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THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
Astor Lenox and Tilden Foundations
BEALE SHORTHAND COLLECTION
Deposited by the
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of
WILLIAM SAMPSON:
INCLUDING
PARTICULARS OF HIS ADVENTURES IN VARIOUS PARTS OF
EUROPE; HIS CONFINEMENT IN THE DUNGEONS OF
THE INQUISITION IN LISBON, &C. &C.
SEVERAL O^JGINAL LETTERS;
BEING
HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE MINISTERS O? STATE
IN GREAT-BRITAIN AND PORTUGAL,
A SHORT SKETCH
OF THE
HISTORY OF ffiMtASTi., >>!>:
PARTICUXAKA-X as it jeie. specks '1»JE' JSJEH&IJ? OF
BKITTSH DOMINATION IN .THA/f ' CGUNTRt*:'
and ;3o ; 'J\ „'•/ • *,» ';
A FEW OBSERVATIONS "
ON THE STATE OF MANNERS, &C, IN AMERICA.,
SECOND EDITION:
REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR,
PUBXXSHED BT SAMUEX B. T. CAXDWEXT-
XEESBURG, YA,
• •••
1817.
puS-f
■ OX AND
DATION8
1914 , L
District of New -York, ss.
BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the eighteenth
day of November, in the thirty-second year of the inde-
pendence of the United States of America, William Samp-
son of the said district, hath deposited in this office, the title
of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the
words following, to wit: #
MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM SAMPSON;
Including particulars of his adventures in various parts of
Europe; his confinement in the dungeons of the inquisition
in Lisbon, &c. &c. several original letters, being his cor-
respondence with the ministers of state in Great-Britain
and Portugal; a short sketch of the history of Ireland,
particularly as it respects the spirit of British domination
in that country,. $nd' ti Tew observations on the state of
manners, 5&e, iik/XmeBcai
• 'h\ Conformity to. the act of the Congress of the United
States,* eHtitletj? «/;Ah*«ct for the encouragement of learning
by secm«ni^tlnVcopjes of maps, charts, and books, to the
authors \h\u\ \pr(fflrietor? of such copies during the times
therein mentioned,' and "extending the benefits thereof to the
arts of designing, engraving and etcliing historical and
other prints."
EDWARD DUNSCOMB,
Clfrk of the District of New-York.
ADVERTISEMENT,
Feeling a deep interest in the affairs of that ill-fated
country, whose history, at an interesting period, is here
fully and faithfully portrayed; seeing our market entirely
exhausted of so valuable an acquisition as the following
work; hearing the great demand of my fellow-citizens for
another edition; regretting that their just demand had not
been sooner gratified, and sympathizing with the unfortu-
nate author, on whom the iron hand of despotic power has
heavily pressed, the publisher is induced to offer this new
and revised edition of the Memoirs of Sampson to a liberal
and enlightened public, fully confident that the .sunshine of
their approbation will bask upon him. Few Works, pos-
sessing the merit of the following pages, have ' ev£?, in this
enlightened country, been permitted to slumber in the arms
of obscurity, and never to sink into the vortex' of tvfihVion.
"While, therefore, the people are capable of distinguishing
"where real merit lies;" while they possess commiserating
hearts, and can shed the sympathizing tear over the suffer-
ings of poor unhappy Erin, bowed down by the galling yoke
of oppression; while historic facts worthy of record can in-
terest; while smoothe flowing periods and elegant diction
have a tendency to please; while severe and pungent satire
will amuse, this work will meet with ample patronage. The
history of Ireland during that period when tyranny and des-
potism with blood-stained hands were stalking, with gigant-
ic strides, o'er her pleasant hills and fertile tallies, cannol
IV ADVERTISEMENT,
fail to be interesting — particularly interesting to Americans,
who but yesterday escaped the chains that now manacle Ire-
land, and a worse than Egyptian bondage. Like Daniel,
we have escaped the devouring jaws of the lion, and like the
sacred three of old, we have been delivered from the fiery fur-
nace unscorched. Let our prayers then be offered for the safe
deliverance of our brethren, "born in the country of affliction,' '
whose "days are days of sorrow," who are yet in the power
of the British lion, and who may yet be devoured in the
flames of despotism.
1 PUBLISHER.
... «••»■*
• • • •
: .•;. • • —
PREFACE.
TO THE AMERICAN PUBLIC*
THE author, without apology, submits his Memoirs to
that nation where truth can be uttered without alloy.
To the idolaters of English power, some of whom have
motives too strong for truth to shake, he is aware that his
work will not be pleasing. But he knows that the genius of
America is not that of persecution; and that although for
ten years past, terror and corruption have been able to si-
lence the vindicators of the Irish cause; yet it neads but to
be known to find favor with the just and generous of every
> 9 j
country.
The printing presses of Ireland have been' lawlessly de-
molished, and all who dare write or speyk the truth;. 'have
been hunted to destruction; whilst scouts and hirelings, paid
from the Irish treasury, have been maintained in the re-
motest regions of the earth, to slander Ireland; yet all this
has not been sufficient to reconcile the minds of thinking
people to the idea of a nation of rebels, or a kingdom out of a
king's peace. For if a government be so manifestly against a
people, and a people so manifestly against a government: if
a kingdom must be put out of the king's peace, in order that
a faction may monopolize royal power, it maybe fairly asked,
on which side is rebellion? and the answer arises spontane-
ously in the breast of a free American.
Vl PREFACE.
Some of the most respectable citizens of America have ac-
knowledged to the author, that they had been deceived
respecting Ireland, and were desirous of knowing the state
of things; and this was a principal motive for giving to the
public his Memoirs, which, from certain principles of mod-
eration, he had so long suppressed.
The author has, with no less frankness avowed, that the
unremitting and reiterated calumnies levelled against the
American reputation, had not been without effect upon his
mind, until it was his fortune to be corrected by the happiest
experiment: till in that country, where, it was written,] that
the men were sorded, the women withered, the institutions
vicious, and religion unknown; he found exalted hospitality,
the charms of female society elegant and attractive; institu-
tions which on the other side the Atlantic pass for wild and
visionary theories, reduced to practice, and unexampled pros-
ferity growing beneath: their shade: till he found religion un-
ffulfiejl-by political cratfVor violent dominion, inculcated with
purity* audexercjsjjl in charily: till lie found in the benigni-
ty of tber^EitCir/^long lost profession, and in the liberali-
ty of-tlietAR. friends worthv of his esteem.
To -such- a pfeOpIe he" addresses himself with confidence.
The faint sketch his Memoirs present of the calamities of his
country, may serve at least to awake attention to a subject
too little known for the common interest of humanity. The
rest will follow; and the time may yet come, when the genius
of Columbia, exulting inheryoung flight, and soaringonher
eagle-wing, in quest of subjects equal to her swelling concep-
tions, may find them in the courage, the constancy, and un-
t See Moore, Weld, Parkinson, Davis, The Stranger, and aK
the rest.
PREFACE. Vlf
deserved calamities of slandered Ireland. Till then, let it
be kept in mind, that the same writers and runners, hired to
traduce Irishmen in America, are those who traduce Ameri-
ca in Europe; with this only difference, that in all their
clumsy sarcasms, the spirit of the jest is, to call the Ameri.
can Yankee, and the Irishman Paddy.
•
CONTENTS,
1ETTER I. PAGE
Treason— Carlisle Gaol — Bridewell, 18
LETTER II.
M'Dougall — Trevor-— Torture — JYotice of Trial 24
LETTER III.
Lord Cornwallis — Sir Ralph Abererombie, 31
LETTER IV.
Negotiation — Byrne — Bond, 36
LETTER V,
Case stated— Union, 40
LETTER VI,
Treachery, N 49
LETTER VII.
Chicane— 'Lie by Act of Parliament — Lord Castlereagh, S3
LETTER VIII.
Lovely Peggy— Lovely Mary — Shipwreck, 59
LETTER IX.
Ancient Britws—Duke of Portlaiid, 64
Advertisement to the Reader, 71
LETTER X.
Mr. Wickham— Colonel Edwards— 'Oporto, 89
LETTER XI.
Taken prisoner— Released— Liberality — Mr, NasJir—
Abbe, Morand, 92
B
X CONTENTS.
LETTER XII. PAGE
Again imprisoned — Palace — Prison — Corrigidor—^
King — Queen — Prince — Variety, 96
LETTER XIIK
Report of my Trial — Mr. Sealy, 99
LETTER XIV.
Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Commedians, Friars, SfC 102
LETTER XV.
Mr. Tfalpole — A Trick — Ministers of Police — Cones-
pondence — Sweet-Meats, 120
LETTER XVI.
An Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intendente, 123
LETTER XVII.
Tried again — Acquitted — Attempt at Suicide — My dan-
ger— Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears
— Antonio — Italian nobleman — Lady — Cruel perfidy
— English threats — Gibraltar prison ship — Another
Gaol, 126
LETTER XVIII.
Nocturnal Migration — Other prison — More nauseous
Dungeons — Hunting by candle-light, 133
LETTER XIX.
Not quite so bad — Music — 'Amours of various Colours —
Delays of State — The Saints — Something like Tom
Pipes, 135
LETTER XX.
Better — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect — Ladies'
Eyes — Boiv and Arrows — Bad shot — Hopes still, 137
LETTER XXI.
The Neighbours — Infernal Dungeons, 142
CONTENTS. XI
LETTER XXII. PAGE
JCid-napped — Tra nsported — Our Jdieus — State-affairs
—Protest, 145
LETTER XXIII.
Voyage — Discovery — French Privateer — English Frig-
ate— Dangers — Difficulties — Distresses— Landing in
Spain, 150
LETTER XXIV.
Again threatened with Jlrrestation — Remonstrance —
Municipality of Bayonne — Jlrrete motive — Arrival
in France. 156
LETTER XXV.
Bordeaux — Bureau Central — Reflections on Party Spirit
— New Embarrassments — Mr. Forster — Special Let-
ter of Exchange — My Protest — Its effect, 161
LETTER XXVI.
Mrs. Sampson — Correspondence — Mr. Merry, 167
LETTER XXVII,
Peace — Cormvallis — Colonel Littlehales — My Memorial
— Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecu-
tion-— Mrs. Sanson — Her arrival in France with
her Children, 178
LETTER XXVIII.
Of the Terror in France, 189
LETTER XXIX.
Of the Character of the French Nation, 196
LETTER XXX.
Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Correspondence—-
Mr. Thornton — Lord Hawksbury — Mr. Fox, 202
5lI1 CONTENTS.
LETTER XXXI. PAGE
Embarkation — Danger — Journey to London — Lord
Spencer — Once more imprisoned — Mr. Sparrow —
Governor Picton, 225
Hope and the Exile — a V\ Isioii, 239
LETTER XXXII.
Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — A brief Review of
Irish History, 248
LETTER XXXIII.
Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our Eng-
lish Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of
the Dispute, 262
LETTER XXXIV.
Of the Reformation, 278
LETTER XXXV.
Theobald Wolfe Tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the
Crimes of the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with
England — Irishmen with Irishmen, 510
LETTER XXXVI.
The Irish Emigrant, 330
A Letter to Lord Spencer. 338
CONTENTS OF THE APPENDIX,
no. i. Page
Informers hanged by their Employers, 345
NO. II.
Massacres of the Currah of Kildare and Glenco, 348
NO. III.
Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone, 352
NO. IV.
Resolutions of the Armagh Magistrates, and the atroci-
ties of the Peep-qf-day-Boys, 357
NO. v.
Lord Castlereaghf 362
NO. VI.
Passport of the Duke of Portland, 364
NO. VII.
Petition of the freeholders of Down, presented by Mr.
Fox to his Majesty, 265
NO, VIII,
Apology, 367
m APPENDIX.
no. ix. Page
Lei ten of informers to their employers. 367
NO. X.
Belfast Resolutions, 373
NO. XI.
Humanity punished with Death, 376
NO. XII.
Certificate of Mr. Laf argue, 379
NO. XIII.
Jirrete Moiive, 380
NO. XIV.
Interrogatories, 382
NO. XV.
Passport from Parts to Hamburg, 390
NO. XVI.
Matilda Tone, 391
Facts, in continuation of the appendix, 365
Tests and signs of the Orangemen, ibid.
Declarations ami Tests of United Irishmen, 398
Extracts from Lord Moira's Speech, 399
Committee of Elders, 404
The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 406
Moll Doyle, 407
Proclamation of a Rebel General, 408
Dying Declaration of William Orr, 409
Protestant Fanaticism, 412
Hucnlege, 413
APPENDIX. XY
Page
General Murphey, 413
Irish Law, 414
Mr. Walter Devereaux 415
Michael Egan, 416
Bloody Executions at Wexford , 418
Cannibal, 420
Bloody Parson, 422
Walking Gallows, 423
Tom the Devil, 425
jBZood*/ Friday, 428
Female Wretchedness9 429
.Mm/ Smith, 430
Female Chastity f 431
MEMOIRS, &c
LETTER I.
Treason-~Carlisle Gaol — Bridewell.
AT length, my friend, I take up my pen to comply
with your desire, and to give you the history of my extraor-
dinary persecution. From it you may form a judgment of
that system of government which drove the unhappy people
of Ireland to revolt. But to judge rightly, you should also
he aware, that of many thousand such cases, mine is one o?
the most mild.
Before any open violence was ' attempted against me. I
had been often distantly threatened, and indirectly insulted:
And particularly on the 12th. of February 1798, I was
charged with high treason by the Alderman of Dublin.
This charge of high treason was upon the following ground:
The printer of the paper called the Press, Mr. Stockdale,
was imprisoned under an arbitrary sentence for breach of
privilege in not answering to interrogatories tending to con-
vict him before a parliamentary committee. And whilst he
was lying in gaol, his house was beset by a large military
force; and his afflicted wife was thrown into an agony of
terror. This scene was in my neighborhood. I was the
counsel of the husband, and whilst at dinner received a re»
n
18 MEMOIRS 01
quest from Mrs. Stockdale to go and confer with the higJ*
sheriff on her behalf, and to depreciate the vengeance
that was threatened. I found the house crouded with mili-
tary, who threatened to demolish it, as other printers hous-
es had been demolished. The types and printing imple-
ments were destroyed, and the unfortunate woman thrown
into an agony of terror. After interceding with the sheriff,
he conducted me to the door. Mrs. Stockdale's sister hav-
ing picked up a parcel of ball cartridges, deposited by the
sheriff himself, or by his consent, on a former occasion, for
Ihe purposes of defence against a mob, became fearful that
they might be made a pretext for a massacre, took advan-
tage of the door being opened for me, to carry them away*
They broke through her apron, and scattered upon the
flaggs. The whole sergeant's guard crying out, that they
had found the croppic's pills, pursued me at full speed. I
turned short to meet them, and by that means checked their
fury. I was immediately surrounded by near twenty bay-
onets presented to my body, each soldier encouraging his
comrade to run me through. I assumed an air of confidence
and security beyond what I felt, and appealed to the ser-
geant, who, after some rough parley, led me back a prison-
er to his officers within. He, the lady, the sergeant, and
some others, underwent an examination, and at two in the
morning, I was told by alderman Carleton, that there was a
charge against me amounting to high treason; but that if I
would be upon honor to present myself to him on the follow-
ing day, he would enlarge me, I went the next morning, ac-
companied by Mr. Montgomery, Mr. Hill Wilson, and the
honorable John Leeson, to demand some explanation; the
alderman was denied, and there the matter finished as ife
began, in buffoonery.
a
WJX1IAM SAMPSON. 19
I learned afterwards, that the investment and occupation
of Mr. Stockdale's house, was to prevent an intended pub-
lication in the "Press," against lord Clare, from circu-
lating* That side of the news-paper, however, which con-
tained it, had already been printed, and the soldiers who
made prize of the impression, circulated it rapidly at a
great advanced price.
But the event from which my present persecution flow,
in an uninterrupted series, was an attempt to make me
a prisoner on the 12th. of March, of the same year; a day
famous for the arrest of many men distinguished, at that
time by their qualities, but more so by their sufferings
since.
• This was considered by my enemies a good occasion to
repair the blunders of the former day; and I was, without
the slightest pretext, included in the list of common pro-
scription.
It was probably hoped, that in the seizure of my papers,
something might be found to justify so violent a measure;
but no such ground appearing, more scandalous means
were resorted to; and an officer of the C avail militia, Mi*.
Colclough, was found so unworthy of his profession, as to
be the instrument of that scandal, and to propagate that lie
had found a commission naming me a French general.
And a noble lord (Glentworth) did not scruple to proclaim
the same falsehood to the young gentlemen of the college
corps of yeomanry on their parade. Such was the foul
commencement of that abomination, of which you must
have patience to listen to the detail.
Being from home when the house I inhabited was beset,
my first care was to retire to a place of safety, from whence
I wrote a letter to the lord lieutenant, earl Cambdcn, which
30 M£>lOiKS OF
was put into his hand by general Crosbic; and another to
The attorney-general, Mr. Wolfe, which was delivered by
the honorable John Lceson. In each of these letters I offer-
ed to surrender instantly, on the promise of receiving a
trial.
j>7o answer being given, I remained in Dublin until the
16th of April, when the terror became so atrocious that
humanity could no longer endure it. In every quarter of
the metropolis, the shrieks and groans of the tortured were
to be heard, and that, through all hours of the day and
night. Men were taken at random without process or
accusation, and tortured at the pleasure of the lowest dregs
of the community. Bloody theatres were opened by these
Self-constituted inquisitors, and new and unheard of ma-
chines were invented for their diabolical purposes. Un-
happily in every country, history is but the record of black
rimes; but if ever this history comes to be fairly written,
Whatever has yet been held up to the execration of man-
kind, will fade before it. For it had not happened before,
in any country or in any age, to inflict torture and to offer
bribe at the same moment, In this bloody reign, the cow-
ard and the traitor were sure of wealth and power; the
brave and the loyal to suffer death or torture. The very
mansion of the viceroy was peopled with salaried denoun-
cers, kept in secret and led out only for purposes of death.
Some of them, struck with remorse, have since published
their own crimes, and some have been hanged by their
employers. fSeo Appendix, JVo. I.J — Men were hung up
until their tongues started from their mouths, and let down
to receive fresh offers of bribe to betray their neighbor or
discover against themselves. If they neither knew nor
would discover any thing, these intervals of relaxation
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 21
were followed by new and more poignant inflictions. And
when that courage, which is the noble attribute of my un-
happy countrymen, spurned in the midst of agony at the
tempter and the bribe; the nearest and the tenderest rela-
tives were often brought to witness these horrors; that out
of their feelings might be extorted some denunciation, true
or false, which the virtue of the sufferer had withheld.
To avoid such scenes, disgraceful to the name cf man,
and acted in the name of the king and British constitution,
on the day abovcmentioned (the 16th of April, 1798) I em-
barked in a collier ship for Whitehaven, and was on the
following morning arrested on my landing, pursuant to
general orders issued to the officers of that port. From
hence I was sent to the county gaol of Carlisle, merely be-
cause I refused to tell my name; and my servant, John
Russel, of whom I shall have too much reason to speak
hereafter, was detained a prisoner in the workhouse at
Whitehaven,
Though I never did, nor never shall fear my enemies, I
did not think it wise to brave them at this moment, seeing
they had the power of putting me in gaol, from whence the
law had no power to set me free; and I therefore passed by
the name of Williams, being nearly my name by baptism.
Many attempts were made upon my servant to disclose my
name;, but he refused; and the newspapers of the place were
mean enough to publish that he had betrayed me. Happi-
ly torture had not then, nor has yet been introduced into
England: that may be referred for the future; and those
means which have succeeded to overturn the ancient con-
stitutions of Ireland, bribery, corruption, division, torture,
religion, and military executions, may much sooner than
many think, be employed to clear away the ruins of British
MEMOIRS or
:riy. And the Irish may, in their turn, be led over to
England to repay the benefits they have received.
Whilst in Carlisle, I obtained leave from the magistrates
and gaoler, to write to the duke of Portland, then secretary
of state, requesting earnestly to be sent to trial, if any one
had been impudent enough to charge me with any crime.
Or, if that justice was not granted, that I might rather re-
main where I was, than to be again forced amidst the hor-
rors which raged in my own country. But neither the one
nor the other of these requests were listened to, and I was
6eni bark again to Dublin, with my servant, where we
landed on the 5th of May.
It is scarcely worth while to mention the vexations I
experienced in Carlisle, they arc so eclipsed by the horrors
which were to follow. The gaoler, Mr. Wilson, was by
profession a butcher. The moment I saw his face, I re-
collected having been present in the court of king's bench,
during my attendance as a student, when he was sentenced
to two yeai*s imprisonment for having kidnapped an old
man, and married him by force to a woman, his accomplice.
This sentence he had strictly undergone, and so far that
fault was expiated; and he was now for his services at elec-
tions for members of parliament, under the special protec-
tion of lord Lonsdale, named gaolor of the county prison.
Such was the man who celebrated his clemency in accept-
ing of payment for not putting me in irons; and who, when
I was with difficulty allowed a bed to repose myself upon,
insisted upon sharing it with me. One messenger came
from London, another from Dublin; and, so averse was the
spirit of the people of that country to such proceedings, that
the messengers quarters were surrounded by guards: pa<
!es went round the city, and I could scarcely prevent my
WflXIAM SAMPSON.
rescue. Such was the beginning of that persecution you
have desired me to relate so circumstantially.
I was, upon landing in Dublin, taken to the apartment*
Mr. Coke, as it was told me, to be examined. I was lor::ii
up some hours, but this gentleman did not tliink proper to
examine me; and he judged well: perhaps, upon examining
himself, he thought it best not to examine me.
From hence I was sent under a guard to the Castle tav-
ern, where night and day two centinels were placed in my
room. From these centinels I learned to what atrocious
length the brutal licentiousness of the military had been en-
couraged. A young man of the North Cork militia, whom
I had, by civilities, drawn into conversation, frankly re-
gretted the free quarters in Kildare, where he said, that
amongst other advantages, they had their will of the meii?s
wives and daughters. I asked hiraj if his officers permitted
that? and he answered, by a story of one who had ordered a
farmer, during the time of the free quarters, to bring him
his daughter in four and twenty hours, under pain of having
his house burned. The young girl had been removed to a
neighbouring parish. The father would not be the instru
ment of his daughter's pollution. And this young soldier
assured me, he had been one, who, by his officer's com?
mand, had burned the house of the father. And this was
called loyalty to the king and British constitution; and now
this crime, with a million of others, is indemnified by law,
Whilst I, who would rather die than countenance such
atrocity, am, without enquiry, dungeoned, proclaimed, pur-
sued, and exiled. And still, great as my wrongs are, they
are but as shadows of those of thousands of my countrymen*
On the 7th of May, I was taken with a long procession
cf prisoners, all strangers to me, to bridewell, where I \f
24 MEMOIRS OF
doomed to suffer, what honest men must ever expect, when
in the power of those whose crimes they have opposed. In
bridewell I was locked up in dismal solitude for many
months.
I cannot help mentioning, before I go further, the extra~
ordinary appearance of Mr.Cooke's office in the Castle.
It was full of those arms which had been at different times
and in various parts of the country, wrested from the hands
of 'he unfortunate peasants. They were chiefly pikes of a
most rude workmanship, and forms the most grotesque:
green crooked sticks cut out of the hedges with long spikes,
nails, knives, or scythe blades fastened on the end of them,
very emblematical of the poverty and desperation of these
unhappy warriors; and shewing, in a strong light, the won-
derful effects of despair, and the courage it inspires.
Never did human eyes behold so curious an armory as this
secretary's office.
XETTETl II.
JPLougall — Trevor — Torture — Notice of Trial,
THE first occurrence in bridewell which gave me
pleasure, was a notice of trial, served upon me in due form.
I thought my enemies now committed past retreat, and I
vainry anticipated the triumph I should have in their con-
frontation and confusion. I feared neither corrupt judges,
packed juries, hired witnesses, treacherous advocates, nor
terror-struck friends. I was all-sufficient for myself against
such hosts. I had no need of defence, but had much of ac-
cusation to bring forth. I had committed no murders nor
WILLIAM SAMPSON. y„-
treasons. I had burned no houses, nor tortured no free
men. I asked no absolution in acts of parliament, passed
in one sesion, to indemnify the crimes of the preceding one,
I had legally and loyally defended the acknowledged rights
of my countrymen. I had opposed myself with honest
firmness to the crimes of arson, treason, murder, and tor-
ture; and rather than my countrywomen should be deflow-
ered, I was ready, as it was my duty, to defend them with
my life. I had done more; for when the boiling indigna-
tion of the people pointed to self-preservation, through in-
dividual retaliation, I had spent sleepless nights to sa(/e the
lives of those who, after so many years of vengeance, seem
still to hunt for mine. But think not, my friend, that I
should ever condescend to make a merit of this to those
despicable men. The principal of my actions was too pure
to be in any way connected with their degraded persons.
During the time that I was locked up in secret, my ser-
vant had found protection in the house and service of Mr.
and Mrs. Leeson, with the friendly condition of restoring
him to me as soon as I should be set free. He was allowed
to come at times for my linen, and other necessary commis-
sions, under the bars of my window; but only got leave to
speak to me in the presence of the keeper, or the sergeant oi'
the guard. Upon receiving the notice of trial, I sent him
with the good news to Mr. Vincent, an attorney connected
by marriage with my family, to request this gentleman to
come and consult with me upon the necessary steps towards
justifying myself, and confounding my accusers, if any
should dare to appear against me. But unhappily there
was no thought of trying me, as you will see by the atro-
cious result of this insolent mockery of justice. Mr. Vin-
ceiit, pursuant to my req lest, wrote in the ordinary course;,
86 memoirs or
to the secretary, Mr. Cooke, who seemed now to have
usurped all civil jurisdiction in such cases, for leave to
coine to me, and received for answer, a refusal. That I
might he apprised of this, for he dared not now come him-
self, even in sight of my prison, he copied Mr. Cooke's
note, and sent it open, by my servant John, who delivered
it to be read by the gaoler; and afterwards it was hand-
ed up through the iron bars of my window, upon the point
of the sergeant's halberd. Such was the crime for which
this unfortunate young man was pursued, dragged forci-
bly from the house of Mr. Leeson to the barracks of
the Cavan militia, where he was put to the cruelist torture.
One executioner was brought to relieve another: his back
and shoulders were first mangled, and then the rest of his
body bared, and wantonly lacerated. This done, he was
thrown raw and smarting upon the boards of the guard-
room, with a threat of a similar execution on the following
day, which he certainly must have undergone, had not Mr.
Leeson made interest to save him, a favor which he with
difficulty obtained. Though the bringing of the letter
touching the subject of my trial, was the pretext for this in-
famous deed; yet the farther object appeared during the
execution: for, as often as the torture was suspended, the
young man was exhorted to save himself by some denuncia-
tion of Ms master. Such was the end of that famous notice
of trial, of which, from that day forward, I could never hear
a word.
From this faithful servant himself, I never should have
heard of this transaction, so generously anxious was he to
spare me such vexation in the then dangerous state of my
health. But I had a doctor who was not so tender, and
^ho seemed to take pleasure in announcing it to me. As
WILLIAM SAMPSON. g?
this doctor made part of the system, it is right I should say
a few words of him.
Being deeply affected in my lungs, I had requested to see
some physician in whom I could confide. But, instead of
that indulgence, there was sent me a certain Mr. Trevor,
from the military hospital, a surgeon and apothecary; but
whose chief practice, one would suppose, had heen to stand
by at military executions, and prescribe how much a pa-
tient could be made to suffer short of the crime of murder.
Amongst civilized men a doctor is a friend, bringing to
suffering humanity the consolations it requires, and com-
forting even when he cannot cure. But such a person
would have 01 suited the views of the governing faction.
This man's first care was not for my health. His first or-
dinance was, that another bolt should be added to those
already sufficiently massive on my door, and to threaten
the turnkey with flogging if he did not keep me close.
How far the turnkey deserved to be whipped for his tco
much tenderness, you will judge from his history, which I
had from his own mouth. As he was another part of the
system, it may be worth relating.
His name was John M'Dougall. He was a native of
the county of Down, and having been formerly, daring the
time of the hearts of steel, charged with various crimes,
amongst which was the burning of Mr. Waddel Cunning-
ham's house; and his name proclaimed in the news-papers
with a reward for his arrest; he took advantage of his re-
ligion to save him from the fate that threatened him. For,
about that time, Mr. George Robert Fitzgerald had adver-
tised for Protestants to replace the Papist tenantry on his
lands, as these latter being proscribed for their religion's
^ake, and deprived of the privilege of voting for members
28 MEMOIRS Or
bf parliament, were unserviceable to his ambition, and as
such to be turned off his estate. Every body knows by
what crime that unhappy man. endowed with the joint ad-
vantages of birth, talents, and education, forfeited his life;
and of the fate that he, with his principal accomplice,
Breaknoch, was sentenced to undergo. John M'Dougall*
who had been too near a witness of the death of Mr. Patrick
Randall M'Donnell, was however reserved for other desti-
nies. Ke once more found it not imprudent to emigrate,
and for this time took refuge in Scotland, where, having
unfortunately knocked out the eye of a man, he, in order
to wash out this offence, in his zeal for his king and coun-
try, and to merit the rewards given to those who forward
the recruiting service, swore two of his prosecutors to be
deserters from the army, and himself enlisted in the Dum=
barton Fencibles, to fight in the great cause of the throne
and the altar.
On his return from Guernsey, where he had been some
years in garrison, he found, in Ireland, in a congenial ad-
ministration, the road to new promotion, and was selected
from his corps as the fittest for the office he now held*
You will, perhaps, be curious to know how so finished a
politician could have been so much off his guard, as to
make these confessions to a prisoner under his care. I,
myself was much surprised at it; but it seems wisely or-
dained, that seme fatality should ever hang upon the rear
of enormity, and detection almost ever follow guilt, though
often too late for this world's justice. What led to these
discoveries was as follows:
Colonel Maxwell, of the same militia regiment, in whose
barracks, and by whose soldiers my servant had been tor=
*ared; and one of whose officers (Mr. Colclough) had af-
WIIXIAM SAMP60W. eg
firmed, that he had found, amongst my papers, a French
general's commission: this colonel, son of a right reverend
bishop, had, about this time, made a motion in the House
of Commons, that the prisoners in the civil custody should
be taken out and dealt with militarily. I believe, without
exaggeration, that this was no less than to say, that we
should all be murdered. And it was given to understand'
that my life, with that of the rest of the prisoners, should
be answerable for the approach of any insurgents towards
the prison.
The manner in which the terrorists of the House of Com-
mons had received this motion, made it plain how many
ready instruments there were for such a crime: I therefore
attempted to engage Mr. M'Dougall, by his interest, not
to take part in such a murder; and I was fortunate enough
to surmount every scruple, save the sense of danger to him-
self, and the additional difficulty of his escaping after being
so long proclaimed with a reward for his arrest, and a
description published of his person. Thus it was, that bal-
ancing between avarice and fear, he deigned to make me
this revelation, and favor me with his confidence.
I will, however, before I pass this man of confidence by
give you another characteristic anecdote of him: One day,
after a long and rigorous seclusion* he proposed to let me*
through special indulgence, go down to amuse myself with
another prisoner in the court-yard. So new, and so grati-
fying a permission, was not to be refused. He turned the
key in the outer door to prevent surprise, and a day or
two afterwards I missed a number of guineas from a sack
which I had always left loose. Upon missing this money
I applied to doctor Trevor, who, instead of doctor, was
now iu the character of a military inspector of these strong
StJ MEMOIRS <»l
places, and a cotfnterchecfc upon the humanity of the gaol-
ers. A search was promptly and peremptorily decreed.
