacked features. It was this 
lady who had enjoyed the singular privilege of refusing 
the hand of a King — an opportunity of which she 
had availed herself in haste, to repent at leisure. 

It would seem that beauty was hereditary in the 
Lennox family, for one of Lady Sarah's sons, left for 
dead upon the battlefield, was described by an officer 
by whom he was discovered in that condition as more 
beautiful than any man he had ever seen or dreamed 
of ; and in another of Horace Walpole's letters we are 
given a picture of a group at a ball, made up of 
the Duchess of Richmond and her two daughters, 
Ml'tcrwards Duchess of Leinster and Lady Holland, 
luTt»rir the most beautiful of a beautiful trio ; while 
flir Diikc, her husband, showed his appreciation of his 
yond lortiinc by remaining all night at his wife's side. 



Xtfe of Xor5 £5war& jfit5®eral& 21 

kissing her hand — an exhibition of domestic afFection 
which must have been highly gratifying to the public 
sense of morality. 

The Lennoxes were, in truth, an affectionate race, 
the ties of blood possessing in their case peculiar 
strength, and surviving to an uncommon degree the 
separating forces of life and its vicissitudes. It is 
necessary to bear this circumstance in mind in con- 
nection with Lord Edward's future life, for it is likely 
enough that to this cause, and to the fact of his 
possession of so large a home circle, with many 
friendships made ready to his hand, may be ascribed 
the absence of any indication of the formation of 
strong or intimate outside ties. 

Of Lord Edward's childhood the details which have 
been handed down are few and meagre, nor are those 
which we possess of any special interest. Though he 
was born in London, if his marriage register is to 
be trusted, he must have been almost wholly brought 
up in Ireland so long as his father lived, and his 
earliest education was received at the hands of a 
tutor named Lynch. 

When he was no more than ten years old, however, 
the Duke of Leinster died, at the comparatively early 
age of fifty-one ; and in the following year, not more 
than ten months after his death, an event occurred 
which electrified society and must have had a consider- 
able effect upon the future of the FitzGerald family. 
This was the marriage of the new-made widow, the 
mother of nineteen children, and already arrived at the 









sctz^r:. jc !i=BC tar tl 
^=^ -xxi r :nc imsccfal stoi 

» ^-r-imim^ imc .rttr- ^=r^ ^ctxazl mr -wrusx he tc 
'r»*s«^ ■^'^^ is^ r^ -sc=i :2r -c-rcraor ir 3c3£zb2, m sinti 
■^ "^ "*i**- ^ '^a v^ T w * ^ ^ 'ixr jtSE ^na3», it wool 



<ar 



^o«£i»^ef < ^i»«rp«,4]|g^* s^,. ^^3P5^ ^^rct isr soke's tnti 



%Atc Of %ovb Bdward f ft^Gerald 23 

name is Ogleby. People wonder at her marriage, as 
she is reckoned one of the proudest and most expensive 
women in the world, but perhaps she thought it 
incumbent (as Lady Brown said of her Grace) to 
* marry and make an honest man of him.' I pity her 
poor children, and it is supposed that this wretched 
proceeding has made Lady Bellamont [Lady Emily 
FitzGerald, the Duchess's daughter] more ready to 
accept of that miserable match." 

Thus Mrs. Delany, acting as spokeswoman for 
the world, scandalised by the madness of which the 
Duchess had been guilty. The letters of Lady Sarah 
Lennox, recently published, throw a light upon the 
spirit in which the marriage was accepted by those 
who were more intimately concerned in it, as well 
as upon the fashion in which the afiair was carried 
through by a woman " whose good sense is enough 
known to make her conduct of some consequence." 

It appears that it had been through what Lady Sarah 
terms the impertinence of the Duchess's eldest daughter, 
the Lady Bellamont mentioned by Mrs. Delany, that 
matters had been brought to a crisis ; when her 
mother, '^forced to take un parti^'* confessed, with 
some spirit, to those whom it chiefly concerned, that 
it was very possible she might marry Mr. Ogilvie ; 
writing, further, when all was decided, to her brother 
in terms which, to a man of his affectionate disposition, 
were well calculated to disarm displeasure : " I am 
content," she said, " that you should call me a fool, 
and an old fool, that you should blame me and say you 



24 Xtfe of X:^r^ E^war^ ftcsGeaXb 

dill not think mc carabk Crf s^ich a toUjr ; talk me 
over, say what you plcaic, bu: remember that all I ask 
(}f ynu is your affection and tcr.icrr^css-" - 

That she did not make her denii.id in vain, other in 
the case of the Duke or of oiers of her famity, is pbdn 
("rnm the sequel. 

Of the man for whose sake she consdcred the world 
wrll Ifiit comparatively little is known. He was of 
f;iiii(| S((itch Moody had been rettimed to the Irish 
I'.iili.unnii hy Mr. Conolly, brother-in4aw to Ac 

I )iii hc->.'., and lH)re the character of being an efiective 
tspi Mki-r, with a clear, articulate voice and a strong 
'.liiiih .uient. With his accent he appears likewise 
hi h.ivr Itrou^rht from Scotland the shrewd common 
rii MM .iihl sulistantial qualities supposed to belong to 
liiri ii.KiMii.iliiy. It is certain, at all events, that neither 
thi Dm III-.-, iicir her ** poor children" had reason to 
ii|iiii( III I iin|M iiilence ; while the account given of 
tiini, Ml Hill- five years liter, by Lady Sarah Lennox, 
.ililniiirh lift (ivci fiattering, may serve in some measure 

II .III I i>|il.(ii.iiii>ii 1)1' the marriage. 

•' I li.nr MTn him," she writes, on the return of 
ilii iiiii|ili fiiHit .iltroad, ''and think him a very good 
'Hill III iii.in. ntii-.t situerely attached to her, which is 
.ill tuv liir.iiii-.'. Ill (he iiH'air ; hut she certainly did not 
III. II IV liiiii /,nf ;\twyur Jc ses beaux yeux^ for he is 
^•'v y\y\\ .iiul li.r. .i disaj^reeablc manner, but as 
■.In •..i\-., Miv iiiilv 1 l»elieve, he had known her so 
in.iiiv \i.ii'. Ill' iMiiKl iu)( possibly not know his mind^ 
' / i/i' anti Ixiten of i^uiy SttraA LcnKox\ Vol. L, p. 240. 



Xtfc of Xor& E5war& f it50etal& 



*5 



and his mind was to love her to adoration, and that's 
very captivating.'* ^ 

In spite, however, of the remarkable tolerance dis- 
played by the Lennox family, and in spite also of all 
that could be advanced in its favour, the marriage 
cannot have failed to be regarded by them in the light 
of a disaster ; and though there is no trace of any 
consequent estrangement between the Duchess and her 
relations, it is not unlikely that a few years' absence 
from England — a species of honourable banishment — 
may have been judged expedient before she should 
return to fill once more her place in society. 

Whether it was for that reason or not, the Fitz- 
IGeralds, shortly after the Duchess's marriage, quitted 
Ireland and took up their residence in France, occupy- 
ing a house possessed by the Duke of Richmond at 
Aubigny as Duke of that name, and placed by him 
at the service of his sister and her family. 

It was here that the remainder of Lord Edward's 
boyhood was passed, and it is possible that the warmth 
of his sentiments in after-years with regard to France — 
a bias not without its effect upon his career — may be 
due in part at least to the years spent by him on the 
banks of the Garonne. '* You and I,*' he wrote to 
his mother from Paris when claiming her sympathy 
on behalf of the Revolution — *' you and I always had 
a proper liking for the true French character." 

Whether or not it was an altogether wise measure 
to educate abroad a boy intended to take his place 
» Ibid, Vol I., p. 297. 



26 %itc ot %otb £&war& jfit^Geralt) 

in an English profession may be open to question; 
but besides the reasons connected with the Duchess's 
marriage, economical arguments may also have been 
taken into consideration in determining her temporary 
retirement ; for with so large a family of yoimg 
FitzGeralds — no less than nine sons and ten daughters 
had been born to the Duke, of whom many would 
still be on their mother's hands — to say nothing of 
two little Ogilvies shortly added to the tale, there was 
probably no superabundance of money available, even 
for purposes of education ; and Mr. Ogilvie, setting 
his shoulder to the wheel, and qualified, no doubt, 
by former experience for the task, seems to have kept 
Lord Edward's tuition entirely in his own hands. 

It speaks well for the pacific dispositions of both 
teacher and pupil that the hazardous experiment was 
attended with marked success. Lord Edward's 
affection for his mother's husband was only indeed 
second to that passionate devotion to herself which, 
lasting through every phase of his after-life, presents 
one of his most attractive features ; and writing to 
Mr. Ogilvie when the period of close association was 
at an end, and when, emancipated from parental 
control, he had joined his regiment and entered upon 
his military career, the boy made due acknowledgment 
of his obligations with sincerity none the less evident 
because couched in the formal language of the day. 

" Whatever [my sentiments] are," he wrote, after 
expressing his satisfaction at finding himself in accord 
with his step-father on the subject of their corre- 



Xife of %ovb lEbx^avb fltiOcvalb 27 

spondence — ^** whatever my sentiments are, as well as 
anything I have ever acquired, are mostly owing to 
your affection for me, both in forming my principles 
and helping my understanding ; for which the only 
return I can make is my love for you, and that, I 
am sure, you are perfectly convinced of." Nor is 
there at any subsequent date the smallest trace that 
divergent opinions or other causes ever produced a 
diminution of the unusual cordiality of a difficult 
relationship. 

Granted the inevitable isolation from all but family 
association of a boyhood passed in a French country 
neighbourhood, there was probably little wanting to 
make Lord Edward's a happy one. Brothers and 
sisters, older and younger, must have filled the house 
and found an ideal playground in the old Castle of 
Aubigny which stood near, if not adjoining, the more 
modern residence ; and the companionship of his mother 
would have gone far to make up for the absence ot 
the variety afforded by school life. 

The system of home education, notwithstanding 
all that may be argued to its disadvantage, is not 
without its compensations, especially in the case of 
a nature standing in as little need as that of Lord 
Edward of the rougher discipline a school supplies ; 
and to those early years passed under his mother's 
roof may be ascribed much of the abiding influence 
she exercised over him throughout his after-life, in- 
sufficient as it proved to avert the final catastrophe, 
as well as the clinging afl^ection and singular confidence 



28 Xffe of Xor5 £6warD fit30etal5 

which marked his rektions with her to the end. He 
bore through life the stamp of a man who has loved 
his home. 

Mr. Ogilvie appears to have been a practical man. 
His stepson had been destined from the first for the 
army, and his education was conducted throughout 
with a view to his future profession, to which he 
seems to have looked forward with eager anticipation. 
Even his amusements were brought to bear upon 
the art of war, and there is a letter extant to his 
mother in which he gives a description of the mimic 
fortifications with which, during her temporary absence 
from home, he had embellished the Duke of Rich- 
mond's orangery, together with an account of a 
" very pretty survey " which he had taken of the 
fields round the Garonne. The letter concludes 
with a half-apology for the boasting of which 
the writer had been guilty ; *' but you know," adds 
the boy cheerfully, "I have always rather a good 
opinion of what I do." 

In the last century, however, less time was wasted 
than is the case now over the preliminaries of life, 
and prefaces were apt to be cut short. At sixteen 
young FitzGerald had concluded his education, except 
in so far as those studies were concerned which might 
be combined with the possession of a commission in 
the army, and he was already in England, attached 
in the first place to a militia regiment of which his 
uncle, the Duke, was Colonel, and was turning to 
practical use the experience gained in the orangery 



Xtfc ot XorD EI>war5 jp(t5®cral& 



«9 



W 






fortifications and the Garonne survey. It would seem 
that under these new circumstances he succeeded in 
acquitting himself of his duties no less to his own 
satisfaction than formerly, as well as to that of his 
superior officer ; and judging from a letter to his 
mother, in which he gives a report of the proceedings 
of her ** dear, sweet boy/' it is to be inferred that 
the rude disciplinarianj Time, had not yet cured him 
of the habit of taking a favourable view of his own 
performances- 
Keen, however, as was his enjoyment of his initiation 
into military duties, he was none the less eager to 
be done with what he no doubt regarded in the light 
of a mere rehearsal of the real business of life, and to 
cut short his apprenticeship ; nor is it to be wondered 
at that, at a time when actual experience of warfare 
was to be gained at the other side of the Atlantic, 
he should not have been disposed to linger over the 
stage represented by service in a militia regiment at 
home. Impatient to begin soldiering in earnest, he 
had scarcely been appointed, on the completion of his 
seventeenth year, to a lieutenancy in the 26th Regiment, 
before he is found fretting at a life of enforced 
inaction and moving heaven and earth to get himself 
dispatched abroad on active service. 

Some necessary delay, however, took place before 
his wishes could be accomplished ; and in the meantime 
he was not backward in availing himself of such 
means of entertainment as were to be found within 
reach of his Irish quarters. As usual, he had nothing 




30 Xffe of %ovb £^war^ jf it3<9ecal5 

but good to report, both of his superior officer and 
of the place in which he found himself. Everybody 
had shown him great civility, and he had in especial 
managed to get particular enjoyment out of a visit 
to Lord Shannon's, where he had met his relation 
Lady Inchiquin, arrayed, so he asserted, in the self- 
same mtfrr^»-coloured gown she had been wearing 
when the FitzGerald departure from Ireland had taken 
place, though now altered in cut and made up into 
a jacket and petticoat. It would seem that Lord 
Edward's memory for clothes was good ! 

There had been another guest, besides poor Lady 
Inchiquin, at Lord Shannon's. For a considerable 
portion of Lord Edward's life it would not be unsafe 
to say that when he was not soldiering he was sure 
to be making love, and on this occasion he had made 
the acquaintance of a charming girl, the first of many, 
with whom, he assured the Duchess, he would, had 
he only had time, have fallen desperately in love ; 
owning himself, even in the absence of the necessary 
leisure, a little touched. In this case, too, no less 
than in respect to his military prowess, some trace of 
self-satisfaction is to be detected. As to what account 
of him Lady Inchiquin might give he confesses himself 
doubtful — one fancies his conscience accuses him of 
some ill-concealed ridicule of the antique marron^ 
coloured gown ; but of Miss Sandford's good word — 
so much more important — he feels himself secure. 

Yet, in spite of these distractions, and others, he 
was impatient to be gone, and, though in a less degree, 



Xite of Xor^ £^war^ jfft5(?eraI^ 31 

anxious upon the subject of promotion. He was 
already keenly interested in the details of his profession, 
and, young though he was, he took a serious view 
of his duties. Happy and hopeful as usual — " le plus 
gaV^ in his regiment, as he tells his mother, falling 
naturally into French after his long residence abroad — 
he had set himself to become a good soldier, and 
expected to succeed. 

** I am very busy," he wrote, " and have a great 
deal to do with my company, which, as the captain 
does not mind it much, is not a very good one, and 
I have taken it into my head that I can make it 
better. You will think me very conceited, but I 
depend greatly upon Captain Giles's instructions. . . . 
I think by the time I have served a campaign or two 
with him I shall be a pretty good officer." 

In the meantime he would have liked to have got 
a company of his own. He had already held for 
more than a month the position of lieutenant in his 
Majesty's army, was turned seventeen, and yet, so 
far as could be seen, there was no immediate prospect 
of his obtaining the promotion to which his brother, 
upon his behalf, ought to have had every right. 
Dilatory, however, as he considered the authorities 
in this respect, he was not so unwilling as he might 
otherwise have been to condone their neglect, owing 
to the apprehension lest promotion should interfere 
with his chance — a far more serious matter — of being 
speedily dispatched to the seat of war. One con- 
sideration, and one only, damped the exhilaration with 



32 Xite of Xor5 £^war^ f it5®ena5 

which he looked forward to the prospect of active 
service — the inevitable separation from his mother. 
Love for her was the only force that even for a 
moment came into competition with his sfnrit of 
adventure, and the two conflicting sentiments find 
expression in his letters. 

" How happy I should be to see her ! " he wrote, 
'' yet how happy I shall be to sail 1 ** And again, 
*' Dear, dear mother," he wrote from Youghall in 
answer to a letter the tenor of which it is easy to 
conjecture, since to the Duchess the impending sepanu 
tion can have had no compensations, ^^I cannot 
express how much your letter affected me. The only 
thing that could put me into spirits was the report 
that the transports were come into Cove." 

It was inevitable, however, that at seventeen and 
with a nature such as that of Lord Edward, the love 
of adventure should win the day. Even the delight 
of seeing his mother, he declared, would be enhanced 
by being preceded by an American campaign ; and 
early in the year 1781 he exchanged into the 19th 
Regiment, then expecting shortly to be ordered abroad. 
Leaving England in March, he landed in the month 
of June at Charleston, to take his share, in strange 
contradiction to the latter part of his career, in the 
war which England was carrying on against the 
independence of her American colonies. 



CHAPTER III 

1781—1783 

The American War — Opinions concerning it— Lord Edward 
at Charleston — Active Service — Dangerous Escapade — 
Wounded at Eutaw Springs — Tony — Early Popularity — 
St. Luda — Back in Ireland. 

THE end of the last century was a time when 
opinion moved rapidly. In the year 1798 the 
Duke of Norfolk, in proposing Mr. Fox's health at 
a great dinner of the Whig Club, mentioned in con- 
nection with his name that of another great man, 
Washington. ** That man," he said, " established 
the liberties of his countrymen. I leave it to you, 
gentlemen, to make the application." 

It is true that, in consequence of this speech, together 
with a toast which followed it, variously reported as 
" Our Sovereign — the People," or " The People — our 
Sovereign," the Duke was dismissed from the Lord 
Lieutenancy of the West Riding of Yorkshire ; but 
that such a speech should have been received with 
applause at an immense representative meeting is none 
the less a significant sign of the times. 

In the very month that the Duke's speech was 
made, the cousin of Fox, Lord Edward FitzGerald, 

33 3 



\x9 ^n^ ^ rxe yc«i3k2^ ar had reociTed in the cause 
jr wnac 3K xroily »xirped » he the " fiberties of his 
c:unc-rnisr. * Srrerflacx Tezrs evfier he had been 
wmnosi n Btcaesr itrsggk. viien fightii^ under the 
SrcsEt iv n Tmncirnt or tbc n^ts of England 
jvcr iier cdicimsk Ar tlat beer hour the com- 
psrsim ^ rxe rvc ccvecs Ksc whkh his Uood had 
>Kn icei wcuiii xesi 37 ^are been present with him ; 
iiic vncn X -rsioLY. ^csk Ttflr'ani ofidal of the Govem- 
3tcnc wTCt wiicin: ic lAi ^esi acqisaintcd in Chaiieston, 
T^cmimiei iim jr rrcac ciii difs^ he rq)lied — was it 
WTcrt A 5cn:»: ,^* A icec wrpai occ r — that it had been 
:ft X i!(firr;:nc ctu:^ naf le hai been wounded then ; 
^(tct ic rroc r.-m: le Xid S»i ^hting against liberty, 
•tow XT c 

IkiC w-u«^cr :nuT limr Seer tide case in after-life — 
X Ki > s >»^t2> tec 1 ToCin? rc» Sr trcubled by morbid 
vfxvNv: x*r 1 wTv«?u: c^^^^rxacly cooc — it is certain 
;>.u K.* <-v;^c< i:> r:* r^ justice of the quarrel in 
^ V v> h: ^:ts r.^ S: ;:f*c^§^i wen; Ekely to disturb the 
sxskskx'KV .^ :X' c•^'^^^:!^-vcl^-oI^i bov, or to interfere 
\%':N "^is >arsntci:v«t ri irrvirr^ hisrself at last at the 

I: v^x^ C?cc :''^.i: i^is cvn^rt Charles James Fox was 

nv^ oiilvx \^'ch :Kc rvs^t of h:^ party, bitterly c^pposed 

to the s:ru^U\ Njtc :cu:. with the imesponstbility 

of a $rAtcMiu.n Ml ho wvna^vicroi himself at the time 

iily and iiivlcfetMiccly cxciuvkvi from all participation 

Klical politics^ h<^ was tct the habtt of uang 

fgi whidi has been describcvi as that of a passion- 



Xffe ot Xor^ £^war^ fit3(?eraI^ 35 

ate partisan of the insurgents. ** If America should 
be at our feet," he wrote after some British victory, 
** which God forbid!" His uncle the Duke of 
Richmond, too, had expressed his opinion — thus indi- 
cating his view of the men by whom the war was 
carried on — that Parliament in its present temper would 
be prepared to establish a despotism in England itself ; 
and neither in society nor in the House did the Whig 
party make any secret of the goodwill they bore to 
the cause of the revolted colonies, some of the more 
extreme among them going so far as to make the 
reverses suffered by the British forces matter of open 
rejoicing. 

But to hold a theoretical opinion is one thing, 
to allow it to influence practical action quite another, 
and it is to be questioned whether the views enter- 
tained by his party and accepted by himself as to 
the injustice of the war would have had a more 
deterrent effect upon the average country gentleman 
in the choice of the army as a profession for one 
son than would have been exercised by the prevailing 
scepticism of the eighteenth century upon his intention 
of educating the other with a view to the family 
living. The one was a matter of theory, the other 
of practice, and it is astonishing to what an extent 
it is possible to keep the two in all honesty 
apart. 

Lord Edward's temperament, too, was essentially 
that of a soldier ; to obey without question or 
hesitation was a soldier's duty ; and especially when 



36 itte of Xor^ £&war5 ffHiicxaXb 

the duty enjoined upon him lay in the direction 
of active service he was not likely to examine over- 
curiously into the abstract right and wrong of the 
principle upon which the war was based. On the 
contrary, when the differences of opimon prevailing 
in England on the subject were forced upon lus 
attention, as, through his connection with the party 
in opposition, must often have been the case, he 
would dismiss them from his mind as wholly irrelevant 
to the more important question of personal duty ; 
reflecting, if he gave any thought at all to the 
matter, that whatever might have been the original 
rights of the quarrel, it was clearly the bu^ness of 
every soldier, since England had engaged in the 
conflict, to do his best that she should come out of 
it victorious. 

That she was not likely to do so was, by this 
time, except to the eyes of a boy of eighteen, plain. 
The eventual issue of the struggle was practically 
decided. Ever since the beginning of 1781 reverses 
had persistently followed the British arms ; while, with 
the assistance of France, success was declaring itself 
more and more emphatically on the side of America* 
By October of the same year the war was terminated 
by the surrender of the British forces under the 
command of Lord Cornwallis, and the colonies were 
free. 

At the time when Lord Edward landed with his 

regiment, four months earlier, no apprehension of 

I speedy a conclusion to hostilities was entertained. 



Itre ot Xotd £t>wait> fitsOeraU) 37 

Lord Rawdon, however, in command at Charleston, 
was so hard pressed that the officer in charge of the 
newly arrived regiments, instead of taking them 
to join the forces under Cornwallis, as had been 
originally intended, placed them at once at his dis- 
posal, with the result of some temporary successes 
to the British arms. 

To Lord Edward personally the change of plan 
was attended with favourable consequences. Having 
distinguished himself before long by the display of 
unusual readiness and skill in covering a retreat on 
the part of his r^ment, the performance made so 
advantageous an impression at headquarters that 
young FitzGerald was in consequence — other and 
more irrelevant circumstances being possibly taken 
into account — placed as aidenie'^amp on Lord 
Rawdon's staff, a position which afforded him the 
opportunity of serving his apprenticeship to active 
service under the eye of a general well adapted to 
instruct him in the craft. 

The fact that details of a personal nature are, at 
this period of his life, peculiarly scarce may account 
for the exaggerated importance which has been 
attached to a boyish escapade of which, brilliant 
and reckless though it may have been, many other 
lads with an equally adventurous spirit would have 
been capable. It is true that an interest not other- 
wise belonging to it may be lent to the incident by 
the later history of the hero ; for the exploit was 
distinguished by precisely that rash and heedless 



33 Xfte ot Xorb £^wat^ ftt50eraI^ 

gallantry which continued to mark his conduct when 
it had become no longer a question of his personal 
safety alone, but of the success or failure of the 
enterprise of which he was the chosen leader. 

It was when the English troops were engaged in 
effecting the relief of a fort invested by the American 
forces that the occurrence took place. A reconnaissance 
had been arranged ; and the Adjutant-General of Lord 
Rawdon's staffs, before setting out on it, sent to desire 
Lord Rawdon's aide^e^amp to accompany the ex- 
pedition. The aide-de^amp^ however, was nowhere to 
be found ; and after a fruidess search the party was 
proceeding on its way without him, when, at a distance 
of two miles from the camp, the culprit was discovered, 
having been executing a strictly private reconnaissance 
of his own, and engaged, at the moment of the 
arrival upon the scene of the English patrolling party, 
in a hand-to-hand fight with two of the enemy's 
irregular horse. His insubordination had come near 
to putting a premature end to his experience of war- 
fare. Saved, however, by the timely intervention of 
hin comrades from the consequences of his foolhardi- 
ncHH, he submitted, with much show of penitence, to 
the severe reprimand administered by his commanding 
officer for the misdemeanour of which he had been 
guilty in absenting himself from the camp without 
permission ; and so conducted himself that, in spite 
of his delinquency, he succeeded in obtaining leave to 
accompany the present expedition. " It was impossible 
to refuse the fellow," confessed the Adjutant-General, 



Xfte ot Xor^ £^war^ jfit3(?eraI^ 39 

in telling the story, ** whose frank, manly, and 
ingenuous manner would have won over even a greater 
tyrant than myself." 

There were in after-days, one imagines, not a few 
persons who found it difficult to refuse to Lord Edward 
that which he desired to obtain ! 

On Lord Rawdon's return to England, his young 
aide-de-^amp rejoined his regiment, and, fighting in 
the battle of Eutaw Springs, received the wound to 
which he alluded in his Newgate cell. It was also on 
the same battlefield that he gained a lifelong friend. 
Found lying there insensible by a negro, he was carried 
by the man to his own hut and was by him nursed 
back to life. The two were never afterwards parted, 
and throughout Lord Edward's whole subsequent 
history runs the thread of the doglike and devoted 
fidelity of " Tony " to his master. 

There is indeed apparent at this period, as at every 
other, the special gift he possessed in so singular a 
degree — that, namely, of winning affection from all those 
with whom he was brought into contact. It was not 
only black Tony who felt his charm ; and a remarkable 
testimony to the position he held amongst his comrades 
is furnished by Sir John Doyle, the same officer who 
had been unable to find it in his heart to punish the 
boy for his breach of discipline by refusing him per- 
mission to accompany the reconnoitring party. Sir 
John, as Adjutant-General on Lord Rawdon's staff, 
had had special opportunities of forming an opinion of 
the General's aide-de-campy and the evidence he bears 



40 Xtfe Of Xorb S6watd fftsOotOJb 

to his extraordinary popularity as well as to his gallantry 
b worth quoting. 

"I never knew so lovable a person," he wrote, 
**and every man in the army, ftt>m the general to 
the drummer, would cheer the expresuon. His 
fi*ank and open manner, his universal benevolence, his 
gaiii de ccruty his valour almost chivalrous, and, above 
all, his unassuming tone, made him the idol of all 
who served with him. He had great animal spirits, 
which bore him up against all fatigue ; but his courage 
was entirely independent of those spirits — it was a 
valour sui generisJ*' 

The popularity thus described, while due no doubt 
in some measure to those winning qualities which 
are independent of training, may nevertheless be cited 
as additional proof that the system of home educa- 
tion which had been pursued in his case, and which 
had fostered the clinging affections and the gentleness 
which lasted through life, had been productive of 
none of the ill effects which sometimes make themselves 
apparent when a lad who has been thus brought up 
is thrown upon the world and forced to find his own 
level. The total absence of arrogance or self-asser- 
tiveness, upon which Doyle lays special stress, was at 
all times one of his marked features, and no doubt 
had its share in contributing to that influence over 
men of all classes which is essential to the leader of 
a party. 

Lord Edward's experience of actual warfare, though 
exciting so long as it lasted, was not destined to be 



I4te cf %otb £^war^ f itsOetal^ 41 

prolonged. In the autumn came the surrender of 
the British forces at Yorktown; and he was sent 
some little time later — it does not appear at what 
exact date — ^to occupy a post upon the staff of General 
0*Hara at St. Lucia* 

The work to be done on the West Indian island 
was chiefly that of erecting fortifications ; and was 
probably found by the young soldier somewhat tame 
in comparison with the excitement of the American 
campaign. As usual, however, he cordially liked his 
new chief, who put him a little in mind of *'dear 
Mr. Ogilvie," and who must have been possessed of 
attractions of his own ; since, some thirteen years 
later, he broke the heart of Miss Berry, the friend 
of Horace Walpole, whose engagement to O'Hara 
is said to have constituted the one romance of her 
life. So constant, indeed, did she remain to her 
faithless lover, in spite of his repudiation, without 
explanation or excuse, of the relations between them, 
that, years afterwards, on receiving the sudden news 
of his death she fell down in a dead faint. 

It was not only in the eyes of the woman who loved 
him and who described him as the most perfect 
specimen of a soldier and a courtier that O'Hara 
possessed singular merits. Lord Cornwallis also re- 
corded his high opinion of the services he had rendered, 
and of his success in reconciling the Guards to the 
endurance of every species of hardship. He is 
therefore likely to have proved a chief after Lord 
Edward's own heart, both from a social and military 



42 Xite ot Xor^ £5watd f ttsOerald 

point of view ; and, granted the inevitable drawback 
of withdrawal from active service, everything at St. 
Lucia was much to the ncwcomer*s liking, with the 
exception of ** three blockheads who were pleased to 
call themselves engineers," and who supplied his one 
cause of legitimate discontent. 

The mastery he possessed over the French language 
was the means of providing him with a greater amount 
of variety than fell to the lot of his brother-officers ; 
for he was sent, in consequence of it, in charge of 
prisoners and under a flag of truce, to the French 
quarters at Martinique, where he passed a very 
pleasant time, being as well received, or if possible 
better, than had that peace been concluded which 
was already a grave cause of anxiety and " frightened 
everybody." 

By reason, doubtless, of its nationality, Martinique 
appears to have been a gayer resort than St. Lucia. 
The young envoy was at balls every night during his 
mission to the island, and found the women pretty 
and well dressed, besides being — he is careful to make 
the assertion on the authority of the French officers, 
but one may be justified in believing that their report 
had been corroborated by personal experience — " to use 
dear Robert's ^ words, ' vastly good-natured.' " 

Lord Edward himself, like his brother, had probably 

little cause to complain of lack of good nature on 

the part of women ; nor had he as yet made the 

discovery that their kindness, in the case of a 

^ Lord Robert FitzGerald, his brother, younger by two years. 



Itte ot %ovb lEbwmb f it3(?eraI^ 43 

younger son possessed of restricted means, is liable 
to limitation. 

In the comparative seclusion of St. Lucia, and with 
leisure to turn his mind to such matters, his thoughts 
again reverted to the subject of promotion. His views 
on the question had enlarged since he had last occupied 
himself with it in Ireland, and a company in the Guards 
was now the object of his ambition. A lieutenancy 
he would not so much as accept as a gift. He could 
not but consider it somewhat strange, to say the least 
of it, that, having been now nearly four years in the 
service — though he based no daim upon this circum- 
stance — he had received no company ; and being 
by this time on the way to complete his twentieth 
year, he naturally felt aggrieved at the neglect with 
which he had been treated. One detects the exist- 
ence of a covert threat in the scheme unfolded to 
his mother of a plan for seeking in the East Indies, 
likely before long to become a stirring scene of 
action, the advancement in his profession which 
was so unaccountably withheld from him in other 
quarters. 

It is clear that he considered that his relations had 
been remiss in pressing his claims upon the authorities 
at home. The Duke of Richmond had declined to 
interfere — a determination in which his nephew, viewing 
the matter dispassionately, could not but consider him 
mistaken ; and her spoilt boy even seems to suspect 
the Duchess herself of supineness in the matter. His 
letters are nevertheless as full of affection as ever. 



44 Itte or Xorb EMimr^ ftts^ctaXb 

" What would I not give to be with you," he writes, 
only a month after that astute hint had been thrown 
out as to a lieutenant-colonelcy to be had in the East 
for the asking — "what would I not give to be with 
you, to comfort you, dearest mother 1 But I hope the 
peace will soon bring the long-wished-for time " — the 
peace, observe, the prospect of which "frightened 
everybody." " Till then my dearest mother will not 
expect it." 

There is a curious touch of prudence — the prudence 
which recognises and gauges its own limits — in the 
allusion made to some wish apparently expressed by the 
Duke his brother that he should return to England on 
the attainment of his twenty-first year and set his 
money affairs in order. The question of the sale of an 
estate he had inherited appears to have been raised, and 
is the occasion of the frank opinion he expresses as to 
his own capacity for the management of financial 
business. 

" I shall tell him," he writes to the Duchess, " that 
any arrangement he may make with your consent I 
shall always attend to. I own, if I were to sell entirely, 
I should feel afraid of myself; but, on the contrary, 
if I were to have so much a year for it, I think I should 
get on more prudently. ... As to going home " — on 
this point he is decided — " I shall certainly not go 
home about it." 

Though not with the object of making a settlement 
of his money matters, Lord Edward did in fact return 
to Ireland even before the date desired by his brother. 



Xife ot %otb £^war^ f ft5(?etaI^ 45 

By the spring of the year 1783 he was at home again, 
having been absent nearly two years, and bringing back 
with him the experience of active military operations 
which he had been anxious to acquire, and which he 
expected to prove of so much service to him in years 
to come. 



CHAPTER IV 

1783— 1786 

Returned to Parliament — ^Life in Ireland — ^Tedium — ^The Con- 
dition of the Country — Westminster Election — ^Lord 
Edward's Family— Lord Edward in Love-^At Woolwich 
—In the Channel Islands — Letters to his Mother. 

IT was in the summer of 1783, a few months 
after his return to Ireland, that Lord Edward's 
political career may be said to have been formally 
inaugurated, by his finding himself a member of the 
new Parliament, returned to it by his brother the 
Duke as member for Athy. 

In its ultimate consequences the event was of the 
last importance, turning, as in course of time it must 
necessarily have done, his attention to the condition 
of the country and its relations to England. But at 
the present moment it was another aspect of the afBur 
by which he was principally affected. 

Life in Ireland, in Parliament or out of it, pre- 
sented a violent contrast to that which he had lately 
led. Lord Toward frankly confessed that he foimd 
the tedium of that life intolerable. It was no wonder, 
't does not appear that he formed any close friend- 
B, at least as yet, among the men who were to 

46 



Xtfe of Xor5 £bwar5 jrit30eraI5 47 

be his associates at a later date ; nor, though he was 
punctual in his attendance at the House, and from 
the first consistent in his adherence to the popular 
side, was he likely at twenty- one to find politics 
sufficiently engrossing to compensate for the absence 
of the excitement of the last two years. It is more 
probable that he regarded them chiefly in the light 
of an interruption to the serious business of life, 
represented by the art of killing, and, in case of 
necessity, being killed, after the most approved method 
of military science. 

Possibly, as he felt himself insensibly drawn into 
the current of the interests of those by whom he 
was surrounded, the distaste with which he regarded 
his new environment may have been modified ; but 
at the outset his sentiments were plainly enough 
expressed. 

" I have made fifty attempts to write to you," he 
tells his mother, just then in England, in a letter 
dated from his brother's house, " but have as often 
failed, from want of subject. Really a man must 
be a clever fellow who, after being a week at Carton 

and seeing nobody but Mr. and Mrs. B , can 

write a letter. If you insist on letters, I must write 
you an account of my American campaigns over 
again, as that is the only thing I remember. I am 
just now interrupted by the horrid parson, and he 
can find nothing to do but to sit at my elbow." 

For once, it is clear, Lord Edward's sweet temper 
was ruffled. The only thing which he thoroughly 



48 life or Xor& £dwar& jTitiOeralft 

approved, as we find from a letter a month later, was 
of his mother's intention of giving up going abroad 
in order to bear him company in Ireland. Her 
presence, he told her, was the only thing that could 
make him happy there. When she was absent he 
found home life very insipid. 

Yet the situation in Ireland, in Parliament and out 
of it, was one which might have been expected to 
vary the monotony of existence, and to impart to it 
some flavour of excitement, especially to one who 
might look to have a hand in the direction of 
afllidrs. 

During the previous year Parliamentary independence 
had been won. But to be effective, as events too 
clearly proved, it should have been accompanied by 
reform. A situation under which the members of 
the Upper House returned, for their pocket boroughs, 
a majority of those of the Lower, was a travesty of 
Parliamentary government. Opinions, however, differed 
as to the next step to be taken. Within the walls of 
the House itself party spirit was running so high that 
only by the interposition of Parliament was a duel 
between Flood and Grattan, the two great popular 
leaders, averted. The country at large was in a 
condition of ferment and agitation, alike constitutional 
and the reverse ; and in some parts was so given over 
to lawlessness that, to cite one instance alone, it had 
been possible for the notorious George Robert Fitx- 
Gerald — a connection by marriage of the Duke of 
Leinster's — to keep his father, with whom he had had 



Xife of Xorb JE^war^ jTitsi^eralb 49 

a disagreement, in confinement for the term of five 
months, and, with cannon mounted round the house 
where he was imprisoned, to defy for that period 
the action of the authorities. The Volunteer movement, 
too, was at its height, losing daily more and more of 
its original character, to assume an attitude of hostile 
menace towards the Government, while Dublin itself 
was in so turbulent a condition that outrages in the 
streets were of daily occurrence. 

All this, one would imagine, must have offered a 
variation to the routine of daily life during the first 
year of Lord Edward's initiation into Parliamentary 
afiairs. Nor were other incidents wanting to break the 
monotony which might have attached to it — incidents 
such as that which occurred in November, 1783, when 
that strange and picturesque personage, Lord Bristol, 
Bishop of Deny — one of the most anomalous figures 
of the day — drove into Dublin to attend the Volunteer 
Convention in royal state, in a carriage drawn by six 
horses with purple trappings, and escorted by a troop 
of volunteer dragoons under the command of that very 
FitzGerald, his nephew, who had successfully held 
the sheriiFs officers at bay. Dressed in purple, with 
diamond ornaments, the Bishop halted at the door of 
Parliament House, saluting with royal dignity those 
members — Lord Edward, perhaps, amongst them — who, 
startled by the blast of trumpets which had heralded 
his approach, had crowded to the door to ascertain 
the cause of the unusual tumult. 

Of the impression made upon the new member by 

4 



50 Xtfe of Xor5 £5war5 jrft3<BeraI& 

such events as these our means of forming a conjecture 
are scanty. That his sympathies were not, so fiu-, 
engaged on the side represented by the more recent 
developments of the Volunteer movement may be 
inferred from a passage in a letter of December, 1783, 
in which Horace Walpole informs his correspondent 
that '' Lord Edward FitzGerald told me last night 
that he fears the Volunteers are very serious, sans 
compter the spirits which the late revolution here may 
give them." He never took part at this time in the 
debates in the House, and there is a gap in his 
correspondence with his mother, by which light might 
have been thrown on the subject, explained by the 
fact that during the next two years his home was for 
the most part made, though not without intervals spent 
in London or Dublin, with the Duchess and Mr. 
Ogilvie at their Irish residence, Frescati. 

One of his visits to London, occurring during the 
year which succeeded his return to Ireland, was spent 
after a fashion which must have afforded a welcome 
relief to the monotony of which he complained. 
In the General Election of 1784, when the contest 
in Westminster was attracting more attention than 
any other throughout the kingdom. Lord Edward 
was one of those engaged in canvassing the constitu- 
ency on behalf of his cousin Charles James Fox — a 
circumstance mentioned by Lord Holland as having, 
coupled with certain proceedings of his nephew's in 
the Irish House of Commons, caused considerable 
annoyance to the Duke of Richmond, at the time 



%Atc Of Xor5 £6wat5 jrit3(?eraI5 s' 

a supporter of the Tory party. It is further hinted 
by the same authority that the Duke gave practical 
proof of this annoyance at a later date, in matters 
connected with the professional advancement of the 
culprit. 

Whether or not this was the case, the excitement 
supplied by the fight must have afforded Lord Edward 
ample compensation for any displeasure testified by 
his uncle then or thereafter. G^urt and Government 
were united in the strength of their opposition to 
Fox's candidature ; while among the powerful ad- 
herents who threw the weight of their personal 
influence into the balance in favour of the Whigs 
were the Prince of Wales and the beautifiil Duchess 
of Devonshire. 

It was a hard struggle, and when the popular 
candidate was returned, though not at the head of 
the poll, his success was celebrated by a procession 
to Devonshire House, graced by the ostrich feathers 
of the Heir-apparent, by fetes at Carlton House itself, 
and by a dinner at Mrs. Crewe's, in which the royal 
supporter appeared wearing the Whig colours. At 
all these festivities in honour of the victory he had 
helped to win, Lord Edward doubtless assisted, before 
returning reluctantly to the routine of ordinary life 
at Dublin. 

If, however, existence there was not without its 
drawbacks, there was another side to it ; and as he 
grew more habituated to life under its new conditions, 
and as the reaction from the exhilaration afforded by 



52 Xife of Xocd Seward fitiOevald 

the camp^gning experiences of the last two years 
became less oppressive, he must have recognised the 
fact that Ireland, especially to a man of his social 
temperament, oflered advantages of its own. 

Whatever society was to be had, in Dubtin or 
elsewhere, was naturally open to him ; and many 
members of his own family were settled, from 
one cause or another, within reach. The Duke of 
Leinster lived principally in his own country, thus 
setting an example to less patriotic landlords — ** a 
most amiable private gentleman, and a good and 
quiet man/' as a contemporary describes him, *^ spend- 
ing his rents in Ireland, and justly idolised." Lord 
Edward's aunt, too, Lady Louisa, who, herself child- 
less, bore her nephew an affection only less than 
that of his mother, had married Mr. G>nolly, of 
Castletown, near Dublin, said to be the wealthiest 
landed proprietor in the country ; and another of 
the Lennox sisterhood. Lady Sarah — now married, 
for the second time, to a Napier — ^also made her 
home in Ireland, her rare beauty so little impaired 
by the lapse of years that the Prince of Wales, meeting 
in 1 78 1 the woman who, as he said, pointing to 
Windsor Castle, '* was to have been there," expressed 
his approval of his father's taste, and his conviction 
that, even in those distant days, she could not have 
been more fair. 

It has already been observed that in Lord Edward*8 
family the ties of blood possessed peculiar force ; and 
•^hc opportunities of constant intercourse with those 



%AU Of Xotd £5ward jrit3<Beral5 53 

he loved must have served to some extent to reconcile 
him to his present surroundings. His stepfather, 
indeed, went so far as to assert that this particular 
period constituted the happiest time in the lives of 
any of the three — himself, his stepson, and his wife — 
who loved each other so well. Whether or not Lord 
Edward would have altogether endorsed the statement, 
it is not unlikely that it was approximately true. He 
was twenty-one, launched in a profession of which 
he was proud, and in which he had already achieved 
a certain amount of distinction. He was living under 
the same roof as a mother he adored. And lasdy, 
and most important of all, he was in the full swing 
of his first serious love affair ; and, threatened with 
disappointment though his hopes might be, still, ^^les 
beaux jours quand fetais si malheureux " are not un- 
fi"equendy the best worth having of a man's life. 

The tedium of existence at home had left but one 
thing to be done. It was an expedient for which Lord 
Edward's nature fortunately offered special facilities. 
He had accordingly resorted to it without loss of 
time. He fell in love. 

The heroine of this preliminary romance was Lady 
Catherine Meade, daughter of Lord Clanwilliam, and 
afterwards married to Lord Powerscourt. Of Lady 
Catherine herself little is known, and that little chiefly 
from the letters of her lover, written at a time when, 
in the beginning of the year 1786, three years after 
his return to Ireland, he was parted from his mother, 
having placed himself at Woolwich with a determina- 



54 life of Xocd JEtmaxb fftsSeaSb 

tion there to pursue a regular course of study. A 
military career was that to whidi he still looked 
forward, and it is plain that he regarded his Parlia- 
mentary duties in the light of a more or less irrelevant 
interlude. 

It does not appear what share his mother had in 
deciding him upon his present step ; but it was pro- 
bably not a small one. Lord Edward, it is true, was 
his own master. He had reached an age which, a 
hundred years ago, represented a stage far more 
advanced than at present, when, at twenty-three, a 
man is often only just leaving college, and setting 
himself for the first time to make his reckoning with 
the facts and possibilities of life and to decide upon 
his future profession. He had already seen active 
service, and had occupied for more than two years 
the position of a member of Parliament. In financial 
matters he was independent of either profession or 
family ; his income, amounting to something like eight 
hiuulrcd a year, though a small enough patrimony for 
a iluke's son, and wholly inadequate to incline Lord 
Clanwilliam to entrust him with the future of his 
daughter, being amply sufficient to supply his wants 
so long as he remained unmarried. 

Yet in spite of all this there was about him a 
singular and attractive absence of that assertive spirit 
of independence or that desire to emancipate himself 
from home influence or control which is so common a 
feature of the age which he had reached. *^ As humble 
as a child " — if humility were indeed a quality of 



Xffe of Xor5 £5war5 jrit3(?etaI5 55 

childhood, which may be questioned — ^was part of a 
description given of him at a much later date, when 
he occupied the post of the recognised chief of the 
national party in Ireland ; and at every stage of his 
career it would seem to have been a true one. 

The deference he uniformly showed to his mother's 
opinions, so long as such deference did not imply 
a surrender of principle, should be borne in mind, 
since it accentuates the strength of the convictions 
which afterwards forced him into an attitude of 
opposition, not only to the views of the Duchess, but 
of most of those he held dear. 

To his mother he continued for the present to refer 
all his projects, all his schemes ; and it is clear that 
he would not at this time have entered upon any plan 
of life which should not have received the sanction of 
her approval. 

A curious proof of the strength of the influence she 
retained is furnished by a letter in which his dread is 
expressed of a corresponding power, should it be 
exerted by Lady Clanwilliam over her daughter in a 
direction adverse to his hopes. 

** Suppose you were here," he writes, " and to say 
to me, ' If you ever think of that girl, I will never 
forgive you,' what should 1 do ? even I, who dote on 
Kate ! " 

Whether her son's attachment to Lady Catherine 
had the Duchess's approval ; or whether, which is more 
probable, perceiving it to be hopeless, it was by her 
advice that Lord Edward repaired to England — a plan 



■iuiii powipwefl I3ir 4t>iJiiWr a^isatigc of jflndiiig luiii 
a& opportizmtT of -pamcag ^aabay rtoifies and of 
bcisg niraaliigad tt> pnct a cvi2t gkI to an anir wnidi 
Ae proboblT reg:xr5ed 3& aao tot serious figbt— can 
cmij be macer of uupjaxm c What b oertnn b that» 
if the o bClq jlion of Ladr Cadicrine*s image had been 
her object, her ruiwialMaa vcre IiiDt justified bjr 
the erent. 

At first, indeed, it might hare seemed likely to 
prove othenrise. Lord Edward was gcnuineljr and 
honestly in love. It was not his custom to sofier in 
silence, and his letters to his mother reflect faidifuUy, 
and with a charming and naive anceritr, die fluctuations 
to which he was subject, an^ the varying phases of his 
mind, ranging from heart-broken discouragement to 
complete recovery. 

Mr. Ogilvie was at first also in London, having 
proln&hly accompanied his stepson to England ; and 
the two H{H:nt some time together before Lord Edward 
carried into effect his intention of entering himself at 
Woolwich. 

It waH spring and London at its gayest Lord 
lulward was full of engagements, dining out every 
(iuy unci (lancing all night. But all this, he was 
turcful to explain, did not afford him the slightest 
rnjoymcnt ; nothing now interested him in what he 
•• UHcrd to call a life of pleasure " ; so little was his 
attention engaged in what he was doing that he was 
(otiMtantly late for dinner wherever he dined. In 
If. Ogilvic's society alone he found real satisfaction. 



%U€ Of xord Edward fitsGerald 57 

He complained indeed that his step-father was not 
at all soft or tender ; but " I make him talk of Kate, 
whether he will or not " — poor Mr. Ogilvie ! — ^* and 
indeed of you all. I find, now I am away, I like 
you all better than I thought I did." And then 
once more he recurs to his own grievances. "I 
never think of going to anything pleasant myself; 
1 am led to it by somebody. I depend entirely upon 
other people, and then insensibly y^ nC amused 

There were few situations from which, whether 
sensibly or not, Lord Edward did not succeed in 
extracting some amusement, but at the present 
moment he really seems to have been too much de- 
jected to find it in London society ; at any rate, he 
presently repaired to Woolwich, to try whether work 
might be more to his taste than what, at twenty- 
three, he had ceased to call pleasure. 

At first little improvement is perceptible in his 
condition ; and from the tenor of his letters one 
might almost be led to suspect that, if the Duchess 
had had a hand in sending him away, he was bent 
upon demonstrating to her the fruitlessness of the 
experiment. He is, he tells her, very busy — it is, 
in fact, his only resource, for he has no pleasure in 
anything. He acts upon her advice and tries to 
drive away care, but without success. And then 
comes the first confession of some symptoms of 
amendment. ** My natural good spirits, however, 
and the hopes of some change, keep me up a little." 
And he hopes the Duchess will make him as happy 



58 Xife of Xor5 Edward fitsOcxaVb 

as she can by giving accounts in her letters — ^it is 
easy to guess of what. 

**I need not say," he goes on, "I hope you are 
kind to pretty dear Kate ; I am sure you are. I 
want you to like her almost as much as I do — it 
is a feeling I always have with people I love ex- 
cessively. Did you not feel to love her very much, 
and wish for me, when you saw her look pretty at 
the Cottage?** 

By July Mr. Ogilvie had returned to Ireland ; and, 
unable to depend any longer upon his stepfather to 
send home reports of his proceedings, he was forced 
to take to more regular letter-writing on his own 
account. " By the way, I wish Tony could write,*' 
he says in parenthesis ; though whether the fiuthfiil 
Tony*s reports of his master*s condition would have 
reconciled the Duchess to silence on his own part 
may well be questioned. He was working very 
hard — a change, no doubt, after two years in Dublin 
with nothing to do except to give his vote when 
required — but confessed candidly that, if he had le 
caur content^ a life of idleness and indolence was the 
one which suited him best. He evidently entertained 
some apprehensions as to the effect of her husband*s 
masculine common sense upon his mother and her 
letters. She was not to let Ogilvie spoil her by 
telling her she " would be the ruin of that boy.** 
If the Duchess minded her husband and did not go 
on writing pleasant letters, always saying something 
about Kate, he would not answer her — would not 



%itc of Xord £^war^ f itsOetald 59 

indeed write at all. Here, however, another con- 
fession is made — ^he was not in such bad spirits as 
in London. •* I have not time hardly. In my 
cvening*s walk, however, I am as bad as ever." The 
nature of that walk he had explained in a letter to 
his brother ; " but upon my honour," he adds, " I 
sometimes think of you in it " — ^which assurance 
is perhaps all that can be looked for by a mother 
whose son is in love. "I wish, my dear mother," 
he goes on, suddenly throwing Woolwich and military 
advancement and all else to the winds — " I wish you 
would insist on my coming to you." 

The Duchess did not " insist " upon it ; and in the 
summer the Duke of Richmond, making an official 
survey of the Channel Islands, took his nephew 
with him. 

Further amendment in the state of Lord Edward's 
spirits was duly reported to his mother from St. Helier. 

*' I have been in much better spirits," he confesses 
frankly, "everything being new. ... I shall get a 
great deal of knowledge of a part of my profession 
in this tour ; for the Duke goes about looking at 
all the strong places, and I have an opportunity of 
hearing him and Colonel MoncriefFe talk the matter 
all over." 

He was still, however, unfeignedly anxious to get 
home, though he would not carry his wishes into 
effect against the Duchess's judgment ; and she, no 
doubt fortified by Mr. Ogilvie's representations, was 
proof against his importunities. 



6o xtfe or Xord £MPatD fttsOexaXb 

"Don't you think 1 might come home after this 
tour ? " he asks persuasively. " 1 b^n now, my 
dearest mother, to wish much to see you ; besides, 
I think that, after all this, I could do a great deal 
of good at Black Rock, as my nund has reaUy taken 
a turn for business. Thinking of Kate disturbs me 
more than sedng her would da I do really love 
her more, if possible, than when I left you. ... I 
must come home ; it is the only chance I have against 
la dragonne ** (Lady Clanwilliam). 

Besides, he proceeds to demonstrate, making use 
of a line of argument which might be expected to 
appeal, more strongly than his desire to circumvent 
Lady Clanwilliam, to the authorities at home, he 
never worked so well as with Ogilvie ; and his 
mathematics, especially necessary in his profession, 
would gain more by his stepfather's instructions than 
by those of any teacher on the other side of the 
Channel. Ogilvie, of course, he adds, with a touch 
of petulance, would be against his coming ; " but no 
matter, you will be glad to have me on any terms, 
and I am never so happy as when with you, dearest 
mother/' 

It says much for the Duchess's strength of mind 
that she was unconvinced by this fond flattery. 
She evidently refused to listen to the voice of the 
charmer, charmed he never so wisely, for in August 
Lord Edward was. back again in England, detained 
at Goodwood, the Duke of Richmond's house, by a 
sprained ancle. " I do think, what with legs and 



Itfe of Xorb £&ward f itjOeralD 



6i 



Other things," he told his mother, *' I am the most 
unlucky dog that ever lived/' 

He set to work again, nevertheless, this time at 
mechanics, and appears to have put the idea of a 
present return to Ireland out of his head. He had, 
indeed, started another scheme, concerning which he 
was, as usual, anxious to have his mother's opinion- 
He was, like some other people, very wise on paper. 

Goodwood was full of temptations to idleness ; 
Stoke, another uncle's house, even more alluring, and 
**/> suis foible'^ What would the Duchess think of his 
going for four months, till the meeting of Parliament 
in January, to study at a Scotch university, where he 
would be able to give his whole mind to work ? It 
was a scheme which offered many advantages. There 
were, however, drawbacks to the plan, of which he 
possibly became more conscious so soon as he had 
reduced it to black and white. It was three months 
since he had seen his mother ; four more would be 
*' a great while/* If she decided upon passing the 
interval before the meeting of Parliament abroad — 
suddenly the Scotch university fades out of sight as 
if it had never existed — he was determined to go also 
and remain with her till recalled by his Parliamentary 
duties* 

If he had been three months absent from his mother, 
there was some one else from whom he had likewise 
been absent for the like period, and that was Lady 
Catherine Meade ; and though he was careful to protest 
that his sentiments with regard to her had remained 



62 xite of %oxb £^war^ f itsGetald 

unalterably the same, a rival attraction, towards the end 
of August, had begun to make itself felt. He was 
right when, in planning that visit to Scotland, he had 
anticipated distractions, should he remdn in his present 
surroundings. In these matters, as well as in those 
relating to money, he placed a just estimate upon his 
powers of resisting temptation, whether to extravagance 
or to idleness. Besides, "i/ on rCa fas ce quon aime^ 
il faut aimer ce quon tf *' ; and it was not likely that 
a man of Lord Edward's temperament should find 
himself for long together without an object for his 
affections from which he was not separated by the 
breadth of the Irish Channel. 

That the possibility of infidelity had begun to make 
itself felt was apparent, not only in his protestations 
of changelessness, but also in the credit he took to 
himself for the fact that, though he had been staying 
at Stoke, the house of his uncle Lord George Lennox, 
and had there enjoyed opportunities of intercourse with 
Lord George's three daughters, he still remained 
faithful. 