John M'Dougall was taken by surprize; and in his first
flurry, discovered that he had twelve guineas stitched up
in the waistband of his breeches; but he said it would soon
appear clear to every body that they were not my guineas,
but his own, as they would he found mildewed, being the
same he had carried with him over the seas to the island
of Guernsey, and from thence home again. This asser-
tion, whatever pretensions he might have as an alchemist,
proved him but a bad chemist. But there was another
stumbling block. Besides that the guineas were all
bright and shining, many of them were coined after the
time of his sailing for Guernsey: and besides, they were
wrapped up in a morsel of a Dublin journal, which he had
brought for me the very day on which he had so kindly
let me into the court to take the air. However, he now had
time to rally his ingenuity, and deliberately accounted for
the whole, by saying that his wife had some days ago sold
a web of linen to a captain in the regiment, now absent
upon duty: that upon the receipt of the price of it, they had
counted their common stock together, made a new reparti-
tion, and that he had stitched up what fell to his share, as
was his military custom, in the waistband of his breeches.
I proposed for common satisfaction, that the captain
should be written to; but it was not done, and Mr. M*
Dougall, furbishing up his musket, told one of the prison-
ers that he would revenge his reputation upon me. I
knew that if he was tolerated for robbing me, he would be
more than indemnified for murdering me: I therefore
proposed peace and the statu quo, which was accepted,,
But such was the doctor, and such the guardian; the only
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 31
two beings of my species with whom I was permitted to
converse, and that only when the one came his daily
rounds as a spy, to see that I received no indulgence; and
the other opened my door to give me what was necessary
to my existence.
Once, indeed, there came three gentlemen deputed from
the grand jury, to visit me with the other prisoners under
notice of trial. They asked me, if I had any thing to repre-
sent to the court then sitting, or to the jury? I told them that
my health was bad; that I requested to be tried, and was
ready at a moment's warning. For this intrusion, I myself
heard the doctor threaten these grand jurors, and reprove
the keeper: For he said, that Mr. Cooke alone had the
power to dispose of us. I never heard that these grand ju-
rors were whipped: — if they were not, I hold them for %
Inmate.
LETTER III.
Lord Cornwallis — Sir Ralph Mercrombie..
AT length, to pass over a world of odious details,
came the marquis Cornwallis, bringing words of peace,.
Civil and military licentiousness were now at their height.
You must have heard that when the gallant and' respected
Abercrombie, since dead in the field of honor, was sent to
command the army in Ireland, he found it impossible to make
head against so much crime and anarchy. [The combined
efforts of Clare and Carhampton, and the weakness of what
they called a strong government, had driven the whole peor
fl£J MEMOIRS 0¥
pic to rebellion, and made enemies of almost every honest
man. The old and respectable magistrates, men of proper-
ty and reputation in the country, were struck out of the
commission of the peace, and foreign mercenaries put into
it. The population of whole districts were swept without
remorse on board tenders and prison ships; and fathers of
families torn from their poor and peaceful cottages, to be
sent on board the British fleet, where the tale of their bitter
and just complaint was to form the leaven of that fearful
event so aptly called Carhampton's mutiny; and wliich was
like to have cost the king of England more than the violence
of a million of such men, with their strong governments,
could ever do him good. Weak men, they had not minds to
conceive that the only strong government is that which is
strong in the coiifidence and security of the people governed.
They called these crimes, dictated by their own petty pas-
sions, by the name of "vigor beyond the law." So Robbes-
piere called his. In short, he and his associates seemed in
every thing, except sincerity, to be their model. The dif-
ference was, that his cruelties fell chiefly on the rich and
great; theirs afflicted the humble and the poor. The elo.
quence of Europe has been exhausted in reprobating his
crimes. The mention of theirs, is still treason and death.
Alas! the advocates of the poor are few, and their reward is
ruin. To celebrate successful villany, is the sure road to
gain and to preferment. Had I been capable of stooping to
such baseness, instead of opposing myself to the unparallel-
ed oppression of my countrymen, those who have persecuted
me, know, in their own hearts, how open the road of fortune
was to me. But nature and a virtuous education had made
me differently, and if my conduct has been criminal, I own
I am incorrigible; for, with all the time and reason I have
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 33
had for sober reflection, I cannot see in what essential cir-
cumstance I could better discharge the duties I owe to God?
to my fellow creatures and to myself. Prudence might pos-
sibly, were the same events to recur, dictate some safer
course; but virtue could offer nothing more pure. Nor have
I been the dupe of any deceitful hope or passion. I saw but
too clearly from the first, how, in such a state of things, in
attempting to do good, one must expose one's self to mis-
chief; and it is to that settled principle I owe the courage
which has been my safety and consolation through so many
trials. If it were otherwise, and that I could suppose my
conduct criminal, I know of but one way of future remedy
for all such evils; that is, that we should hereafter educate
our offspring in the contempt of what is generous and honest,.
You have children, my friend, and so have I, Shall we cal-
culate, that the times to come, will always resemble those we
have seen? Shall we, judging by such example, train up
their tender minds in calculating profligacy? Shall we sti-
fle, in its birth, every generous feeling of compassion and
humanity? Shall we teach them to mock at the love of
their country? Shall we teach them the cant and outward
form of a pure religion of equality and justice; but at the
same time inure them to plunder and to murder in ili(^
name of that religion? Shall we give them early lessons,
that restraints are only for the vulgar and that he, who
does not prefer his avarice and ambition to every other
consideration, is a fool; and if he is inflexible against se-
duction, he should be hunted as a traitor? — Were these con-
siderations rigorously pursued, how far would they not
lead? further, I fear, than is for your happiness or mine.
Let us rather encourage the hope, that crime will not al?
ways triumph, and justice may yet return: that our off-
u4 MEMOIRS 0*
spring may be honest, and yet be happy .And let me fbr the
present resume the thread of this extraordinary narrative.
I have mentioned, that Sir Ralph Abercrombie had beea
obliged to abdicate the command of the army in Ireland. I
am not obliged to conjecture what his reasons were. He
frankly and consistently with his manly character publish-
ed them in one short sentence, where he said that this fa-
mous army of Carhampton "had became contemptible to its
enemies, and formidable only to its friends." And true his
words did prove, when the half naked peasants of a few
counties of Ireland, without arms or ammunition, or any
other leaders than those there was not wisdom to deprive
them of, their miser y and their despair could wage war and
gain victories over the most costly army of Europe.
Lord Cornwallis, something wiser than his predecessors,
or at least unactuated by party spite, saw how nearly all
Was lost, and formed a better plan. He shut up the houses
of torture. He forbade pitched caps to be burned on men's
heads. He put an end, in a great measure, to the ravish-
ing of women and the killing or whipping of Irishmen for
sport. He interdicted half hanging to extort confessions.
He put a stop to much of the petty-fogging and chicaning
part of the administration; and he offered pardon and pro-
tection to such as would lay down their arms and return to
their homes. But unhappily, whether it was that the fac-
tion were too strong for him and wished to blacken him as
faithless and disloyal, and to gratify their jealousy by
thwarting his measures, certain it is that many had n6
sooner laid down their arms, than they were murdered de-
fenceless, and in one instance particularly, the massacre of
Glencoe was acted over on the Curragh of Kildare. — ( See
Appendix, JVo. II. J
WILLIAM SAMPS OS. 35
It was but justice, however, to this nobleman, to relate
tne instance in which he asserted his dignity with true
energy. Two yeomen, so they called themselves, had
gone to the house of a poor widow; whilst one guarded the
door, the other went in, dragged a young boy from his sick
bed, and in contempt even of a protection which he had re-
ceived from the government, shot the son in the arms of his
mother. The culprit, on his trial, avowed the fact; and au-
Variously called upon several officers to justify him under
military orders, and to depose upon their oaths that what
he did was his duty. And in their 9ense so it certainly
was, and he was readily acquitted. But lord Cornwallis
saw it differently, and ordered his disapprobation of the sen-
tence to be read in open court, to lord Enniskellen, the presi-
dent, and the other officers composing the court martial; dis-
qualifying them forever from setting on any other court
martial, and the yeoman from ever serving the king. And
this, as it was strongly stated, in his order published offi-
cially in the news-papers, "for having acquitted, without
any pretext, a man guilty upon the clearest and uncontradicted
evidence of a wilful and deliberate murder." Perhaps you
Will wonder that I should state this fact as any thing extra-
ordinary: you will be surprised, possibly, to hear that any
Country, where the British constitution was professed,
should be in such a state of wretchedness, that an act of
justice, no stronger than the punishment of murder and mis-
prison by a reprimand, should excite furious animosity on
one side, and transports of admiration on the other. But
so long had the reign of terror lasted, that the very men-
tion of bringing any of this faction to justice, was looked
upon by the rest, as an insolent encroachment upon their
murderous prerogatives. Nor would this story have been
J'o 'MEMOIRS O*
ever known either to lord Cornwall's or the public, more
than to thousands of others buried with the victims in the
grave, had it not been for the accidental protection afford-
ed to this poor widow, by a lady of fortune and fashion—
Mrs-. Latouche.
LETTER IV.
Negotiation — Byrne — Bond.
AFTER several months of cruel and secret im-
prisonment, a Mr. Crawford, an attorney, was first 'per-
mitted to break the spell of solitude, and enter my prison
door. This gentleman had been employed in the defence
of Mr. Bond, Mr. Byrne, and others, for whose fate I was
much interested, and on this title introduced himself to my
confidence. lie descanted with ability upon the excellent
views of the Marquis Cornwallis, so unlike his predeces-
sors. He drew a strong picture of the unhappy state of
the country, and proposed to me, as to one free from even
the pretence of accusation; but one, he was pleased to say,
whose character might inspire confidence, to become the
instrument of a pacification, and to promote a reconcilia-
tion between the government and the state prisoners; which
could not fail, he said, to end in the general good of the
people and save the lives of many thousands.
I, though neither chief nor leader of a party, nor in any
way connected with responsibility, was yet too warm a
friend to the peace and union of my country, and to gene-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 37
ral humanity, to be inaccessible to such a proposition.
But I little thought my compliance was to lead to all the
injuries and atrocities I have since been loaded with. I
confined myself, however, to advising this gentleman ra-
ther to apply to some person more marking in politics than
me, who might have more lead among the people, and more
knowledge of their feelings or intentions. Mr. Crawford
upon this obtained leave for Mr. Arthur O'Connor, then
in secret in another part of the prison, to come to speak
with me, which he did at my request; but at this time re-
fused taking any step. Nor did I ever meddle further in
the business, than to recommend conciliation between the
parties, and to intreat my kinsman, Mr. Dobbs, a member
of the then parliament, to accept the office of mediator,
merely because I knew him to be of a mild and benevolent
disposition, and this was the actual commencement of that
treaty so remarkable in itself and so strangely violated.
It is foreign to my purpose to say by what steps the ne-
gotiation proceeded; further than as a well-wisher to peace
and humanity, it was considered by nobody to be any con-
cern of mine. But I was for some time induced by appear-
ances to suppose, that good faith and good understanding
prevailed between the ministers and the people: and the
day I was told was fixed for ?ny enlargement, as one
against whom no charge had ever been made. Upwards
of seventy prisoners, against whom no evidence appeared,
had signed an act of self-devotion, and peace was likely to
be the result. There was so much courtesy, that I was
more than once permitted to go out of the prison, where I
had before been locked up in rigorous solitude, and to re-
turn on my word. And Mr. O'Conner, now in the Fort
St. George in Scotland, a close prisoner, was once on his
38 3IEM0IRS OF
return from Kilmainham, where he had gone upon parole
to sec his fellow prisoners and colleagues in that negotia-
tion, challenged by the centinels, and refused admission.
On one side, it appears by this, there was as much good
faith as there has been cruel perfidy on the other.
One day, as we were all together in the yard of the
bridewell, it was announced that the scaffold was erected
for the execution of William Byrne; the preservation of
whose life had been a principal motive for the signature of
many cf the prisoners to the agreement abovementioned.
We were all thunderstruck by such a piece of news: but I
was the more affected when I learned, that Lord Cornwal-
lis had been desirous of remitting the execution, but that
the faction had overborne him in the council, by arguing
that the agreement was ineffective, inasmuch as Mr. 0'
Conner nor I had not signed it. In that moment I sent to
Mr. Dobbs, to intreat that he would hurry to the castle, and
offer my signature, on condition that this execution should
be suspended; but unhappily it was too late. The terror-
ists had surrounded the scaffold, and that brave youth was
hurried, undaunted, to his death! This deed filled me with
horror. I had never known any thing of William Byrne,
until I had found means of conversing with him in our
common prison. Through favor of Mr. Bush, once my
friend, and then employed as his counsel, he obtained leave
to consult with me on the subject of his trial; and certain-
ly whatever can be conceived of noble courage, and pin's
and perfect heroism, he possessed. His life was offered
him on condition that he would exculpate himself, at the
expense of the reputation of the deceased lord Edward
Fitzgerald; and the scorn with which he treated tins offer
was truly noble. Go, says he, to the herald of that odious
proposition, and tell the tempter that sent you, that I have
inown no man superior to him you would calumniate, noi
WU.tI.lM SAMPS OK, 39
■
hone more base? than him who makes this offer. It is not
necessary to be a partisan of lord Edward Fitzgerald, nor
acquainted with the sufferings and oppressions of the un-
fortunate Irish people, to feel the dignity of such a reply.
One must be dead to the feelings of generosity, sacred even
amongst enemies, not to be touched with it. The more so,
when it is known, that this young man, who was but one
and twenty years of age, was married to the woman that
he loved, and had, within a few days, received a new
pledge of fondness, and a new tie to life, in the birth of a
first child. He had been loyally enrolled in a corps of
volunteers, until the persecutions and horrors committed
upon those of his persuasion, for he was of a Catholic fam-
ily, drove him from the ranks of the persecutors into the
arms of rebellion. Had there been men less weak, and
less wicked, in the government of Ireland; or a system of
less inhumanity, he, with thousands now in exile or in the
grave, would have been its boast and ornament, and the
foremost in virtue and in courage to defend it.
By the death of William Byrne, the work of blood
seemed recommenced, and the life of Oliver Bond was next
threatened. I had much friendship for this man, and great
respect for his virtues. He had already suffered much
from persecution, and borne it with great fortitude. He
was generally esteemed for his good morals, beloved by
his Mends, and respected even by his enemies. I had of-
ten partaken of his hospitality, and seen him happy amidst
his family. He was now under sentence of death, which
he seemed himself to despise. His virtuous wife appeared
to me in my prison; and though she did not venture to
urge me, her silent looks were irresistible persuasion. It
might depend upon my consent whether she were to-mor-
row a widow or a wife. Whether her poor babes were to
be restored to the smiles of a fond father, »r be fatherless.
40 MEMOIES OP
Tlic deep regret I had for the fate of Wiiliam Byrne,
lushed full into my mind, and I determined to make that
sacrifice which must ever please upon reflection. My had
health, indeed, at that moment lessened the price I had to
give; my life was entirely despaired of by my friends.
Yet this friend died a few days after, unaccountably, in
his prison, whilst I, after a series of unexambled persecu
tion, live to tell his story and my own.
IETTEK V.
Case stated — Union.
WITH respect to the other prisoners, every one of
them seemed to treat death and danger with contempt.
The memorial drawn up hy three of them in their own
justification and that of their cause, has already been in
print, as well as the interrogatories and answers of such
of them as were examined before the committee, touching
the intended resistance and arming of the country. To
these things I was a stranger, further than this, that I was
an enemy to violation and torture; and determined on all
occasions that offered to resist it, which I always openly
declared. By the agreement I had signed the ministers
were entitled to examine me, if they thought proper. But
for the same reasons that they did not try me, the) did not
examine me. They knew that it would tend, not to their
advantage, but to mine. As to the alliance with France,
I knew it first by the ministerial publications, and they had
so often asserted it when it was not true, that I, with'many
others, disbelieved it even after it was so. But I saw
Willi AM SAMPSON. 41
crimes with my own eyes, to which, to suhmit, would be
degrading to the name of man, and for not submitting to
which, I am now an exile.
You will expect, perhaps, some distinct accounts of these
transactions; but for this, I should rather refer you to the
publications where it is to be found.
A principal one is the memoir of the three state prison
ers, Emmet, M'Neven, and 0?Connor.|
This statement appears full of strength and candor, and
it was curious to observe at the time, that whatever merit
the ministers made to the crown of their discoveries, they
seemed to shrink entirely from the publication of them,
whilst the prisoners insisted upon their avowals being pub-
lished, as the undisguised and unstudied justification of
their cause.
Much turned upon points of chronology: for, however
great the causes and the feelings of general discontent
were; whatever the long endured griefs of Ireland had
been; whatever some individuals might have meditated.,
none of the persons in question, nor lord Edward Fitz-
gerald, nor others of whom so much has been said, were of
the united system, nor was there any military organization
formed until after the summer of 1796: previous to this, the
persecution of the Catholics in Armagh, and the neighbor-
ing counties; the adoption and protection of the Orange-
men; the passing of penal acts of such extreme severity,
and the cruel execution of them; and particularly the insur-
rectio?i act, which amounted in itself to as complete a revo-
lution as if the king had been deposed, or had abdicated^
had all taken place. Until these times, if the British con-
t See the pieces of Irish history, lately published by 1)&
William James M'Nevin, p. 207„
J?
4d MEMOIRS OF
stitution had not been practised in Ireland, it had been at
least professed, particularly since its nominal indepen-
dence had been guaranteed by the king and parliament.
I need not tell you, that the essence of that constitution is,
that men should be tried by juries of their fellow-citizens,
their peers; and by the law of the land; and in no arbitra-
ry manner deprived of life, liberty or property. If it be
not this, it is nothing but a shadow or a sound. But by
this revolutionary act, proclamations were to stand for
laws. And justices of the peace, often foreign mercenary
soldiers, were to take place of juries, and had the power of
proclaiming counties and districts out of the king's peace.
Horrible and barbarous sentence! These justices were
made and cashiered by the breath of lord Clare, a man vio-
lent and vindictive. And if ever in better times the list of
these justices comes to be enquired into, it will be found of
such a complexion as to be of itself an ample comment upon
the spirit of the parliament, and those who had the dominion
over it. Perhaps I shall, at some other time, when I have
concluded this narrative, send you an abstract of this and
the other laws and proclamations which fomented this re-
bellion. But it would too much impede the course of that
which you alone have asked of me, my own particular his-
tory. At present I shall barely observe, that the minis-
ters who made a merit of having hastened the rebellion by
their cruelties, might, without much violence of conjecture,
be presumed to have planned it. The suppressing, by the
bayonet, of the county meetings, assembled for the constitu-
tional purposes of petitioning the king, is another strong
proof that they had done what they feared to have made
known; and the dungeoning the prisoners, to whose emi-
gration they had agreed, is another as, strong. To revo-
WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 43
lutionize their country, was a crime in them; but it would
Siare been less so to avow their approbation of the project-
ed union, than first to have invoked heaven to witness that,
they would consent to no change of their constitution;; then
to put nine-tenths of their countrymen under the ban of the
most diabolical proscription. To have introduced torture
into their native country, and finished by promoting what
they had sworn never to endure.
Such was the faction that ruled the parliament of Ire-
land. Such was that degraded parliament itself. All the
public records of history or of law; all the votes, procla-
mations, addresses; all the acts of parliament, and they
are the most wonderful ever yet seen; all the reports of
committees, secret or open, go to prove, that the evil still
increased as their ignorant and vicious remedies were
applied. It could not therefore be otherwise than a labor-
ed point on their side; and it is easily explained why they
so much dreaded and do dread to this day, that the truth
should escape out of bondage.
It is doubtless for this reason that the state prisoners are
still shut up in Fort St. George, contrary to an agreement
made near four years ago,f that they should go abroad,.
Perhaps it was for no other reason that the petitions of the
people were prevented from approaching the throne. And
the peaceable petitioners are assembled under every regula-
tion of strict law, treasonably dispersed by the bayonet.
And that printers were imprisoned or assassinated, and
, their houses wrecked or burned. Mr. O'Conncr, in hi$
letter to lord Castlereagh, dated from his prison, states,
that his evidence, written and verbal, contained a hundred
fThese letters were written several years since in Frances
3*hen the prisoners were still in custody,
44 MEMOIRS 01
pages, out of which one only was published, and ninety-niiie
suppressed. For my own part, my interest, my connections
and my hopes, lay decidedly with the court party, rather
than the people. It certainly was nothing but the convic-
tion of the great oppression of my country, which is written
in so plain a hand that every eye can read it, that could
have engaged me to take any part. But in the course of
my profession of an advocate, I have been a witness of sys-
tematic outrage, such as I once thought had forever disap-
peared with the past ages of barbarity. I have, in this res-
pect, as in every other, endeavored to discharge my duty
with honor and fidelity; and I have been no otherwise than
I had foreseen, the victim of that duty and that native ab-
horrence which I have of crime. It mav be said, however*
that if there were horrors on one side, there were crimes
also on the other. I do not say the contrary. Oppression
ever generates crimes; and if those who enjoy, in the social
scheme, wrealth, rank and power, are not contented with-
out trampling on the common rights of their fellow-citizens,
they must ever live in the fear of bitter retaliation. Let
me now7 ask any man, from whatever quarter of the world,
who has at any time chanced to visit my country, and to
witness its position: let me challenge him who has ever
read its history, to say whether, in any civilized region of
the world, there exists a system of greater misgovernment
and cruelty; or a country so formed by the hand of nature
for the choicest happiness, where there is such an accumu-
lated weight of misery. If any crimes have been commit-
ted, and doubtless there must have been, it is to this cause
that they are due. I may be supposed partial to my coun-
trymen, and I am not ashamed of being so. But I do think,
that there is no where a people on the earth capable, with
William sampscw. 45
-jail their faults upon their heads, of more exalted virtue.
Ardor, generosity of heart, industry and courage, deserve
a higher rank amongst the people of the earth, however
long and systematic oppression may have labored, in some
respects too successfully, to degrade and vilify them.
I feel myself the better qualified to speak in this behalf*
as I have no need of justification for myself. No one hav-
ing yet dared to mention any crime I have committed, at
least in such a manner as to deserve an answer. When
any person does so, I have a victorious answer, For, un-
less it be a crime, as I have said, to resist rape and torture,
Jias any one ever been able to fix the shadow of crime on
me? The English ministry and their dependants, may
applaud and glorify themselves for having, by a great
stroke of policy, duped all parties in my country, and
through o ir civil calamities, obtained their ends; but it is
too bare-faced even for them to say, that it was criminal in
us to try to keep our country independent and united.
But to return to this point of history and fact, which is
the hinge of the whole, and most important to be explained.
The committee, finding that no alliance was formed until
after the insurrection act; that the project of arming and
resistance of a very recent date; and that the numbers and
proselytes to the union had encreased in an equal ratio with
the cruelties inflicted on the people; and that these cruelties
had driven so many men of talents and consequence into
the ranks; and that few of the present leaders were, until
after these cruelties, so well calculated to act upon the con-
sciences of virtuous men, in any way concerned with the
system. This committee found it necessary to their inter-
est, to steer dexterously round this point, and accordingly
tjiey had recourse to the opinions of Mr, Tone. H-2 had
4G MEMOIRS OF
arowed frankly, before the tribunal met, to pass judgment
of death upon him, (See Appendix, JVfo. III. J that he had
meditated much upon the subject, and saw no redemption
for his country, but in its separation from that one which
held it in bondage. Now this reference to Mr. Tone's
opinion, challenged an obvious answer from those whose
justification might seem to require it.
At the time that Mr. Jackson was sent from France, to
get information of the condition and feelings of the people
of England and Ireland, he addressed himself, amongst
others, to Mr. Tone. This gentleman was supposed to
have drawn up that acute statement read upon Jackson's
trial, in which he made the true distinction between the
feelings of the English and Irish people; not founded upon
vague abstractions, or arbitrary conceits, but upon the
solid ground of their different moral and physical existence-
He shewed, that the mass of the Irish people were in that
state that rendered all nations most fit for rebellion and
for war. That the people of England, whatever grievances
they had, were more respected, less oppressed, and less
insulted. That it might be presumed, the Irish would
g'adly embrace deliverance from any hand, but that the
English people were not yet at that point. I only from
memory undertake to give you some lines of this paper; I
remember it the rather from having been employed on the
trial of Mr. Jackson, and having published it verbally from
short hand notes. I knew very little of Mr. Tone; and
had only, until then, had occasion to admire him as a man
of engaging and amiable qualities. It remained for the
vicious administrations in Ireland to do justice to the po-
litical sagacity with which he calculated upon their mis-
government and the misery of the people: and to increase
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 47
his partizans from perhaps half a dozen speculative politi-
cians, which he might have had at first, to six hundred
thousand fighting men, if we may believe the assertion of
the minister lord Castlereagh.
But it is said we are now united with England, and
such questions should he buried in oblivion. I deny the
fact. One step towards that union is certainly gained)
the consent of England! Whether Ireland may consent I
do not know. I am far from taking upon me to say the
contrary. But before that can be known, the nation must
be let out of prison, or recalled from banishment, and
fairly treated with. If we reap no other benefit than
whips, racks, and house-burnings, free quarters and mar-
tial law. If there be no tenderer mode of wooing us thai*
this adopted, I have no scruple to protest against it as a
frightful treason, and a blood-stained union. We may be
obliged to submit, as we have heretofore done; we may Lc
governed by force, as we have been heretofore governed.
but we shall not have consented to this match of force, and
the people of Ireland may yet fly to the only consolation
left them, union amongst themselves; and grown wiser by
past errors, learn to pardon and forget; and instead ©f
looking back to causes of endless quarrel, look forward
with courage and with hope.
Certainly never union was formed under more imen-
gaging auspices. First, divisions were sown amongst the
ignorant upon the old pretext, religion, of which those that
scorn all religion, ever avail themselves. In the county
of Armagh, where this horror was first set on foot, it was
carried to such a pitch, that lord Gosfort, the governor of
the county, proclaimed, in an address to the magistrates,
that justice had slept in the county, and that more tfoap
48 memoirs or *
seven hundred families had been turned out houseless and
naked to seek for an habitation, and wander, unprotected,
exposed to the merciless rancour of their oppressors; and
that, during the most inclement season of the year, for no
other crime than that of professing the Roman Catholic faith,
the religion of their forefathers. fSee Appendix, No. IV. )
As long as there was a shadow of protection by law, I
labored to obtain justice for those suifcrers, and they were
many, who confided their cases to me, in the way of my
profession. I once, joined with Mr. Emmet, now in Fort
George, had the satisfaction of procuring an apparent sign
of justice in the conviction of a magistrate, who, for his
partiality and wanton cruelty, was sentenced to six months
imprisonment in Newgate, which he underwent. But as
the plot took consistency, this shew of justice was revoked.
Juries were altogether discontinued, and lest any more
crir. ioals should be disquieted for their deeds, or any cen-
sure or scandal should follow injustice, bills of indemnity
were passed, the magistrate in question was rewarded
with a place, soldiers were set to do the work of jurors,
terror and butchery were organised, and at length the
people were driven into the project of arming for their de-
fence, and that alliance was finally formed, of which it is
not my concern to say any thing further; but winch, had
there been common justice in the country, never would
have happened.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 49
LETTER VI.
Treacher 11.
IT would be going too far to say, without proofs,
that the governing faction wished for this alliance witli
the French, which, however lightly it may now be treated,
was capable, but for some accidents of a precarious nature,
of wresting this country from the dominion of the British
monarch. But either upon the ground of intention or
misconduct, they certainly are responsible for it. Howev-
er, the miscarriage of that scheme gave them such power,
that it was in vain any longer to make head against them.
The most barbarous crimes they committed were sanc-
tioned by the name of loyalty ; and as they were masters
of every organ of the public voice, and their opposers
dumb, it is not wonderful that not only those of foreign
countries are ignorant of their cruelties, but that the peo-
ple of Great-Britain are likewise so. And what is more,
the very actors in these scenes are yet to learn the arts by
which they were duped into deeds, whereupon, hereafter,
they will look back with remorse; unless, indeed, that ca-
tastrophe, that union which they were ignorantly p : amot-
ing, has at length, though late, opened their eyes and
awakened their judgments.
I know that as often as the cruelties are mentioned, the
excesses committed by the people in rebellion, will be cited
to justify them. I think it is a poor whitewash of men's
reputation, that others have committed crimes: nor will
G
50 memoirs or
any reasonable being expect, that where the example of
dissoluteness and cruelty is set by those who hold the
greatest advantages in society; when they, to whom the
laws have guaranteed riches and power, are imprudent, as
well as wicked enough to set those laws at defiance; it is
too much to expect, with such an example before them, the
virtue of angels, or the meekness of lambs, from the igno-
rant and oppressed. It is true, the founder of the best re-
ligion has ordered his disciples, when smote on one cheek
to turn the other. But from the day that he said so, until
this that I now write to you, I never heard of any people
that conformed to that injunction. At all events, I am
happily a stranger to all the crimes committed on one side
and the other; and in this respect can speak with impartiali-
ty. And now, before I quit these points which it was ne-
cessary to explain, I shall state a profligate breach of
honor, which stands naked and unexcused by any pretext
of reason, policy, or prudence, and for which no man living,
I should suppose, will pretend to offer an excuse; a perfidy
of which I clearly have a right to speak most boldly, having
been myself the dupe and the victim of it.
The agreement which I signed in common with the other
prisoners, from the pure, and I think I may without vani-
ty say, the generous motives above stated, imported in ex-
press terms, that we the subscribers should emigrate, such
was the word, to such country not at war with Great-Bri-
tain, as should be agreed upon, taking with us our families
and our property. The prisoners, to use lord Castle-
reagh's words to doctor M'Nevin, had honorably fulfilled
their part of this agreement, and this lord assured them,
the government would religiously fulfil its part. Lord
Clare also used these emphatical words to Mr. O'Connors
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 51
« Mr. O'Connor, says he, it comes to this, either the govern*
ment must trust you, or ijou must trust it; and the gov
eminent that could violate an engagement so solemnly
entered into, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand!"
In this, certainly lord Clare said truly: but never were
more true words followed by more treacherous actions.
This agreement was violated, and these gentlemen are still
in prison.
For my part, it was upon the honor of lord Cornwallis
that I relied, and not upon the assertions of this junto,
They never, I must confess, deceived me, for I never
trusted them. How far the sequel will remain a blot upon
the name of Cornwallis, I leave to his own feelings to
decide.
It only rested for me, after the voluntary sacrifice I had
made, to act with fortitude, and without asking any favor,
to leave my ill-fated country, where atrocity led to honor,
and virtue to the scaffold; and to fix upon some other,
where I could retire in peace and safety. But what was
my surprise, when I was informed, that I should be allowed
to go to no country in Europe. Some time before, it was
asserted, that the minister of the United States had de-
clared, that the prisoners would not be admitted to take
refuge in America. Thomas Jefferson had not then pro-
nounced those words, honoring himself and his country:
shall there be no where an asylum on the earth for perse-
cuted humanity; and shall we refuse to the children of
oppression, that shelter which the natives of the woods
accorded to our fathers?
It had been recommended to me to go to Portugal, on ac-
count of my ruined health; and that country being governed
by England, seemed least liable of any to objection from the
§2 MEMOIRS OF
government; and my own intentions were, to abide faithful-
ly by the agreement I had consented to: so I could not even
in imagination, figure to myself the possibility of the dis-
graceful proceedings which have since taken place: I
therefore asked permission to go to Portugal, and this rea-
sonable request was no sooner made than refused. Hap-
pily I had a friend whose heart was warm and honest, and
whose courage and firmness in the cause of honor, was well
known in his youth, and seemed but to increase with his
years. This was Mr. Montgomery, the member for the
county of which I was a native. He was an old friend a' d
fellow-soldier of lord Cormvallis, and brother of Mont-
gomery, the hero of Quebec. He took upon him to stem
this torrent of persecution; and, after much difficulty, made
his way to the viceroy, through the phalanx of lords and
bishops that besieged him. He represented to him the
dangerous state of my health; the sacred manner in which
his honor was pledged to me; the cruel denial of justice or
trial; the torture of my servant, and my secret imprison-
ment. All this he represented with so much effect, that I
was immediately favored with the following letter:
To Counsellor Sampson, Bridewell.
Lord Castxereagh presents his compliments to
Mr. Sampson. He has the lord lieutenant's directions to
acquaint him, that he may go to Portuga?, as his health is
said to require it, on condition of giving security to remain
there during the war, unless ordered away by that govern*
ment.
Castle^ Tuesday,
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 55
I tlv'nk, my dear friend, I cannot now do bettor than
finish this letter, and give you and myself an opportunity
of reposing. For though you might suppose the malice
of my enemies by tins time pretty nearly exhausted, yet
you will find on the contrary, that my persecution was but
beginning, and you will have need of all your patience to
listen to the rest.— Farewell.
LETTER VII.
Chicane— Lie by Act of Parliament— Lord Casllereagji.
ONE would have hoped, that all difficulty was now
over. One might have supposed, that rancor itself had
been now assuaged. But on the contrary, every artifice
of delay, and every refinement of chicanery was again put
in practice, as if to torment me in revenge for the justice
I had obtained from lord Cornwallis, and the part I had
had in rescuing so many victims from the fury of their
pursuers. Weeks and months passed away, so great a
difficulty was made of drawing up a simple form of recog-
nisance pursuant to lord Cornwallis' order; a thing so
easy, had good faith been intended, that the meanest
clerk of an attorney was as capable of doing it, as the
first judge of the land. My brother and my brother-in-
law, both fathers of families in remote parts of the coun-
try, were all this time detained in the capital, and the
reason given for this vexation was, that this famous in-
strument was to be a precedent for the cases of all the other
54 MEMOlKs 01
prisoners; and yet a principal part of those prisoners are
now, at the distance of four years, in gaol; another instance
of that complicated perfidy to which I hare heen subjected.
At length every trick of malicious petty-fogging ex-
hausted; my family rendered miserable, and my health
almost ruined, I received from Mr. Marsden, a law se-
cretary, the following note:
" Mr. Marsden presents his compliments to Mr. Samp-
son, lie has been able to arrange finally with lord Cas-
tlereagh, the terms which Mr. Sampson must comply with,
previous to his sailing.
"Mr. Marsden encloses a form of recognisance, which
Mr. Sampson should execute. When that is done, there
need be no other delay."
Dublin Castle, October 4, 1798.
With this note was sent a form of security, in which
there was nothing remarkable, except the leaving out the
words in lord Cornwallis's order, "unless ordered away by
that government.'"
If so many months had not been spent in planning this
formality, namely, from the month of July, when I con-
sented to sign the agreement, until the month of October,
when I was told I must comply or stay in prison, I should
have thought nothing of this circumstance. Coupled with
what has since happened, it seems to warrant the supposi-
tion that it was predetermined I should be sent away from
Portugal. For I remember it was once given as a reason
for breaking faith with the prisoners, that no country
would receive them. Much influence, and much intrigue
was used to make that barbarous assertion true. And it
will be found by my case,, that frustrated in that view, no
WUXIAM SAMPSON. 55
malevolent refinement was spared to pursue us wherever
we should take refuge. But let the sequel explain itself.
I made no difficulty in subscribing it as it was ordered,
and thereupon I received the following passport:
Dublin Castle, Oct. 6, 1798.
Permit "William Sampson, Esq. to take his passage
from the port of Dublin, to any port in the kingdom of
Portugal, without hindrance or molestation.
By order of his excellency the lord lieutenant of Ire-
land.
Castxereagii.
To all port-officers, officers commanding**
his majeshfs ships, and others xvhom L (SEAL. J
it may concern. J
And upon the back was written: "Mr. Sampson is to
keep this passport in his possession." This, however, it
will be seen, I was not always allowed to do.
And on the same day, an order was sent for my en
largement, addressed to the keeper, with the following
letter to my brother, by the private secretary of lord Cas-
tlereagh:
Dear Sampson,
I SEND you an order, which I trust
to you, though I know not whether the business is done or
not. But I know you will not use it until you ought, and
then you see by it that your brother goes without either
guard or messenger. When there is no need of painful
steps, they will not be adopted by a government, which, I
56 MEMOIRS OF
assure you, never wishes to be unnecessarily severe. I
wish your brother happiness.
Tours,
Alexr. Knox.
Now it v. '11 be for you to judge how very forbearing
this government was from painful steps. A bill was
brought forward in parliament stating, or rather insinuat-
ing in the preamble that I, with many others therein named.,
had confessed myself guilty of treason and implored for
mercy. With more to that purpose, stated in the most
extravagant language, and finally making it felony for any
one to correspond with me.
Now, so far from confessing treason, I was ready, had
my persecutors dared to come to the trial, to have proved
treason upon them, and thrown the accusation in their
teeth. But they took good care of that, and never would give
me the advantage, of a trial, nor even an examination, nor
any mode of explanation whatever: and, as to imploring
their mercy, I would an hundred times sooner have im-
plored for death. Here then was an assertion by act of
parliament, of a gross and scandalous lie: but a lie that no-
body dared to contradict, for it was a lie by act of parlia-
ment; and parliament was omnipotent. And among the
many scourges that this parliament had lately inflicted
upon its bleeding country, was this: That they took upon
them to imprison their fellow-citizens arbitrarily, for
whatever they chose, in either house, to call a breach of
privilege. So here, without law or truth, or any sanction
of justice, they had made assertions of the vilest malevo-
lence, upon which were deliberately to be founded enactions
of the most heinous terrorism, and there was not left to the
WILLIAM SAMPSON, Sf
victims of this treachery, of whom I was one, any possible
means of defence. Vile men, which of you can say now,
at the distance of four years, what treason I confessed, or
whose mercy I implored? It is true this parliament of fa«
mous memory, soon after did justice on itself, and relieved
the groaning country from its crimes! It had long been
corrupt and morbid,- hut in its last convulsions, exceeded
all imagination. Witness the frantic abominations that it
vomited forth upon the people! If any future historian should
collect those laws, and give them in their order, as a supple-
ment to the former code of penal laws in Ireland, it would
be a monument, at least of curiosity, perhaps of melancholy
instruction. For amongst these laws, there were some
exciting directly to murder; others indemnifying it.
There were laws to promote kidnapping, and laws to sanc-
tion it; laws to raise rebellion, and laws to put it down.
To-day a proclamation that all was peace and loyalty; to-
morrow a report that all was war and treason. To-day it
wras a few miscreants; to-morrow a general massacre.
Sometimes it was atheism, sometimes delusion, and some-
times popery. In fact every cause was held out but the
true ones — oppression and misgovernment. So that, as
their crude nostrums were encreased, the evil augmented.
Every organ of complaint was choaked, and the nation be-
came one general prison, and military power executed the
decrees of individual malice. And those who had so often
pledged their "lives and fortunes" against all innovations,
at length threw off the mask: and after astonishing each
other by the measure of their own impudence, finished by
an act of desperate suicide. And to crown this deed, lord
Castlereagh, who had pledged himself upon the hustings,
and sworn to his constituents of the ,county of Down, to
H
?$ S1EM0IKS OF
persevere in purifying and reforming this parliament, and"
to promote such acts as were most for its independence,
was the first to cry fie upon it, and to stab. ( See Appen-
dix No. V.J Such was that man, who, by spurning at his
own sacred engagements and practising every art of po-^
litical falsehood, first a demagogue and then a tyrant,
had raised himself, with slender talents, to the place of
secretary of state, at a time when the suspension of the
habeas corpus had given to that office the right of arbitrary
imprisonment over all the kingdom. Such was the man
upon whose mandate I was torn from my family for being
"suspected*9 as it was expressed, "of treasonable practices."
Alas! I may be suspected, but in his own case there is sure-
ly no question of suspicion. May the moment when I
prove but the hundredth part so much a traitor, be the mo-
ment of my destruction. Is it not rank and foul, that the
best men in any country should be at the mercy of those
who make a public jest of truth and honor? When the
wise and the just are ground into the earth, and the puni-
est things that are, let them be but base and mischievous
enough, are raised to power!
I was now about to leave my prison, and to leave behind
me those fellow-sufferers with whom my acquaintance had
began in bridewell; but in none of whom I could ever trace
a disposition to crime of any kind. They, one and all,
seemed to be animated by an ardent desire of sacrificing
their lives in the deliverance of their country, from what
they conceived, I am sure too justly, to be oppression and
. tyranny. And their actions seemed to proceed from a
thorough conviction that they were right. At all events,
if this was an error, the proceedings which I have men-
tioned, of house-burning, wrecking, ravishing, denial of
WIIXIAM SAMPSOflV 5§
justice, breaking of faith, half-hanging and scourging;
dungeoning, kidnapping and picketing, and other torture
to extort confessions; free quarters, religious proscriptions,
martial law, and all of those execrable measures, of the
horrors of which, no one who has not seen it, can have any
idea. These proceedings surely were not calculated tn
cure them of their errors.
LETTER VIII.
Lovely Peggy — Lovely Mary — Shipwreck*
THERE was now a small vessel ready to sail for
Lisbon, called the Lovely Peggy, captain Knight; and it
was stipulated that I should take my passage on board of
her. On the same evening that I received the order to
the gaoler to set me free, I lost not a moment in going to
this captain, to make the necessary arrangements. And
my faithful but unfortunate man, John Russel, followed
after me, fearing perhaps some insult; for which act of
zeal he was once more to pay dear, as you will see.
It was on .the night of the rejoicings for the victory of
Lord Nelson; and many of the yeomanry were in disorder
through the streets. There was a group squibbing off
cartridges on the flaggs in Abbey street, through which I
was to pass; and one of them taking offence, that we wore
our hair short, called out, "croppies" which was their
word of attack; and just as we passed, fired a blunt car-
tridge into John's shoulder. I paid no attention to the sliot^
60 MEMOIRS OP
net knowing what had happened; and I had now a fresh
proof of the magnanimity of my unfortunate companion;
for he never disclosed what had happened until we were at
a considerable distance, fearing, and justly, that my pa-
tience might not have been proof against such atrocity:
but when at length he thought it time to discover the
wound he had received, I went with him into a shop to
examine it, and found that his clothes had been pierced
through, and the point of the cartridge forced into the
very bone. The contusion was attended with violent
swelling, and the pain doubtless aggravated extremely, by
the quantity of unburned gunpowder which was buried in
his flesh. Such was the event of the first ten minutes of1
my liberty; after a seclusion of so many months. At
ieast, it was well calculated to cure me of any regret I
might have at leaving my native country, which I had
loved but too well, and where I could boast certainly, that
the esteem of my fellow-citizens was a great part of my
crime. Having thus once more escaped assassination, a
fate I have not been unfrequently threatened with, we re-
;urned to bridewell; where, with my wife, I spent the last
evening in the society of my fellow-sufferers.
The following day I had occasion to buy a number of
filings in the shops, and also to go to the custom-house for
d paper called a bill of health.: but was no sooner return-
ed to my lodgings, than my brother came to tell me, that
the castle was crouded with persons flocking there to com-
plain of my being suffered to appear in the streets. A
strange instance, at once, of the meanness and impudence
of that faction, and of the extent to which injustice had de-
graded the government of that hapless country. Mi\
Knox accused my brother of an abuse of confidence, m
WILLIAM SAMPSON". 6l
trusting me with the order for my enlargement, without
restraining me from such an open act of defiance as that
of appearing in the streets. I confess, that much as I had
seen, and much as I had heard, and much as I had felt, I
was not without astonishment at such perteiiacious extrav^
. agance. But so it is, that when men have been for a
length of time actuated by party spirit, still more by ter-
ror, which entirely takes away the understanding, they
no longer perceive what is right or what is wrong; what
is decent or what is unbecoming. And in this abandon-
ment of their judgment, and even of their senses, they ral-
ly to the first absurdity that wears the colour of their pre-
judices; and when it comes to that, it is as great madness
on the other side to expect any thing from reason. The
only remedy then to be hoped is, from time that tries all
opinions. My brother told me, that it was desired by his
friend, that I should write to excuse myself for having
been seen in the streets; and, as he had every title to my
compliance that an affectionate brother and a sincere
friend could have, I acquiesced without hesitation in the
following manner as nearly as I can remember: I men-
tioned that it was in consequence of an order to come out.
of prison, that I appeared in the streets; there being no
other way of coming out of prison than through the
streets; and that it was the more necessary, as having ,
engaged to go immediately abroad, I was obliged to pro-
vide myself instantly with what was necessary for my de-
parture. That I was sure the government was powerful
enough to guarantee its own order; but if it were other-
wise, and that it would condescend to accept of my sup-
port, which I had now the honor of offering for the first
time, I would defend the agreement it had made with me,
■■U Memoirs Gl-
and the order given for my liberation, With both nv^
hands, against whoever should dare to stop me; and that,
without giving the government the trouble of interfering
in the least. I do not know whether this note was pleas-
ing or otherwise, but I heard no more of the matter; and,
by my brother's desire, I seldom went out afterwards but
in a carriage, and that towards dinner hour, although I
was at liberty for near two months, during which time I
made, as you will see, four unsuccessful attempts to leave
my enemies behind me.
It is incredible how much I suffered during the greatest
part of the months of October and November. Four dif-
ferent times I went to sea, and was as often driven back
by furious gales of wind into the same harbor. The ves-
sel was very small and deeply laden. In the cabin I could
not be upright, and on the deck it was always wet. This
with the sea sickness and my habitual ill health, brought
me back each time to my family more like a spectre
than a living man. At length I was utterly unable to pro-
ceed; and it was, but not without much harshness, agreed
that I should wait a few days for another vessel going out
to Oporto. This was a brig called the Lovely Mary. The
Lovely Peggy went the fifth time without me, and was
captured by the Spaniards.
Baring all this season the weather was so tempestuous,
that our coasts were covered with wrecks.
There was an interval of some days between the quitting
of the Peggy and embarking in the Mary, that I spent in
peace in the bosom of my family. But the genius of per-
secution could not tolerate this: and the town-major, Mr.
Sirr, was sent by lord Castlereagh to inform me, that I
aiust go back to bridewell. The vessel was at this tima
ifrllXIAM SAMPSON. 6;?
tfeady and only waiting for a wind. At the moment that
this officer entered, armed with a case of pistols and a
dagger stuck in his girdle, I was in the act of making up
my trunks to embark. My wife was lending her assist-
ance, and my children were playing on the floor. This
major Sirrf is a gentleman by no means celebrated for
delicacy or gentleness in the city from which he derives
his office. But I will do him the justice to say, that on
this occasion he seemed to have some feelings of compuftc
tion for the mission he was charged with. He consented
and even proposed to wait until I should write to the cas-
tle, and state that I was already preparing to go on board
the ship. It was necessary to send twice, the person to
whom my first letter was addressed being absent: and all
that time he remained standing in a window, as for some
reason or other he refused to sit down. An answer came
directed to him from lord Castlereagh, and he only asked
me to pledge my word that I would go on board that eve-
ning, and took his leave.
I accordingly went to live on board this vessel, but the
wind continued unfavorable, and the weather so tempestu-
ous, that several ships were driven ashore, even in the
harbor. During this time I had no other means of con-
versing with my wife, than by stealing up at night, and
returning before day light on board; and this not without
risque, as one night a man was assassinated by the mili-
tary on the road where I had to pass. Such was the pro-
ceeding of that government which was *<so unwilling t©
resort to painful steps!"
t For a better account of him, see Mr. Curran's speech on
the trial of Hevev; he is now hieh sheriff of the city of D' s*~
lin III
64 MSMOIBS 09
At length, on the 24th. October, as well as I can recol-
lect, the captain was ordered against his will to sea, and
on the 27th. we were stranded on the coast of North "Wales,
on the extreme point of Carnarvonshire, near the small
port of Pullhell y.
Having got so far, give me leave again to pause; that
you may have some time to repose, and I he the better
able to resume my story.
XETTEE IX.
.Indent Britons — Duke of Portland.
BY a curious whim of fortune, the soil on which I
was now to look for hospitality was the identical country
of those ancient Britons, who had been made the blind in-
struments of so many crimes against the Irish, and which
they finally expiated with their lives. They had been
taken from their mountains and their ploughs, and enflam-
ed by every artifice against their unfortunate felloxv-sub-
jects in Ireland, with whom they could possibly have no
quarrel. For it is worthy of note, that besides the faction
in our own country, the principal part of those employed
in making war upon the Irish, were the mountaineers of
Scotland and Wales, and also Hessians; who, not knowing
the English language nor the ancient language still spoken
by many of the Irish, were inaccessible to all remonstrance
and less liable to be softened by complaint, or enlightened
by expostulation, or in any way made sensible of the cm-
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 65
elties they were committing. Perhaps also their lives
were held in less estimation than those of the English, and
they were preferred in that service*
So gross were the arts used to inflame these poor people,
ihatoneof the stories circulated among them was, if I
have not been much deceived, "that the Irish were coming
to eat them with a horn of salt.1'9 This, I confess, ap-
pears an absurdity almost incredible. But the pr6ofs I
had to my own senses of the credulity of the people of this
district, rendered me less difficult on that head. I will
give you an instance of this. Of late years they hare
formed very numerous associations in nature of a religions
sect, of which the principal and characteristic act of de-
votion is jumping; and therefrom they are denominated
jumpers. To this end they have built a vast number of
chappels by voluntary subscription, where they preach by
self-inspiration. The preachers are of all sexes and all
ages and start forth spontaneously from among the con-
gregation; so that I havo seen a great number running
about at a time preaching and sobbing and shedding tears,
and wringing each others hands: whilst the lookers on
seemed to catch in a fainter degree the same inspiration.
As they preached in their vernacular tongue, I could not
judge of their sermons otherwise than by their effects. I
have seen many actually in convulsions.: and old men on
their knees making wry faces, and knawing the heads of
their sticks and biting, in a kind of extacy, like a cat
tickled on the crupper. - Tiie more young and vigorous
jump up in the air, with their hands up clutching at the in-
visible Lamb of the Lord. But particularly, I was told,
at certain solemnities and stated times of the year, they as-
semble in the towns and villages, and in the fields, and on
0(5 MEMOIRS or
the high roads. This is probably towards the festival of
Easter, and then the whole country is engaged in the act
of jumping; each as the caprice strikes, or sometimes alto-
gether like fry in the sea. I understand, since I have been
in France, that this sect is much more extended than I
then had any idea: and that it prevails equally in South as
in North Wales. It was from a little girl that was sent
from an hospitable farmer's house, to conduct me to the
road, that I first learned the meaning of their jumping. I
had gone into the cottage to ask my way and was without
further introduction, invited to accept of country fare; and
this little girl, who alone had learned English, served as
my interpreter, and afterwards as my guide. I was
charmed on this as on every other occasion, with the hos-
pitality of this people: for it is but justice to say, that they,
like my own countrymen, possess that noble virtue in a
high degree. I wished to make some little compliment to
the child, and as we walked along towards the great road
I asked her if she ever came to Pullhelly, and if she would
come and see me there? She answered that she came twice
a week to the preaching, and that she would call and en-
quire for me at Mr. Jones's. I asked her then if she was
a jumper? and she said she was. I finally ventured to ask
heir what she jumped for, for in my country we had not yet
learned that? And she replied with great simplicity, that
she jumped for the Lamb. Would to God that so many of
those poor people had been let to remain until this day
jumping for the Lamb, instead of being brought over full
of ignorant fury, of which they wei« hardly to be called
guilty, to burn the wretched cottages of the poor Irish, to
torture, violate and murder, and in the end to pay the for-
feit with their lives. Good God! will there never be a pe-
WILLIAM SAMPSON, C7
riod of civilization, when humanity will emerge from dark-
ness and barbarity? But it is time to quit this digression,
and continue my story.
Having with difficulty got to land, for which we were
much indebted to the courage and humanity of Mr. Robin-
son, a clergyman in sight of whose house we were first
stranded, and who came with some of his people in a row-
boat to our assistance, we went to an inn kept by an ancient,
sea captain called Jones. Here there arrived on the fol-
lowing morning the passengers of a packet-boat bound to.
Bristol, put in, damaged and dismasted by similar distress of
weather. Between the passengers of both vessels our society
was numerous, and enlivened by some pretty and amiable
persons of the fair sex. Our fare was good though no.
sumptuous. We had a clean fire-side, and that cordial
pleasure that arises from past toil. We had a harper to
play to us at dinner, and we danced to his music in the
evening. The next day we made our parties to wander on
the strand and climb upon the rocks,- and in this manner
we passed several days which to me seemed short. But as
the rest of his casual society went off in a few days, each
to pursue his own particular destination, I was left to con-
sider for myself. I had indeed perceived that calumny
and terror had been before-hand with me. Certain it it*
that my name seemed to have reached the shore before me,,
and I could see that I was eyed as an object of curiosity,
if not of horror. Many, I dare say, piqued themselves
upon discovering in my features the indications of my
bloody disposition; or in my structure, the signs of that
atrocious force, by which I had been able to destroy with
my own hand all the ancient British cavalry. And I'd are
say my name, so weB suited to such a terrific illusion, wa
68 MEMOIRS Ol
taken for something into the account. And all this was
sustained by the ribaldry copied from the Irish faction
prints; for I never could take up a news -paper without
meeting some paragraph touching myself, in which there
was only this one consistency, that of near a thousand
which I have read from first to last, I can safely say
there was not one that contained a syllable of truth. One
only I shall take the trouble of citing, as explanatory of
what is to follow. Its author, calculating upon what was
doubtless preconcerted, but not foreseeing the frequent put-
ting back of the Lovely Peggy nor the stranding of the
Lovely Mary, took upon him in the true spirit of the party
holdly to publish, that I had heen refused admission into
Portugal, and this at least three months before I went there!
In my present extraordinary position it was necessary
to come to some explanation. I therefore wrote to the
duke of Portland, secretary of state, and also to lord
Corn v. -all is. To the former I recapitulated all that had
passed from the time I had written to him from Carlisle
gaol, to request to be sent to trial. I told him of the con-
stant denial of that justice; of the torture of my servant,
and of the engagement I had so disinterestedly entered in-
to with the government; and the unfair manner in which
advantage had been taken of it; of the assertion that I had
confessed treason, whereas I had never been allowed to
speak: that in short I was ready if he chose, to go to Lon-
don and convince him by irrefragable proofs, that if there
was treason, winch I abhorred, it lay upon my accusers,
and not with me. Had this offer been accepted, I should
have had hopes, though late, of obtaining justice for my-
. self and perhaps of effecting some more general good. I
thinl as to lord CornwaJUis that I mentioned a wish to
WILXIAM SAMPSON. 6])
remain where I now was; for I had already more than one
good reason to forebode that I should not have fair play in
Portugal.
For more surety I addressed my letter to lord Cornwall
lis, to his private secretary, captain Taylor: and I had by
return of post the following answer:
Dublin Castle, Dec. 5, 1798.
Sir,
I am directed by lord Cornwallis to acquaint
you, that your letter of the 2d. instant has been transmit-
ted to the duke of Portland, and that a_compliance with
your request must rest entirely with the English govern-
ment.
I am, Sir,
Four most obedient humble servant,
H. Tayxok.
And from the duke of Portland I had the answer which
follows:
White-Baa, Dec. 13, 1798.
Sir,
It was not in my power to answer your letter of
the 28th November, before I had communicated with the
lord lieutenant of Ireland on the subject of the request it
contained. I have now to acquaint you that there is no
objection either to your remaining at Pullhelly, until the
vessel in which you arrived there shall be in a condition
to prosecute her voyage, or to repair to Falmouth in or«
der to proceed by the first packet to Lisbon. In case you
should prefer the latter, I enclose a passport which may
prevent your meeting with any difficulty on the road*
710 MEMOIRS 01
I must beg" of you to inform me, by return of post, wheth-
er you intend to remain at Pullhelly; and if you do, of the
probable period which it may be necessary for you to wait
before the vessel can sail.
Tarn, Sir,
Four most obedient humble servant,
Portland.
The passport enclosed with the above, you will find in,
an appendix, which it is my intention to subjoin; and in
which I shall insert such other documents illustrative of
this narrative, as I shall be able to obtain possession of be-
fore it is closed. (See Appendix, JS"o. VI. J
It was dated White-Hall. It was unlimited as to time.
It literally empowered me to go from White Hall to Fal-
mouth. The letter being silent as to my passing through
London, seemed to leave it at my option, and I had once
nearly formed that design. Meantime I had written to
lord Moira, in whose hands I had deposited many authen-
tic documents touching the barbarities committed on the
Irish; and I now desired to have them in order if any op-
portunity was allowed, to profit by the true light I could
throw upon those affairs, and boldly to reclaim justice for
myself and others at my own peril.
You must have heard of lord Moira's motion in the Irish
house of lords, founded upon these and numberless other
documents, the truth of which was incontrovertible. Lord
Moira certainly did state the facts of which he was pos-
sessed much less energetically than might be expected
from his eloquence and sensibility. It is possible that
aiming at conciliation, he feared the too strong truth; and
WILLIAM SAMPSON* f\
his motion had little other effect than to bring x'.pon him-
self a torrent of vulgar abuse. Such was the reward of
his moderation on the one hand, whilst on the other the
people smarting with the sense of injury and insult, tools
little part in a discourse which painted their sufferings so
short of what they felt them. Yet trusting to the good in-
tentions of the earl of Moira, and seeing the difficult card
he had to play; above all comparing him with those who
tvere against him, I could not but feel very great respect
for his efforts, and an infinite desire to contribute to their
success. Indeed if his motion had no other good effect, it
had at least that of setting in a striking point of view the
contrast between a man of high breeding and the low pet-
ulance of the faction that opposed him in the name of a
constitution which they had already betrayed and were
shortly to annihilate.
ADVERTISEMENT.
To the Reader.
WHEN these letters were written, I had with-
held from my friend the following correspondence with
lord Moira. This might have been an overstrained deli-
cacy at that time; but subsequent events and present cir-
cumstances require, that I should make it known for my
reputation's sake. And indeed circumvented and ensnared
as I am by the craft of my enemies, I have no other mean?
7xJ MEMOIBS oy
of communicating my sentiments than this public one, ever:
t ) many of those materially interested to know them.
It was on the 19th. of February, 1798, that lord Moira
took his seat in the Irish parliament, and made his cele-
brated motion for conciliatory measures, I had before that
been admitted into the society of the countess dowager of
Moira and Huntingdon, a lady distinguished by advan-
tages greater than her high birth, those of a cultivated
and solid mind, stored with the richest treasures of erudi-
tion. I was also very well received by her daughters,
lady Granard and lady Charlotte Rawdon, persons of
whose acquaintance the proudest man might be ambitious.
My brother had been long acquainted with lord Moira,
and had a great respect and attachment for him. Among
the persecuted Catholics of Armagh, were many tenants of
his lordship, who had made choice of me for their advocate.
And so violent was the government partij against him, that
the peep of day boys had committed outrages in his town of
Ballynahinch, and one of the ladies pointed out to me a
house of a principal inhabitant, perforated with musket
shot which they had fired into the windows in the night.
Besides this it was said and believed, that general Lake
had declared that some town must be burned in the north,
and the best to begin with was lord Moira's. And so
great were his lordship's apprehensions that he transmit-
ted to England his family library, one of the most precious
to be found in tiie possession of any individual. On lord
Moira's arrival also, I had instituted a society, of which
were men undoubtedly the most distinguished in Ireland;
such as Grattan, the Ponsonbys, Curran, Flecker, the
brave old Montgomery, with some others of the patriotic
members of parliament, and uncomvpted lawyers, am*.
WIXLIAM SAMTSOIf. 75
certain of the influential Catholics and merchants, whose
credit and correspondence was necessary to the object in
view, which was to collect true and authenticated facts to
be opposed as a bulwark to falsehood and national calumny,
and possibly by their great enormity to appal those imme-
diately responsible; or if there was any wisdom or justice
beyond them to force conviction there. By this society I
was named historiographer, and my brother corresponding
secretary. We had proceeded for some time in despite of
the reigning terror with effect: and never were more tragi-
cal stories wrested from oblivion.
At this time it is impossible to say to what particular
degree each man in the community was tainted with rebel-
lion. Every good man was in some degree rebellious:
some more, some less; each according to the warmth of
his heart, the firmness of his mind, his compassion, his
honesty, perhaps his ambition or his interest. But he who
felt no tendency to rebel against such crimes had, I think.
but little cause to glorify himself. It is only for him who
searches all hearts, to know the pangs which a conscien-
tious man in such a state of things must feel, particularly
one whose connections, intimacies, youthful habits, and ties
of blood, Jie on the one side; whilst the voice of reason and
humanity and the instinctive horror of oppression and
cruelty calls him to the other. How many ties must then
be rent asunder! The love of country, the love of his fel-
low-creature, the love and fear of his Gou, prompt him to
rebel against crimes forbidden by the laws of God and man.
The tender affections of the heart, the scruples which a
humane mind must ever have to surmount before it can en-
gage in the dreadful conflict of a civil war.
Such were the considerations which often occupied my
"4 MEMOIRS 01
private thoughts. 1 was convinced of the monstrous abuses
committed against the Irish people, of the misery and de-
gradation in which they were held by inhuman policy and
a barbarous code, of the insolence of their plunderers, and
the corruption and cruelty of their masters. The strong
remonstrances in which not only the United Irishmen, but all
the unhired and many even of the hired, had made at various
times: for there is scarcely a name of any uncorrupted in-
dividual of the slightest degree of importance, that is not
somewhere to be found annexed to resolution, petition or
remonstrance, at one time or other, complaining of these
evils. I therefore however convinced of the truths propa-
gated by (lie United Irishmen, was long in acting upon
that conviction. And although for some time previous to
this period I had determined and declared, in case of civil
>\ af that I should not be against the people, unless the mea-
sures of the government should become such as that with-
out sacrificing my conscience I could support it: still I
: lied if possible to find some middle course by which th$
most good could be effected and the most evil prevented.