"Though I have been here ever since the Duke 
went," he writes, not without some pride, *'I am as 
constant as ever, and go on doting upon her ; this 
is, I think, the greatest proof I have given yet. Being 
here has put me in much better spirits, they are so 
delightful." 

And most delightful of all was Georgina Lennox, 
the youngest of the sisters, then about twenty-one. 
Giving a description of this niece some six years earlier, 



Xtfe ot Xord B^ward f itsOerald 63 

Lady Sarah Napier had mentioned that she was con- 
sidered to be very like herself, which would seem 
to imply that she was gifted with her full share of 
the family beauty ; and with the wit, the power of 
satire, and the good-nature with which she was said, 
even at fifteen, to be endowed, she must have been 
a dangerous rival to the absent Lady Catherine. A 
fortnight later than the last letter quoted another was 
written, which contained a clear foreshadowing of the 
end, though still accompanied by the protestation of 
unalterable attachment. 

" I love her more than anything yet, though I have 
seen a great deal of Georgina. I own fairly I am 
not in such bad spirits as I was, particularly when I 
am with Georgina, whom I certainly love better than 
any of her sisters. However, I can safely say I have 
not been infidelle [sic] to Kate — whenever I thought of 
her, which I do very often, though not so constantly as 
usual ; this entirely between you and me. ... I love 
nothing in comparison with you, my dearest mother, 
after all." 

It is a precarious and intermittent supremacy at 
most that mothers enjoy, but they must make the 
best of it. The Duchess had, in fact, only exchanged 
one rival for another ; but Lady Catherine Meade had 
passed for ever out of her young lover's life, and her 
place in it knew her no more. 



CHAPTER V 

1786— 1788 

Lord Edward and His Mother — ^Increasing Interest in 
Politics— The Duke of Rutland Viceroy— Lord Edward's 
Position in Parliament and Outside It — ^Visit to Spain — 
General O'Hara. 

IF Lord Edward was once more in love, he said less 
about it than when Lady Catherine had been the 
heroine of his boyish romance. It does not appear 
that, even to his mother, his constant confidant, he 
mentioned, during the next few months, the passion 
which had taken hold of him. His silence may 
possibly have been due to the fact that this second 
affair was a more serious matter than the first ; or, 
again, he may still have been young enough to be 
shamefaced over his own inconstancy. At any rate, 
his reticence marks a new stage in his development 

One fancies, too, that other changes are perceptible ; 
that his laughter is a trifle less frequent and whole- 
hearted ; that he has become a little older, a little 
wiser, than when " pretty dear Kate " was his constant 
theme. Perhaps something of the first freshness, so 
gay and so young as to be almost childish, is gone. 
And if his passionate love for his mother had lost 

64 



Xtft ot XorD SMMtD fiti^cem 65 

nothing of its fervour — ^the devoted affection which, 
in its clinging tenderness and open expression, was 
more like that of a daughter than a son — yet even 
upon this it would seem that a change had passed ; 
that it had become graver and deeper than before — an 
affection which was shadowed by that foreboding 
;q>prehensiveness of possible loss which belongs to 
the first realisation of the transitoriness of all things 
human. 

There had, however, been nothing to mar the glad- 
ness of their meeting after the months which, to one 
at least of the two, had seemed so long. The Duchess 
had passed through England on her way abroad in 
the autumn of the year which had witnessed the death 
of her boy*s first fancy ; and mother and son had met 
once more at her brother's house, where Lord Edward 
had eagerly awaited her. 

** Do not stay too long at Oxford," he wrote when 
she was already on her way ; ** for if you do, I shall 
die with impatience before you arrive. I can hardly 
write, I am so happy." 

It was some months before the two made up their 
minds to separate again. The Scotch scheme, not- 
withstanding all it had had to recommend it, had 
evidently died at birth, for there is no further mention 
of any such plan ; and on the Duchess's departure 
Lord Edward accompanied her abroad, remaining with 
her at Nice until recalled to Ireland by the opening 
of Parliament. 

Dublin seems to have had no more attraction for 

5 



66 xite ot Xord B^ward fitsOerald 

him, on his return thither, than formerly ; and, especially 
in the absence of his mother, had little to recommend 
it. He missed her at every turn, and told her so in 
language which must have been dear to the Duchess's 
heart. To visit her own home at Frescati and to 
find her absent, to go to bed in the familiar house 
without wishing her good-night, to come down in the 
morning and not to see her, to look at her flowers 
without having her to lean upon him — ^all this was 
" very bad indeed." " You are," he tells her in 
another letter, with one of those touches of melancholy 
that are new — " you are, after all, what I love best in 
the world. I always return to you, and find it is the 
only love I do not deceive myself in. . . . In thinking 
over with myself what misfortunes I could bear, I 
found there was one I could not ; — but God bless you ! " 

There is, alas ! no making terms with Fate ; and 
whatever has to be borne can be borne. But the 
misfortune which Lord Edward felt would have been 
intolerable was spared him. His mother outlived him, 
to mourn his loss. 

Another significant change is apparent about this 
time. His interest, his personal concern, so to speak, 
in politics was evidently deepening to a marked degree. 
Yet here, too, the aspect of affairs was discouraging. 

In the country at large the Whiteboy disturbances 
had spread to an alarming extent, carrying with them 
every species of crime and outrage ; enlisting on the 
side of Government some of those who had hitherto 
remained either in opposition or had preserved a 



Xlte of Xor& EdwarJ) jfit3<Bctal6 



67 



neutral attitude, and uniting together all parties in the 
effort to check the growing disaffection. 

From this cause and from others the political 
situation, in contrast to the agrarian, was one of 
exceptional tranquillity. The Viceroyalty of the young 
Duke of Rutland — not ten years older than Lord 
Edward himself — had been popular. Although already 
impoverished by losses at play, his hospitalities were 
conducted on a scale of magnificence surpassing in 
brilliancy even that of the court he represented^ and 
after a gayer fashion than was the case at Carlton 
House, of the ** decorous indecorum " of which, to 
gether with the "duU regularity of its Irregularities," 
the Due de Chartres, on his first visit to England, is 
reported to have complained. The young Duke was 
honourable and generous, his wife beautiful^ — they 
were, indeed, said to be the handsomest couple in 
Ireland — and between them they had worked a revo- 
lution in Irish society, not altogether for the better, 
and which, with the sudden relaxation of manners that 
accompanied it, was for from pleasing to the stricter 
censors of morality, ** accustomed," says a contemporary 
historian, ** to the almost undeviating decorum of the 
Irish females/' 

But whatever might be the effect, upon a society 
hitherto distinguished for its purity, of the absence 
of dignity and restraint which marked the Viceregal 
entertainments, the spirit of good fellowship engendered 
by conviviality is not without its use in smoothing 
away political rancour and bitterness ; and the Duke's 



68 xtfe of Xor^ £&war^ rit3®e»l& 

splendid hospitalities had drawn within the circle of 
his influence many who might otherwise have stood 
apart from it. The success of the system was apparent 
in Parliament. ^^ It would not have been supposed 
possible, even three years ago," wrote the Chief 
Secretary, Orde, *^to have attained almost unanimity 
in the House of Commons to pass a Bill of Coercion 
upon the groundwork of the English Riot Act" 

What Lord Edward could do to lessen the unanimity 
upon which the Chief Secretary's congratulations were 
based had been done ; and throughout the session he 
steadily adhered to the small minority which opposed 
the Bill, together with other like measures. His tone, 
however, with r^;ard to the political oudook was in 
private one of discouragement, though not of tl)at dis- 
couragement which loses heart to continue the fight 

" When one has any great object to carry," he wrote, 
" one must expect disappointments, and not be diverted 
from one's object by them, or even appear to mind 
them. I therefore say to everybody that I think we 
are going on well. The truth is," he adds, however, 
candidly, "the people one has to do with are a bad 
set. I mean the whole, for really I believe those we 
act with are the best." 

It was in the course of this year that he made a 
speech, upon a motion of Grattan's dealing with the 
question of tithes, which helps to define both the 
extent of his present sympathy with the popular 
agitation and perhaps its limitations. His attitude 
w stiU that of a man not inclined to yield to violence 



Xife of Xorb £^war^ f itsOetald 69 

the concessions demanded by justice. Tithes, he said, 
having been a grievance for thirty years, it became 
the wisdom of the house to enquire into them. While 
the people were quiet, no enquiry was made ; while 
they were outrageous, no enquiry perhaps ought to 
be made ; but certainly it was not beneath the dignity 
of the House to say that an enquiry should be made 
when the people returned to peace and quietness again. 
He had to be taught by the lessons of experience 
that it was by the methods he then deprecated, and 
by them alone, that justice could be obtained. 

His position was probably at this time a lonely one. 
He was drifting away by insensible degrees, if not 
in affection yet in opinions and sympathies, from 
those who had heretofore been his natural associates ; 
while he had not, so far, filled their vacant place. What 
were his personal relations with the recognised 
Parliamentary leaders on the popular side, with Flood 
and Grattan and their friends, or whether he had any 
personal relations with them at all beyond those 
necessarily existing between members of the same 
party, we have no means of ascertaining ; and it is 
impossible to avoid contrasting his life at this period, 
as it is known to us, with that of the group of men 
with whom he was presendy to cast in his lot — 
men closely allied with each other in aims and in- 
terests, and in habits of daily intercourse and constant 
interchange of thought. 

With regard to his own family, it is true that 
nothing is more remarkable than the absence of any 



70 Xite ot Xord BDwarD fitsOetalt) 

trace of alienation on their part in consequence of 
his identification with a movement with which the 
sympathy of most of them must have been small. But 
even affection sometimes leaves a man lonely ; and 
in point of opinion their paths were rapidly diverging. 
Thus the Duke of Leinster, essentially a moderate 
man, though commonly taking the popular side in 
Parliament and remaining true to the national cause 
at the time of the Union, forfeited much of his 
influence and popularity about this time by a dis- 
position to content himself with the concessions 
made by the English Government, and to adhere to 
a waiting policy with regard to remaining grievances. 
He can, therefore, have had no sympathy with the 
extreme party to which Lord Edward was to be allied ; 
while the favourite brother of the latter, Henry — of 
whom he once said, "Harry is perfect," and whose 
letter to Lord Camden, written under the influence 
of uncontrollable excitement after Lord Edward's death, 
speaks of the uncommon affection which had subsisted 
between the two from childhood — was presently to 
marry an heiress, and, residing in his villa on the 
Thames, to play most often the part of an absentee. 
The husband of his aunt. Lady Louisa ConoUy, 
whose singular affection for her nephew has already 
been noticed, had lately, temporarily at least, deserted 
the national side and given his support to Government, 
behaving, in Lord Edward's eyes, shabbily in the 
matter ; while Lady Louisa herself would seem to 
have been a weak though affectionate woman ; and, 



Xite ot Xort) BDward f itsOeralD 71 

judging from her reference, when her nephew lay 
dying in prison, to " dear Lord Castlereagh's distress," 
was too easily swayed by those with whom she was 
brought into^contact to have much fellow-feeling at the 
service of such as were acting in opposition to the social 
and class traditions which belonged to her position. 

All things considered, the end of the session must 
have been welcome to Lord Edward. Always ready 
for change, he went abroad so soon as he was released 
from his Parliamentary duties, and was probably still 
absent from Ireland when, in the autumn of 1787, to 
quote Sir Jonah Harrington, ** the Duke of Rutland's 
incessant conviviality deprived the British peerage of 
an honourable, generous, and high-minded nobleman, 
and Ireland of a Viceroy whose Government did nothing, 
and whose court did worse than nothing, for the Irish 
people." 

Lord Edward, however, had left politics behind 
for the present, and had set himself— no difficult task — 
to enjoy his holiday. His plans included a visit to 
Gibraltar and a journey through Spain and Portugal. 
It was a curious coincidence that at the first place he 
fell in with the man, Charles Henry Sirr, from whom 
he was to receive, eleven years later, the wound the 
consequences of which proved fatal, and who has left 
upon record an opponent's testimony to the high 
character for honour borne by Lord Edward. 

The stay of the latter at Gibraltar was a pleasant 
one. His old chief, General O'Hara, was attached 
to the staff at the Rock, finding it perhaps convenient 



— if one is to judge of his circumstances by a state- 
ment of Lord Cornwallis's to the efiect that "poor 
0*Hara is once more driven abroad by his relentless 
creditors " — to remain out of England ; and the 
General and his former subordinate were delighted 
to renew their acquaintance. 

" He is pleasanter than ever," Lord Edward wrote, 
to his mother ; " and enters into all one's ideas, fimciful 
as well as comical We divert ourselves amazingly 
with all the people here ; but diis is when he is not 
*all over General,' as he calls it. ... I fed grown 
quite a soldier again since I came to this place, and 
should like to be in a regiment here very much." 
And then he confesses to an attack of home-sickness. 
"I wrote you the other day a letter which I was 
ashamed to send ; I had got up particularly fond of 
you, and had determined to give up all improvement 
whatever, and set out to you by the shortest road 
without stopping. ... I really cannot stay much 
longer without seeing you. . . . Often when I see a 
ship sailing I think how glad I should be if I were 
aboard, and on my passage to you ! " 

He had got her the seeds of a plant which would 
grow at Frescati ; and had to hurry off, to dine with 
a lady who had been up to the elbows in custards to 
receive the General. 

Notwithstanding the fact that he had left his heart 
in England, Lord Edward seems to have contrived to 
extract considerable enjoyment out of his wanderings 
in Spain, with a muleteer and black Tony for com- 



Xife of Xot5 £dwat5 f it5®etal5 73 

panions. He was popular wherever he went ; and 
so ready to make friends with those with whom he 
was brought into contact, that, as he told his mother, 
there was hardly a place through which he passed in 
which he did not leave an acquaintance with whom he 
felt quite sorry to part. In spite, however, of his 
delight in the novelty of all he saw, by the time that 
he arrived at Madrid impatience to find himself once 
more at home was mastering him. 

** I wanted to set off to you by post," he wrote to 
the Duchess, only three hours after his arrival, "and 
should have been with you, in that case, in seven days. 
It was to cost me forty pounds ; but Tony remonstrated, 
and insisted that it was very foolish, when I might 
go for five guineas, and, — in short, he prevailed." 

His return to England was not attended, so far as 
the impending love affair was concerned, with good 
fortune. The Duke of Richmond indeed, uncle to both 
cousins, showed himself anxious to further his nephew's 
wishes, but his brother was so much opposed to the 
match that he ended by forbidding the lover his house. 

Lord Edward under these circumstances displayed 
more wisdom than might have been anticipated. Find- 
ing himself unable, whilst remaining at home, to get the 
better of his disappointment, and no doubt unsettled 
and restless, he decided, though not relinquishing the 
hope of ultimate success, to absent himself from England 
for a time by joining his regiment, now stationed at 
New Brunswick. In May, 1788, therefore, he sailed 
for America. 



CHAPTER VI 

1788— 1789 

Lord Edward in New Brunswick — Second Love Affair— Letters 
to his Mother — Irish Affairs—The Duke of Leinster — 
Lord Edward declines to seek Promotion — Adventurous 
Expedition — Native Tribes — Disappointment — Return 
Home. 

LORD EDWARD was more than eighteen months 
on the other side of the Atlantic. It was his 
last holiday before he set his hand in earnest to the 
plough and threw himself, for life and for death, into 
the cause to which his few remaining years were to be 
dedicated. 

Unknown to the public as he still was, except as a 
younger brother of the Duke of Leinster and an 
obscure member of the Irish Parliament, his own 
letters form almost the sole source of information 
we possess as to this period of his life. There are, 
fortunately, a greater number of them available for 
this purpose than at most other stages of his career, 
and they give a graphic picture of the manner after 
which his life was passed in New Brunswick. 

If it was a holiday shadowed by present disappoint- 
ment, it was not unlightened by hope ; and there is 

74 



Xife of Xot5 £dwat5 f it5®etal5 75 

apparent, besides, throughout the time of his absence 
from home, a manly and spirited determination to keep 
the wolves of regret at bay, and to set himself courage- 
ously to face the future and whatever it might have 
in store for him. 

It may well have been that his second attachment 
was of a deeper nature than his boyish devotion to 
Lady Catherine Meade ; but it is no less clear that 
he steadily refused to be wholly absorbed by it, and 
that he had ceased, at least in his normal condition, to 
look upon love-making as the sole object of a man's 
life. Even in his confidences to his mother a new 
tone is perceptible ; and the dawn is apparent of that 
obstinate determination not to be beaten which is so 
essential an element in the attitude with which the 
leader of a forlorn hope should meet the chances of 
life. 

" I love Georgina more than ever," he tells the 
Duchess, at a date when his absence had already lasted 
some months ; " and if she likes me, can never 
change." He is still young enough to believe in im- 
mutability, but old enough by this time to make it 
provisional : "... I shall never, I think, be happy 
without her ; neither do I say that I shall be absolutely 
unhappy." And again : " As long as there is the 
smallest hope of my being happy with Georgina, it 
is not possible to be happy with any one else. Dearest 
mother, after yourself, I think she is the most perfect 
creature on earth." 

It is not the language of a man who felt that life 



76 Xife of Xotb E5watb f it5<^tal5 

and death hung in the balances. It was well, as the 
event proved, that it was not so. 

He had not been without other causes of disturbance 
besides the uncertainty attending his love-affairs. To 
the grief he always felt at being parted from his 
mother there had been added in this instance the 
additional pain resulting fit)m the consciousness that 
she had felt disapproval, or even in some degree 
displeasure, at his flight from England, decided upon 
i;nthout her sanction and unknown to her. It was 
only in the month of August diat she withdrew her 
disapprobation of the step. 

His letters in the meantime had, however, been 
as full and confidential as ever. ** Depend upon it, 
dearest mother," he assures the Duchess in the first, 
written only three days after his arrival at Halifax, 
" I will not miss an opportunity of writing to you." 

The town was filled with Irish ; the brogue was 
to be heard to perfection ; and he was lodged at the 
house of a countryman, Mr. Cornelius O'Brien, who 
himself claimed relationship with the FitzGeralds. 

*' I accept the relationship," added Lord Edward 
with a touch of humour, **and his horsCy for thirty 
miles up the country." 

The regiment was stationed at St. Johns, New 
Brunswick ; and by the middle of July, after a long 
and fatiguing journey, he had joined it. As usual, 
his interest in the new forms of life with which he 
had become acquainted on the way was keen ; and 
he describes in especial a day during which he had 



life of Xot^ S^wat^ f its&etald 77 

been obliged to delay his journey, and which had been 
passed in the cabin of a couple of aged settlers, with 
whose history he had evidently, after his custom, 
become fully conversant before quitting their abode. 

" It was," he says, ** I think, as odd and as pleasant 
a day (in its way) as ever I passed. . . . Conceive, 
dearest mother, arriving about twelve o'clock in a 
hot day at a little cabin upon the side of a rapid 
river, the banks all covered with woods, not a house 
in sight, and there finding a little, old, clean, tidy 
woman spinning, with an old man of the same appear- 
ance weeding salad. The old pair, on our arrival, 
got as active as if only five-and-twenty, the gentleman 
getting wood and water, the lady frying bacon and 
eggs, both talking a great deal, telling their story: 
how they had been there thirty years, and how their 
children were settled, and when cither's back was 
turned remarking how old the other had grown ; 
and at the same time all kindness, cheerfulness, and 
love to each other." Then he goes on to describe 
what followed : the spirits of the old couple subsiding 
as night drew on ; the evening passed in the " wild 
quietness " of the place ; himself, Tony, and the guide, 
together with their hosts, sitting all on one log at 
the cabin door. It is clear that the charm of the 
woods had cast its spell upon the guest. '* My dearest 
mother, if it was not for you, I believe I never 
should go home — at least, 1 thought so at that 
moment." 

That, making his observations upon the conditions 



73 Xife of Xot5 £dwat5 f itsOetalb 

of life prevailing in a comparatively new country, he 
should have singled out for special commendation 
the absence of class distinctions, is worth noting as 
an indication, thus early, of the temper of mind which 
readily led to his future identification with the 
principles of the revolution. 

**The equality of everybody and of their manner 
of life," he says, ** I like very much. There are no 
gentlemen. Everybody is on a footing, provided he 
works and wants nothing. Every man is exactly 
what he can make himself, or has made himself by 
industry. ... I own," reverting to more personal 
matters, "I often think how happy I could be with 
Georgina in some of the spots I see ; and envied every 
young former I met, whom I saw sitting down with 
a young wife, whom he was going to work to 
maintain." 

He kept his promise and proved a good corre- 
spondent, Tony, in whose charge the Duchess had 
apparently placed the matter, being always at hand 
to remind his master of his duty in that respect. 
"There has not passed a day yet," Lord Edward 
writes, " without his telling me I had best write now, 
or I should go out and forget it." Indeed, the 
relations between master and servant would seem to 
have been rather those of friend with friend than 
the ordinary recognition of loyal service well rendered. 
"His black face," said Lord Edward again, *'is the 
only thing that I yet feel attached to." "I have 
nothing more to say," he writes on another occasion, 



Xife of Xot5 £dwat5 f it5®etal5 79 

"except that the faithful Tony enquires after you 
all, and seems as pleased when I get a letter as if it 
were to him ; he always puts me in mind to write. 
I have found he has one fault : he is avaricious ; he 
b^ns already to count the money both he and I are 
to save." And once more, when he has manifesdy 
been suflfering from a bad attack of home-sickness : 
" The faithful Tony talks of you a great deal ; he 
and I have long conversations about you all every 
morning." 

Whether or not Tony's representations were neces- 
sary to ensure regularity of correspondence, so soon 
as Lord Edward had the pen in his hand it always 
proved that of a ready writer. No one was ever more 
keen in his enjoyment of novelty, nor more eager 
to share his interests with those from whom he was 
absent. 

With regard to the panegyrics, now of the customs 
of the European setders with whom he was brought 
into contact, now of the manner of life of the original 
inhabitants, which are to be found scattered through 
his letters, it may likely enough be true, as a critic 
has asserted, that the attraction he professed towards 
the simpler modes of existence was, in part at least, 
the result of a fashion introduced by Rousseau. But 
to be infected by a fashion is not necessarily to be 
guilty of affectation, nor is originality, fortunately, an 
essential condition of sincerity. It must also be borne 
in mind that there were, in his case, personal arguments 
which no doubt predisposed him to regard with favour, 



8o %ttc Of XorO £^war& fits9aaXb 

for the moment at least, those primitive habits which 
would have minimised the importance of money. Had 
such customs prevailed in England, as he observes 
on one occasion, no difficulty would have been raised 
as to his marriage ; no ridiculous obstacles would 
have been interposed in the way of real happiness ; 
there would be no interest, no ambition, no ^MeviUsh 
politics*' either! "The dear Ciss and Mimi" — his 
little half-sisters — " would be carrying wood and 
fetching water, while Ladies Lucy and Sophia were 
cooking or drying fish. As for you, dear mother, 
you would be smoking your pipe. 

By the month of September he had received the 
Duchess's assurance that she withdrew her disappro- 
bation of the step he had taken in leaving England. 

"Dearest, dearest mother," he writes, in the first 
gladness of finding the unusual cloud between them 
dispeUed, " I have just got your letter from sweet 
Frescati. How affectionate and reasonable ! But I 
was sure you would be so when you came to reflect. 
You cannot think how happy you have made me ! 
Being absent from you was unhappiness enough, 
without the addition of your thinking it unnecessary, 
and being a little angry. I own it went to my heart 
to feel I was the cause of so much misery to you, 
while at the very time, too, you thought the step I 
took unnecessary." After which he recapitulates his 
reasons, and proves over again how right his course of 
action had been. It will do him good in his profession, 
and will prevent him from being wholly taken up with 



Xfte of lord Bdwatb fft5(?eraI5 si 

his unfortunate love afiair. But nevertheless "being 
absent from you, my dear mother, is very terrible at 
times." 

The indulgence of visionary speculations as to the 
superior felicities of savage existence did not prevent 
him from throwing himself with all his old ardour 
into the details of a soldier's life ; and the sternness 
of his views concerning military duty is a curious and 
significant trait in a character so gentle and in many 
respects so careless. He had no desire to be a toy 
soldier. His presence with his regiment, he told his 
mother, was his duty according to those strict rules he 
required from others, and was only entering into the 
true spirit of a soldier, " without which spirit a military 
life is, and must be, the devil." Besides, suddenly 
descending from the somewhat high position he had 
taken up, and advancing another and a different argu- 
ment by which to reconcile the Duchess to his absence, 
** I am always disagreeable when I am in love, and perhaps 
you would all have grown to think me disagreeable." 

The opinion of William Cobbett, at that time 
sergeant-major of the 54th, in which he was serving, 
as to the character borne by Lord Edward in his own 
regiment is worth quoting. He was, Cobbett told Pitt, 
in answer to some questions addressed to him by the 
minister, " a most humane and excellent man, and the 
only really honest officer he had ever known " — a 
testimony which, though favourable to the subject of 
it, one may hope was unduly severe upon the rest 
of the service. 

6 



T!iere*«35 vcc imj c h ei reisoo, besides those appealing 
lo :ae sukner md die lover, miach made Lord Edward 
-TscKs :d be jbstiif tmm Ireland at the present 
•uncrure. •*- Devilish po&tks*' were not going well 
nere. Hie councy indeed remained quiet, but in 
r\iiSin jmr in PvSamenc certain changes had taken 
Tiahc:: -vnxvis ipouiki icrre rendere d his portion at home 
1 ^t&uit jne. 

Fie I?uic: cf Ruchmi had been succeeded in the 
V' c g> j » JA t:^ bv Ljri fh i ik'ng ham, whose possession 
jf 1 Ciacixc wile wcuic, it had been hoped, serve to 
TTvpcacc Tuciic ^^cinicn. But neither this circum- 
:scuTcr. tcr rie c-i:nc:Ii;cerv cKasarcs to which resort 
roc >Kn sn&OEu ix^i ATixkd to counterbalance the 
rcrsciToI -.xnrcruisirty cr the new Lord Lieutenant a 
sron >rr "uu^or :eaxrer irtc unprepossessing manners, 
rrvi c-"^-: S»:o» w-ft a aknt for taking offence. 
Hi lis.* c^rrri^ci wtn r^: "*'expess:Te genius" in the 
use .^r rv.?i:c tcr^fv c^r which Gnttin accused him 
:*«; ri~c<rrv. r."* :x:!^?cr£ rar^rnccy — a filling peculiarly 
u^-V-rj.-M^: —, 1 nx-r chcscr, ro repbce a predecessor 
i >r.-*^u >."-^*i r. i!?rceal bv his reckless generosity. 
The c^j.: lr.5h fi-niliv:!? rKac;^: themselves gradually 
:-. cprosiricT:, rr.onr rcrh^rs ro the Mccroy personally 
thin to h:> JLxir:: r..>tn::or. ; JL~d on the occasion of his 
refusil to rorsnri in iddre^s trom the Irish Parliament 
desiring the IV.r.c;;: of Wilcs to exercise the Royal 
authority during the iliness of the King, a vote of 
censure was passed upon him by both houses. 

The opinion entertained with r^ard to these pro- 



Xife of Xot5 £dwat5 f it5(Betal5 83 

ceedings by acute observers on the other side of St. 
George's Channel is expressed by Horace Walpole, 
who observed in a letter to Lady Ossory written in 
February, 1789, that he should not be surprised, were 
Lord Buckingham to be supported in the imperative 
mood so judiciously adopted at the commencement of 
the American troubles, if the Irish were to weigh 
anchor and sail into the Atlantic Ocean of Independence 
after the colonies ; so that the son, like the father — 
George Grenville — ^would have the honour of losing 
another sovereignty. ** If all this should happen," 
he adds, "pray advertize me in time, madam, that I 
may always admire the Marquis of Buckingham." 

There was yet another and a more personal reason, 
besides die unsatisfactory condition of public aflfairs, 
which led Lord Edward to congratulate himself that 
he was, for the moment, debarred from taking an 
active part in Parliamentary proceedings. 

The FitzGerald family, united as they were in 
affection, were apt to take difi^erent sides in politics. 
Lady Sarah Napier, giving an account of her nephews 
some months later, included three of the brotherhood 
— Lord Edward himself, his eldest brother the Duke, 
and Henry FitzGerald — in the ranks of the Opposition, 
Lord Charles and Lord Robert being, on the contrary, 
counted amongst Pitt's supporters. At the time her 
description was written she was doubtless justified in 
declaring her eldest nephew to be " stout," and he had 
even taken so decided a part in opposition to the 
Viceroy as to become one of the Commissioners 



84 %Atc Of lord £bwat5 f it5®eral& 

deputed to deliver to the Prince the address which 
Lord Buckingham had refused to transmit. But at 
the beginning of the latter's tenure of office the Duke 
of Leinster had not refused his support to the new 
Lord Lieutenant, and had even consented to accept 
at his hands the post of Master of the RoUs.^ To 
the temporary apostasy from the traditional principles 
of the FitzGeralds of which his brother had been 
guilty in quitting the ranks of the Opposition Lord 
Edward alluded in no measured terms. 

** After the part dear Leinster has acted/* he says 
in October 1788, framing his censure characteristically 
enough, ** I should have been ashamed to show my 
face in Ireland. ... I certainly this winter would not 
have supported him, though I would not oppose him : 
he would have been angry, and there would have 
been a coolness which would have vexed me very 
much. I have had many quiet, serious hours here 
to think about what he has done, and I cannot 
reconcile myself to it by any argument. His conduct 
both to the public and to individuals is not what 
it lought to have been. In short, my dear mother, 
it hurts me very much, though I do all I can to get 
the better of it. I know it is weakness and folly ; 
but then the action is done — the shame is incurred." 

Anxious to avoid so much as the appearance of 



* The Duke's predecessor in this office had been that Rigby of whom 
the story is told that, consulted in jest by the Heir-Apparent as to his 
choice of a wife, he had made answer that he was not yet drunk 
enough to give advice to a Prince of Wales about marrying. 



life ft %otb £5wat5 f it5®ecaI^ 85 

soUdtuig a favour from his brother's new friends on 
his own account, he adds an injunction that no steps 
should ^be taken by Mr. Ogilvie with regard to his 
promotion. He was determined to receive nothing 
till he was out of Parliament. He was content with 
his present position, and had no ambition as to rank. 
" The feeling of shame is what I never could bear. . . . 
And pray do you tell Leinster from me," he reiterates, 
**that I do not wish to purchase at present, or that 
he should do anything about a lieut-colonelcy." And 
they are to remember how obstinate he is when once 
he has made up his mind. 

To Mr. Ogilvie himself he wrote in the same spirit : 
"Leinster's conduct is too foolish and shabby — I 
hate thinking of it. I am determined, however, it 
shall not vex me ; but that I may be totally clear, I 
must beg you will not mention anything about me to 
him. . . . Tony says, if Lord Robert" — who had 
thrown in his lot with the Government — "goes on in 
the way he is doing, he will soon be a major. I 
believe Henry and I are the only two honest ones in 
the family." 

With regard to any advantage to accrue to himself 
from his brother's change of front, his obstinacy 
remained unabated. But he was induced by the 
remonstrances of the Duke of Richmond to reconsider 
his determination to withdraw his support from his 
brother in Parliament. The letter in which he 
declared himself convinced of his duty in this respect 
to the man to whom he owed his seat is too curious 



86 xtfe of Xotb £dwat5 f itsOetalb 

an example of the Parliamentary morality of the day 
to be omitted here. 

" I have got a letter," he tells his mother, " from 
Uncle Richmond, which was as kind as possible ; 
everything he does only makes one love him the more. 
He says in his letter that as Leinster is come over 
completely to the Government, he can see no reason 
why I should not now act with my brother and 
uncle. In my answer I have agreed with him, and 
said that I certainly shall ; because, upon consideration, 
though I think Leinster wrong, and told him so 
beforehand, yet as he has taken that part, it would be 
wrong not to support him — ^we being his members, 
and brought in by him with an idea that he might 
depend upon our always acting with him." ^ 

That a man of Lord Edward's stamp, and holding 
his pronounced views, should have been able to per- 
suade himself that he was morally bound to hold his 
vote at the service of the man by whom he had been 
returned to Parliament, however mistaken he might 
consider him, is a strange illustration of the prevailing 
code of political honour. But it likewise affords a 
striking proof that he was in no way eager to adopt a 
line of his own or to vindicate his independence ; and 
his conduct on this occasion lends additional weight 

* There is abundant evidence that a member of Parliament who sat 
as nominee of the owner of a borough was generally considered bound 
in honour to support his patron's policy or retire. During the Union 
debates upwards of sixty such members had to retire and give place 
to those who would vote for the Union. 



Xife of Xotb £^wat^ f {t5(BetaIb 87 

to the reasons which afterwards led to so different 
a course of action on his part. 

To reap any personal advantage from his submission 
was a wholly different matter ; and he reiterated his 
determination to accept nothing from the Duke's 
new friends : " I am determined not to take any- 
thing, lieut.-colonelcy or anything else. I wish my 
actions not to be biassed by any such motive ; but 
that I may feel I am only acting in this manner 
because I think it right. ... I have written to Uncle 
Richmond to this same purpose, telling how I meant 
to act, and how I felt, and therefore trust he will 
not persist in trying to get me a lieut.-colonelcy. I 
am content as I am — I am not ambitious to get on. 
1 like the service for its own sake ; whether major, 
lieut.-colonel, or general, it is the same to me. 
High rank in it I do not aspire to ; if I am found fit 
for command, I shall get it ; if I am not, God knows 
I am better without it. The sole ambition I have is 
to be deserving. To deserve a reward is to me far 
pleasanter than to obtain it. I am afraid you will all 
say I am foolish about this ; but as it is a folly that 
hurts nobody, it may have its fling. I will not, 
however, trouble you any more about all this hanged 
stuff, for I am tired of thinking of it." 

At present he was at a safe distance from the scene 
of action, nor was there any immediate prospect of 
his return to Ireland. Winter had set in — the winter 
of 1788-9 — and his attention was, so far as his military 
duties admitted of it, chiefly devoted to skating. There 



were hunting parties too, and marches over the snow, 
involving nights spent camping out in the woods, 
wrapped in a blanket, the moon shining through 
the branches, the snow banked up around, and a 
fire burning in the centre of the little encampment — 2l 
mode of life so much to Lord Edward's taste that 
he doubted whether he would ever again be able 
to reconcile himself to living within four walls. 

In England, meanwhile, the question of his pro- 
motion had come once more under consideration. The 
aspect of public afi^rs had undergone a change both 
there and in Ireland. His brother's brief alliance 
with the Government, although news of it had not 
yet reached him, was already dissolved, and the Duke 
had been dismissed from his office. 

With the passing of the Regency Bill and the 
accession to power of the Prince of Wales it was 
confidendy expected that his friends, the Whigs, 
would displace the present Government ; and a letter 
of Fox's, written at this juncture to his cousin Henry 
FitzGerald, gives proof of his intention to make all 
use of the means which would be placed at his 
disposal to forward, in accordance with the frank and 
open fashion of the day, the interests of his family. 

After expressing the satisfaction he would feel in 
acting with the Duke of Leinster, now returned to 
the Whig fold, he proceeded to assure Lord Henry 
of his good offices with regard to those members of 
the FitzGerald family who had remained within it. 

*' With respect to you and Edward," he wrote. 



%iU ot Xot^ je^warb f itsOeralb 89 

**I must be ungrateful indeed if I did not consider 
the opportunity of showing my friendship to you 
two as one of the pleasantest circumstances attending 
power. One of the first acts of the Regency will 
be to make Edward Lieut.-Colonel of the Royal 
Irish ; and if a scheme which is in agitation takes 
place, I think I shall have an opportunity of getting 
for you, too, a lift in your profession." 

As he anticipated for himself a return to the 
Foreign Office, he wished, with a view to future 
arrangements, to learn the views of Lord Edward and 
his brother with regard to employment abroad. As 
to Lord Robert, whose rapid advancement, it will be 
remembered, had been prophesied by Tony, in con- 
sequence of his adherence to the Tory Government, 
he would have to wait a little, but might be assured 
that his prospects should not suffer owing to his 
cousin's accession to office. 

The King's unexpected recovery put an end for 
the time to the realisation of Fox's benevolent schemes, 
with which indeed Lord Edward can only have become 
acquainted at a later date. 

At the present moment he was occupied with other 
matters than even military advancement. 

In February — his cousin's letter bore the date of 
the 1st of that month — he wrote to his stepfather to 
announce a projected journey to Quebec, to be under- 
taken in the company of a brother-officer, Tony, and 
two woodsmen. 

** It will appear strange to you, or any people in 



90 Xife of Xotb JEbvoax^ f itsOetald 

England," he wrote, ** to think of starting in February, 
with four feet of snow on the ground, to march through 
a desert wood of one hundred and seventy-five miles ; 
but it is nothing. ... It will be a charming journey, 
I think, and quite new." 

It was, in fact, an adventurous undertaking, 
described by an inhabitant of Quebec as both arduous 
and dangerous ; the route, lying, as it did, entirely 
through uninhabited woods, morasses, and across 
mountains, having never yet been attempted by the 
Indians themselves. To Lord Edward an enterprise 
recommended by its novelty, and possibly by the 
risk attaching to it, was naturally alluring ; and his 
love troubles and political regrets were alike thrown 
into the background by the prospect Writing in 
excellent spirits, he sends the comforting message to 
his sisters that he is as great a fool as ever, and fears 
that his folly will stick to him all the days of his life — 
he did not guess how few they were to be — and to 
his mother his love and the assurance that " U petit 
sauvage'' will think of her often in the woods. " She 
has a rope round my heart that gives hard tugs at it, 
and it is all I can do not to give way." 

The journey was accomplished successfully, thirty 
days being taken to cover a distance of a hundred and 
seventy miles. Most of the way lay through woods 
up to that time considered impassable ; it was only 
when the River St. Lawrence had been crossed that the 
exploring party fell in with some Indians, in whose 
company the remainder of the journey was made. 



Xife of Xorb £&wat^ f itsOetalb 91 

** They were very kind to us," wrote Lord Edward, 
who, with his singular faculty of making friends with 
all sorts and conditions of men, had evidently entered 
upon terms of good fellowship with them at once, " and 
said we were * all one brother ' — all * one Indian.' . . . 
You would have laughed to have seen me carrying 
an old squaw*s pack, which was so heavy I could hardly 
waddle under it. However, I was well paid whenever 
we stopped, for she always gave me the best bits, and 
most soup, and took as much care of me as if I had 
been her own son ; in short, I was quite V enfant chert. 
We were quite sorry to part : the old lady and gentle- 
man both kissed me very heartily." 

There had been other pleasures on the journey 
besides the society of his Indian friends : the luxury 
of a good spruce bed before the fire after a long day's 
march, or a moose chase on a clear moonlight night — 
to be thoroughly enjoyed, however, only so long as it 
was unsuccessful. " At first it was charming, but as 
soon as we had him in our power it was melancholy. 
However, it was soon over, and it was no pain to him. 
If it were not for this last part, it would be a delightful 
amusement " ; and, after all — " we are beasts, dearest 
mother, I am sorry to say it" — in the enjoyment of 
eating the victim, regret was forgotten. 

All had, in fact, gone well, and he had nothing left 
to wish for, except — the old refrain is repeated in his 
letter to his mother — " how I long to feel all your 
arms about my neck ! " 

He had expected and intended to be at home some 



9> TUXt Of %otb £^w«t^ fttsoerald 

months earlier than was actually the case, for the 
temptation of making a further exploration by 
returning to England vid the Mississippi and New 
Orleans proved too strong to be resisted ; and in 
company with an Indian chief who had himself paid 
a vi^t to England, he carried out the plan, passing 
through native villages, canoeing down rivu^ and 
dancing with Indian ladies, whose manners he found 
particularly to his taste. At Detroit, it is true, his 
spirits were a little shadowed by the necessity of 
parting with a fellow-traveller — ^he does not mention 
of which sex ; but, remembering that les plus courtes 
folies sont les meilleures^ he found consolation at the 
same place in his adoption into the Bear Tribe of native 
Indians, whose chief, after a fashion that has fbimd 
a parallel in later days, formally inducting his friend 
Lord Edward FitzGerald into the tribe as one of its 
chiefs, bestowed upon him the name of Eghnidal, ** for 
which I hope he will remember me as long as he lives." 

The journey was not one to be accomplished 
quickly. It was only in December that the traveller 
reached New Orleans, where a shock awaited him. 

Cut off from communication with England during 
his wanderings, he had received no news from home 
for months ; and when at last letters reached him, 
they conveyed the intelligence of an event which 
involved the final downfall of the hopes which had 
buoyed him up throughout his voluntary exile. The 
girl upon whom his heart had been set had married 
another man. 



Xtte ct %ot^ B^wttrD f tt30eral& 93 

Writing in May of this year, his aunt Lady Sarah 
Napier gives free expression to her own indignation 
at the treatment her nephew had received. While 
the " dear spirited boy " had been living in wild woods 
to pass the time till the consent of her parents to 
his marriage with the cousin he adored could be 
obtained, they had cruelly married her to Lord Apsley 
(afterwards Lord Bathurst), and the ungrateful girl 
had consented. " We dread," adds Lady Sarah, " the 
effect this news will have on him." 

It was undoubtedly a blow, sharp and severe. Yet 
one cannot but think, reading the letters written by 
him when the wound was still fresh, that it was 
scarcely so crushing a one as his aunt feared or as his 
Inographer — a poet and something of a courtier too, 
and writing when the lady was still alive — ^would 
have us believe. That he felt the disappointment 
keenly there is no more reason to doubt than that, 
had his love been true to him, he would have also 
remained faithful. But his language was neither that 
of a broken-hearted man, nor of one who desired to 
assume that attitude. 

Writing to his brother, he acknowledges the letter 
which had brought him the news ; and using the 
Spanish language — a task which no man labouring 
under the stress of overpowering grief would have 
set himself — he declared that he was submitting with 
patience to all human vicissitudes. 

In a second letter on the same subject, dated two 
or three weeks later, a strain of bitterness mingled. 



94 Xife ot Xor& £&war& f ftsGeralb 

" I bore all the accounts of Georgina tolerably 
well. I must say with Cardenis, •That which her 
beauty has built up, her actions have destroyed. By 
the first I understood her to be an angd ; by the 
last I know her to be a woman.' But this is enough 
of this disagreeable subject." 

In the same letter he sends his love to dear Madame 

de , " who, upon cool consideration, is as charming 

a creature as is in the world — in fact, she is sincere, 
which is a quality rather rare." 

If a blow had been inflicted upon his faith in 
human nature by the infidelity of his cousin, one 
cannot but believe, judging by the sequel, that it 
was one that quickly recovered. It might have been 
well for Lord Edward himself— well also for the cause 
to which he was to devote himself— had his confidence 
in the sincerity of human kind been less. 

Thus ended Lord Edward's second love aflair. It 
is said that another dramatic incident came near to 
being added to the story. On his arrival in London 
after his prolonged absence he had hurried at once 
to his mother's house, where it so chanced that she 
was that evening entertaining her niece. Lady Apsley, 
and her husband at dinner. It was only by the 
recognition of Lord Edward's voice outside by another 
cousin, General Fox, and by his prompt interposition, 
that the discarded lover was prevented from intro- 
ducing a disconcerting and unexpected element into 
the family party. 



CHAPTER VII 

1790 — 1792 

Lord Edward offered Command of the Cadiz Expedition — 
Refuses it on being returned to Parliament— Decisive 
Entry on Politics — In London — Charles James Fox — 
Dublin — Condition of Ireland — Whig Club — Society of 
United Irishmen — Thomas Paine and his Friends — Lord 
Edward in Paris. 

THERE is something strange and relentless, to 
the eyes of those who follow the course of 
Lord Edward's history, in the manner in which his 
doom — the doom of a cause — hunted him down. He 
had not sought it. In character and temperament 
he was most unlike a man destined to be the chief 
actor in a tragedy. But there was no escape. It 
drew closer and closer, like what in truth it was, 
the Angel of Death. 

Almost immediately upon his arrival in London a 
proposal was made to him. Had the plan with 
which it was concerned been carried into effect, the 
whole course of his subsequent career might have 
been changed. 

He was still, before everything, a soldier. His 
political views, pronounced as they were, had as yet 

95 



96 Xtfe of Xott) Etwatt) fttsGetalD 

taken no practical or revolutionary shape. He was 
committed to no course of action from which he 
could not, in honour, have withdrawn. For politics 
as a profes^on it has been shown that he had little 
liking ; while his recent experience of the difficulties 
in which he was liable to find himself at any moment 
involved by a change of front on the part of his 
brother n»y reasonably have inclined him to r^ard 
with additional distaste the position he held in the 
House as the Duke*s nominee. Under these circum- 
stances the Dissolution occurring in the spring of 
the year which saw his return to England must 
have been peculiarly welcome, as relea^ng him from 
the necessity of once more taking up the burden 
of his Parliamentary duties. He came home, as he 
imagined, a free man, neither contemplating nor 
desiring the continuance of a political career, and at 
liberty to devote himself for the future to the profession 
he loved — that of a soldier. It was while labouring 
under this misapprehension that he received and 
accepted an offer made to him by the Government, 
through the instrumentality of the Duke of Richmond. 

Struck by the good use to which his nephew had 
put the opportunities of observation afforded him both 
during his tour in Spain and his more recent visit to 
the Spanish colonies, the Duke had invited him to 
meet Pitt and Dundas, with the result of an oflfer 
both of brevet promotion and of the command of an 
expedition shortly to be despatched against Guiiz. 

The prospect may well have been dazzling to a 



Xife of Xorb £&warb f ftsGetalb 97 

soldier of twenty-six. The proposal was one after 
Lord Edward's own heart, and he closed with it 
without hesitation ; the understanding being that, in 
return for the honour done him in singling him out 
for a position of responsibility and importance, he 
should no longer be found in the ranks of the 
Opposition. 

In this arrangement there was nothing inconsistent 
with the determination he had expressed in the 
preceding year to accept nothing, at that time, from 
the party in power. ** I am determined," he had then 
written, " to have nothing //// I am out of Parliament,'^ 
He was now, or imagined himself to be, without a seat ; 
and that he should have felt no difficulty in giving 
this purely negative pledge is a proof of the firmness 
of his belief that he had finally withdrawn from any 
active participation in political life. This being the 
case, he would doubtless have considered it idle to 
allow a purposeless parade of opinions having no 
bearing upon action to interfere with the performance 
of his duty as a soldier. Had he been permitted to 
carry into eflPect his intention of retiring from Parlia- 
ment and of devoting himself to his profession, the 
history of Ireland might have lacked one of its most 
tragic chapters. But Fate had ordered it otherwise. 

The matter was considered practically settled. The 
Duke was to report the arrangement which had been 
arrived at to the King, of whose approval and sanction 
no doubt was entertained. An unexpected obstacle, 
however, intervened, and put an abrupt end to the 

7 



98 Xife of Xorb B^warb f tt36enil& 

negotiations. The Duke of Leinster, against the 
expressed wishes of his mother, had, before the arriyal 
of Lord Edward in England, taken the step of re- 
turning his brother to the new Parliament, as member 
for the county of Kildare. He was not, as he had 
conceived himself to be, released from die trammels 
of Parliamentary obligations ; and on the very day 
following his interview with the Duke of Richmond, 
he was made acquainted with the fact 

It must have been a bitter disappointment— one of 
those to which life was accustoming him, and which 
were driving him more and more in a single direction. 
One by one, outlet after outlet for energy and devotion 
was becoming blocked ; and every pathway barred 
save that which he was to be doomed to tread. 

The course pointed out by honour, under these new 
circumstances, was plain, and he did not flinch from 
following it. The alternative of declining the seat to 
which his brother had nominated him does not appear 
to have suggested itself to his mind ; and since he was, 
though against his will, to occupy once more the 
position of a member of Parliament, it was impossible 
that he should take his seat there as a supporter of the 
party which he had consistently opposed. In vain his 
uncle, angered at the frustration, by what he considered 
his nephew's obstinacy, of his plans on his behalf, 
warned him that nothing in the shape of promotion or 
advancement was to be looked for by a man who 
refused his vote to the Government Lord Edward 
withdrew, without delay or hesitation, the quasi 



tv 



Xtfe of Xotb £&watb fitsOetalb 99 

pledge obtained from him ; relinquished the chance 
of military distinction that he had been offered ; 
and resigned himself to a return to the treadmill 
from which he had imagined himself to be released. 
On a former occasion, owing to a mistaken principle 
of honour, he had submitted his better judgment 
to the representations of the Duke ; but on the 
present one, not the less because to have yielded 
would have been to his own manifest advantage, and 
perhaps strengthened in his resolution by the con- 
sciousness that the bribe offered was the one of all 
others most alluring to his spirit of enterprise, he 
remained firm in his determination. The die was cast, 
and Lord Edward, from the ranks of the soldiers, 
passed finally into those of the politicians. 

For the present, however, if his doom was gaining 
upon him, he remained unaware of it. Men do not 
always recognise the summons of their destiny. 

When the new Parliament met in July, the majority 
of the Government was found to have received a 
slight increase. Grattan, however, with Lord Henry 
FitzGerald as his colleague, had won the City of 
Dublin for the Opposition ; and amongst the members 
now returned for the first time was Arthur O'Connor, 
nephew to Lord Longueville, who, though entering 
Parliament as a supporter of the Government, became 
later on one of the most intimate associates of Lord 
Edward, and a prominent member of the national 
party. 



loo ittc Of Xor5 Et>wart> fftsOenOD 

The summer sesaon was short, and after a large 
sum of money had been unanimously voted tn view 
of the war in which Lord Edward had hoped to bear 
a leading part. Parliament was adjourned, and he was 
at liberty to return to London ; where, in the company 
of his mother and sisters, most of the interval was 
spent until the reassembling of the House recaUed 
him, some six months later, to Ehiblin. 

*' Once I get home,** he had promised the Duchess, 
*' you shaU do what you please with me.** There was 
little doubt that her pleasure would be to keep him 
at her side ; and there he remained, paying her his 
old tender attentions, and performing, besides, family 
duties of the kind indicated in a letter of Walpole's^ 
when, mentioning that a match of Miss Ogilvie*s — not 
more than fifteen at this time — was off, he adds that 
her brother, Lord Edward FitzGerald, had carried 
her dismissal of the suitor, and ** did not deliver it in 
dulcet words." 

Upon the episode thus concluded, as well as upon 
the family lite of the joint menage of FitzGeralds and 
Ogilvics, light is thrown by a letter of Lady Sarah 
N.ipicr*s ; who, writing in October, 1790, relates that 
her sister the Duchess of Leinster, being at Tunbridge 
with her family, **saw Lord Chichester there, a most 
pleasing young man, whom all the misses wanted to 
catch as a prize, and while she was wondering who 
the lot would fill! on, he took the greatest fancy 
to her Hi tie girl Cecilia Ogilvie, just fifteen, who 
went out only now and then as a favour. He 



Xife of XorD £^wat^ f ftsOeralb loi 

talked to her much, sought her out in rides and 
walks, and is so excessively in love with her that it 
would be like enchantment, if it was not certain that 
she is, not handsome, but one of the most bewitching 
little creatures ever known." Lord Chichester's father, 
Lord Don^ll, himself engaged to be married for the 
third time, was for retarding the marriage, alleging as 
his reason that better settlements would be made at 
a later date, ** It is to be hoped," Lady Sarah adds, 
evidently sceptical as to the pretext, "Lord Donegall 
won't delay it long, as those delays are foolish, and a 
little hard on the young folks, who are very much 
in love." 

The Duchess's gratification at an arrangement which 
would, in case of her death, secure a home to both 
her younger children, had been great ; for though 
the litde Ogilvie sisters had been " loved most exces- 
sively" by all the FitzGeralds, their mother felt a 
natural pride, so Lady Sarah added, " in not liking 
to have them run the risk of being looked on as 
half -sisters^ ^ Her disappointment — reflected, one 
may believe, in the bearing of Lord Edward to which 
Walpole makes allusion — must have been proportion- 
ately great when, either owing to Lord Donegall's 
policy of delay or to some other cause, the engage- 
ment came to an end. At fifteen, however, it can 
scarcely have been a very serious matter to the person 
chiefly concerned. 

Even independently of the presence of his mother, 
' Li/e and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox, Vol. II., p. 78. 



toa Uft Of Socb iB&wmb SUs^tuS b 



London must have had manjr attnctioos for Lord 
Edward. Whatever might be the oat in DufaGn, 
there was here no lack of congenial society. Charles 
James Fox was, in spite of the fourteen years which 
divided the coumns in age, hb intimate friemL It 
has been seen how, at a moment when hb own return 
to office seemed almost assured, the latter had at once 
prepared to give practical expression to his affection. 
It was an affection which lasted to die end. ^If 
you see my dear, dear Edward,** he wrote to Henry 
FitzGerald when Lord Edward was in prison — ^when, 
indeed, though tidings of the final catastrophe had 
not yet reached England, he was already dead — 
** 1 need not desire you to tell him that I love 
him with the warmest aflection." While for Lord 
FAlwarvi^ young and enthusiastic, the older man, 
<in>plo ;uul unaffected in spite of his great intellectual 
jHMToi-^, must have possessed singular charm. Unlike 
:\< \^vrv the two in character, they were not with- 
oMt t.^Mc^ '\n a>mmon. Lord Edward's love for an 
^*p\ n iM btc, K^r country sights and sounds, whether 
>y^ Ou* wt^trwlvkn forests and plains of the West or 
M* ^t«i ,%^^n Insh home, is everywhere apparent; and 
\\w \y\\\\ of h<< great cousin, when urged, some ten 

ww^ lu>», fx^ trtkc a London house, might almost 
\\^\^^ »onu U\^\\\ lus |H:n. " A sweet westerly wind,** 
»u»u. I ,iH, »' .^ lv:^\uit\il sun, all the thorns and elms 
|v»-» l^»avhuj«, ,\\u\ {\x^^ t\ightingales just beginning to 
••iM|\, A\s\ \\yk\ M\\lu\c him to listen to his corre- 

.p^iuLm*! •s»ayvMi\M\. The blackbirds and thrushes 



Xite ot Xor^ £^war^ fit3(3eraI^ 103 

would indeed, he added, have been quite sufficient to 
have refuted any arguments in favour of it. 

To Lord Edward's Irish nature his cousin's gift of 
eloquence must also have especially appealed. "He 
seemed," said Godwin, a witness not prone to enthu- 
siasm, ** to come as an orator immediately from the 
forming hand of Nature. ... It was by sudden flashes 
and emanations that he electrified the heart, and shot 
through the blood of his hearers." And adding to 
his dazzling talents the charm of manner, the gay 
and reckless temper, for which he was distinguished, 
together with that power of forgetting the future 
which Madame du Deflfand described when, some 
years earlier, she said, "// ne s^embarrasse pas du 
lendemain^^ it would be no wonder if over the younger 
kinsman on whom he had bestowed his affection he 
should have exercised irresistible fascination. 

Nor did he stand alone. It was a period of unusual 
brilliancy on the part of the great Whig houses. 
A few years earlier the Prince of Wales, fallen under 
the influence of Fox, had been unlearning, at Devon- 
shire House and other such places of resort, the 
austere and rigid lessons of his secluded boyhood, 
and receiving his initiation into codes of politics and 
morals of a widely difl^erent nature to those in which 
he had been instructed during that time of strict and 
careful discipline. Sheridan, FitzPatrick, Hare, and 
the rest formed a brilliant group ; and Fox, still 
forgetting to-morrow, was its presiding spirit. 