I had always seen that the hard hearted tax-masters of my
country had never relented but through fear. I therefore,
whenever I wrote or spoke of public matters, endeavored
to state their danger with the firm tone of true conviction;
whilst on the other hand I labored to soften the too just
"indignation of the popular party, and often lost the popu-
larity which courageous and upright dealing had acquired
to me, by hankering after that conciliation which bolder
politicians affirmed to be impossible, and reform which
they foresaw never would be conceded; and perhaps by too
much attachment to individuals Who have not returned
';it attachment as generously as they ought. Some, to
WILLIAM SAMPSON. Y5
Use Mr. Tone's words, had long meditated upon the sub-
ject and were convinced that separation was the only rem-
edy. I was very late in taking any part in politics)
and had yielded unwillingly and against my interest and
my predilections to too much conviction. I persevered
with all my might to bring about a co-operation between
the popular leaders and the parliamentary opposition, in
order that unanimity of talents and influence might if pos-
sible prevail, and succeeded so far as to persuade the
whole to make one final effort for reform through the par-
liament. I had drawn several of those petitions which
were presented to the king with the same intention from
towns and counties, in defiance of the insurrection act, par-
ticularly that of Downe, ( See Appendix JVo. VII. J which
wras passed without any alteration by the freeholders of
that county. When I acted as chairman at the Belfast
town meeting (See Appendix No. VIII. ) I did not know
that the French had been invited, nor for a long time af-
terwards: but as that important event seemed a fair warn-
ing to the English, who felt that they owed their danger to
the weakness and vice of their government in Ireland and
their safety to the elements alone, I still hoped that some-
thing might be done through their fears> though nothing
could be effected through their justice. I know that in
this I passed for a weak and unexperienced politician in
the eyes of many: yet had any conciliation or any thing
like redress of griefs been held out by government (for the
parliament was but an instrument) it might have been pos-
sible to have obtained for Ireland solid advantages, and con-
sequent advantage and security to England. I have high
authority now to say that I was not mistaken, and that the
sentiments expressed in contradiction of this opinion were
to >m;moius o*
more from the certainty that their efforts would be to ever}
good purpose unavailing, and would produce nothing but a
division in the public mind.
Did I aspire to a high rank as a politician I should
not mention all these scruples which may rather class
me amongst the lesser geniuses: but I write for truth and
not for vanity. I write to let my Mends perceive that I
heVec have deceived them, and to let my oppressors feel
the weight of my iniquity.
Lord Moira lived at his mother's residence in Dublin.
I was presented to himj and if I had received attentions
from the ladies, I experienced still more flattering ones
from him. He once called me into his cabinet, and after
apologizing by anticipation, with all that suavity and no-
bleness of manner which he possesses, and after I had as-
sured him that I knew him incapable of speaking any thing
(hat ought to offend, he proposed to me to go over and
live with him in England; that he saw a storm gathering
round me; that he knew how I wras threatened; that what-
ever loss it might be, he would endeavor to counterbalance
it, and that to whatever amount I chose, he would be my
banker, and make my fortune his particular care. I did
not immediately recover from the emotion this proceeding
excited in me; but when I did, I answered that had this of-
fer been made a short time before I might perhaps have
accepted of it; that I felt the value of it as much as if I
did; that however agreeable such a retreat under the
auspices of his lordship might be, I could not consent to it
at present, as several hundreds of my oppressed country-
men looked to me for their vindication. And having in
such a crisis undertaken the defence of the wretched, I
found it as impossible to abandon my duty to them as it
WlillAM SAMPSON-. ft
would be for his lordship to quit the field of battle in the
moment of action.
About this time my brother persuaded the society to let
lord Moira have the use of some of the well authenticated
documents we had collected; and he induced me to join
him heartily and actively in seconding- his views; and be-
fore I quit this long digression I must mention one most ex-
traordinary occurrence which his lordship, notwithstanding
the time and the changes that have intervened, cannot
have forgotten.
A man from England who passed by various names in
his correspondence with the castle, Bird, Smith, Johnson*
&c. and who had been one of the hired denouncers in the
employment of government, smote as he alledged by re-
morse and compunction, refused to follow up his work,
and escaping to a place of safety, published his reasons;
and in one piece gravely reproved the immorality of the
government, adding a prophetic warning that such crimes
could not long prosper. (See Jppendix No. IX. J He
was a man of very unusual talent, and I believe never so
desperately engaged in deeds of blood as the rest of the
body known by the name of the battalion of testimony.
It was a part of the tactics of the faction, before the
laws were totally abolished, to deny the most positive
facts. When that was impossible they said government
did not give such orders, and that the courts of justice
were open. The confessions of a man of this kind were
all-important to the substantiation of truth; and having had
some intimation that Mr. Bird wished to reveal every
thing in discharge of his conscience I went, accompanied
by Mr. Grattan and my brother, from lord Moira's at a
pretty late hour, and staid until this extraordinary man
?b MEMOIRS Or
writfeea upon two and thirty pages of large paper
which lie did without stopping, not only his own doings
but those of- others of the battalion of testimony associated
with him. Of these were Mr. Newell, a painter, who
; to go about in a robe with a mask and a wand to
point out his victims, who were immediately seized and
dragged to the dungeon or to execution. Mr. Newell also
shortly after published his atrocities in the way of a story.
Another was Mr. Dutton, a servant, who had been turned
away for stealing plate from his mistress, an Englishman
also. He sometimes headed the ancient Britons in their
most murderous excurtions, and I believe had a commis-
sion as an officer among them and other very signal marks
of favor, and had then full power of life and death given
him oyer the Irish. Another was a Mr. Murdoch, son of
a hcartu-Tiioneij collector. The story Mr, Bird related of
e men was a tissue of unexampled profligacy, villany
and obscenity. Lord Moira must still, I should suppose,
be in possession of it. I took care that every page of it
should be signed by Bird and countersigned by Mr. Grat-
lan, who was a privy counsellor.
I shall now close this digression, too long perhaps, but
necessary to the perfect understanding of the following lei-
■
Duninglon, Lee. 26, 1798.
■v I .
Your letter of the 21st. uddressed to me in
London,, has only this afternoon reached me here. I must
undoubtedly fee! it claimed from me by every considera-
tion of justice, that you should have the perusal of any doc-
ument in my possession, which you may think necessar?'
WHJJAM SAMPSON. ?9
Towards the statement you meditate to the duke of Port-
land. Those copies are in the hands of Mr. Sheridan in
town. I will immediately write to request that he will
give you the inspection of those documents whensoever you
shall apply to him. It is impossible for me to form with
sufficient accuracy the opinion which you ask of me, whetk-
er it would not be expedient for you under your pjeseni
circumstances to repeat the solicitation for an interview
with the duke of Portland. That must depend upon your
power of adducing facts capable of rebutting the charges
which have been advanced against you, or your means of
giving to his grace an insight into circumstances whence
he may drawr advantage to the public. I must be incom-
petent to judge of those particulars.
You desire that I will not pass condemnation upon you
unheard: and your further expressions on that point con
vince me that it is not merely a general appeal to candor,
but an observation upon something which I have said res
pectingyou. I should not only have deemed it repugqant
to every principle of equity and honor to have pronounced
you guilty without having heard your defence, but I had
seen too many instances of the frenzy or the profligacy of
party in Ireland, to have credited uninvestigated imputa-
tions, however confidently urged. The expression in my
letter to your brother, to which I am sure you allude, jpugi
show you by what supposition I was misled: for when I
said that I was satisfied lie had not had any suspicion of the
guilt winch you had acknowledged, it is clear that I imag-
ined you had confessed your participati::n in theconspir;-
iy. Your entering into the engagement to cxpairiai<2
yourself in common with Messrs. O'Connor, Emmet, &c?
made every body in this country (and me among th
80 MEMOIRS .»r
Eake it for grouted that yon had confessed, as they did,
the being implicated in a correspondence with the French,
and in a plot to subvert the constitution of yonr country;
crimes of the most heinous nature. It was not until very
latch that I was assured you had not made any such avow-
al, and that you would not sign the agreement for quitting
[reland until government had declared there was not any
charge against you beyond that on the ground of libel as
manager of the Press. My surprize on the occasion was
not greater than my pain at having used to your brother
so unjustified an expression. The error which I have ex-
plained will, I am certain, sufficiently apologize for me
therefore I will only add that I sincerely lament the wound
which I see you have felt from that incorrect supposition of
nine.
/ hare the honor to be, Sir,
Four most obedient humble servant,
MoiRA.
William Sampson, Esq.
REPLY TO THE ABOVE.
My Lord,
I have received the honor of your iord-
ship's letter, dated Donington, December 26. It appears
by a mark on the cover to have been missent, and has the
Brimingham post mark. I received by the same post, a
letter from Mr. Wickham, written by the duke of Port-
land's desire, informing me that it was expected I should
not use his passport to go any but the most direct road
from one place to the other, and particularly not to attempt
io go through London. I have thought proper as I do not
WILLIAM SAMPSON1. 81
mean to make any public appeal, at least until a more hap-
py occasion, or if that should not present itself until my
death, or some other casualty should give publicity to a
statement I have left behind, to transmit you a copy of my
answer.
Your candor, to whicb I am sure no man can appeal in
vain, has acknowledged that you owed me some explana-
tion. And I am abundantly gratified with that which yo-.i
have given. I have had no correspondence with any pub-
lic character in this kingdom but your lordship, except the
secretary of state. For troubling you I have both a public
and a private motive: ignorance, perhaps, of the sphere in
which you act, dictates the first. For, finding that you
had taken upon yourself a distinguished post in the at ive
service of the king, I conceived that my writing to your
lordship could not be taken as any meddling with opposi-
tion to government. But that if on the contrary any
thing appeared just or meritorious in the view I proposed
of opening the eyes of the English ministers as to the pro-
ceedings in Ireland, it might have claimed your support.
My second motive was, to clear myself from an imputation
which I abhor, that of incincerity and ingratitude. Had
I, when your lordship was in Ireland and expressed your-
self so kindly towards me, been guilty of deceiving you, I
should have deserved the worst epitiiet my enemies have
bestowed upon me. As far as your necessary reserve and
the slightness of my acquaintance would permit, I did im-
part exactly what I knew and what I felt. Facts howev-
er were what you chiefly desired; and let me ask whether
any of those I did procure for your lordship have ever been
contradicted? Certain resolutions, touching your lord-
ship's motion in the Irish house of lords, passed in a com-.
MEMOIRS OE
mittee of United Irishmen, which were read at some of the
stute trials. Your lordship may remember the opinion I
gave of the sentiments of that great majority of the Irish
people. But further than conjecture I was as ignorant as
your lordship, having no place in its organization in any
of its branches, either civil or military. Had I been in-
strumental in passing such resolutions, I must have been
a hypocrite to have visited your lordship upon the footing
that I did: and after having assisted you in the collection
of the facts which made the ground of your motion, I was
not certainly capable of throwing such a bar in the way of
its success.
Your lordship has mentioned the names of Messrs. Em-
me(, O'Connor, &c. These gentlemen are fitter to justify
themselves than I am: one of them I have known most in-
timately. No man has ever spoken of his private charac-
ter but with admiration. His public opinion I ever knew
to be benevolent in the extreme. If he has erred it has
not been in his heart. And he who acts purely from his
best judgment w~alks by the light which God has given
him. Your lordship must feel however as well as I do,
that there is something strongly calling for alteration when
treason gains the sanction of men's names, whose every
step from infancy upwards has been traced by virtue, ge-
nerosity and gentleness: and I think he would be the
greatest benefactor of any government who would invent
some better way of reform than that of making characters,
formed to adorn their country and their species, the vic-
tims of dungeons and of gibbets. In saying this I do not
wish to take upon me the offences of others: I have given,
it seems, sufficient offence myself. But no justification of
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 83
mine shall ever be at the expense of those who have paid so
dearly for their own.
Your lordship is again led into error in supposing
that I was or was even imputed to be the manager of the
"Press." That paper was set up when I was in the
country; and was continued sometime before I ever saw it.
About that time I was exposed by my residence in the
country, to hear the grievances and injuries of the oppress-
ed. Your lordship, from the comparatively small speci-
men you have seen, may judge of what they were; and
whether he was more a traitor who could perpetrate, abet,
or even calmly look on such crimes, or he who in defi
ance of his private interest and at the risque of his per-
sonal safety, had courage to express his honest indignation
and at any hazard to vindicate the laws of God and man
against them. The use I made of the Press was to pub-
lish those facts of which you were desirous also to be the
publisher; the suppression and consequent impunity of
which, you seemed to foresee as well as I did, would lead to
rebellion. Many writings however were imputed to me
which were disagreeable to me, and which I would have
gladly repressed. I had for the rest much less concern with
the Press than you conceive, and as proprietor or manager
none at all. Many things indeed I did write for it, the
whole of which I should have little hesitation to avow.
I have in vain sought for confrontation with my ac-
cusers. I have in vain sought to fix them to any one
charge, and therefore it is in vain for me to attempt any jus-
uncation of a character so truly unimpeached. My conduct
at a town meeting of Belfast, respecting the arming of the
yeomen, was a thing much dwelt upon. Here is a short
statement of it. The magistrates had called a meeting
84 MEMOIRS OF
which, as it concerned every body, Mas attended by several
thousand people. I knew the dispositions of those people..
But I solemnly avow that I did not even suspect that there
had been at that time any alliance formed with the French.
It was a natural supposition that the discontents and anger
of the public would, if not softened, lead to it, and upon
that view I acted. I was put upon a committee, of which
were the sovereign of the town and five other magistrates.
The meeting was adjourned, and at the adjourned assem-
bly, the sovereign for reasons best known to himself re-
fused to take tlic chair. Resolutions bad been handed to
me by some of the firmest supporters of the government,
a literal copy of what had been drawn up by lord Oneill,
but in a stile so moderated that it was scarcely hoped that
they could have passed at the county meeting for which
(hey were intended. I prevailed so far however in this
committee as to have them passed. The meeting was like
to become clamorous for want of order: and the soldiers
were drawn up under arms, and prepared to fire upon the
people. It seemed as if a massacre had been planned, for
every usual place of public meeting was shut. I out of
humanity did then- expose myself in the open street, in a
situation little according with my disposition, and read
the resolutions, which after my being voted into the chair,
were approved of, and the people dispersed in the most or-
derly manner; and after offering to arm as the ancient vo-
lunteers had done* declared they would be satisfied with
the assurance of a reform for the present: and that they
would consider the government by king, lords and com-
mons, when wisely administered, as sufficient for their
happiness. "What then was my surprise to read a few
days afterwards in a newspaper an expression of the,
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 83
chancellor, that the great commercial town of Belfast 'had
come to resolutions so treasonable, that he wondered at
the mildness of the government that would let the authors
of them live! This, however exasperating, produced no
retaliation on my part, Thus, if I have been at any time
sharper against those I conceived to be acting wrong than
a perfectly prudent man might be, it will be generally
found that I have been more sinned against than sinning.
Subsequent events have not done much discredit to my
principles or my foresight. Had those who thought and
felt as I did been a little more attended to and less abused
or insulted, it might have been better. fSee the Resolu-
tions, Appendix JVo. X.J
With respect to parliamentary reform and Catholic
emancipation, these notions had been riveted in the public
mind by those who are now the king's ministers, long be-
fore I took any part in politics. They may be called the
leaders of the people in this offence; I cannot; but I thought
it a sufficient reason for reclaiming those measures that
they were just in themselves: and as I then thought and
do still think, would have contented the country. And I
thought that every illegal and cruel attack upon those who
committed no crime but that of lawfully pursuing such law-
ful measures, ought to be resisted.
Did I not determine to put my justification upon none
but the broadest and most candid footing, I might excuse
myself without offending the administration, by saying
ijiat they had information which I had not, and probable
cause to infer participation on my part when there was
»none. But it is not my way to bow under persecution; I
Shall put it upon no such ground. I was on the contrary
always of opinion, that no political exigency or necessity
MEMOI&S of
could ever justify violation or torture, many proofs of
h, long before any political offence is even imputed to
. are in your lordship's possession; many hundreds
more in mine.
I shall conclude, by begging of your lordship, as you
have been once innocently my accuser, to be now my dc-
<>v. not that I expect or desire of you to add the autho-
rity of youiMiame to any thing here stated. I should ra-
ther that my c;ice stood upon its own intrinsic truth than
authority of the greatest name. I only wish that if
this letter be satisfactory to your lordship, you may com-
municate it to such as your former misapprehension may
have confirmed in an unfavorable opinion of me, particu-
larly the ladies of your lordship's family, whose good
opinion I should be sorry to lose. I shall keep a copy of
this, as it contains the outlines and principal part of my
»ry: and lest by any accident this should not reach
your lordship, I shall deposit the copy with a gentleman
)in whom you may one day receive it and some other
curious intelligence.
I should add, that Mr. Emmet in one part of his exami-
nation (and he was a director of the union) did say, that
had reasonable hope of a reform at any time presented it- I
self, the connexion with the French would have been broken
off. This from a man of known veracity upon his oath,
proved very consoling to me for the efforts I had made, and
the sufferings I had undergone.
I hare the honor to be, my lord.
Ycnir lordship's
Most obedient humble servant,
"William Sampson,
WIXMAM SAMPSON. >',7
Now before I suffer the press to resume the series of the
letter^ written during my stay in France; and as I ha
had occasion to bring Mr. Emmet's name before the pub-
lic, there is one fact respecting him which I fee! it as a
duty to state.
He with the other leaders of the United Irishmen has
been charged with encouraging the crime of assassination,
and reference has been made to an anonymous publication
called the "Union Star," which was circulated clandes-
tinely from time to time, and thrown into the areas or
pushed under the doors in the night. One or two numbers
of it came to my hands. The reasoning they contained
upon the subject of retaliation, was uncommonly nervous
and daring. They imputed not to virtue, but to cowar-
dice or weakness, that principle which they maintained
had no other operation than to arrest the arm of defence
and leave the helpless victim at the mercy of the infuriate
assailant! They stated, that those who had proclaimed
their nation out of the king's peace and suspended the laws,
ought not to hope for the protection of laws. They had
chosen, they said, to resort to the state of nature, if ever
such existed, where there were no laws, and it was at their
own peril. Shall they whose unmeasured extortions de-
prive, the hungry of food and the naked of covering, whose
magnificence is only equalled by the wretchedness of ttiose
who pay for it? Shall they, said the author, who support
such a system of plunder by a system of universal pros-
cription, be held as immortal gods? Shall their persons
be inviolate, and the groans of the tortured administer to
their repose? Who is he, they said, who can recall the
dead to life, and restore to the widow her lost husband,
and to the orphan his parent? Where have they learned
8S MEMOIRS OF
to sanctify robbery and to hallow murder? Where ha\ e
they Learned that ten thousand innocent poor should die,
that one guilty rich should live?
Such were the outlines of this publication, of which
I believe the author never was discovered. Some thought
it was a stratagem of the government, in order to throw
odium upon the opposite cause. To me the arguments
seemed too strong and too terribly applicable to wan-ant
that supposition. I had upon the subject of these papers
several conversations with Mr. Emmet. He was very
zealous in his efforts to restrain them, and I believe suc-
cessful. And what is more, there was found amongst his
papers at his arrestation one drawn up by him and me,
and intended to have been subscribed by all whose names
could be supposed most influencial amongst the people,
which the government with its usual candor took care en-
tirely to suppress. The danger we had to avoid was, that
of being marked by the government as chiefs: for Ireland
has afforded instances enough of men being put to death
upon that proof of guilt, that they had been able to save
their persecutors lives. So strange and intricate are the
ways of guilt, when to save or to destroy are equally crim-
inal and fatal. Some of these instances are to be found in
Mr. Plowden's history of Ireland, a work which, allowing
for the circumstances of the times, the prejudices of which
no man can suddenly divest himself; considering that he
was an Englishman, writing under the sanction of the Brit-
ish government; considering the terror and delusion which
has not yet subsided, does him extreme honor.
Others of these facts are to be found in Mr. Hay's ac-
count of the proceedings in Wexford, and others in tho
WILLIAM SAMPSON". &9
history of the rebellion, by the Rev. Mr, Gordon. f$&
Appendix No. XL J
CONTINUATION OF THE LETTER
LETTER X.
Mr. Wickham — Colonel Edwards — Oporto.
I do not know to what it was owing, uidess to the
arime of having corresponded with lord Moira, that I re=
ceived the following sharp letter from Mr. Wickham:
TO W. SAMPSON, ESQ..
Sir,
I am directed by the duke of Portland to in-
form you, that if you think proper to make use of the pass-
port which has been granted, to enable you to proceed
fromPullhelly to Falmouth, it is expected that you should
take the nearest road from one place to the other; and es-
pecially that you should not attempt to go through London.
J have the honor to be, sir,
Your most obedient humble servant, 7
Wm. "Wickham.
About this time I found also that my persecutors were
not yet asleep in Ireland; for I saw by a newspaper, that
lord Clare and some other judges had published an ordei^
M
00 MfcMOIUS 0£
Ehal my name, together with those of Mr. 0' Conner and
Mr. Emmet, wore struck out of the list of barristers. I
paid little attention to the fact. It is not at present worth
disputing: but, I believe it amounts to nearly the same
thing as if I had ordered their names to be struck out of
the list of judges. The only object it could have was to
take advantage of the perversencss of the moment, and the
general terror that prevailed, perhaps to surprise some of
the judges, who might not know, as I am sure they did
not, the iniquities committed against me; and, as far as
possible, to put it out of the power of the government itself
to make me atonement, should justice ever return, I need
not say what was my feeling; for there is only one that
such proceeding can excite.
However, in spite of calumny, in spite of prejudice, I
lived from the 27th of November, until about the 20th of
January, amongst the ancient Britons, in perfect good will
and harmony with all of them. Bitter prejudices when
overcome, often turn to friendships: and it might have
been so with them. I found these people hospitable and
good; and I imputed the mischief they had done in my
country to the dupery practised upon them; of which they
had been themselves the victims. I therefore abstained
from all cause of offence towards them, and lamented deep-
ly the vicious policy of rulers, who, instead of seeking the
common happiness, sow dissentions purposely to weaken
the common force, in order to become the common tyrants.
I was once, when on a shooting party, introduced into
the house of a Mrs. Jones, who received me with the most
kind and amiable hospitality. She engaged me to dine,
and ordered a pair of her son's boots to be given me to
change. The boots indicated an owner of no diminutive
1 WILLIAM SAMPSON". 9-1
'Stature* and I asked if I should have the pleasure of seeing
the gentleman they belonged to? I was told, that he was
absent for the moment, and that he was a captain in the
ancient Britons. See, my friend, to what new dangers I
was exposed: what if this lusty ancient Briton had come
home and caught me in his hoots! !
Meanwhile, this persecution had extended so far, that
some sailors, coming over to navigate the ship in place of
others who had deserted her, were stopped on their way;
and this merely because they were coming to take away
the rebel of whom so much had been published, And a
gentleman came once out of breath from Caernarvon to as-
sure himself, that I was at Pullhelly. for some travellers
had been actually stopped upon suspicion that I was one of
them, making my way through the country.
That, however, which put me most at my ease in this
crisis, was the protection I received from lieutenant-colonel
Edwards, of the Carnarvon militia, who was then at ins
country-seat, called Nanhorn, upon leave of absence. He.
upon the appearance in his country of so arch a rebel, had
written at the same time with me, to the duke of Portland,
to know what he should do, for he was the principal magis
trate resident in the country. He received for answer, to
observe, but not to molest me: he, thereupon, invited me
frequently to his house, where I was received by him and
his sister, Miss Edwards, an accomplished young lady, po-
litely and hospitably, and spent many days at their house;
and this intercourse was uninterrupted until their departure
for Portsmouth, a few days before my sailing: wrhen, being
confined by sickness, they botli did me the honor of a fare-
well visit, and the colonel charged himself with a letter to.
mv sister at Portsmouth. I mention this circumstance
92 MEMOIRS or
particularly, as compared with what follows; it illustrates
the diabolical spirit of my persecution: for, at the time I
was buried in the dungeons of the inquisition, from whence
probably it was hoped I never should emerge, redress or
protection was refused me, because of my improper conduct
in Wales. And such was the only account, it is evident,
which ever would have been given of me, had my existence
ended there.
At length, on the 12th of February, rising from a sick
bed, I embarked for Oporto, where I arrived after a pdS^
saste of three weeks,
X.ETTER XI.
Taken prisoner— -Released — Liberality — Mr. Nash—Mbt
Jlorand.
AT Oporto, as might be supposed from'what had
gone before, my reception was prepared for me. After be-
ing kept several days on board the ship, a party of men?
armed with swords, came to take me before the Corrigidor.
I insisted on calling on my way upon the English consul,
Mr. Whitehead. This gentleman, as was his duty, exam-
ined my passports, and certified them to be genuine. And,
as it is well known*, that not only on account of the treaties
that subsist between the two countries, but of the fear in
which this nation stands of England, no British subject
ever can be arrested without the privity of the authorities
Who are there for his protection: that is, without a warrant
WILLIAM SAMPS03C. 93
from the Judge Conservador. So the interference of Mr.
Whitehead for this time protected me. It is true, I was
often told afterwards by the Portuguese, that this gentle-
man had injured, instead of serving me. I rather think,
however, that had others, whose duty it was still more to
protect' me, done their part as fairly, I should not have
suffered what I did. I was, upon quitting Mr. Whitehead,
taken to the Corrigidor's, where, after being detained
some time in the vestibule of his palace, I was dismissed.
The next difficulty was to find a lodging; for in this coun-
try the conveniences of social life arc so little known, that
in general to have a lodging you must buy or hire a house
and furnish it. There was indeed one hotel for the accom-
modation of strangers, called the Factory-House. But it
was given me to understand, that it would not be proper
for me to go there, on account of my principles. In short,
all the little dirty arts of the lowest malice had been put in
practice, to strew my way with thorns. In this exigence,
Mr. Miler, the gentleman to whom the ship that brought
me was consigned, made me an invitation to live with him,
which I accepted.
Amongst the persons of great respectability to whom I
had brought letters was Mr. Thomas Nash, an English
merchant. Nothing could exceed the delicacy and at the
same time the cordiality witli which he came forward with
offers of friendship and good counsel. It was by his ad-
vice that I determined to remain in Oporto, rather than go
to Lisbon or elsewhere. He proposed going early in the
spring to. his country house at St. Juan de Foz, and invited
me to consider myself as one of his family. I thereupon
wrote to my wife to come with her children and enjoy the
tranquility so dearly purchased. Mr. Nash charged him-
04 MEMOIRS 0*
self with folding us a habitation near his own. The invi*
tation was seducing, ami rendered more so by the good-
ness of his very amiable lady. Indeed I have seen few
happier pictures of domestic life than their fire side. . Tho
social bonds become, it would seem, more sacred in a for-
eign soil: and the ties of kindred and of tenderness draw
more close as the objects of dissipation are more few.
This respectable man found his pleasures in his honorable
industry, and plenty in a prosperous commerce: living in
as much elegance as gives grace to hospitality, and as
much luxury as is compatible with virtue: and prolonging
these blessings through a future generation, in the con-
templation of a lovely offspring.
My course of life was in the mean time as innocent as
could well be. My chief pleasure was sailing upon the
river in a little boat; and my companion, an unfortunate
French abbe, like me banished from his country, and like
me desirous of fatiguing his body for the repose of his
mind, and losing his cares amidst the amusing and cap-
tivating scenery that adorned the banks of this tine river.
This gentleman had received a good education, and was
not at a loss for abundant topics of conversation, without
touching the contentious ones of politics and religion.
The abbe was besides acquainted with the management
of the boat, young and robust, and as such essential for the
.service: and upon the whole, though we had come there by
such different roads, it was wonderful how well we agreed
and understood each other; for he neither sought to make
a prosclite of me nor I of him. We lived in the time spirit
of christian toleration. My man, John Russel, also vol-
unteered, more from love of me than of the element, and
wetnuee formed an epitome of my country, where the law
XyiZLIXtt SAMPSON. 95
and the gospel predominate, and the rest of the community
suffer. The abbe Morand is since, by the wiser policy of
the present government of France, recalled into his coun-
try. His opinions were his only crimes: and let opinions
be good or bad, it is not persecution that will change them.
For a proof of this we need not go beyond the history of
my miserable country, and the pitiful and hateful policy by
which it has ever been insulted.
So rigorous an adherence to an agreement so disenter-
estedly formed, and so shamefully perverted, a life so harm-
less and obscure, might have sheltered me from further
violence. The great work of war and extermination
might have gone on; the same hundreds of thousands
might have been "killed off; the same hundreds of millions
been added to the debt of England; all the crowned heads
of Europe might have sat upon their thrones; and the king
of Great-Britain, as whose enemy, his and my enemies and
the enemies of human kind were willing to persecute me,
might have moved from one of Ms palaces to another,
He might have gone from Kew to St. James's, whilst I
went in my cock-boat from Oporto to St. Johns, without
interruption on my side, or any ground of displeasure on
his, had it not been determined by my enemies that my per-
secution was not to end here.
te
MEMOIRS 01
LETTER XII,
.izaln imprisoned — l'alace — Prison — Corrtgidor — King—*
Queen — Prince — Variety.
ON the 22d of March, my schemes of pleasure were
cut short by a visit from the Vice-Corrigidor, with a party
of armed men, who seized me and my servant, and made a
vigorous search for papers, shaking out every article of my
linen, in hopes of finding some concealed writing. The in-
terpreter told me, without reserve, that I was arrested by
order of the English minister, for something I was sup-
posed to be writing. All the papers I had were in my
travelling secretary, lying open before me. I numbered
them and gave them up, and was conducted to the Corrigi-
dor's house, which was now to be my prison.
Tliis mansion exhibited no bad picture of a despotic
country. One half was a prison, the other a palace, and
the entrance in the centre was in common, and manv of the
household services were performed by convict slaves,
whose chains clinked as they went. For me, however, a
handsome audience hall (or, if I may profane the word, a
court of justice) was fitted up, and bolts newly put upon the
doors. My servant, who certainly was not writing any
thing against the government, was nevertheless thrown
amidst the malefactors ^i irons below; but afterwards, at
my entreaty, allowed to come into the room with me: and
from first to last I was in this palace treated with a degree
of respect, magnificence, and gallantry, liker the old times
of chivalry, or of faries, than what I had been used to in
bridewell, under Mr. M'Dougall and Mr. Trevor j or even
WELlIAM SAMI'SOST. Of
in the hands of Mr. Wilson at Carlisle. Even now the re-
collection of it fills me with admiration. I had a guard
during the day, hut not an armed one. This circumstance
was rather favorable, as it gave me a means of conversing
and learning the language; and my guard of the forenoon
being relieved by one of the afternoon, and every day a new
change, I had a variety of company. Besides the Maitre
d'Hotel, who was charged to do the honors of the house to-
wards me, I had seven or eight servants to wait at break-
fast and dinner, and was served with every thing that was
best from the table of the Corrigidor. Whether I owed
this to the munificence of the Fidalgo, or to the interference
of my friends, or to the interposition of the British Consul,
I cannot say; but it was a style of imprisonment highly flat-
tering: yet for which, having an incurable love of liberty
rather than of compliments, I fear I have not been suffi-
ciently grateftd.
My guards were clerks of the police and the customs.
But part of their duty was to wait in the anti-chamber of
the Fidalgo. Although they conversed freely upon com-
mon subjects, they were most impenetrably secret upon
whatever it concerned me to know. At first it was told
me, without hesitation, that I was arrested by orders from
England; they said from the king of England. But the
manner in which I reproved this assertion, prevented the
repetition of it. Though I had received no benefits, I told
them, from the king of England, nor no favors from his
ministers, for which I should feel myself called upon to de-
fend them; nevertheless, such a charge as this was too
gross to be endured; that it was but a few weeks since I
came into Portugal, sanctioned by their passports; and by
an agreement to which the king himself, and the parlia*
98 MEMOIRS OF
mcnt, and the ministers, were all pledged. And I repeated
to them the words of lord Clare — "That the government
which conld violate an engagement so solemnly entered in-'
to, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand." And 1 told
them, that they would see, when the British ambassador at
Lisbon received the letters of my friends, informing him
of tlfis proceeding, how nobly he would vindicate the dig-
nity of the king his master, and the honor of his nation.
This harrangue could have no merit but the spirit with
which it was pronounced. I was at that time sitting up in
my bed, and I could observe that the by-standers, who had
gathered round me, were at least in some astonishment:
. for it was almost the first time I had ventured to make a
discourse in Portuguese: some effect it certainly produced,
for next day I was told that it was the queen of Portugal
who did not like me, which was still more afflicting to me:
for I am sure I could not live if the fair sex were to hold
me in displeasure; much more if it were queens.
It is true the son of this illustrious personage, the prince
of Brazil, has since, on taking the reins of the government,
been forced to declare,. that he had from tenderness to his
loyal mother, suffered her to govern the Portuguese people
for seven years, though in a state of insanity. This might
be some consolation to me, for had this royal lady been in
her right mind, she would not certainly have given herself
the trouble of being angry at me. It is however a melan-
choly consolation that is derived out of the misfortunes of
princes. Sometimes they said the king of Portugal was
not willing that I should stay in his country: but as there
was no king in Portugal, I could see clearly that this was
not true.
In the mean time, however, couriers went and returned
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 99
from Lisbon; and I was told that my fate depended upon
their news. At length I was for the first time in my life
brought to trial, of, which I must give you a summary re-
port.
LETTER XIII.
Report of my Trial — Mr. Sealy.
THE same minister who came formerly to arrest
me, came now with the same interpreter to judge me.
He asked me my father's name, my mother's name, their
calling and my calling. I was obliged to declare that I
wasjiUio dum padre; literally the son of a father, but fi-
guratively the son of a priest. And I fear this heresy in
my nativity might have done me no service. I was then
asked why I was so dangerous that I could not get leave
to live in my own country? To which I answered, that
my conduct since I had been in Portugal had been the very
reverse of dangerous: and the respect due to the king of
England and the government of my country should stand
in place of an answer to such questions, because it would
be supposing a bad compliment to the queen of Portugal,
and such as the king of England, who was a gallant mon-
arch, was incapable of paying her majesty to send a dan-
gerous subject into her kingdom to live; and not only to
live, but to take security from him that he would live
there and no where else. And then I told my judge about
lord Castlereagh and the law secretary, Mr. Marsden;
.•
-
Mr.MOTKS OF
how they bad taken so many months to consider how to
draw up that security; all which time I was obliged to re-
main in gaol; and that in the end all they had done was,
Id 1 a- c out some words of lord Cornwallis, which seemed
to imply a doubt that I might be sent away by the Portu-
guese government; so sure were they that I would not be
r.whsk'J: but on the contrary*, that I should find protection
i a the passport they had given me.
I then asked my judge in my turn, whether he had ever
heard of any crime I had committed, either in my country
or his? In this country, certainly not, said he. I then
ed hint whether the passports of the viceroy of Ireland
and the king's secretary in England, were not the most
certain proofs that I had nothing to answer for in Eng-
land. And I also reminded him how highly injurious
it would be to the king of England to try his subjects
coming there with such passports, for what could in no
shape concern any but him and them. He then asked me
whether the duke of Portland was qualified to give pass-
ports? or if it was not alderman James of Dublin? I could
not help smiling at this strange question: but in truth this
little presumptuous faction in Ireland, from the habit of
insulting their fellow-citizens with impunity, had, I dare
say, by their organized partisans, some of whom are to be
found in all countries, arrogated to themselves the entire
sovereignty in every department and in every region,
without being able to foresee how short their reign was to
be or how near the day of their humiliation was at hand.
I have often thought it curious to see how in all cases they
applied the word government to their purposes. Every
man in place down to the collector of the hearth money,
lied himself government. Every man. and there were
WILLIAM SAMPSON". 101
too many who shared the public plunder., was government.
Every man in a red coat was government. Every turn-
key was government. Every hired informer was govern-
ment. Every Hessian soldier was government. Every
centry-box was government. Judge then how imposing
and awful a name must that be of an alderman of the loyal
and magnanimous corporation of Dublin. But to finish;
the judge produced a letter from a. Mr. Sealy of Lisbon,
which I had sometime before received in answer to one of
mine to him. In it was this phrase: "I cannot on account
of my political principles comply with your request." I
was called upon to explain these mysterious words, and
my trial seemed now to be narrowed to this point, what
Were Mr. Sealy's principles and my request. I certainly
know nothing of Mr. Sealy's political principles: but if I
were to judge from the specimen he gave me of his breed-
ing and his sense, I should not think favorably of them.
I had been furnished by one of his friends with a credit
upon his house, and also with a private recommendation
to him. Mr. Nash having determined me to stay at Opor-
to, offered himself to be my banker, and advised me mere-
ly to send forward my letter of recommendation to Mr,
Sealy, and to request of him to give me on the credit of it
some introductions to his friends in Oporto; and took up-
on himself to enclose the letter, with many obliging ex-
pressions touching me. His answer, which now became
the subject of my interrogatories and -the head of accusa-
tion, shews only one thing, namely, how dangerous* it is
in every case to be exposed either to the vulgar or the
vicious.
This imprisonment, though not painful in itself, filled
me on account of my wife, whom I daily expected, with
102 memoirs of
■y great disquietude. She who had been reared in the
!np of indulgence and never known either hardship or pri-
vation, might with her helpless infants arrive in this coun-
try and find me in a prison, and perhaps something even
worse. She might be exposed to other chances; be taken
prisoner into some other country, where either she might
not be able to hear of me, or if she did, might only hear
lhat which would afflict her still the more. I urged this
to my judge, who said he would represent it with the state-
ment of my answers, which he had caused to be written
down, to his superior, and so finished my trial. But this
painful consideration and the close confinement again af-
fected my health. The pain in my chest encreased: I lost
all appetite, and certainly a few weeks more would have
put an end to all my persecutions.
LETTER XIV.
Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Comedians, Friars, #c.
A Doctor was, however, upon great entreaty, allow-
ed to give me a plaister for my breast. I was permitted,
but only in the presence of the interpreter, to receive a
visit from Mr. Nash. It had been the day before pro-
posed to me to set out for Lisbon, where it was said I
should see the English and Portuguese ministers ami be
set at liberty. Mi*. Nash exhorted me strongly to accept
of the proposal, and told me he, had conferred on the sub-
ject with the corrigidor, who was exceedingly concerned
wiiitiAM sampsox. 10;.
and interested for me, and who had shewn him all my
papers assorted in the most favorable order, which would
be returned to me on my arrival at Lisbon: that there
should be but one gentleman to conduct me and my man,
and that I should pay my own expenses and be without
restraint: that at Lisbon I should be set free, or that th
very worst that could happen, would be to send me to. Eng-
land, where I should remain in peace with my family; or
if that was disagreeable to me, to some neutral country
which I should prefer, perhaps Hamburg. He even went
so far as to say that he would pledge his word of honor
and be answerable with his heart's blood that no mischief
whatever should happen to me. All this he said with an
air of kindness and sincerity, which made a strong im-
pression on me; and added, seizing both my hands affec-
tionately, that if my wife should arrive after my departure,*
she should find in him a brother and in Mrs. Nash a sister.
And also that he would charge himself with forwarding
any letters or commissions or any effects I might leave
behind me. The candid and kind manner in which he
expressed himself, put it out of my power to reply. It
might appear headstrong and even ungenerous not to ac-
quiesce; and I instantly consented. Though long perse-
cution had taught me to distrust, and I boded secretly
some perfidy which I did not chuse to hint at; but the se-
quel will shew how true those boilings were.
The following morning, being the first of April, I wa?
called up; and on looking out of my window perceived that
I was to have three men armed to escort me; but of
this I made no complaint. The wreather was cold and un-
settled; and not daring to expose myself to the rain, in the
feeble state of my health, I travelled in a machine in use
1<)4
MEMOIRS 0*
in that country called a Jitter, suspended between two
mules; at the side of which walked a fellow with a stick,
who did nothing but curse and beat these poor animals.
My sonant was mounted on a mule as were all the others
except the courier, the chief of the expedition, who rode
on a poney.
Were I writing a work of fancy, there would be ample
matter in the history of our caravan. We were joined at
the ferry by two Dominican friars; the prior and a novi-
ciate of the convent of Villa Real. In their conversation
I found great resource, as by means of the Latin language
I could express the names of many things which I did not
know in the Portuguese. They seemed very kind-hearted;
and when in conversation I mentioned the misfortunes
of my country, of which mine were but a slight instance,
and particularly the state of cruel proscription in which
those of the Catholic faith were held in their native land, I
could perceive the tears more than once to start in the eyes
of the young man.
We had some persons of an opposite calling to that of
the good fathers; a family of Italian comedians. From
one of the ladies, with whom I had an opportunity of con-
versing as we walked together one day along the road, I
found that they had been invited by the corrigidor to 0-
porto. That he, without knowing their language or their
art, had taken upon him to manage their opera, and fin-
ished by putting them in prison for not giving full execu-
tion to his conceptions. From this prison they had been
at length delivered, and were making the best of their
way to the frontiers.
There were also some of a meaner description; such as
fish-carriers, carrying eels as a present to some Fidalgo
WILLIAM SAMPSON'. |0i
from the corrigidor: also a mulatto woman* following her
husband (a soldier) to Lisbon, and a poor barefooted Gal-
lego going to seek for work in the same metropolis. This
latter danced and sung before us the whole way; and was,
though the most despised, doubtless the most happy of the
party. At our table, between couriers, scribes, friars and
comedians, mule-drivers, litter-driver, and their valets,
we sat down together to dinner, seldom less than fifteen
persons; and our constant repast, twice in the day, was
boiled fowls buried in greasy yellow rice, of which I
scarcely tasted. At night we of the higher sort lay down
promiscuously on the floor, where mattresses of straw were
laid, the inns affording nothing better; for there was but
one inn on all the way in which there was a bedstead
In return for this I was quite unrestrained upon the
road. As often as I chose I got out to walk; sometimes
mounted the mule of my servant, but oftener the horse of
the courier, on which occasions I had a sword and a case
of pistols before me. I got leave to walk about the towns
with one of my guards, and in Coimbra I bought some
books, and conversed with some of the students of the uni-
versity in a coffee-house; and it was every where given
out, that I was a grandee going to the minister of state.
After seven days travelling we arrived in the metropolis.
The friars took leave of me at the last stage. The come-
dians had staid behind to give a concert at Coimbra.
The fish carriers had long since disappeared. The MuV
jattress and the Gallego had abandoned me to my fortune,
and there remained but such mules, mule-driver's valets,
scribes, couriers, &c. as were in my immediate pay. The
courier rode on, as he said, to announce me to the minis-
ter; but upon entering the suburbs I saw him waiting for
[06
MtMoins or
as at the cud of a street, and then drawing up with the
rest in regular order of procession.
I was conducted through a number of dirty streets, to
the foot of a frightful prison, where my future house-mates
were eyeing me through their hars. I asked the Courier,
if that was his minister's hotel? He answered, no: for the
minister, he said, was not ahle to receive me, nor to see me
this evening, being very busy: hut that I was going to
lodge in a fine apartment, built for kings and queens. I
asked him, if I was going to gaol? and he denied it, saying,
that this was not a gaol, but a castle: that the minister
would come to see me in the morning, and that in the
mean time they would all go and announce my arrival to
the English ambassador.
I need not tell you, that I was not the dupe of this mum-
mery. I was taken into a great hall, where was an old man,
who deliberately putting on his spectacles and opening a
book, asked me my name, my country, and some other im-
pertinent questions. I asked him if there were lodgings
bespoke for me by the minister, who was to come and visit
me in the morning? He said he knew nothing of the mat-
ter. I then asked him, if he knew who I was? He said
no: why then do you detain me in prison, without knowing
who I am? He continued his work, searching my trunks
and my secretary; took away every thing that was of metal
or glass; and the guides withdrawing to announce me, as
they said, to the English ambassador, he offered to conduct
me to my room. Before I went, I told him I should wish
to have a little explanation with him, but would have need
for that of some person who could do the office of interpre-
ter. He asked me in what language? and I said, either in
English or French. A French captain of a privateer, a
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 107
•prisoner of war, was then called upon. After assuring
myself that no other person then-present spoke French. I
profited by the moment, to request that he would watch
where they were about to put me, and if possible to find
means of speaking with me, as I had been a victim of the
most frightful perfidy, and had reason to expect foul play.
I was then taken through a long filthy passage to a dun-
geon: the smell of this approach, which was infectious, gave
but a disagreeable presentiment of the dwelling to which it
led: nor was the presage deceitful. A door of solid wood
was first opened, and then a heavy iron gate, in which was
an opening or flat hole made by the divergent direction
given to the bars, through which a plate or trencher could
be thrust, in every thing resembling the den of a wild
beast. The floor was damp; there was no chimney nor
window; but high up, next the springing of the arch, for it
was vaulted, was a square hole; and that the sky as well as
earth might be hid from the tenant of this gloomy cell, a
wall was built up before the opening. Nor were the other
senses more regaled: the roaring noise of prisoners, the
clinking of chains and the ringing of bars, was all that
could be heard.
There was however allowed me a chair and a little table;
and I had a small travelling mattress, which had first
served me on board of ship, afterwards at the inns on the
road, and now more essentially here. This I obtained per-
mission to have spread upon the damp floor. My servant
was taken to the house of the minister of the police, in
spite of his entreaties to remain with me. There he met
-a negro servant who spoke English and told him that lie
need fear nothing, for we were in a Christian country.
John asked him, if he knew where his master and lie Mere
108 MEMOIRS piE
to be sent; whether it was to England or to Hamburg?
other said to a better country than either. He asked
him, it' it was to Spain? and he answered, perhaps so, or
to a better country stilh But as to me, I was not favored
with any explanation.
The first thing I requested to have was some tea, which
was brought with bread and some butter upon a cabbage
leaf. I asked for a knife, which was refused: I then had
recourse to my penknife. They desired to see it, laid
hold of it and kept it And one of them asked if I had gar-
ters; for that I must give them up. My patience forsook
me, and I asked them whether it was with the intention to
assassinate me, that they would deprive me of every means
of self-defence; or if they meant to put in practice some
atrocity, such as they supposed might drive me to despair,
that in such case it was better to meet danger than to fly
from it: and that they should therefore find, from the les-
son I should give them, that I was of a country where for-
tune had sometimes failed, but courage never.
Happily this scene had no tragical catastrophe: for after
the first surprise seignior Joseph Timudo, the deputy-
gaoler or book-keeper, the same who had first written
down my name with Joachim; the principal turnkey, both
approached with extended arms and embraced me, adding
these flattering words "gusto multo esto genie:" I love those
people greatly. I now had credit enough to borrow my
own penknife, to eat my bread and butter, but was watch-
ed all the time by four or five of them, and surrendered it
up when I had done.
Shortly after I was left alone a voice spoke through the
outer key-hole. It was the French captain, to tell me to
arm myself with couraee, for it was said that it was I who
WILXIAM SAMPSON. 109
had made tli,e revolution in Holland, I had only time to
answer that it was not true, and that I had never been in
Holland, when he was obliged to run away.
Next morning my doors were opened by a new set of
turnkeys (for they changed daily) who saluted me with
many nauseous compliments; each asking me in his turn if
I had passed the night well. My first care was to see
whether I could not by money, although I had but little.?,
ransom myself from this dungeon. I was told the principal
governor, seignior Francisco, was then in the country-
hut expected shortly. I asked when the minister was to
come to see me; and they still said in a few days, but that
lie had too much business at present.
At length I was fortunate enough to obtain an audience
of Seignior Francisco, I requested him to put me in some
place where I should have good air to breathe; a view less
melancholy, and the society of some person, if such there
were, like myself, imprisoned without crime, or at least
without any crime that was degrading. He promised me
all this, and mentioned some one of my own country, who
was imprisoned, he said, for something, as he understood
of a similar nature. I was then taken up stairs to a very
small room, where was a Mr. M'Dermott, a master taylor
and inn-keeper, whose beard was long and bushy, and
whose crime was free-masonry.
Had I been a brother mason I might have derived, per-
haps, some mysterious consolation from this adventure.
As it was, it was a relief to hear a human voice, instead of
spending day after day, and night after night, in frightful
solitude. Mr. M'Dermott, my new companion, had lived
long in the island of Madeira as well as in Lisbon. His
? conversation was not barren of anecdote and amusement,
liT< MEMOIRS Of
and the window afforded a beautiful view of the river: but
to enjoy that, it was necessary to rlimb up and crouch in it.
The principal objection was that ourtwfl mattresses cover-
ed almost the entire floor., so that there was no room for ex-
ercise; and Ibis forced me to lie upon the bed, and augment-
ed the complaint in my chest
But whatever consolation I found in the society of my
present companion, one circumstance in his case gave me
sensible uneasiness. Whilst he was in secret here,, his
wife and children were confined in another prison for the
same crime, or for misprison of free-masonry. And lie
never could obtain so much from the keepers, as to know
whether she was enlarged or not. One day, when any
thing was sent to liim by his friends, he thought to have
discovered in a handkerchief or a napkin a proof that she
Was free: and the next day he was certain of the contrary.
This barbarity towards the wife and children of a man
charged only with free-masonry, was a bad omen for mine
should she come to this poor country*
One night my companion was raised from his bed-
hand-cuffed and taken through the streets to a judge's
house to trial. He told me on his return what passed.
He was asked many questions touching the danger of free-
masonry to church and king; to which he opposed the in-
stances of kings and princes that were grand master ma-
sons: and used other arguments, so Well put and so well
taken, that he obtained, not his enlargement nor that of
his wife and children, nor any permission to hear from or
to see them, nor any assurance against their transportation
or his, but an indulgence, of which I profited as well as
he, a permission to be shaved.
About this time my health suffering greatly from close
WIT.T.TAM SAMPSON. Ill
confinement, I demanded another audience of seignioi
Francisco, and obtained by like persuasion, to be changed
into a very spacious room, commanding a beautiful pros-
pect of the harbor, the country and a great part of the
city. There were at least eight great windows without
glass; but secured with immense bars of iron lengthways
on the outside, and a massive cross-grate within: and the
wall was so thick, that one might have lived in the space
between as in a cage. Upon the whole however it was
clean and healthy. I need not observe that there was no
glazed windows, and this for two reasons: First, that such
an article of luxury has yet been but sparingly introduced
into this kingdom. And secondly, because according to
customs of Portugal those committed to prison by the min-
ister of the police, arc for that reason alone put into secret;
and being so they are not to be trusted with any thing so
dangerous as glass, lest they might find the means of evad-
ing the object of their imprisonment, and rescuing them
selves from misery by death.
But what rendered this place still more commodious
was three little recesses which belonged to it, which might
serve as bed-chambers. One of these was allotted to me,
another to my servant, and the third had been for some
time occupied by a young Danish nobleman, Mr. A ,
who had been imprisoned here to screen him from the con-
sequences of some military insubordination, in an emi-
grant regiment, into which his distresses had driven him
for refuge. Seignior Francisco, before he agreed to re-
move me into this new apartment, had apprised me of the
company I was to have. He told me that this gentleman,
who was also a grandee of his country, had been recom-
mended to him by his ambassador. That the only thing
! I : MEMOllib Ot
ihiit could be disagreeable to me in his society was his tou.
at relish for wine. He told me to be cautious of offer-
ing him any means of exceeding; and told me moreover,
that the cause of his quitting his own country, where he
had been of the corps of chasseurs nobles, was a quarrel
and a duel in which, I understood, he had killed his man;
and the cause of his being in Portugal, the accidental cap-
ture of a ship in which he was a passenger. And upon
the whole, that unless rendered dangerous by wine, his
disposition was kind and amiable; and all this I found
afterwards to be true.
"When the gaoler first presented me to him and asked
his consent that we should live together, he was reading in
Ills bed. There was ill his countenance a look of sullen
indignation, which softened greatly towards me. We were
recommended to each other as two grandees of different
countries, but under a common misfortune; and I had the
satisfaction to find Mm as well pleased as I was with the
new arrangements.
But his dislike to the Portuguese was immoderate; and
often as the turnkeys came at night to ring the iron
■s and wish us good rest, or with similar offensive com-
pliments to examine if we were in our beds in the morning;
still more, whenever he sat down to table, he was unable to
contain himself; less so still when they went through the
daily exercises of Godliness in obliging the prisoners to
sing prayers. On these occasions, one of the keepers stood
over them with a stick, and wherever there was any lag-
ging of devotion lie quickened it with a blow. This in-
strument, you may suppose, produced an effect more strong
than pleasing, to express which there is no term of music
other art that I know of. I never coidd distinctly her.)
WILLIAM sAMrsosr. . 1 1 }%
the more delicate modulations, in which I had doubtless a
great loss. Nor could I distinguish the words, but I
imagined they were Latin, and as. such entitled to my res-
pect. Taken altogether with the clinking of the chains
and the sound of the cudgel, it was very far short of what
we may conceive of choiring angels. The thing might
please God Almighty, inasmuch as it was done with that
intention; but it certainly contributed nothing to the re-
creation of my afflicted companion, the noble Dane, whose
gratification, it was evident, had not been at all consulted.
Another institution which displeased him,, and me no
less, was in a strong building touching this gaol, and I
believe making part of it, and projecting from it at a right
angle. This was a place of surety for locking up married
ladies, such as the wives of sea-captains and others, who
went on voyages; to be kept safely until the return of then-
husbands. We had more than once an opportunity of see-
ing some of them, when on certain holy-days and Sundays,
they were allowed to come for a few minutes to a balcony
which looked into a waste piece of ground. And I could
not but have a fellow-feeling for them: for if beauty wras
the crime for which they suffered, I can with my hand
upon my heart, and with all truth and certainty, bear wit-
ness in their favor, that they were as innocent of the
charge as I was of high treason.
My situation, however, was changed for the better, in
so much that John, who wras hitherto excluded, was nov
permitted to imprison himself with me. He was allowed
also to go out to the market, but as he did not know a
word of the language, I could profit little by that indul-
gence. I desired him to go rather to the Exchange, and.
enquire from any English gentleman he might happen to
I I H MEMOIRS 01
see there, whether there were any passengers arrived by
the packets, and it' possible to have some news of his mis-
tress. He did so, and was questioned in his turn. He
had the satisfaction to hear some persons express them-
selves with courage and indignation at the treatment I had
suffered; hut he had also more occasions than one to prove
how thick the black spell of terror was cast around me.
For in this country, as it had been in mine, to communi-
cate with a secret prisoner is to brave destruction. I shall
relate, to you a short anecdote, which may very well serve
to illustrate this observation.
W hilst I was locked up with the free-mason, I heard
two men talking without upon a terrace opposite the win-
dow: they did not see us, for there were two buttresses or
blinds built up to prevent any communication with oth
cr parts of the prison: but as I heard them abusing the
minister and calling him by the gross epithet of fillio du
puta (son of a wh— e) I thought that those who disrespect-
ed him so much, might have some feeling for such as he
oppressed. I called to them and requested they would
speak to me. They came, and at first were affable
enough. They asked me if I was a Frenchman, suppos-
ing me probably to be oidy a prisoner of war? I an-
swered that I was not, but an unfortunate stranger* put
into secret without any crime or charge whatever; and that
I could not even have the satisfaction of getting any per-
son to speak to: nor I either, says one of them, will not
speak to you, and in an instant they both disappeared.
After being now for so long a time deprived of all means
of writing, paper, pen and ink were now set designedly before
me; I did not attempt to profit by it, as I feared to commi*
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. i 1 5
any person in my misfortunes, and bad made tip my mind
to wait patiently the denouement.
There was employed to sweep the room, and afterwards
through negligence or intention, to keep the key, a Rus-
sian, ^convicted of robbery. He had been a sailor in the
English navy, and spoke English fluently: he also spoke
the Portuguese sufficiently, and the Danish and German,
besides his own, and possibly some other languages. He
made no denial of his crime, which was that of having
taken a man's watch and pushed him in the water. He
contented himself, which was better, with giving it a fa-
vorable version and a delicate turn. He was notwith-
standing of an order superior to the rest. He was zealous
and compassionate, even without interest. He often en-
treated me to be kind to the unfortunate gentleman beside
me, and was officious in stealing a cup of tea to my first
companion, M'Dermott. He at different times borrowed
money from me to lay out in candles and tobacco, in which
articles he dealt: but always, unless when he had an un-
fortunate run at play, repaid me honorably. He gave me
once a particular proof of his skill in his art: for after
telling me a touching story of a poor prisoner in secret
who wished to write to his wife, he borrowed a little silver-
ed ink-bottle from my secretary, which had been shortly
before restored to me; and having lost that, he borrowed
the sand bottle, its companion, as a model to have it re-
placed, leaving me in some regret for my loss,, but in .grand
admiration of his talents and resources.
He besides possessed a subtle diplomatic cast of mind;
and seeing my reluctance to write, he was employed to
bend me to the purpose in hand. Are you not, says he, a
British subject; and have you not your minister to apply
lib MEMOIRS OF
to? No British subject can be arrested here, but by the*
warrant of the Jiulgc Conservador; and if he is, the Eng-
lish minister lias but to speak one word, and he is set at
liberty. I speak from what I know, says he, for I have
seen many English prisoners here, and that has always
been the ease; You must have committed some terrible
crime and ran away from your country without any pass-
port, and that makes you afraid to speak.
I listened with astonishment to a discourse so ingenious,
and answered bluntly, that I had committed no crime,
nor was charged with none; that I had not run away from
my country, but had come with the most authentic pass-
ports; that I was not afraid to speak to any minister or to
any man living; but that Mr. Walpole was to my certain
knowledge as well informed of every thing respecting me
as any letter of mine could make him. God help you
then, says he, for you will be sent like a convict over the
bar! He added, that though it was as bad as death to him
if it was discovered that he let me write* nevertheless he
would incur the risque for my sake.
My reluctance to write to Mr. "Walpole arose from the
itmost moral certainty that I could tell him nothing new:
besides I had seen in a newspaper which the Danish gen-
tleman had received from his ambassador, that the state
prisoners of Ireland, in violation of the pledged faith of
government and the honor of lord Cornwallis, had been
transported to a fortress in the Highlands of Scotland.
To the agreement made with them, as I have before said,
i.hc faith of government and the honor of lord Cornwallis
had been pledged in such a manner, that the chancellor
Clare, who negotiated for the lord lieutenant, had made
b of those memorable words. It comes to this, "Eithet
WXtllAM SAMPSON. 11T
you must trust the government, or it must trust you: and the
government that could violate an engagement so solemnly en-
tered into, could neither stand nor deserve to stand." Such
was the sacred character given to this engagement, fed
which. I was also a party, hy the minister who was the
agent in it. Another of these ministers, lord Castlereagh,
as I have before stated, acknowledged to another of the
prisoners (Doctor M'Nevin) "that they (the prisoners )
had honorably fulfilled their part," and assured them, "that
the government would as religiously observe its part."
And Mr. Cooke oidy desired to know of the prisoners
"how much time would be necessary for them to dispose of
their property previous to their going abroad." Yet now I
found that they were, in defiance of every obligation by
which men not lost irredeemably to honor could be
bound, to be once more emerged in dungeons; and now, at
the time I write to you, four long years of the flower of
their lives have been consumed in hard captivity!
Of what avail then, to draw distinctions between their
case and mine? To say that I did not invite the French*
that I had labored to save the lives of my enemies, that I
had endeavored to prevent both civil war or bloodshed,
that I had sacrificed every thing to love and compassion
for my country. If the certainty that I was pure, hu-
mane and disinterested, could be any protection to me, it
would have been so to others; for amongst those immolated
to the daemon of destruction, were men of as perfect truth,
and as exalted virtue, as ever yet the light of heaven had
shone on. No! but the love of country was the general
crime. Corruption was the thing to be destroyed or be
maintained; and those who lived by it, who rioted in it,
could never forgive those who would oppose it. This wtii
118 MEMOIKS OF
tfie great secret. They knew it and 1 knew it. But they
knew that I had exposed it with some effect, and I was
ncvetf to be forgiven. I might indeed, and could upon just
occasion, forgive; but they could not.
"Forgiveness to the injured does belong;
"They never can forgive that do the wrong."
\
I scorned, therefore, to draw any distinction between
my rase and that of any other of the prisoners. They
were rebels undoubtedly, and so was I. I had not invited
the French; but my enemies had invited the Hessians,
And I did not hesitate to say, that in the general prostra-
tion of law, constitution, humanity and justice; whilst the
heaven was red with the corruscations of cottages in
ilainer-, and the earth crimsoned with the blood of human
victims; whilst the groans of those agonizing in torture,
ascended with the thick smoke that rolled as the incense
of cannibals to the idols of their bloody worship; when
justice winked as she went by, and villany exulted; and
the tears of innocence deflowered, dropped heedless and
unavenged upon the blood-stained earth; whilst the dark-
ness alone sheltered the houseless fugitives from their pur-
suers, and the despairing mother, lurking in the hiding
places of the wild tenants of the fields, stretched out her
powerless hands to feel if her shivering offspring, without
other covering than the mantle of the night, were yet alive
and near her! I did not hesitate to say, in such a moment,
ive must rebel! we must not be disarmed! Whatever spe
cious pretext may be urged for the commission of such
rrimes, they are not to be endured bv honorable men: but
if they be committed in furtherance of usurpation and of
fobbery, they are to be resisted as treasons of the blackest
die. Horrid alternative! On the one hand stood rebellion ,
onf the other treason and murder! The fury of party left
no middle course. I preferred rebellion to murder and
treason, and it is for this that traitors have called me
traitor, whilst I have cast the appellation in their teeth.
1 do call heaven to witness, that in whatever I have done
against my enemies, further than a few sportive sallies of
imagination, with which I have been charged, I have nev-
er listened to any other voice than that of conscience;., and
that neither interest nor resentment ever governed me,
nor did I yield too easily to the warm feelings of my heart.
I never acted but from conviction that I was scrupulously
right. It required courage to face the dangers of those
times; and,
"Where I could not bb just, I never yet was
VALIANT."
I would not willingly be a rebel; yet if driven to the cru-
el extremity of deciding between treason and rebellion, I
felt for which I was best fitted, and that I should rather die
a rebel, than live a traitor. You may judge, however,
with what confidence I could address a minister, whom I
knew to be already in possession of my case; and who had,
for so great a length of time, left it unnoticed, and me un-
protected. Yet that no blame might be imputed to me
hereafter, for my omitting to accept of this occasion, or any
pretext remain to my enemies to misrepresent the facts, I
consented, as you shall be informed in my next.
MEMOIRS OF
LETTER XV.
Mr, Walpolc — 4 Trick — Minister of Police — Correspond
cnce — Sweet Meats.
I began my letter to Mr. Walpote, by referring him
to the communications which I knew had been already
made to him: reminding him, very respectfully, of the pro-
tection it was his duty to afford me, and how little it would
tend to his good reputation hereafter, when better times
should come, and enquiries be made, to have been consent-
ing to so very refined and barbarous an execution, of a man
to whom he could impute no crime. I told him, moreover,
of the dangerous state of my health, and requested, that
since^ he] would fnot see me, a medical person might
at' least be allowed to visit me. I added, that upoi
the faith of a solemn agreement, I had written to my wife
and children to come to me. And that all communicatioi
between us having been intercepted, I remained in a statt
of most cruel uncertainty, and therefore begged for permis-
sion to write, in order to prevent, if it were not yet tot
late, so great a calamity. I told him, that cut off fron
all pecuniary resources, I wished to discharge a servant,
who had already, for being my servant, suffered torture
and imprisonment; and that my papers, which were the
guarantees of my personal safety, being seized, I begged
they might be restored to me. For the rest, I was better
pleased to remain where I now was, than to be exposed tc
any new insult or atrocity.