At these houses, open as a matter of course to Fox's 



i(H liCt cf Xocd lE^mmSb flt3GecaI5 

first cDusan^ Lord Edward must have enjoyed ample 
opportunities of meeting all the most eminent members 
of the pirty to which he had always been united by 
sympathy and conviction ; while to the chances of 
political Gilightcnment that they afimded, would be 
added, thoe and elsewhere, allurements of aless serious 
nature. To society, unpcJitical as well as pcJidcal, 
he possessed, as FitzGerald and as Lennox, a passport, 
enjoying the privilege c^ free admisaon into the inner 
circle of that eighteenth-century London which is 
described with sudi graphic and lifelike fidelity in 
the noemoirs of the time. 

At all events, and from whatever causes, it is dear 
that the interest attaching to the great centre of 
ci\*iUsation and social life was appreciated to the fidl 
by ** *V f<::i A^arrdr//^ " who, a year earlier, had been so 
strongly sensible of the superiority of primitive modes 
of existence, Possdbhr he felt a jweference for 
extremes in such matters. Or, again, it may be that, 
intercourse with Indians and colonists on the other 
side of the AtJantic ha>'ing had time to lose its 
novelty, a reaction had taken place in favour of 
other forms ot life. Nor must the tact be disguised 
that, notwithstanding the recent shipwreck undergone 
by his aflfcctions, it is to be inferred from the 
language of his bic^aphcr that he had already 
a^ntrivevl, wnth his ** extreme readiness to love," to 
supply, in some Sv^rt, the blank left by his feithless 
cousin, 

•* When 1 am not happy/' he once told his mother. 



Xtfe ot Xor^ £^war^ fit5(3etaI^ 105 

** I must be either soldiering, or preparing to be a 
soldier, for stay quiet I believe I cannot. Why did 
you give me such a head or such a heart ? '* 

In the absence of occupation of a military nature, 
he was pretty sure to have taken refuge, if only to 
pass the time, in that of making love ; and the fact 
that the opportunity of such distraction was to be 
found for the moment in London added no doubt 
materially to the distaste with which, recalled to 
Dublin by tbe opening of Parliament, he obeyed the 
summons. Life in Ireland, under the circumstances, 
offered few advantages. Nor was he in the mood to 
profit by such alleviations as might have been available. 

** Dublin," he wrote discontentedly, "has been very 
lively this week^ and promises as much for the next ; 

but I think it is all the same thing — La D and La 

S— , and a few young competitors for their places. 
I have been a good deal with these two. They want 
to console me for London, but it won't do, though I 
own they are very pleasant." 

He had discovered what was the worst thing that 
could be said of a Dublin woman — namely, that she 
was cold. "You cannot conceive what an affront it 
is reckoned," he tells the Duchess, concluding his 
letter, however, in haste, having received an invitation 
from the lady to whom he had unwittingly offered this 
supreme insult, but who he now trusts is preparing to 
make up the quarrel. 

The year 1791 was an eventful one, so far as Ireland 
was concerned. Already the previous summer had 






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o-v^-- •- - cv rtr.-^ji-'s :-e mo5t im- 

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Xttc ot lor^ B^war^ f it3(Bctalb 107 

Bom in 1763, he had been educated at Trinity 
College and called to the Bar. He had at this time 
been for some months making himself a name in the 
field of Irish politics by means of his pamphlets on 
questions of the day ; and had been for a short period 
a member of the Whig Club, quitting, however, that 
association on becoming convinced that in separation 
alone lay any hope for the future of the country. 
A Protestant himself, it was his constant endeavour 
to bring the Catholic Committee — of which he became 
Assistant Secretary — into touch with the Ulster re- 
formers. 

He has himself left upon record both the general 
aim he set before him and the means by which he 
hoped to reach it. " To subvert the tyranny of our 
execrable Government,** he wrote, " to break the 
connection with England, the never-failing source of 
our political evils, and to assert the independence of 
my country — these were my objects. To unite the 
whole people of Ireland, to abolish the memory of 
our past dissensions, and to substitute the common 
name of Irishmen in place of the denomination of 
Protestant, Catholic, and Dissenter — these were my 
means." 

Notwithstanding, however, the extreme nature of 
the views he personally entertained, the avowed object 
of the society of which he was one of the chief 
founders went no further, at least at first, than the 
obtaining of an equal representation of all the Irish 
people, independently of the religion they professed ; 



io8 Xfte of Xor^ £^war^ fit5<BeraI& 

and the combination, for that purpose, of all faiths 
and creeds. The terms of the oath administered, even 
when it had been altered, at a later period, to suit 
the exigencies of the situation, were indeed curiously 
temperate. 

**I do voluntarily declare," so the formula be- 
gan, " that I will persevere in endeavouring to form 
a brotherhood of affection among Irishmen of every 
religious persuasion," the object to be pursued being 
an equal representation, and the further pledge being 
added that no evidence should be borne by members 
of the society against their comrades with regard to 
any act performed in the spirit of the obligation 
incurred. 

However moderate might be its professed objects, 
the formation of a society banded together for the 
purpose of abolishing religious animosities and uniting 
Catholics and Protestants for the vindication of their 
common rights marked an important epoch in Irish 
history. The astounding rapidity with which the 
association spread proved that the country was ripe 
for it. 

On Lord Edward's career the new society had a 
most important bearing, although, so far from being 
in any practical manner as yet implicated in the 
movement of which it was the outcome and result, 
he appears to have been barely acquainted with the 
man who had been its first leader. Wolfe Tone, 
who was compelled to leave Ireland in 1795, t)eforc 
the breaking out of the rebellion for which he, more 



Xite ot Xor^ £^war^ fit5(3eral& 109 

than any other conspirator, had paved the way, though 
mentioning Lord Edward FitzGerald with a cordial 
and generous appreciation bordering on enthusiasm, 
explicitly states in his autobiography that he knew him 
but very little. 

It would, in fact, seem that even at this com- 
paratively late date, and at a time when the whole 
of the country, in a ferment around him, was presenting 
an object-lesson in the most efficacious methods of 
breeding rebels. Lord Edward's revolutionary views, 
like those of so many of the English Whigs with whom 
he consorted, were mainly confined to the region of 
abstract ideas. In point of practice, he continued to 
content himself with a consistent adherence in Parlia- 
ment to the popular side. Yet, nevertheless, his 
political education was not standing still, and the way 
was doubtless being prepared for future developments 
in the sphere of action. 

It was about this time that his name occurs — some- 
what incongruously amongst the others which make 
up the list — mentioned by Mr. Rickman, friend, 
host, and disciple of Thomas Paine, as one of those 
visitors accustomed to seek the society of his guest. 

Paine himself, just come into additional notoriety 
by the publication of his celebrated treatise on the 
"Rights of Man," was a teacher eminently qualified 
to point out to a neophyte the connection between 
revolution as a theoretical principle and as a practical 
force ; while his lessons would carry the greater weight 
as coming from a man who was a sharer at the 



no Xfte of Xor& JE^ward ftt5<Beral^ 

moment, by reason of the doctrine he had procl^med, 
in the enthusiasm evoked by the progress of French 
affairs, and to whom belonged some of the glamour 
appertaining to a popular idol. 

That Paine's own estimate of the influence exercised 
by his works was not distinguished by modesty is 
shown by an entry in the diary of Wolfe Tone 
some six years later, in which a conversation with the 
philosopher is recorded. It is there described how, 
mention having been made of the shattered condition 
of Burke's mind consequent upon the death of his 
only son, Paine replied, with conceit almost amounting 
to fatuity, that it had been in fact the publication 
of the '* Rights of Man " which had broken the heart 
of the great statesman, the death of his son having 
done no more than develop the chagrin which had 
preyed upon him since the appearance of that work. 

If, however, the philosopher was *'vain beyond all 
belief,'' it could not be denied that he had excuses 
for vanity. The wild and extravagant admiration 
excited in some quarters by his performance might 
well, apart from its intrinsic merits, have afforded 
some justification for the excessive value set upon it 
by the writer. 

*' Hey for the New Jerusalem — the Millennium ! " 
wrote, for example, the dramatist Holcroft, upon the 
appearance of the book, in almost incoherent excitement 
and surely not without some confusion of ideas — 
" and peace and beatitude be unto the soul of 
Thomas Paine." 



Xfte ot Xor^ £{>vrar& jrtt5(3eral^ m 

Abroad, too, the appreciation of the production 
was great; and in a letter to Lord Stanhope — whose 
own admiration was modified by annoyance at the 
maladresse with which the author, by associating the 
antidpated fall of the British constitution with the 
success of the Revolution in France, had alienated 
English sympathy — the Comte Fran^ais de Nantes 
wrote that Paine*s work had something *' d^ original et 
de sauvage comme Us for its amiricaines^ 

Apart from the interest attaching to a man whose 
reputation was so widely spread, there was doubtless 
much in the society which gathered around him to 
attract one to whom it was comparatively new. 

William Godwin, the pedantic author of ** Political 
Justice," had, as well as Holcroft, enjoyed the privilege 
of reading Paine*s great work before it was given 
to the public, and both men, each eminent in the 
world to which they belonged, would have been 
amongst the select spirits with whom Lord Edward 
was brought into association at Mr. Rickman's 
house. Amongst others of its frequenters are men- 
tioned Home Tooke, another professor of advanced 
ideas, the bitterness of whose disappointment at his 
exclusion from active political life, owing to the fact 
of his being a clerk in holy orders, had transformed 
him into an " incarnation of envy," constantly occupied 
in defaming the foremost men of the day ; Romney, 
the painter ; and Mary Wollstonecraft, afterwards 
Godwin's wife, at present engaged upon her work 
relating to the " Rights of Women," and not yet 



3 Xite of Xot& £&wat& jrit5Getal& 

xupying the position of governess to that daughter 
f Lord Kingston's who became the heroine of the 
ragcdy in which, through the vengeance of her 
athcr, her lover lost his life. 

Mr. Rickman*s house must, in fact, have been at 
he moment a favourite place of resort for all who 
¥cre in sympathy with the more extreme revolutionary 
Dpinions, moral, social, and political ; and from those 
to be met there Lord Edward was doubtless learning 
to apply to practical purposes the abstract theories 
of Whig politicians. But, drawn thither as he might 
be by a like interest, he can, by birth, tnuning, and 
character, have had little in common with the group 
of clever and middle-class Bohemians of whom the 
circle was plainly made up. Their company would 
indeed have had for him the charm of novelty ; but 
it is difficult to imagine that it offered other or more 
intrinsic attractions to a man of his tastes, or that 
iinii)!\j; the needy literary men, the artists, and the 
ninrr or less genuine political fanatics who sought 
lVui\r\ society, he may not have felt himself a trifle 
out ol place. Community of principles, like mis- 
lonunc, Im1!\^s together strange bed-fellows. Winning 
«htni^\l\ lA^rd l^d^vard was, he possessed neither 
iMilh.mt t.ilci\ts !\or deep intellectual gifts. So far 
.»•« n^'^'.itivc evidence may be accepted as proof, he 
I airly ojHned a book save for the purposes of 
n\tlit.uv cvlucation, while for any indication of artistic 
tastr it is necessary to go back to the days of 
AulM^ny, and to that ^' very pretty survey" of the 



Xite of Xor6 B^war^ fit3(Beral6 113 

country round the Garonne, of which the fields, 
bordered with colour, and the trees, delineated with 
Indian ink, were regarded by the draughtsman with 
such pardonable pride. Of learned ladies too — from 
which class one would imagine that Mr. Paine's 
feminine disciples were chiefly recruited — he had so 
great a dread that he is said to have declined more 
than once the profi^ered opportunity of meeting 
Madame de GenUs, at this time on a visit to England, 
and thus to have deferred to a later date the inaugura- 
tion of his acquaintance with her foster-daughter, his 
own future wife. 

In matters of religion Lord Edward must have 
stood no less apart from the group of arrogant and 
aggressive sceptics into whose company circumstances 
had thrown him ; since he remained to the last, 
according to the testimony of his friend Valentine 
Lawless, afterwards Lord Cloncurry, a Christian, devout 
and sincere, in spite of the efforts, repeated and 
persevering, which were made to shake his convictions. 
Nor was the son of the Duchess of Leinster likely 
to have found himself more in accord on social 
than on religious questions with this little knot of 
thinkers and writers — adventurers in doubtful paths. 

Nevertheless, uncongenial as they might be in 
many ways, association with the men who formed 
Thomas Paine's clientele in London was likely to 
have had too material an influence in the ripening of 
Lord Edward's political convictions to make it irrelevant 
to dwell upon them in detail here ; while for Paine 

8 



1 14 Xite of %otb £5W8t5 f it50ecal^ 

himself his admiration was so genuine^ and apparently 
so blind, as to cause him to declare that there was 
attaching to the philosopher a simplicity of manner, 
a goodness of heart, and a strength of mind, which 
he never before had known a man to possess. 

For some part, at least, of the year 1791 master 
and disciple must have been parted, since Paine is 
said to have been compelled, in order to dude the 
clutches of the bailiffs, to seek some place of conceal- 
ment known only to Home Tooke and to his printer. 
If this account of the straits to which an ungrateful 
public permitted the popular author to be reduced 
is to be credited, it must have been all the more 
gratifying when, quitting England in September of 
the following year, in consequence of the prosecution 
instituted by Government on the publication of the 
second part of the ** Rights of Man," he found himself 
received on his arrival at Calais with a royal salute, 
entertained at a public dinner, and finally returned 
by that town as deputy to the Assembly. 

A few months later Lord Edward was once more, 
under changed circumstances, under the same roof 
as his political oracle in Paris, the consequences being 
this time more serious, both to himself and to Ireland, 
than those which had attended their former intercourse. 

It was on the occasion of this visit to Paris that 
two events, each productive of important results, took 
place. He was cashiered and dismissed from the 
army. He also became acquainted with Pamela. 



CHAPTER VIII 

Pamela— Her Birth and Origin — Introduced into the Orleans 
Schoobroom — Early Training— Madame de Genlis and 
the Orleans Family — Visit to England — Southey on 
Pamela — Sheridan said to be engaged to Pamela — 
Departure for France. 

WHO was Pamela? It was a question often 
asked during her lifetime, and which has 
not unfrequently been repeated since she has gone to 
a place where birth and parentage are of comparatively 
small moment. The interest that has been felt in 
the matter has been indeed altogether incommensurate 
with its importance. But it is not uncommon for a 
work to be the more successful by reason of its 
anonymity, and to the mystery which veiled her 
origin has been doubtless due part at least of the 
curiosity testified for the last hundred years with 
r^ard to Madame de Genlis's adopted daughter ; 
the touch of romance belonging to her early history, 
her beauty, and the tragic circumstances connected 
with her marriage and widowhood investing her with 
an interest scarcely justified by what is known of 
her personality. 

The theory which has found most favour, and which, 
though discredited alike by fects comparatively recently 

"5 



ii6 life of Xord Edward fitseerald 

come to light and by the distinct discl^mers of the 
persons chiefly concerned, still widely prevails among 
those who have in any way interested themselves in 
the matter, would make her the daughter of Egalili^ 
Due d'Orl^s, by Madame de Genlis, his children's 
governess — a lady in whose person qualities commonly 
supposed to be antagonistic present a combination 
which, other alleged facts of her history taken into 
account, has not been considered such as necessarily 
to give the lie to the surmise. 

In support of this hypothesis the supposed likeness 
of Pamela to the Orleans family has been cited, 
together with the fact of the fortune settled upon 
her by her reputed father. It should be remembered, 
however, with regard to this last piece of evidence, 
that, according to Madame de Genlis's own account of 
the matter, this fortune was no free gift on the part 
of the Duke, but was provided by the commutation 
of monies due to herself, and would therefore afford 
no proof of the recognition on his part of paternal 
obligations. 

To set against the arguments, such as they are, 
based upon these circumstances, we have Madame de 
Gcnlis's distinct denial, made in later years in the 
presence of Pamela's daughter ; the equally explicit 
contradiction of the Orleans, their conduct on this 
occasion contrasting with the admission of the claims 
of kinship in another case ; and the disbelief in the 
story said to have been entertained by the FitzGerald 
family themselves. 



Xffe of Xotb £^wat^ f itsOetalb n? 

The story told by her adopted mother has also 
received the following curious corroboration in more 
recent years, through the enquiries set on foot by 
Mr. James Fitzgerald, magistrate in the island of 
Fogo, Newfoundland, the place, according to Madame 
de Genlis, of Pamela's birth. 

In the marriage contract between the latter and 
Lord Edward FitzGerald, the bride is described as 
** Citoienne Anne Caroline Stephanie Sims, native de 
Fogo, dans Tisle de Terre-neuve ; fille de Guillaume 
de Brixey et de Mary Sims." ^ This account of her 
birth and parentage has been very generally attributed 
to the inventive powers of her guardian, but Mr. 
Fitzgerald was informed by an inhabitant of Fogo 
that a daughter of his grandfather's, Mary Sims, had 
in fact sailed for Bristol at a date corresponding with 
that of Pamela's birth, in a vessel commanded by 
a Frenchman named Brixey, taking with her her 
infant daughter Nancy. Mother and child had dis- 
appeared, to be heard of no more till the appearance 
of Moore's Life of Lord Edward FitzGerald had 
seemed to furnish a clue to the subsequent history 
of little Nancy Sims. 

Except with regard to the name of the father — 
whom Madame de Genlis, though not in the marriage 
register, preferred to describe as an Englishman of 
good birth of the name of Seymour — this story tallies 
well enough with her account of the matter, to which 

*Thc Tournay register, probably through carelessnesSt gives the 
father's name as Berkley, and London as birthplace. 



ii8 xtfe of Xord £^war^ fftsOenUd 

independent corroboration is also aflbrded by an entry 
in Southey*s Commonplace Book, where he gives the 
result of certain enquiries he had himself instituted 
at Christchurch, the place from which the child had 
been despatched to France, no later than August, 1797 
— a date at which the incident would still have been 
fresh in the memory of the inhabitants of the Uttle 
country town. 

A woman of Bristol, he was informed — ^it will be 
remembered that the destination of Mary Sims, on 
leaving Fogo, had been Bristol— of the name of Sims 
had resided at Christchurch with an only daughter, 
a natural child of exceeding beauty and of about four 
or five years of age ; of which child, in consideration 
of a small yearly payment, the mother had consented 
to relinquish the possession, allowing her to be sent 
to France, to serve as companion to the daughter of 
the Due d'Orleans. The affair, it further appears 
from a letter of Southey's to Miss Bowles, was 
negotiated by a clergyman of the same name as his 
correspondent. 

Thus, weighing all available evidence, it would seem 
that the story by which royal blood was conferred 
upon Madame dc Genlis's protegee must be dismissed 
as, to say the least, improbable ; and that it is likely 
that in this instance her guardian had for once adhered 
to the approximate truth. 

It might have been well for little Nancy Sims had 
she been permitted to remain in the sleepy English 
country town, with its grey old minster, and the 



Xtfe of Xord EDwatt) f ft3®eral& 119 

broad, green meadows through which the River Avon 
passes to the sea ; but there is no indication that she 
ever again revisited her early home. 

In her capacity of governess Madame de Genlis 
had conceived the idea of accelerating the acquisition 
by her pupils of the English language by the intro- 
duction of an English child into the Orleans schoolroom. 
Having gained the consent of the Duke to her 
project, she commissioned Mr. Forth, ex-Secretary to 
the British Ambassador at Paris, to select, during a 
vi^t to England, a litde girl suitable to her purpose. 
It was upon the daughter of Mary Sims that the 
choice of Mr. Forth finally fell ; and under the care 
of a horse-dealer, entrusted besides with an addition 
to the Duke's stables, the child was accordingly de- 
spatched to Paris. ** I have the honour," wrote Forth 
to the Duke, ** of sending your Serene Highness the 
prettiest little girl and the handsomest mare in 
England." 

Pamela herself declared in after-days that she perfectly 
recollected being delivered over to the Due d'Orlians ; 
who, receiving her at a side door of the Palace, 
took her in his arms, kissed her, and, carrying her 
along some dusky passages, presented her to Madame 
de Genlis with the words, " Voila notre petit bijou ! " 

Whether implicit confidence is to be placed in 
Pamela's reminiscences may be questioned. She was 
one of those women to whom it is natural to view 
themselves in the light of a heroine, and circumstances 
had fostered the disposition. If one detects in her 



I20 xffe of lord £&wat5 ftt5<Beral5 

later recollections in particular a flavour of the melo- 
dramatic, it is only fair to remember that her training 
may have been partly responsible for the tendency. 
Madame de Genlis herself had been almost from 
infency a theatrical performer, and records in her 
Memoirs that it had been at the early age of eleven, 
and from a young man with whom she had played 
comedy and tragedy for two years, that she first 
received a declaration of the passion she had inspired. 
No doubt Pamela enjoyed the full benefit of her 
foster-mother's instructions in this direction as well 
as in others. A scene is indeed described by the 
Marquise de Larochejacquelin which throws a curious 
light upon the species of training received by the 
child at the hands of a lady who was considered so 
great an authority on education that Southey re- 
commended all who would study the subject to 
acquaint themselves with her works. 

Taken as a child by her grandmother, the Duchesse 
de Civrac, to visit the Salon at an hour when only 
privileged guests were admitted, a meeting took place 
with the three little Orleans princes and their sister, also 
studying art under the superintendence of their gover- 
ness ; and Madame de Larochejacquelin, upon whose 
childish mind the incident had made an evident 
impression, relates how, struck by the unusual beauty 
of Pamela, then about seven years old, her grand- 
mother had made her compliments on the subject to 
the little girl's guardian, receiving in reply to her 
questions the answer, made "a mi-voix, mds je 



%itc of Xotd EDwatd f ft3®etal& 121 

I'entendis, *Oh, c'est unc histoire bien touchante, 
bien interessante, que celle de cette petite ; je ne puis 
vous la raconter en ce moment/ " 

Further, with the object of proving that it was 
not in looks alone that her charge excelled, Madame 
de Gcnlis summoned the child, desiring her to 
**act Heloise." Whereupon the little girl, plainly 
accustomed to the performance and nothing loath to 
display her talents, removed the comb by which her 
hair was confined, and flung herself upon the ground 
in an attitude expressive of an ecstasy of passion ; 
while the little bystander remained ^^ stupe faite^^ and 
the great lady, having expressed her appreciation of 
the performance in terms that left nothing to be 
desired, went her way to describe to her friends the 
version she had witnessed of the " Nouvelle Heloise," 
and to mock at the system of education pursued in 
the Orleans schoolroom/ 

'The opinion entertained by Lady Sarah Lennox of the great 
educationalist is expressed in a letter written shortly after Lord 
Edward's marriage, in which the following passage occurs: "Your 
account of Madame Sillery and her ileves answers my idea of her — 
all pleasing to appearance, and nothing sound within her heart, 
whatever may be so in the young minds whom she can and does 
of course easily deceive. I hope we have got our lovely little niece 
time enough out of her care to have acquired all the perfections 
of her education, which are certainly great, as she has a very 
uncommon clever, active mind, and turns it to most useful pur- 
poses, and I trust our pretty little Sylphe (for she is not like 
other mortals) has not a tincture of all the double-dealing, cunning, 
false reasoning, and lies with which Madame S. is forced to gloss 
over a very common ill-conduct, because she will set herself above 
others in virtue, and she happens to be no better than her neighbours" 
(Life and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox^ Vol. IL, p. 91). 



■» XtCt of XocD Sdwacd fttjOerald 

Under the guardianship of Madame de Genlis, and 
receiving instructions from her in the performance 
of other parts besides that of Heloise, Pkmda remained 
until the date of her marriage with Lord Edward 
FitzGerald. 

Some months before the occurrence of that event 
the Duchesse d'Orleans, unable any longer to endure 
the position held by the gomvernante in her household, 
had made strenuous efforts to effect her dismissal; 
and though Madame de Genlis had at first refused 
to be dislodged from her post^ she had been finally 
compelled, by a threat of exposure, to submit. Such, 
at least, is the account of the matter furnished by 
the adherents of the injured Duchess ; that given 
by the governess being naturally of a different nature. 
According to the latter, the conduct of her mistress 
having become such that she could no longer tolerate 
it without injury to her self-respect, Madame de Genlis 
herself sent in her resignation to the Duke, in a letter 
of which a copy is inserted in her Memoirs. The 
melancholy moment, she told him, had arrived. 
Unless reparation should be made her within three 
ilayM, she was compelled to claim her dimission. "You 
know/* she adds pathetically, "whether I have been 
Hrnflf, patient, and temperate ; but at last I am forced 
tM lulopf a course which rends my heart." 

I lowrvrr it had been achieved, the triumph of the 
huilh^M \\\Vi of short duration. Madame de Genlis 
s^.»«» «»ooti UH.illevi by the Duke, reinstated in her 
ItMiMtt |to«>t, aiul presently, in consequence of the 



life ot %ovb £^war^ f itsOetald 123 

disturbed condition of Paris, was sent by him to 
England in charge of his daughter, Pamela being also 
of the party. 

It was not the first visit of Pamela to England 
since she and the mare had crossed the Channel in 
each other*s company. Six years earlier, as a child of 
twelve, she had accompanied her guardian, when the 
honour of a Doctor's degree had been conferred upon 
Madame de Genlis, and had on that occasion been 
taken to the house of Horace Walpole, who has left 
upon record his impressions of his visitors. 

Walpole was not altogether an unprejudiced critic, 
for it is clear from the terms in which he announced 
to a correspondent the arrival in England of the 
gouvernante that report had not disposed him favourably 
towards the literary lady. There was a bourgeois 
flavour about her which was not likely to incline him 
to condone the faults with which she was, justly or 
unjusdy, credited ; nor did he share Southey's admir- 
ation for her educational theories. 

Expressing his disgust at Rousseau's Confessions^ 
he went on to observe that Rousseau's hen, the 
schoolmistress, Madame de Genlis, was said to have 
arrived in London ; adding that the eggs that both 
he and she laid would be ready to die of old age. 

In a second letter, however, written after he had 
made the personal acquaintance of the lady, he was 
compelled, though somewhat grudgingly, to allow that 
he had found her pleasanter and more natural than he 
had expected ; while of Pamela he observed sardonically. 



124 %Uc Of Xotb EDwaA) fft30eral& 

finding no doubt what he expected to find, that 
Madame dc Genlis "had educated her to be very 
like herself in the face.'* 

That visit had been paid in the summer of 1785, 
It was six years later that, towards the end of 179 1, 
Madame de Genlis and her adopted daughter, this 
time accompanied by Mademoiselle d*Orleans, again 
arrived in England, and after some short delay pro- 
ceeded to Bath, where Mademoiselle had been ordered 
for the sake of her health. 

Madame de Genlis was certain, wherever she might 
find herself, to utilise to the utmost the resources 
of the place. During her stay at the fashionable 
watering-place she combined education with amusement 
by engaging a box at the local theatre, with the view 
of perfecting herself and her charges in the use of 
the English language ; and it was doubtless at this 
time that Southey caught the glimpse of Pamela of 
which he has given the account. 

'* They who have seen Pamela," he says, ** would 
think anything interesting that related to her. I once 
sat next her in the Bath theatre " — he is writing some 
six years later. '* Madame de Sillery " — by which 
name Madame de Genlis was likewise known — " was 
on the seat with her ; but with physiognomical con- 
trition I confess that, while my recollection of Pamela's 
uncommon beauty is unimpaired, I cannot retrace a 
feature of the authoress." 

The visit to Bath concluded, the travellers estab- 
lished themselves at Bury, a place frequented by other 



Xffe of Xotb £^wat^ f itsOetalb 125 

French emigrants ; where the household set up by the 
gouvemante is said to have been of singular composition, 
having attached to it several men of anomalous 
position, who were alternately treated as equals and 
as domestics. The vagaries indulged in by the head 
of the establishment during her residence at this place 
were also reported to have been such as to attract a 
d^ree of criticism which rendered her eventually 
not unwilling to quit the neighbourhood. 

She would seem, however, to have been still located 
at Bury when, in September, 1792, the Duke of 
Orleans, for reasons connected with the laws then to 
be passed with regard to emigrants, wrote to recall 
his daughter to France. It was probably under these 
circumstances that her governess, terrified at the 
prospect of a return to Paris in its present con- 
dition of anarchy — a condition attributed in part 
by the Due de Liancourt to the unfortunate in- 
fluence she herself exercised over Orleans — sent a 
frantic appeal to Charles James Fox for assistance 
and protection. 

To the English statesman she was personally little 
known, though that one meeting at least had taken 
place during her present visit to England is clear 
from an account given by Samuel Rogers of a party 
at which both Fox and Sheridan were guests, the 
latter engaged in writing verses, in very imperfect 
French, to Pamela, who, with her guardian and 
Mademoiselle d'Orleans, was present. 

However limited their intercourse had been, Madame 



126 Xffe of Xorb £&wart> ^ftsGeralt) 

de Genlis was not a woman to be deterred by the 
slightness of an acquaintance from turning it to the 
best account. Her appeal was couched in hysterical 
terms. Dangers, real or imaginary, had pursued her 
across the Channel. At all times prone to create around 
her an atmosphere of romance, her excitable imaginft- 
tion had now become possessed by the idea of a 
conspiracy to carry off Mademoiselle. She represented 
herself as environed by peril. Anonymous letters of a 
threatening nature had reached her, in one of which 
she was designated as a " savage fury," and her terrors 
had now attained their climax. 

" I am uneasy, sick, unhappy,'* she told Fox, " and 
surrounded by the most dreadful snares of the fraud 
and wickedness ! " After which she begged the states- 
man to pardon her ** bad language '* — meaning, it is 
fair to explain, her lack of conversancy with the 
English tongue ; and concluded with entreaties that a 
man of law might be despatched without delay to 
her aid. 

There was one other person, and one only, so she 
told Mr. Fox, in whom she placed confidence. That 
man was Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 

Whether or not it was at the party already mentioned 
that Pamela's first introduction to Sheridan took place 
we have no means of knowing ; but some months 
before Madame de Genlis's letter was written and 
when his first wife, the beautiful Miss Linley, was 
still alive, he had drawn so fair a portrait, for her 
benefit and that of Lord Edward FitzGerald, who 



Xife ot Xotd Edward f itsGetald 127 

luj^ned to be present, of a young French girl 
he had lately met, that Mrs. Sheridan, even then in 
the grasp of the malady which was to prove fatal, 
turning to the visitor with a melancholy smile, 
observed, "I should like you, when I am dead, to 
marry that girl.*' The girl was Pamela. 

Sheridan, in his description, had dwelt upon the 
likeness he had discovered in the stranger to his own 
wife in the days of her early bloom. Whether or 
not that resemblance was to blame for their infidelity, 
it is a curious coincidence that, within the space of 
litde more than a year, not one but both of her 
hearers, husband and friend, are said to have laid 
their hearts at the feet of the girl of whom she 
spoke. 

" When I am dead." The affection of Lord Edward 
for the beautiful woman, some five or six years older 
than himself, already marked for death, was only 
likely to be misinterpreted by a mind such as that of 
Madame de Genlis, who did not fail to put her own 
construction upon it. That there should have been 
mutual admiration, observes Moore, between two such 
noble specimens of human nature, it is easy, without 
injury to either, to believe, and he is doubtless 
right. 

Though remaining attached to his wife to the end, 
the fervour of Sheridan's passion would seem to have 
cooled before her death. Such at least is the inference 
to be drawn from a speculation in which he was 
overheard indulging, as to whether anything could 



X.n: :t Lrcr g muLJ fXj»3caD 



'— ^ ■:^v :> zr^ "r=:— zr? r:r "er, ucing 

^-r ' -.:- . --r:c: v-ri-n ru:^ rci.- r:<rr frsc home 

r~..' ^I.'■ jr : -^::-' "rri: j.-^t. _■: tre v-rr ict of 

^;=f-- -_•; 'zri-n : zzjiz i vrzLi.": -sei to worship 
^•- 1:-.-=^.'- •:: ::Tj.rr: t i ii^:cr;r which had 

^•1-r. f •:-:-:.:. iz l' - -ir-. 1.1 =•:• jZz^ bar the 

• ;- J-: ;. ; : * -^ ' ^J^T i ir. i fr.ini alike at 






: Mxiame 
:e. What 

:;?s:r-ir. does not 
. . r". n^T .e«*eT"~" 
?7 r:7. r:a: the 
; :j :hi uste of 
-=i ^lr:cut celay 
r^:::. in crier to 

OjrcSir, of the 



J. 



■T. :'i: : r.r ::r.vi.-^ --:.. tr.e.r ^^porrare from 
- :, t-.c". 11" fe-^r.f :: -.-ve :i.<er. the manage- 
rs-.- ^f' ir^irr i-:: -:^ :-^n 'Ji-i^, Aner a brief 
.r.r-;rv:i: :.;--.: 1: i:: h::-.", Mii^T.e de Genii s, still a 
;ir';y •^ r.-r r'-i-, i:.i farther alar.T.ed by the proposal 
:*'^orr.; u.ie:, if she is ro be credited, bv threats of 



Xife of Xor& £dwar& f ft5(3erall> 129 

violence — on the part of an Irish gentleman named 
Rice to arrange for her safety and that of her charges 
by their immediate shipment to America or by their 
removal to his Irish estate, consented to accept 
Sheridan's proffered hospitality under the roof of 
a house at Isleworth which, according to Horace 
Walpole, he had rented from a Mrs. Keppel at a rate 
of four hundred a year, on being compelled to leave 
his residence in Bruton Street through inability to 
satisfy the claims of his landlord. " Almost the first 
night he came to Isleworth," adds the distinguished 
gossip, " he gave a ball there, which will not precipitate 
Mrs. K/s receipts," 

So long as balls or other entertainments more suit- 
able to the condition of the new-made widower were 
to be enjoyed, Madame de Genlis was not likely 
to feel an undue amount of solicitude concerning 
her host's liabilities. A month was passed pleasantly 
enough at Isleworth — an interval during which the 
Due d'Orleans was fuming in vain at Paris over 
his daughter's delay in yielding obedience to his 
summons, and the not inconsolable Sheridan was 
falling so deeply in love that — again on Madame de 
Genlis's authority — he made Pamela, two days before 
the date finally fixed upon for the departure of his 
guests, a formal offer of marriage. 

Whether the proposal is to be regarded In the light 
of a serious one, or whether the whole afiair was 
viewed by the playwright merely as a diverting 
episode, remains a doubtful question ; nor does his 

9 



iio !tific or iMd B»«aO fit30ecal5 

subsequent cosaduct xrre to docidatc it. Two days 
after the offer h&i been nude and accepted, the party 
set out for Dorcr, on the understamfing that Madame 
de Genlis, after duly pbdng MademoiseUe in the 
hands of her father, should return to England with 
Pamela, and that the martiage should then take place. 
Apparently, however, more anxious to secure the 
present companionship of his betrothed than to hasten 
his permanent possession of her, Sheridan contrived, 
by means of what, in the opinion of his biqgnqiher, was 
an elaborate practical joke, so to terrify her guardian 
by the astonishing adventures encountered on the way 
to the coast that, returning to London, she threw 
herself once more, with her charges, upon the hoq>i- 
tality of the comedian, to last until such time — it 
proved to be no less than a month distant — as the 
claims of business should permit of his giving die 
travellers his personal escort to the coast The 
journey on this second occasion was accomplished in 
«afcty ; and, arrived at Dover, a tearful parting took 
place, Sheridan, according to Madame de Genlis, 
Uc'in^r prevented by his political duties alone from 
attending the party to Paris. 

I liu\ Mr. Sheridan seriously contemplated making 
the little French adventuress his wife, he would have 
iUmc well to disregard the claims of duty. That leave- 
taking by the sea is the last occasion in which he 
appears in the character of her affianced husband. 
Whether the discovery of the unsatisfactory condition 
of his finances led Madame de Genlis to entertain 



Xife of Xor6 £5war6 f it5<Beral& 131 

doubts of the pradencc of the arrangement ; whether 
the young lady herself had already wearied of a lover 
more than twice her age, Sheridan being above forty, 
and Pamela not more than either fifteen or nineteen 
according as we accept her own statement or that of 
her adopted mother — there exists a discrepancy of 
no less than four years ; or whether the appearance 
of a more eligible suitor was sufficient to banish 
the recollection of poor Sheridan's claims, it is clear 
that no morbid sense of honour was permitted to 
darken counsel, or to prove a hindrance to the forma- 
tion of fresh ties. There is not so much as a mention 
of the fact of her late host's dismissal ; he simply, 
so far as Pamela is concerned, disappears from the 
scene. 

As for the dramatist himself, whatever may have 
been his sentiments towards the pretty little French 
girl — ^and one would be loath to believe that he 
regarded her, by reason of her doubtful origin and 
dependent position, as fitted to be cast for a leading 
part in a farce — it does not appear that her infidelity 
left him inconsolable. Four years later, turning his 
back upon wandering heroines of romance, he married 
the daughter of a Dean and the granddaughter 
of a Bishop, possessed not only of the unsubstantial 
advantages of youth and beauty, but of the more solid 
recommendations of four thousand pounds. 

Returning to Pamela, one of the series of episodes 
which make up her history was concluded. Another 
was promptly to begin, and that the one to which 



132 Xife of XorD £5war6 f it5(3etal& 

her interest in the eyes of English readers is chiefly 
due.^ 

1 It is curious that in Sheridan's latest and fullest biography not 
only is silence preserved as to this entire episode, but no mention is 
made of the two months, more or less, spent by the foreign visitors at 
Isleworth, Whether or not the statements of Madame de Genlis as to 
the relations between her adopted daughter and Sheridan are allowed 
to carry weight, that those relations were at least of a nature to 
attract the attention of London society is plain from a letter written 
in October, 1792, by Lady Elliot to Lady Malmesbury, in which an 
assertion is hazarded to the efifect that Sheridan "is so much in love 
with Madame de Genlis*s Pamela, that he means to marry her, if she 
will have him"; while Sir Gilbert Elliot himself later on, after 
announcing Lord Edward FitzGerald's marriage to " Pamela, Madame 
de Genlis's daughter," goes on to add that " Sheridan is said to have 
been refused by her." 



CHAPTER IX 

1792 

Lord Edward in Paris — Spirit of the Revolution — Enthusiasm 
in England and Ireland — Shared by Lord Edward — 
Compromising Action on his Part — Meeting with Pamela 
— The Due d'Orl6ans and Madame de Genlis — Marriage 
of Lord Edward and Pamela — Lord Edward Cashiered. 

WHEN Madame de Genlis and her charges at 
length reached Paris, another visitor had 
arrived there — a visitor who had already spent some 
weeks in the French capital, and whose stay was now 
drawing to an end. This was Lord Edward FitzGerald. 

The course of events in France had been watched 
with intense interest by lookers-on in England, by 
whom they had been regarded with sentiments ranging 
from the deepest distrust of the '^strange, nameless, 
wild, and enthusiastic thing " which the Republican 
Government appeared to Burke, together with horror 
at the brutalities by which it had already been dis- 
figured, to the most extravagant enthusiasm for what 
was looked upon as the dawn of an epoch of justice, 
liberty, and peace. 

Among responsible statesmen, the unmeasured 
admiration that had been entertained by Fox for the 

133 



134 Xtfit Of Xorb £^warb fttsOexaSb 

principles which were now achieving their triumph 
was so well recognised that even after the massacres 
of September, 1 792, his refusal of the proffered honour 
of French citizenship seems to have caused surprise 
as well as disappointment to those employed to sound 
him on the subject. When the Revolution Society 
hired Ranelagh for the celebration of the anniversary 
of the French Confederation, it was announced that 
Sheridan would take part in the proceedings. While, 
as an instance of the hopes which prevailed at the 
time among less practical politicians with r^ard to the 
new era which had been inaugurated, it may suffice 
to quote the opinion gravely expressed by so un- 
emotional a philosopher as William Godwin, who 
asserted his belief that, granted a condition of 
sufficient liberty — such as that now obtaining in France 
— the existence of vice would be impossible. 

The spirit of the Revolution was essentially a 
proselytising one. Its emissaries were constandy 
making their appearance, in London and elsewhere, 
with the object of spreading abroad the principles 
upon which it had been based, and of offering sympathy 
and help to those suffering under injustice and wrong. 
The disinherited of all nations were at length to be 
put in possession of that which was theirs by right 
The liberty which France had already made her own 
was to be diffused over the entire face of the earth. 

It was a dazzling dream, to which converts were 
made every day ; nor was England slow to respond 
to the advances she received. Every class which 



%Mt or Xot& JEdwarb fft56eraI5 135 

had, or conceived itself to have, a grievance^ looked 
across the Channel for help ; English revolutionary 
societies sent deputations to France to offer the 
congratulations of those they represented at the bar 
of the Convention. In an address to the latter put 
forth by a large body of Englishmen, it was declared 
to be the duty of all true Britons to support and 
assist the defenders of the Rights of Man and the 
propagators of human felicity, and to swear in- 
violable friendship to France, the land which was 
already what Britons were preparing to become — 
free. It was hoped to establish a National Convention 
on the French model; and, in the words of the 
President, the festival which had been celebrated in 
England in honour of the Revolution in France was 
the prelude to the festival of nations. 

It is difficult, now that more than a hundred years 
has passed since that fever fit of hope and anticipation, 
to realise the condition of excitement which so widely 
prevailed. Some of the ideals then first heard of, at 
least by the crowd, have been partially realised ; some 
of the principles then enunciated have almost taken 
their place as unquestioned truisms. And still sin and 
misery are as rife as ever among us, nor are there 
any indications that they are likely to cease to 
exist. The results to be looked for through im- 
provement in political institutions have been modified 
and corrected by experience. But a century ago it 
was a different matter. Nothing then appeared to 
the devotees of the new faith impossible. 



136 Xtfe of Xot& £&warb flt$OcaiJEb 

The attitude of a large section of English democrats 
has been described. It was only what was to be 
expected that in Ireland^ where no traditional pre^ 
judice with regard to France had to be overcome 
and where existing grievances were pressing with 
incomparably greater weight than on the other side 
of St. George's Channel, enthusiasm should have 
risen to a still greater height. The absolute religious 
equality, in particular, which formed a fundamental 
principle of the Republic, was calculated to appeal 
with special force to Irish sentiment at a time 
when adherents of all creeds were to be found 
combining in a common cause, and when a de- 
termination on the part of the national party to sink 
religious differences and to work together in harmony 
was finding expression in the formation of that 
" Plot of Patriots " — the Society of United Irishmen. 
Although the Established Church maintained its opposi- 
tion to the popular demands, such an amalgamation 
of other religious parties had taken place as might well 
cause disquiet to the Government. A new enthusiasm, 
according to Grattan, had gone forth in the place of 
religion, much more adverse to kings than Popery, 
and infinitely more prevailing — the spirit of Re- 
publicanism. 

That this spirit should be vehemently enlisted on 
the side of France, engaged almost single-handed in 
her struggle with those pledged to the maintenance 
of ancient rights and customs and privileges, was of 
course inevitable ; nor was Ireland slow to give ex- 



Xffe of Xotb £dwar& f itaOeralb 137 

pression to her sympathy. On July 14th, 1792, 
Belfast celebrated, in true Republican fashion, the 
anniversary of the French Revolution ; and at 
a dinner given a day or two later in honour of 
the occasion, Catholic and Protestant Dissenter met 
tc^ther in unity and friendship, the four flags of 
America, France, Poland, and Ireland being displayed, 
while that of England was conspicuous by its absence. 

When such were the feelings called forth by the 
Revolution amongst the men, both in England and 
Ireland, whose opinions he shared, it was not to be 
expected that Lord Edward would remain uninfected 
by the contagion of the prevailing spirit. Nor was 
he likely to be content to watch the progress of 
events from afar, 

** Is it not delightful ? " he had written to his 
mother in October, referring to the "good French 
news ** — doubtless the retreat of the allies and the 
success of the Republican arms. " It is really shameful 
to see how much it has affected all our aristocrats. 
I think one may fairly say the Duke of Brunswick 
and his Germans are bedeviled." 

Unable to resign himself to remaining at a distance 
from the centre of interest, by the end of the same 
month he was making an inspection of French affairs 
at head-quarters, and writes from Paris, dating his 
letter the first year of the Republic, to reassure the 
Duchess as to any possible risk to be incurred in his 
present surroundings. The town, he tells her, is 
perfectly quiet, and for him a most interesting 



138 life or %otb Bdwatb fttKBetalft 

scene, which on no account would he have missed 
witnessing. 

No doubty from his own point of view, he was 
seeing Paris under favourable circumstances, for he 
was lodging in the same house with Thomas Paine, 
and liked his host better and better. 

^* The more I see of his interior, the more I like 
and respect him. I cannot express how kind he is to 
mc. ... I pass my time very pleasandy — read, walk, 
and go quietly to the play. I have not been to see 
any one, nor shall not. I often want you, dearest 
mother, but 1 should not have been able to bear 
Tunbridge for any time. The present scene occufnes 
my thoughts a great deal, and dissipates unpleasant 
feelings very much." 

Though it may have been true that Lord Edward 
did not pay visits, it is to be inferred that Mr. Paine's 
disciple did not wholly lead the life of a recluse ; since 
it appears that, a little later on, the popular philosopher 
found himself so overwhelmed with those who sought 
his society that he was compelled to set apart two 
mornint^s each week for the purpose of holding a 
species of levee, from which it is not probable that 
Lonl l^dward would be absent. Constant visits to 
the Assembly also alternated with the playgoing ; 
and there was no fear of time hanging heavy on the 
hands of the young Englishman. 

Not only was his interest in the events that were 
going forward keen and alert, but his revolutionary 
sympathies were strangely unaffected by any misgivings 



Xtfit or %otb JEdwarb f it56eralb 139 

as to the methods of the Republican leaders. There 
are blanks in all histories — questions to which no 
answer can be given. It will never be known how 
to a nature as gentle and as compassionate as that of 
Lord Edward, it was apparently possible to condone 
those September butcheries, of whose victims the 
blood was scarcely dry ; which had been cause of 
alienation to so many well-wishers of the Revolution, 
and were allowed by so violent a partisan as Fox — 
while striving to exonerate the Jacobins from re- 
sponsibiUty in the matter — to be crimes incapable of 
extenuation. 

Whatever had been the means by which he had 
explained and reconciled himself to the past, it seems 
clear that no recollection of the ghastly scenes en- 
acted in Paris not two months previous to his 
visit had availed to damp Lord Edward's spirits, 
to have cast a shadow over his bright and sanguine 
anticipations with regard to the future, or to have 
mingled with the hopes to which the proceedings of 
the Convention were adapted to give birth. 

To a man of his nationality and opinions those 
proceedings were likely enough to appeal with peculiar 
force. The people that had sat in darkness were 
seeing a great light, and nowhere was the gloom 
deeper than in Ireland. What must therefore have 
been the effect upon an Irishman, having the misery 
of his country at heart, of the celebrated decree, passed 
on November 19th, by which the revolutionary 
Government of France made formal tender of 



I40 Xife of Xotb £&warb fttsGecalb 

fraternity and assistance to all nations, without dis- 
tinction, desirous of r^aining their liberty ; directing 
further the Executive to issue orders to the Generals 
of the Republic to give efFect to the decree. 

It was a declaration which, menacing all tyrannies 
alike, might well have sounded significantly in the 
ears of an Irishman, kindling within him new hopes 
for the future of that " most distressful country ** 
he called his own. The action of the Convention 
was well calculated to dispel any misgivings — were he 
likely to have entertained such — with which Lord 
Edward might otherwise have looked back upon 
certain proceedings in which he had taken a promi- 
nent part on the very day before the decree was 
promulgated. 

On that occasion he had come forward, whether 
on a momentary impulse of reckless enthusiasm or 
with deliberate intention, to make public confession 
of his political faith. 

*^ Yesterday " — so ran the announcement in the 
newspapers of the occurrence which had so grave 
an influence on Lord Edward's future — '' yesterday 
the English arrived in Paris assembled at White's 
Hotel [it was there that Paine lodged] to celebrate 
the triumph of the victories gained over their late 
invaders by the armies of France. Though the 
festival was intended to be purely British, the meeting 
was attended by citizens of various countries, by 
members of the Convention, by generals and other 
officers of the armies then stationed at Paris or visiting 



Xfte of lor& Ebwar& f ft36eral& 141 

it, J. H. Stone in the chair. Among the toasts 
were, * The armies of France : may the example 
of its citizen-soldiers be followed by all enslaved 
countries, till tyrants and tyrannies be extinct ! ' . . . 
Among several toasts proposed by the Citizens Sir R. 
Smith and Lord Edward Fitzgerald was the following : 
• May the patriotic airs of the German Legion (^a 
Ira, the Carmagnole, Marseillaise March, etc.) soon 
become the favourite music of every army, and may 
the soldier and the citizen join in the chorus ! ' Sir 
Robert Smith and Lord E. FitzGerald renounced 
their titles ; and a toast by the former was drunk : 
*The speedy abolition of all hereditary titles and 
feudal distinctions.* " 

Thus Lord Edward burnt his boats behind him 
and finally surrendered himself to the current which 
was carrying him along. That, though reckless, he 
was not blind to the possible results of his conduct 
is clear from a letter to his mother written about 
this time, announcing his intention of returning to 
England the following week, when he would settle 
his majority, if he were not scratched out of the army. 
The possibility, however, does not appear to have 
weighed on his spirits ; and again his admiration 
for the present condition of French sentiment finds 
vent. 

" I am delighted," he says, " with the manner 
they feel their success : no foolish boasting or 
arrogance at it, but imputing all to the greatness 
and goodness of their cause, and seeming to rejoice 



i4t Xife of %otb JEtwmH> fttsOexa^lb 

more on account of its effects on Europe in general 
than for their own individual glory. ... In the coffee- 
houses and play-houses every man calls the other 
camarade^frire^ and with a stranger immediately begins, 
* Ah^ nous sommes tons frhres^ tons hommeSy nos vicmres 
son/ pour vouSj pour wui U mondcy and the same senti- 
ments arc always received with peals of applause. 
In shorty all the good, enthusiastic French sentiments 
seem to come out ; while, to all appearance, one would 
say, they had lost all their bad.** 

Notwithstanding, however, the confidence with 
which he claims his mother*s sympathy for his political 
interests, it was, one cannot doubt, the characteristic 
conclusion of the letter that came nearest to the 
Duchess's heart. 

•* 1 long to see you," he wrote, " and shall be 
with you the beginning of the week after next. I 
cannot be long from you " ; adding, after the signature, 
'* In the midst of my patriotism and projects, you 
are always the first thing in my heart, and ever must 
be, my dear, dear mother." 

It was possibly the last time that such an assurance 
could have been thus worded. Even at that very 
moment, had the Duchess but known it, there was 
another competitor — and one she might have con- 
sidered more formidable than even his patriotism — 
for the first place in her son's affections. In the 
letter containing the expression of his unchanging 
devotion he includes, amongst other items of intelli- 
gence, the information that he was that day to dine 



%Atc at %ovb Ebward |'ft36eral& 143 

with Madame Sillery. It was a fact, thus baldly 
stated, to which the Duchess was not likely to attach 
the significance in truth belonging to it, until such 
time as it should be explained to her, in somewhat 
startling fashion, by the sequel. 

It will be remembered that Madame de Genlis 
and her two charges, Mademoiselle d'Orleans and 
Pamela, had taken leave of Sheridan at Dover, the 
latter returning, that parting over, to London ; 
while the rest of the party were to proceed to Paris 
with the object of consigning Mademoiselle to her 
father's care. 

Circumstances, however, had occurred during the 
delay which had taken place in obeying his summons 
now rendering the Due d'Orl6ans as desirous of 
prolonging his daughter's absence from France as he 
had previously been anxious to hasten her return. 
A courier accordingly was despatched who, meeting 
the travellers at Chantilly, was charged with instruc- 
tions that, had their departure from England not 
already taken place, they should remain in that country ; 
and that in any case they should, after receiving the 
Duke's orders, proceed no farther on their way to Paris. 

If, however, the Duke had changed his mind, 
Madame de Genlis had likewise altered her own ; 
and finding herself so fer upon the road, she appears 
to have determined to deliver Mademoiselle without 
further delay into the hands of her father, and thus 
to rid herself of an anxious responsibility and regain 
her liberty to go where she pleased. 



144 Xite of %otb lEbvoaxb fltsOcsOb 

" I paid no attention to this order," she calmly 
observes, describing the occurrence ; proceeding com- 
posedly on her way, in defiance of the Duke's 
injunctions. 

At Belle Chasse the party was met by Egaliii 
himself, accompanied by M. de Sillery and others ; 
when Mademoiselle, weeping bitterly — it does not 
appear for what cause — was duly given over to the 
care of her lawful guardian. 

**I told him,'* Madame de Genlis adds, "that 
it was with sorrow I gave up this precious charge, 
that I resigned my position as governess, and that I 
should set out the next morning for England," taking 
Pamela, no doubt, with her, with the object of 
consigning her second charge to the expectant Sheridan, 
according to the arrangement made with him before 
her departure from Dover. 

It appeared, however, that obstacles existed in the 
way of the execution of her plan. The age now 
reached by Mademoiselle, together with the delay 
in reaching France for which Madame de Genlis had 
been responsible, had brought her within the operation 
of the laws recently passed respecting emigrants. 
Feeling, it is clear, no great confidence in the behaviour, 
under the circumstances, of his friends the Jacobins, 
her father was therefore urgent in his desire that the 
governess should continue, for the present at least, 
at her post, and that, conducting the girl to some 
neutral territory, she should remain in charge of her 
until such time as her name should have been in- 



%itc of %otb Ebwar& |'ft36eral& 145 

eluded in the list to be drawn up of exceptions to 
the operation of the new law — a matter he pledged 
himself to arrange without loss of time. 

Refusal on Madame de Genlis's part to comply with 
his request would have been manifestly impossible. 
It was accordingly settled — the governess giving her 
reluctant assent — that the party should start once again 
on their travels, after a delay of not more than a 
couple of days,^ the stipulation being added by the 
unwilling guardian that should it be found necessary 
to prolong the absence of her pupil from Paris, a 
remplafante should be despatched within a fortnight 
to release her from the duties which — possibly owing 
to the thoughts of Sheridan and England — had become 
so suddenly irksome. 

In two more days, therefore, Madame de Genlis, 
with Pamela, would have been at a safe distance from 
Paris, and the course of Lord Edward's domestic affairs 
would have been a difl^erent one. But much may 
happen in two days. That same evening M. de 
Sillery, who seems to have been at the moment 
assiduous in attendance, had the happy idea of escort- 
ing his wife and her charges to the play, in order, 
as Madame de Genlis explains, to dissipate their 

* The account given by Toumois, in his Life of the Due d*Orl6ans, 
of this episode does not agree in all points with that of Madame de 
Genlis, the period for which he makes the travellers delay at Paris 
being, in especial, a fortnight. Whether accurate in this instance or 
not, his mention of Lord Edward as ^'Premier pair (Tlrlande,*" as well 
as the further assertion that, condemned to death, he committed 
suicide in prison, does not tend to place his reliability as an authority 
beyond question (Toumois, Vol. IL, p. 296). 

10 



146 Xife or lor^ JE^ward fft9(BecalD 

melancholy. During this visit to the theatre an incident 
occurred which appreciably diminished Madame de 
Genlis's impatience to return to England, and must 
have been more efficacious than the performance they 
had gone to witness in distracting tbe spirits of at 
least one of the party. 

Lord Edward had mentioned to his mother that 
play-going formed one of his Parisian amusements. 
Accordingly, on the same night that Madame de 
Genlis and her pupils were seeking solace and refresh- 
ment at the theatre, he had also resorted thither ; and 
chancing to look up, he was struck by a face in one 
of the boxes — a face which recalled to him, as it had 
to poor Sheridan, that of Sheridan's wife, ax months 
dead, and was that of the girl whom she had said 
she would like him, when she herself should have 
passed away, to marry. 