Willi AM SAMPSON. 121
A messenger was called who, instead of taking my letter
■to the British ambassador, took it to the intendente of the
police, which I discovered from him on his return to bo
paid, and complained of it to the gaolers. They all with
one consent set up a hyprocritical lamentation for the ruin
brought upon them by permitting me to write. I paid no
more regard to this, than to any other of their vile farces,
but offered Joachim a cruxada nova, to carry another
letter to the British ambassador, and bring me an answer,
I wrote without any opposition and without any difficulty.
Joachim undertook to carry my letter. This letter was
only to inform Mr. Walpole, that a former one addressed
to him had been carried to the intendente of the police,
and to request that he would have the goodness to send
for it, and favor me with an answer.
ANSWER,
Lisbon, Jipril 17, 1799.
Sir,
AS I have no intercourse with the intendente
of the police, to authorise me to send for the letter you al-
lude to, I must confine myself to acknowledging the re,
ccipt of that which has been just delivered to me,
Jlnd am, Sir,
Vmir most obedient humble servant,
RoBT. W4IPOIE.
The next day I sent my servant with a guide to Mr,
Walpole's, who delivered him a letter as nearly as possible
in the words of that which had been given to the intendente
of the police, and received this answer:
Q,
122 MEM01KS OF
Lisbon, April 18, 1799.
Sift
I have received your letter of this morning;
that to which you refer of yesterday, has not yet been de-
livered to me. I shall make application for the leave yon
request, which I have no doubt will be granted to you.
I am, Sir,
Four most obedient humble servant,
ROBT. WaLPOIE.
I waited some days without further result; and again
sent my man, who returned with the following letter:
Lisbon, April 21, 1799.
Sir,
I must assure you, that I immediately compli-
ed with my promise, of making the application you re-
quired of me by your letter of Friday evening, and I re-
ceived an answer from the secretary of state, that orders
were given by the intendente to report upon the subject of
your imprisonment. I was in hopes that some speedier
method might have been adopted in regard to what more
immediately in point of humanity concerns you personally*
I shall immediately renew my application, which I hope
will be attended to.
I am, Sir,
Four most obedient humble servant,
Robt. Walpole.
On this as on the former occasion, my servant had been
sent to the house of Mr. Mathews (so I think his name
was) the secretary of Mr. Walpole. He was kindly
treated by this gentleman, as also by a lady at his house,
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 123
who expressed much concern for me, and sent me as a
present a pot of conserves of Brazil.
But they told my man, that I was to be sent on board
an English ship of war to an English prisonship at Gib-
raltar; and when he murmured against such injustice in
the English government, from whose ministers alone such
orders could proceed, he was cautioned by the lady to
hold his tongue, and advised, if he should be interrogated,
to say nothing, but merely that he was my servant and
ignorant of my affairs; otherwise she sahl it might be
Worse for him than for me.
LETTER XVI.
v5 n Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intende nte.
AT length came the doctor: I do not recollect his
name, but I understood he was the accoucheur of the in-
tendant's lady. He so far differed from the bridewell
doctor, that he treated me with respect and good manners.
He excused his minister from all share in my persecution,
assuring me that his lordship was very sorry for me, and
very much concerned for what I was made to suffer. He
complimented me on my patience, which he called animo
graiulc: he said justly, that it was not of medicines I had
need for the restoration of my health, but of liberty and
tranquility, and that nothing was so dangerous for me as
a prison. He promised to use all his interest with the in-
*endente in my favor, and asked me, what country I should
124 MEMOIRS OF
like to go to? mentioning several times Fiance and Spain ;
I answered, that having been so long deprived of all politi-
cal intelligence, I could not tell what countries were in al-
liance with England, what Were in hostility, or what were
neutral. Or in the strange changes that succeeded each
other, how long any country might remain in its present
posture. But as to the two countries he had named,
France and Spain, I could not consent to go to either of
them, because I had made an agreement; to which it was
my intention as to every other of my life, to be true; at
least until it should be so flagrantly broken on the other
part, as to leave me no choice. I then explained to him
the labyrinth of vexations in which I was involved. To
France or Spain I could not go, because those countries
being at war with the king of England, it might be made
a pretext for subjecting me to, the penalties of high treason,
and serve at least as a justification for the crimes already
committed against me. That my going to a neutral coun-
try, or even to one in alliance with the king of England,
might be turned to my disadvantage, as I was obliged,
before I could get out of bridewell, to give security that I
sliould go to Portugal, and remain there during the con-
tinuance of the war. And if I went home or to any part
of the British dominions, I was a felon by act of parlia-
ment, and transportable to Botany-Bay: and though that
parliament had shortly after this atrocious law annihilated
itself, yet "The mischief that men do, lives after them."
Amongst all the neutral countries of which I thought,
two only seemed free from objection, Genoa and Hamburg.
The former I might have preferred on account of its cli-
mate; the latter on account of its proximity to my own,
and the greater facility of having communication with my
WIXlIAM SAMPSON. 123
family; with either I should have been contented. You
know, however, to what unexampled misery the one was
afterwards reduced by the war, and how in the other* the
rights of nations and of hospitality have been violated in a
degree beyond what had ever before happened amongst
the hordes of the deserts. Thus it is, that mean and jea-
lous tyranny hems in its victims on every side with snares
and dangers.
I do not know whether what I said to this gentleman
might have surprised his sensibility, or whether the symp-
toms he betrayed were counterfeited; but they were those
of strong emotion; and he promised to repeat all I had
said to the intendente with equal force, and hoped to ob-
tain for me the permission to remain in Portugal as I de-
sired: Though he said it might be under some restrictions.
After some days he returned and told me, that the min-
ister had been very much affected by my story, and that,
particularly when he mentioned the chain of difficulties
by which I was encompassed, that he had started as if wit!
surprise and agitation, and desired him to repeat the dif-
ferent points, that he might write them down. He advis-
ed me also to write to the intendente a letter in English,
but to be cautious to use such terms of deference as our
language afforded, and to call him my lord; and upon the
whole to use the stile which, being translated into Portu-
guese, as it would be, should be found most agreeable to
the usages of that country, and shew a due consideration
of his quality.
I thanked him for his friendly intimation and complied
to the best of my power. My letter was sent: and I think
it was on the following day I was called into the same hall
Where I first made my entree; and there, in the presence
1
l£6 MEM01BB OF
\i( the gaoler, I received from the hands of an officer 61
the police, my papers for which I gave him a receipt.
They were all numbered in a certain order, as if they had
Bi \ ed as references to some statement; and I think they
had the air of having recently arrived from England!
The only one of any curiosity that I could miss, was that
famous letter With which Mr. Scaly took upon him to in-
sult me, touching his political principles. Why this gen-
tleman's letter was taken from among the rest, I do not
know. It could not surely be, that he was in the manage-
ment of this affair, and wished to suppress a production
Which might one day turn to his shame.
LETTER XV U.
Tried again — Jlcquitted — Attempt at suicide — My danger— -
Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears — Antonid
Italian nobleman — Lady Cruel perfidy English
threats — Gibraltar prison-ship — Another Gaol.
BEFORE I proceed further I must mention one or
I wo occurrences which happened about this time. One
night I was at supper with the Danish gentleman,
When Joachim, the most odious of the turnkeys, came to
me, and abruptly desired me to put on my coat and take
off my bonnet, for that the judge was waiting for me to
appear before him: I smiled at his official gravity, but did
as he desired, and followed him to another part of the pri-
son, which I believe might not have been entirely con-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. fcg?
■>■
structed for the use of kings and queens, and was taken
up a narrow ladder through a trap-door and into a cock-
where the court was sitting. This august trihmnii
consisted of two mean-looking persons, the judge and his
clerk, who sat facing each other at a tahle. I was placed
on a diagonal line with a good deal of method, as if to have
my picture drawn; and near me was placed a genteel
looking person, whom I at first took for some high emana-
tion from the court; hut found afterwards to he Mr. Reg-
nier, the gaoler of another prison, who was brought there
to serve as interpreter: from which, and more that I had
occasion to observe, I concluded that a gaoler in this
country is a person of more dignity than a judge. In-
deed I had, before going into that despotic country, been
prepared by what I had witnessed, to receive such an
impression.
I was now led through nearly the same absurdities as in
Oporto, except that this judge dwelt much upon the story
and name of Oliver Bond, and seemed to doubt that a gov
eminent could make such an agreement, to accept of one
man's banishment to save the life of another. I told him
that the fact was so, and that he might write ii down, and
I would sign it. But I told him that it was not I who
singly signed this act of self-devotion, to save the single
life of Oliver Bond; for however willing I might have
been, that man was too brave and too generous to have
accepted such a sacrifice; but that I was one of many
who, after braving every accuser, had subscribed to a mea-
sure presented under a very different form from what per-
fidy had since given it, in the hopes of putting a stop to
that system, of which the atrocity will hereafter rank m
history with whatever has been perpetrated of most foul,
(IS Ml, MOlliS OF
I owned that such a sacrifice must appear difficult of
belief to those who had never seen nor felt the influence of
public spirit, nor the love of their species or their country;
yet that acts of generosity infinitely beyond that, were
common even amongst the poorest and most oppressed in
my country. lie then asked me, what had been the
questions put to me in Oporto, when I was examined there?
I told him they were much the same as those he had asked
me, and that my answers were of course the same; as I had
but one answer, and that was the truth, for all persons and.
all occasions: that my persecution was a violation of jus-
tice and a scandalous indecency, as useless as shameful to
its authors; that it was founded upon disgraceful perfidy
and therefore I requested he wTould put a speedy end to it-
He said he would submit what had been written down to
his superiors; and I, after reading it over, and finding it
to contain nothing of any importance, subscribed my name
to it, and J oachim led me back with a less stern aspect to
my companion.
As to this gentleman, his impatience encreased daily.
One evening in particular, he received a note from his am-
bassador which nettled him. He had been that day below
among the French prisoners, and had drank more wine
than was good for him, and he suddenly after supper
snatched away a knife which I had concealed from the
eyes of the gaolers, and retired into his own room shutting
the door after him. John, mistrusting his intentions,
watched him through the key-hole, and gave the alarm just
in time for us both with all our force to burst the door open,
and prevent his putting an end to his existence. He had
made a long but superficial cut in his neck; hut the blunts
ness of the knife and the surprize of the door bursting
WUXIAM 94.MESQX. 129
open, had prevented the final execution of his project: and
I was told afterwards, that it was happy for me I had been
fortunate enough to save his life, as mine might have been
made to answer for it. And indeed there is little doubt
that my enemies would have rejoiced in so fortunate a
means of at once getting rid of my complaints, and of
branding forever a name which hitherto all their malice
could not sully.
The shame and humiliation which followed this frus-
trated attempt, rendered this young man still more mis-
erable: and yet he was to be envied in comparison with
some other inmates of this castle. There were dungeons
where human beings had lived long enough to forget their
own names, wearing out their days in darkness, nakedness
and hunger. Too happy if folly or madness came at last
to rescue them from the consciousness of what they were.
The whole science of criminal jurisprudence in Portu-
gal is this; to throw the suspected person into a secret
dungeon, which is aptly called in their judicial phrase.
Inferno (Hell.) Here the wretch remains until he is re-
ported fit to be examined. If he confesses, lie is put into
irons, and either condemned as a slave, to work in chains
or sent to Goa or the American plantations. If he does
not confess he remains in his dungeon. I mentioned to
one of the gaolers my sense of this hardship, as an obsti-
nate guilty person might deny the truth, whilst an inno-
cent one, less courageous, might very readily, to relieve
himself from such a state of misery, make a false con-
fession: his answer was laconic, "logo confesse" they
soon confess.
All these things I could have viewed as an observer, for
Z$y own mind was strongly made up to every exigence;
J>
I. 'A) MEMOIRS OF
but the thoughts of an innocent wife and children, who
might be the victims of such barbarity, were too painful
for repose. For besides the instance of the free mason's
Wife, I had learned one which touched me much nearer.
The last, occupier of my present apartment had been an
Kalian nobleman of high rank and fortune, who had been
sent out of England under the alien law, for political no-
tions displeasing to the court. His lady, who was Eng-
lish, had been ordered to Lisbon for her health. "Whilst
he was imprisoned in the castle of St. George, she was
dungeoned in secret in a separate prison, where she re-
mained some time, spitting blood. During this her most
private letters were seized upon and read, and she was at
length released only to be sent on board an English man
of war to Gibraltar, and from thence to the coast of Bar-
bary. I have known that lady since, and she certainly
never could have deserved that treatment or been capable
of giving offence to any government.
What then might be the treatment reserved for my wife,
should she arrive? Such was the consideration which
occupied my mind, leaving me otherwise insensible to all
the little tricks and vexations I was exposed to. And
what heightened these feelings was the treachery of the
turnkey, Antonio, who boasted of the sums he had received
from this unfortunate gentleman in the moments of his
impatience, by different impostures and duperies; amongst
others, that of promising to manage an interview hetween
him and his lady by a subterraneous passage; through
which he pretended a coach could pass, and of which, he
said, he had the key; and that no doubt might remain of
this infamy, he produced and offered to sell to me the very
letters which he had been so largely bribed to deliver.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 131
But to quit these details, which would swell my letter
beyond moderate bounds, and return to my story*. I have
already mentioned tliat my papers were delivered to me by
an officer. This same officer gave me notice to prepare
for quitting this prison immediately. He told me that on
that evening I was to he removed to another place, pre-
vious to my being embarked: but he would not tell me
where I was to be removed, nor to what country embark-
ed: but said that I was to have an interview in the evening
with the British and Portuguese ministers, and every
thing would be settled. Upon this he went away, and f.
locked up my papers in my travelling secretary. Scarcely
had I done this before I was desired to give up all my
effects, in order that they might be sent before me to the
place where I was going: so that had I been so disposed, I
could make no use of any of the recommendations they
contained.
The first thing that occurred to me was to make John
avail himself of his permission to go to the market; and
instead of doing so, to go to the English ambassador's,
and enquire into the truth. He did so, and received for
answer, that Mr. "SYalpole was so dangerously ill, that his
lady dared not put the dispatches before him to be signed,
and that the packet was detained for that reason.
Upon this I wrote to the intendente; John carried the
letter. He saw this minister, who told him that lie would
have the letter interpreted by his linguist, and that an an-
swer should be sent to his master in the evening.
I next requested the doctor to come to mc5 who complied
but only answered me dryly, that these things were done
very suddenly in Portugal. I was however as dry with
Mm, and the only one to whom I shewed any friendship on
133 MEMOIRS OF
parting, was the kiissian robber: for with all his vices on
liis head, he had more of the features of humanity. Per-
haps I may have judged too hardly of the doctor, if it
should appear so in future, I shall be ready to make him
all atonement in my power. One thing in his favor, I
must confess, was the jealousy the others seemed to enter-
tain of him.
h\ the evening came two oilicers of police to take me
and mv servant away. We were called down to be de-
livered to them; and each of them putting his hand into his
pocket, produced a string of hard whip-cord, for the pur-
pose of tying our hands. One of them took me aside, and
told me, with many compliments, that though he had strict
orders from the minister to tie my hands, yet seeing the
kind of person I appeared to be, he would disobey, in
hopes, however, that I would acknowledge his complai-
sance. I made no other answer than by bringing him for-
ward, and calling upon him, at his peril, to tie my hands,
if such were his orders, as it was my intention, at a proper
time, to throw the responsibility of all these insults where
it was due. This produced debate, and the project of ty-
ing me was over-ruled.
I should now, before I take leave of the castle of St.
George, mention the humble trophy I raised in honor of
the virtue I most prize, and in revenge for the many perfi-
dies I had experienced. My chief amusement had been
scratching with charcoal some rude designs upon the walls
of my recess, which John had embellished with festoons of
oranges: With a morsel of this charcoal, I hastily traced
the following passage, which, if I remember well, is to be
found in the tragedy of Douglas:
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 135
"Sincerity,
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave
Thy onward path, although the earth should gape,
And from the gulph of hell damnation cry
To take dissimulation's winding way."
Such was the rebuke I addressed to my enemies, and the
counsel I bequeathed to my successors. And now, my
friend, before we enter into other dungeons, let us take
a further pause.
LETTER XVIII.
Nocturnal Migration — Other Prison— More nauseous Dun-
geon— Hunting by Candle-Light
I was no sooner seated in the carriage with my
jiew conductor, than he began to overwhelm me with ex-
cuses and compliments, and became officious in his efforts
to amuse me; and pointed out whatever was curious as
we passed, the night being tolerably clear. I recollect
his mentioning a column in memory of the execution of
the grandees who conspired against their king; a royal
palace; the street inhabited by the gold-smiths, and various
other objects. He entreated me often to forgive him, and
promised in return to see me lodged in the best apartment
of the prison where we were going; intimating, that as it
was only a part of the gaoler's house, it might not be diffi-
cult to escape.
On our road we called at another prison, where we
134 MEMOIRS OS
took up two other persons., a gentleman and his servant,
so that our cavalcade consisted of four carriages. My
«. .,i,(iiictor told me, that this was a gentleman of my coun-
try; that lie would give orders to have us put together.
And I was in hopes to have at length obtained the compa-
ny of some person in whose misfortunes I might sympa-
tlnzc; perhaps some victim like myself, banished to make
■'ooiii for the auspicious union of his country with Great-
Britain. But when we arrived at the gaol of Belcm, the
order of procession Mas inverted, and the other prisoners
went in first, so that for this time I saw no more of them;
though from henceforth their sufferings and mine were in
seme sort to be identified.
I was detained some time in a small room of the gaol-
er, until a negress was brought through, who had reason
to Welcome me, as she was released from her secret dun*
geon in order to make room for me. I was then locked
up with my servant in a little hole, foul and filthy beyond
description. The space ofit was scarcely more than the
area of a coach. There was in it a commodity, of which
the smell was infectious. The walls were bedaubed with
ordure; and for light and air, there was only a square
orifice, through which a cat could not creep, near two fath-
oms in length, sloping upwards towards the sky. And there
v, as, for more security at the outer end, a bar of iron. This
threw upon the opposite wall a spectrum of the size of a
man's hand, where any object became visible, the rest was
utter darkness. There was in it no article of furniture;
but my mattrass was allowed for me, and John lay down
upon the floor.
It would be impossible to express what I suffered during
this night, from the difficulty of breathing in this suffocat
WlIXIAM SAMPSON. 1 :
ing hole, and from the vermin with which it abounded.
Luckily we had a flint and steel, and from time to tisap
when we could suffer no longer, we suddenly struck a
lieht, and endeavored to take the bugs and fleas that in-
fested us by surprize, and so destroy thorn.
In the morning the gaoler came to visit me, and lament-
ed that the strict orders delivered to him from the minister
by the officer who conducted me, obliged him to lodge me
so incommodiously. I told him that there must be gross
treachery somewhere, as this officer had promised to lodge
me in the best apartment in his house; and that I should
be indulged in the company of another gentleman of my
own country. He persisted that his orders were to put
me in the very dungeon where the negress had been: and
there was no appeal!
LETTER XIX.
JVbt quite so bad — Music — Amours of various Colours — L.
lays of Stale — The Saints — Something like Tom Pipes,
I found, however, through the gaoler, the means oi'
having the door left open in the day time, and soon after
for a sum of money was removed into an adjoining room,
nearly of the same size but more clean, and where there
w a bedstead. Opposite the door in the corridor there
was a barred window, but I was put upon honor not to ap-
pear at it.
I had now, however, for a companion, several hours
136 MEMOIRS 0£
every day, a son of the gaoler, an organist to one of iho
churches: lie took pleasure in English airs and country
dances; and I wrote him down from memory some that he
liked best. I had also a German flute, but could play but
little on account of my breast, which was still painful.
There was also a young officer, whose father had put
him here until he could be sent to Goa, because he would
not marry to please him. The negress had been confined
for a crime of a like tender nature, but differing in cir-
cumstances; for her lover was a young man of family, and
it was feared so enslaved to her charms, that he would
marry her. For this his family had used its power to de-
prive the poor wench of her liberty and the world of so
bright an ornament.
The gaoler, at length, for obvious reasons, became more
propitious: and upon my paying his coach-hire, put on his
diced coat, his black velvet breeches, and his sword; and
either did, or said he did, make one or more visits to the
Intendente on my behalf. But here, as before, the delays
of state intervened. It was either a church-holiday, or a
birth day, or a wedding anniversary, or a Sunday, or a
rejoicing day, or a hunting-day, or Good-Friday, or East-
er-Day. All the saints were inauspicious to me — St. Poly-
carpe, St. Hildegonde, St. Beuve, and all. In short,
among so many idle days, no moment could be spared
from pleasure or devotion for the relief of the unfortunate
or oppressed.
I bore all with patience; until at length I was told,
that I must write, not as before, in English, but in Portu-
guese, to the intendente of the police himself. This was
rather hard for me, who had but two or three months to
Jrarn the language, and that without the slightest instruc-
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 1ST
tions. I begged of my patron to assist me, as I was igno-
rant in what terms to address so great a personage as his
superior.
He complied, and the first words he dictated were
seuo qfflitto creado, your afflicted servant. I objected to
this, as though it might be proper for his minister it was
not what was due to myself. He did not seem well to
comprehend my objection; so I was forced to sacrifice my
pride, and give him carte blanche, promising to copy what-
ever he should write. But I could not shut my eyes
against the striking resemblance which my situation bore
to that of Tom Pipes, when he applied to the village
school-master for a letter to Emily, after wearing out the
original in his shoe. This epistle, which was no uncuri-
ous production, being finished, my patron charged him-
self with the delivery of it: and I was not certainly the
worse for his protection, for my restraints were much re-
laxed. I was allowed to go to the window where I could
converse freely with the family of the governor in the
court below.
LETTER XX.
Better — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect — Ladies Eyes —
Bow and Arrows — Bad shot — Hopes still.
I had nothing for it now but patience, and I en-
deavored to profit by every means of amusement that offer-
ed. There were two girls who diverted themselves riding
s
138 MEMOIRS OF
upon an ass through the yard, and each had a stick to
beat it with. 1 begged for the sticks, which were given
me through my bars. One of them was a vine, and be-.
came afterwards an instrument of great interest. To one
of these sticks I fastened a shaving-mirror, and coidd, by
holding it up before tlie window, command a view of the
gaoler's room above me, and converse with the ladies of
the mansion who could sec me in like manner. And again,
by adding the length of the other stick, I could see over
the wall, and have by that means, looking up through two
bars, a beautiful prospect of the harbor towards the sea,
including the castle of Belem. At all times I have taken
delight in such views, but I cannot say how much my mind
was now enlivened by this gay and busy scene. I watch-
ed all the manoeuvres, and observed all the colors of so
many ships of different nations, going to sea, or returning
from their voyages; but envied most those whom I saw
amusing themselves in skiffs of pleasure. I had besides
the satisfaction of discovering the position I was in near
the water's edge.
One day, whilst busied in this exercise, I observed that
i had turned the reflection of the sun upon the eyes of a
young lady in an opposite window. There was between
her and me the distance not only of the prison-yard, but
of a broad street besides; so that the only way I had of
apologizing, was by desisting: I dismounted the ma-
chine, made her a respectful bow, and laid it aside. And
taking up the flute, endeavored the best I could to make
amends; and was in my turn repaid by the condescention
with which she staid to listen.
Though this young person was a very deserving object
«>f admiration, I hadjfor paying my court to her a motive
WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 13g
Snore justifiable than that of gallantry, and warranted by
| the strictest fidelity. The persons in whose hands I was,
were in the middle of their greatest kindnesses impenetra-
bly secret; their office was to keep me deprived of liberty,
: and also of every means of attaining it. The least and
most caressing of the children had been instructed in the
I school of mystery. I naturally longed for some acquaint-
ance who was not under circumstances of necessary en-
mity to my wishes: and I could see no great objection that
the first person that offered should be young and handsome,
and of tbat sex to which alone I could ever consent to
humble myself. I therefore encouraged the hope, that by
gaining the favor of the young lady, I might in some way
profit by her friendship, though I could not say in what
manner. In this view I manufactured the vine into a bow.
and the old box into arrows, and began by shooting at
marks in the yard, letting the children win a few vintiin
pieces to keep them in my interest, and in this manner
concealed my project. On one of the arrows, instead of
feathers, I fixed a paper, on which was written a billet in
the Portuguese language, couched nearly in these terms:
"If youth and beauty be not deceitful, and that you can be
sensible to the undeserved misfortunes of a strancer, eh e
me some tokens of your permission, which I shall faith-
fully respect, and I shall communicate much more." This
done, I shot the arrow at her window. It unluckily hit
against the frame, and bounded back into the street, and
shortly afterwards I saw her father enter with it in his
band, and assemble in a groupe, this young lady, another
malicious laughing little girl, and an elderly person that I
took to be a governante. I was in great anxiety lest I
bad been the cause of pain where it was so much ray in*
140 MEMOIRS OF
tcrcstas well as my wish to ])lease. But when I saw the
dear young lady pat the cheeks of her father, and that
he suffered such tender play, my fears vanished, and I
even went the length to hope that he also had seen the
thing in the true light and become my friend. I therefore
renewed my diligence, and finding by her gestures that
she no longer approved of my first mode of communication,
I broke some of my arrows in her view in token of obedi-
ence; and invented in their place a better stratagem, if
such a name can be given to so loyal a manner of making
known one's griefs. I hollowed out an orange rhind, and
with a thread unravelled from a stocking, contrived to
throw it over the wall next the sea when the tide was not full.
In the same manner if I had been happy enough to have
been favored with an answer, I could have drawn it up.
Nor was I without hope; for whether it was the illusion of
an imagination in search of some agreeable deception, or
a substantial, material fact, I thought I felt a little twitch
at the end of the cord: I thought I felt it in my fingers: I
am sure I felt it in my heart. If you, a philosopher, skilled
in the wonderful works of nature, and deeply read in her
mysterious books, can tell me what principle it was that
could communicate bv so frail and flimsv a conductor as
an old stocking-thread through the stone walls and iron
bars of a flinty gaol, a fire more rapid than the electric
spark; a movement more subtle than the galvanic jluid,
you will relieve me from some curious doubts. What, you
will say, was the effect? from that we may discover the
cause. It was a kind of sudden vibration of gratitude,
hope, joy, and what not. Perhaps, if duty and inclination
had not long since taught me to love but one, then far a-
way~ but I fear it is getting into my pen, and the shortest
WILLIAM SAMPS03C. 14 1
follies are the best. However, having digressed so far in
hopes of varying the tedious story of ray griefs, I shall
complete the picture of my whimsical situation. In the
first place, the good papa with a laudable vigilance had
placed himself in the garret, and a sharp look out he kept.
Again there was another little round laughing young lady,
married or single, I knew not which, dressed in a military
dress, who seemed to take pleasure in provoking and in-
sulting me with a pair of large black eyes. I was obliged
in my own defence to shoot at her several times, to drive
her from her post, which brought upon me the enmity of her
duenna who, after putting the young wicked one from the
window, came to it herself. I made grimaces at her; she
made faces at me. I threatened to shoot her; she threat-
ened to have me punished. When I took up my flute to
play to the true object of my attention, this little soldier
lady would take it to herself, and dance to my music. I
had, besides, a trick for the father; for I could see where lie
hung up his hat, and knew by that when he was gone out.
You Avill say this was carrying the thing too far. No! for
our commerce was most innocent. Tiic ladies were se-
cure in the iron bars that restrained me, and still more in
the purity of my thoughts, and they knew that the fullest
effect their charms could have was but leading captivity
captive. In short I had enough upon my hands, but I
was not discouraged, until all such fond hopes were at
once cut off, as you shall see in the sequel.
I MTs.uoiiis or
LETTEB XM.
The Neighbors — Infernal Dungeons.
BEFORE I pursue the course of my adventures, I
think it may not be uninteresting to my friend, to know*
among what persons I was now living. I was one day
surprised in the corridor, by the voice of a man asking me
abruptly in the French language, if the negress was gone
out? "Monsieur, la negresse est tilt sortie?" I looked
round in vain for the person or the place from whence this
voice issued; but it was not until a following day, that I
perceived fingers through a small hole in a step that led
down from the gaoler's quarters to this wing which I in-
habited. The light gave obliquely on the spot, and by re-
flection, so that it was scarcely visible; within was entire
darkness: and when I approached my mouth to this orifice
to speak, the smell was poisonous.
I asked the unhappy tenant of this cell, for what he had
been immured there? and he answered, pour un marriage
ile la Repwblique; from which I at first concluded he had
lost his senses: but I found afterwards that he had actually
married a French woman under the revolutionary forms
when in France: that she had separated from him: that
iipon his return he had consulted the emigrant priests,
who affirmed the marriage to be null: that another advan-
tageous match offering, he had proposed, but not con-
cluded the second marriage; for which crime, as he told
me, he had been long in this dungeon. His anxiety about
WILLIAM SAMPSQX. J4j
•Uie negress was, that if she had got out by means of an ex~
animation, he would have concluded himself to have bee«
passed over, and to have no more hope. He begged of m«
to purchase him some bread, as for myself, offering me at
tho same time the price of it through the hole, from which
I judged that hunger was a part of his punishment. I do
not take upon myself to say what might have been the dc
gree of this unfortunate being's crime, but his punishment
was certainly severe. I saw him when at night he had
got a candle to pick the vermin off his body. His beard
was long, and his aspect miserable. His dungeon way
deep and narrow; and in a corner was a little door,
through which he must have crept in, and which served
now to thrust in his food. It was from the depth of ii;;>;
dungeon, and the effort he had to make in clinging by his
fingers in order to raise his mouth to the orifice in the
stair, that the utterance of that abrupt sentence, "La ne-
gresse est elle sortie," had such an extraordinary effect.
But this was not the only miserable being of my spe-
cies, of whose sufferings I was forced to partake. There
was under the corridor another inferno, into which the de-
scent was by a trap-door, over which I had often walked
without perceiving it. This dungeon was damp and dark,
and so foul, that when the trap-door was opened twice
in the day to give provisions to the wretch that inhabited
it, the whole surrounding space was infected with a pesti-
lential smell for a length of time, and yet the entire opera-
tion of opening and shutting, did not last more than half
a minute; nothing further taking place on the occasion
than the handing down one little earthen dish and receiv-
ing another, which was given up by the prisoner. But lest
any thing should interrupt the fearful seclusion of tfeia
144 .MEMOIRS OF
mortal from the rest of bis species, or that any means
should be conveyed to lrim of quitting an existence so ter-
rible, his meal was regularly and diligently searched each
day before his trap-door was opened; and even his bread
>rn asunder for fear of some concealment. It would be
too tedious to detail the histories of my other fellow-prison-
ers. Those most immediately my neighbors, whose door
gave into the corridor, were a Corsican smuggler, and a
soldier imprisoned for stabbing with a knife.
The predecessor of the negress had been an American
captain, called William Atkinson, from Philadelpliia. His
name was written with a pencil on the wall. He had been
a length of time in secret, on account of a barrel of gun-
powder which he had been charged with purchasing undu-
ly, as belonging to the stores. At length, when he had no
more money, the gaoler enquired of the minister who sent
him there? what was to be done with him? and the minis-
ter, not recollecting Ins name, so totally had he been for-
gotten, he was let out.
The gentleman who came oil the same night with me.,
and with whom I had conversed only by stealth, through
the Saw in his door, was a Mr. Rivet, of Nantes, formerly
consul-general of the Portuguese in France. It was not
until a day or two before our departure, that we were per-
mitted to see each other. But I found afterwards great
resources in the company of this new fellow-sufferer, who
was, for what reason I know not, to be sent on board the
same vessel which was to transport me against my will to
France.
Willi AM SAMPSON, H5
LETTER XXII.
ICid-napped — Transported — Our Mieus — State affairs-
Protest
AT length, after a series of abominations, which
had now lasted six weeks, I was called upon suddenly one
morning, by an ecrivan, a man of authority, to prepare
for an immediate departure, and was scarcely allowed
time to thrust my clothes into my trunks. In vain I de-
manded where I was going. I was desired to pay ten
moidores for my passage: I forget whether any thing more,
or how much, for my servant: but I recollect that the gov-
ernment paper money which remained in my hands, and
which I had been obliged to take at par, was discounted at
fifteen per cent. Small considerations these, it is true, in
any other circumstances, but serious seeing the position X
was in. As certainly, had I yielded to much extortion in
the beginning and my little stock been sooner exhausted, ]
should have been destitute beyond measure, and perhaps
have perished in that double-doored vault where I was first
plunged, and from which it required money to redeem me.
I now remonstrated that I had very little remaining;
and that if I went to a strange country as a prisoner,
where I might have neither credit nor connexions, I must
necessarily be exposed to great distress: and I begged at
least to be informed where I was going, and to be allowed
to make some arrangements. The officer replied in a per-
emptory and insulting strain, that if I had no money,
T
140 MEMOIRS OF
none would be taken from me, but that my trunks and my
person should be searched. This necessarily produced
some warmth on my part. And transported and trem-
bling with rage, and perhaps fear (for he often repeated
that he was not afraid of me) he called upon his followers
who, I believe, were twenty in number, to tie me: bow-
ever, this as on tbc former occasion was not put in execu-
tion, and the whole scene ended in courtesy and com-
plaisance.
The Danish vice-consul attended below, with a captain
of his nation, to see the passage money paid. But nei-
ther of them would inform me where we were to go. Mr.
Rivet and his servant were in like manner treated, and we
were all four taken out by a gate which led to the place
of embarkation, It was through this gate that I had often
observed files of convicts to be taken, who had been pre-
viously secured, each by an iron ring about his neck, and
by this ring to an iron bar which held them altogether in
a row. I was glad that we had no such shackles, as we
should have thereby lost the opportunity of saluting our
young ladies as we passed. They were looking on, as I
hope, with eyes of tender compassion from their window,
where they were placed together with their father and the
elderly lady, their mother or govcrnante, all of whom re-
turned our salute politely. And I thought that the fair
person, to whose compassion I laid claim, seemed touched
with the hardships of my case. I had found means, be-i
fore I left the prison, to learn a little of her history. She
was by birth a Spaniard. Her father a gentleman of the
court, being a volante or running footman to the prince of
Brazil. She herself had passed some heavy hours in the
melancholy spot from which I addressed my prayers to
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 147
Wi\ Her lover being ordered to the East, she determin-
ed to share his fortunes, and to that end put on the garb of
a sailor, in which disguise she fell into the hands of the
police, and refusing to discover herself, was shut up in
the identical cell which was afterwards allotted me, and
had learned a lesson of pity in an excellent school.
"We were now put on board a royal gilded barge with
the speed of twenty oars. We had the consolation of
another salute from our fair spectators as we passed their
windows, which overlooked the water: but from that day
to this, having heard or seen nothing further from them, 1
endeavor to flatter myself with the hope that they arc both
happily married and settled in the world. Whilst I may
have yet many years and many leagues to wander; and
other countries, in all human probability, yet to visit.
I waited with patience to see what was to be done with
me, and Was soon put on board a certain little Banish dog-
ger called the Dtjc-Hoffning, which I understood to mean
the Hope, a fair sounding name, but alas, a deceitful one,
as you shall presently acknowledge. The pilot was en
board, the sails were full, the anchor weighed. In the
barge with us had been sent, by whose care or whose
bounty I could not learn* a provision of wine, fowls,
onions and other articles, amply sufficient for a short
voyage, but very inadequate to that long and cruel ara -
tion which we were destined to undergo.
The officer, of whom I have before spoken, and who
cbnducted us on board, before his quitting us, and imme-
diately before our sailing, put into the hands of Mr. Rivet
and me separate passports for the port of Hamburg,
where we were told that we were now to go; and to the
vaptain. he1 delivered, as had been stipulated, several ccrti-
148 MEMOtUS oi
ficates; one from the English consul, one from the Danish
consul, and for more authority endorsed by the ambassas-
dor of Denmark. There was another from Mr. Lafargue,
the agent for French prisoners in Portugal; all evidently
for the same purpose of securing the captain against sei-
zure by armed vessels of all nations. The only one of
these certificates, which mentioned me solely, was that of
Mr. Lafargue, whilst that of Mr. Crispin mentioned only
Mr. Rivet, each covering with his protection the prisoner
of the opposite nation. For this piece respecting me,
which I insisted upon having from the captain on landing,
(See Appendix JVo. XII. J The Danish consul and am-
bassador certified for five persons put on board for reasons
of state, and who had no charge on board of ship: perhaps
the unfortunate Mr. A might have been intended for
the fifth.
I had forgot to mention, that the ecrivan had insisted on
my signing a paper jointly with Mr. Rivet, that I should
not return to Portugal, on pain of perpetual imprisonment.
Mr. Rivet made no objection to sign this paper, which was
drawn up so as to be jointly signed by him and me. He has,
nevertheless, I understand, since exercised the office of
Portuguese consul at Nantes, and is now as a commercial
agent from France in Lisbon. But my case was very dif-
ferent. I had no government to protect me: on the contra-
ry, the minister, whose duty it was to do so, seemed to
spare no means, however shameful, to destroy me. I had
no law to appeal to. For in my person all laws had al-
ready been outraged. My enemies were in power, and
certainly had not enough of magnanimity to forgive the ex-
posure of their crimes; and after the perfidies I had expe-
rienced, I had little reason to confide in any body. I
WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 149
might be put back into Portugal, as I was so often into
Dublin, and this paper be used as a pretext better than
any yet found, for the eternal privation of my liberty*
Besides I had perceived an affectation of styling that gen-
tleman and me os duos amigos, (the two friends) at a time
when we had never seen each other; which displeased me.
I refused therefore to subscribe to sucli conditions: but at
the request of the officer, and for his justification, gave my
reasons in writing at the foot of his paper. 1st. That I
had been obliged, in consequence of an agreement with the
government of my country, to sign an obligation to come
to Portugal and remain there during the war, and that
therefore I could not now subscribe to terms directly con-
trary. 2dly. That this paper was made jointly with a
gentleman of a different nation, whom I had not advan-
tage of knowing, and whose case from the circumstances
could have nothing in common with mine. 3dly. That
not seeing what profit I could reap from it, or with what
motive it was proposed to me, I should decline it for that
reason alone, as I could not presume it was intended to
befriend me. Now let us take leave of this inhospitable
and degraded land; and that you may have courage to
accompany me through a long and painful suffering on the
seas,, I shall leave you for awhile to your repose.
1:<J MEMOIRS ofc
LETTER XXIII.
Voyage — Discovery — French Privateer — English Frigate-
Dangers — Difficulties — Distresses — Landing in Spain.
IT wa£ now the beginning of May, 1799, when
I put to sea in the Die-IIoffning, having still in my
possession the passports of those ministers who professed
to shed blood for the delivery of Europe and the restoration
<f religion and law. No case need be stronger than mine
to shew how much their actions agreed with their profes-
sions, and how much had their views succeeded there
would have remained of religion, liberty and laAv. Be-
:brc I crossed the bar I entered into conversation with the
pilot, who seemed not to understand some questions I put
to him touching the destination of the ship. This creating
some suspicion, I was proceeding to press him for an ex-
planation, when the captain interposed, and told me in a
tone of confidence, to say nothing more; and that when
we were once at sea and the pilot gone, he would tell me
something that would be agreeable to me. But the mo-
tion of the vessel on crossing the bar produced an effect
which curiosity could not counteract. I went to my bed
over-powered with sickness, and remained in a state of
stupor for three days, insensible to all occurrences; at the
end of which time Mr. Rivet informed me, that he had
discovered from the avowal of the captain and a view of
the ship's papers, that we were bound and regularly
cleared out for Bordeaux.
WUXI.Ui SAMPSON. 15}
Now although a voyage to France had for mc nothing
terrible, in comparison with what I had suffered; yet inas-
much as it made a difficulty the more between me and my
family, and that the consequence in many ways could iigt
be calculated, I was much shocked at the discovery. 3Vfr.
Rivet did all he could to encourage and divert me from rj a
unpleasant view my situation afforded, and in this r.s in
©very other stage of my persecution, I endeavored to
strengthen myself with fortitude and patience and to make
the best of my position.
But whatever might be my disposition to bear cheerfully
the ills and wrongs I had to sustain, every thing* even the
elements, seemed to conspire to second the malice of my
enemies and to make my situation intolerable. For six
tedious weeks was I tossed about in this little vessel, in the
performance of a voyage which might well have been per-
formed in as many days. We sometimes approached the
coast; and sometimes stood across the ocean, as they term-
ed it, looking for a "wind. The course of the vessel, when
traced upon a map, was a matter of real curiosity: and 'I
had the, satisfaction of finding, at the end of three weeks
of sickness and pain, that we were further off* by much
from our destined port than when we started. "We often
requested the captain to put us somewhere on shore on the
Portuguese or Spanish coast; and he as often positively
refused. He seemed indeed to suffer as much as we, and
on some occasions to have nearly lost his senses with vex-
ation. He was in his own nature good; but he had been
terror-struck and agitated in Lisbon, where he had been
one day taken off* the Change before the minister, ami
threatened with a gaol if he murmured against taking
certain prisoners who should be sent on board of him.
153 MEMOIRS OF
No explanation was given to him who those prisoners
voir: and thus this poor honest seaman found himself
suddenly involved in some conspiracy of state, and
charged with papers and certificates of which he under-
stood not a word, and with prisoners for his passengers
of whom he must have formed strange notions. His imag-
ination had hecn prc-disposed to gloomy presages by
various contrarieties. He had had a very tedious passage
from Malaga to Lisbon. At Lisbon he was detained after
he was clear to sail, and all his port charges paid for pris-
oners of state. During this time his cable, which was
ashore, was cut and stolen away with the anchor. Added
to all, the tediousness of his passage that was to deprive
him of the summer fishery in the North, and consequently
of his greatest benefice, I may say of his bread, you may
suppose how abundantly this poor industrious man, whose
dogger was the world to him, must have been tormented.
The mystery and incomprehensibility of what he was
himself engaged in, grew every day into more dark sus-
picion; and his temper became at length very peevish.
He did not speak French, and English very imperfectly.
And as after the two or three first weeks I had found all
expostulation with him in vain, I left him to Mr. Rivet.
This gentleman, who possessed a good deal of informa-
tion, had learned English, but rather from books than
practice. And though he understood it upon principle, he
spoke it with difficulty: so that nothing could be more ex-
traordinary to an English ear than the conferences he and
the captain used to hold in the cabin by way of explana-
tion, which I overheard as I sat upon the deck. Some-
times the captain used to express great concern for us, and
to sympathise in our fate. At other times he insinuated
WIULIA.M SAMPSON. 153
that we were the cause of his misfortunes and even of the
foul wind. And lie added that once before he had had a
similar passage., and that the wind never became favorable
until a man died; a doctrine that became a little irksome,
particularly when the provisions grew scarce, and the
sailors seemed to have adopted it. He often looked me
pitifully in the face, and exclaimed that I might guillotine
him if I chose; but that he was not like some other cap-
tains who had taken away prisoners from Portugal, of
whom nothing had been heard since. He often repeated
this, I do not say with what view, but he seemed to take
some credit to himself for the safety of our lives, as if we
owed it to his forbearance or humanity.
I as often assured him that I had neither the power nop
the disposition to guillotine him. That on the contrary I
would do him any sen ice in my power, provided he would
put an end to all our misery, by setting us on shore, I al-
lowed that the compulsion used to him in Portugal, and the
fear he was in of a despotic authority, was excuse enough
to me for his taking us on board: but that his continuing to
carry us such a length of time against our will backwards
and forwards over the seas, whilst my health was such as
he saw it, was little short of an act of piracy, which noth-
ing could excuse. That he himself knew how nearly the
provisions were exhausted, and t]iat even the water would
soon be finished. But he never would hear of this propo-
sal with patience, and persisted that we should all go to-
gether to Bordeaux, where every thing would end happily;
so that sometimes I flattered myself, that he had some s.e-
cret of that nature, and that he intended us some agreeable
surprise: for it was hard to believe that so many ostensible
persons should join in a diplomatic project winch had no
V
1^4 MEMOIRS or
other end in view, or could have no other issue or resnft,
than the mean and stupid persecution of an individual, such
as me.
Meantime the provisions were drawing to a close. Wc
had no longer any thing to live upon hut hard rye hiscuits
and had water, with hrandy and raw sugar, very little
*alt lish and salt meat; and that little but for a few days
more. This diet, together with the vexation I experienc-
ed, was nearly fatal to me, as the pain in my chest became
intolerably severe. I renewed my entreaties to the cap-
tain, to stand in for the land; where wc might hope to
make some part of the Spanish coast. The more I entreat-
ed, the more perverse he grew. He had before refused to
put us on shore in Portugal, lest we should all be imprison-
ed for life. He now refused to approach the Spanish coast.
For he said, that if the wind should be on shore, he would
be blown upon the rocks: if it was off the shore, he could
not make the land: if there was little or no wind, the cur-
rent would run away with him. But he went sometimes
so far as to offer mo the command of the ship, provided I
would secure him the payment of it. I told him I was not
rich enough to buy his dogger, but that if he would stand in
near the shore, and let me have one of his boats, I would
pay him for it the price he should ask, and my servant and
I should go on shore; by wMch means the provisions
would last so much longer for the rest. This also he
refused; and when every other reason was exhausted, he
persisted that he could not go into Spain without perform-
ing quarantine. It was in vain we assured him, that the
Spaniards exacted no such thing on the coasts of the
ocean. It had happened to him once in a Spanish port
WILLIAM SAMrsOST. 15o
iu the Mediterranean, and he conceived or pretended to
think, that we were misleading him..
Such evils were not of a nature to decrease with time, and
our captain became every day more disturbed. Before, he
had been sober and abstemious; but latterly resorted fre-
quently for consolation to the brandy bottle. He often
started in his bed, and talked through his sleep; and at the
same time became most fervently devout. Twice a day
he took his little ship's company down into the forecastle
or steerage, to siug hymns for a fair wind. But it was
all to no purpose. Once only we had a propitious mo-
ment. The wind blew fair; the yards Mere squared, and
the steering sails were set. The steersman, who had hith-
erto been of an unalterable gravity, went down for his
mandoline, and the captain danced to his music. I shall
give no other praise to these performers than to say, that
none ever gave me greater pleasure. Every body was
happy, bustling and gay. The breeze seemed sent from
heaven for our relief, and there appeared a kind of exult-
ing consciousness, that the hymns had not been sung in
vain. There was no longer any need that a man should
die to appease an angry Providences I too put in my
claim to merit; lor though I had not joined in the hymns,
I had generally steered the vessel, that all the hands
might. The remaining fowl was now ordered to be killed,
and the rigor of our allowance was relaxed, and a smile
of hope and cheerfulness sat upon every countenance.
But how great is the uncertainty of sublunary events. In
less than an hour all grew black again. The wind blew
again as formerly. By little and little the sails were un-
willingly trimmed. The steering sails were again lower-
ed in sullen silence. The mandoline disappeared, and I
156 MEM6IKS ■ »
need not say, the dancing ceased also. There was no
more smile, no more joke nor play. In short, for the
length of that day, no man ventured to look another into
the face, much less to speak to him.
It was wMle things were growing towards the worst,
that we were boarded by a French privateer brig, called
the Yenus, from Nantes. The captain, on board of whom
we were carried, finding us in role, and having some
knowledge of Mr. Rivet, who was from the same town;
apologized very civilly for the trouble and delay he had
given us, and made us a present of some articles of pro-
vision. And after he had left us, and was almost out of
Bight, he returned to offer us a passage on shore, as in a
few days his cruise would be out, and he would then stand
in for a Spanish port.
This was a tempting offer; but I, for obvious reasons,
refused it; and rightly, for a few days after we were
boarded by the Flora frigate who had captured this iden-
tical privateer. And had I oeeh found on board of her, it
might have supplied a pretext, which neither the torture of
my servant nor the seizure of my papers had yet afforded.
And my enemies would not then have been forced to resort
to that scandalous falsehood, that I had corrupted the
people in a fishing town in Wales.
At length, not having wherewithal to support life anoth-
*ef day, we with difficulty entered the port of St. Sebastian,
"WILLIAM SAMPSOK-* 1 5f
LETTER XXIY.
-Again threatened with Jlrrestation — Remonstrance — Munici-
pality of Bayonnc arrete motive — Arrival in France.
HERE I applied to Bon Louis Blondel de Drouhof>
the commandant, or captain-general, for a passport to
proceed by land to my destination; where I certainly did
Hope to learn at least the cause of such extraordinary
i treatment, And I was now very willing that the dogger
should make the rest of her passage without me. Don Louis
first threatened to arrest me as a subject of the king of
Great-Britain, then at war with his king. Nor could I
avail myself in this instance of the passports of tire duke
of Portland and the marquis Cornwallis. If they had not
served me in Portugal, still less could they do so here.
Yet I did produce them; for I was determined at all events
to deal with candor, and to oppose nothing to such com-
plicated vexation but simplicity and truth. I offered be-
sides the testimony of Mr. Rivet, that of the captain, and
onr servants, that we were sent away by force. I produced
also the passport of the minister of Portugal, then in strict
alliance with Spain; and also the certificates of the English
i consul, the Danish ambassador and consul, the French
minister in Portugal, and other proofs, all shewing beyond
doubt, that I was sent for reasons of state from Lisbon to
Bordeaux. And since this was apparently done by the
concurrence of so many ministers, it was to be presumed
it was for some good or great purpose, though I protested
MEMOIRS OF
i. knew not what those reasons could be: but merely hoped
that the principles of civilization were not yet so lost in
Europe, that an individual could be seized upon as if by
pirates, and transported by them from place to place, by
sea and by land, from dungeon to dungeon, without some
: ppunt finally to be rendered of such proceedings. At
.Bordeaux alone I stated I could expect to have that satis-
faction, and there I looked for it confidently; as I was
sure the diplomatic agents of so many kings would not
deliberately join to prostrate those law's* and openly vio-
late without motive those received notions of natural righ
rind justice, by which their right to govern, and theii
titles to their thrones, were alone secured. I moreovei
stated what I had already suffered on board of this shipj
what the state of my health was: and I prevailed finally
to obtain a passport to follow7 my destination as far as the
frontiers of France, where I might explain myself, as I
best could, with the authorities of that country.
With this passport I arrived at Bayonne, where I ap-
:rcd before the municipality, and was desired to return,
the quicker the better, to the place I came from; for that
otherwise I should be put in prison. To this I replied
with warmth, that I had heard it proclaimed that France
was to be the terrc hospitaliere, where the persecuted were
to find a refuge. But if I, who had no other crime thai
the love of my country, of human liberty and justice, am
Who had not come into this land from any motive of curi-
osity or caprice, but by misfortune and necessity, whicl
gives a title to humanity in every country: if I was now to
be driven back into other Ihinds, where I might expect at
least a renewal of the wrongs I bad already suffered, it
might be said that hospitality ami justice were banisheNl
WIJAIAM SAMPSON*
iVom the earth. That I wanted nothing more than to go
to Bordeaux, where alone I could hope for some clue to mj
situation, or the acquaintance of some person of my own
country, hy whoso interest I might have the means o)
present existence; or when it should appear prudent, of
removing elsewhere. And ahovc all, some news of m>
family, touching whom I have heen so long and so cruelly
in pain.
The loyalty with which I uttered this disposed the as-
sembly in my favor. There were some also of the mem-
bers who had known something of me hy reading the
English papers; and if more were wanting, the prisoners
of war, who had been confined at the same time with me in
the castle of St. George, arrived at this instant; and Mr,
Rivet exerted himself with zeal.
I Mr. Bastereche, the commissary of the executive power,
who had at first spoken with so much sternness, now ex-
pressed his desire of serving me as far as his duty would
permit; and in the first instance I was allowed to remain
in Bavomic until he should write to the minister of the
police for his decision.
This was in the month of June, 1799, a critical moment
in France. The spirit of party was mounted to an extrav-
agant height, and a stranger had little chance for repose
in such a conflict. Bayonnc was a frontier town, and
guarded with jealousy. The remainder of the sum of one
hundred pounds, which I had received from Mr. Nash be-
Ifore my arrest, was nearly expended; and I in vain cast
my eyes round for a friend to apply to: for a stranger in
such a moment could expect nothing hut distrust.
No answer was to be expected from the minister of the
police, and it happened at this moment that a total revplu
k(A. MEMOIRS 0*
tion took place in that department I applied once mor^
to Mr. Bastereche, and he advised me to present a peti-
tion to the municipality, stating all the circumstances of
my case, and that they would deliberate, upon it. I there-.
fore drew up a very abridged statement of what I have
Bow stated to you; and ohserved at the same time, that
if I was capahlc of imposing on those whose protection I
claimed, I might avail myself of a multitude of publica-
tions in the governmental papers against me; and of pub-
lic records and acts of parliament. But as all those were
false and atrocious, I scorned to profit by them at the ex-
pense of truth, and would make no title but that of an op-
pressed individual; nor demand any other favor than the
permission to remain in peace, the greatest good for me
after my liberty.
Upon this petition the municipality deliberated, and con-
cluded by drawing up a decree, motived upon the utility
of encouraging such strangers as were victims of t.he des-
potism of their enemies, and recommending me as a per-
son well known in the annals of my country. (See Appen-
dix JVo. XIII. J
Had my views been ambitious, nothing could be more
flattering; but my determination was, not to meddle with
the concerns of government, nor to be surprised into any
step for which I was not prepared. No motive has ever
since appeared strong enough to tempt me from this re-
serve; and I am now as little connected with France,
save in gratitude for the asylum it has afforded me, as on
the day I first set my foot upon its soil.
I at first objected to this arrete motive, as giving me a
character which it was not my desire to avail myself of..
But it was replied to me, that the municipality, in its de«.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. l6l
.sire to serve me, had gone a great length, and that the
motives stated were the only ones upon which the mem-
bers could justify themselves to their government. That.
I was not forced to accept of it; hut that if I did not
think proper so to do, I must wait the answer of the
minister, of which they could not take upon themselves to
say any thing: whereas this arretc was intended to short-
en the delays, by sending me directly before the minister,
who alone was competent to decide upon my case.
This instrument was to serve me, as you see, for a
passport; and I was bound by it to take the road of
Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitiers, Tours and Orleans, and
to present myself before the municipality in each of those
. towns as I passed. Fearing to be reduced to want, I had no
other part to take, and I made use of it accordingly to go
• as far as Bordeaux, where I without much difficulty obtain-
. ^.d leave to remain, and thereupon struck out my signature.
LETTER XXV.
Bordeaux — Bureau Central — Reflections on Party -Spirit—*
New Embarrassments — Mr. Forster— -Special Letter of
Exchange— My Protest — Its Effect.
AS I held firmly to my design of steering clear
of every interference or declaration that could affect my
own independence, I could tile less complain of the rigor-
ous scrutiny to which I was exposed. I Avas summoned
several times before the Bureau central, and interrogated
w
16:2 MJEMOIRS OF
strictly; as was my servant and Mr. Rivet, and also the
< aptain upon his arrival from St. Sebastian. You will find
in the appendix a copy of those interrogatories which I
afterwards made interest to obtain. (See Appendix JVo.
XI V.J You will perceive by them in how difficult a situ-
ation I was placed, and judge whether my persecutors,
had they been in my place, would have acted so truly or
so honorablv.
It may at some future day be thought worthy of enquiry
why I was thus piratically sent to Bordeaux: but had
those events which some so confidently expected at that
crisis, taken place, my destruction might have easily been
effected: for in such angry moments accusation may be
heard, but not defence. Be it as it may, my way [was
here again strewed with thorns, and bigotry and igno-
rance envenomed against me. There is every where un-
fortunately, a class to be met with of human beings
leaning naturally to the side of power, however depraved
or atrocious; and ever ready to enlist under the banners
of oppression, and to join in cry of malice. With such
I could naturally hold no friendship, nor look for any
iustice, much less for benevolence. With them the name
of honor and the love of their fellow-creatures is a jest:
and never having felt the impulse of any generous feeling,
they readily believe that there is no such thing. But I
have had the mortification, here as in other places during
the course of my persecution, of meeting with persons nat-
urally good, and such as I could have wished to esteem,
worked up by deceit and calumny to a pitch of uncharita-
bleness not very distinguishable from the most odious vice.
And this is the most lamentable of all the effects of party-
spirit. Thus I, who certainly could boast of as fair titles
WIIXIAM SAMPS0X. 163
as ever man could, to the benevolence of my species, in
every part of the world, found myself hunted by a kind of
dumb persecution, for no other reason on earth than be-
cause I had already been the victim of my own generosity,
and the perfidy of my enemies.
Instead of finding any elucidation of my new position.
I was here more in the dark than ever: nor did I know
to whom to apply for aid. For chasing to be of no party,
I had claims on none. The merchants of my own coun-
try, who carried on their commerce by connivance, were
afraid to serve me for fear of mischief to themselves, I
early applied to one of them most noted for liberality, and
he refused to have any thing to do with my signature, but
offered to lend me a small sum of money, which I refused
upon such terms. It is fair to say that I had thought it
just to apprize him of that diabolical act of parliament,
which made it felony to correspond with me. This I con-
ceived it but candid to do: and it had alarmed him proba-
bly for his friends who resided in Ireland, and were under
the scourge of the laws made by that ever memorable par-
liament. I confessed to him also that my servant had
been tortured with impunity; and it is not to be wondered
at that he should fear, after such information, to do an act
which otherwise among civilized beings was but a thing of
course.
I was one morning sitting up in my bed, ruminating on
this disagreeable subject, when it came into my recollec-
tion that there was here a house of commerce, of which
the principal was a Mr. Forster, whose son I had known
in Oporto; and whom I knew to be the correspondent of
several of my friends in the North of Ireland, as well as
of Mr. Skeys who, with the privity of the Irish govern-
i04 MEMOIRS OF
nient, had given me letters of recommendation and credit
in Portugal. I rose and went to his house, and introduced
myself under these titles. I briefly and frankly exposed
my situation to him. I found him at first not divested of
the common prejudices; but I cut short his animadver-
sions by shewing him all my passports and some letters
of his correspondents. I then asked him if he would give
me the sum of money I should have need of upon my bill?
to which he consented.
The usual manner of drawing upon my country during
the war, was under a fictitious date. With this form I
did not chuse to comply: but for the safety of all con-
cerned, I drew upon the same Mr. Skeys for the sum of
fifty pounds, dating my draft Bordeaux: and under my
signature I wrote, in nature of protest, that I had been
sent there from Lisbon against my written and verbal pro-
testation to the contrary: and that I was now in nature of
a prisoner on parole, under the surveillance of the police.
And indeed, so true was this fact, that for eighteen months
that I inhabited Bordeaux and its neighborhood, I was
constantly held by my passport to present myself every
tea days before the municipality*. I am at the same time
far from complaining of that circumstance. I see nothing
but justice in it, as my claim went no further than to the
hospitality due, even in time of war, to a persecuted
stranger.
Although the service I received from Mr. Forster,
namely, the discounting my bill, does not seem very im-
portant: yet considering the refinement of my persecu-
tion, and the unabating rancor, of which you will see
more towards the conclusion of this narrative, I have rea-
son to be very grateful for it. But such was the effect
WILXIAM SAMPSON. 10.5
of terror, such the .abuse of power towards me, that had
not this very respectable gentleman done me this goad of.
fice, I have reason to think I should not at that juncture
have found so much liberality elsewhere. Another act of
kindness no less important was added to the obligation,
that of forwarding to my family some account of my exist-
ence, and apprising the government in my name, which he
undertook to do, of what had past.
I wrote besides to Mr. Skcys, upon whom I had drawn.,
a letter of advice, in which I requested him to reimburse
himself by drawing upon my brother-in-law in Belfast.:
and I left the protest to work its own effect. I also wrote
to Mr. Dobbs, to apprise him of the atrocities committed
against me;, and entreated him, not merely as my kins?
man, but as one who had borne an active part in the mel-
ancholy negotiation abovementioned, to go to the castle
and relate what had passed; and to say, that if any step
was taken to molest me further, or to injure my securities*
that I should then be obliged of necessity to vindicate my-
self by showers of proofs which might not be agreeable.
Mr. Dobbs went accordingly to Mr. Cooke, who told him
that if the representation I made was true, my bail had
nothing to fear, and his advice to me was, to remain quiets
ly where I was, without taking any further steps.
It was in the latter end of July, that Mr. Forster sailed
for Guernsey, from whence he was to proceed to England.
And I finding the party spirit encreasing in the town of
Bordeaux, and considering it my first duty to avoid enter-
ing in any manner into the affairs of a country where I was
enjoying, by a special exception in my favor, protection
and hospitality: and being also desirous of an economical
retreat, I retired to the banks of the Dordogne, in thej
106
MiiMOIRS 01
neighbourhood of St. Andre Cusac, where I spent the re-
mainder of the summer. And so well had I calculated
what was about to happen, that the very day after my quit-
ting Bordeaux, a movement took place which cost some
Hves, but which had no other result. It was during my
residence in this retired spot, that I had the misfor-
tune to loose mv faithful servant, John Russell, who
died of a fever, and was buried in the church-yard of
St. Gervais, bearing upon his body to the grave, the marks
of the torture he had undergone.
The death of this faithful friend, for so I must now call
him, was indeed a poignant affliction. With a heart big
with anguish, and eyes wet with unfeigned tears, I exam-
ined his dead body and contemplated the scars which the
lash of his atrocious executioners had inflicted. His gal-
lant and generous spirit was fled to the mansions of eter-
nal rest! He was gone to appear before that Judge, in
whose sight, servant and master, lord and peasant, stand
in equal degree. If it he the will of that Righteous and
Eternal Judge to confront the guilty with the innocent,
what must be the wretchedness, what the atonement of
those vicious men? In the whole course of his services, I
had never once opened my mouth to him upon any subject
of political concern; and the unvaried and voluntary re-
spect he bore towards me, was a law which he had never
once transgressed. He was as gentle as he w;as brave;
and the most respectable inhabitants of the commune
where he died, did not refuse to his memory the tribute of
a tear. It wras not for many days after, that mine ceased
to flow: and when again on examining his effects, I per-
ceived in one of his frocks the hole through which the
cartridge of the Orangeman in Abbey-street had pierced,
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 167
that additional token of his magnanimity revived those
emotions of grief and sorrow, wliich my own personal
sufferings had never been able to extort.
LETTER XXVI.
Mrs. Sampson — Correspondence — Mr. Merry.
AT length, in the month of December, for the
first time, after a year's incertitude and silence, I receiv-
ed a letter from my wife, which brought me some conso-
lation. She and her children were in good health. My
bill had been paid, and this was an essential circumstance;
as Mr. Forster had left no instructions to those who were
charged in his absence with the business of his house, to
advance me any further supply; and want again began to
stare me in the face.