Lord Edward was apparently in the company of the 
Englishman, Stone, who had occupied the chair at 
the meeting of his countrymen in Paris. This gende- 
man was acquainted with Madame de Genlis. It was 
probably at his house in England that her meeting 
with Fox and Sheridan had taken place, and she 
charged him some years later, truly or falsely, with 
the embezzlement of certain money she had entrusted 
to him. At the present moment he was at all events 
in a position to effect the introduction of his com- 
panion to the loge grillee in which the fair face was to 
be found ; and the acquaintance was so successfully 
inaugurated that by the very next day — so it would 



%JU€ Of %otb E^war^ fits^erald 147 

appear — Lord Edward had received and accepted an 
invitation to dine with Madame de Genlis. Pamela's 
guardian, to put the matter plainly, had made the 
most of her flying visit to Paris, and had discovered 
in Lord Edward FitzGerald a suitor for the hand of 
her adopted daughter who was more likely to com- 
mend himself to her ward than the impecunious and 
middle-aged lover who had been left behind — in tears 
or otherwise — at Dover. 

The day between the meeting at the theatre and the 
departure for Tournay, which place had been selected 
as the destination of the travellers, was spent at Rainsy, 
in company with the Duke, and, again, the attentive 
SUery. The former was in no happy mood ; and 
absent, impatient and careworn, continued to pace 
up and down the room ; until, the winter's day being 
unusually mild, and Pamela, Mademoiselle, and 
M. de Sillery having discreetly betaken them- 
selves to the garden, he took the opportunity of 
informing Madame de Genlis that he had declared 
himself on the side of the Republic ; and, in answer 
to her protest, silenced his monitress by the remark 
— not the more courteous when the profession of the 
lady is taken into account — that, while she might be 
worth consulting on history or literature, she was 
certainly not so when it was a question of politics. 

An effectual end having thus been put to the 
discussion of his recent course of action, Madame de 
Genlis, casting about for a fresh subject of conversa- 
tion, put the pertinent question why, under the 



148 %ttc Of %ot^ E^war^ fftjOeeald 

circumstances, he continued to permit his house to 
remain decorated by the forbidden emblems of the 
Jkur-'Je^isi It appeared^ however, that this tofuc 
was no more happily chosen than the last 

** Because it would be cowardly to take them down," 
he returned roughly. 

Conversation with a man in the temper in which 
the Duke then found himself is not easy to carry on, 
and poor Madame de Genlis adds that, later on, 
she found M. de Sillery no more ready than the 
Duke to accept the good advice she was prepared, 
with a fine impartiality, to administer to him. 

All things considered, she did not feel so much 
regret, one may imagine, at her impending banish- 
ment from Paris as she might otherwise have done. 
At any rate, she made no further delay in obeying 
the Duke's orders ; and the following morning — the 
dinner to which Lord Edward had been invited 
having taken place in the meantime — the travellers set 
out on their journey to Flanders. The Duke's gloom, 
it is recorded, was more profound than ever as he 
took leave of his daughter ; and Mademoiselle, who 
seems to have been addicted to weeping, was once 
more in tears. 

One member, however, of the party was, we are 
justified in concluding, no victim to the general 
dejection ; since at the first stage of the journey 
Lord Edward FitzGerald joined the travellers, and 
accompanied them on their way to Tournay. 

The sequel may be given in Madame de Genlis's 



%itc of %otb £t>war& |'ft3(BeraI& 149 

own language — the language of the woman who, at 
a later date, had her portrait taken with a copy of 
the Gospels conspicuously introduced upon a table 
at her side, that volume having furnished, as she 
is careful to explain, the basis and foundation for 
all her own literary productions. 

" We arrived at Tournay," she relates, " during 
the first days of December of this same year, 1792. 
Three weelcs later I had the happiness of marrying 
my adopted daughter, the angelical Pamela, to Lord 
Edward FitzGerald. In the midst of so many 
misfortunes and injustices. Heaven desired to re- 
compense, by this happy event, the best action of 
my life — that of having protected helpless innocence, 
of having brought up and adopted the incomparable 
child thrown by Providence into my arms ; and 
finally of having developed her intelligence, her reason, 
and the virtues which render her to-day a pattern 
wife and mother of her age.** 

Thus Madame de Genlls upon the subject of her 
own good deeds and the success with which they had 
been attended. Whether the direct interposition of 
Heaven in the matter of the marriage was equally 
patent to Lord Edward's relations may, it is true, 
be questioned. One may permit oneself a doubt 
whether, by birth, training, or possibly disposition, 
Madame de Genlis's adopted daughter would have 
been precisely the wife that the Duchess of Leinster 
would have desired to see bestowed upon her son. 
But, however that may be, there is no evidence that. 



ISO TUtc or %otb SOwacd fttiOctaSb 

during the short term, five years and a half, of their 
married life, Lord Edward saw cause to repent of the 
hazardous experiment upon which he had embarked 
with such perilous haste. Gende, affectionate, and, 
above all things, loyal in every relationship of life, 
he was not likely to prove less so towards the girl 
who — like a child caught and carried along in a funeral 
procession — had been made his wife ; and if it is 
probable that he found in her a companion rather 
for the sunny hours of life than a comrade in the 
darker paths he was destined later on to tread, no 
word of complaint remains to record the fact. 

Another change, besides that effected by marriage, 
had taken place, by this time, in Lord Edward's 
existence, present and future. When he had arrived 
in Paris, only a few weeks earlier, he had been, so 
far as domestic ties were concerned, a free man. 
He had also held a commission in the British army. 
When he returned to England, not only was he in 
possession of a wife, but his name had been struck 
off the list of English officers. On the ostensible 
grounds of a subscription to the fund raised to enable 
the French to carry on the war against their invaders, 
but more probably owing to the publicity given 
to those proceedings in Paris of which mention 
has been made, Lord Edward had been cashiered. 
On the very day that his marriage was taking place 
at Tournay, Charles James Fox was lifting his 
voice in the House of Commons in protest against 
the action which had been thus taken in depriving 



Xfte of lor& £t>war^ fft3(BeraI& 151 

his cousin, as well as two other officers of similar 
opinions, of their commissions ; and was challenging 
the Gk)vemment to show just cause for the severity 
displayed towards these men, of one of whom, being 
his own near relation, he would say, from personal 
knowledge, ** that the service did not possess a more 
zealous, meritorious, and promising member." 

The remonstrance was naturally futile. Lord 
Edward remained — as he himself had foreseen might 
be the case — scratched out of the army. 



CHAPTER X 



1792—1793 



Pamela and Lord Edward's Family— Her Portiait — Effect 
upon Lord Edward of Cashierment — Catholic Convention 
— Scene in Parliament — Catholic Relief Bill — ^Lawlessness 
in the Country — Lord Edward's Isolation. 

MADAME DE GENLIS has distincdy stated 
in her account of the marriage that she would 
by no means have permitted the angelical Pamela — an 
angel, by the way, cast in very terrestrial mould — ^to 
enter the FitzGerald family without the consent of 
the Duchess of Leinster, giving it to be understood 
that Lord Edward had gone to England to obtain 
that consent, and that it was not until his return, 
successful, that the wedding took place. 

Madame de Genlis should be a good authority, 
but there are, nevertheless, grounds for believing it 
at least possible that the Duchess's sanction to the 
arrangement was somewhat belated ; and that, like 
a wise woman, and a mother who wished to retain 
her son, she had set herself after the event to make 
the best of the inevitable. Whether her consent was 
given before or after, it is possible that the recollection 
of her own second marriage, in which there must have 

152 



Xfte of Xor& £t>war^ |'ft3(BeraI& 153 

been an element of romance, strangely associated with 
the excellent Scotch tutor, and which, in the eyes 
of the world, must have appeared in the light of a 
signal triumph of sentiment over sense — it is possible 
that this, with the added memory of all the good years 
it had given her, may have inclined her to take a more 
indulgent view than she might otherwise have done 
of her son's hasty marriage. 

There is, at any rate, no symptom of any interrup- 
tion in the tender relationship of the mother and son ; 
and Lord Edward, writing to thank the Duchess 
for the letter in which she had evidently bestowed 
her blessing upon the match, told her that she had 
never made him so happy. 

" I cannot tell you," he added, " how strongly my 
little wife feels it. . . . You must love her — she wants 
to be loved." 

There is no doubt that Pamela did want to be 
loved. It was a want which she felt all her life ; and 
which, it may be added, she probably took every 
available means in her power — and they were not 
few — to satisfy. In the case of women as well as men, 
though she was not fond of the society of the first, 
she had an exaggerated desire to please, born of the 
innate coquetry which, one of her marked features, 
lasted on even to old age. The Due de la Force, 
who had exceptional opportunities of forming a 
judgment, when asked if, at the age of sixty, she was 
still a coquette, is said to have answered with a laugh, 
*' More than ever ! " adding that when she found 



154 Xife of lor& E^war^ fit5<BeniI5 

herself deprived, in the solitude of his chiieau^ of 
worthier subjects upon which to exert her powers 
of fascination, she was wont to exercise them upon 
the gardener. 

And her powers of fascination were beyond question 
great. Even when nearer fifty than forty we hear 
of her, dressed in white muslin and garlanded with 
roses, dancing at a ball and ensnaring the heart of an 
Knglish lad of less than half her years. And if such 
was her charm at an age when most women resign 
themselves to be lookers-on at life, what must it have 
been in the spring-time of her youth ? Lord Edward, 
whatever may be thought of her in other respects, had 
married a charming wife — upon this head at least there 
cannot be two opinions. Years afterwards, when he 
had long been in his grave, and Pamela, a poor little 
wait on the waves of life, had been washed to and fro 
at their will, a candid friend, giving an account of her, 
and including in the description no shortened list of 
her faults and failings, nevertheless concluded with 
the acknowledgment that she was, in spite of all, 
irresistible. 

As one reads this lady's account in the light of the 
tacts which are known to us, one acquires a clear 
enough picture of the fair little figure, with the face 
which so took the fancy of Robert Southey that, 
lover of letters ;is he was, he forgot the authoress at 
her side ; with her eyes of huu-vert^ her pretty brows 
and dazzling complexion, the mouth the worst feature 
in the face and spoilt by a habit of biting her lips ; 



^ 







n 



Xife of Xort) £&wart> f it36eralD 155 

capricious and variable, assuming by turns the character 
of a lady of rank, an artist of mediocre talent, a good 
and graceful child ; brilliant, vain, gentle and quarrel- 
some ; recklessly generous as to money ; easily amused, 
yet subject to fits of melancholy ; slight, Ugire^ yet 
always charming, — such was the child of the French 
sailor and the Canadian mother, and the daughter-in-law 
presented to the Duchess of Leinster by Lord Edward. 

NobUsse oblige. Whatever may have been her 
secret sentiments as to her son's choice, his mother 
would seem to have kept them to herself, and not 
to have taken the world into her confidence. But the 
situation must have been a difficult one for all parties ; 
though, during Lord Edward's lifetime at least, 
those concerned seem to have come well out of it. 
Lady Sarah Napier in particular — ^who had perhaps 
the fellow-feeling for her new niece which, despite the 
common belief to the contrary, one woman of excep- 
tional beauty sometimes entertains for another — testified 
a marked admiration and liking for her nephew's 
wife. 

" I never saw such a sweet, little, engaging, bewitch- 
ing creature as Lady Edward is," she wrote a few 
weeks after the marriage, " and childish to a degree 
with the greatest sense. ... I am sure she is not vile 
Egalite's child ; it's impossible." 

In the first freshness of her grief after the final 
catastrophe, the Duchess also expressed herself in the 
warmest terms with regard to the " dear little interest- 
ing Pamela, who must ever be an object dear, precious, 



156 Xife of Xort) JE^warD fttsOctalb 

and sacred to all our hearts/' adding that she was a 
charming creature, and the more her real character 
was known, the more it was esteemed and loved ; 
" but even were she not so, he adored her : he is gone ! 
This is an indissoluble chain that must ever Innd 
her to our hearts." 

It is probably the last sentence which gives the key 
to the rest. But it is not only in the case of Pamela 
that the links of such indissoluble chsuns have fallen 
asunder under the inexorable action of time. After 
her first few months of widowhood Pamela and her 
husband's family would seem to have litde to do with 
one another ; the incongruous elements brought together 
by accident had once more parted. 

In Ireland itself and in Dublin society Pamela was 
never popular ; a fact to which Lady Sarah Napier 
is found adverting in a letter written from Ireland 
shortly after her nephew's death to her brother the 
Duke of Richmond, who had given shelter to the 
new-made widow at Goodwood, and whose kindness — 
of which his sister is warmly sensible — is reported, 
though on doubtful authority, to have gone so far 
as, later on, to have included an offer of marriage. 
It is probable enough, for the rest, that the misliking 
was mutual ; and it is certain that when at liberty to 
choose her own place of abode, Pamela displayed 
no disposition to fix it in her husband's country. 

For the present, however, her home was to be 
there ; and after a visit of three weeks to the Duchess 
in England, the two proceeded to Dublin, whither 



Xife of Xort) £&ward f ft3(?eralt> 157 

Lord Edward was recalled by his Parliamentary 
duties. 

The companion with whom he had provided himself 
will no doubt have done much on this occasion to 
reconcile him to the necessary absence from his family ; 
and there is a pleasant glimpse to be caught of him 
about this time, driving his wife through the streets 
of Dublin in a high phaeton, she beautiful, he re- 
taining his boyish looks, wearing a green silk hand- 
kerchief, and frankly delighted with the reception 
accorded by the people to himself and his bride. 

On other occasions it is narrated by a contemporary 
that, retaining something of boyhood besides his 
looks, he discarded, in honour of the principles of 
the Revolution, every symptom of superiority in 
point of dress ; and even went so far as to take his 
wife, however wet and muddy the weather, through 
the streets on foot, rather than indulge in the luxury 
of a carriage. Whether or not Pamela altogether 
approved of this object-lesson in equality does not 
transpire ; one would, however, imagine that the 
method of propitiating public sentiment to which 
Madame de Genlis had had recourse, in sending her 
beautiful foster-daughter to drive through Paris with 
the popular Orleans liveries, would have been more 
to her taste. 

Lord Edward, in attention to details such as these, 
displays the enthusiasm of a proselyte. He was, 
in truth, rehearsing a fresh part. It was one, 
partly at least, thrust upon him by the English 



158 Xtfe of XotO E^warO fttsOenft 

Government. In a sorrowful review of the past, his 
mother was accustomed in later days to date the 
misfortunes by which he was overtaken from his 
summary dismissal from the army, declaring that 
that event had left a deep and indelible imfMrsston 
on his mind, and that a sentence of death, to a man 
of his spirit, would have been in comparison an act 
of mercy. Yet, while holding this as her own view^ 
and possibly finding consolation in thus ascribing to 
others the responsibility for the disasters which had 
followed, she was just enough to add that he had 
never himself admitted that the action of the Govern- 
ment had exercised any influence upon his conduct 

Looking at the matter impartiaUy, it is possible 
that both were in a measure right. The step taken 
by the authorities — perfectly justifiable under the 
circumstances and from their point of view — while 
in no way affecting his convictions, may, likely enough, 
have burnt in upon him the importance of principles 
originally perhaps adopted after a light-hearted and 
boyish fashion, and of which the full logical signifi- 
cance might have escaped him had not his attention 
been directed to it by the course pursued by a 
Government whose special creative talent appeared 
to lie in making rebels. By this means the creed 
which might otherwise have remained — as how many 
creeds do^a sleeping partner in the business of 
life was transformed into a practical, working faith, 
dictating his conduct and ruling his actions. We are 
apt to prize a possession by what it has cost us. 



%JU€ Of Xor^ S^warD ^it3(9etaID 159 

He had been proud of his profession, and to find 
himself suddenly thrust out of it would naturally 
accentuate the importance of the cause in which it 
had been forfeited. 

Had he been disposed to overlook that importance, 
afEurs in Ireland were not likely to allow him to do 
sa Much had taken place there whilst he had been 
engaged abroad in getting himself cashiered and 
married ; and amongst the most notable events of the 
past months had been the meeting of the dtholic 
G>nvention in Dublin. 

The summoning of an assembly to consist of 
delegates from all parts of the country, had not 
only marked a fresh departure on the part of the 
Catholic population, a new stage in their agitation, 
and a strengthened determination to push their claims, 
but had also been the signal for an outburst of that 
smouldering religious animosity on the part of the- 
dominant faction which it was always the interest of 
the Government to keep alive. 

The Presbyterians of the north remained indeed 
undismayed and staunch to their new alliance with the 
Catholics ; and the United Irishmen only abstained 
from sending a deputation to the Convention because 
such a proceeding was judged inexpedient by those 
who were responsible for its management ; but the 
partisans of the Protestant Establishment and the 
upholders of religious and political monopoly took 
fright at once. Meetings were held in various parts 
of the country, at which violent language was used, 



i6o Xffe of XorD £^war^ fitsOecal^ 

pledging the speakers to maintain, against no matter 
what authority, a Protestant King, a Protestant Parlia- 
ment, a Protestant hierarchy, and Protestant electors 
and government, in connection with the Protestant 
realm of England. 

The public excitement was sedulotisly fostered and 
encouraged by Government ; and, according to Richard 
Burke, every calumny which bigotry and civil war had 
engendered in former ages was studiously revived by 
those in authority. Whether or not the state of 
public sentiment was, purposely or otherwise, exagger- 
ated by the Lord Lieutenant, Lord Westmorland, 
himself an uncompromising opponent of the Catholic 
claims, in the accounts forwarded by him to England, 
there can be no doubt that considerable alarm actually 
did prevail in the country. The virulence of the 
hostility displayed towards the Catholics is the more 
remarkable owing to the fact that there had been, up 
to this time, a singular absence of disaffection on their 
part, together with, so far as the priesthood and upper 
classes were concerned, a distaste for the principles of 
the Revolution presenting a marked contrast to the 
enthusiasm excited by it in other quarters. 

On December 3rd the Catholic Convention had 
met ; nor had it lost any time in proceeding to 
business. The petition presented by the Catholics to 
the Irish Parliament during the preceding session had 
been allowed to lie upon the table and had then been 
rejected. In the case of that now drawn up, setting 
forth the grievances of the Catholic population and 



Xife of Xort) £&ward f it36eralt> i6i 

commending to the King the consideration of their 
situation, the step was taken of ignoring the Lord 
Lieutenant and the Irish Government — their recog- 
nised foes— and of sending their petition by the hands 
of delates of their own to head-quarters. 

With the Protestant Wolfe Tone acting as secretary, 
the five chosen delegates proceeded to execute their 
mission, receiving an ovation at Belfast on their way, 
and delivering the petition to the King in person, by 
whom it was graciously received. When Parliament 
reassembled in January, 1793, it was found that a 
marked change had taken place in the tone adopted 
by the Government, the spirit of conciliation which 
was at once apparent being due partly, no doubt, to 
the recent French victories, but partly to the condition 
of Ireland itself. 

Side by side with the agitation for Catholic en- 
franchisement had gone a demand for the reform 
of a Parliament in which, out of three hundred 
members, one hundred and ten were either placemen 
or pensioners, and of a system of Government character- 
ised by Grattan as ^* a rank and vile and simple and 
absolute Government, rendered so by means that 
make every part of it vicious and abominable." 

A new military movement had been initiated, and 
a National Guard on the French pattern had been 
organised in Dublin by the popular leaders, bearing 
as its emblem the harp, surmounted, in place of the 
crown, by the cap of liberty — a defiance much regretted 
by Grattan. It was, however, no longer in the power 

II 



i62 life of Xor5 lEbfWKb ftts^etaXb 

of the Whig Parliamentary party to direct the agitation 
or to fix its limits. The Volunteeis, too, had passed 
beyond the control of Lord Charlemont, still their 
nominal chief. They not only declined to perform 
their annual parade at the statue of William III., but 
discarded their orange badges, and even in some 
cases replaced them by the national green. 

In connection with this new *^ National Battalion*' 
occurred a scene too characteristic of the chief actor 
in it to be omitted here ; more than a suspicion of 
laughter running through what was, nevertheless, to 
him as to others, a serious matter. 

Notwithstanding the hopes which the opening pro- 
ceedings of Parliament had been calculated to inspire, 
the Mouse had scarcely been sitting three weeks before 
Lord Edward had occasion to make the protest which 
has been always remembered by his countrj'men. 

In the month of December the newly organised 
milit:iry body had issued summons to its members to 
iiK'ct and parade ; but on the day preceding that on 
which the demonstration was to have taken place, 
a proclamation of the Government forbade it. It 
was upon a motion, taking the shape of an address 
to ilie Lord Lieutenant, approving of this proclamation 
and intended to extend the prohibition it had cont^ned 
to other meetings of a like character, that Lord 
Idw.uil stood up, not only in opposition to the 
(imcinmerit, hut to many members of his own 
|Mit\, mcKuiini: Cirattan, to give *^ his most hearty 
ilisapprolution *' to the proposed address; **for I 



Xffe of Xott) £&wart> f ft3(9eralt> 163 

do think," he added, ** that the Lord Lieutenant and 
the majority of this House are the worst subjects the 
King has." 

So far the incident rests upon the authority of the 
Parliamentary record. At this stage, however, the 
House was cleared, remaining so for the space of three 
hours ; during which time, if rumour is to be believed, 
the only apology which was elicited from the delinquent 
was framed in terms so ambiguous as, not unnaturally, 
to leave the offended dignity of the assembly unsatisfied. 

** I am accused," the culprit is reported to have said, 
"of having declared that I think the Lord Lieutenant 
and the majority of this House the worst subjects the 
King has. I said so, 'tis true, and I'm sorry for it." 

On the following day, again summoned to the Bar, 
he appears to have made some less equivocal excuse ; 
and, though with a dissenting minority of fifty-five, 
the explanation was accepted. 

Three or four days later the Catholic Relief Bill, 
in accordance with the new English policy, was in- 
troduced; the Irish ministers being compelled by 
the London authorities to give their unwilling support 
to a measure directly opposed to all the articles of 
their political faith. 

The situation had changed with strange rapidity. 
Only the previous year the petition presented by the 
Catholics had been unconditionally rejected by the 
Irish Parliament. Now, in little more than five weeks, 
the present Bill had practically passed. In the month 
of April it received the royal assent ; Catholics were 



i64 Xtfe of %otb £^war^ fit30etal5 

admitted to the franchise on equal terms with their 
Protestant fellow-subjects, and were relieved of most 
of the disabilities under which they had hitherto 
laboured. 

Yet it was, in fact, but a very incomplete measure 
of reform. By their continued exclusion from Parlia- 
ment, the educated and wealthy among the Catholics 
were denied participation in the redress accorded to 
the grievances of the poorer and more ignorant classes ; 
and the foundation was laud for the long period of 
agitation and discontent which was to precede com- 
plete emancipation. How far the more acute of the 
party of which Wolfe Tone was one of the ruling 
spirits were from feeling satisfied with the concessions 
obtained can be read in Tone's own words. In 
his opinion the Bill had the radical and fundamental 
defect that it perpetuated distinctions and, in conse- 
quence, disunion. " While a single fibre of the old 
penal code, that cancer in the bosom of the country, 
is permitted to exist, the mischief is but suspended, 
not removed, the principle of contamination remains 
behind and propagates itself. Palliations may, for 
a time, keep the disease at bay, but a sound and 
firm constitution can only be restored by total ex- 
tirpation." 

As far as it went, however, the Bill was a signal 
triumph to the popular party, and was regarded 
as such, alike by the Ulster Presbyterians and by 
those who more immediately profited by its provisions. 
The Catholic Convention was dissolved, with a parting 



Xife of Xott) £&wart> f it3(?eralD 165 

exhortation to all Catholics to unite with Protestants 
on the question, still almost untouched, of Parlia- 
mentary reform, and general satisfaction prevailed. It 
was, nevertheless, a fact significant of the consciousness 
on the part of the victors that the concessions granted 
had been the result of necessity rather than due to 
any more generous motive, that an address of gratitude, 
effusive and cringing in tone, which had been clan- 
destinely prepared and secretly presented by the 
Catholic Bishops, was so offensive to their flocks that 
it is said that their action put an end for the time to 
all confidence between the hierarchy and the laity. 

The boon to the Catholics, fi-om whatever motives, 
had been granted. One sop had been thrown to the 
wolves who were threatening the Government car. 
But in the direction of reform it was soon evident 
that no step was to be taken. A change had come 
over the condition of public afiairs since the meeting 
of Parliament. War had been declared with France ; 
and the revulsion of popular feeling in England which 
had followed upon the revolutionary excesses on the 
other side of the Channel had been marked and 
extreme. Public sentiment in London was strongly 
excited by the execution of Louis XVI., upon which 
Wolfe Tone made his significant comment, '^ I am sorry 
it was necessary." The theatres were closed, the 
mob clamoured for war, and mourning was worn by 
the entire population, including, with a single exception, 
the whole House of Commons. All this, together 
with the condition of Ireland itself, had emboldened 



i66 life Of Xocb E^«■cb ftaSeaOb 

the Govemmcnt to ibtndon much €)f the tone of 
conciliation they had been driven to adopt, and to 
introduce fresh and stringent measures of coerdon. 

The Irish ministers were, as was to be expected, 
ready and eager instruments in putting into force 
the change of policy on the part of their masters 
at home, and even among members of the Opposition 
there was little dispoation to stand out against the 
measures proposed. While leaving the real question 
of substantial reform untouched, certain other con- 
cessions had been granted, with regard to the pension 
list, hereditary revenue, and placemen in Parliament ; 
and the confidence engendered by the late attitude 
adopted by the Government combined with anti- 
revolutionary spirit, strong amongst all parties in the 
House, to minimise the opposition to the present 
coercive measures. 

Besides the reasons enumerated, the lawlessness 
which was gaining ground in some parts of the 
country was calculated to alarm the National party 
itself. With the decline of the Volunteer movement 
there had taken place a revival of the traditional 
feud between the Catholics and Protestants of the 
North. In the county of Armagh especially this 
hostility had developed into a species of petty war- 
fare, carried on between the Pcepno'-Day Boys on 
the one side, and the Catholic peasantry, banded 
together under the name of Defenders, on the 
other. These last organisations had, moreover, rapidly 
spread to other districts, where, in the absence 



life of Xx>rt> £&wart> ^it36erald 167 

of their Protestant foes, they assumed the character 
of a Catholic peasant association designed to enforce 
the redress of certain practical grievances, notably that 
of titheSy and plainly looking to violence as the 
surest means of attaining their object. Constitutional 
methods of agitation were fast going out of fashion. 

It was with the state of things thus summarised 
that the Government was setting itself to cope by 
means of enactments of increasing severity. In his 
resistance to these bills it not unfrequently chanced 
that Lord Edward, the solitary representative within 
the House of the opinions which prevailed so widely 
outside its walls, stood nearly alone. Thus it was 
almost single-handed that he opposed the Gunpowder 
Bill, a measure chiefly directed against the Volunteers ; 
while with regard to the Convention Act, another 
coercive measure, he formed, this time associated with 
Mr. Grattan, one of a minority of twenty-seven. 

To a man of Lord Edward's temper, with nothing 
about it of the assertive arrogance or noisy self- 
sufiiciency of the vulgar demagogue bidding for the 
suffrages of the crowd, there must have been no 
little pain in the sense of isolation, not only from 
his natural associates, but from those with whom 
he had at other times acted, whose devotion to 
Ireland and to her cause was as true and loyal as 
his own. Yet what real community of sentiment 
could exist between the man whose sympathies were 
more and more passionately engaged on the side of 
liberty — ^liberty as interpreted by the Revolution and 



i68 xffe of Xorb B^watb fttiOenlb 

its principles— whose only hope for his country was 
becoming gradually connected with the idea of 
separation, and to whom England was more and 
more an alien and tyrannical power, to be resisted 
if needs be by force, — what cordiality or union could 
there be between such a man as this and statesmen 
like Grattan, who, in January, 1794, while declining 
to enter into the causes of the war which England 
was carrying on against the propagators of those very 
revolutionary principles, professed himself to have only 
one view on the subject — namely, that Ireland should 
be guided by a fixed, steady, and unalterable resolution 
to stand or fall with Great Britain ? 



CHAPTER XI 



1793— 1794 



Social Position affected by Political Differences — Married Life 
— Pamela's Apparent Ignorance of Politics — Choice of a 
Home — Gardening — Birth of a Son — Letters to the 
Duchess of Leinster — Forecasts of the Future. 

IT was not in the field of politics alone that the 
dividing line which separated Lord Edward from 
his surroundings was widening. 

" My differing so very much in opinion," he wrote 
to his mother, ** with the people that one is unavoid- 
ably obliged to live with here does not add much, as 
you may guess, to the agreeableness of Dublin society. 
But I have followed my dear mother's advice, and do 
not talk much on the subject, and when I do, am very 
cool. It certainly is the best way ; but all my 
prudence does not hinder all sorts of stories being 
made about both my wife and me, some of which, I 
am afraid, have frightened you, dearest mother. It is 
hard that when, with a wish to avoid disputing, one 
sees and talks only to a few people, of one's own way 
of thinking, we are at once all set down as a nest of 
traitors. From what you know of me you may guess 
that all this has not much changed my opinions ; but 

X69 



I70 xtre or %otb £&war5 ftts^etaXb 

I keep very quiet, do not go out much, except to see 
my wife dance, and — in short, keep my breath to cool 
my porridge/* 

With his family, indeed, the cordiality of his rela* 
tions remsuned unimpaired. Of his brother the Duke, 
who, since his temporary aberration, had continued 
staunch to the more moderate section of the National 
party, he went so far as to say — with a touch of 
fraternal partiality — that he was the only man among 
the leaders of the Opposition who seemed fair and 
honest and not frightened ; adding, however, that as 
he was not supported by the rest of his party, and 
did not approve of their ways of thinking, the Duke 
intended to keep quiet and out of the business. For 
his aunt's husband, Mr. ConoUy, he entertained an in- 
dulgent and tolerant affection. ** ConoUy," he observed, 
" is the same as usual — both ways ; but determined 
not to support Government. . . . He concludes all his 
speeches by cursing Presbyterians. He means well 
and honestly, dear fcUow, but his line of proceeding 
is wrong." 

During the first year or two of his marriage 
even his family, however, always counting for much in 
his life, must have been of secondary importance ; 
and politics, though a disquieting element always 
present in the background, had no power to over- 
shadow the brightness of his home life. There is an 
indescribable atmosphere of freshness and youth and 
gaiety about the account he gives of that home to his 
mother. It is like an idyll of peace and sunshine, to 



X4fe of %ovb £5wat6 fttsOenOb 171 

which the catastrophe which was to close it — now so 
near at hand — lends a poignant touch of pathos. 

Lord Edward, it is probable enough, was one of those 
men who, from one cause or another, keep their public 
and private lives in great measure apart ; nor was a 
little feir-weather sailor like Pamela the confidant to 
whom he would be disposed to point out the chances 
of the gathering storm. Life had not been without 
its discipline, gently as he had met it, and his dissocia- 
tion in point of views from those he loved best would 
have already taught him the lesson of silence where 
opinions clashed. Even with regard to his mother 
he was gradually learning to be reticent as to what 
it might trouble her to know. "I won't bore you 
any more with politics," he says in one of his 
letters, "as I know you don't like them." The 
Duchess^ as well she might, was probably growing left 
and less fond of them ; and in Pamela's case, in- 
capable of reflection as Madame de Genlis allowe^^l 
her to be, the very lightness of her character, ntji 
without its charm to a man of Lord hAw'dr4*% 
temperament, would have facilitated the Mrparation of 
public and domestic interests. Political women were 
rare at the time, at least in Ireland, and he wa% t$/4 
likely to desire that his wife should \)c one t/f thern. 

It is true that a description given 1/y a man j^r- 
sonally acquainted with the FitzTjcraJd* ' in th^ 'ijfkfrr 
days which were approaching c/j»nvcy^ a 'l#ff^r^nt 
impression. Ireland, according Uj tht% MX4junt, wa^ 



m life or Xoc5 BmmcD ffl30eraifr 

P^unela*s constant theme, and her hiidxuid*s glory 
the darling olject of her ambition ; wlubt, when 
anxiety for his safety got the upper hand, she would 
entreat, in her sweet foreign voice and broken English, 
his friends to take care of him. ^ Tou are all good 
Irish,'* she would tell them on these occasons, 
** Irish are all good and brave ; and Edward is Irish 
— ^your Edward and my Edward." 

It may be true that when the cri«s was obviously at 
hand, when he was committed beyond recall to the 
perilous course he was pursuing, and when the danger 
attaching to it could no longer be ignored, she ceased to 
avoid a subject which could not but for the time throw 
all others into the shade. It would have been strange 
if, devoted to her husband as there is no reason to 
doubt that she was, it should have been otherwise. 
But from her own account, given at an earlier date, 
it is no less clear that while the avoidance of them was 
possible, she preferred to keep herself apart fi-om 
politics ; electing, with a shrewd instinct of prudence 
which does more credit to her head than to her 
heart, to remain in ignorance of the schemes in 
which her husband was implicated. 

** I perceived," says Madame de Genlis, describing 
her meeting with the F'itzGeralds at Hamburg some 
three and a h;ilf years after their marriage — ** I perceived 
that Lord Edward had imbibed very exaggerated 
\ icws concerning political liberty, and was very hostile 
to his own Government. I was afraid that he was 
embarking in hazardous enterprises, and spoke to 



%Atc Of %ovb £5watb f it3(Betalb 173 

Pamela to advise her to use her influence over him 
to dissuade him from them, when she made me 
an answer worthy of remembrance. She told me 
that she had resolved never to ask him a single 
question relative to his afiairs, for two different 
reasons: first, because she would have no influence 
over him upon such a subject ; and secondly, in 
order that if his enterprises were unfortunate, and 
she were examined before a court of justice, she might 
be able to swear on the Gospel that she knew nothing 
about his aflfairs, and would therefore be exposed to 
neither of the shocking alternatives of bearing witness 
against him or of swearing a false oath." 

Men marry for different reasons. If it may be 
doubted whether Lord Ekiward had gained, in his 
wife, a comrade for the more serious business of 
life, he had at least acquired a charming playmate 
for its lighter hours ; nor does the record of the 
halcyon days which followed their marriage contain 
any indication of a sense on his part of anything 
lacking. 

The first question by which they had been con- 
fronted on their arrival in Ireland was the choice of 
a home. On Lord Edward's own small estate, 
Kilrush, there appears to have been no available 
house ; and until the diflicult matter of the selection 
of a permanent residence should be settled, their time 
was divided between Dublin and Frescati, now vacated 
by the Duchess of Leinster. Of this place, so long 
her home, it appears that Lord Westmorland had 



174 itre or Xorb £^war5 ffts^caOb 

entertained the idea of becoming the tenant ; since 
a year later Lx>rd Edward, who had, as he expressed 
it, got an under-gardener to help Tim — ^thc ssdd 
under-gardencr being himself — gave up his labours 
in disgust, reflecting that they would only benefit 
** that vile Lord W., and the aide-de-camps, chaplains, 
and all such followers of a Lord Lieutenant" 

For a year, however, Frescati continued to be 
available as a place of resort whenever Dublin or 
Dublin society proved wearisome. Lord Edward and 
his wife were meantime weighing the rival merits 
of the >-arious residences which were competing for 
the honour of becoming their permanent home. 

A small house in the county of Wicklow, in the 
midst of beautiful country, and oflfering the advantages 
of trees and sea and rocks, presented at first most 
attractions. But alternatives were not wanting. 
Lciiistcr l^dgc was at their service ; and Mr. 
Conolly, to whose trimming policy Lord Edward 
had adverted, was desirous of presenting a small 
house possessed by him at Kildare, ready furnished 
for use, to his wife's favourite nephew. 

Lord Edward, hesitating to accept a gift of such 
magnitude, also confessed that Wicklow offered other 
advantages beside those of beauty over either Kildare 
or Leinster Lodge. 

** I own,'* he said impatiently, " I like not to 
be Lord Edward FitzGerald, * the County of Kildare 
member,' — to be bored with * this one is your 
brother's friend,' ' That man voted against him.* 



X4fe of %ovb £^warb f it3(BetaIb 175 

I am a little ashamed when I reason and say to 
myself Leinster Lodge would be the most profitable. 
Ninety persons out of a hundred would choose it, 
and be delighted to get it. It is, to be sure, in a 
good country ; plentiful, affords everything a person 
wants ; but I do like mountains and rocks, and pretty 
views and pretty hedges and pretty cabins — ay, and 
a pleasanter people." 

It was more than a year before it was finally decided 
to accept Mr. ConoUy's offer of Kildare Lodge, and 
in the meantime life went on pleasantly at Frescati. 
There was no time for writing letters, so he tells 
his mother ; it was all occupied by talk, and the day 
was over before they knew where they were. Pamela 
had taken a fit of growing — ^was she, after all, right, 
and Madame de Genlis wrong, and had Lord Edward 
married a wife of fifteen ? She dressed flower-pots 
besides, and worked at her frame, while the birds 
sang and the windows stood open and the house was 
ftiU of the scent of flowers, and Lord Edward sat 
in the bay window writing to his dearest mother, 
with her last dear letter to his wife before him, 
" so you may guess how I love you at this moment." 

Picture after picture gives the same description of 
the life that went on at quiet Frescati, as if no such 
things as politics and fierce clashing passions existed. 

*' I am amusing myself dressing the little beds about 
the house. . . . The little mound of earth that is 
round the bays and myrtle before the house I have 
planted with tufts of gentianellas and primroses and 



176 Xife of Xorb £&warb fit3(BeraIb 

lily of the valley, and they look beautifiil, peeping 
out of the dark evergreen : close to the root of the 
great elm I have put a patch of lily of the valley." 

So the letter proceeds, with the trivial details that 
go to complete the picture, and the fond personalities 
of perfect familiarity. There is to be a meeting at 
Malvern soon, but not yet, and a sketch of the 
Duchess herself is introduced, tenderly touched in. 
He wants to be with her, but particularly in the 
country. ** I long for a little walk with you, leaning 
on me, or to have a long talk with you, sitting out 
in some pretty spot, of a fine day, with your long 
cane in your hand, working at some little weed at 
your feet, and looking down, talking all the time. 
I won't go on in this way, for I should want to set 
out directly, and that cannot be," So it goes on, 
till love from " the dear little pale pretty wife " 
(Pamela had not been well), ends the letter of the 
future leader of a conspiracy which might, but for 
his death — such is the opinion of one well qualified 
to pronounce upon the subject ^ — have involved the 
greater part of Ireland in bloodshed. Close upon 
thirty as he was, he was still a boy at heart, with 
not a little of the winning grace of childhood, the 
childhood that to some favoured natures adheres 
through life, clinging round him. 

It was not tiU the summer of 1794 that the 
household was finally established in the cottage given 
by Mr. Conolly, It was in every way conveniently 

» W. E. H. Lecky. 



%Atc Of %ov^ £&watb f it5(^ralb 177 

situated, within easy distance of Dublin, and not more 
than six miles from Lord Edward's own estate, across 
the Curragh — a vicinity which had perhaps suggested 
to him the plan he entertained of turning farmer on 
his own land, though not on so large a scale that 
business should oblige him to remain too long absent 
from his mother. The small dimensions of the house 
was another of its advantages in his eyes — he liked a 
smaU place so much better than a large one. Alto- 
gether his satisfaction in his new acquisition seems to 
have been complete ; and writing to the Duchess in 
the middle of the business of settling in, and describing 
the house in detdl, he tells her that he feels " pleasant, 
contented, and happy, and all these feelings and sights 
never come across me without bringing my dearest 
mother to my heart's recollection." 

Pamela, for her part, is already planting sweet peas 
and mignonette ; and some tiny caps are lying, with 
her workbox, on the table — preparations for the " little 
young plant that is coming." 

Lord Edward's eldest son, the son he was never 
to see grow up, was born in Dublin in the autumn 
of 1794. It had been decided to migrate to Leinster 
House for the event — the FitzGeralds seem, as a 
femily, to have had their homes much in common — 
but it was not without regret that Kildare Lodge had 
been temporarily abandoned. To Lord Edward's 
mind his brother's great house was melancholy in 
comparison, and the country housemaid cried for two 
days when brought there, and thought herself in a prison. 

12 



ir^^ Xifc of XorD EdwarD fitjOcraU) 

The baby's arn\-al brightened the aspect of aflairs, 
ir.l "::s tarhcr was e\'idently delighted with his new 
possession. Lirtle Edward Fox was a success in every 
way. He had Pamela's chin and his father's mouth 
and nose, and blue eyes that were like nobody else's, 
A: present i: was indeed difficult to form any opinion 
of rhem, as they were seldom open. He was, at all 
evLnt<, everything that couid be wished, and was to 
have tor sjx)nsors his grandmother, his uncle the Duke, 
and his cousin and namesake, Fox. 

K:Ki.ire Lodge, too, was rapidly improving. " I 
think," wrote Lord Edward, '* I shall pass a delightful 
winter there. ... I have paled in my little flower 
garden before my hall door, and stuck it ftill of roses, 
sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and Spanish broom. I have 
got all my beJs ready for my flowers, so you may 
guess how 1 \or.j: t«> be down to plant them. The 
l;::le tVU w will b^- a grc.ir .uidition to the party. I 
trii^k, \v::cn I .im vi.nvn ::KTe with Pam and child, of 
a l^lii^tLTv evc!v.ng, with .i j^o.»J :urf tire and a pleasant 
biH'k— coming in, after seeing my poultry put up, my 
garvie:': >vitleJ, flower bcvis :\nd plants covered for fear 
of fro>t — the place looking comfortable and taken care 
ut I shall be as happy as possible ; and sure I am I 
shall regret nothing but not being nearer my dearest 
neither, anv! her ntn being of the party." 

The realisation u( this forecast of a home full of 
happiness an.l serene content was destined to be but of 
short duration. 



CHAPTER XII 

1794—1795 

Failing Faith in Constitutional Methods of Redress — Lord 
Edward's Relations with the Popular Leaders — His Quali- 
fications for Leadership — Jackson's Career and Death — 
Ministerial Changes — Lord Fitzwilliam's Viceroyalty — 
And Recall — Lord Camden succeeds Him — ^Arthur 
O'Connor. 

WHATEVER may have been the case with 
regard to his wife, it was impossible but that 
the subject of politics, occupying so large a space in 
his life and one of growing importance, should have 
found at times its way into Lord Edward's letters to 
his mother. A life-long habit of confidence is not 
lightly broken ; and though silence on a topic which 
must have been an ever more disturbing one to the 
Duchess may have been gradually facilitated by the 
increasing infrequency of meetings between mother 
and son, his allusions to the future, if vague, were 
not without significance. 

In spite of the rumours which began to circulate 
during the summer of 1794 as to the change likely to 
be effected in Ireland by the proposed coalition of 
the Duke of Portland and the more moderate Whigs 

179 



i8o Xife of %ov^ E^watD f it5(Betal^ 

with the Tory ministry, it is evident that Lord Edward 
entertained little hope of substantial benefit to Ireland 
to be obtained from any English party. He was 
anxious that, in any case, his brother should keep clear 
of the Castle. But one thing at least was now certain 
— that, whatever might be the course the Duke saw 
fit to pursue, the views formerly entertained by Lord 
Edward with regard to his own duty, as occupying 
the position of his brother's Parliamentary nominee, 
had undergone a radical change. 

'' When I see Leinster," he wrote to his mother, 
" I shall soon find how the wind sets in his quarter. 
I trust, though, he will be stout, and have nothing to 
say to any of them. I know if he goes over, I shall 
nof go with him ; for my obstinacy or perseverance 
grows stronger every day, and all the events that have 
passed, and are passing, but convince me more and 
more that these two countries must see very strong 
changes, and cannot come to good unless they do." 

It was evident that repeated disappointments had 
done their work with him, as with the nation at large. 
His lingering faith in the efficacy of constitutional 
methods of obtaining redress for the grievances of 
the Irish people was dying out during the months 
divided between the more satisfactory occupation of 
cultivating his flowers and that of making passionate 
and futile endeavours in Parliament to stand between 
the people and the governmental system of oppression. 

As early as January, 1794, signs were apparent of 
the possibility of his deciding to absent himself 



life of %ovb £5watb f ft36etal& iSi 

from debates in which his sole part could be to 
raise an impotent protest against a policy equally 
abhorrent to him whether in its foreign or 
domestic aspect ; and although it was not until more 
than two years later that he finally determined to give 
up Parliament and associated himself definitely with 
the United Irishmen, there can be no doubt that his 
opinions, during the interval, were steadily approxi- 
mating themselves both to the views held by that 
organisation and to the fhethods it advocated ; while 
his sympathies had long been engaged on the side of 
the struggle of which it was representative. 

With regard to the date of the commencement of 
a personal or intimate connection on his part with 
the leaders of the advanced National party, it is difficult 
to form any definite conclusion. The slightness of 
his acquaintance with so prominent a member of the 
United Irish Association as Wolfe Tone, who remained 
in Ireland until May, 1795, would seem to give a 
direct denial to the existence of any close intercourse 
before that date with the chiefs of the organisation. 
At the same time, the fiict that a French emissary, 
sent over in the year 1793, after war had been declared 
with England, for the purpose of ascertaining the 
views of the popular Irish leaders and proffering 
French aid towards the fiirtherance of their objects, 
presented a letter of introduction to Lord Edward, 
and was by him made known to certain prominent 
members of the party, goes to prove that he was on 
confidential and trusted terms with the men who were 



»:'*tti'V '^ ■■'.■ ■="'"^'« *■ 





Irish movement had 

Tone was the mn of m 
(who had, however, doc je( become a 
association) of a doctor, the fioher of tlie two 

was a banker at Cork, NciIson*s a 

Bond was a woollen draper. It 

between these men and Lord Edward there 

have been wanting the starting-potnt of 

intercourse, and that a certain distance^ 

in days when differences of birth and 

for far more than at present, should 

him from them, until such time as the 

of a supreme and absorbing common 

atcd all adventitious lines of diviaon. 

day came, nothing is more remarkable duu 

absence of any trace of jealousy on the part of 

earlier leaders of the movement with 



Wiien dwt 
tke 



%itc of Xorb Bbvrarb f it5(^etalb 183 

the man who was then placed at the head of the 
enterprise. 

Lord Edward has been called a weak man. In 
some respects the charge may not be wholly unfounded. 
But in estimating his character, it should be borne in 
mind that in his adoption of the national cause, not 
as it was understood by Grattan and his friends, not 
as it was understood by the brother he loved and 
respected, or by the mother he adored, but as it was 
understood by men to whom he was bound by nothing 
but a common pity for the wronged and the oppressed, 
and a common enthusiasm for the rights of a nation 
whose grievances were crying for redress, he acted, so 
far as party, family, and class were concerned, almost 
alone. Singly he defied their traditions and identified 
himself with a cause in which he had everything to 
lose and nothing to gain. And to choose such a 
course of action and to carry it through with con- 
sistent loyalty is not altogether the act of a weak 
man. 

Of force of intellect, or of that strength of 
will which consists in deciding, calmly and dispassion- 
ately, after a review of all contingencies and with a 
full appreciation of all side issues and each possible 
result, upon the course to be pursued and in steadily 
adhering to the decision thus reached, he had 
probably but litde. But a strength of his own he 
did possess — the strength that belongs to a great 
simplicity and to a perfect rectitude, to a single- 
minded purpose, to a disregard of side issues and a 






:i T^i -.ir -:vir^ r^-i licsc rf rre A=cricL=. Civil 
:■: -.": :.— :- T-_..---r- •.^i rerrs— i rjsc =xsc*r« of 

v.:--:.-r: :: r r— r'^r^ :r ::Tir rrat r:-T jiii 






r^. Ncr 



Xife of Xorb Bbwarb f it3(^etal& 185 

his mother power to withdraw him from the dangerous 
course upon which he had embarked. But his nature 
was gentle and yielding to an uncommon degree, 
and it was admitted by one who knew and loved 
him ^ that he might be led to concede his own judg- 
ment to inferior counsels. 

" The only measure," adds the same writer, " which 
perhaps he was ever known to combat with the most 
immovable firmness, in spite of every remonstrance 
and the kindest solicitude on the part of his friends, 
was on the expected approach of an awful event, when 
failure was ruin and success more than doubtful. 
* No, gentlemen/ said he ; * the post is mine, and 
no man must dispute it with me. It may be com- 
mitted to abler hands, but it cannot be entrusted to 
a more determined heart. I know the heavy responsi- 
bility which awaits me, but whether I perish or 
triumph, no consideration shall induce me to forego 
this duty.' " 

Writing at a time when it might still have been 
desirable to avoid entering into details, no further 
indication is given by the narrator of the nature of the 
enterprise of which Lord Edward thus refused to 
relinquish the leadership. Circumstances, it is simply 
added, changed, and the proposed measure was 
abandoned. 

The counter accusation of obstinacy has been brought 
against Lord Edward. 

** I knew Lord Edward well," said J. C. Beresford, 
» Tecling. 



i86 %itc Of Xor^ £bwarb f it5(^etat5 

in the course of Emmet's examination before the Secret 
Committee of the House of Lords, in the autumn 
which followed his death, " and always found him very 
obstinate." 

" I knew Lord Edward right well," retorted Emmet, 
** and have done a great deal of business with him ; 
and have always found when he had a reliance on the 
integrity of the person he acted with, he was one of 
the most persuadable men alive, but if he] thought a 
man meant dishonestly or unfairly by him, he was as 
obstinate as a mule." 

It was perhaps natural that Beresford and Emmet 
should have regarded the subject of their criticism 
from varying points of view. 

To sum up. There was, whatever other qualifications 
for leadership might be wanting in Lord Edward 
FitzGerald, one possessed by him to a marked 
degree. He was absolutely to be trusted. Nor is 
that qualification a small one. 

Returning to the course of events, it has been seen 
that he had as yet taken no definite step in the direction 
of active co-operation with the party of extremists ; 
nor did his views, so far as his biographer was 
able to ascertain them from those who had been 
personally acquainted with him at the time, yet include 
total separation. Though numbered amongst the 
men who had incurred the suspicion of the Govern- 
ment, he does not appear to have taken any share in 
the negotiations set on foot in the course of 1794 
between the United Irish body and the French 



Xife of Xord £bwar& f Itsderalb zs? 

Directory, in which William Jackson acted as inter- 
mediary. 

As the first serious endeavour to establish relations 
between the disaffected Irish and the French Republic 
— an undertaking subsequently brought to so practical 
though fruitless an issue, and in which Lord Edward's 
own part was a prominent one — this preliminary and 
abortive attempt deserves further mention here. 

Jackson, for whom it ended so disastrously, was 
an Irish Protestant clergyman, his ecclesiastical duties 
seeming, however, to have occupied a subordinate place 
in his career. He had passed much of his time out of 
Ireland ; and, though in what precise capacity does 
not appear, had formed for some years one of the 
household of the Duchess of Kingston. In the absence 
of more precise information, the letter of a corre- 
spondent of her Grace, enquiring whether her ** female 

confidential secretary " was not named J n, and 

adding a hope that she might never find herself 
without benefit of clergy, may be taken as pointing 
to the fact that his duties were of a somewhat 
ambiguous character. 

Drawn, like other restless spirits, to the scene of 
action, Jackson resorted to Paris at the time of the 
Revolution ; and thence proceeded, as emissary of 
the Republic, to Ireland. The sequel to his mission 
presents one of those sordid tragedies of which the 
history of the time is full. Betrayed by a confederate, 
he was arrested and thrown into prison, where he was 
detained for a year while his trial was pending, an 



i68 life of %otb Edward fltiOcnVb 

intcr\'al spent by him in composing, probably with a 
view to the propitiation of the authorities, a refuta- 
tion of Faine's work on The t/fge of Reason. 

One imagines him to have been an intriguing 
ailvcnturer, of no high or admirable typ^c ; yet there 
is recorded of him one trait not wanting in courage 
and generosit)-. Unusual lenity having been shown 
him during his captivity, his friends had obtained 
permission to visit him in jail ; and on one occasion 
a guest had remained to so late an hour that on 
Jackson's accompanying him at length to the place 
where the jailor was used to await them, the man 
w;is found overcome by sleep, his keys beside him, 

'* Poor fellow ! " observed the prisoner, possessing 
himself of the emblems of office. *• Let us not wake 
him — 1 have already been too troublesome to him 
in this way/' 

L-shcrinu^ his frieiul to the outer door, he 0[>ened 
it ; then, as tlic temptation to sci/e the opportunity 
of niakiiiL; l^oovI his own escape assailed him, he stood 
hesitating. Hut not lor lon^i:. 

** I couKi vio it," he saiJ ; '' hut what would be the 
consequences to you and to the poor fellow who 
has heen so kifid to me?" And, locking the door 
once more, he went hack to await his doom. 

It is a siLjnihcant ».ommentary upon the man and 
upon tlie opinion entertained of him by his friend, 
that tlie visitor, aware of the consequences to himself, 
should he he convicted of having aided in the escape 
of a captive in confinement on a charge of treason, 



Xffe of Xort) £bwarb jfitaOeralb 189 

felt so little confidence in the permanence of the 
impulse of generosity by which Jackson had been 
actuated that he remained all night watching the jail, 
in order that, should the prisoner after all effect his 
escape, he himself might fly the country. 

The final scene is a ghastly one. 

•* I always knew he was a coward," said some one 
contemptuously, who, meeting him on his way at 
last to receive sentence of death, had formed his 
conclusions from what he had seen ; " and I find I 
was not mistaken. His fears have made him sick." 

He was not only sick ; he was dying. Unable 
to face his certain fate, he had stolen a march on 
his judges and had taken poison. The account of the 
scene in court reads like the closing act of a tragedy. 
While Curran and Ponsonby, his counsel, were raising 
technical questions of illegality in the attempt to arrest 
judgment, the prisoner stood in the dock, scarcely 
able to keep on his feet, death written on his face. 
Before sentence could be pronounced, he fell insensible 
to the ground. Could he still hear ? questioned 
Lord Clonmel, before whom the case had been 
tried ; and on being answered in the negative, he 
deferred pronouncing sentence of death on a man 
incapable of understanding it. But that sentence had 
already been not only pronounced elsewhere, but 
executed ; and presendy the Sheriff made the 
announcement of the prisoner's escape. So ended 
Jackson's mission to Ireland, a year after it had 
begun. 



lite of lor& C^war^ jf it30eral& 

X'.'.:; rr-.e-x^urcs of the Government had 

. : *-j f.e.r work in at least driving dis- 

• .-^:^- :, ini the United Irish Assoda- 

- ,: •.«. V •'rr'-i'i. had practically ceased to 

-, . V.:-. . " t'":-* more formidable shape of 

-^-.•' ^\:. with elaborate skill, with a 

. - ,: :"* .*?^crvat:on of the authorities. 

•.-.*•. ' .^i-.ir. the latter congratulated 

.-. . ••• -'. -«::e>> that had attended the 

• ..* .^ ■•.'. -i.: taken to suppress disturb- 

'. . . -".-«'< /.id :r:to sullen and gloomy 

• ., --i: t-e expected coalition of 

. ' • ^-^ . . :"^' Tories took place, and 

V, .-".*., Lord Spencer, Lord 

\ V ..-.;••': w-re admitted into 

\.,- •.- -' -v..: I.^rd Westmor- 

:. . .• y the fruits of 

.-. : — • .: v: Jar.uary 4th 

V * .'.>.- I. -d Lieutenant 

...':;. were the last 

. • . .N J or' the storm. 

• - k • w:: that he 

•. -.to:-:': ; rumours 

. ,:.- 'i' had written 

. . ..^ A.:^.:st, stating 

ur that, in coming 

• V * .>^ -:..'je ir. his labours 
. , ., . r,.^ vvtrc coririrmed, on 



xtfe of Xor^ B^war^ jfit30etal^ 191 

the meeting of Parliament, by the presence, on the 
Treasury Bench, of Grattan himself, the two Ponsonby 
brothers, Curran, Hardy, and Parnell. Petitions 
poured in from the Catholics ; a Bill for their relief 
was to be brought in without delay ; and the repeal 
of the Dublin Police Act was to be moved. 

But Lord Fitzwilliam had exceeded his instructions. 
He had dismissed Beresford, the Chief Commissioner 
of the Revenue — called the King of Ireland — and he 
was n^otiating the retirement of the Attorney-General 
and Solicitor-General, with the object of making way 
for the Ponsonbys. To remonstrances from head- 
quarters he replied by a demand to be supported in 
his dismissal of Beresford, or else recalled. The latter 
alternative was accepted by Pitt ; and on March 25 th 
he quitted Ireland, not three months after his 
arrival, amidst signs of universal mourning. Five 
days later his successor, Lord Camden, had arrived 
in Dublin. The hopes of the people had been 
excited only to be dashed to the ground. 

Had the intention of Government at this juncture 
been that to which Lord Castlereagh's words pointed 
when, in the course of McNevin's examination before 
the Secret Committee, he confessed that '' means 
were taken to make the Irish United system explode," 
no course of action could have been better calculated 
to attain that object. Popular anticipation had been 
raised to fever heat only to find itself deceived in every 
hope that had been held out. It was no wonder if 
the people were irritated to the point of madness. *' It 




i»ard% * Ir were to be wished thmt they would 
rebeL* Good Godl—wisbed thej would rthdlj 
Here b the tjrstcm^ and the priodpJe of the sYftem.*^ 
_ The Citbolsc Emancipation BUI, w^-^ ^id 
BbiwiBm remained in ofEc^ would ics havcj 

pMwed witboot diffiodty^ was thrown out ; aad 
^ne the events iession came to an emL 
'lo the iMMiifiie^ in the absence of mformaiic 
lim whyact; we may conclude that the 
Kildiie Lodge went on as before. The master] 
^f the house continued to cUvide his dayi bctwcaen the 
rutthralioii of his iowers^ the society of his wife ani} 
at little Edward Fa3c«— cbubtl^s an incr^isingly 
iddition ** to the par^f^^and the gradual devclof 
of the political coovicrions which, rarly in the followingl 
year, led him to take Ac delinitc step of 
him^tf practically, if not yet formally, with the Unif e 
Irishmen, 

With one Parltamcntary coUeaguc he had by thil 
time fornied a close intimacy. This was with Arthi 
O'Connor, 

Kcturncd, it will be rcmembCTtd* to Parliament 
in the year I79t» O'Connor had b<^un his politico 
career as an adherent of the Casde, and with pr 
of Lord WcstmurUnd, By the do^ of the session] 
of *95, however, his opinions had undergone so mdic 
1 change that, in direct opposition to the views of 
uncle, he made a brilliant detbice of the Cathc 



Xite of XocO £^«■c^ fttsOeaSb 195 

Emancipation Bill ; cooccnring hiixise}f in oKisequctKr 
bound in honour to relinquish the sen he owed to 
Lord Longueville, and forfeiting besades a j € o^ ^ :> 
he had expected to inherit. An able man, and not 
devoid of personal attraction, he docs not appear, in 
qnte of his sacrifices to the cause he had aiopred, 
to have been wholly liked, or altogether trusted, 
by his new comrades; while he, for his part, is 
ssud to have surveyed with supercilious didike almost 
every Irish patriot with whom he was brought 
into contact. 

Educated to be a clergyman, he had gone so far 
as to receive deacon's orders ; but had then thrown 
up the ecclesiastical career^ bringing away from his 
apprenticeship nothing but a bitter hostility towards 
all Churches alike. A story is told of a dinner at 
the FitzGeralds', when the violence of the invectives 
directed by him against hypocrisy, superstition, and 
finally Christianity itself, unrestrained by the presence 
of his hostess, was such as to call forth the indignant 
protest of a noted preacher, who chanced to be his 
fellow-guest. Waiting, with better taste than the 
layman, till Pamela should have left the room, the 
priest turned to Lord Edward, who had listened to 
O'Connor in dissenting silence. ** My lord," he 
began, " I have sat in silence as long as 1 could remain 
silent " ; and it is added that in the denunciation 
which followed he so maintained his reputation for 
eloquence that the delinquent was reduced, if not to 
penitence, at least to speechlessness. 

13 



I i4 xtre or Xor^ £^war^ fttsOctaXb 

On political matters O'Connor's opinions were 
!Ti ^v\ny in a parallel direction to Lord Edward's own, 
\\ th the result that, at a slightly earlier date than 
h-N tricnJ, he also became a member of the United 
AsNiviation. 

The two were in constant intercourse, and it was in 
the company ot* his new companion that an occurrence 
tiv^k plu'c to which the undue and disproportionate 
iinport.iricc .icci^rJcd by Lord Edward*s biographers 
affords a sii:n.il illustration of their determination to 
view .i:iy incident connected with him, of no matter 
hi>w sl-.^h: .1 nature, in a serious light. 

I he story is well known which recounts how, 
T\.\:r.j: with O'Connor across the Curragh, where races 
were ^oir^^ on, the two were encountered by some 
tc?i or twelve mounted draijoon officers. Taking cx- 
vL/: v^ : > :"".e cv^;;:* o{ the green neckcloth worn 
•n l..'-: 1- .i'A.-'-x:, :*^.L\ S.irreJi his passage with the 
.ie'\L": — ■ ^ .:.»v:"^; \\'kv.t!\ enough expressed — that 
!u- --''. m1.: :-e:':.'\v- t'le o^nc^xious article of dress. 
*• Hv;:/' prMvee.:-- V\c wtll-nuMning but ponderous 
M.i.ivie?!, *' t'u- j^HV", wiHi].!-Se hero little knew the 
stutV o\ \s'y./'i [lu- VAA'A was made whom he had 
uiit'o!-tLi!M:e!y ^::i^k-.: (uit for his experimental exploit." 
Remaining ^.i1:m aiui 1.00K and "in that peculiarly 
i|uiet tone in wiiiJi he was wont to speak whenever 
his niiiu! was ma^le up that a thing of impK)rtance was 
to be J.one," I .oivi Iviward replied by inviting the 
critic \o conu- and remove his neckcloth if he dared ; 
while O'Connor, smoothly interposing, suggested the 



Xffe of Xord £&ward f ftsOerald 195 

alternative of a more regular trial of strength, under- 
taking that he and his companion would await at 
Kildare any message which might reach them there. 

The young officers, however, seem to have thought 
better of the expediency of pushing matters to ex- 
tremities, and nothing jfurther came of the incident, 
except that it is said that, whether because it appeared 
to the feminine mind that they had gone too far, or 
possibly not far enough, the aggressors found them- 
selves, at a ball which shortly afterwards took place, 
left by common consent partnerless. 

It would have been interesting, had Lord Edward's 
light-hearted account of the occurrence been forth- 
coming, to have contrasted it with that of his historian. 
Whatever might be his errors of judgment, they did 
not lie in the direction of manufacturing a tragedy 
out of a farce. 



CHAPTER XIII 

1796 

Dangerous State of the CountiT— Protestants and Catholics — 
Savage Military Measures — Lord Edward joins the United 
Association— Its Warlike Character— The « Bloody Code" 
— Lord Edward's Speech on Insurrection Act — Mission 
of Lord Edward and O'Connor to French Goyemment — 
Meeting with Madame de Genlis — Hoche and Wolfe Tone 
— Failure of French Expedition. 

WHEN Parliament reassembled in January, 1796, 
the condition of the country was such as 
might well cause the Government uneasiness. 

The natural results had followed upon Lord Fitz- 
william's recall, and the consequent reversal of the 
policy he had inaugurated. The patience of the people, 
together with their hopes, were exhausted ; repeated 
disappointment had done its work, and they were ripe 
for insurrection. 

The story has been told too often to need detailed 
repetition here — outrages followed by retaliation where 
retaliation was possible, the one as brutal as the other ; 
the Protestants of the north leagued together with 
the object of ridding the country of its Catholic 
population, and offering to the latter the sole alternatives 

196 



%Atc Of Xord £dward jfft3(^eralb 197 

of banishment — penniless and without means of gdning 
a subsistence — " to Hell or Connaught," or of having 
their homes destroyed and being themselves murdered. 
The Catholics, for their part, in districts where they 
preponderated, had set themselves, in despair of the 
efficacy of other means, to acquire by force that which 
more legitimate methods had failed to obtain ; and 
iinaUy the country had been delivered over to a savage 
military despotism, by which punishment was awarded 
of such a nature and with so reckless a disregard, not 
only of law but even of the forms of justice, that it 
was found necessary, on the meeting of Parliament, to 
pass an Act of Indemnity covering whatever illegalities 
might have been committed by the local magistracy. 
Lord Carhampton, of notorious memory, had been 
despatched to the west to quell disturbances, and 
as an illustration of the spirit displayed throughout 
the country with regard to such persons as it was 
deemed expedient to remove, it may be sufficient to 
cite the treatment accorded, though at a later date, 
to the rebel leader Keugh. In this case the very fact 
that, at the risk of his own life, Keugh had interposed 
to save that of Lord Kingston was held, at his trial, 
to constitute a damning proof of his influence with 
the insurgents, and was accepted as evidence of his 
guilt. The man whom he had saved acted as witness 
for the prosecution. It was no wonder, under the 
circumstances, that when sentence of death was passed 
upon the prisoner, a gentleman in the crowd should 
have lifted up his voice to thank God that no person 



iqS xtfe of Xor^ C^war^ fttsOenXb 

couKl prove him to have been guilty of sa\"ing the 
life and property of any man ! 

Such was the spectacle presented by the unhappy 
country. It was one which was rapidly tiirning Edward 
Fit/GcralJ into a rebel ; which was sending a man 
like O'Connor, cool-headed and little inclined to be 
sw.iycJ by passion or emotion, to recruit the ranks 
of the United Irishmen ; and was making the 
younger and more enthusiastic of the National party 
decide, in impotent anger — as was done by some of 
the guests at a '* confidential party" of Lord Edward's 
— that the Knglish language should be abolished, setting 
themselves forthwith to the study of the Irish tongue. 

It does not appear at what precise date O'Connor 
;uul l.-ord Kdwiird took the definite step of becoming 
enrolled as members of the United Association. Nor 
docs it seem certain that in their case the customary 
r»:ith \v;is avlmiiiistcrcJ. There can, however, be litde 
Jnuht th.it by the early part of the year 1796 both 
had, to all practical intents and purposes, joined the 
organisation. 

In the new association, constructed upon the ruins of 
that which had been crushed by the coercive measures 
of (lovcrnnunt, there was much that would attract Lord 
l\dward, soldier as he always remained at heart. For 
it was a !>ody, if not distinctly military in its original 
franiiniJ[, eminently adapted to become so ; and which, 
as it grew evident that by peaceful agitation no 
remedial measures were to be obtained, was assuming 
daily a more warlike character. 



Xfte of Xord £&warb f ftsOeralb 199 

For the present, however, its new recruit still con- 
tinued to attend the sittings of Parliament, for the 
purpose of making his futile and despairing protests 
against the proceedings which were there taking place. 
They were such as might well call them forth. 

The policy of conciliation having been finally 
abandoned, the only alternative remaining open to the 
Government was that of attempting, by means of in- 
timidation and severity, either to terrorise the country 
into submission or to provoke an open outbreak. It 
was an expedient which the ministry lost no time in 
adopting. A series of measures was introduced, 
designated by Curran as *' a bloody code," and as 
introducing " a vigour beyond the law " into the 
administration of what still went by the name of 
justice. It was these Bills which Lord Edward still 
attempted to oppose. 

In the debate upon the Insurrection Act he once more 
found himself acting alone. Grattan had, indeed, com- 
bated the measure with aU the force and vehemence 
at his command ; but, in despair of success, he would 
have finally permitted it to pass without a division. 
One solitary voice was lifted against it — the voice of 
the people's champion. 

" The disturbances of the country," Lord Edward 
warned the Government, " are not to be remedied by 
any coercive measures, however strong. Such measures 
will tend rather to exasperate than to remove the evil. 
Nothing can effect this and restore tranquillity to the 
country, but a serious and candid endeavour of 



100 life of Xocb SMmrD lft30e^d^ 

Government and of this House to redress the griev- 
ances of the people. Redress those, and the people 
will return to their allegiance and their duty. Suffer 
them to continue, and neither your resolutions nor 
your Bills will have any eflfixt" 

It was not the language of an incendiary. Even 
the boyish violence which had marked other and earlier 
utterances of the speaker had died out, banished by 
the supreme gravity of the situation. It was a pbun, 
unvarnished statement — a warning of what would 
follow should the Government pursue their present 
course unchecked. 

** While you and the executive were philosophising/* 
saivl Sir Ji^hn Parnell, with a sneer, to Emmet, during 
the examination of the latter before the Committee 
of Secrecy, " lx>rd Kdward was arming and disciplining 
tlic people." 

** Lord luiward was a military man," was the loyal 
reply, '^arui if he was doing so he probably thought 
that was the way in which he could be most useful 
to the eouiitrv ; but I am sure that if those with 
whom he aeted were ccMivinced that the grievances of 
the people were redressed, he would have been [per- 
suaded to drop all arming and disciplining." 

The time was rapidly approaching when, despairing 
of any change of policy on the part of the Govern- 
nunt. Lord Mdward was indeed to set himself to arm 
and discipline the jx-ople. But Emmet was right. It 
was an alternative which, mistakenly or not, he be- 
lieved to he forced upon him, and to which he only 



Xtfe of Xorb £&warb f itsi^ralb ^oi 

resorted when all other methods of resistance had 
failed. 

In the May of the year 1796 the important step 
was decided upon of despatching agents from Ireland 
for the purpose of reopening negotiations with the 
French Government, and of ascertaining to what extent 
its assistance could be counted upon in the attempt to 
effect the enfranchisement of the Irish people. Wolfe 
Tone, who had been too deeply compromised to 
allow of his remaining in safety in Ireland, had, 
during the summer of 1795, betaken himself to 
America ; but, too restless to remain for any length 
of time at a distance from the scene of action, the 
banning of the following year found him at Paris, 
using his utmost endeavours to stir up the Government 
there to active measures. 

His representations of the condition of the country 
and of the extent of the prevailing disaffection had the 
effect of inducing the Directory to intimate to the 
United Irishmen that France would be prepared to 
lend her assistance to an attempt to shake off their 
fetters and to establish, in the place of the present 
tyrannical Government, an Irish Republic. To this 
offer a qualified acceptance was returned by the Irish 
Executive, coupled with the stipulation that the French 
forces to be employed should act in the character alone 
of allies, and should receive Irish pay. These 
conditions having been readily accepted by the 
Directory, and the promise of assistance being 
reiterated, it was decided to send accredited envoys 




«M IfleoCXoit 

fron Irduid to tettfe tne flrtMli of llic prapwod 
alliance, and to arrange a plan of invHion. Laid 
Edward FitzGcrald and Arthur 
adected aa dd^gatea whoac poaition and 
knd weight and importance to the naanc 
they were to be entniated. 

It has been denied that Lord Edward and 
occupied, on thia occaaon, the pontion of andwraad 
agents of the United Association ; and in support of 
this statement might be dted O'Gmnor'a ofwn diadnct 
declaration that he had not been at tlua. date a 
member of the aodetjr. But though hia assertion 
was no doubt technicaUy true, it can scarody be less 
than certain that the two were in fiict dq)utBd by 
the United party to enter into negotiations on their 
behalf with the Republican Government As indi- 
viduals they would have carried little weight ; irfiik, 
besides, the language of Reinhard, in denying to 
Lord Edward the qualities necessary to fit him for 
the command of an enterprise or the leadership of 
a party, must be taken as pointing distinctly to the 
fact that he held the position he was thus pronounced 
incapable of filling satisfactorily. 

It had been determined that the envoys should 
proceed in the first place to Hamburg, to open com- 
munications with the French Government through 
the minister by whom it was there represented. Lord 
Edward, therefore, set out for that town, being accom- 
panied by his wife, with the object of lending to the 
journey the complexion of one taken for private reasons. 



life of Xor^ £5warb fltsOcxalb 203 

Passing through London on his way, he met at 
dinner his cousin Charles Fox, with Sheridan and 
others of the Whig leaders, to whom it does not 
appear whether or not he confided the nature of the 
business he had in hand. Thence he proceeded, 
with Pamela, to their destination ; where, being joined 
by Arthur O'Connor, the envoys lost no time in 
setting on foot the n^otiations they had come to 
conduct. 

At Hamburg a meeting likewise took place between 
Madame de Genlis and her adopted daughter, which 
seems to have given general satisfaction. Pamela 
had been, so far, a success ; and it was not surprising 
that when her guardian called to mind the little 
foundling who had been surrendered to her care, she 
should have experienced some gratified pride in the 
results of the arrangement. The opinion she enter- 
tained of the position held by her former ward in 
Ireland — based, no doubt, upon data furnished by 
Pamela herself— was such as might well afford her 
satisfaction. Amidst all the gaiety of youth and the 
splendour of beauty — so the record runs — she had 
acted with the most exemplary propriety ; and, four 
years married, was adored by her husband and his 
family — one cannot but perceive a touch of exaggera- 
tion here — and even by one of his uncles, who had 
made her personally a present of a fine country seat, 
for to such dignity is exalted the tiny cottage at 
Kildare, valued by Lord Edward, when it was a 
question of accepting the gift, at the figure of three 



104 Xite of locb £Dwarb jfttjGecalb 

hundred pounds! And added to all, Pamela herself, 
the heroine of the romance, was more charming 
than ever. Truly Madame de Genlis had cause to 
congratulate herself once more upon the success which 
had attended " the best action of her life ** ; and in 
the preface to a work published in Dublin during this 
same year — the FitzGeralds probably acting as inter- 
mediaries between author and publisher — she declared, 
having no doubt Pamela in especial in her mind, that 
she consented to be judged by the results of her 
teaching as exemplified in her pupils. It is a curious 
comment upon the blindness of affection that in the 
very volume in which the boast is made a tale is 
included having for its object "de preserver les 
jcuncs pcrsonnes de I'ambition des conquetes " ; for 
one is justified in doubting, remembering the character 
borne by her foster-daughter in after-years, whether 
this particular lesson had taken its full effect upon one 
at least of her scholars. Madame de Genlis was, 
however, by her own showing, careful to preserve a 
distinction between theoretical and practical morality. 
^* On ne compose pas avec sa conscience," she observes 
loftily, '* et nul respect humain doit empecher de con- 
damner formellement ce qui est vicieux " ; yet when 
it becomes a personal question, she is anxious to point 
out that indulgence should find a place. It is un- 
doubtedly good doctrine, but, like others, capable of 
abuse, and, carried out, explains much discrepancy 
between a creed and a life. 

In later years the relations between guardian and 



Xtfe of Xord £^war^ f ft3®erald 205 

pupil underwent various vicissitudes, and on one 
occasion the first regretfully observes, throwing the 
blame, somewhat strangely, upon political convulsions, 
that it had taken two revolutions to prevent Pamela 
from fulfilling aU the promise of her youth. For the 
present, however, she had no fault to find with her. 
She was under the erroneous impression, which, one 
may be sure, the FitzGeralds were at no pains to 
disturb, ,that the visit to Hamburg had been under- 
taken with the sole object of effecting a meeting with 
herself; and gratification at such a proof of devotion, 
offered, moreover, at a time when Pamela was not in 
a condition favourable to travelling, may well have 
contributed to enhance the affection with which she 
r^^arded her. Lord Edward, too, comes in for his 
full share of praise. In contrasting the conduct of 
both husband and wife with that of others from whom 
gratitude might likewise have been expected, she 
observes that, knowing Pamela's heavenly soul, she 
had felt no surprise at her behaviour; but to Lord 
Edward's constant kindness she pays an enthusiastic 
tribute. 

While Pamela and her former guardian were enjoy- 
ing each other's society, the two colleagues were 
busily engaged in pursuing the objects of their 
political mission, and negotiations were being carried 
on through Reinhard with the French Directory. 
The results, however, were not commensurate with the 
expectations which had been indulged, and were neither 
satisfactory nor decisive. Furthermore, while Reinhard 



«o6 StftoClMOaMMKb 

entertuned doubts of the fitneat of Laid EdMord iat 
the ptrthe had been chosen to fill, the ddqgMes had in' 
return concaved mi^vings as to die tr usmwlM Mtta of 
the minister himsdf. Whether ornot sodi a s us pkkMi 
of bad faith was wdl founded, which seems uaHkdjry 
the object of it can scarcdf be acquitted of aolne 
culpable carelessness, since the Eng^sh Govemniedt 
was furnished by its own consul at Ibmbufg w^ 
copies of certun letters addressed by Reinhard to the 
French Minister, De La Croix. It was, at aD evefita^ 
decided by the Irish envoys to proceed to Bade, and 
to conduct their further negotiations from that plaoe— 
a plan which they accordingly carried out, Pamda akme 
of the party remaining behind in the care of Madame 
de Genlis at Hamburg, where shordy afbrwards her 
little daughter and namechild, Pkmela, was bom. 

Lord Edward and his companion meanwhile spent 
a month at Basle ; after which, arriving at the 
conclusion that it was of importance that personal 
communication should be established between them- 
selves and the French General, Hoche, to whom the 
command of the expedition to Ireland was to be en- 
trusted, they determined to proceed to Paris itself. 
The French Government, however, had its own objec- 
tions to oppose to the plan, showing itself unwilling, 
in view of Lord Edward's connection, through his 
marriage, with the Orleans family, to treat with him 
at headquarters. Ultimately the capital was visited 
by neither delegate, O'Connor having instead an 
interview elsewhere, with " a person high in the confi- 



Xffe of Xord £&ward f ft3®erald 207 

dence of the Directory," while Lord Edward returned 
alone to rejoin Pamela at Hamburg. 

It was on this return journey from Basle that an 
incident occurred which gives singular corroboration 
to the criticisms made by Reinhard, and bears witness 
to the absolute unfitness of the subject of them to 
be entrusted with the conduct of a conspiracy. 

Chancing to have, as his travelling-companion for 
a part of the journey, a lady between whom and one 
of Mr. Pitt's colleagues there had in former times 
existed some connection, the young Irishman — in 
ignorance, of course, of this circumstance — allowed 
himself to be led into communicating to her, with his 
accustomed frankness, not only his own views and 
opinions concerning political questions, but was so 
strangely incautious as to permit his fellow-traveller to 
obtain a clue as to the objects of his present mission, 
aU of which information she naturally forwarded without 
delay to her friend in the Government. 

It was one of those indiscretions — almost incredible, 
when the circumstances are taken into account — which 
justified a friend of Fox's, meeting Grattan a year 
later, on the occasion of the trial of Arthur O'Connor, 
in observing to the Irishman that if he, the speaker, 
were to rebel, it would not be in company with 
Grattan's countrymen, " for, by God, they are the 
worst rebels I ever heard of ! " 

Whether or not, as a general indictment, the charge 
was true, or whether, at any rate, the Irish might 
not have exhibited in the field such counterbalancing 



3o8 xtfe or Xord SbwBtb #tt5<BenU5 

gifts as to vindicate their character in this respect, 
there can be no doubt that in regard to some 
not unimportant qualifications for rebellion Fox*s 
friend was right. In the matter of preparation and 
preliminaries they combined with extraordinary energy 
and zeal, and with the possession, to an uncommon 
degree, of the power of organisation, an equally 
astonishing lack of some of the qualities most necessary 
to carr)- an enterprise of the kind to a successful 
issue ; and in such qualities — the qualities of the 
conspirator — none was more deficient than the man 
who was to conduct it. 

At Paris, meanwhile, General Hoche was giving 
evidence of a discretion which presents a marked 
contrast to Lord Edward's reckless neglect of the 
commonest precautions. 

Wolfe Tone's first meeting with the General who 
was expected to play so important a part in Irish 
affairs took place in July, when a "very handsome, 
well-niavie youiiL: fellow " — they were all young together 
in those J»ays, from Napoleon downwards, and the 
veteran among French generals only counted some 
si\-and thirty years —accosted him with the remark: 
*' \'()us etes le citoyen Smith ?" 
'" I thought," ol^serves Tone, '* he was a chef de 
burciiu^ arul replied, * Oui, citoyen, je m'appelle Smith.' 
'' ' \'ous vous appele/ aussi, je crois, Wolfe Tone ?* 
** I replied : ' Oui, citoyen, c'est mon veritable nom/ 
''* l\h l)ien,' replied he, * je suis le General Hoche/" 
len (lays later Hoche, whom Tone, now chef de 



!I4fe of %ovb £&ward f ftsOeralb 209 

brigade and soon to be nominated Adjutant-General, 
was visiting in bed, took the opportunity of sounding 
the Irishman on the subject of the two delegates who 
were already in communication with his Government, 
carefully avoiding any reference to the n^otiations 
which were in progress, and giving no indication 
of any personal acquaintance on his own part with 
their views and intentions, 

" Hoche asked me," relates Tone, " did I know 
Arthur 0'G>nnor ? I replied that I did, and that 
I entertained the highest opinions of his talents, 
principles, and patriotism, ... * Well,* said he, * will 
he join us ? * I answered I hoped, as he was fonciire-- 
ment IrlandaiSy that he undoubtedly would/' 

Hoche then proceeded, still with the same caution, 
to make further enquiries. There was a lord, he 
observed tentatively, in Tone's country — the son of 
a duke — ^was he not likewise a patriot ? After a 
moment's bewilderment his visitor recognised in the 
description Lord Edward FitzGerald — the fact of even 
that momentary bewilderment on his part pointing 
to the recent character of Lord Edward's prominence 
in the movement — and "gave Hoche a very good 
account of him." 

What came of this summer's work, of Tone's 
intrigues at Paris, of the mission of Lord Edward 
and O'Connor, and of the attempt of the French 
Republic to further the cause of Irish liberty, is too 
well known to need more than . a brief summary here. 

On December 15 th, after manifold delays, a French 

14 



2IO Xife of Xord £t>warb f fts^^etaO) 

fleet actually set sail, with the object of effecting the 
deliverance of the Irish people. If the Directory had 
been slow in arriving at a decision, now that the 
enterprise was actually undertaken, it was done on 
no niggardly scale. Not less than seventeen sail of 
the line, thirteen frigates, and the same number of 
transports set out from Brest, to fulfil the engage- 
ments of the French Government. Everything 
promised success : the coasts of Ireland were strangely 
undefended ; no troops were at hand to repel the 
foreign allies, should they effect a landing ; over large 
portions of the country the population was in a 
condition already bordering upon open resistance ; the 
Habeas Corpus Act had been suspended two months 
earlier, and the people, delivered over to a military 
despotism of unexampled severity, were ripe for 
revolt. All seemed to presage an easy triumph. 
But the stars in their courses fought against the 
cause of Irish liberty. 

On the very night the squadron set sail from Brest 
one ship struck on the rocks and was lost. By a 
more fatal disaster the Fraternitey the vessel which, 
by strange mismanagement, carried on board both 
Admiral and General-in-Chief, was separated from 
the remainder of the fleet ; and when at length the 
squadron was permitted by storm, fog, and tempest to 
reach Bantry Bay, it was found that it only counted 
sixteen sail instead of the forty-three it had numbered 
at starting, and that what remained of it carried no 
more than 6,500 troops. 



life or Xocd £^warl) ftt30ecai5 211 

Tone, eating his heart oat on boaxd one of the 
ships which lay off the Irish coast, was in fitvour, 
in spite of the disasters which had bcfidlen the ex- 
pedition, of attempting to effect a landing, trusting 
to the native population to recruit the invadii^ 
forces. In the absence, however, of the OHnmander* 
in-Chief more prudent counsds won the day ; and 
after the remnant of the fleet had been <moe more 
scattered by the winds, it was determined to set sail 
and to return to Brest. 

Thus ended the first attempt, upon whidi so many 
hopes had been built, to establish freedom on the 
French pattern in Ireland. 



CHAPTER XIV 

1797 

Effects of the French Fmiluxe— United Irithmen and Pkrli»- 
mentary Opposition — Attitude of Grattan — ^Lord Casde- 
leagh — Govenunent Brutality — Lord Moira'« Denttada- 
tion — Lord Edward and his Family — Charge against biai 
— Meets a French Envoy in London — Insurrectionaiy 
Projects. 

THE disastrous failure of the French expedition 
took effect in various ways upon public o[nnion 

in Ireland, and in more quarters than one the whole 
affair gave cause for reflection. 

Even to some of the more ardent Republican 
spirits, as well as to those by whom the invocation 
of foreign aid had always been looked upon as an 
unwelcome though necessary expedient, the unexpected 
strength of the French armament may have suggested 
a doubt whether the aims and intentions of those 
by whom it had been despatched had been so wholly 
disinterested as they had been represented. A 
suspicion of the possible existence of other objects 
on the part of their allies besides those for which 
the expedition had been ostensibly equipped may 
reasonably have been aroused. 



%ttc of Xor& £5warb fttiOctaXb 213 

However that might be, it was dear that the 
collapse of the enterprise had incalculably lessened^ 
or at least delayed, the chances of a successful appeal 
to force as a means of putting an end to the systetai 
of oppression of which the unhappy people were the 
victims. Under these circumstances the United Irish- 
men, with whom Lord Edward must be for the future 
identified, intimated their desire, in the spring of 
1797, to confer with the leaders of the Parliamentary 
Opposition, together with their readiness to arrive at 
an understanding pledging themselves and those with 
whom they acted to accept a moderate measure of 
reform. 

It was an opportunity which, had the temper of 
the Government been other than it was, might have 
changed the face of Irish politics, and disappointment 
and hope might have joined hands to effect a genuine 
reconciliation. There can be no doubt that the more 
moderate men amongst the party were sincere in 
their desire to make conditional peace with the 
Government Emmet afterwards declared that, had 
their overtures been accepted, the Executive Directory 
of the United Irish Association would have sent to 
inform the French authorities that the difference be- 
tween the people and the Government was adjusted, 
and to decline a second invasion. 

On Grattan rests the responsibility of having, so 
far as the Parliamentary Opposition was concerned, 
declined to accept the advances made, and of having 
thrown the weight of his influence into the scales 



a 14 Xtfe Of Xorb E^warb fmOccOb 

against the proposed step. Always adverse to the 
extreme section of the National party, he now declined 
to meet them, arguing that, while such a proceeding 
would probably be productive of no good result, 
he and his friends would be placed in an embarrass- 
ing situation. 

He may have been right in both portions ; yet 
it should never be forgotten that from the United 
Irishmen, hot-headed and violent as was the character 
they bore, came the rejected overtures of condliation. 

In order to understand the refusal of such a man 
as Grattan, in the desperate condition of the country, 
to make so much as an attempt at co-operation, it 
is necessary to bear in mind not only his conviction 
of the absolute hopelessness of any endeavour to 
move the Government from the course they were 
pursuing, but also his rooted distrust of the leaders 
with whom it was a question of forming an alliance. 

There is something tragic, which leaves no room 
for reproach, even if it is impossible not to see in 
it cause for regret, in the attitude of the men of 
whom Grattan was the most distinguished representative. 
Loyal, true, and upright, they had given their lives, 
and had given them in vain, to further what they 
conceived to be the best interests of their country. 
Now, defeated on all hands, they were forced to 
look on, an isolated and helpless group, and to watch 
the people they had done their best to serve led, 
as they believed, to destruction by other and less 
experienced guides. 



Xtfe of Xor& E5war& f ttjOetalb 315 

** Alas ! all the world is mad," wrote Lord Charlemont 
about this very time, ** and unfortunately strait-waist- 
coats are not yet in fashion." And again : " My advice 
has been lavished on both parties with equally ill 
success. . . . Would to Heaven it had been other- 
wise ; but, spurred on by destiny, we seem on all hands 
to run a rapid course towards a fHghtful precipice. 
But it is criminal to despair of one*s country ; I will 
endeavour yet to hope." 

It is but a feeble hope which is kept alive by the 
consciousness that despair is a crime. 

The view he imagined would have been taken 
by his father of the United Irishmen is summarised^ 
a little brutally, by Grattan's son — namely, that they 
were ^^a pack of blockheads who would surely get 
themselves hanged, and should be all put in the 
pillory for their mischief and nonsense." Grattan 
knew but little of the individuals who composed the 
party, and of some of them a more intimate knowledge 
might have modified the rough-and-ready judgment 
attributed to him. " He did not associate with them/' 
says the same authority ; •* they kept clear of him — 
they feared him, and certainly did not like him, . , . 
He considered their proceedings not only mischievous 
but ridiculous." 

And yet, holding this opinion of the men who 
were rebels, it is curious to *tudy some significant 
sentences which occur in an explanation given, twenty 
years later, by the great Irish leader of the reasons for 
the course he pursued in withdrawing from Parliament 



ai6 X4te Of Xorb E^wat^ flts^euXb 

— a course pressed upon him, as well as upon 
George Ponsonby, by a deputation of which Lord 
Edward was one. 

"The reason why we seceded," he ezpkdned, in 
the year 1 8 1 7, '^ was that we did not approve of the 
conduct of the United men, and we could not approve 
of the conduct of the Government," and feared to 
encourage the former by making s[)eeches against the 
latter. ... ^' It was not necessary/' he went on, 
speaking of the Government of the day, ^*fbr me to 
apologise for not having joined them. It might be 
necessary, perhaps, to offer some reason to posterity 
why 1 had not joined the rebels. I would do neither. 
The one was a rebel to his king, the other to his 
country. In the conscientious sense of the word rcM 
there should have been a gallows for the rebel, and 
there should have been a gallows for the minister. 
Men will be more blamed in histor)' for having joined 
the Government than they would if they had joined 
the rebels/* *' The question men should have asked," 
he once sjiid, speaking of those unfortunate brothers, 
the two Sheares, who walked hand in hand to the 
scaffold and so died — ** the question men should 
have asked was not, * Why was Mr. Sheares on the 
gallows ? ' but, * Why was not Lord Clare along 
with him ? ' '' 

Others besides Grattan, looking back with the 
melancholy wisdom time and experience had taught, 
were not disposed to view those who had resorted 
to physical force altogether in the same light 



Xife of Xorb £&warb f ttsOeralb 217 

as they had viewed them at the time. Valentine 
Lawless, afterwards Lord Cloncurrjr, has left it upon 
record that, though he had dissented at the time from 
Lord Edward's opinion that the only hope of efFecting 
the reforms desired by both the friends alike lay in 
separation, half a century of vain watching for signs 
of regeneration had led him to doubt his early con- 
clusions, and to ask himself, ''Was Lord Edward 
right or wrong in his conviction ? " 

Lord Holland, too, cousin to the FitzGeralds, but 
an Englishman, and blinded by no national prejudice, 
when expressing, twenty-six years later, his deliberate 
judgment upon the principles for which Lord Edward 
had suffered, observed that *'he who thinks that a 
man can be even excused in such circumstances " — 
the condition of Ireland in 1798 — ** by any con- 
sideration than that of despair from opposing a 
pretended Government by force, seems to me to 
sanction a principle which would secure immunity 
to the greatest of all human delinquents, or at 
least to them who produce the greatest misery among 
mankind." 

It may be well for any one inclined to look upon 
the rebels of 1798 as mad and wicked incendiaries, 
bent upon plunging their country, for purposes of 
their own, into bloodshed and misery, to ponder 
these utterances, spoken with calm deliberation at 
a date when time had cleared away the mists of 
passion and prejudice which obsau-e men's vision at a 
period of great national convulsion. 



2is xifc of Xor& £dwar& f ftjOeralb 

In the summer of 1797 a new and important 
addition had been made to the official staff at the 
Castle in the person of a young man, some six years 
younger than Lord Edward himself, but destined, 
in spite of his youth, to play a considerable part in 
the history of Ireland during the ensuing years. This 
was Robert Stewart, lately become, by his father's 
elevation to an earldom, Viscount Casdereagh, who 
in the month of July was not only made Keeper of 
the Privy Seal, but was entrusted provisionally with 
the performance of the duties belonging to the office 
of Chief Secretary — a post to which he was afterwards 
appointed upon the resignation of Mr, Pelham, at 
this time absent in England. 

Lord Castlcreagh's was a strong, and in some 
resjxicts an interesting, personality. He possessed 
talent, industry, perseverance, and determination. To 
judge by his portrait, he avided a singular beauty of 
feature to his more substantial gifts, and his courtesy 
was, if cold, unfailing. As evidence of his charm of 
manner and bearing, it is worth while to quote a 
witness as unlikely to have been biassed in his favour 
as Charles Teeling, the United Irishman, who, describing 
a visit he had received in prison from Casdereagh — 
by whom he had been arrested in person — dwells 
upon the fascination of his manners, his engaging 
address, and his attractiveness and grace. 

Turning from his personal to his political aspect, 
his views at his entry upon public life seem to have 
borne the stamp of an inconsistency often denoting 



Xtfe of Xor& E5wat& f itsOeralb 219 

the influence of personal choice, as distinguished from 
the homogeneous character of a complete set of 
opinions adopted ready made, as the equipment of 
the member of a party, or the heritage of a family 
tradition. He had supported the Act of 1793 by 
which the franchise was extended to Catholic free- 
holders ; but his desire for Parliamentary reform had 
stopped short at that point. He was a Tory, but 
exempt from the apprehensions of his party with 
regard to the effect of the revolution upon France. 
When, later on, he flung himself body and soul 
into the endeavour to carry the Union, he desired that 
the measure should be accompanied or followed by 
one of Catholic emancipation. 

Comparing his position, at this stage of his career, 
with that of Lord Edward, their antecedents were 
not without points in common. Both were Irish, 
both well born — the Stewarts being an influential 
family of County Down — both were soldiers, both 
had entered upon political life at the earliest age 
possible, Castlereagh having been put forward, before 
he had completed his twenty-first year, by the in- 
dependent freeholders of his county in opposition 
to Lord Downshire's nominee. Castlereagh, as well 
as Lord Edward, had at the outset voted for the 
most part with the Opposition. Though there is no 
definite proof of the fact, they must have had many 
of the same associates, and can scarcely have failed 
to have been personally acquainted. Charles Fitz- 
Gerald, Lord Edward's brother, was a friend of 



220 Xife of Xor6 £&wan> f it30ecaI5 

Castlereagh's, and his aunt Lady Louisa Conolly — 
in contradiction to the robust hatred cherished by her 
sister Lady Sarah for the ^^ ignorant, vain, shallow 
Secretary" — had evidently a liking for the young 
man, and full confidence in his high character and 
good intentions. 

Yet, whatever had been the case in the past, the 
two now stood each the most prominent representative 
of hostile camps — the one backed by the whole force 
of the English Government and its resources, financial 
and military ; the other dependent alone for support upon 
the passionate allegiance of the mass of the Irish people. 

it was an unequal struggle. Castlereagh won ; 
living to fill post after post of honour, responsibility, 
and power ; while Lord Edward, within a year, lay 
dead in his prison. Yet the last, living, was idolised, 
and dead, has been ever loved and honoured ; whereas 
" few men," says his biographer, " have been the 
victim of such constant and intense unpopularity " 
as Lord Castlereagh — an unpopularity which has 
followed him to his grave, and is expressed, in brutal 
form, in Byron's epitaph.^ 

Meantime, while the new Chief Secretary was 
being initiated into his duties, things in the country 
were going from bad to worse. ^*They treated the 
people/* Grattan said long afterwards, speaking of the 



' With (Ifath doomed to grapple 
Beneath this cold slab he 
Who lied in the chapel 
Now lies in the Abbey. 



Xife of Xorb £t>war& f ttsOeraU) aai 

military tyranny which prevailed, "not like rebel 
Christians, but like rebel dogs." As an instance of 
the spirit which prevailed and the ferocity of the 
sentimehts indulged among the upper classes with 
r^ard to the disaffected, then and later, it is worth 
while to refer to a paper printed, in September, 1799, 
in the Dublin Magazine. Dealing with the effect pro- 
duced upon the peasantry by the conspicuous exhibition 
of the mutilated remains of their slaughtered comrades, 
the writer quotes the words "of a gentleman who 
seemed to speak the sense of his countrymen" in 
saying that he wished " we had more heads up, if it 
were likely they could again rouse the villains to 
insurrection, for we are fully able to put them down, 
and the more we despatch the better." 

At an earlier date, too, Rochford, determined to set 
fire to a whole quarter in which a crime had been 
committed, declared that it was impossible that an 
innocent person could suffer, for such a person was not 
to be found. 

The peasantry were not, however, without their 
advocates, powerless though they might be ; and Lord 
Moira in particular, from his place in the English 
House of Lords, did not shrink from pointing out the 
results of the policy which was being pursued. 

On November 27th, 1 797, he made a solemn arraign- 
ment of the whole system at work, and after describing 
the horrors of which his country was the scene — the 
tortures inflicted, the half-hangings on mere suspicion, 
the burning of houses, and other outrages daily 



222 %itc Of lorb £t>warb fftsOendd 

perpetrated with complete immunity — ^'*the rack, 
indeed," he allowed bitterly, comparing the sufferings 
of the Irish with those of the victims of the Inquisition, 
"was not applied, because, perhaps, it was not at 
hand'* — he proceeded to warn the House that the 
numbers of United Irishmen were on the increase in 
every part of the Kingdom, and to express his con- 
viction that, if the present system were continued, 
Ireland would not remain connected with England for 
another five years. 

He spoke the opinion of the more moderate party 
in Ireland, who were rapidly dissociating themselves 
from any share in responsibility for the proceedings 
of the Government. The FitzGerald connection, in 
especial, whatever differences of opinion they might 
entertain as to the best modes of resistance, were 
unanimous in their repudiation of the policy pursued. 

Lady Sarah Napier, writing in June, 1797, from 
Cclbridge, where she was living close to her sister, 
Lady Louisa Conolly, is explicit on the subject. 
She had never, she says, up to that time believed 
Ireland to be really in a bad way, ** because I 
could not imagine upon w/jat grounds to form the 
reasoning that actuates the Government to urge oh a 
civil war with all their 'power. But since, from some 
unknown cause, // is their plan, I will do them the 
justice to say they have acted uniformly well in it, and 
have nearly succeeded. They force insurrection i tout 
bout de champr ^ 

' Lady Sarah Lennoxes Letters, Vol. II., p. 393. 



Xife of Xort) £^wart> f it56eralt> 223 

A scheme had been set on foot some three years 
earlier for raising a militia, and thereby meeting the 
disafiected portion of the population on their own 
ground. The plan had been cordially taken up by 
the country gentlemen. Lord Edward alluding with 
some coldness to the part played by his brother the 
Duke in the matter. 

" The people do not like it much," he had written 
at the time — *^ that is, the common people and farmers 
— and even though Leinster has it " — he was referring 
in especial to the force raised in County Kildare — " they 
do not thoroughly come into it ; which I am glad of, 
as it shows they begin not to be entirely led by names. 
I am sure, if any person else had taken it, it could not 
have been raised at all/* 

At the present juncture the Duke, disgusted with 
the conduct of the Government, threw up his com- 
mand, his example being followed by his brother- 
in-law Lord Bellamont, and his aunt's husband Mr. 
Conolly ; while Lord Henry FitzGerald, like Grattan, 
his colleague in the representation of the City of 
Dublin, took the step of retiring from Parliament. 

Lord Edward, for his part, had not only declined, 
in the month of July, to seek re-election, on the 
ground that free elections were made impofmiblc by 
the system of martial law then in force, but hail finally, 
with reckless generosity, thrown in his lot, Win future 
and all its promise, with the extreme National party. 

How much or how litde was known or sunpcctcd 
by Lord Edward's relations of the extent to which 



334 Xfte of %ot6 £^lmc^ jfttaOendb 

he had become implicated in revolutionary schemes 
and designs must remain a question. That he should 
have desired to keep those about him, more esp)eciall7 
his mother, in ignorance of facts which would have 
caused them serious disquiet, may readily be believed ; 
whUe it is expressly stated that when visiting London 
on political business, in the year 1797, he carefully 
avoided the society of those most dear to him, lest 
such intercourse should cause them to be credited 
with cognisance of the perilous transactions in which 
he had become involved. 

But while thus taking thought for the safety of 
others after a fashion he never practised where his own 
was concerned, it is difficult to imagine that, open 
and unreserved as he was, to a fault, he should 
have been capable of maintaining a systematic silence 
towards those nearest to him in blood and affection, 
with whom his terms had been those of unlimited 
confuicncc, with regard to the objects and aims which 
hail become the main interest of his life and the govern- 
ing motive of his actions. It is at any rate clear — to 
anticipate events for a moment — that enough was 
known to Mr. Ogilvie of the relations of his stepson 
with the party of revolution to bring him over 
to Dublin in the spring of 1798, for the purpose of 
making a last effort to detach him from his dangerous 
associates, and to prevail upon him, if possible, to 
quit the country. 

Mr. Ogilvie, on this occasion, had an interview with 
the Chancellor. Lord Clare evinced a desire, evidently 



Xffe of Xor5 £^war5 f it5(^ecal5 335 

sincere at the moment, to save from the consequences 
of his rashness a conspirator who not only possessed 
to so remarkable a degree the affections of the people, 
but was also connected by birth and blood with persons 
for whom he himself entertained a genuine regard. 

** For God's sake,** he urged, " get this young man 
out of the country. The ports shall be thrown open 
to you, and no hindrance offered.** 

It was not Mr. Ogilvie*s fault that the proffered 
opportunity of evasion was not embraced. He asked 
no better than to get his hot-headed stepson out of 
the country ; but his well-intentioned intervention was, 
as might have been expected, fruitless. Lord Edward 
was of all men the least likely to leave his comrades in 
the lurch. If Mr. Ogilvie had ever indeed hoped to 
succeed in his endeavour, the circumstances under 
which the meeting of the two took place must have 
convinced him of the futility of any such expectation. 
At the very moment when his stepfather came to press 
upon Lord Edward the expediency of taking advantage 
of the facilities Lord Clare was ready to afford him 
for gaining a place of safety, a meeting of the heads of 
the United Society was taking place in his house. It 
was from assisting at their deliberations that he came 
out to receive his visitor, and to demonstrate to him, 
by an argument which he must have known Mr. 
Ogilvie would find himself unable to refute, that 
discussion was useless, and that it was impossible that 
he should pursue the proposed course. 

" It is out of the question,** he said ; " I am too 

15 



piB^gea ID mcsc Mm id oe ww id wiUMiiiir 



Aci'fptuig, howefcpy the wiiifly of Ui atloSty 9ui 
of the Govcnynent tkrt lie thould qdt Ifdaad tt 
proof miBficut dMI impvu^gt ipcn Mt tt Id the 
results of Us c wM MTfin p with the oticBM 
futy^ the uKicdiiSt^ di^Miiycd uf osrtsni of 
rdations^ when the Ucm fiuBf ttH and the 
was issued fer his sppwhrnaion, widi fcgjud to any 
participation on his part in actnal revohidonafj dei^ns^ 
affords evidence that thef had remained ignorant up 
to the last of the perilous extent to which he had 
become compromised. It may be that affection, the 
desire to spare those he loyed the amdety which an 
acquaintance with the true state of aflSurs would have 
caused them, had achieved what both fear and prudence 
had failed to effect; and had, in a measure at least, 
scaled his lips. At any rate, we read in a lettw from 
Mr. Ogilvie after the catastrophe that his wife was 
supported by her confidence in her son's " not deserving 
anything by word or deed " ; while Lady Sarah Napier, 
describing an interview with a visitor, wrote, " I said 
I was sure he was innocent, though he had made no 
secret of his opinions, but that nobody dreaded a 
revolution more, from the goodness of his heart." 

That I«ord Edward might dread a revolution was 
possible. It was also more than possible that he might 
rcgttnl it AS the lesser of two evils. It is, at any rate, 
certain that, with the cognisance of his friends or with- 
out it, he had been busily preparing one. 



Xife of Xotb £^wart> jftt56eralt> 227 

In returning to the history of these preparations 
it is necessary to touch upon an accusation which, 
upon the evidence supplied by two informers, has 
been brought against Lord Edward — that, namely, of 
complicity in counsels including assassination amongst 
the methods to be employed against the enemy. It 
is a charge wholly escaped by few revolutionists ; and 
the evidence upon which it rests in the present case 
may be taken for what it is worth. 

During the summer of 1797 there had appeared in 
Dublin — an almost inevitable feature of the times — a 
secretly printed newspaper, called the Union Star. 
It not only constituted itself an advocate of assassina- 
tion, but designated certain persons in particular as 
fit objects for vengeance. On his own confession, 
a man named Cox was sole owner, editor, and printer 
of this paper. In the month of December Cox 
turned informer, and a conversation is on record in 
which he stated to the Under-Secretary, Cooke, that 
Lord Edward and Arthur O'Connor had been frequently 
in his company, being cognisant of his connection 
with the Suir^ the inference intended to be drawn 
being of course their approval of the methods 
advocated by it. 

To this statement O'Connor, on his own behalf, 
gave an explicit denial, asserting that the Star had 
been set up during one of his own terms of 
imprisonment ; that he had remonstrated with Cox ; 
and that it had been by his advice that the latter had 
given himself up to Government. 



tt8 %Ht of %oxb iBbwaxb flts^eaVb 

By the time that the aflair was afted Lord 
Edward was probably not in a position to disprove 
any calumny. But the evidence of Cox — ^further 
declared to be " angry with the leaders of die United 
Irishmen*' — will be scarcely accepted as wdghing 
heavily in the balances against the witness borne 
both by Lord Edward's own character and by diose 
who knew him best as to the spirit in which he 
carried on the struggle. 

The second instance of a corresponding charge is 
to be found in a letter written at the end of diis same 
year by Lord Camden to Mr. Pelham. McNally, 
the informer, is there quoted as declaring that the 
moderate party had carried their point, and that the 
intended proscription had been abandoned ; adding 
that O'Connor, Lord Edward, and McNevin had 
been the advocates of assassination, the rest of 
moderate measures. 

That it was ever Lord Edward's custom to favour 
the bolder policy, whatever might be the particular 
question at issue, is clear. It will also be seen that 
when, in the course of this year, a scheme was in 
contemplation having for its object the capture of 
the Castle and the barracks, he had argued in favour 
of its adoption. In the same way, at a later date, 
he supported the daring project of attacking the 
House of Lords at the moment when the peers were 
to be assembled in it, on the occasion of the trial of 
Lord Kingston. On the hypothesis, therefore, that the 
scheme alluded to by the informer was of a similar 



%ac of Xocd iB6mtaX> fttsOecald 119 

natnre to diese» and one by which a blow would have 
been directed at the heads ci the Government, it is 
likeljr enough to have commended itself to him ; nor 
is it probaUe that he would have experienced more 
scruple in making himsdf master of the persons 
of the Government offidals dian was felt by the 
authorities themselves with regard to the wholesale 
arrests of the insurrectionary Directory. Assassination, 
however, is a wholly different matter ; and those 
afquaintcH with Lord Edward FitzGerald's life and 
character wiU appraise the testimony which places him 
amongst its advocates at its just worth. With this 
notice of the accusation brou^t against him and the 
evidence by which it is si^ported, the subject may 
be dismissed. 

Amongst the preparations for a rising now being 
actively carried on, negotiation with France, with a 
view to securing her co-operation, was naturally an 
item of the last impcxtance. As early as the spring 
of 1797 a Dublin solicitor named Lewines had been 
accordingly sent to Paris as the accredited agent of the 
United Irish party. In May a further move took 
place. The Republic had despatched an emissary of 
its own, with orders to visit Ireland, with the object of 
obtaining information on the spot as to the true condition 
of the country. Owing, however, to the difficulty of 
obtaining the necessary passports, it was found im- 
possible for the envoy to carry out his instructions, or 
to proceed further than London. Under these circum- 
stances Lord Edward was deputed to meet him there. 



230 Xtfe of Xort) BDwarft jfft50etaR» 

as the authority best qualified to supply the de^red 
information as to the military organisation and resources 
of the Society of which he was by this time one of the 
recognised and accredited chiefs. 

The information he had to impart, coloured by 
his sanguine spirit, must have been encouraging enough, 
so far as numbers were concerned. So extensive were 
the military preparations that it was computed that 
in Ulster alone no less than one hundred thousand men 
were enrolled and regimented. Such was the eagerness 
of these northern recruits to precipitate an appeal to 
arms that it was only by the authority of the leaders 
of the whole Society that they were prevailed upon 
to delay taking action till the arrival of the expected 
succours from France, which it was hoped would 
supply the experience and skill in which the Irish 
were, in spite of their ardour, lamentably lacking. 
In all parts of the country, too, as Lord Moira bore 
witness, the people, rendered desperate by their suf- 
ferings, were swelling the ranks of the Union. Had 
it been possible, at this time, when the enthusiasm of 
the people was at fever height and England embarrassed 
by foreign foes and mutinies at home — had it been 
possible to strike then, the history of the rebellion 
might have been a different one. But it was not to 
be ; and in the summer an opportunity was allowed 
to slip which was not likely again to present itself. 

A plan of insurrection had been prepared, mainly 
by the Ulster leaders, to which several hundred of 
the troops quartered in Dublin were ready to lend 



life of Xort) £^wart> f it3<^tal^ 231 

their co-operation ; while a deputation from the militias 
of Clare, Kilkenny, and Kildare had made, in the 
name of their respective regiments, the offer already 
mentioned, to seize the barracks and the Castle. It 
was a bold scheme, and, carried out, might have 
wholly changed the face of affairs ; but, in spite of 
Lord Edward's advocacy, the Dublin Ejcecutive decided 
against its adoption, and the enterprise was relinquished, 
to the bitter regret of those who had seen in it 
Ireland's best chance of success. **It seems to me," 
said Tone, writing at Paris, ** to have been such an 
occasion missed as we can hardly ever see return." 

He might well say so. It never did return. 
Meantime, the year 1797 drew towards its close, and 
no blow had been struck. But before the beginning 
of 1798 Lord Edward had made a new and disastrous 
acquaintance. 



CHAPTER XV 

bish Informers—*' Battalion of Testimony "—Leonard licNally 
—Thomas Reynolds — Meeting between Reynoldsaod Lord 
Edward— Reynolds and Neilson — Cunan's Invective. 

IT was an evil day for Lord Edward — an evil day 
for his party as well — when, some time in the 
November of 1 797, he met, on the steps of the Four 
Courts, a gentleman named Thomas Reynolds, a United 
Irishman little known at the time, but who quickly 
rose to an unenviable notoriety, and will long live in 
the memory of his countrymen as the betrayer of 
his party and his chief. 

The figure of the informer is one which, like a 
shabby and sordid Mcphistophelcs, is never long absent 
from the scene of Irish politics. His trade was 
sedulously fostered and encouraged by the English 
system of Government, and to it may be traced much 
of the alleged sympathy with crime and genuine 
reluctance to lend a hand in bringing the criminal to 
justice which has been so often used as a reproach 
against the Irish people. '* The police are paid to 
catch you, and well paid^' a priest is said to have told 
a member of his flock who, weary of the life of a 

332 



life of Xor5 £t>wart> f it5(BetaI6 233 

hunted man, was contemplating the surrender of 
himself into the hands of the law. ** The informer 
is bribed to track 70U down, and well bribed^** he 
might have added with equal truth. It is not 
surprising that a people noted for its instincts of 
generosity should have preferred to leave the work of 
Government to be performed by its paid instruments, 
and should have shrunk from so much as the semblance 
of participation in the traffic. 

The indiscriminate horror entertained with r^^ard 
to those, whether innocent or guilty, who were 
convicted of co-operation with the natural enemies 
of their race — unfortunately identified in the eyes 
of the people with the administration that went 
by he name of justice — is curiously and signally 
illustrated by an incident which took place about this 
time. Two sisters named Kennedy, mere children of 
fourteen and fifteen years old, and supposed to be 
heiresses, were carried off from their home by a gang 
of ruffians, to two of whom they were forcibly married. 
When, some weeks later, the men were made prisoners 
and brought to trial, the unfortunate girls were induced 
to consent to bear witness against them, chiefly, as 
it appears, in revenge for a brutal blow bestowed upon 
one of them by her captor. The result of the trial 
was the hanging of the men and the pensioning of 
their victims. But so passionately opposed was public 
sentiment, even in such an instance as this, to the 
conduct of the approver, that demonstrations of hostility 
greeted the unhappy sisters wherever they ventured 



234 life of Xort) £t>wart> f it5(Beralt> 

to show their faces ; that when they subsequently 
married, the misfortunes of the one were r^arded bjr 
the people in the light of a judgment upon her ; and* 
stranger still, the husband of the other was infected 
to such a degree by the popular superstition that he 
imagined himself haunted by the spectre of his dead 
rival, and never dared to sleep without a lig^t in 
his room. 

Of the brutality engendered by the loathing, whole- 
some in its origin, of the trade, an example is given in 
a story told by an aged lady, Mrs. O'Byrne, who 
remembered throughout life — ^as well she might — 
being taken as a child, by the servant to whose care 
she had been entrusted, to the Anatomical Museum 
of Trinity College, where she witnessed a perfomuuice 
consisting of a dance, executed by means of a systeni 
of pulleys, by the skeleton of the informer " Jemmy 
O'Brien." The husband of the woman who took her 
little charge to this ghastly entertainment had, it 
subsequently transpired, been done to death by 
O'Brien, afterwards himself hanged for murder, and 
she took a grim pleasure in the show. 

Another, and even more singular, instance of the 
feeling with which the class was regarded, lasting down 
almost to our own day and shared by the servants of 
their employers, is furnished by the fact that it was 
found necessary at the '^Informers' Home," as it was 
popularly called — an institution kept up by Govern- 
ment, and said to be a relic of the " Battalion of 
Testimony" — to lodge the police in charge of the 



Xife of Xord £^war5 f ft5(^ral5 235 

place in a hut apart, the men objecting to the de- 
gradation of living under the same roof as those they 
were set to guard. 

Taking into account this condition of public senti- 
ment, it may be imagined that the position of the paid 
political spy was not without its disadvantages, and 
that by the more timorous among the body their wages 
were not altogether lightly earned. It was not every 
villain who was so constituted as to be able to ply his 
craft with the sang-froid of the celebrated barrister 
McNally, one of the most remarkable figures of the 
time, to whom must be allowed the honour of having 
carried the art of treachery to its highest point of 
perfection ; who could move even Curran to tears by 
his eloquence on behalf of one of the very men he had 
betrayed ; who, having first sold Emmet and then 
acted as his counsel in court, could visit him in prison 
on the day of his execution, and piously console him 
with the prospect of his approaching meeting with his 
mother in another world ; and who, finally, carried on 
his course of deception with unrivalled success till the 
day of his death, in 1820, when, to crown all, having 
passed for a Protestant in life, he squared his accounts 
with Heaven by calling in a priest and receiving from 
him the sacraments of the Church.^ 

For such a man one cannot but feel that there was 
actual enjoyment in the exercise of his art. But 
other professors of it were not equally fortunate, 

> The younger Curran, in his Life of his father, pays an enthusiastic 
tribute to this friend of forty-three years. 



236 tAXc Of Xorb Edward fttjOecald 

and even among the members of the Battalion of 
Testimony penitents were to be found. Thus an 
Englishman of the name of Bird^ who had been 
the means of committing a number of obnoxious 
persons to prison, sickened of his trade, threw it 
up in disgust, and published an account of his trans- 
actions with the Castle ; while Newell, another of die 
brotherhood, in a curious letter to his employer, the 
Under-Secretary, Cooke, accused him, not without 
dramatic skill, of his moral ruin. 

" Though I cannot deny being a villsdn,'* he said, 
"I hope clearly to prove that I had the honour of 
being made one by you." 

Returning to Mr. Thomas Reynolds, it would not 
appear that this gentleman, at any rate at first, found 
the branch of business in which he had engaged alto- 
gether to his liking. He was a young man of twenty- 
six at the time of his meeting with Lord Edward. 
Brought up by the Jesuits, he had carried on the 
trade of a silk manufacturer in Dublin. Lately, by 
means of some land leased — it is said on very 
favourable terms — from the Duke of Leinster, a distant 
connection on his mother's side, he had attained to 
the position of a country gendeman in the county 
of Kildare. 

His political antecedents were, from the popular 
point of view, unimpeachable. He had been a 
member of the Catholic Committee, had represented 
Dublin in the Catholic Convention of 1792, and had 
recently been initiated into the Society of United 



life of Xott) £6wart> fftjOeraR) 337 

Ifishmen, dioug^, if his son is to be credited, in 
ignorance of its revolutionary character. He was also 
— 4i fiirther guarantee — married to the sister-in-law of' 
Wolfe Tone. 

This was the man who — also on his son's authority — 
was in 1798 hailed as the saviour of his country, and 
courted and caressed by all who were not actuaUy 
engaged in the rebellion. Wealth and honours were 
voted to him ; but, satisfied with having done his duty, 
he declined them all ; and, honourable and upright 
public servant as he was, found himself at a later date 
shaken off and discountenanced by the very persons^ 
with one or two exceptions, by whom he had been 
employed ; retiring finally to France, there to find 
consolation for the ingratitude of the great in a small 
number of friends. 

Thus far Mr. Thomas Reynolds, junior, fired with 
filial enthusiasm. A less ornate account of his father 
would describe him as, though unquestionably an 
informer, not one of that lowest type to whom treachery 
is a trade by which to make a living, who deliberately 
insinuates himself into the confidence of his comrades 
in order to betray them, and who, to quote Curran*s 
eloquent invective, " measures his value by the coffins 
of his victims, and in the field of evidence appreciates 
his fame as the Indian warrior does in fight — by the 
number of scalps with which he can swell his 
triumphs.'* 

It is true that Moore is inclined to include 
Reynolds in this category, disposing of him in summary 



238 lUfe of Xot^ £{>vnir& fttiOctaXb 

fashion as a worthless member of the conspiracy 
who, pressed for cash, availed himself of this means 
of discharging his debts. It is also undeniable that 
the sum of five hundred guineas was paid over to him 
by Government. But a careful examination of evidence 
tends to make it probable that money was not his 
principal object, and that this particular informer 
belonged to a different grade in the profession. He 
was rather one of those persons who, finding them- 
selves — in the first instance perhaps involuntarily — ^in 
possession of facts they conceive it their duty to make 
known, kck courage to act openly, and having laid the 
foundation of their future career by the initial act 
of giving clandestine information against their com- 
rades, experience the truth of the saying that " ce n^est 
que le premier pas qui coute^^ and continue to court and 
invite the confidence of those they have betrayed, for 
the express purpose of making use of it against 
them. 

When Lord Fxlward met Mr. Reynolds on that ill- 
fated November day, the two were barely acquainted, 
owing, as the younger Reynolds explains, to Lord 
Edward's recent absences from Ireland. Falling in 
with him, however, on the steps of the Four Courts, 
and aware of his reputation as a trustworthy member 
of the Society, the latter entered into conversation 
with the future informer, and before they parted a 
meeting had been arranged, to take place on the 
following day at Reynolds's house. It was then pro- 
posed that he should temporarily fill Lord Edward's 



%AU of Xor& £dwatd jfit^Oetalb 239 

own post, as Colonel of the United Irish Society 
for the Barony of Kilkea and Moon, in which was 
situated the property he had recendy leased from the 
Duke. 

According to Reynolds's evidence, given at a later 
date before the Secret Committee, he did not at first 
take kindly to the arrangement. He furnished the 
Committee with an account of the conversation between 
himself and Lord Edward ; of his own attempts to 
confine it to general subjects, to avoid committing 
himself, and to put Lord Edward off. 

The young leader, it seems, was unwisely pertinacious. 
He assured the informer that he would himself share 
with him every danger, and *• Deponent on this con- 
sented," so the statement runs ; falling, it may be, 
under the charm of his companion, in whom he felt a 
pride, as in some remote manner a kinsman of his own, 
and possibly fired for the moment with some spark of 
contagious enthusiasm. 

He had stiU, however, objections to urge. He did 
not think — so he told Lord Edward, who probably 
knew it far better than he — that the United men 
could stand in battle against the King's troops. One 
may believe that the answer returned by his chief, to 
the effect that, assistance from France being expected, 
some of the Irish would certainly join the foreign 
lines and learn discipline under their allies, was not 
altogether calculated to reassure the timorous conscience 
and uneasy mind of the reluctant recruit, unlikely 
to look forward with the same cheerful anticipation 



240 Xife of %otb £t>warb fttjOenilb 

as his leader to a French invasion. At all events, it 
appears that no definite arrangement was arrived at 
on this occasion, though the interview must have been 
on the whole satisfactory, since at its conclusion 
Lord Edward remarked that there was an honest man 
in the county of Kildare» of whom he gave Reynolds 
the name, and to whom he referred him for further 
instructions as to the duties of his new post 

Reynolds's own honesty, if it had ever had any 
existence except in the imagination of his open-hearted 
chief — so confiding by nature that it must have 
appeared to more astute men a waste of their talents 
to spend them in entrapping him — was not of long 
continuance. For family reasons — ^we are not told 
of what nature — and influenced by consideration for 
the FitzGeralds, represented by Lord Edward, 
Reynolds finally decided upon accepting the oflfered 
post, was In consequence initiated into the pro- 
jects and schemes of the United Irish leaders, and 
learnt, according to his own declaration, for the 
first time, their revolutionary character. ^ A timid 
man, and afraid either to rouse suspicion agsdnst 
himself by severing his connection with the Society, 
or, remaining in it, to co-operate with its designs ; 
entertaining, moreover, scruples of conscience as to 
his duty in the dilemma in which he was placed, he 
selected the middle course of retaining his position, 
but retaining it as a Government agent. 

> It is difficult to reconcile this statement with the account of 
the conversation between Lord Edward and the informer. 



Xife ot Xotd Edward f it^Oetald 341 

His son, it is true, indignantly denies that he 
deliberately obtained information for the purpose of 
betraying it, and instances in disproof of the calumny 
the feet of his fether*s having excused himself from 
attendance at a meeting of the Provincial Committee, 
held in February, 1 798, to which he had been summoned, 
and where he would doubtless have been placed in the 
possession of important fects. But, unfortunately for 
the argument, it is refuted by Reynolds*s own evidence, 
in which he is stated to have informed the Govern- 
ment of the proceedings of this very meeting, " which 
Deponent got from Lord Edward FitzGerald *' — a 
safer method of obtaining information than that of 
personal attendance in Dublin. It is, however, feir to 
say that it was only afrer that meeting that he took 
the step of communicating with the authorities; and 
that it was possibly true that it was done on an un- 
premeditated impulse. It must also be added, in 
justice to a man whose record is black enough 
in any case, that he seems to have been actuated by 
no personal animosities ; that in the first instance 
he had even strangely hoped to have avoided 
the incrimination of individuals ; and that to 
the last he showed an inclination to screen Lord 
Edward. 

He must have possessed talents of his own for his 
particular line of business, though of a different 
character to those of McNally ; for up to the very 
last he possessed the full confidence of his chief; and, 
carrying his life in his hand, he seems to have retained 

16 



242 uuc Of Xocd JE»mat fttsOtaSb 



presence of mind under drcu ma a n ce s wludi m^ht 
well have caused hixn to lose it. A stoiy is told 
by Curran's son, on the authorinr of an eminent Irish 
barrister^ of a midnight meeting in the streets ci 
Dublin between Rejmolds and Neibon, a member oi 
the conspiracy possessed of c ati a o r d inary physical 
strength and an excitability of temperament bordering 
on insanity, of whom more will be heard hereafter. 
On this man some suspicion of the troth had 
glimmered. Forcing the informer to foDow him 
to a dark passage in what were then the liberties of 
Dublin, he presented a pistol at his breast, widi the 
question, 

**What should I do to the villain who could 
insinuate himself into my confidence for the purpose 
of betraying me ? " 

*' You should shoot him through the heart," was 
Reynolds's answer, made with ready eflfrontery. 

The reply, the story goes on to relate, so struck 
his assailant, that, though his suspicions were not 
wholly removed, he let the informer go.* 

Whatever may be the opinion formed of Mr. 
Reynolds and his performances, he must not be refused 
the honour of having provided Curran with the 
opportunity of achieving a signal triumph of eloquence; 

> Tliis anecdote is denied by Reynolds's son, who substitutes ftw 
it one of Iiis own, difTcring rather in the letter than in Uie spirit; 
arrordiiiK to which the informer, charged by Neilson with treachery, 
flung himself upon the accuser with the exclamation, "And dar« you 
say that ? " The testimony of young Reynolds in his father's favour 
has been sliown, for the rest, to be not unimpeachable. 



Xfte of Xord £dwat& f it^Oetald 343 

and this digression — scarcely irrelevant when we 
take into account the part played by the subject of 
it, though behind the scenes, in the closing chapter 
of Lord Edward's life — may fitly be terminated by 
a quotation from the speech in which, like a fly in 
amber, the memory of the traitor is preserved. It 
was in connection with the BiU of Attainder brought, 
after his death, against Lord Edward, that this speech 
was made. 

" I have been asked," said the great orator, " whether 
I have any defensive evidence. . . . Where am I to 
seek it ? I have often of late gone to the dungeons 
of the captive, but never have I gone to the grave 
of the dead ; nor, in truth, have I ever before been 
at the trial of a dead man. I oflFer, therefore, no 
evidence upon this enquiry, against the perilous 
example of which I do protest in the name of the 
dead father whose memory is sought to be dishonoured, 
and of his infant orphans whose bread is sought to 
be taken away. Some observations, but a few, upon 
the evidence of the informer I will make. I do 
believe all he has admitted against himself. I do 
verily believe him in that instance, even though I heard 
him assert it on his oath — by his own confession an 
informer and a bribed informer — a man whom respect- 
able witnesses had sworn in a court of justice upon 
their oath not to be credible on his oath. . . . See, 
therefore, if there be any one assertion to which 
credit can be given, except this — that he has sworn 
and forsworn that he is a traitor, that he has 



CHAPTER XVI 

1798 

Lord Edwaid'i Doom Approodmig— Hts Portndt al tins Date 
— Pertooal Attractioii — DiSarenccM among the Leaden-^ 
Delay of Freodi Aanstance— Arrest of CXGcxmor— His 
Acquittal and Impri sonment — Katiooal Pr ospec ts — 
Reynolds's Treadiery— Arrest of the Committrr, 

SEVENTEEN hundred and nincty-dght— that 
year of disaster — ^was come. The crisis was at 
hand. Lord Edward's doom close upon him. The 
winding-sheet, to the eyes of the seer, would have 
passed his heart and risen around his throat. 

And when I meet thee again, O King, 

That of death hast such sore drouth. 
Except thou turn thee again on the shore, 
The winding-sheet shall have moved once more. 

And covered thine eyes and mouth. 

It was not in Lord Edward's nature, even had he 
foreseen the fate that was awaiting him, to turn aside 
from it. He might be a weak man — in many respects 
he was undoubtedly not a strong one ; but honour 
and loyalty were not weak within him, nor was his 
the want of strength which leads to the betrayal of a 
comrade or a cause. 

845 



246 lite ot %ovb JEbwatb fltsOexaXb 

Evidence has already been quoted to show that, 
almost to the last, the Government, though troubled 
by no scruples with regard to his confederates, would 
gladly have seen themselves relieved from the odium 
attaching to whomsoever should lay hands upon a Fitz- 
Gerald, and would willingly have afibrded him every 
loophole for escape. But no dream of the possibility 
of availing himself of such chances of evasion would 
have crossed Lord Edward's mind. He loved life, 
indeed, and would fsun have seen good days, but not 
at the cost of what was in his eyes a more important 
matter than life. As he had told his stepfather, he 
was pledged to the cause and he was pledged to the 
men ; and to both he was un^teringly true. 

Yet there must have been anxious moments at 
Kildare Lodge. Another baby was expected with the 
spring ; and Pamela, in spite of the determination she 
had expressed to Madame de Genlis to remain in 
ignorance of her husband's political designs, cannot 
but have been aware to some degree of what 
was doing. Lady Sarah, indeed, writing shortly after 
Lord Edward's death, expressly states that his wife 
had never ceased attempting to use her influence for 
the purpose of persuading him of the ill effects of a 
revolution — " which she, poor soul, dreaded beyond 
all earthly evils " ; and however imperfect was her 
information as to the extent and scope of the con- 
spiracy, she must have known enough to have caused 
her to look back with vain regret to those happy 
earlier days when theory had not yet been reduced to 




H. Hamilton. 



J. Heath. 



Lord Edward KitzGkrald. 



pii^c 217. 



Xite of %ott> £dwatd fftsOerald 247 

practice, and Lord Edward, instead of preparing and 
organising rebellion, was tending his mother's 
flowers at Frescati. It is impossible, calling to mind 
the image of the charming, slight, leghe child whose 
fate was linked with his, not to be sorry for her, as 
she entreated his friends to take care of him. 

No doubt they did their best. But there is a point 
beyond which the care of friends is of small avail, and 
in Lord Edward's case it was not far off. 

He was at this time in his thirty-fifth year, of 
middle height, or rather below it — he was not above 
five feet seven — and there would seem to have been 
something still boyish about the agile figure, the 
fresh colouring, and the elastic lightness of his tread. 
His eyes were grey, set under arched brows and shaded 
and softened by the long black lashes which remained 
in Moore's memory more than thirty years after the 
solitary occasion upon which he saw their owner. 
His hair was of so dark a brown as to incline to black. 

In manner — the description is that of the feather- 
merchant Murphy in whose house he was finally 
captured — he was ** as playful and humble as a child, 
as mild and timid as a lady " ; while a very different 
authority, his cousin Lord Holland, dweUing upon 
the charm which " fascinated his slightest acquaintance 
and disarmed the rancour of even his bitter opponents," 
describes his ** gaiety of manner, without reserve but 
without intrusion," and his "careless yet inoffensive 
intrepidity both in conversation and in action." 

Such, outwardly, was the man who was to lead the 



248 life of %otb tlbwuh fits^ctaXb 

desperate attempt to free Ireland from the yoke by 
which she was oppressed. 

To the spirit in which the enterprise was under- 
taken Lord Holland again bears witness. No 
personal resentment had a share in it. Events, 
personal and public, stirring some men to gloomy 
and resentful bitterness, had no power to alter the 
sweetness of his disposition. He loathed the 
measures ; he forgave the men. *^ Indignant as he 
was at the oppression of his country, and intemper- 
ate in his language of abhorrence at the cruelties 
exercised in Ireland, I could never find that there 
was a single man against whom he felt the slightest 
personal animosity. He made allowance for the 
motives and even temptations of those whose actions 
he detested." 

This sunny-hearted and generous readiness to be- 
lieve the best of all mankind not only bound to him 
those whose cause was his own, but attracted towards 
the revolutionary leader many whose sympathies would 
naturally have lain in a different direction. 

Thus it was observed by a frequenter of his house 
that men were not seldom to be met at it in whom, 
from their position with regard to Government, inter- 
course with one so obnoxious to the authorities must 
have implied a considerable sacrifice of political 
timidity to personal attachment. In particular, 
mention is made of a visit from a certain Colonel 

L (it was doubdess still expedient, at the time 

of writing, to suppress names), who, entering together 



%JUt of Xor^ iBbwatb fttsOexaXb 249 

with two other men unknown to the narrator but 
believed by him to be members of Parliament, placed 
on the table a large canvas purse containing gold ; and, 
smiling at Lord Edward, observed, "There, my 
lord, is provision for " 

It was this power of personal influence, the aptitude 
for gaining affection and inspiring confidence, the 
result rather of his winning and lovable personality 
than of any marked talents or ability, which made the 
young leader a dangerous enemy, and rendered him 
so valuable an auxiliary to the cause with which he 
had identified himself. 

All was by this time, provisionally at least, arranged. 
Towards the end of the year 1796 the military organisa- 
tion of the United Irishmen had been adopted in 
Leinster. Lord Edward and Arthur O'Connor had 
constituted the first Directory of that province ; while 
the second included, in addition to these two, Jackson, 
Oliver Bond, and McNevin. Lord Edward, besides, 
practically filled the post — though it is doubtful 
whether he was ever formally elected to it — of head 
of the Military Committee, a body whose duty it 
was to prepare for co-operation with the expected 
succours from France, and to arrange a general plan 
of insurrection. 

The principal point upon which opinion among 
the Chiefs of the Union diflFered, and it divided their 
counsels to a dangerous extent, was still the question 
whether it was expedient to await the arrival of the 
promised assistance from abroad before uttcmt^^ '^ 



2SO Xite of Xor^ £5wac& fitsOeaOb 

rising at home, or to act indq)endentl7 of foreign 
support. In this matter Lord Edward, as might 
have been expected, lent all the weight of his influence 
to the advocacy of the bolder course, O'Connor 
being also in favour of it. Emmet and McNevin, 
on the other hand, both members of the Supreme 
Executive, elected from the Provincial Directories, 
gave their vote for the more prudent counseb 
of delay. 

A curious and characteristic conversation is recorded 
by Madden, on the authority of the man with 
whom it took place. The pleading of Lord Edward 
for immediate action, independent of French suc- 
cour, recalls that of the patriarch on behalf of 
the doomed city of Sodom, In support of the 
opinion entertained by him that the moment for 
action was at hand he had cited returns from 
which it appeared that one hundred thousand men 
might be expected to take the field. The objector, 
also a United Irishman, but one of a less sanguine 
temperament, pointed out the vital distinction to 
be made between numbers on paper and numbers in 
the field, and frankly owned that, pledged to the 
Union as he himself was, he would not be found in 
the ranks of men who should raise the revolutionary 
standard in the absence of the conditions essential, 
in his opinion, to success. Fifteen thousand French 
soldiers, he argued, had been considered necessary 
at the time when the enterprise had first been con- 
templated ; and owing to the number of English 



Xtre of Xor^ £bwar^ f ftjOetalb ^s^ 

troops now quartered in the country, such an auxiliary 
force was, in a still greater degree, indispensable 
at present 

" What ! " answered Lord Edward, ** would you 
attempt nothing without these fifteen thousand men ? 
Would you not be satisfied with ten thousand ? " 

" I would, my lord," was the reply, " if the aid of 
the fifteen thousand could not be procured/* 

" But," urged the young leader, ** even if the ten 
could not be procured, what would you do then ? ** 

" I would then,** was the answer, " accept of five, 
my lord/* 

"But,'* confessed Lord Edward, "we cannot get 
five ; and when you know that we cannot, will you 
desert our cause?" 

" My lord," was the answer, " if five thousand 
men could not be obtained, I would seek the assistance 
of a sufficient number of French officers to lead 
the men ; and with three hundred of these we might 
be justified perhaps in making an effort for inde- 
pendence, but not without them/' " You, my lord,** 
he added afterwards, "are the only military man 
amongst us ; but you cannot be everywhere you 
are required ; and the misfortune is, you delegate 
your authority to those who you think are like 
yourself. But they are not like you ; we have no 
such persons amongst us/' 

They were wholesome truths, frankly uttered. And 
there is little doubt that the charge was true. It was 
likely enough that the young commander-in-chief did 



35a Xife of %otb £^warD fttjOenOD 

delegate his authority unwisely ; but how, except 
unwisely, could he, under the circumstances mentioned, 
have delegated it ? And the weeks crept on, and 
French aid, whether of officers or men, was not 
sent 

Various causes had contributed to the delay. 
General Hoche, the commander of the expedition 
ending so disastrously, had died a few months 
after its failure, and in him the Irish cause had lost 
a staunch and zealous advocate. Bonaparte, on the 
contrary, on whom the destinies of Europe increasingly 
hung, had never testified any cordiality towards the 
project. The exceptional opportunity which the 
enemies of England might have found in the mutiny 
in the British fleet had been permitted to pass 
unutilised ; and no immediate prospect of succour 
from abroad was apparent. 

On the other hand, Lewincs still remained at Paris ; 
where his position was such that Lord Clare, in a 
speech made in the Irish House of Lords, attributed 
the ill success of the British peace negotiations largely 
to his influence ; thus crediting the representative 
of the United Irishmen with a weight he could 
hardly have possessed. However that might be, the 
agent was given reason to hope that the matter would 
be brought to a successful issue, and it was doubtless 
with the object of hastening that result that 0'G)nnor 
was despatched to France at the beginning of the 
year. 

It was not likely that the envoy of the United 



Xlfc of Xor& E6war6 f ItsOeraW 



253 



Irish body would have been permitted to reach his 
destination in safety. 0*Connor was a marked man, 
who had spent six months of the preceding year 
in prison, and had, since his release, been engaged, 
in conjunction with Lord Edward and others, in con- 
ducting the Press newspaper, the organ of their party 
in Dublin. The Government was also already in 
possession of information, furnished by McNally, as 
to his departure from Ireland, and the mission upon 
which he had been sent. But even had it been 
otherwise, the arrangements for the journey appear 
to have been made for the express purpose of attract- 
ing the attention of the authorities, and of facilitating 
any attempt at capture. They afford, indeed, another 
and a signal instance of the total incapacity of the 
conspirators for conducting the business they had in 
hand. 

Attended, if contemporary papers are to be credited, 
by no less than four companions, O'Connor had set 
out from London ; and having failed to effect an 
embarkation from France at the spot originally selected, 
the party proceeded to make their way on foot to 
Margate, accompanied by a cart containing a large 
amount of luggage. It is scarcely surprising that, 
arrived at that place, they were met by officials who 
had followed them from Bow, had overtaken them 
without undue difficulty, and proceeded to take them 
into custody. 

O'Connor's trial took place, some weeks later, at 
Maidstone ; a military uniform, the key to a cor- 



254 Xffe of Xor^ SDwarD f tt3<9eral& 

respondence in cypher with Lord Edward, and, 
according to some accounts, incriminadng documents 
having been found in his possession. The office of 
the Press at Dublin was also searched, and all papers 
seized ; Lord Edward, who had been in the c^ce 
at the time of the raid, " interesting himself much," 
according to a newspaper of the time, ^^ to comfort 
the woman of the house,'* and ofiering herself and 
her family an asylum in his own house, as compensa- 
tion for the trouble which had been brought upon her. 

In many quarters fears were entertained that evidence 
sufficient would be forthcoming to hang O'Connor. 
Writing of the chances of the trial. Fox observed that 
ministers were "as unrelenting hunters of lives as 
ever lived," and evidently felt alarm as to the result. 
Lord Edward, on the other hand, shared no such 
apprehensions. He was of too sanguine a spirit to 
lend himself to forebodings, declaring besides, not 
without a touch of levity, that his friend had had 
" nothing odd about him, except twelve hundred 
guineas'* — no doubt, taking into account the financial 
condition of the party, a startling and suspicious 
circumstance ! 

Lord lulward's hopefulness was on this occasion 
justified by the event. O'Connor was acquitted, chiefly 
owing to the evidence borne in his favour by the 
Whig leaders, who, satirised in a contemporary squib 
under the names of Foxton, Sherryman, and others, are 
described as "giving him, as they thought, the highest 
character in the world (though many thought that they 



Xife of Xor^ B^war^ fft3(BeraI^ 255 

were unsaying all they had said before) by declaring 
that his principles were exactly the same as their own.^^ 

It will remain a question by what means such men as 
Lord Moira and Grattan, both witnesses in O'Connor's 
favour, and certainly not likely to perjure themselves 
for the sake of a United Irishman, had been brought 
to believe in his innocence. If, however, their in- 
fluence availed to procure his acquittal, it was of little 
service to him. He was at once rearrested, and 
removed to Ireland, where he passed the next four 
years in confinement. 

On Lord Edward's relations, watching the course 
of events with natural anxiety, it was inevitable that 
the apprehension of his intimate friend and associate 
should have produced a disquieting impression ; and 
before they had had time to recover from the alarm 
it had caused them, a second event had taken place 
which threw the other matter into the shade, and was 
the beginning of the end. 

The year had opened favourably, as far as the re- 
volutionary designs were concerned. Ulster, it is true, 
owing to more causes than one, was not in a condition 
so conducive to cordial co-operation as had been the 
case a few months earlier. The seizure, by General 
Lake, of a large quantity of arms ; the difference of 
opinion existing between the northern and the Leinster 
leaders as to the policy of awaiting French aid ; 
together with an unfortunate tendency to jealousy on 
the part of the Presbyterians of the north with regard 
to the Catholic element, by this time so integral and 



:=:pcrttr: £ acrrr o? the Unfoa in odier ports of the 
cr— -trr, hii aZ cD— />:ncd to lessen the measure of 
furr*?r: ?? '>e exnccrsd from the northern province. 
B--^ :? sr s^-?: riis. the spread of the oi^anisa- 
nr-i f'>eT-.-r^ hii beer, enormous ; and in the returns 
— -iii :r Lori Eiw^ri, 15 niilitarv chief, in the month 
0: F::rr-i-y, the fbrce regimented and armed through- 
e-'-t Irtiir.i wi> esdmared a: scarcely less than three 
hu-irfi thiusir.i mer- Nor was the commander-in- 
cr.iif likclr :o ake to heart the warning which had 
See- Se^trTrri urcr. him w:ih regard to the important 
i sr".rr!rr. :r "^e Invr. between numbers on paper and 
r.un-bers :-. z'-.c r.eli. On the surface, at all events, 
ill rrc.T.:>ei well :cr the chances of success, should a 
r!*>-^ be irremrtei. But there was one factor ^ich 
r.il n?: been ticcn into account. This was Mr. 

T-:: :- -^ jl;:!— :i-: :< -?: entitled to the entire 
.-L.i: v :-^^ >L\:..v*. :> rr:?ir!e. \V::h the members 
.:" :".L '• B-::j."..:*: ::' TL>:r:?r.y" scattered through- 
r:.: :-l :--■:-.• :.~/i r'.y.-.T their trade in every 
J. -:-.: — r^.L". :' wrrr: L?ri Moira had publicly 
.:„.!.i-i.:, r""^-: " - rl-ue ::: the Irish House of 
I. -is :".a: -;. • --u.i.:erL.: :o think such wretches 
.»^„!-: r.-..: Lrr:r!:\ -i-.l:.: or protection under any 
Gover:.:r.w:.: " — :: :> r.ot possible that the English 
.■;::hor:::ts ^ho..ii h.ive renuined in total ignorance 
of I co:'.>p:r.ijv which had attained such perilous 
^:::v.l:.>-.o:.>, eve:: haJ not the prince of informers, 
Lvonarvi McNally, been constantly furnishing them 



Xife of Xor^ B^wat^ f tt3(?eral^ 257 

with data as to the affairs of the Society. But, 
notwithstanding the means of information at their 
command, there had still existed, in the first months 
of the year, an absence of any such definite evidence 
as could have been counted upon to ensure convictions 
in the event of the leaders being brought to trial. 
That McNally should appear as a witness does not 
seem to have been contemplated, the continuance of 
his services being probably too valuable to be forfeited 
even for such a purpose, and of the other principal 
tools of the Government two at least were firm in 
their refusal to come publicly forward. Under these 
circumstances the authorities were in a dilemma. 

It is true that another and a less creditable reason 
than that supplied by the absence of sufficient evidence 
has been alleged to have been the true cause of the 
delay of the Government in taking active measures to 
put an end to the conspiracy. It has been asserted 
that, for reasons of their own, they had no desire to 
intervene in such a manner as to prevent the imminent 
insurrection. In support of this explanation of the 
inertia at headquarters Lord Clonmell is said to have 
declared on his death-bed that the United Irishmen 
had been expressly permitted to carry on their work 
unhindered, with a view to the fecilitation of their 
ultimate destruction, adding that he himself had 
entered a vain protest against this policy. 

" As to myself," he is quoted as saying, " if I were 
to begin life again, I would rather be a chimney-sweep 
than connected with the Irish Government." 



ass Xife of Xord £&warb f ftsOeealD 

With the explanation thus furnished of the tardiness 
displayed by the authorities in taking action, certain 
documents, however, conflict, and a letter from Lord 
Camden to the Duke of Portland, written in February, 
1798, should be taken into account. In this com- 
munication the arrest of the rebel leaders, in the 
absence of evidence sufficient to justify a trial, is 
proposed ; the suggestion, characteristic as it was of 
Irish administration of justice, being emphatically and 
unconditionally negatived by the Duke. 

Whatever may have been the cause of the previous 
delay, there can be no doubt that to Reynolds belongs 
the distinction of having made so definite a betrayal 
of the secrets confided to him, as holding a trusted 
position in the Union, as to place it in the power 
of the Government to strike with certainty and safety 
at the heads of the organisation. 

It was in NovembcT, 1797, that the meeting with 
Lord Edward had taken place, resulting in his advance- 
ment to a post of importance in the society of which 
he was already a member. On the 25th of the 
following February, chancing to have as travelling- 
companion on some journey a Mr. Cope — a gendeman 
" in whose friendship and honour I had the most 
implicit confidence " (the words read like satire) — he 
was induced to disclose to him in part the extent of 
the conspiracy, with an account of the proceedings at 
the meeting already mentioned, held some six days 
previously, of which he had been furnished with a 
report by Lord Edward himself Nor was this all ; 



lite of Xot!) £t>wari> f itsOeralZ) 



259 



for he supplied further information with regard to a 
second projected meeting, to include the whole pro- 
vincial Directory of Leinster, to take place in Dublin 
on March 12 th, at the house of Oliver Bond. 

From this time the Government saw its way clearly. 
AH was arranged with the authorities, and on the 
occasion of the proposed meeting the blow was to be 
struck. 

The day before the eventful March 12 th was a 
Sunday, and on that morning Mr, Reynolds, whose 
proceedings at this juncture can be traced in curious 
detail, hospitably entertained at breakfast a member of 
the Society, *' no particular conversation ** taking place 
during the meal, owing to the presence of his wife. 
During a walk, however, taken by Reynolds and his 
guest before they separated, the latter enjoined upon 
the informer a punctual attendance at the meeting 
on the following day — an injunction to which Mr. 
Reynolds doubtless promised obedience ; although he 
relates that later in the day, ** not wishing to be at the 
meeting, as I knew it was to be arrested, 1 wrote a 
note to Bond, stating that Mrs. Reynolds was taken 
very ill/' and consequently excusing himself from 
attendance. 

His Sunday's work was stiU incomplete. Having 
no doubt attended divine service in the interval, the 
ex-member of the Catholic Committee paid a visit to 
Lord Edward, then, with his wife, staying at Leinster 
House ; with the object^ — in which he was successful 
^Hjf inducing his young chief, for whom he appears 



use c( Xcc^ E^«ar^ f itiOcraO) 

' '-..; :--r-u.-'r- i ps-^urne though incongruous 
-::;r-..-:- :: i.>^-- rr^.i*:!: ircn the meeting on the 
T^.T— :'v A T^nzsz T&xr produced bjr Reynolds 
:-•.:. .:'-ii.-.T;i ^.-^jrr-is 15 ^^ the course to be 
".~^^:: r^ zr-t l^^r:*r>' Corps in case of riot or 
:^--~^ >rir^rz rr Ljri E^rriri ro point to the posscs- 
s ; • :•- • vrr-j.r :- r? >r=e iiir.l on the part of the 
."^: :-^.rr:''- l- : ^sr r^\t Itr.z weight to his guest's 
-•*'^->c-':iT :•-. Hi -s-fw-ed, he obser\-ed, that he 
.-•^^ ^t :-r- :: r-xr,:^, w.:h which country com- 
- - - .-*r :." vi? iz r-j.: -r.crr.cr.: interrupted ; since, 
. •,.: :• ■•; *^«:\ 'i -sr-Ii S? ib!?, ?y means of his 
• " - .--• V • 1 :-I: .-i.-i. :: -i5:t" the French in\'asion. 
7'*^ -.-«-.: --..* r ; '.LT. ^i lii^ri. wculd be to fill a 
-"; w '•.-:-^ -^ -^c^'i^ ^'*' ^"^cers and Irishmen 
.-. -.-* ^.-N.-* i- -;ri c-irarie of drilling the 
.- .... . • ■ ^ . : _ : : ". i::i to put off 



- . • ■ . ' ■ . - . - . . . ■':-.:;■■ v-:-r>^::on, suhse- 

. ■ . >. ^ : J:vcrr.r:ient, after 

•- .- - < *- !.:.; Lcri Edward, 

^-. - - : -:.:•. :.'' iir.r.er, but he 

;:. .. -. . :::>.icred his dav's 

J ^-.; "ri :he appro\-al 

. .. v^ . ... ... -.: -i.: :o his well-earned 

..-.-, '--.,-< .,j; b>cer. thoroughly pcr- 
- ... ; -. "i >..-.> :-.<;.r. by the Government 
.\: -. J, .. "Ni^^-t'.^c of his disclosures, were 
:..:..: v% :- .^. b^: won:p!c:e success. No less than 



Xife ot Xor^ B^war^ f it3(?eral^ 261 

fifteen members of the G)mmittee were arrested at 
the place of meeting itself, while four others, absent 
from Bond's house when the raid was made, were taken 
into custody almost simultaneously. All papers were 
likewise seized. 



CHAPTER X\TI 

1-98 

ExcTtrxs^ct in Dcbixn — PuaeU— Lord Edward's Funfly — 
L ri Cut]«reifh's Syspathy— Lord Edward's Evaskxi — 
Vir.c'^ Reports — Keyncids's Curious Coaduct — Meeting 
ct Lcri E«^rard a::d Pamela — Martial Law — Lord 
Edward's Por.tioz— Spurt in which be met iL 

THAT Minrh Monday must have been z day 
rr" c\j teriL*-:: ::: Dublir.. The Government 
.1:..: :-:,. Ci>*^c -^.i.: the r cw:: cjuse of exultation, and 
:hc r::'-!.i:i :> rwv. .-: :".-,?r.s uron that cause. When 
Lor.: C!.=.rv, r..i>: ".y s^:.: for on the arrest of the 
Cv?::<r.M:."'> :? .i::e::.: the n:cct:r.g of the Council, 
\v.i> huTv.!.:: t^? c'?ev the sun^mons, the mob greeted 
h.r.\ with abuse, rcturi.evi by him with interest, 
'*cur>ir.^ .1::.: N\ve.ir:r.g like a madman." 

The::. f.iHiiig ::: with Lord Westmeath, the two 
ei-.terevi a shop, procured pistols, and, thus armed, 
the Chancellor proceeded on foot to the Council. 

Many there will have been, throughout the length 
and breadth ot Dublin, who» as the intelligence spread 
of the wholesale arrests which had taken place at 

a6a 



%AU Of Xot^ £bwar^ fftjOeralb 363 

Bond's house, will have asked themselves and one 
another the question, ** Who next ? " 

And where was Lord Edward meanwhile, the 
leader whose escape, should it be effected, would leave 
the triumph of the Government still incomplete ; and 
in whom the hopes of the people, those others 
they had trusted removed, would centre themselves 
more and more exclusively ? 

This was the question asked by all, with varpng 
d^ees of anxiety, ranging from that felt by Pamela 
as she sat, sick and alone, in the great house in 
Kildare Street which had seemed to the country 
housemaid like a prison, to the malevolent interest 
of the Government officials, or the idle curiosity of 
the lounger in the street. 

It was clear that he had not attended the doomed 
meeting. It was also certain— or seemed to be so— 
that he was not at Leinster House ; though, in point 
of feet, he had been only prevented from entering it 
at the very moment when search was being made for 
him there by the warning of the faithful Tony. 
According to a report in circulation, he was said to 
have been present at the arrest of McNcvin, one of 
the absent members of the G)mmittee who had been 
separately apprehended, and it was added that he had 
only escaped out of the clutches of the Sheriffs officers 
by virtue of the fact that his name was included in no 
warrant at hand. But whether or not this rumour was 
to be credited, he had disappeared, and had, for the 
moment, given his enemies the slip. 



264 Xifc Of Xor^ B^war^ fft3<BeniR> 

At Letnster House a mishap had occurred which 
might have seriously aiFected the issue had the case 
against Lord Edward ever come to be tried in court. 
Although timely warning had been sent to Pamela, 
and she had been specially cautioned to effect the 
destruction of all incriminating documents, her presence 
of mind in face of the crisis appears to have deserted 
her, unless indeed the scarcely credible hypothesis is 
accepted which would make her ignorant of the 
existence of any necessity for such precautions. At 
all events, she appears to have taken no steps to obey 
the directions given to her ; with the result that, on 
the arrival of a search party commissioned to demand 
the surrender of all papers belonging to herself or 
to Lord Edward, she had no alternative but to deliver 
them up. She accordingly did so, though not without 
signs of such evident distress that Major O'Kelly, 
the officer in C(Mnmand of the detachment, is s^d to 
have pertbrmed his duty in tears. 

Though such a display of her sentiments might not 
he altogether judicious upon Pamela's part, it was 
natural enough that, if she had had time to examine 
into the nature of the documents she had so un- 
accountably allowed to fall into the hands of the 
authorities, she should have experienced some un- 
easiness. Amongst them was one — found in Lord 
Mdward*s desk — dealing with the fashion after which, 
in case of a conflict taking place in Dublin itself, 
the fight should be conducted ; as well as a map 
of the town annotated for military purposes by a 



Xife of Xor^ £bwar^ f itjOeralb 365 

gunmakcr. The story goes that, information having 
reached this faithful follower of the fact that his 
handiwork had fallen into the possession of the 
Government, he presented himself at once to the 
authorities, claimed the map boldly as his own, making 
answer, when asked for what purpose he had drawn 
it out, that it had been ^ for his amusement," and 
so did his best to shield his chief. 

The papers secured, the tearful O'Kelly, with his 
men, had retired, only to return shortly afterwards 
to Kildare Street in order to institute a fresh search, 
this time for Lord Edward himself, now ascertained 
beyond doubt to be not of the number of the 
arrested leaders. The quest, thanks to Tony's watch- 
fulness, proved vain — a fact of which Pamela was 
thoughtfully apprised by O'Kelly, to whom she after- 
wards addressed a letter in grateful acknowledgment 
of the consideration with which his duty had been 
performed. 

Others, besides Lord Edward's wife, were in sore 
distress and anxiety on his accoimt. The Duchess 
was, perhaps fortunately, in England at the time ; 
neither was Mr. Ogilvie, though visiting Dublin at a 
later date, as yet upon the spot. His wife's two 
sisters, however. Lady Sarah Napier and Lady Louisa 
ConoUy, were both at hand ; and their rebel nephew 
was scarcely less dear to the one than to the other, 
although the affection of the childless Lady Louisa 
was naturally of a more absorbing type than that 
of the sister surrounded by a band of sons and 



366 xiCe of %otb £5vrarb fttiOctalb 

daughters of her own. It is, indeed, noticeable that 
in neither of these two aunts, or indeed in any others 
of the tamily, is a trace discernible of any anger or 
irritation with regard to the line of conduct which 
had been the cause of so much anxiety, or of any 
sentiment other than an absolute confidence in the 
rectitude of the man they loved so well, combined 
with the tenderest solicitude concerning his safety. 

L^iusual facilities exist for ascertaining not only 
the state of their feelings at this time, but also the 
daily course of events, so far as they were known 
to them. Lady Sarah, whose husband was in a 
condition of health which made it desirable that he 
should remain ignorant at the moment of disquiet- 
ing occurrences, kept for his benefit a minute record 
of the events which followed upon the ministerial 
.vup. III this vi::iry is contained, in particular, a 
i:r.ip:v.c .K\\ni:;t or' .i visit paid by Lady Louisa, on 
the \\\\:::csvi.iy .ir'rcr the arrests, to the house of a 

mirv.srcrial tricrui, Mr, P [Pakenham], and of 

.1 co:ivcrsario!T there carried on with Lord Castlereagh. 

La.iy Louisa, who appears to have been in a 
condition bordering upon distraction, slightly ex- 
asperating to her stronger-minded sister, had appointed 
another nephew. Lord Charles FitzGerald, to meet 
her at the Pakenhains' house. In his stead, however. 
Lord Castlereagh appearevi, with the explanation that, 
in spite of differences ot opinion (Lord Charles, two 
years later, was counted amongst the supporters of 
the Union), nature was strong, and that Lord Edward's 



Xlfe ot Xor^ E^war^ f tt5(Beral& 367 

brother had found himself so much overcome by the 
events of Monday that he had set off early the 
following morning for the country, to get out of 
the way. 

Having offered this somewhat lame interpretation 
of the conduct of his friend, Lord Charles's apologist 
addressed himself to the task of consoling that other 
relation of the fugitive, whose feelings had not had 
the effect of hurrying her from the scene of action. 
He informed her soothingly that she might rely upon 
the earnest wishes of Government to do aU they could 
for Lord Edward, " who was so much loved,** adding, 
with a ring of greater sincerity, that, ** as he can*t be 
found, no harm can happen to him *' — a more con- 
vincing argument for hope than the picture of a 
paternal Government yearning to show mercy. 

Lord Gistlereagh also added that he pitied Lady 
Edward "most exceedingly*' — ^which everybody alike 
seems to have done. 

The host*s part in the conversation is also recorded. 
(" Fine flummery ! '* comments Lady Sarah contemp- 
tuously.) "He only hoped in God he should not 
meet Lord Edward, as it would be a sad struggle be- 
tween his duty and friendship *' — friendship, one may 
believe, to the Conollys, the wealthy and influential 
owners of Castletown, rather than to the culprit 
himself. 

" Louisa took all this as it was intended she 
should,'* adds her sister, still scornful ; " but when 
she was out of the room, Emily " — Lady Sarah's own 



a68 xite of Xor& £5war5 fft50e^a^ 

daughter, adopted by the ConoUys— " heard Sir G. S. 
express his hopes that Lord Edward would be caught ; 
and she did not hear or see anything like a con- 
tradiction to this wish from any of the company." 

It was indeed clear that, whatever might have 
been the attitude of the Government some weeks 
earlier, they were very much in earnest in their desire 
to possess themselves of Lord Edward's person ; 
and later on Lord Clare, who had formerly given 
the assurance to Mr. Ogilvie that no hindrance should 
be placed in the way of the young man's escape, 
told Lord Auckland, with satisfaction, that it was 
expected that such evidence would be forthcoming 
as would enable them to ^^ bring many of the leading 
traitors to justice, and at their head Lord Edward 
FitzGerald." 

For the present, however, he was fortunately out 
of their power, and the question occupying all who 
were attached to him was how he should be kept 
out of it. 

Lady Louisa, fresh from the consolations of Lord 
Castlereagh, went to visit ** poor little Pamela," sick 
at Leinster House, to adjure her to be silent as 
to any information she might possess as to the 
fugitive's whereabouts — surely an unnecessary injunc- 
tion — and to advise her to remain where she was, 
receiving all callers, in order to demonstrate that she 
was innocent of plotting mischief. 

Pamela, whose '* fair, meek, and pitiable " account 
of what had taken place made an excellent impression 



upon Lord Edward's aunt, agreed to all the sugges- 
tions offered ; and Lady Louisa went back to the 
Pakenhams, to make a report of her goodness and 
gentleness, and no doubt to assure them of the 
certainty, of which Pamela had managed to convince 
her visitor, entert^ned by his wife of Lord Edward's 
innocence and safety. One cannot escape the con- 
clusion that Pamela was either a very ingenious or 
a strangely unsuspicious woman. Is it conceivable 
that, living day by day with a man steeped in so-called 
treason, the head of a conspiracy about to break into 
open insurrection, compromised as deeply as rebel 
could be, his wife could have remained ignorant of 
the fact ? Yet this incredible hypothesis is the only 
alternative to the theory that she was deliberately 
and successfully deluding his aunt into a belief in 
her conviction of his innocence. 

Regarding the place of concealment of the object 
of the general anxiety all sorts of rumours continued 
to circulate as the days went by. 

It was asserted that he had been seen in a post- 
chaise at Newry, in the company of his brother 
Charles — the same whose feelings had compelled him 
to absent himself from Dublin, and who, one may 
believe, would in no wise have welcomed the society 
of so compromising a fellow-traveller. According to 
another rumour, he had succeeded in making good 
his escape to France. That this last report continued 
to prevail ts to be inferred from a letter from Lord 
Bulkcley to Mr. Dundas, containing an account 



27> Xife of Xorb £5wart> f lt5(BeraU> 

person of his chief ? To whatever cause his conduct 
was due, the result was the same, and Lord Edward 
continued at liberty. 

Notwithstanding the advice given by Lady Lowsa 
that Pamela should remain at Leinster House— Conolly, 
always a cautious man, having forbidden his wife to 
receive her at her own — she intimated to Lady Sarah, 
on the day of Reynolds's second interview with Lord 
Edward, that her present place of residence had grown 
detestable to her, and announced her intention of 
hiring a quiet house of her own. 

" She bid me," adds Lady Sarah, " tell my sister 
Leinster to be quiUy quite easy. To write would 
be folly in her^ and indeed in «j, for all letters are 
opened now ; so I only wrote to Mrs. Johnston, 
and made a child direct it, desiring her to send for 
Mr. Ogilvic, and show it him. We know nothing 
yet of how my poor sister will take it — I fear very 
hxsWyr 

Pamela's determination to change her quarters was 
explicable enough. It may well have occurred both 
to her and to Lord Edward that communication would 
be easier and safer in an unpretentious lodging than 
should she continue to tenant the Duke's great house. 
At any rate, she carried out her intention without 
delay. On the very day when she had declared 
it — the one on which Lord Edward's hiding-place 
was to be changed for another — he visited her at her 
fresh abode, in Denzille Street ; and the confidential 
maid who, with Tony, had accompanied her thither, 



Xtte of Xort> E^warb f tt5<BeraU> 373 

was startled, on entering the room that night, to find 
her master, whom she had imagined to be in France, 
sitting with his wife in the firelight, both, as she 
believed, in tears ; while little Pamela, not yet two 
years old, had been brought down from her bed in 
order that her father might take leave of her. 

It was the last meeting of husband and wife for 
over a month — their last meeting but one, so far as 
any record remains, on this side of the grave. 

Other matters besides purely personal ones must 
have been discussed that night ; for on the following 
day — the statement is made on the authority of Mr. 
Reynolds's son — the informer had an interview with 
Pamela, when she handed over to him on Lord 
Edward's behalf certain sums due to the funds of 
the Society, Reynolds being still an accredited member 
of it. She also gave him a ring to serve as a guarantee 
of the authenticity of any communication he might 
have occasion to send to her ; and finally complained 
to him of her own lack of available money, in conse- 
quence of which the compassionate Reynolds sent her 
fifty pounds, having placed the like sum at Lord 
Edward's disposal on the previous day. 

The statement may be taken for what it is worth. 
It is a singular coincidence, and one which does 
not tend to corroborate it, that in Lady Sarah 
Napier's diary there is an entry the very day before 
that of Pamela's interview with the informer, to the 
effect that she had sent her nephew's wife the sum 
of twenty pounds, in case she might find herself in 

18 




▼3.:- :f -a^T r.:r-7. ^rr=^ ^^^ Pi=cfa had rc- 
-•r-e^ =i^ VT see T^ riertj br facr. It is of 
iv^-ic rrss;:.- ir;i: ^-.t rac =,dc boc= s«»r at the 
z't viT s:-- :c tr* =.iccx ar hand belonged 
•■ "- =^-^^^- 5.-; »i= =,rc iva£jabic tor pcnooal 
.*c. -: - ITT ISA: .: .5 diSz-Zr ro bc&cve that, 
- lis: :: -«« ?-t *^:.l: -:•: hrre prctemd to be 
-:- -ti :: -tr r.^ri-i 5 x:^: rzrhcr than to the 

House, 

-^ ^ 
-xtzy. I: cir.-i:: be dcxibtcd that the 

:t.Tt .: G:v-r.-e-: :: uj hir.is upon the only 
rr.i- w-.-.ss i:c-i r.:x.-::e w:r: nilirary afiairs could 
;ui-:r. r.i.T. :: ::r-i«;;t ir. ir.rurrcction with any 
c-i':r r,f t-::css ^rrw s'j-rr.rer mi stronger as they 
'.-'■-"-' ' "* " ''■ -vTw-r :: :r.e conspiracr, 
•'.. . .-*.::.-: i-e ^^er^y c:sphved 
r. , J • J j.^: • ~'. -ir V :-e rrcer.: action of 

•■'. ^ V-:' -v ■ -- -J. ^.:: - ::" :he Society, and 
•: :' ;• -.:>:-..:::•: f:-:: Directory/ were 
:-. f •'.:• -: : '^v^ :: r.:-.: >..!Ttrei had not been 
r.i- :! •. :'« V'.;! r' r.--. I: is >a:i that on the very 
cvr-j 'Y -hi: :irr^^> three .ipr^^::::ments were made 
t'/ t';li *'.'j va.l:'..:c^ !cf: ::: the Leinster Executive; 
;i'! ! .1 h.i:: !:■ II ; i:: i:.:) cir^uhtion only five days later 
;'.e. :tfi i :e;i 'f the 'urnvcarying efforts at work 
i'» k'.e;- ij;- the cjiiraye anJ spirits of the national 
I trty. I'reerve.l hy Moorc, it is worth summarising 
hrrc 



Xite ot Xorb £5warb f it5<BetaI& 275 

"For us," so it runs, **the keen but momentary 
anxiety occasioned by the situation of our invaluable 
friends subsided into a calm tranquillity, a consoling 
conviction of mind that they are as safe as innocence 
can make men now ; and to these sentiments were 
quickly added a redoubled energy, a tenfold activity 
of exertion which has already produced the happiest 
effects. The organisation of the capital is perfect ; . . . 
the sentinels whom you have appointed to watch 
over your interests stand firm at their posts, vigilant 
of events, and prompt to give you notice and advice, 
which, on every occasion at aU requiring it, you 
may rely on receiving. . . . Your enemies talk of 
treachery, in the vain and fallacious hope of creating 
it ; but you, who scorn equally to be their dupes 
or their slaves, will meet their forgeries with dignified 
contempt, incapable of being either goaded into un- 
timely violence or sunk into pusillanimous despondency. 
Be firm, Irishmen, but be cool and cautious ; be 
patient yet awhile ; trust to no unauthorised com- 
munications ; and above aU we warn you, again and 
again we warn you, against doing the work of your 
tyrants by premature, by partial or divided exertion. 
If Ireland shall be forced to throw away the scabbard, 
let it be at her own time, not at theirs." 

Evidence of the unbroken and undaunted spirit 
displayed cannot have been wanting to the Govern- 
ment ; and as more and more information reached 
the authorities, the measures they adopted increased 
proportionately in stringency and rigour. They 



276 lite of Xor^ £^war^ f tt50ecald 

culminated in the proclamation, on March 30th, of 
martial law and free quarters — a proceeding followed 
by what has been characterised by an historian whose 
rigid impartiality and unexaggerated veracity none 
will question as '' a scene of horrors hardly surpassed 
in the modern history of Europe." 

It is not necessary to enter here into the sickening 
details of the system of barbarous and savage brutality 
of which the unhappy peasants were made the victims 
through the instrumentality of an army whose con- 
dition was described by its own commander, Sir Ralph 
Abercrombie, as *'a state of licentiousness that 
rendered it formidable to every one but the enemy." 
But it must be borne in mind that the scenes 
enacted through the length and breadth of the 
country have been allowed on all hands to have been 
the cause of hastening on the insurrection and of 
making further postponement impossible. 

In Dublin itself and its vicinity the measures of 
the Government had been marked by special prompti- 
tude and energy. Within a fortnight of the arrests 
at Bond's, so strictly enforced were the orders to 
institute everywhere a search for arms that domi- 
ciliary visits were paid for that purpose to the houses 
of men as well known as Mr. ConoUy and Colonel 
Napier. 

Of the warning conveyed to Lady Louisa Conolly, 
in the absence of her husband, of the impending 
search, and of her reception of the intelligence, a 
graphic account is given by Lady Sarah. The timorous 



life or %oxb Kbvoavb f tt50eral^ 977 

and nervous Lady Louisa had, to the indignation 
of her sister, treated the officer by whom it had 
been brought with all courtesy and meekness, going 
so far as to desire that gentleman — plainly dis- 
posed to treat the search in the present case as a 
matter of form — not to allow his civility to interfere 
with the performance of his duty. 

**Thus," pursues the high-spirited Lady Sarah — 
" thus did my dear sister so aUer her nature that she 
submitted to be disarmed and leave her house a prey 
to vagabonds. . . . What perversion in the noblest 
nature may be compassed by cunning, by nerves, and 
by habits of having terror rung in her ears for years ! 
I had neither time nor thoughts to answer, argue, or 
try to convince her " — Lady Louisa had come over 
to her sister's house to communicate to Lady Sarah 
the warning she had herself received — " I thanked her 
for the notice and rejoiced to be prepared \ and on 
reflection I now determine to refuse to aUow the search 
or to give up the arms." 

To which determination, it may be added. Lady 
Sarah steadily adhered, successfully vindicating her 
right to retain the means of defence. 

On the same morning that Lady Louisa's visit 
had been paid. Lady Sarah had received another, this 
time from a Mr. Henry, with whom the political 
situation, and in especial Lord Edward's share in it, 
was discussed. It was the opinion of the guest that 
the Government still continued to desire the escape 
of the young leader. He, however, C3r~*«*^ his 



21& Xite ot Xor^ £6war5 fft3<Beca(& 

fears that the latter would be tempted " to draw the 
sword and throw away the scabbard, for that thejr 
(I don't know who Henry includes in ikey) all say 
that if Edward is taken or touched they xvoM*i bear it." 

Lady Sarah also learnt from the same informant 
that *^ Lord Ormond and Sparrow made themselves 
constables, searching for Edward with two dragoons, 
the latter vowing he would bring him dead or 
alive." 

In spite, however, of the endeavours of poUce, 
professional and amateur, Lord Edward continued to 
remain at large. Nor, whatever might be the case 
with Pamela, does it seem that any of his relations 
were aware of his whereabouts. 

Yet he was, in fact, during the ten weeks for which 
he contrived to baffle his pursuers, never absent from 
Dublin or its immediate vicinity. 

His presence in the neighbourhood was no fool- 
hiirdy courting of danger ; it was clearly necessary. 
Taking into account all the circumstances of the case, 
the activity and vigour of the Government, and the 
possibility that, in the excited condition of the people, 
immediate action might be rendered at any moment 
expedient or necessary, it was essential that the man 
on whom the command of the enterprise would 
devolve should remain at hand, ready at any time, 
in the event of an emergency, to take the direction 
of affairs. 

In no case was it likely that, at this eleventh hour, 
Lord Edward would have been induced to consult 



%Atc ot Xorb £&warb ^itaOeralb 



«>9 



his own safety by withdrawing to a distance. Yet the 
position might well have seemed to most men little 
short of desperate. The blow struck by Government, 
important as it was to minimise it, had been a crush- 
ing one, depriving the conspiracy of close upon a score 
of its ablest heads, and diminishing to an incalculable 
d^ee its chances of success. It must further — in 
spite of the denial contained in the handbill which 
has been quoted — have been suspected, if not known, 
that the information which had enabled the Govern- 
ment to aim that blow with such precision and 
exactitude had been due to treachery ; and in the 
absence of power to bring home the guilt to any 
individual, it was not surprising if men, carrying their 
lives in their hands, should have been tempted to 
look upon each other with distrust. 

It was also clear that French assistance, alone 
promising a fair chance of success to the rising, was 
no nearer than before. In a note which reached Lord 
Edward some weeks later, couched, for the purpose 
of evading suspicion, in ambiguous terms, the Irish 
agent at Paris wrote that the desired advance of 5,000 
pounds — jealousy of too large an invading force had 
limited the request to that number of men — had been 
refused, that no payment would be made short of the 
entire, and even that not for four months. It might 
as well have been four years. 

Nor, turning from public to persona 
the prospect upon which the eyes of the ^ 
rested less menacing. A hunted man, v 




on, a price upon his head ; separated from the wife 
he loved at the time of her greatest need; his own 
future, with hers, and that of their little children and 
the baby still unborn, lying dark and uncertain before 
him ; his closest friend awaiting in prison his trial on 
a capital charge ; his comrades, true and lojral, most 
of them scattered or fallen into the hands of the 
enemy ; cut off from all possibility of communication 
with the mother he loved so well, and the thought 
of whose anxiety must have been in itself a burden 
heavy to bear, — such was Lord Edward's position 
through those weeks of loneliness and peril. It 
was a position which might well have taken effect 
upon the most courageous heart, the most gallant 
temper. 

Yet, with all this, his spirit, so far as can be known, 
never flagged. Throughout these weeks of daily peril, 
when he could feel no security, as each morning broke, 
that evening would not rind him run to earth by the 
men who were hunting him down, the prey of a false 
friend or a paid informer, when the weight, more 
oppressive than that of personal danger, of the supreme 
responsibility for the direction of the movement which 
represented to him the salvation of the country and 
of the miserable people, tortured, murdered, and 
desperate, rested upon his shoulders, his courage 
never failed. He faced the chances of death with as 
gentle and light-hearted a gallantry as he had faced 
those of life. Only when he was at last tracked down, 
when the hope of being of further service to his 



cause was at an end, is any trace evident of a 
readiness to relinquish the struggle. 

" I am sorry for it," he replied quietly, upon being 
told that the wound he had received in the fight 
which had just taken place was not dangerous. It was 
his solitary expression of regret. 



CHAPTER X\Tn 
1798 

Lofd Edward in Hiding — Haxrfareadth Eyapra — Lojaltj and 
Treacbay— In Thomas Street— Last Visit to His Wife — 
Issorrectiooary Plans — Higgins and Magan — ^Attempt at 
Capture — Acquittal of Lord Kingston — Lord Edward 
tracked, wounded, and taken Prisoner. 

THE history of Lord Edward during the following 
weeks is the history of a hunted man — a record 
of hairbreadth escapes, of fitfiil caution alternating 
with the reckless foolhardiness which familiarity with 

danger seldom fails to breed. It is a story of sordid 
and cold-blooded treachery and of heroic tidelin^*. 

There is no contrast more striking than that pre- 
sented at this moment by the histor)' of the countr>' 
between instances of repeated and deliberate betrayal 
of trust by men whose position and standing might 
have seemed to be a guarantee of integrit)*, and the 
most unshaken and incorruptible loyalty on the part 
of others to whom the offered bribes would have meant 
the exchange of poverty and want for undreamt-of 
riches. The story is well known of the escape of 
Hamilton Rowan, when a couple of boatmen, with the 

282 



f^ 



Xifc of Xord j£Dward ^itji^erald 2S3 

very handbills in their possession which offered a 
hundred pounds for his apprehension, carried him safely 
over to France. On another occasion three militia 
soldiers, condemned to death as United Irishmen, chose 
rather to give up their lives than to purchase pardon 
by the betrayal of their comrades, the father of one of 
the three, when desired to use his influence for the 
purpose of saving his son, declaring that he would 
shoot him himself sooner than see him turn informer. 
And again and again Lord Edward, placed by his 
rashness in circumstances of the utmost jeopardy, was 
safeguarded by the fidelity of those in whose power 
he lay. 

On the other hand, it seemed to cost little to men 
like Reynolds, or like Higgins the journalist and 
Magan the barrister — the two who share between them 
the honour of his final betrayal — to convert themselves 
into Government tools. In the same way Captain 
Armstrong — with, be it remembered, the emphatic ap- 
proval of his brother-oflicers — gained the confidence of 
the unfortunate Sheares brothers, associated with them 
on friendly terms, acquired possession of their secrets, 
wound up by dining with them and their family on the 
eve of the catastrophe — a proceeding with r^rd to 
which it is fair to say that he had himself entertained 
scruples, removed by Lord Gistlereagh — and delivered 
them over the following day to the vengeance of the 
Government. It was no wonder that acts such as 
these gave birth in some instances to altogether un- 
merited distrust ; and as a proof of the lengths to 



a84 %XU Of Xotd £MnnO fttjOecalft 

which suspicion might go, it is strange to find that 
Mr. Ogilvie, whose devoted and lifelong affection for 
his stepson might have been expected to exempt him 
from suspicion, was at one time regarded in the Ught 
of a possible betrayer. 

It was not considered advisable that Lord Edward 
should remain for any length of time in the same place 
of concealment ; and the retreat that had been selected 
for him upon leaving the house in which he had 
received the visits of Reynolds was the home of a lady 
named Dillon, who lived close to the Grand Canal at 
Portobello Bridge. 

Though unacquainted, except by reputation, with 
the man to whom shelter was to be afforded, she con- 
sented, at the request of Mr. Lawless, a surgeon and 
one of the ablest of the United Irishmen still at laige^ 
to receive the fugitive. Under her hospitable roof he 
reni:iirR\i for close upon ;i month, ready at hand in case 
any emergency should call for Immediate action ; and 
in the meantime eluding, so far as it was possible, 
observation. 

It must have been an anxious time for his hostess, 
who had quickly attached herself to the young leader 
confided to her care, with his winning ways and love- 
able nature, and his rash disregard of the commonest 
rules which prudence would have prescribed. To be 
cautious was not possible to him, however momentous, 
to himself and the country, might be the interests at 
stake ; and a flagrant example of his carelessness was 
afforded by the prompt discovery, by a servant in Mrs. 



%Afc ot Xor^ Edward f itjCBerald 385 

Dillon's household, of the identity of her visitor " Mr. 
Jameson " with the rebel chief, owing to his name 
being written at full in one of his boots. In this in- 
stance the secret had fortunately fallen into safe hands, 
the man assuring his mistress that she had no cause 
for alarm, as he would die to save her guest. He like- 
wise refused, with a caution and foresight Lord 
Edward might have done well to imitate, to receive the 
acknowledgments of the fugitive in person ; in order 
that, in case of necessity, he might be able to swear 
that he had never seen him. 

So long as daylight lasted Lord Edward was per- 
force obliged to confine himself to the house ; but 
when the fi-iendly darkness — the late dusk of the 
spring evenings— came on, he would issue forth, a 
child who chanced to be at hand his usual companion. 
As the two playfellows — the one, it would seem, 
scarcely less light-hearted than the other — returned 
along the water's edge, Lord Edward amusing him- 
self with the alarm of his little companion as he sprang 
into the half-sunk boats that lay in the canal, the 
sound of their laughter would reach the ears of the 
anxious woman waiting at home, and she would go 
out to meet her guest and warn him of the 
necessity for caution — a warning no doubt accepted 
with penitence and gratitude, and dismissed without 
delay from the memory of the delinquent 

A great conspiracy had also been entered into 
between himself and his little associate, to while away 
the hours, having for its object the uprooting of a 



386 %AU Of Xotd E5ward fft30eraI^ 

bank of orange lilies in the absence of their lawful 
owner. Truly they were children together. 

Even to the most light-hearted, however, moments 
must come when the pressure of anxiety will make 
itself felt. At such times the thoughts of the fugitive 
would turn to his wife and babies ; and he would wait 
eagerly for news of the household in Denzille Street, 
of the poor sick wife and her children, Edward Fox 
and baby Pamela. Mrs. Dillon would then go into 
Dublin to obtain tidings of them ; and having guned 
the certainty that all was, for the present at least, well, 
her visitor would no doubt take courage again. 

Life during these weeks and those which followed 
was not wanting, as may be imagined, in distractions 
of a more exciting nature than could be afibrded by 
an onslaught upon unoffending lilies. To a man of 
Lord Kdward's boyish temperament and love of 
adventure the risks he ran would not have been 
without their charm. A story, for example, is told 
of how on one occasion a yeoman named Dempsey — 
the tale was preserved in his family and will remain 
its title to honour — on guard at Lcixlip Bridge, was 
accosted at dawn one day by a countryman in frieze 
coat ami corduroy breeches, with the question whether 
there was any night park at hand where he might 
house the sheep he was driving before him. 

" No, my lord,'' was the significant reply ; " there 
is no pasturage in this neighbourhood." 

And the eyes of the two men will have met, in full 
comprehension of all that was left unsaid. Then, no 



Xite of Xord E5war& f ftjOetald 387 

other word spoken, the sentinel resumed his beat, 
and the drover passed on, possessed of a new proof 
of the loyalty of the people to their chief, and with a 
fresh hopefulness at his heart. 

On another occasion, later on, the peril incurred 
was more serious. The fugitive was actually arrested 
by a patrol when engaged in making a survey of the 
country about Kildare, in company with Samuel 
Neilson, one of the most prominent United Irishmen 
remaining at liberty, and the same who, with more 
acutcness than had been displayed by wiser men, had 
conceived a doubt of Reynolds*s honesty. 

Neilson — of whom, curiously enough, Grattan had 
a better opinion than of most of his associates, and 
who had also been consulted by the Chief Secretary, 
Pelham, with regard to the possibility of conciliating 
the North — was a Belfast journalist, violent, in- 
temperate, and imprudent. He was held by some to 
be not altogether accountable for his conduct when 
under the stress of excitement, and his reckless indis- 
cretion at the time of Lord Edward's arrest drew 
upon him, probably quite unjustly, the suspicion of 
treachery. By his great stature and Herculean propor- 
tions he was rendered almost as conspicuous and as 
undesirable a companion for a hunted man as poor 
black Tony, who lamented to Mrs. Dillon the fact 
that his " unfortunate face " was an obstacle to his 
visiting his master while he was in hiding. Of 
his extraordinary physical strength evidence was given 
when he was brought to trial before Lord Carleton — 



a88 xffe Of Xord £^wat^ f ttsOenld 

that judge the sharpness of whose severity was ex- 
plained by Curran when he described him as water 
turned to ice, congealed fears — ^the jailer excusing 
himself for the unusual weight of the irons put upon 
the prisoner by the assertion that though he would 
not have made use of such fetters for any other two 
men, they were, in this case, necessary for his own 
safety. 

It was in the company of this person that Lord 
Edward was arrested by the patrol. Neilson, however, 
pretended to be drunk. Lord Edward assumed the 
character of a doctor, and both were set at liberty. 

On yet another occasion, a police officer having 
been observed to be taking note of the house where 
the refugee was concealed, and a raid upon it being 
consequently apprehended, he was promptly put to 
bed, in the absence of her mistress, by Mrs. Dillon's 
maid, and so disposed as, in case of a search, to 
represent an invalid lady. The alarm, however, proved 
to have been a false one, and nothing came of it, 
except much laughter on the part of the chief actor 
in the play. 

The fact, however, which had given rise to the 
apprehension being taken into account, together with 
one or two other suspicious circumstances, it was 
decided that the place of concealment should once 
more be changed. It was accordingly arranged that 
Lord Edward should pass some days in Thonuis 
Street, at the house of the feather-merchant Murphy, 
whose description of his guest has already been quoted. 



Xife ot %ovb Edward f it5(^tald 289 

In this place, and in two other houses dose by-*- 
those of Moore and Cormick ^ — ^he spent some weeks, 
becoming, as time went on and he remained undis- 
covered, more and more n^lectful of the commonest 
precautions. He went so far as to venture, upon 
his arrival in Dublin, to visit his wife, whose neigh- 
bourhood must have been constantly under police 
observation. The shock caused to Pamela by the 
discovery of the true nature of the guest she had 
been summoned to receive in the disguise of a woman, 
and her terror at the consequences which might attend 
his imprudence, came near to costing her her life ; and 
it was then that the birth of her child — Lord Edward*s 
younger daughter — took place. 

The anticipations of the promoters of the conspiracy 
were assuming, as well they might, a less sanguine 
complexion. A man named Hughes, examined in 
August of the same year before the G^mmittee 
of the House of Lords, gave a description of a visit 
paid by him in Neilson's company to Cormick's 
house during the period that Lord Edward was taking 

> Cormick, though apparently trustworthy so long as it was a 
question of his leader's safety, had afterwards a less satisfactory 
record. Arrested in Guernsey in July of the same year, on suspicion, 
by General Dalrymple, he not only made a voluntary confession of 
his past errors, but followed it up by informing against an Irish sentry, 
who, he affirmed, had offered to assist him to escape — a proof of 
contrition which appears to have impressed the General very favourably, 
although he was not altogether confident of his penitent's veractly. 
" I think there may be some doubt," he wrote, " but I must oo the 
whole bear a very favourable testimoiiy to Mr. CcxnkM * 
here." (See Lord CastUnagh^t C0rufomUmc$.) 



shelter there. He had been found playing billiards 
with Lawless, the surgeon, and the visitor had re- 
mained to dinner ; when, according to his evidence, 
the conversation had turned upon the condition of 
the country, and the opinion unanimously expressed 
by those present — some four or five of the United 
part}' — had been that the chances of success, in the 
event of a rising, were small. 

It was the conclusion to which all sane men must 
have come. But it was not a conclusion which neces- 
sarily justified inaction. Rightly or wrongly, to Lord 
Edward and his comrades, to recede from the 
position they had taken up, however slight might 
be the chances of success, would have seemed an 
abandonment of the cause to which they were pledged. 

There were other reasons rendering the relinquisb- 
mcnt ot the enterprise impossible. The work of 
the Ciover!i!iu-:ir had been J.one, and done well. Its 
vuv\ess had been complete. " The means *'— once 
more to quote Casrlereai:h's own words — " the means 
taken to make it [the rebellion] explode," had not failed 
in their object. The people had been driven mad. 
CuwdeJ. into viesperation by even' species of torture 
that cruelty couKl devise, it was clear that, with 
tbrei^-n aivl or without it, by the advice of their leaders 
or in spite of it, they would not much longer consent 
to deter the appeal to physical force. And since this 
was the case, it was not for the men they had trusted 
to leave them to make that appeal alone. To do so 
would have been to play the part of cowards— a part 



Xfte of Xord Edward jTftjc^aR) 391 

which, from the young commander-in-chief downwards, 
no men were less qualified to act. It was therefore 
becoming daily more evident that the time was close 
at hand when, in spite of forebodings of failure, the 
insurrection upon which so many hopes had been fixed 
must be risked. 

It was accordingly determined, taking the state of 
the country and the condition of public feeling into 
account, that to wait longer for French aid was im- 
possible, and that a genend rising should be arranged 
to take place, so far as might be, simultaneously in 
the four provinces ; May 23rd being the date finally 
fixed upon for the outbreak. The younger of the 
Sheares brothers, now an important member of the 
reconstructed Leinster Directory, was accordingly de- 
spatched to G)rk early in the month, in order to 
organise co-operation in that part of the country ; 
while in Leinster, where Lord Edward intended to 
take personal command, the capital was to be seized, 
the camp at Lehaunstown surprised, with the artillery 
at Chapelizod, and the Lord Lieutenant and other 
members of the Government were to be made prisoners. 

Such was the desperate scheme planned in the 
early days of May. Gdling to mind that conversation 
at Cormick's house, it is incredible but that those by 
whom the plot was elaborated must have been aware 
that it was a forlorn hope in which they were preparing 
to hazard their lives. But there could be no question 
now of turning back. 

Meantime, as more and more disquieting information 



292 xtfe ot Xor5 Sdward fttsOcaJb 

was received by the Government as to the condition 
of the country, its anxiety to secure the person of 
the popular leader* and by that means to deprive 
the insurgents of the weight which, both personallT 
and by reason of his birth and name, he lent to 
the movement, was proportionately increasing. As 
the pursuit became keener. Lord Edward, with the 
hope of eluding the vigilance of the authorities, was 
moved with greater rapidity from one place of con- 
cealment to another. 

Early in May he threw himself once more upon 
the hospitality of Mrs. Dillon ; who, receiving at the 
house of a friend the intelligence that Miss FitzGerald, 
from Athy, had arrived to visit her, proved herself 
to be so inadequately trained in the art of conspiracy 
as to faint on the spot. 

Ir is said that vluring this second visit to the house 
upiMi the (iranJi Canal even the small measure of 
cauti'Mi \.ord Ivlward had hitherto been induced to 
o!>serve wa^ thrown to the winds ; that he received 
constant visit(^rs from Dublin ; and that, with the 
e\/itcnK-nt of the approaching conflict quickening his 
l^lood, he no longer maintained so much as a semblance 
ot" i^rudcnce. lender these circumstances, it is not 
ast(Miishiny that he should have been at length 
a'pprehcjuicvl. But that a man so well known should 
have been able, for the space of ten weeks, in Dublin 
or its immediate vicinity, to elude the pursuit of those 
who were u|^on his track is a fact in any case 
difficult to explain, and may be accepted as a proof 



Xtfe of XorD £^war^ fttsOec$Xb 293 

that treachery had not been so widespread as has 
sometimes been believed. 

The recklessness of himself and his friends, from 
the point of view of their party, came near to being 
criminal ; for if the insurrection was not to be deprived 
of its commander-in-chief, precaution was every day 
becoming more necessary. On May loth Giptain 
Armstrong's first interview with the Sheares took 
place, when he obtained information of a part at least 
of the projects that were drawing to a head, as well 
as of the hopes indulged by the revolutionary party 
of gaining over the militia — a most important item 
in their programme. On the following day the 
Government, probably moved to the step by the 
disclosures that had been made, issued a proclamation 
offering a thousand pounds reward for the apprehension 
of Lord Edward FitzGerald. It was this measure 
which ultimately resulted in his capture ; though 
whether to Higgins, the proprietor of the Freematis 
Journal^ or to Francis Magan, the barrister, who was 
the more immediate instrument in the process of 
betrayal, belongs the credit or discredit has been a 
much-debated point. 

An immense amount of somewhat unprofitable 
labour has been expended upon the attempt to appor- 
tion to each of these gentlemen their proper amount 
of responsibility in the transaction. The fact would 
seem to be that Higgins occupied the position of 
employer or patron — the go-between <^ minitters: 
Magan being the paid tool. The fintyl 



394 X4fe of Xotd £Owar& fttjOeralb 

as the *'Sham Squire,*' into the detsuls of whose 
disreputable career it is not necessary to enter, 
though an informer, was not in the strict sense of 
the word a traitor, having openly and consistently 
given his support to the Government. It was his 
office apparently to suborn other men. Magan was 
his special discovery, introduced by him some months 
earlier to the authorities as a member of the United 
Irish Society from whom useful knowledge might be 
bought, and who justified the assertion and proved 
his value at the present juncture by furnishing in- 
formation with regard to Lord Edward's movements 
and whereabouts. 

From the documents that remain, it would seem 
that Higgins experienced some amount of difficulty 
in keeping his subordinate firm. 

** If you cm sec M. this night," he wrote, some- 
where about the end of April, to his employers, " you 
can bring out where Lord I\dwurd is concealed." And 
again, '' RememluT to bring him to a point — I mean 
about Lord Edward.'' It would almost look as if 
Magan were still troubled by scruples. The Govern- 
ment, however, had their own methods of removing 
those indulged in by needy men ; and a fortnight 
later Higgins was able to complain that " M. seems 
mortified that when he placed matters within the reach 
of Government, the opportunity was neglected." It 
was soon, however, furnished with another. 

Lord Edward's second stay under the roof of 
Mrs. Dillon was not of long duration. The night 



Xite ot %otb Edward fft36eraR> 295 

of May 23rd having been definitely fixed upon as 
the date upon which the general rising should take 
place, it was essential that the leader should be close 
at hand, in order that consultation might be held 
with him at any moment. About the 13th, therefore, 
he bade his hostess farewell, characteristically sparing 
her what anxiety he might, by leaving her with the 
impression that his visit to Dublin was merely con- 
nected with the ordinary business transactions of the 
Society, and that she might look for his return in no 
long time. 

It is difficult to trace his movements with accuracy 
for the succeeding week, and they are variously 
chronicled. The time seems to have been divided 
between the private house of James Moore, a public- 
house keeper, where he enacted the part of French 
tutor to the daughter of his host ; and the house 
of the same feather-merchant. Murphy, who had 
previously shared with Moore and Cormick the perilous 
honour of affording shelter to their chief. 

It was to Moore's house that he appears to have 
gone first on his arrival in Dublin, remaining there 
for some three or four days. It must have been 
during this interval that an interview took place — 
the last — between Mr. Ogilvie and his wife's son, 
described by Miss Moore in reference to the extra- 
ordinary suspicion of treachery from which this tried 
and trusted friend of a lifetime was not exempt. 

" I know not whom to trust," she said — as indeed 
she might, remembering the implicit confidence which 



296 Xtfe of %oxX> iBlbwatt fttsOetaXb 

it will be seen had been placed by her in Nfagan. *^ I 
saw Lord Edward take a ring from his hand, and press 
it on Mr. Ogilvie as a keepsake. Tears fell from 
Mr. Ogilvie*s eyes as he grasped Lord £dward*s hand." 

It was a final parting. It may be that by both men 
the probability that it would prove such had been 
recognised. Perhaps, too, both were thinking of the 
mother, now grown old, alone in England with the 
weight of her anxiety — an anxiety to which Lady 
Holland made allusion when, after Lord EUlward*8 
arrest, she expressed her fear that, should the matter 
end fatally for the " child of her heart," it would not 
do less in the case of his mother. 

Lord Edward, however, can have had little time or 
thought to spare even for those he held dearest. 
During the days passed at Moore's house another 
incident, besides that interview with Mr. Ogilvie, 
took place. A meeting was held at which the young 
leader made a suggestion of so bold a nature that 
less daring spirits might well have shrunk from its 
ad()[Hion. Yet, hazardous as it was, carried into 
effect, it might have changed the outlook of ailairs. 
The character of the situation, the desperate condition 
of the conspiracy, demanded despierate measures. It 
might have found in them its best chance, though a 
poor one, of success. 

What Lord Edward proposed was no less than 
an attack upon the House of Lords, to take place 
on May i8th, when Lord Kingston, before the 
assembled peers, was to undergo his trial for the 



Xffe of Xor^ £^war^ f fts^eralb 397 

murder of Colonel FitzGerald, the seducer of his 
daughter. 

What chance of success, partial or complete, the 
scheme would have had, had Lord Edward's suggestion 
been adopted, must remain in doubt. More timid 
counsels prevailed ; and it was rejected by a majority 
of two, of whom the informer Magan was one. 
In the report of the occurrence made by Higgins, 
he added that an attack on the Gistle had been agreed 
upon for the following week ; and he furthermore, as 
Magan's mouthpiece, supplied the information as to 
where Lord Edward would be found that night. 

Magan had good reason for being in a position to 
furnish this intelligence, for, if the account of the 
matter given by Miss Moore is to be relied upon — 
and there seems no reason to doubt it — it was to his 
own care that Lord Edward was to be consigned. 

It had come to the knowledge of the conspirators 
that Moore's house had fallen under the suspicion of 
the Government. A carpenter of the name of Tuite, 
occupied in repairing the floor within the recess of a 
double door in the house of Mr. Cooke, had over- 
heard the Under-Secretary observe that it was to be 
searched for pikes and traitors. The traitor behind the 
door took his measures promptly. Wrenching oflF 
the hinge, he asked permission to go and provide 
himself with another, hurried to Moore's house, gave 
warning of the impending visit, and went back to 
complete his interrupted labours. 

The intimation was acted upon at once. Moore 



298 xtfe of Xord £5war5 fftsOenlb 

himself fled without delay, leaving it to his daughter 
to provide for Lord Edward*s safety. This she 
accordingly did by arranging with her friend Mr. 
Francis Magan that he should receive the fugitive 
that same night at his house. 

Magan was not slow to avsul himself of the 
opportunity thus afforded him. Acting upon the 
intelligence he supplied, it was determined by Govern- 
ment that his expected guest should be seized on the 
way from Thomas Street to Usher*s Island, where 
the informer lived. With this object the Town 
Major, Sirr — Lord Edward's Gibraltar acquaintances- 
provided himself with what he considered a sufficient 
force to deal both with the leader and vnth the body- 
guard by which it was now his custom to be ac- 
companied, disposing his men in two parties, in order 
that the rebels might be intercepted whichever of 
the alternative routes to Usher's Island they might 
take, and thus awaited their coming. 

As it chanced, the other party had likewise separated, 
with a view, no doubt, to avoid attracting attention. 
The result was that a scuffle took place in both streets. 
But while Sirr was knocked down and in danger of 
his life, only a single prisoner was captured, and 
one who contrived to give so satisfactory an account 
of himself that he was presently released. Lord 
Kdward made good his escape. He gave up, however, 
in consequence of the attack, his intention of seeking 
shelter at Usher's Island that night, returning instead 
to his former quarters in Thomas Street, and throwing 



Xffe ot Xord E^warb f ft5<BeniI^ 299 

himself again upon the hospitality of Murphy, a timid 
man who, though faithful in spite of his fears, would 
gladly have been quit of the perilous responsibility 
thus thrust upon him. 

Once more — for the last time — Lord Edward had 
escaped the toils of his enemies. Almost at the 
same hour, in the House of Lords, another oflfender 
against the law had also made good his defence, 
though after a different fashion. Before a brilliant 
assemblage, under the presidency of the Lord Chancellor 
Clare, Lord Kingston had been called upon to answer 
for the crime with which he stood charged. 

" Culprit," he had been asked in the terms of the 
old formula, " by whom will your lordship be tried ? " 

" By God and my peers," the accused made reply. 

" God send you good deliverance," was the rejoinder, 
also prescribed by precedent. 

The aspiration had been heard. Lord Kingston 
stood that evening acquitted of murder, on the score 
of justification, a free man. But to the national leader, 
awaiting his doom in the little house in Thomas 
Street, no such plea of justification would have been 
allowed, bring forward as he might the ruin of 
countless homes in the place of one. 

He had not long to wait. The race for life was 
over ; the quarry was run to earth. 

On the morning succeeding the struggle which had 
taken place between the Town Major and Lord 
Edward's escort, Magan paid a visit to Miss Moore. 
Whether or not there had been any truth in the 



300 life of XotD £^war^ ^tjOeralD 

hints thrown out by Higgins as to the difficulty he 
had exf)erienced in bringing his accomplice to the 
actual point of betrayal, it is dear that those difficulties 
had been overcome, and that he had now taken kindly 
to the part. His visit was made for the purpose of 
ascertaining the reason of the non-appearance of his 
guest on the previous night, and his careworn aspect 
— natural enough, seeing that a thousand pounds 
might be at stake — was remarked by Miss Moore^ 
who doubtless explained it by the anxiety felt by 
the conspirator for the safety of his chief. 

" 1 have been most uneasy," he told her, " Did 
anything happen ? I waited up till one o'clock, and 
Lord Edward did not come." 

Still wholly unsuspicious of treachery. Miss Moore 
fell at once into the trap laid for her. She not only 
cnliiihtcncJ the informer :is to the occurrences of the 
preceding ni^ht — of which he was probably himself 
in ;i position to have given her an account — but 
bestowed upon him as well the information he 
sought ;is to the leiuler's present place of concealment, 
the intelligence being doubtless passed on without 
loss of time— though no evidence remains of this 
fact— through HiiTLrins to the authorities. 

At the time when Miss Moore made her statement 
with regard to her dealings with Magan, his guilt 
had not been so conclusively brought home to him 
as afterwards. Her own inference, however, arguing 
from the course of events, was clear. 

" If Magan is innocent," she said, with the bitterness 



Xtfe of Xor& E^watb f ttsOecald 301 

of a friend who has trusted and has been deceived, 
** then I am the informer," since they two had alone 
been in the secret of Lord Edward's intention of 
seeking shelter at Usher's Island when he had been 
waylaid and intercepted. At the time when Magan's 
visit was paid, though the incident from which she 
afterwards inferred his guilt had already taken place, 
her confidence in him was too complete to be at once 
dispelled. Even had her suspicions been aroused, 
caution on her part at this stage would have availed 
but little to avert the approaching catastrophe. 

Murphy, on Lord Edward's arrival at his house the 
night before, had been struck by his altered appearance. 
It was little wonder. The life he had been leading, 
the constant strain both on body and mind, be a man's 
courage and spirit what it may, does not leave him 
as it finds him. He was also ill, and suflFering from 
a cold. There was, however, no time to indulge in 
sickness, and the next morning he declared himself 
better. It was a Saturday — the Saturday after Ascension 
Day — and for the Wednesday or Thursday following 
the general rising was planned. Yet, notwithstanding 
the nearness of the crisis and the supreme necessity 
for prudence during the brief space of time which 
was to intervene, incident after incident betrayed the 
almost incredible heedlessness of the conspirators with 
regard to the commonest precautions. 

As Murphy, anxious and nervous, stood before 
his door on the morning after Lord Edward's arrival, 
a parcel was silently placed in his hands. Being 



3C2 xifc Of XorD Edward Witsi 

opened, it was found to contain a ir 

manifestly intended for the use of the 

chief of the projected insurrection — a 

possession, both for host and guest, whic 

concealed under a heap of goat-skins 

imprudence, too, of which Neilson i 

such as would have rendered it s 

attention not been attracted to Murpli 

it drew down upon him, probably i 

the suspicion of bad faith. The gigant 

conspirator was constantly on view, ; 

the street, now pausing at the door of ] 

unfortunate host, to bestow upon him 

fluous injunctions as to the necessity for 

Lord l\dward himself meanwhile, \ 

siixht of a party of soldiers passing d^ 

aiul niukin:: a halt before Moore's hous 

himself to a place of concealment u 

where he ^;H*nt scmik* hour^ of the after 

evenin:: vlrew on, it was considered 

fiiLritive to leave his hiding-place, and 

came vimvn to J*inner, sharing the meal 

aiul Neilsi^n. 

It was scarcely over when the latt 
movements it is always difficult to acc^ 
ijiiitted the house, leaving, it was said, 1 
open. Mur[^hy, meanwhile went doi 
Lord I\dwarvi, still ill and tired, withdre 
he occupied, where he was presently 
host, lying upon the bed, reading Gil 




Xffe of Xor5 E^watD f ft5<Benilb 303 

The end was close at hand. It was when the two 
men were together that the sound of steps became 
audible upon the stairs ; and the next moment Sirr's 
assistant, Major Swan, entered the room. Lord 
Edward had been tracked at last. 

Of the scene which followed varying accounts have 
been given. The surprise party consisted of Sirr 
himself. Swan, and eight or nine private soldiers, 
together with a Captain Ryan, *who seems to have 
accompanied the party in the character of a volunteer. 
Sirr had at first remained below, disposing of his men 
in such a manner as to frustrate any attempt which 
might be made at escape : and Swan, though closely 
followed by Ryan, entered alone the room where 
Lord Edward was discovered. 

At the first sight of the intruder Lord Edward 
sprang to his feet, and, receiving a shot from a 
pocket pistol which missed its aim, struck at his 
assailant with a dagger which had lain by him on 
the bed. 

According to the account afterwards given by Ryan's 
son. Swan — whose wound was in truth very superficial 
and was well in a fortnight — thereupon cried out, 
"Ryan, Ryan, I am basely murdered," when R}ran, 
who appears to have been a man of courage, ran in 
to his assistance, armed only with a sword-cane ; 
received what proved to be, in his case, a mortal 
wound, and continued, in spite of it, to cling to 
Lord Edward till further help arrived. 

Sirr, meanwhile, hearing from below the report of 



304 Xffe or Xord JEdwatb fttsOetaXb 

Ac pistol-shot fired by Swan on his first entrance, 
had hurried upstairs, and has left, in a letter addressed 
to the younger Ryan, a description of the scene which 
met his eyes. 

" On my arrival in view of Lord Edward," he wrote, 
^^ I beheld his lordship standing with a dagger in 
his hand, as if ready to plunge it into my friends, 
while dear Ryan, seated on the bottom step of the 
flight of the upper stairs [communicating with the 
roof], had Lord Edward grasped with both his arms 
by the 1^ and thighs, and Swan in a somewhat 
similar situation, both labouring under the torment 
of their wounds ; when, without hesitation, I fired 
at Lord Edward's dagger-arm, when the instrument 
of death fell to the ground." 

Weaponless and wounded. Lord Edward still refused 
to surrender, making a last attempt to force his way 
to the door. The soldiers, however, were called in, 
and, in spite of his desperate resistance, he was made 
prisoner, though " so outrageous was he " — to quote 
Ryan — " that the military had to cross their muskets, 
and force him down to the floor, before he could be 
overpowered and secured.*' 

Thus ended the struggle. The people's leader was 
in the hands of the enemy. On this night — possibly 
at this very hour — Magan was elected a member of 
the head Committee of the Society of United Irishmen. 



CHAPTER XIX 

1798 

Conduct when a Prisoner — Various Scenes in Dublin — 
Pamela — The Facts and her Account of Them at 
Variance— Her After-lif(&— Visit to Bar^re^-Death. 

THE capture was effixted ; the game, so far as 
Lord Edward was concerned, lost. But he was 
a man who knew how to face defeat. 

The heat and excitement of the struggle over, all his 
habitual gendeness and courtesy was apparent. He 
affected, says the Annual Regis ter^ with a sneer, in 
chronicling the event, the politeness of a courtier, and 
declared he was sorry for the wounds he had inflicted. 
It was evidendy not credible to the writer that con- 
sideration towards opponents hurt in the performance 
of their duty could be genuine in the case of a man 
whose resistance, while resistance was possible, had 
been so fierce. Those who knew him would have 
judged differendy. Insisting that the wounds of his 
adversaries should be attended to before his own, it 
was only when he had been informed, with purposeless 
exaggeration, that Ryan was dead and Swan mortally 

305 20 



3o6 life of Xotd Edward f ftsOerald 

wounded, that he consented to allow his arm to be 
dressed, adding, "It was a hard struggle — and are two 
of them gone ? " 

His own wound, on examination, was pronounced 
not to be dangerous, the announcement eliciting from 
him the solitary expression of regret that has already 
been noticed. Exhausted not alone by the pain and 
fatigue of the moment, but worn out physically and 
mentally by the constant stress and stndn of the last 
two months ; debarred from participation in the 
struggle for which he had so strenuously prepared 
the way, and rendered useless to the cause for whose 
sake he had sacrificed all the world had to offer, he may 
indeed have been willing to close his account with 
life, and to make an end of the tragedy it had become. 

At the Castle, to which he was at once taken, he 
had an interview with Lord Camden's private secretary, 
Mr. Watson, wh(^, sent by the Lord Lieutenant to 
assure the prisoner of every consideration consistent 
with the safe custody of his person, found him in the 
office of the Minister for War, looking on, pallid but 
serene, while his wounded arm was dressed. 

The secretary, a courteous and kindly official, took 
an opportunity, after delivering the message with which 
he was charged, of informing the prisoner privately that 
it was to be also his errand to convey the news of the 
arrest to Lady Edward, intimating, with every promise 
of secrecy, his readiness to be likewise the bearer of 
any confidential communication fi-om Lord Edward to 
his wife. 



Xffe of %otb £^war^ ftt$OctaXb 307 

One might almost imagine that the oflfer must 
have provoked an inward smile. Experience of the 
principles acted upon by Government with regard 
to means of obtaining information would not have 
encouraged even so confiding a spirit as that of their 
present prisoner to entrust a communication of the 
kind suggested to a Castle official, however accom- 
modating. At any rate, the proposal was courteously 
declined. 

"No, no, thank you," Lord Edward answered. 
" Nothing, nothing. Only break it to her tenderly." 

The interview with Pamela did not, after all, take 
place, since she chanced, somewhat strangely, to be 
absent from home, at a party at Moira House. The 
news of her husband's capture was therefore left by the 
secretary with her servants, and, through Lady Moira's 
thoughtful consideration, was not allowed to reach 
her till the following morning. 

It is strange, looking back over more than a 
hundred years, to caU to mind the various scenes 
which were taking place on that May evening in 
Dublin. At some of them, thanks to the detailed 
contemporary records, we can be present. There was, 
first, the desperate struggle in Thomas Street, the 
excitement of the conflict followed by the dead calm 
of irretrievable failure ; there was the party at Lady 
Moira's house, at which Pamela, still delicate after 
her baby*s birth, and little inclined, one would 
imagine, for gaiety, was assisting, charming as ever, 
and no doubt, in her ignorance of the catastrophe^ 



so8 %AU of Xort £dwatl> f it30cral5 

of which nimours must have begun to be whispered 
abroad, an object of compassion to alL Then there 
mm the Lord Lieutenant, with a pu-ty of his own 
at the theatre, where news was brought to him of 
the important capture. In an adjoining box, withiJi 
hearing of the announcement, Lady Castlereagh was 
entertaining her guests, two of the Napiers amongst 
them, of whom one^Louisa, Lady Sarah's step* 
daughter — was so much overcome that her hostess 
look her away ; while a younger sister, Emily, Lord 
Edward's own cousin — who, " poor little soul^ was 
wretched, as you may imagine *' — was not permitted 
to leave the box, lest so many abrupt departures, 
in the condition of Dublin at the time, should have 
given rise to a panic. Nor does one forget that else- 
where in the city Magan was receiving his promotion 
in the Society he had served by the betrayal of its 
chief, not impossibly stiD careworn in aspect, as Miss 
Moore had described him, and with his thoughts 
wandering from the proceedings in which he was 
taking part to the house in Thomas Street, and to 
speculations as to whether his thousand pounds were 
at length fairly earned. 

Outside, in the streets of the city, as the news 
leaked out and became public property, consternation 
was spreading. Men were collecting together in 
groups to discuss the event, or were seen hurrying 
from one part of the town to the other ; and some 
of the more desperate and more daring were arming 
themselves with pikes, in the forlorn hope of effect- 




.r^-liii^- t^^JJ^ii^^Jt^€^ vte^^. ■' •^j'*•■^4'',^^X4l4■^ 



Xffe of %otb £^war^ yit3®etaI^ 309 

ing a rescue — a hope perforce relinquished when it 
became known that their leader had been akeady 
removed from the Castle to the securer precincts 
of Newgate Jail, a stronghold to which no follower, 
however loyal, could force an entrance. 

Upon Lord Edward*s family the intelligence of 
the arrest fell like a thunderbolt Well informed as 
to his movements as the Government had been, in 
comparison, and though, according to Miss Moore's 
account of his interview with Mr. Ogilvie, his step- 
father at least must have been aware of his presence in 
Dublin, the rest of his relations were strongly con- 
vinced that he had effected his escape, and was safe 
out of the country. Lady Louisa herself, though 
ever prone to fears, had scarcely felt alarm at the 
reward offered by Government for his apprehension. 
In this instance it was clear that Pamela had kept 
her own counsel ; and it may have been to the 
necessity of avoiding the appearance of anxiety that 
her presence at Moira House on the night of the 
arrest had been due. 

Pamela herself, though apparently dazed by the 
blow — " her head seemed still deranged," wrote Lady 
Louisa — had borne it better than had been expected. 
She was indeed described by Colonel Napier, from whom 
she received a visit in the course of the next day, as 
keeping up her spirits and bearing her misfortunes like 
a heroine — a form of encomium which one may be 
pardoned for believing would have specially commended 
itself to the subject of the tribute. It is clear that the 



3IO life 0t Xotb £&warb fitiOocaXb 

courage she displayed was only explicable to the narrator 
by the hypothesis of her ignorance of the gravity of the 
situation. " Alas ! " he added, writing to Mr. Ogilvie, 
now back again in England, " she does not know what 
I dread to be true, that Government have strong and 
even indubitable proofs of ireasen.^^ 

Again the question repeats itself — ^Was Colonel 
Napier right ? Was Pamela strangely, incredibly, 
blind ? Did she in truth succeed in deceiving herself 
as to the degree of her husband's culpability in the 
eyes of those who had his life in their hands ? Or 
did her powers of concealing what she knew, even now 
that the crisis was reached and the blow had fallen, 
from those to whom Lord Edward was scarcely less 
dear than to herself, amount almost to genius? 

At any rate, she was winning golden opinions. In 
the letter alre:idy quoted, dated two days after the 
capture, Colonel Napier again makes mention of her. 
After iiitorniing Ogilvie that George Ponsonby and 
Curran were to he Lord Edward's counsel, and adding 
the warning that the former " feared the event," he 
expresses his hope that poor, dear, intrepid Lady 
I\dward " will cross to England, in obedience to the 
orders of the iVivy Council, Ponsonby being of opinion 
that she could he of no use in Dublin." 

The statement requires explanation. The part 
played hy i\u'nela during the brief remainder of her 
hushand's life is perplexing in the extreme, and 
may he disposed of here. Of the aflectionate nature of 
their relations there can be no doubt. Lord Edward 



Xite of %ot^ B^wacd fit5<Beral^ 3x1 

had more than once, during the weeks that he passed 
in hiding, risked his life in order to visit her ; his 
mother*s evidence remains to testify that he "adored 
her" ; and if further proof were wanting, it would be 
furnished by the will, drawn up in prison, bequeathing 
to his wife all he possessed, " as a mark of my esteem, 
love, and confidence in her," and constituting her 
likewise sole guardian of his children. 

That Pamela loved him as much as she was capable 
of loving there is also no reason to doubt ; nor is 
there a trace of any cloud upon their married life. Yet 
that she should have brought herself, though in " sad 
distress," to obey the orders of the Government — them- 
selves difficult of comprehension in their extreme and 
wanton severity — when, judging by the phrasing of 
Colonel Napier's letter, disobedience had not been 
altogether out of the question, is a fact which seems 
scarcely credible. 

Nevertheless, on May 22 nd, not more than three 
days after the arrest. Lady Louisa Conolly was able to 
announce to her sister that the departure of her 
nephew's wife for England was finally determined 
upon ; that the hopes entert^ned by Pamela of being 
permitted to share her husband's prison had been 
already relinquished ; and, strangest of all, when Lady 
Louisa had made a further and vain attempt to 
obtain for his wife the privilege of a single farewell 
interview — a request which, if pressed, the Irish 
Government itself would have found difficult to 
refuse — Pamela had negatived the suggestion, on the 



312 life of %ot6 £^war^ fttsOeralb 

score of a fear lest such an indulgence might be the 
means of causing an accession of fever to the prisoner. 
This curious and, again, almost incredible instance 
of prudence on her part, implies a realisation of his 
condition rendering it still more incomprehensible that 
she should have consented to put the sea between 
them. 

Explain the matter as we may, the fact remains that 
before a week was over — on the Thursday following 
the capture — ^Pamela had yielded to a mandate which 
it may be believed that, with public opinion to con- 
sider, ministers would have hesitated to enforce in 
the face of a determined resistance, and had left her 
husband behind, wounded, a prisoner, and in danger 
of his life from other causes. Whatever may have 
been the motives which decided her, or her advisers, 
upon the step, they will strike the ordinary mind as 
insufficient. Not more than ten days after she had 
quitted Dublin, Lord Edward was dead. 

It is fair to add that it does not appear to have 
occurred to her husband's relations to criticise her 
conduct. On the contrary, while his mother was 
preparing, be the condition of the country what it 
might, to come to Ireland; while Henry FitzGerald 
was hurrying over to Dublin to share, if it might 
be, his brother's cell ; while his aunt was besi^ng 
the authorities with entreaties to be allowed admission 
to the prison, and, though only at the eleventh hour, 
gained her point, the absence of his wife seems to 
have been accepted on all hands as natural, or at 



Xtte of %oxh lEbwwtb fltiOctsXb 313 

least inevitable. Tender as is every allusion to her, 
pitiful in her forlorn condition, all appear to have been 
agreed that she was better away. 

There were doubtless reasons — sentiment apart — 
making it expedient that Pamela should cross the 
Channel. The prejudice, according to Lady Louisa, 
prevailing against her from the first as a French- 
woman — no doubt amongst ministerialists — had so 
much increased that it was considered safer for her 
to be out of the country. This statement is further 
explained by an entry in Lady Holland's diary, dated 
June loth, to the effect that it had been notified to 
Lord Edward's wife that in case of disobedience 
she would herself be arrested and tried, evidence 
suflicient being forthcoming to hang her. Lady 
Holland adds that Pamela had been willing to stand 
her trial, provided she was permitted to share her 
husband's prison. This being refused, she had been 
compelled to come to England, accompanied by her 
two children, with a passport limiting her stay.* 

Allowing for some exaggeration, and observing that 
the mistake in the number of the children does not 
indicate an intimate acquaintance with the facts, it 
still remains possible that a certain amount of intimida- 
tion may have been resorted to by the authorities. 
This should be allowed its weight in judging of 
Pamela's conduct at this crisis. But there is yet 
another curious circumstance to be noted in connection 
with the aflfair — namely, the entire disagreement of 
^ Li/e and LttUrt of Lady Sarah Lennox (Appendix). 



314 Xife of Xord le^watt fit$0€taXb 

the account of the matter apparently given by Pamela 
in later days with that furnished by contemporaneous 
letters, by which the question of her movements is 
placed beyond all doubt. Hers was a totally different 
tale — a story, it is necessary to add, so manifesdy 
false, tested both by external and internal evidence, in 
some of its features, that it is impossible, however 
charitably disposed, to view this version of the affair 
in any other light but that of a romance in which, 
by an after-thought, she assigned to herself the part 
which she would have desired in retrospect to play. 
That Pamela, as she asserted, sold her jewels and 
attempted to bribe the jailer is probable enough. She 
was generous and open-handed, and was not likely 
to have spared money in such a case. It has even 
been suggested that an endeavour to bribe the Newgate 
officials may furnish a possible explanation of the 
otherwise inexplicable severity of the Government in 
banishing her from Ireland. But of the interview 
with her husband she appears to have represented 
herself as obtaining, with its melodramatic colour- 
ing, there exists no faintest independent proof, and 
it must be dismissed as either an hysterical delusion 
or as a pure result of the inventive faculty of Madame 
de Genlis's pupil. ^ 

So Lord Edward's wife disappears from his history — - 
a graceful, slight figure, not without a delicate charm 
of her own, but most unfit for the stormy scenes 

* See Madden's United Irishmen for the authority on which this 
story rests. 



Xtte of Xotb £&warb f ftsOeral^ 31s 

with which she had been associated in France and 
Ireland alike, and incapable of grappling with life in its 
harsher aspects. 

It is not necessary to follow her through her 
subsequent history — her marriage with the American 
Consul at Hamburg, her separation from her husband, 
and the events which marked her after-life. One 
glimpse of her will be enough, and it is still in 
character. 

Thirty years after Lord Edward's death it occurred 
to her one day — the motive of the disguise is not 
apparent — to visit her early friend, Barire, in the 
character of her own maid. Recognising in his guest 
the girl to whom, nearly forty years ago, he had acted 
the part, required by French law, of "guardian," on 
the occasion of her marriage, he produced a portrait 
of herself which he had preserved, and showed it 
to her. 

" c/^, mon DieUy* she exclaimed, no longer attempt- 
ing to keep up the farce of her incognito, " comme 
fetats jolie ! " b^ging the miniature of him, in order 
that she might prove to another friend how great 
her past beauty had been. 

A year later she died, worth only a hundred 
francs. The husband from whom she had separated 
paid her debts, and the funeral was provided by her 
old playfellow, Madame Adelaide. 



zy^^jmji XX 



";•? 












nfii^ aai sx 



:5^ £:;>-;r.iJC?5 f- 






1^5- 



La-i 
s TD tie goo: 






to obciis 
tTA. •r'!!: 5:jcfi ti=>c is t 



Xife of %otb Ebwatb ^it3(^etalb 317 

The Duke of Richmond — moved, as Lord Holland 
hints, to the greater zeal in the matter by the remem- 
brance of some past acts of unkindness — was urging 
upon Pitt the necessity of postponement ; and, writing 
to Lord Henry FitzGerald, he added, after enumer- 
ating the obvious dangers which would attend an 
immediate trial, that he convinced himself that the 
thing was impossible, and that reasonable delay would 
be allowed. Fox, who is described as " extremely 
agitated " about his cousin, though personally of 
opinion that his presence in Ireland would be more 
detrimental than favourable to Lord Edward's cause, 
held himself, with Lord Holland, in readiness to cross 
the Channel without delay, should it be otherwise 
decided by better judges. 

Pressure was also to be brought to bear upon those 
in high places, to induce them to exert themselves 
upon the prisoner's behalf 

The Duchess at the feet of the King — such was 
Colonel Napier's opinion — might do more than 
politicians or lawyers. Let her therefore stop at no 
forms or refusals, and never quit him till a pardon was 
obtained. It was known that the Duke of York had 
entertained a personal liking for Lord Edward, and 
had attempted, though in vain, to obtain the cancelling 
of his expulsion from the army ; while the Prince of 
Wales, in a letter full of kindly sympathy for the 
disaster which had overtaken the Leinster family, 
alluded to the arch-rebel as " the unfortunate Edward," 
and authorised Mr. Ogilvie to intimate to Lord Clare 



the satisfaction which would be afforded him by such 
a delay as might ensure ** poor Lord Edward ** an 
impartial trial. 

" This, my dear sir," added the Prince, " I have no 
scruple to admit of your stating in confidence, and 
with my best compliments to the Lord ChanceUw. 
My long and sincere r^ard for both the Duchess and 
Duke of Leinster would have naturally made me 
wish to exert myself still more, were I not afraid by 
such exertion I might do more harm than good.**^ 

Dublin itself had not accepted passively the loss of 
the popular leader ; and a plot having his rescue for 
its object had been organised by Neilson — poor, 
violent, irresponsible Neilson, to whose rashness and 
folly Lord Edward*s capture has been partly attributed. 
It is impossible not to feel compassion for this member 
of the dramaiis pcrson.f of the tragedy, void of 
principle as he was, now breaking his pledges to 
(jovernment, by whom he had been released from 
prison upon his undertaking to join no treasonable 
conspiracy ; now trafficking with its agents, not 
impossibly with the intention of paying them back in 
their own coin of treachery ; at another time crying 

' It is a curious testimony to the affection which Lord Edward seems 
to have had the special faculty of inspiring in all who were tuDugfat 
into personal contact with him that it is said that, on the Prince's first 
interview with the Duchess at this time, he wept with the tenderness 
ol a woman in speaking of him, giving her further the promise that 
his friend's little s(jn should not be forgotten by him. It was a promise 
he fulfilled later on, not only by his attitude in the matter of the 
attainder, but by appointing the boy, so soon as he left school, to be a 
cornet in his own regiment. 



Xife of Xor^ £&wart> ^ftsOetalt) 319 

like a child over the body of a dead comrade ; and 
at the present moment imperilling his own safety by 
haunting the jail in which his leader was confined, 
until warned by signs from the sympathetic deputy 
jailor of the risk he was incurring. It was unlikely 
that a plot organised by such a head should attain its 
end ; nor was it probable that the Government, once 
in possession of Lord Edward's person, would allow 
him to slip through its fingers. The conspiracy, at 
any rate, made known to the authorities by means of 
a priest, was easily brought to nought. 

But while all these efforts, at home and in London, 
were being made on his behalf; while the news of 
his capture had fallen like a thunderbolt upon the 
hundreds of thousands throughout the country who 
had looked to him as their leader ; while the unhappy 
people, left almost without guidance, but still passion- 
ately refusing to relinquish hope, were rising here 
and there, to fling themselves in desperation on the 
troops, — while all this and much more was going on 
outside, and hearts were breaking for him, the prisoner 
himself, within the walls of his quiet cell at Newgate, 
was preparing to render unnecessary the endeavours 
of his friends to secure him a fair trial. Before the 
Prince of Wales's letter had been written, he had made 
good his escape to a place where the arm of the law 
was powerless to reach him, and where eternal Justice 
would try his cause. 

For the first few days after his arrest, although the 
baU in his arm could not be extracted, his condition 



330 xtfe of %otb iBbwatb flt3^etaSb 

had caused but little anxiety. The heat of the 
May weather was, however, unfiivourable to his re- 
covery, and certain other injuries, especially a wound 
in the neck inflicted by a drummer when the affray 
was over, caused him additional suflfering. 

For information as to his state his family were 
compelled to content themselves with second-hand 
reports, the Government being inexorable in its 
refusal to permit the visits of either relations or 
friends. It is, therefore, only through the medium of 
those admitted to him on the strength of their bdng 
neither the one nor the other that any details as 
to the earlier days of his imprisonment are to be 
obtained. Yet, even under these circumstances, every 
one of the few facts recorded bear witness to the 
same spirit of gentleness, consideration, and courtesy 
bv which ho had ever been distinguished. 

One ot* his first visitors seems to have been the 
son o\ a tVieiul of Lord Clare's. Gaining admission 
to the prison on the plea of business with Murphy — 
also continevl in Newgate, and chancing to be a tenant 
of his father's — he contrived to obtain access to the 
seconvl and more important captive as well ; when 
Lord lulward, remembering a blow he had seen 
his unfortunate host receive during the struggle 
in Thomas Street, enquired faintly after "poor 
Murphy's face/' Lord Holland, too, records as an 
instance of his cousin's sweetness of nature the 
deln)nair good humour with which he took leave 
of another guest — one of his bitterest enemies — who 



Xite of %ot^ £^war^ f it3GeraI^ 331 

had visited him, for what purpose is not stated, in 
his mangled condition. 

" I would shake hands with you willingly," said 
the prisoner, ** but mine are cut to pieces. However, 
ril shake a toe, and wish you good-bye." 

He was careful to acquit of all malice Major Sirr, 
from whom his principal wound had been received, 
differing in this respect from some others who have 
dealt with the subject, and have directed their in- 
vective at a man who, after aU, did nothing but 
his duty.^ 

But while each of the few details preserved con- 
cerning these days of suffering, bodily and mental, 
and of disappointment and loneliness, bear the same 
impress, and point to the absence of any trace of 
resentment or bitterness, it was not to the men who 
alone were allowed access to him that the prisoner 
would be likely to confide his true anxieties, his 
fears or hopes ; or would speak of himself and the 
cause he had championed. Only when his lips were 
unsealed by delirium did the thoughts find vent by 
which it is not possible to doubt that he had been 

^ As an example of similar justice done to Sirr by another member 
of the family, an entry in Moore's diary, dated August, 1830, may be 
dted, in which he describes a visit from the Duke of Leinster of that 
day who called upon the poet, on behalf of Lady Campbell, Lord 
Edward's daughter, to request him— for what reason does not appear — 
to postpone the publication of the biography upon which he was theo 
engaged. While the Duke was still with him, Major Sirr, by a curious 
coincidence, left a card upon Moore, when the latter discovered that his 
visitor was known to the Duke, who considered him *Mn his way a 
good sort of man.** 

21 



life cf loc^ Edward SitsOettdb 

:Yircs;sir*i:y rursucvi during those uncompanioned hours 
y jcto ^,i:c:, !vIIow:ng upon the excitement of the 
Txxvc •'^ weeks* when the mind^ in the exhaustion of 
•^vc^ r-c ro;-:, Tiust have been haunted, as the day 
t\L-i vr :?c rs;r^ come 2nd went, bjr the images of 
I.: *a: ••* ^'t: -xr r^k-ng pbce outside his silent prison. 
Of.'* ■• :^c --Twor.sc-ousness of fever did he rave, 
•oi .'f '^ ^ v'w-^ jXT.lous condition, nor of those he 
o^o. M.- WV-* — K-'f his mother, or Pamela, or his 
' • w . * crv" — .''w: of Dublin in flames, of militia 
I 'v- ---xrv Fsrai^ri^ in spirit from his prison 
.V . •« •*.•• '\^: -^^i h-rr:>^;f to be leading on the 
•v'\-.v • :*. *^":. i'd wa5 heard crj"ing out, on the 
.^v- -^ v.vv • ^ uju:h, .:: a voice so loud that the 
oov- ■..u'o. :*j c^r^ of h:s fellow-prisoners, and 
*^ w\* c /.>•.-, r-.'-L:— ru". and sullen, gathered in 
^ . -. "J'-: v^', jo'r.e on I Damn 

'. ^• •.. u::, in its dealings 

- ^.. -.\j-.*.v criiicised. Those 

- ^ ,.'_:. •-■--. h.ive been accused 

^ . . •-.- ' .--ii^russ. In forming 

- .., : .s r.ecessary to take 

. , .,, <.:ua:ion, the critical 

.. ' ^ . - :-.' country, the immi- 

... ./.... ^^ und the menacing 

. . :>..: :: •> impossible, while 

..-, -^ ^s.\;w;-.: ihe authorities of at 

.^^ .: -•<. ".vC of that consideration 

.,.-..'•' .1 > v'v /..i.i, ,i> :he event proved. 



Xite of %ovb £^wat^ f itsGeral^ 323 

a dying man, common humanity and kindness might 
have been expected to dictate. 

The course they pursued in declining to admit, 
up to a few hours before the end, any single friend 
to the prisoner, even to the exclusion of his wife, 
may have been pardonable in men acting under the 
influence of panic.^ The refusal to permit a personal 
interview with his lawyer for the purpose of drawing 
up a will may be explained and justified on the 
like grounds. The removal, on the day preceding 
his death, of the officer who had been placed in 
charge of him, and for whom, with his characteristic 
readiness to attach himself to those about him, he had 
conceived a liking, may be interpreted as a tribute to 
his singular power, so often mentioned, of inspiring 
affection in those with whom he was brought into 
personal relationship, and a consequent and pardonable 
measure of precaution. But it is impossible to advance 
the same excuses for the fact, disgraceful to all con- 
cerned, that so little heed was paid to his condition 
and the consideration it demanded, that an execution 
was allowed to take place, on the day before his 
death, at the very door of the prison, the ominous 
sounds attending it being audible in his cell. 

^ The assertion that Lady Louisa ConoUy was granted an earlier 
interview with her nephew besides that which took place a few hours 
before he died, seems to be clearly contradicted, not only by her own 
letters, but by that addressed by Lord Henry FitzGerald to Lord 
Camden, in which, recapitulating his causes of complaint against the 
Government, he includes in the list the refusal to allow his family 
admission to the prison until his brother was in a moribund condition. 



'• Wha: no:se is that : " he questioned eagerly ; and 
>v^ ^rv.:: a ^rock was the answer given that, praying 
car::c>:ly :ha: God would pardon and receive all who 
r\.\ :r the vMuse ot ihcir countrj% he sank forthwith 
-.".tv^ the ur.c^^r.SviousncHS ot delirium. 

hor the ovcrsicht to which this last occurrence 
wa> attrbutevi by Lord Clare it is just to say that he 
c\:rc>'-;.i r:> rc^Tct to Henry FitzGerald, adding the 
a>N.:-a::.c — .i Sv>nicwh.it singular one — that it should 
r.. : h-ippcr. a^M-n. But that the incident should have 
:.ik^!: r ace unknown to the authorities cannot but be 
v\ "> .iircJ. a ^rr-injc cor.tcssion on the part of those 
vM-^L.: w::*'. the ir.arUjjcment of affairs. 

i ^:vj vAJv-; ::o!\ >hou:d be noted to the rule of 

w\. .;.>.:' ;.:'.:vTwtv: aj^air.s: all who might be supposed 

tv^ 'U; .i yvr>o:'..i! ir.tcrcst in the prisoner. Lord 

} V. .^ : -t". v.: ::'c rr.-.i.istr.itions of the family 

i • . 1^:1 :-;..: :«^ .ivail himself of those 

■ • . . . • : *. ;.. ! :r..'.y jH^NN-bly aflbrd a clue 

. .V : '.^ .:..:..'.jc::cc, and pomts to the 

. .^ ■ . ....: . «: .:ic> may have had good 

•...>. •:••.-. A.i:..^:'. i^r" rhcir severity in &vour 



1 '..X. 



^ 








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.•-w ' 


./v V. 


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. . V • 


Ot' 


1 . • 


vi V. : 


'". %i 


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..:: -^ic- u.iN in England, detained 
\ the critical condition of his wife, 
rc\: o:\\y a few months later, and 
..>r. {or his hot-headed brother, over 
I'f him afterwards as " often crying." 
tile strength of whose feelings had, 
cr^ibereJi, forced him to quit Dublin 



Xffe of Xor& £t)war& f ft3(BeraI& 335 

some weeks earlier, there is no mention. His mother, 
whose fortitude, wrote her brother, added a respect 
and dignity to her sufFerings that no heart could resist, 
ignorant of any imminent danger, set out for Ireland 
too late. But Henry FitzGerald, only delaying long 
enough to make a vain attempt to obtain from the 
Duke of Portland an order admitting him to the 
prison, crossed the Channel at once, to try what could 
be done on the spot. 

He had been given to understand that his brother's 
wound caused no anxiety. On his arrival in Dublin, 
however, he learnt from the surgeons in attendance 
that the prisoner, though considered by them to be 
making good progress, had been in danger a few days 
earlier. Of the measures he took, under these cir- 
cumstances, to induce the authorities to allow him 
access to his brother's cell he has himself given an 
account in a letter to Lord Gimden, written the day 
after Lord Edward's death, in which he arraigns, with 
passionate bitterness, the whole conduct of the Govern- 
ment towards the dead. 

"I implored, I entreated of you to let me see 
him," he wrote. " I never begged hard before." 
It was in vain. The Lord Lieutenant remained 
as inexorable as Lord Clare, to whom he had pre- 
viously addressed himself. 

For the present there seemed, at all events, no 

^ pressing cause for anxiety. Even so late as Friday, 

June 1st, the accounts of the prisoner's condition 

were still reassuring, although the news of Captain 



— - ^«SiTlc^ 












Xite ot Xor& JEDward f it3(Beral& 3^7 

to gain access for a few moments to Lord Edward, 
then in the unconsciousness of deUrium, but had 
managed to convey a warning of his condition to his 
brother. " Seeing you, or any friend he has con- 
fidence in, would, I think, be more conducive to his 
recovery than fifty surgeons," wrote his fellow-captive, 
adding the curious assurance, " We'll watch him as 
well as is in our power." 

But the time was fiist coming when the prisoner 
would stand in need of neither watching nor care — 
neither the loving, impotent care of those in like 
case with himself as they listened to the ravings which 
reached their ears through the thick walls ; nor of 
that of poor Henry FitzGerald, half maddened by 
the thought of his brother, " possessed of the 
tenderness of a woman to all whom he loved," left 
alone in his hour of greatest need ; nor yet of the 
watchful care of the Government, who, guard him 
as they might, could not shut the prison door against 
the great deliverer. 

He was not, after all, to die without a sight of 
a familiar face. Information had been sent to Lady 
Louisa ConoUy of the condition of her nephew ; 
and she made a last despairing efiFort to move the 
Lord Lieutenant from the almost incredible harshness 
of his attitude. But she made it in vain. With 
the dogged obstinacy of a weak man he refused, in 
spite of her entreaties, to cancel the orders of ex- 
clusion. 

" I who never before knelt to aught save my 



IdcfCXcce gg wiB yK36enifr 




«rjjt--- - £-T-i^-jM c rriir =a=i s test in vtn." 

A a>- rTr^^^trt. •r^^rrcr. su^ggcsticd :3c!f «> the 
r. r:*, £.— .-^T Nif' sr, ry w-rci she hii bwcn accom- 
ra- td :-. r.^r fr_--<s* --«C- Ir »:ss thit, as a last 
rr?.:--;-. ir. irreil :: •>« Oiisoellor should be 

I- r-. r".: r.iv- iccrr.^^i a tbrlom hope, since eariier 
:r — * iav he hii rt;«c:ed ^he petition oT the dving 
mr * '^rzrr.tr, r-: :: wis mcd- Dinner was scarcdr 
0V-- •*;-?-: :- i :---?e wis r«cr.s^i ; znd Lord Clart, 
co-r.:r^ :-: :o Liiv Lcuin*'* carrio^, listened, not 
w:Tr.o-: cr::::^r.. :? her er-trcanr. After a moment's 
cor.-. imTio". re rr^ie answer :har, though it was out 
of the q-c-t:or: fV him to ^.ve her the order for 
5 :''•••"-;. -L :, •: V v^^ :: 'i-'.t express iedsion 
'* • <^ - - ., - ^t -. :-L-L WA^ r.o such obstacle 
*' :- • -- Vi-: -J -;;- -:::>clf to the prison. 

I ' ^ '. ' *, i> - i -.vA-i it ier^th, only just 

:r. •:-.'., \v-..' _: rV :-: :".>-c who h;ii so persistently 

Cil;- J .ir L'j\.\^''jr llo\i>\: for Lord Henrv on 
the w.i\, 1,1 :y L<)..:-a proccCvieJ at once to Newgate, 
t^.ortc 1 i»y riu- Charucllor, who, arrived at the prison, 
dcurc! the cell ot'ull other witnesses, himself remaining 
aj'iirt, tryinif like a woman at the sight of the dying 
man. It is one thing to compass a man*s death, 
another to see him die; and it is curious to contrast 
the LlianLellor's present attitude with the letter in 



Xffe of Xor& £t)war& f ft3(BeraI5 3^9 

which, not a fortnight earlier, he had congratulated 
himself upon the prospect of obtaining such evidence 
as would enable the Government to bring the arch- 
rebel, at the head of the other leading traitors, to 
justice. 

The visit had been well timed. The delirium of 
fever had passed into the quiet exhaustion preceding 
the end. That evening Lord Edward had asked 
the surgeon who was attending him to read to him 
the Death of our Lord ; had, as Lady Louisa ex- 
pressed it, ** composed his dear mind with prayer " ; 
and now recognised with tranquil satisfaction his 
brother and his aunt. 

** It is heaven to me to see you," he said, the 
words marking, better than any complaint, what 
the previous loneliness had been to his clinging and 
loving spirit. 

" I can't see you," he objected soon afterwards ; 
then, when Lady Louisa shifted her position so 
as to bring herself within his range of vision, he 
kissed her hand, and smiled at her, " which I shall 
never forget," she told Mr. Ogilvie, describing to him 
the scene, '^ though I saw death in his dear face at 
the time." 

She might well see it. He had already reached a 
place to which the echoes of this troublesome world 
penetrate but fiiintly, and where the violence of grief 
and joy is hushed. Though he had imagined Henry 
FitzGerald to be still in England, he expressed no 
surprise at his presence, only a quiet content, as the 



330 Xffe of lotD £^wat^ fitsOcmVb 

two brothers who had been so dear to one another 
in life met and kissed in the shadow of death. 

*'That is very pleasant," he answered, on hearing 
they were alone ; falling back into silence while he 
was told of his wife's safe journey to England, and 
of her meeting with his brother on the road. 

" And the children, too ? " he asked, adding 
vaguely, " She is a charming woman." 

'* I knew it must come to this," he said dreamily, 
" and we must all go." Then, his mind wandering 
fi^om the present to the past, with all its schemes 
and hopes and calculations, he rambled a little, busy 
again with militia and numbers, till his aunt begged 
him not to agitate himself by talking of such subjects. 

" Well, I won't," he said obediently, and presendy 
fell once more into a condition of drowsy silence, 
his eyes resting the while with full contentment on 
his brother's fece. 

The time to leave him came. Lord Clare was 
waiting. There was nothing more to say, nothing 
to be done. 

'^ We told him/' said Lady Louisa, " that as he 
appeared inclined to sleep we would wish him good- 
night and return in the morning. He said, * Do, 
do,' but did not express any uneasiness at our 
leaving him." 

The pain of separation, the supreme bitterness 
of death, for him was over. 

And so he parted from his friends. Gently, as 
he had lived, he was dying. Not three hours after 



Xffe of XorD E&war& f it3©eral& 331 

Lady Louisa had wished him good-night, he was 
indeed sleeping well, for his spirit had passed away.^ 

At dead of night they carried him, three days later, 
to his burial ; fearing lest, in their grief and indigna- 
tion, the people who had loved him might be moved 
to some act of desperate vengeance. They had reason 
to fear it. 

For a Chief 

Grief 
Weeps with a sword. 

**For US," wrote Wolfe Tone, the comrade who, 
knowing him little, honoured him much — ** for us who 
remain as yet, and may perhaps soon follow him, the 
only way to lament his death is to endeavour to 
revenge it." 

The conduct of the Government towards him 
whilst yet living was consistently carried out, by the 
neglect of those in authority to pay ordinary respect 
to the dead by supplying the promised guard, to 
secure the funeral from molestation at the hands of 
the Orangemen employed to patrol the streets. The 
coffin was, in consequence, stopped no less than four 
times as it passed from Newgate to St. Werburgh's 
Church, in charge of the young officer to whom 
it was entrusted — the same who had had the care of 

1 The statement made in a paper written by Miss Emfly Napier 
(see Appendix to Life and Letters ^of Lady Sarah Lennox) to the 
effect that Lady Louisa and Lord Henry remained until all was over, 
is clearly contradicted both by Lady Louisa's own account and by the 
letter of the surgeon to her announdng the death : " He drew his 
last breath at two o'dock this morning, after a struggle that began 
soon after his friends left him last night" 



332 Xffe of Xot^ £&wart) fitsOctalb 

the prisoner till the day preceding his death, and 
who, with a man named Shiel, probably a servant 
of the FitzGeralds, was the single mourner by whom 
he was accompanied to his grave. It was only at 
two o'clock in the morning that, orders having been 
tardily despatched from the Castle to that eflfect, the 
melancholy procession was permitted to reach its 
destination, and the coffin was placed below the 
chancel of the church. 

The arrangement was intended at the time to be 
merely temporarj'. There, however, it has remained 
ever since, standing by itself in a small, white-washed 
vault, one of many which honeycomb the ground below 
the building. Above the entrance to these vaults there 
have been found, built into the southern wall of the 
church, sculptured figures bearing the arms of the 
Gcraldines. Upon the outer case of the coffin, added 
some thirty years ago, is now inscribed the name of the 
Jciul, with the dates of birth and death. But the story is 
told, with what amount of truth it is impossible to say, 
that seeking in vain, long years after the funeral had 
taken place, to identify her father's coffin, Lord Edward's 
daughter was referred to an old and dying pauper. 
From him she learnt that, hanging about the precincts 
of the prison on that June night, he had watched six 
men carry forth the coffin containing all that was left 
of the people's leader ; that he had followed it to its 
resting-place, had stolen into the vault where it was laid, 
and, remaining behind alone with the dead, had scratched 
upon it with a nail the initials E. F. It is further 



Xife of Xott) Edward fttjOecaR) 333 

related that, returning to the church. Lady Gunpbell 
found the coffin as described, its solitary mark of 
identification being the letters traced by the pauper's 
hand. 

So Edward FitzGerald lived and died and was 
buried. 

There is a l^end of his race which tells how, every 
seven years, there nuy be seen an Earl of Kildare, 
who rides across the Curragh on a white charger, 
silver-shod. And the people say that when the shoes 
of the horse are worn off, his master will return to 
destroy the enemies of Ireland. But whether or not, 
in days to come, any Geraldine shall ever again set 
himself to carry on the old tradition, it is certain 
that no purer or more gallant and chivalrous spirit 
will ever rise to champion the oppressed than breathed 
in Lord Edward FitzGerald. 

Whether he is to be regarded as hero or criminal, 
patriot or traitor, must be determined, as Southcy 
declared, by a reference to the maxims of eternal 
morality and positive law. It is a question each man 
will decide for himself But whatever the answer 
may be, it cannot be denied that he was, in the phrase- 
ology of the same writer, a martyr of rebellion. It 
is as a martyr that his memory has been kept green 
by the Irish people. 

" For Edward's precious blood," said O'Connor 
bitterly, " not even the semblance of an inquinition 
has been had." 

He was wrong. For the blood of Edward Vkt- 



134 Xik of XorO Btnmnrd #ft5®eniR> 

Gerald inqumtion has been made by every generation 
ot hts coutttnrmen since the day when he lay dead 
m hxs Newgate celL 

And who shall pronounce him wholly unfortunate ? 

He died^ indeed^ in the flower of his manhood, a 

champion of a lost cause, a soldier in the ranks of a 

bcitcn armv. But his life was given for that which he 

held to be worthy of the sacrifice. Living, he was 

surrounded bv a band of comrades who, iidiatever mi^t 

be their tailings were as free from petty jealousies of 

cbs$ xnd creeds igtK>ble personal ambitions, and sordid 

prvite gruJ*ges as any that ever gathered under the 

biLriricrs of h:s ancestors ; and he died — more fortunate 

that^ some who have occupied his place in the affections 

of 1 c^r.crous warm-hearted, and unstable people — 

cr»v.v'vrd<:?evl Sy the love and the fealty of the nation 



APPENDIX A 

FUNERAL OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 

The following letters from Lady Louisa ConoUy are 
cvuious evidence of the indifference and negligence 
of the ministerial officials with regard to Lord 
Edward's funeral. The first was docketed by Lord 
Henry FitzGerald : " From Lady Louisa ConoUy, 
in consequence of a complaint made to her of 
the indecent neglect in Mr. Cook's office, by Mr. 
Leeson. A guard was to have attended at Newgate, 
the night of my poor brother's burial, in order to 
provide against all interruption from the different 
guards and patroles in the streets : — it never arrived, 
which caused the funeral to be several times stopped 
in its way, so that the burial did not take place till 
near two in the morning, and the people attending 
[were] obliged to stay in the church until a pass could 
be procured to enlarge them." 

Lady Louisa Conolly to the Hon. John 
Leeson. 

Castletown, yi/K^ 13/A, 1798. 
Dear Sir, — 

I received both your letters, and acquainted the Lord 
Lieutenant with the neglect in Mr. Cook's office, as I thought it 
right that he should know it, to prevent mischief for the future 

335 



136 



Bl^pett&fE 



OQ tuch occusiofis* The grief I have beeci in, and still do fied^ 
n m RDUch abmc any other sematiofi, that the want of t^^teot to 
mj ftettngf on that melanchaly occasion was not worth aiif 
notice. 

Dear sir* your htiiBbk sen'ant, 

JL O. CoNOLLir- 

Lady Louisa Conollv to William Ogilvie, Esq. 

, . . The dear rematns were deposited by Mr. Bourne in St 
Wet burgh Churchy yntil the liiues woald peruiit of their being 
removed to the family vault at Kildajre, I ordered ever>thiiig 
upon that ocaision that appeared to me to be right, ooosidering 
all the heart-breaking circumstances belongmg to the event; 
and I WEi guided by the feelings which I am persuaded our 
beloved angel would have had upon the same occasionj had he 
been to direct for mtt as it feH to my lot to do for Aim. 1 well 
knew that to run the smallest risk of shedding ame drop of Sh^ 
by any riot intervening upon that mournful occasion, would be 
the thing of all others that would vex him most ; and knowing 
A\m how much he despised all outward show, I submitted to 
what I thought prudence required. The impertinence and 
neglect (in Mr. Cook*s office) of orders (notwithstanding Lord 
Casilereagh had arranged cver^ihing as 1 wished it) had nearly 
caused what I had taken such pains to avoid. However^ happily^ 
nothing happened ; but I informed Lord Camden of the neglect, 
for the sake rif nthi^rs, and l^i riri-vint mivrbief nn oth^^r rtrca^ions^ 
where a similar neglect might have such bad consequences. 
You may easily believe that my grief absorbed all other feelings, 

and Mr. is too insignificant even to be angry at. At any 

other time than this his impertinence might amuse one, but now 
it passes unnoticed. 



APPENDIX B 

THE BILL OF ATTAINDER 

The Attorney-General, Toler, brought in a Bill 
of Attainder, for the purpose of confiscating Lord 
Edward FitzGerald's property, on July 27th, 1798. 
After much discussion it was read for the third time 
in the Irish House of Commons, and passed by a 
majority of 42 to 9. Having also been passed by 
the House of Lords, it was sent to England in 
September for the Royal Assent, which it received 
in October, in spite of a petition presented to the 
King by Lord Henry FitzGerald, as guardian to 
the children, and the Duke of Richmond, Charles 
James Fox, William Ogilvie, Henry Edward Fox, 
and Lord Holland, as their near relations. A separate 
petition was also presented by their grandmother, the 
Duchess of Leinster. The sequel as regards the estate 
may be told in Moore's words. " Lord Clare having, 
with the approbation of the Government, allowed the 
estate to be sold in Chancery — under the foreclosure 
of a mortgage to which the Attorney-General was made 
a party — Mr. Ogilvie became the purchaser of it for 
^10,500; and having, by his good management of 
the property, succeeoed in paying oflF the mortgage 
and the judigment debts, he had the satisfaction, at 
the end of a few years, of seeing the estate restored 

337 22 



338 Bwell^fs 

to its natural course of succession by settling it upon 
Lord Edward's son and his heirs for ever " (Moore's 
Life). 

In I ''99 Lady Louisa G>noUy and Mr. Ogihrie 
applied in \-ain for a reversal of the attainder. In 
1815, when the position occupied by the Prince of 
Wales as Regent oflfered a better chance of success, 
the matter was again to be brought forward ; when, 
in consequence of the landing of Napoleon in France, 
Lord Castlereagh advised that the question should 
be postponed. Only in 1 8 1 9, twenty-one years after 
Lord Edward's death — ^was the attsunder finaUy 
repealed. 



LIST OF PRINCIPAL AUTHORITIES 



The Life and Death of Lord Edward FitzGerald. Thomas 
Moore. London: 1831. 

The United Irishmen^ their Lives and Times, R, R. Madden, 
and Edition. Series i, 2. Dublin: 1858. 

Personal Recollections of the Life and Times^ with Extracts from 
the Correspondence^ of Valentine^ Lord Cloncurry, Dublin : 
1849. 

Personal Sketches of his own Times, Sir Jonah Barrington. 
London : 1827-32. 

A History of England in the Eighteenth Century. W. E. H. 
Lecky. 

Pieces of Irish History, W. J. McNevin. New York : 1807. 

Memoirs of the Political and Private Life of the Earl of 
Charlemont, F.Hardy. London: 18 10. 

Memoirs of the Life and Times of Henry Grattan, By his 
Son : 1839-46. 

The Age of Pitt and Fox, D. O. Maddyn : 1846. 

Revelations (f Ireland in the Past Generation. D. O. Maddyn : 
1848. 

Curious Family History ; or^ Ireland before the Union, W. J. 
Fitzpatrick. Dublin: 1869. 

" The Sham Squire'' and the Informers of 1798. W. J. Fitz- 
patrick« London: 1866. 

Memoirs of the Life of R. B, Sheridan. Thomas Moore. 
London: 1825. 

399 



340 140t Of prtticipal autboritfes 

Sheridan, A Biography, W. Fraser Rae. London : 1896. 

Curran and his Contemporaries, C. Phflltps. Edinburgh and 
London : 1850. 

Correspondence (f Viscount Castiereagh. 

Personal Narrative of the Irish RebelUon of 1798- C H. 
Tecling. London : 1828. 

The Autobiography of Theobald Wolfe Tom, Edited with an 
Introiluction by R. B. O'Brien. London: 1893. 

Rogers and his Contemporaries. P. W. Clayden. 

Ri»bert Southefs Commonplace Booh, 

The Early History of Charles fames Fax, Sir G. O. Trevdyan. 
London : 1S80. 

Life of Thomas Reynolds, Thomas Reynolds the Younger. 
lA)ndon : 1S39. 

Skt: tikes of Irish PiKiticai Characters if the Present Day. 
Henry McDougall. 1799. 

Memoirs if Madame de Gent is. London : 1825. 

Chroni/ucs Populains. Georgette Ducrest. Paris : 1855. 

Memoirs of the Whig Party. Henry, third Lord Holland. 

.V/.V/T Vi'drS ytgO. 

/..;/. .7-../ litters of Lu:y .V. //.//; Lennox. Edited by the 
CnuIltc^^^ of llrht sicr aiul Loril Stavordalc. London: 1901. 
/../; o/f. I\ CurrAi. \\\ H. Curran. 
A\. V. /-. vc.v ./i.v ('/<;■/. .v.v. 
The Eirls ■'/ A':.\/.!/\: I )ukc of lA-instcr. 
/)/. ti.-.'.irv '/ .^'^^0^^^' /.'/ \^r,i/' /r. 
H -ra.e /;■.;./,'':■> lelt.rs. 



INDEX 



Abercrombu; Sir Ralph, descrip- 
tion of the troops, 276 

America, war with, 33 seq, 

American Civil War, 184 

Annual Register^ account of Lord 
Edward's capture, 305 

Armagh, County, hostility there be- 
tween Catholics aud Protestants, 
166 

Armstrong, Captain, 283, 203 

Assassination, Lord Edward charged 
with advocating, 227-9 

Athy, Lord Edward member for, 46 

Attainder, BUI of, 243 ; Appendix B, 

337. 338 
Aubigny, 25 

Bantry Bay, French expedition to, 

210 
Bar^re, Pamela visits him, 315 
Barrington, Sir Jonah, quoted, 71 
Basle, Lord Edward at, 206 
Bath, Pamela at, 124 
•• BatUlion of Testimony," 234 
Belfast, Republican celebration at, 

137 
Bellamont, Lady, 23 
Bellamont, Lord, 223 
Belle Chasse, Due d'Orl^ans at, 144 
Beresford, J. C, 185, 186, 191 
Berry, Bliss, 41 
Bird, informer, 236 
Bond, Oliver, 182, 249, 259 
Bowles, Caroline, Southey's letter 

to her quoted, 118 
Bristol, fourth Earl of, Bishop of 

Deny, 49 



Brixey, Guillaume de Brixey, 117 

Buckingham, Geoige Grenville, first 
Marquis of, 82 

Bulkeley, Lord, 269 

Burke, Edmund, on French Revolu- 
tion, 133 

Burke, Richard, 160 

Bury, Madame de Genlis and 
Pamela at, 129 

Byron, Lord, epitaph on Lord 
Casllereagh, 220 

Cadiz expedition, projected, 96 

Camden, John Jeffreys Pratt, second 
Eari and first Marquis of. Vice- 
roy, 191, 228, 258; Lord Henry 
FitzGerald's letter to, 325 

Campbell, Lady. See FitzGerald 

Carhampton, Earl of, 197 

Carleton, Lord, Curran's description 
of, 288 

Carton, 49 

Castle, Dublin, i 

Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, Vis- 
count, his monument, 4; on 
Government policy, 191 ; career 
and character, 218-20; 266, 267, 
268 ; 283 ; 2^ 

Castlereagh, Viscountess, 308 

Catholic Committee, 106; Wolfe 
Tone Assistant Secretary of, 107 

Catholic Convention, 159; petitions 
Parliament, 160, and the King, 
161 ; dissolved, 164 

Channel Islands, Lord Edward 
visits, 59 

Charlemont, Earl of, 215 



y^ 



w* 



3n^ 



Charleston Lord Edinrd at, 32 

Chartres, Diic de, 67 

CbK-hr5te". Loni. engaged to Miss 
Ctolvie, 100. loi 

Chnstchurch. ildsiftshire, Pamela 
brcopht irom. 1 1 S 

Chn>i»hiin:h Cathedral, Dublin. 1-^ 

City lUil. Dublin, 2 

( ivTAC, Ducb«se de, 1 20 

Claruilham. Countess of, 60 

CUnMill'.am. Earl of. 53 

Cbre. John KiLzgibbon. first F)arlof, 
:i6. :24, 225, 252, 263. 26S. 269. 
324. 3:3. 32^• ; takes Lady Louisa 
Conolly to Newgate J ail, '3 28 

Clinch, hi» execution, 326 

Cl'-kncurry. ValentiDC Lawless. Lord, 
113. 2i- 

( lor. me I. Lord. 1^1. 2^7 

i'..).'-. It W.r.am. f^v.otod. Si 

C- i. ^Ily. I.atiy Li-wisa. anection fcr 
L^rvi riu-ir-:. ?-. 7'. cjntiiience 
in Lor : C siU re..ch. 220 ; y.t .v-/., 
,-,, ,-- .^j j^ . . ijj.jn-jj Jo Lord 

C.innU:. 32"". an:i Lord Clart', 
;:S ; !.»-: i-.t'^nicw with Lord 
k.!vs.ir:. ;.'>-;■•; U-tton! n- hi< 
I • T. ' A: :.••" . \ A. ;:. ;: » 



I' V. i:-'" :v -. - 


, 


■.. - 


I : : V '■.. .1: : K.. .,ik: 


I ■ 


.-■ . 


', ~ , . i ~ ; J : • . ~ J 






( . '.'■■ : ■ Avt : ' 






( ' r. L" .: : ^t -■ :. :y . 


:_". 




- ~ . :.t'C.-" ! 1 ■ : .." ' ■.-■ 




• '1" 


]■■ ■ .. ■.. .; '"• 






<■■•;■ V- :.■ 






(•.■:k }i ■> . 2 






C- r!r. = . K. : ■ , 






C.Ti.v. .; :>. M.;-,i';i>:. tr.! 


.».:t-.' 


to 


VM-:;rr..l « » \\.:ii\. ^T 






<; .v.K-y. K..:.^rt. i;- 






('•>::. the ::•.!. n:r.or. I ^. 1:7. 


I J> 




C r.'ir-.wfl!. So»Tftarv i" 






C '.rr ;i«. l-.I:-. I'hhi.lt. i>:. 


l-.i. 


I wO. 


23;. :j;7. jj;-3 







pAiiVViii. (irr.er..', :■■•; j/.v.V) 

" I>. ;.nlt rs. If-*' 

pL-tlaiid. M.jJaiiU' (ill, 103 

l>e Lii Croix, Frchch Minister, 206 , 



Delany, Mrs., her letters nr Dudiess 

of Leinstcr's mairia^ 22-3 
Dempsey, 186 

Denzille Street, Pamela at, 272 
Devonshire, Duchess of, 57 
DilloD, Mrs., shelters Lord Edward, 

2«4-& 291-5 
Directory, French, negotiations 

with, 187, 201. 205-7 
Directory, Lcinster, 249^ 259; its 

arrest, 261 ; reconstmcted, 274 
Donat, Bishop of Dublin, I 
Donegal], Earl of, loi 
Dowling. prisoner in Newgate^ 326, 

327 
Doyle. Sir John, quoted, 59^ 40 
Dublin society, 105 
Dtiblim Magazime^ 221 

Dublin and the Geraldines, 1-4 
Dundas. Mr.. 269 

KiAVARD III., King, 14 

Kmmet. Robert, 235 

Kmmet, Thomas Addis, 182; ex- 
amined before Secret Committee, 
186, 200; 213; 250 

K:/GE'i\Ln. Colonel, 297 

} ;t. ''if ralii. Kiiward Fox. birth of, 

I-". 17^^. 31S \note) 
F.i. ciir.il.l, George, sixteenth Earl 

.'1 K.liiare. iS 
}• ::.'<Sera!J, George Robert, 48, 49 
i .t/ri^rald. Gerald, eighth Earl of 

Ki'.dare, 5. 15 
I in 1.' raid. Gerald, ninth Earl of 

Kiiviare, 16 
Fit/Gerald. Gerald, tenth Earl of 

Kddarc, 17 
Kit/ Gerald, James. See first Duke 

ui Leinster 
Kitz Gerald, James, magistrate in 

Fogo, 117 
1 itzGerald, Lady Edward. See 

Pamela 
FitzGerald, Lord Charles, 83, 219, 

266, 267, 269 
FitzGerald, Lord Edward, his grave, 

4 ; his career, 5-7 ; character, 7-0 ; 

unfitted for leadership, 10 ; birtii, 



3n&cj 



343 



12; childhood, 21; boyhood in 
France, 25 ; education, 26 ; enters 
the militia, 28 ; lieutenant in 26th 
Regiment, 2^; in Ireland, 30; 
goes to Amenca, 32 ; aide-de-camp 
to Lord Rawdon, 37; narrow 
escape, 38; wounded at Eutaw 
Springs, 39; popularity in the 
army, 40; at St. Lucia, 41-5; 
return to England, 4$ ; member 
for Athy, 46 ; distaste for home 
life, 47, 48 ; canvasses Westminster 
for Fox, SO, S I i ^i^c ii^ Ireland and 
firat love affair, 53 ; at Woolwich, 
yj ; in the Channel Islands, 59 ; 
at Goodwood and Stoke, 60, 61 ; 
rejoins his mother, 65 ; at Dublin, 
66 ; increasing interest in politics, 
ibid. \ in opposition, 68 ; social 
and political position, 69; visits 
Spain and Portugal, 71 ; in New 
Brunswick, 73; letters to his 
mother, 75-87 ; journey to Quebec, 
89 ; intercourse with natives, 9 1 , 92 ; 
at New Orleans, 92 ; disappoint- 
ment, 93 ; offered command of 
Cadiz expedition, 96; declines, 
on being returned member for 
County Kildare, 98 ; in London, 
102-S ; in Dublin, 105 ; at Paris, 
133 1 revolutionary sympathies, 
137; takes part in Republican 
demonstration, 141 ; meets 
Pamela, 146; marriage, 149; 
cashiered, iqo; in Dublin, 157; 
effect of cashierment, 158, 159; 
protest in Parliament, 162, 163; 
isolation in the House, 167 ; and 
elsewhere, 169, 170; settles on 
Kildare Lodge as a home, 175 ; 
at Frescati, 17$, 176 ; birth of his 
son, 177; development of opinions, 
180^ 181 ; character, 183 seq, \ in- 
timacy with O'Connor, 192 ; in- 
cident on the Curragh, 194, 19$ ; 
joins United Irish Association, 
198; opposes Insurrection Act, 
199 ; delegate to French Govem- 
mentt 302; at Hamburg, 203-6; 
and Basle, ibid,\ indiscretion, 



207 ; declines to seek re-election, 
223 ; charges against him, 227-9 » 
meets French agent in London, 
229 ; meeting with Reynolds, 232, 
238-40 ; described by Murphy and 
Lord Holland, 247, 248 ; on first 
Leinster Directory, 249 ; reported 
conversation, 250, 251 ; visited by 
Reynolds, 259; eludes arrest, 
263; in hiding, 271; visits his 
wife, 273; his position, 279-81; 
in hiding, 284 seq. ; last visit to 
Pamela, 289; reward offered for 
his apprehension, 293 ; last in- 
terview with Mr. Ogilvie, 295, 296 ; 
proposes attack on House of 
Lords, 296, 297 ; tracked and cap- 
tured, 303, 304 ; a prisoner, 305, 306, 
321 seq,\ last interview with his 
aunt and brother, 328-30; death 
and funeral, 331-3 

FitzGerald, Lord Henry, Lord 
Edward's affection for, 70, 83 ; 
member for City of Dublin, 99; 
retires from Parliament, 223, 312, 
317 ; letter to Lord Camden, 325, 
326, 327 ; last interview with Lord 
Edward, 328-30 

FitzGerald, Lord Thomas, executed 
at Tyburn, 16, 17 

FitzGerald, Maurice, first crosses to 
Ireland, 13 

FitzGerald,- Maurice, fourth Earl of 
Kildare, 2, 14 

FitzGerald, Pamela, afterwards 
Lady Campbell, Lord Edward's 
daughter, birth of, 206; 273; 321 
{noU), 322 ; 323 

FitzStephen, Robert, crosses to 
Ireland, 13 

Fitzwilliam, Earl o( Viceroy, 190; 
recalled, 191 

Flood, Henry, 48 

Force, Due de la, description of 
Pamela, 153 

Forth, Mr., sends Pamela to France, 
119 

Fox, Charles lames, 33, 34 ; elected 
member for Westminster, %o\ 
letter to Lord Henry FitzGerald, 



J44 



Snftei 



Sj^ 99 ; friendship for l^ord Edward, 
1 03 ; api^calcd to by Madame de 
Civnlis, \2^; protests against 
Lord Edward 'ft cashier meat, 1 $0 ; 
quoted. 254, 317 
French ezj^dition, 3 10; its failure. 

311 

Frescati. l^uchtss of Lcinster's 
hfime. ^o; Lord Edward's early 
married life at, 173 sfg. 

Glnlis Madame de (also called 
MaiKimc de Sillery ), Lord Edward 
declines to meet, 1 1 3 ; her account 
of! 'amcla's origin. 1 16. 1 17; adopts 
Pamela, ii'j; vi&its England and 
recfii fs d(H-tor*s degree, 1 23 ; 
\Valpol«'"s opinion of, 123; re- 
visits England. 1 24; letter to 
YiiX, 12'>; Sheridan's guest. 1 
12S-30; return to France. 143; | 
scene with Due d'Orl^ans. 147, j 
14S: her account of Pamela's 
marri.ige. Ma 1 72, 173 ; meets 
Fit/Geralds at I lamburg, 2t»3 sr^, 

Oettisburg. cliarge :it, 184 

(ilu-raniiui. I lie. ni rinrcncc, an- 
r, -t.r> "I" Ti' rai ':• • <. i \ 

('..': r.i' ',..:. I ■ : : K-.v .-.r \ aI "i 

(^^•^\\\• . W lii.iir. •■ r« \- <'r.itpry. 
l.'.\ . .. ' .1 i\ii-.r'> i ;:i :,-. I I I 

Imm-.1w..i. :. I (ir'l lliiu.iiil at. » /» 

( ir.-.tt, ". 1 1« ■ rv. '.:s i'TA\t 4 . ;!;..:.•■: 
.■:-. Ill; •-.''. in it'.S'T 1-r (';'y «.l 
I»!iM:: . 'i.. . « :. In-!i ^i v- r. : . :t. 
I'-i . li .T" I- tit'li.i:-' «-. ;'../. ••;'- 
I f)' >('.•:. MM:"-... \.t. |( ". l.i\..lty 
t'» lii.-.a lUltalli. 1' .' . 1 .. . I il. 
11-. I'; J. .itv!tuii«- l««u;ir»l> L'r.ilt'l 
I iisliii' •■ n. .'i;, ^, /.,_•:..>. :j I ; niirfs , 
ri' in r.i:!;.iitii : t. Jj; ; v;i^'> t'^i- 
(ii ]xr .it ( K<.:.;-.r.rs truil. 2^^ 

I 

IIai kas ( i.rjivi'^ Act. siispi-n>i()n of. i 

n.,li:;i\. I.nr.l Kdv.Mnl at. 7^> 
nanil)iirc. L(ird Kdward at, 203 
Henry. Mr., visits Lady Sarah 
Napier, zyj 



Henry VIL, King, 15 

Heniy veil.. King. 16 

Higgins, the io former, 293, 294, 297. 
300 

Hocfae, Genend. 206, and Wdfe 
Tone. 208 ; death of, 352 

Holland. Lad)*, her diaiy quoted, 
313 

Holland, third Lord, 217; descrip- 
tion of Lord Edward, 247, 248^ 317; 
quoted. 330 

Hughes, Mr., 289 

Inchiquin, Lady, 30 

Indians, Lord Ed^-ard s intercourse 

with, 90-2 
" Informers* Home," 234 

J.\CKSo:c, RcT. Winiam, 187 j^^. 
Johns, St., New Brunswick, Lord 
Edivard quartered at, 76 se^. 

Lake, General. 2$$ 
Larochejacquelin, Marqtnse de, 

anecdote of Pamela, lao 
Lawless, Mr., United Irishman, 284, 

2 on 
I.aulfjs. Valentine. 5^^ Cloncurry 
I.o--'!i, 1 1. Ml. J«»hn, Lady Louisa 

C'l'T'-ully'^: letter to, Appendix A, 

l.rj^fvul of Karls of Kildarc. 333 
l.'MiisifT l>irt'rtor>*. See Directoiy 
1 rii.<t(T. Puchess of, Lady Emilia 
l.cnnox, her second marriage. 
22-^: relations with Lord Edward. 
-7. 3-. 55. 60, 65 ; Lord Edward's 
I. ttrrs to, 28. 31. 32. 44, 47, 55^3. 
6;. 66. 6S, 72, 73, 75.81. 84-87. 
SJi. 105, 137, 138. 141. 142. 153, 
I'-o. 171, 174, 175, 176; conduct 
cm his marriage, 152. 153; letter 
about Pamela. 156; view of the 
ctTect of his cashierment. 158; 
interview with Prince of Wales, 
^iS {fto/r) 
Loinster, first Duke of. and twentieth 
Earl of Kildaie, Lord Edward's 
father, 18, 19; death of, ai 
Lciiister. William, second Duke of. 



Bnba 



345 



described, 52; supports Govern- 
ment, 83; Master of the Rolls, 
84 ; member of Whig Qub, 106, 
170 ; resigns command of militia, 
223 ; affection for Lord Edward, 

324 
Leinster House, 177, 263, 264 
Lennox, Georgina, 52, 53, 75; 

marries Lord Apsley, 93 
Lennox, Lady Emilia. See Duchess 

of Leinster 
Lennox, Lady Sarah. See Napier 
Lennox, Lord George, $2 
Lewines, agent at Paris, 229, 252, 

279 
Liancourt, Due de, 12$ 
Longueville, Lord, 193 
Louis XVI., execution of, 165 
Lucia, St, Lord Edward quartered 

at, 41 
Lynch, Mr., tutor to Lord Edward, 
21 

MacDougall, Henry, on Lord 

Edward, 9 
Madden, Dr., quoted 8, 194, 250 

seg, 
Magan, Francis, the informer, 293, 

294, 297-9, 304. 308 
Maidstone, O'Connor tried at, 253 
Margate, O'Connor captured at, 253 
Martial law proclaimed, 276 
Martinique, Lord Edward visits, 42 
Mary les Dames, Church of St., i, 2 
McNally, Leonard, the informer, 

228, 235, 253, 256. 257 
McNevin, William James, 228, 249, 

250, 263 
Meade, Lady Catherine, Lord Ed- 
ward's first love, 53 seq. 
Militia raised, 223 
Moira, Francis Rawdon Hastings, 

Earl of, 221, 255, 2S7 
Moira, Lady, 307 
Moore, Miss, 295, 300 
Moore, public-nouse keeper, 295, 

297,299 
Moore, Thomas, on Reynolds, 237 ; 

247 ; 321 {tufie) ; qtioted Appendix 

B, 337, 338 



Murphy, feather merchant, 247, 288, 
295. 299, 301, 320 

Nantes, Comte Fran^ais de, on 
Paine, iii 

Napier, Colonel, 309, 310, 317 

Napier, Emily, 267, 308, 328, 331 
(note) 

Napier, Lady Sarah, Lord Edward's 
aunt, 20, quoted 24 ; anecdote of 
Prince of Wales, $2 ; quoted 83, 
93, looi loi, 121 (HOte\ 155, 156, 
222, 226, 246, 265 sea., 272, 273, 
277 ; dislike of Lord Castlereagh, 
220 

Napier, Louisa, 308 

Napoleon Bonaparte, 252 

National Battalion, 161 seq. 

Neilson, Samuel, United Irishman, 
182, 242, 287, 288, 289, 302, 318, 

319 

Newell, the informer, 236 

Newgate Jail, Lord Edward con- 
fined in, 309 seg. 

O'Brien, Jemmy, the informer, 
234 

O'Byme, Mrs., 234 

O'Connor, Arthur, enters Parlia- 
ment, 99, 192 ; views and opinions, 
193, 194; delegate to French 
Grovemment, 202 seg.; charges 
against, 127, 128 ; 252 seg., quoted 

333 

Ogilvie, Cedlia, engaged to Lord 
Chichester, 100^ 10 1 

Ogilvie, William, marries Duchess 
of Leinster, 22 ; Lord Edward's 
affection for, 26, S^-^; I^rd 
Edward's letter to, 85 ; interview 
with Lord Clare, 224, 22$; re- 
garded with suspicion, 184; last 
interview with Lord Edward, 295, 

O'Hara, General, at St Lucia, 41 ; 

at Gibraltar, 71, 72 
O'Kelly, Major, 264, 26$ 
Orl^ns, Duchesse d*. 122 
Orl^ns, Louis Philippe, Due d' 

^3 



346 



^n^el 



{Egahifs, reputed to ht father 
of Pamela. 1 16 : relations wiih 
Madame deGenlis, 122 ; meeting 
at Belle Chasae, 144; conversa- 
tion al Kainsy, 147. 148 

Orleans, Mademoiselle Adelaide d", 
in England, 24-6; returns to 
France. 143 seq.\ provides 
Pamela's funeral, 313 

Otho, Dominus, 13 

Paini, Thomas, author of Rights 
of Mam, 10^14, 188 

Pakenham. Mr. 26S srq. 

Pamela, birth and origin. 115-18; 
adopted by Madame de Genlis. 
lit); early traininf;. 120. 121; 
visit to England and to Walpole, 
123 ; second visit to England, 124 ; 
S*»uthey's description of. ibid. : 
meets Sheridan. 127; his offer of 
mairiage, I2g; returns to France, 
130: meets Lord Etlward, 146; 
marries him, 149; character and 
portr.iit. 153-5 i relations with 
KilzGerald familvi 156; early 
niarrie<l liays. 170 .v/. ; meets 
Mail.:nv do (h'i li«- al Mjm'.urg. 
j'S -w/. . -M^'. -"4. :J-5. y">- >•./■: 

l.l>t ITH-rtllii; uill I.nr-i I'.dw.iPl. 
jS.) ; ror.tliKt ultf r !:is iai»liiTc, 
attrr-lil'-. ami 'It-.tli. VC ^ / 

I'aii-, loFil K«l\'.ar^l 111. 1 ^S .v.y. 

I'..t:h'!!. Sir J..!.!!. :v>. 

•■ Pi-.ji .1 I »ay \\i'\'<, ' |f'(» 

Pt I am, ( :-i<-l' >» » Tr'tary. ji>^. jjS, 

;!■« 
rortland, I)Mkr ot, 171^, i;i il-.c 

Pn'>> iii\\>j)aiM'r. _s ;, 23.1 

Oil nn . I.(»ril I-aluartTt! ;o.iriiev t". 

F\A\FLA(;n, K«r[)iihli(.an celebration 
Kautloii. Lord, 37. Sci' itiso Moira 



Reform, agitation for, 106; 161 

Regency Bill, 88 

Reinhard, French Miniater to Hm- 

seatic towns» 10, 205, ao6 
Rerolution, French, entfausiaam kx, 

135. 136 

Reynolds, Thooias, the infonner, 
232, 236 seq. \ 256 Mq. 

Reynolds, Thomas, junior, quoted, 
237, 238. 241, 242 (MUr) 

Richmond, third Duke c^ 22, 3$; 
disagreement with Lord Edward, 
y>\ Lord Edward yields to his 
judgment, 86 ; offers Lord Edward 
command of Cadiz ezpeditioD, 
96-99 ; efforts on Lord Edwartfs 
behalf, 317 

Rickman, Mr., Thomas Paine^s host, 
109; his guests, 112 

Rifrhts of Man, by Paine, 109 

Rochford, 221 

Rogers, Samuel, party at house ot, 

Romney, the painter, guest of 

Paine's, 111 
Rousseau, J. J., influence on Lord 

Edward, 97 ; Walpole's opinion 

nf. 123 

Kowan, Hamilton, escape of, 282, 

Rutland. Charles Manners, fourth 
I hike ot. Viceroy, 67 ; death of. 71 

Ryan, Captain, assists in Lord 
Kdwaiil's capture, 303. 304; death 

nf. 326 

Sam 'FORD. Miss, 30 
S"pirmbcr Massacres, 139 
" S'lam Squire." See Higgins 
Slitart-s, the brothers, United Irish- 
nu-n, Grattan on, 216; 283, 291, 

Sheridan, Mrs., Lord Edward's 
friendship with, 1 27 

Slxridan, Richard Brinsley, meets 
Pamela, 125 ; describes her, 126; 
relations with his wife, 127, 128; 
entertains Madame de Genlis and 
Pamela, 129 ; proposes to Pamela, 
ibid. ; second marriage, 131 



Jn^cJ 



347 



Shiel, only mourner at Lord Ed- 
ward's funeral, 332 

Sillery, Bfadame de. See Genlis 

Sillery, M. de, 147, 148 

Sims, Mary, 117, 118 

Sims, Nancy. Su Pamela 

Sirr, Charles Henry, bis grave, 4; 
at Gibraltar, 71 ; Town Major, 
298 ; captures Lord Edward, 303, 
304; 321 ; nde.Und. 

Smith, Sir R., at revolutionary 
meeting in Paris, 141 

Southey, Robert, accounts of Pamela 
quoted, 118, 124; on Lord Ed- 
ward, 333 

Stanhope, Lord, on Thomas Paine, 
III 

Stewart, Robert See Castlereagh 

Stone, J. H., presides at revolu- 
tionary meeting, 141 ; introduces 
Lord Edward to Pamela, 146 

Stone, , in charge of Lord 

Edward in prison, 326 

Strongbow, Earl, i 

Swan, Major, 303 

Talleyrand, 260 

Teeling, Charles, quoted 171 ; 185, 
218 

Tone, Theobald Wolfe, 6; chief 
founder of United Irish Society, 
106 ; aims of, 107 ; Tone and 
Lord Edward, 109; opinion of 
Catholic Relief Bill, 164; com- 
ment upon execution of Louis 
XVI., 165; 181. 182; in Paris, 
201 ; interview with Hoche, 208, 
209 ; at Bantiy Bay, 211; quoted 
231. 331 

Tony, Lord Edward's negro servant, 
39. 73. 78. 85. 263, 272 

Tooke, J. Home, disciple of Paine, 
III 



Toumay, Lord Edward married at, 

149 
Tuite, carpenter, 297 

Union Star newspaper, 227, 228 
United Irish Association, 106; 

earlier aims, 107, 108; oath, 108; 

suppressed, 190 ; reconstructed, 

198; joined by Lord Edward, ibid. ; 

advances made by its Iraderi to 

Parliamentary opposition, 213; 

Grattan and United Irishmen, 2 1 5 

seq. 

Volunteer Convention, 49 
Volunteers, later developments of, 
162 

V^ALES, Prince of, supports Knx. 

$1 ; kindness concerning Liirti 

Edward, xij \ Icttrr to Mr. 

Ogilvie, JI6; note, ibid 
V^alpole, Horace, quoted 50, 83, 

100, 123. 129 
V^atson, Mr, Lord Csmden's private 

secretary, 306 
Werberga, Ssint, 2 
Werburgh's Church, St., 3. 4 i I<ord 

Edward buried thrre, 331, 333 
Westmeath, Esri of, 363 
Westminster Election, 50 
Westmorland, John r«nc», tenth 

Eari of, Viceroy, i^»o, 173, 174; 

recall, \^y 
Whig Club, formation of, 106 
White's Hotel, Paris, meeting at, 

140, 141 
Whiteboy distuibanres, 66 
Wicklow, Countv, 174 
Wollstonecraft, Mary, 1 1 1 

York, Duke of, liking for Lord 

Edward, 317 
Yorktown, surrender of British 

forces at, 41 



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