Mr. Dubourdieu, my brother-in-law, had, upon hearing
of my arrest in Portugal, written to the late marquis of
Downshire, entreating him to apply to the duke of Port-
land for redress, which he did and received a written an-
swer, which he transmitted to my brother-in-law, that the
duke of Portland, on account of the improper conduct and
language of Mr. Sampson in Wales, could not interfere
in his behalf! My sister also wrote to Mr. Wickam,
who promised to lay her letter before the duke of Portland,
but could hold out no hopes of success after the represent
ations already made on the subject. And my wife like
wise wrote to this latter gentleman, but received no an-
'■GS MEMOIRS 0*
g '.vol*, and enclosed a letter with a request to have it for
warded to mc, which it never was.
My sister also applied to lord Castlereagh, through one
of the ladies of his family, but with no better effect: for
answered, that I was accused of attempting to corrupt
(She minds of some people in a fishing town in Wales,
v. here I was wrecked. If there be facts in nature which
are beyond all comment, or which stand in need of none,
these arc they. When it is considered that I was at this
iime to pass through the secret dungeons of the inquisition,
from which the issue is not easy; when it is considered
that I had, through reliance on the good faith of the gov-
ernment, of the king, lords and commons of Ireland, de-
livered myself up into their hands; that I had, for my en-
tire protection and guarantee, the passports of those very
ministers, who were in every sense bound to be my pro*
lectors, if any tie of honor, or any notion of those princi-
ples upon which society can alone be supported, and
which are sacred even among barbarians, remained; then
let mc ask upon what ground the English government
now stands? or what it is that secures the liberty, the prop-
erty, or the person of any individual? Why shall not
what has been practised against me be practised against
Others? Before I condescended to make any agreement I
was locked up in solitude for many months, in vain de-
manding a trial. My servant had been tortured in vain
to extort an accusation against me. And when I, relying
upon lord Cornwallis, consented to terms from motives too
pure to be discussed with such men, those terms had been
most basely and most falsely violated. At first I was sus-
pected of treasonable practices, because I would have re-
sisted murder and torture: for I defy any man to name any
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 169
other treason I have committed. And again, I was ac-
cused of corrupting the people of a country where my
misfortunes and a cruel persecution had driven me, and
where I never had any communication that could give the
slightest sanction to such a charge. The day may come,
when the measure of these crimes may be full and run
over. My character has triumphed over every attack.
Alas, what would my enemies appear, were they put to
their defence! Perhaps that moment when oppressed and
insulted humanity may recalcitrate, is not far off: until
then the enemies of England may triumph in her abject
state. It is every thing that her enemies can wish; and
they need by no means despair to see the same manacles,
the same bloody whips and instruments of torture, the
use of which has been indemnified in Ireland, used also
and indemnified in England. Oh fallen Englishmen!
when you could bear to hear of indemnified torture in Ire-
land, you were from that moment prepared for the yoke
yourselves. The bulwarks of your liberty, generosity and
honesty, were gone. It was but a small step to make; and
torture, it will be argued, is not an unfit regimen for
ihosc who can consent to the torture of their fellow-men,
But let me return from this unprofitable digression, and
hasten to conclude a story too pregnant with disagreeable
conclusions.
My wife, after a great length of time, wrote to the duke
of Portland a letter, which it is right I should transcribe.
It will be for him whose heart is not lost to virtue, and
whose best feelings are not drowned in the habitual profli-
gacy of the times, to appreciate her sorrows, and my
wrongs.
170 MEMOIRS OF
To his Grace the Duke of Portland, $c. SfC. $c. ,
My Lord Duke,
The .situation of my husband and children urge
jne, though obscure and unknown, to encroach a moment
on your Grace's patience; and misfortune and misery are
the only apologies I have to offer for this intrusion. In
October 1798, lord Cornwallis permitted Mr. Sampson to
leave the Irish prison, where he was detained six months
without an accusation or trial, and sailed for Lisbon, his
health being greatly impaired. This was intended for an
indulgence; and no other of the prisoners having been
treated in the same manner, we were considered to be ve-
ry much favored. But he was soon after arrested at 0-
porto; the cause of which we have never yet been able to
discover. And after being long and rigorously imprison-
ed, he was sent by force from Lisbon, and landed at Bor-
deaux, where he was detained as being a British subject,
travelling with your grace's passport. But supposing he were
permitted by the French to return, the nature of his sure-
tics, on leaving Dublin, prevent his returning to Ireland
without permission from the English government. When
he was imprisoned, and afterwards compelled to leave
Portugal, and sent forceably to Bordeaux, Mr. Walpolc
was ambassador at Lisbon; and I should hope that, by
referring to him, your grace might hear the truth; a\-
though he may not have known all that my husband
suffered.
Could I hope, that moved by compassion towards me
and my little helpless children, you would restore him to
his liberty and family; or if this be at present too great a
favor to expect, may I hope that your grace would permit
WILLIAM SAMI*SON. 171
ihe enclosed letter to be sent to Mr. Sampson, through the
medium of your office, to the agent for British prisoners
in France? and to allow me to receive his answers? Even
this would confer an everlasting obligation on your grace's
Most obedient
Humble servant,
Grace Sampson*
Belfast, March 10, 1800.
To this letter the following answer was returned.
Madam,
I am directed by the duke of Portland to
acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 10th instant,
enclosing one for Mr. Sampson, which his grace has for-
warded to the commissioners of the transport service
here, in order that it may be forwarded to France. I am
also to acquaint you, that his grace has no objection to
your corresponding with Mr. Sampson: but that it will be
necessary for you to send all your letters unsealed to him
for this office.
J am, Madam,
Four most obedient humble servant,
J. King,
Now here was a very gracious concession made to the
tears and prayers of my unfortunate wife. That I should
femain where I was cent by force, and where I must stay
in fact: as without volunteering in search of new dun-
geons, of want, and eternal separation, I could not stir.
For time has proved, that had I gone to almost any coun-
try in Europe, except Turkey, or Portugal where I came
from, I should have very soon found myself in a country
- - ME^OIKS Of
at war with the king of En Hand, whose arms were vet
rod with the blood shod for those thrones which they were
HOW to bombard, and for the deliverance of that Europe
with which his ministers are now at war.
I was also allowed to correspond with my wife hy un-
healed letters, sent to the secretary of state's office, to be
read. Certainly this was more agreeable than to have my
letters basely intercepted, in order that to my own suf-
ferings, the tortured feelings of an innocent wife and
mother might be added. But let me ask in what part of
my agreement with lord Cornwallis will it be found, that
I was to be thus cut off from a country to which I have
been so true, that I have no other enemies than its ene-
mies? Upon what ground was it that a man who h?.d
committed no crime, should be treated like an outcast, and
that the pains of felony should light upon a virtuous wife
for holding correspondence with him? Let me not pursue
this further; justice may one day return; until then com-
plaint is idle. Suffice it for the present to say, that Mrs.
Sampson was so charmed with this mitigation of her tor-
ment and the atrocities practised against me, that she re-
turned an answer overflowing with gratitude, and I my-
self was well pleased that there was somewhere to be
found a term to the extent of persecution. But the worst
was vet to follow.
It was natural now, that since I could not go to my fam-
ily, for that had been positively forbidden, they should
at least be permitted to come to me. That religion, for
which the earth has been so amply drenched in human
gore, has it for a precept, "Y»Tiom God has put together,
let no man put asunder." There wanted but this sacrilege
rn nil the measure of my wrongs. And on the 27th of
WILLIAM SAMPSON. *"••>
July, Mrs. Sampson wrote to the duke of Portland in these
words:
My Lord,
Having been indulged by your grace
in a manner that has excited a very lively sense of grati-
tude, with the permission of corresponding with Mr.
Sampson, I am emboldened to make a second application,
which I hope your grace will pardon, in consideration
that I have been separated two years and an half from my
husband, except a few weeks that I was permitted to be
with him in prison. What I have now to trouble your
grace for, is leave to pass with my children, and a female
s. want, to Bordeaux. And if this indulgence be attain-
able, I hope your grace will furnish me with passports,
which will enable me to sail in a neutral vessel: or if that
should not occur, and I could make it convenient to go to
Dover, should I be permitted a passage in a cartel ship to
Calais. I shall not trespass longer on your grace's time,
than to entreat, that if there be any thing improper in this
application, you will have the goodness to excuse it on ac-
count of my miserable situation, and allow me to remain
Your grace's
Much obliged,
And very humble servant,
Grace Sampson.
To the above, the following answer was received:
Madam,
I am directed by the duke of Portland,
*o acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 37th, re-
174 ME MOlli^ OF
questing permission to pass with your family over to Bor-
deaux.
I am to express to you his grace's regret, that the regu-
lations it has been found necessary to adopt in the present
moment, will not admit of his grace's compliance with
your wishes in this case.
/ am, Madam,
Your most obedient
Humble servant,
C. W. Fxint.
I leave it now to you, my friend, to imagine, if you can,
any thing more refined in persecution than this: and I
shall not insult you by making any further comment
upon it.
In the summer of 1806, the rumors of peace gained
ground, and I, with the advice of my friends, formed the
project of coming to Paris, where I might be on the spot
if any occasion should offer of claiming redress. This
hope proved vain, and I passed the winter in unprofitable
expectation, and part of it in sickness.
During the summer of the last year, whilst great arma-
ments were fitting out, and lord Nelson was bombarding
the port of Boulogne, I was on a visit at the country-seat of
a friend, and from thence went to the waters of Plombiere;
from whence I had the intention of proceeding to Switzer-
land. Captain Cotes had had the goodness to charge
himself with the care of forwarding my wife's letters to me
wherever I should desire to have them addressed. But a
change took place in England, which deprived me of that
advantage; and I returned in the month of August to Par-
is. The duke of Portland had in the meantime been suc-
ceeded by lord Pelham, and Mr. Cotes by Mr. Merry.
W11HAM SAMPSOJf. W3
As soon as I heard of Mr. Merry's arrival; I wrote to
request that he would do me the same kindness that Mr.
Cotes had promised. But between the date of my letter,
and that of his answer; there was the distance of a month:
and it was not until after my return to Paris, that I receiv-
ed his answer. As it is but short, I shall transcribe it,
a Monsieur
Monsieur milium Sampson, a PlomUerc.
Paris, August 15, 1800.
Sir,
I have to acknowledge the receipt of your
letter of the 16th ult. in answer to which I beg leave to ob-
serve, that captain Cotes did not mention any thing to me
relative to your correspondence: and I am sorry to add;
that it is not in my power to comply with your wishes on
that subject, without I receive an order for that purpose
from the British government.
I am, Sir,
Tour most obedient
Humble servant,
Ant. Merry.
I next waited upon Mr. Merry, who excused himself
from forwarding my letters, but offered to take charge of
any application I should wish to address to lord Pelhanu
to whom I wrote a long letter, stating all that had been
perpetrated against me; and protesting anew against the
injustice of being sent into an enemy's country, where I
assured him with truth, I had not at tins day nor never
had any other relation than the loyalty which every honest
man owes to any government whatsoever whilst under its
protection, and whilst it tenders him an asylum rather
171 MEMOIRS OF
than a prison: and I enclosed a letter to my wife filled
with little details which I intended to follow up by a jour-
nal of my projected tour through Switzerland. But my
letter was suppressed, and no answer returned to me,
which determined me to make no other appeal through that
channel.
In the above mentioned letter to my wife, I had, in
hopes of amusing her, mentioned amongst other little de-
tails, my having made the acquaintance of Madame Bona-
pnrte,\ and her daughter Mademoiselle Hortence.\ You
will, I am sure, upon reading these names, expect that I
should say something of their persons. You will be cu
rious to know what are the charms that can captivate that
spirit which no other power can restrain; and it is right
you should as far as in my power be satisfied.
As to Josephine, the freedom which reigns at such
watering places gave me daily opportunity of observing
her: and I was often of those rural excursions in which
she joined, and invited to the entertainments given in her
honor. Were I then to pronounce, I should ascribe her
ascendancy to the gentleness and flexibility of her disposi-
tion; to a graceful person, an elegant deportment, with an
habitual or constitutional desire of pleasing, polished by
the usage of the best society. These are indeed truly fem-
inine attributes, more winning, undoubtedly, than mascu-
line endowments of the understanding, which sometimes
excite to contention and encroach upon the natural graces
of the sex. Mademoiselle Hortence is also of an affable
character, adding the agreeable manners of her mother to
the gaiety natural to her years; insomuch that I have had
t Now Empress Josephine. t Now Queen of Holland-
WIXfcXAM SAMPSON. 17?
the honor of playing hot-cockles and draw-gloves with her;
I had obtained her permission to write to her on behalf of
a friend, whose occasions not requiring it, I no further
availed myself of it. This I almost regret, as I should
have been undoubtedly proud of such a correspondent.!
She possesses various accomplishments, rides well, dances
well, and designs well. She was then employed in finish-
ing a whole length portrait of the first consul. She also
spoke English: and as I lodged just opposite her balcony,
we often talked across the street in my vernacular tongue.
Madame Bonaparte, the mother, is a fine person un-
doubtedly for her years; a sensible Italian physiognomy,
fresh, alert and vigorous. On the day of a fete champe-
tre in the enchanting valley called the Val-da-gol, the
rendesvous of the ladies was on a steep and ruggid moun-
tain. She took my arm to descend the abrupt declivity,
which she achieved with the lightness of a nymph; prov-
ing herself the true mother of her intrepid son. I asked
her if it would not be delightful to pass away life in peace
amongst these craggy mountains and flowery fields? and
she answered, as if from her heart, with an accent that
marked a soul: On n'y serait que trop hereux. This, my
dear friend, is all I can call to mind. If these little gbs-
sippings be of. no importance in themselves, the persons
of whom they are related and their growing and extraor-
dinary fortunes may give them some. If they afford you
£he slightest amusement I am repaid.
I might have had the honor of being, on my return to
Paris, presented at the circles of these ladies, and at the
court; but after the arrival of the English ambassador, a
fThis is not said because this lady is now a queen; but be-
cause she was then so amiable.
Y
17b memolrs or
rule was made, that no stranger should be presented, but
by the ministers of their respective countries; and I, a poor
Irish exile, had no country nor no minister. That howev-
er does not hinder me to live in peace with myself and all
the world.
LETTER XXV II.
peace — CornwalHs — Colonel Littlehales — Mij Memorial- — ►
Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecution —
Mrs. Sampson — Her arrival in France with her Chil-
drev. •
AT length, in an unexpected moment, the sound ot
cannon proclaimed the joyful news of peace. Festive illu-
minations gave it new eclat, and drooping humanity, halt*
doubting, half believing, ventured to raise up her head.
Next came the news of the almost frantic transports into
which this event had thrown the government, no less than
the people of England; and how all contending parties
seemed now to be united. This might be supposed an aus-
picious moment for me; one of whose principal crimes was,
with the infinite majority of the people of Great Britain
and Ireland, to have opposed a war, the bare termina-
tion of which, although no one end for which it was ever
pretended to exist had been attained, produced so much
exstacy. If such a peace had produced so much joy, as to
resemble the effects of a reprieve upon the point of an exc*
WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 179
eution,t one would suppose, that persecution would at least
.ease against those who had never encouraged that war;
one might have hoped, that past experience had dictated a
milder and a wiser system.
But more: The minister of this good work, was lord
Cornwallis; the same nobleman whose honor was pledged
to me so solemnly, that I was authorised hy the chancellor,
lord Clare, to say, "that the government that could prove
false to such an agreement, could neither stand, nor de-
serve to stand." Relying upon lord Cornwallis's honor,
however, more than on the assertions of lord Clare, I had
given him a confidence blindly implicit, and to that honor
so flagrantly violated, I had now an opportunity to appeal.
He was now in the plenitude of power, and he knew wheth-
er four years separation from my family, and that detesta-
ble and atrocious law, that it should be felony to corres-
pond with me, entered either into the letter or the spirit of
my agreement with him, for so alone I shall consent to call
it; or whether so base and virulent a persecution was a
just return for the loyalty I had put into the observation of
,my part of this hard bargain, and the moderation I had
shewn not to speak of the great sacrifice I had made to
humanity and peace. I was warmly counselled also by
my friends, and I had sincere ones in every class (for I
have sought only the good, and shunned only the vicious
of any party) to apply directly to lord Cornwallis for re-
dress. Nohody doubted, that he who had power to make
such an agreement would have power to make it respect-
ed. Or that he being entrusted with the destiny of so ma-
f Mr. Lauriston, the Aid-de-Camp who carried the news to
England, was drawn in triumph, by the Englishmen, through,
the streets of London.
1 80 MEMOIRS OF
ny nations, was equal to give a passport to an individual;
who certainly, under the circumstances, had a right to it.
But in this my friends, French, Irish and English, were
?«likc deceived as the sequel will shew.
A few days after the arrival of lord Cornwallis, I de-
manded of him in writing, an audience of a few minutes,
and after some days, I was at his desire received by his
secretary, colonel Littlehales. This gentleman professed
to he already in possession of my story, at which I was
well pleased. But that we might the better understand
each other, I begged to know if he was induced, from any
tiling he knew of me, to look upon me as a person who was
guilty of any crime? lie answered with a frankness that
gave me still a better opinion of him, that I was accused of
being concerned in that which had cost so much blood. I
replied, that when I was in prison was the time to have
examined into that; then when I might be truly said to be
IB the hands of my enemies, in the midst of terror and
carnage; when every law, save those of destruction, was
suspended; when I had no other possible protection than
the courage of honor and innocence, I had boldly and un-
remittingly, to the last hour, demanded a trial, which had
been shamefully refused. For had it been granted, I
vould have made it too clearly appear against my ac-
: users, that they were traitors in every sense of the word;
and that if I was as they pretended, a rebel, I was a rebel
only against the crimes of treason, disloyalty, subordina-
tion, murder, torture, kidnapping, arson, and house-break-
ing; crimes against which I was bound by my true allegi-
ance to rebel. It was natural I said for those who had
taken upon themselves to be my judges, accusers and exe-
"vtioners., to propagate zealously such calumny, because as
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 181
iheir crimes were my defence, so my innocence was their
guilt. They might justify themselves in having by blood-
shed, which I struggled to prevent, worked the union be-
tween England and Ireland. But it was too extravagant
to call an Irishman a traitor, however he might be an
enemy to such proceedings. And if this great measure
is to be followed, as it was preceded by proscriptions, trea-
sons, and persecutions, it must remain a union certainly in
name alone. Lord Cornwallis's principal glory, I added,
in Ireland, had been putting a stop to horrors at which
the human heart recoils, and which I have been disgrace-
fully persecuted for opposing. I did not deny, that under
such circumstances, educated as I was in notions of consti-
tution, liberty, and true religion, I might have been bold,
or call it mad, enough to have taken the field. But this I
never had done; and that all the charges against me, such
as being a French general, a traitor, and so forth, were
alike contemptible, and undeserving of an answer. I
told colonel Littlehales, moreover, that the best compli-
ment I could offer to lord Cornwallis was to assure him of
my firm belief, that in my situation he would have done
the same thing; and that upon no pretext whatever he
would suffer my countrymen to go over to his country and
torture his countrvmen or ravish his country -women. If I
did not think so, and that he would repel them at the peril
of his existence, I should not think of him as I did, and no
man should ever have seen me at his door. I also answered
colonel Littlehales, that of all the charges preferred
against me, not one happened to be true. But if it was
any satisfaction to him at any time, I was ready to say to
what degree, and in what manner, I should have consented
to repel force by force.
132 MF/M01RS <iB
Such were the topics 1 used; but which I certainly urged
« ith all the deference due to his situation, and to the per-
son of the marquis Cormvallis, whom I always wished to
respect. However, he interrupted me by advising me in
the name of lord Cormvallis, as a friend, to present him a
memorial, which he (lord Cormvallis) would undertake to
forward to the lord lieutenant of Ireland; but that I should
leave out every thing but what went to prove that I came
involuntarily into France, and that I had not since I had
been there joined in any hostility against the government
of England. And colonel Littlehales added, that he him-
self would be in Ireland as soon as the memorial could
be there. And he even advised me to apprise my wife of
this, and to prevent her coming precipitately over, as
told him I had invited her to do after my fruitless applica-
tion to lord Pelham. He said that he could not take upon
himself to promise; yet in his opinion it was likely to be,
since my desire was to return liome, a useless trouble and
expense. He told me that in a few clays the post-office
would be open, and that I might write freely in that way;
but as I feared the interception of my letters, that channel
having long ceased to be inviolate, he charged himself
with the care of forwarding a letter to my wife, to the
effect abovementioned. In this letter I advised her to
wait a little longer, until an answer to this application
should be given. But above all, to be prepared for either
event. This letter never reacted her.
,
WILLIAM SAMPSQX. 18f>
I then drew up and delivered the following memorial:
To his Excellency the Marquis ComwaUis, his BrilUh Ma-
jesty's Minister Plenipotentiary in France.
The Memorial of William Sampson, native of London-
derry,
SHEWETH,
Thai your memorialist, upon the faith of an agreement
entered into with your excellency's government, did go to
Portugal for the recovery of his health, where he arrived
in ftie month of February, 1799.
Upon the 22d of March in the same year, he was arrest-
ed in the city of Oporto, sent prisoner to Lisbon, and from
thence transported by force to Bordeaux.
In this latter city he remained until the beginning of the
last winter, when he was induced, by the rumor of jfeace
and the advice of his friends, to come to Paris, in hopes
of finding some means of reclaiming justice, such as your
excellency's arrival in this country at length seemed to
offer.
Immediately after his arrival in France, he took pains to
apprise the government of his country of an outrage so
flagrant, which was accordingly effected by Mr. Dobbs,
a member of the Irish parliament, to whom he begs leave
to refer your excellency.
Your memorialist also refers your excellency to his
grace the duke of Portland, who was very early informed
of this transaction, and who in consequence gave orders,
that letters should pass between your memorialist and his
wife, through the hands of Mr. Cotes; to which gentle •
man he also refers.
Upon your excellency's arrival in Paris he requested an
i4 MEMOIRS OF
audience, in order, if any doubt remained upon your minu,
to remove it. That refused, lie must necessarily, to avoid
recrimination, pass over details which however mildly
stated could only tend to excite horror, and shortly beg
of your excellency lo consider,
That, notwithstanding the inhuman manner of his be-
ing cast upon an enemy's shore, surrounded by the snares
of perfidy and malice; under every circumstance of ag-
gravated provocation; with precarious means of subsist-
ence, and deprived of all knowledge of ihe destination or
even existence of his family; he took counsel, not from his
wrongs, but from his honor, so that it is absurd, if not im-
possible, to enter into any justification of a character so
proudly unimpeached.
Your memorialist therefore requests, that all further
persecution may cease. And though the world is not
rich enough to make him any compensation for the inju-
ries he has sustained, he may be allowed, as far as possi-
ble, to forget the past and to return to his country, in
order to join his family after a separation of near four
years, and take measures for his future establishment, &c.
William Sampson.
Paris, November 13, 1801.
Thus the matter stood when lord Cornwallis left Paris
for Amiens. The memorial contained such facts, such
proofs and such references, as left nothing to doubt. It
would have been insulting lord Cornwallis to have offered
him proof, had it been possible, that I did not arrest myself
in Portugal, and imprison myself in the house of the
corrigidor of Oporto, and in the dungeons of Lisbon. But
I had long ago referred to Mr. Walpole, who knew it all
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 185
\Tith respect to what I had not done in France, it was
scarcely to be expected that I should have proofs of that.
Yet fortune seemed to favor justice in that respect. For
the general (Musnier) now sent to command in the city of
Amiens, was an officer of unquestioned honor and a
man of high consideration in every respect: and this gen-
tleman had commanded at Bordeaux when I was there.
Having had the good fortune to form a friendship and inti-
macy with him, he knew my whole manner of life in that
town, until his departure for the army of reserve; a short
time before, I myself quitted Bordeaux. I therefore wrote
a letter to general Musnier, and begged of him to testify
what he knew: and I wrote also by the same post to
colonel Littlehales to apprise him of this fact.
From this latter gentleman I received the answer sub-
joined:
Sir,
I received the honor of your letter of the
8th. instant last night: and in answer to its contents, I
have only to assure you, that I sealed and forwarded the
letters, which you transmitted through me to Mrs. Samp-
son, the day they reached me.
In regard to your memorial to lord Cornwallis, I like
wise submitted it to his lordship, and by his desire
transmitted it to one of the under secretaries of state for
the home department, to be laid before lord Pelham.
I shall enquire on my arrival in London, which will
probably be very soon, whether or not your memorial has
z
186 MEMOIRS OF
been duly received: but it is not in my power further to
interfere in vour case.
/ hare the honor to be, Sir,
Your most obedient
Humble servant,
E. B. LlTTLEHAMES.
HV Sampson, Esq.
And from general Musnier, I had the following letter
written in English:
a Monsieur William Sampson,
Hotel Bourbon, Rue Jacob,
a Paris.
I delivered, dear sir, your letter to Col. Little-
hales, and I have the satisfaction to tell you he received
it in a very obliging manner, and assured me that the
marquis Cornwallis had written to the Irish government
in your favor. He promised me also to inform you of
the answer, and to continue his endeavors for the success
of your desires. Be assured nothing on my side shall be
wanting to prevent their forgetting to forward this affair.
J am ever yours,
Mr/SNIEK.
Amiens, 22<J Frimaire, 10th year.
Thus things remained until the latter end of January,
when I heard from my wife, that Mr. Dobbs had been
told by Mr. Marsden, that I could not be permitted to re-
turn home; but that there was no objection to my family
being permitted to come to me.
This Mr. Marsden is the same gentleman of the law,
who so candidly arranged with lord Castlereagh the recog-
WILLIAM SAMPS0X. 187
uisance I was obliged to sign, before I could quit bride-
well. After what had passed in Paris, I did not expect to
be turned round again to Mr. Marsden- to ask for an an-
swer. It was to lord Cornwallis, and not to Mr. Marsden,
I had addressed myself. As to Mr. Marsden, I think of
him just as I did before: as to him and his associates they
could never deceive me, for I never trusted them; nor
could any thing they could say either wound or injure me:
for
"Insults are innocent where men are worthless."
But lord Oornwallis's honor was at stake: it became
him to have redressed me, and he has not done it.
Here then was at length something that appeared to be
decided; at least there seemed to be a relinquishment of
that monstrous idea of separating me from my family.
My friends and I were now assured, that passports would
no longer be refused to my family to come and join me;
but the venom was not yet assuaged. My persecution had
not reached its term: for my wife about this time, having
written to the duke of Portland, in her impatience to
know her destiny; he answered her, and promised to
lay her letter before lord Pelham; and after some time
she received the following letter from Mr. King:
Madam,
I am directed by lord Pelham to acquaint
you, in answer to your letter to the duke of Portland of
the 5th instant, requesting permission for your husband
to return to Ireland, that his lordship is very sorry it is
aot in his power to comply with your request.
J am, Madam,
Your n\ost obedient humble servant,
J. KlNQ.
188 MEMOIRS OF
Indeed the letter by which my kinsman, Mr. Dobbs,
announced Mr. Marsden's answer to my wife, was of
very bad augur for any view either of humanity, of justice
towards me, towards my unoffending wife and children,
or my wretched country. In it are these expressions*
"I received a letter from your husband a short time ago,'*
4md then it concludes "I would have written to him, but
I do not feel that, under the existing circumstances, 1
ought to do so." Now this Mr. Dobbs is my near kinsman.
He is a man whom I myself recommended and prevailed
upon to be the agent of negociation between the state-pris^
oners and the government, at a time when it entered little
into my thoughts, or his, or those of any other person, that
I was to be the dupe of the generous part I acted. As to
my kinsman, he could not be accused of any but the most
natural and inoffensive motive for corresponding with me,
and the circumstances he stood in as an agent in the bar-
gain I made, called upon him imperiously to communicate
with me. Judge then, by these expressions in his letter,
of the terror that still broods over this newly united king-
dom, so degrading to those who live under its iron sway,
and a thousand times more dreadful to an honest mind
than death.
END OF THE XETTEBS WRITTEN IN FRANCE;
WlfcliAM SAMPSON* 18&
THE SUBJECT CONTINUED*
IN A SERIES OF
LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK,
LETTER XXVIII,
Of the Terror in France*
New-York, 180f.
YOUR flattering expressions, my dearest friend*
and the interest you take in my fate, are reward enough
for any trouble it can cost me, to give my opinion upoft
the topics you point out; and to relate the sequel of my
story. As in every Work some method must be observed,
I shall take the first that presents itself, and in adopting
the order Of your questions, make each the subject of a
separate letter.
To speak of the terror in France is, I must say, to be-
gin with the most painful part of my task. To defend or
justify the enormities committed on that great theatre,
could least of all be expected from one of my principles
or feelings. He who has been devoted to the cause of
liberty, and a martyr to the desire of promoting human
happiness, must turn with most natural abhorrence from
the vices by which the idol of his heart has been profaned.
190 MEMOIRS OF
But since the world lias been made to resound with these
i rimes; since they have been celebrated through the uni
verse by eloquence so much beyond my pretensions, until
every echo has been wearied with the repetition of them,
it would be an idle affectation to go over a ground so
beaten. I could however wish, that those who have been
so zealous in proclaiming the sufferings of the victims to
the French terror, had been themselves more innocent of
them. That their machinations, intrigues and inter-
ference, had not tended to promote them. And I could
further wish, that if they were innocent of that terror,
they had been also guiltless of one more cruel and more
horrible; for too truly may the French terrorist reply to
the English terrorist, "mutato nomine de te fabula narra-
tor;" by altering the names of things we do not change
their nature: and what is tyranny in France, cannot be
ennobled in Ireland by the appellation of "loijaltij," of
"royidty" or of "rigor beyond the law!''
Yoh express your wonder, that in a civilized country,
either monsters should be found to plan such deeds, or in-
struments to execute them. But it is surely less wonder-
ful that they should happen during the first convulsive
throws of a nation bursting the bonds of ancient thraldom;
a people long used to abject submission, suddenly and vio-
lently becoming masters; and where hostile interference of
foreigners, malevolent intrigues, and ferocious threats, had
carried rage and despair into the hearts of the multitude,
than that they should happen under a regular and settled
government.
The state and parliamentary proceedings of England,
and also the proclamations of the duke of Brunswick, at
t he head of a foreign army, before any terror had been
WILLIAM 3AMPS0X. 191
praetisedy threatened the people of France with fire and
sword. The fate of such measures under general Bur-
goyne and the others in America, was a sufficiently recent
example to have served as a warning against that mode of
dragooning, if perverse men were capable of taking a les-
son from experience, or measuring with a judicious eye
the present and the past.
Then if we must wonder at mad cruelty, let it rather
be, that such deeds could be perpetrated under a govern -
ment vast and powerful, which had neither interest nor
temptation to be any thing but just! Of the terror in Ire-
land my former correspondence may have given you some
faint idea: some histories since published in more detail,
may have fallen into your hands: and indeed the horror
of those enormities, in spite of all the pains taken to sup-
press it, seems at length to have made its way to the
hearts and understandings of the intelligent and virtuous
in most parts of the civilized world. And perhaps it is
now in England alone, that they are least known or fell.
I must observe, nevertheless, that every historian who
has treated of them, seems more or less tinctured with the
spirit of the times, and to crouch under the sentiment wo
deplore: so that whilst it is above all things meritorious
to blazon the crimes of the French revolutionists, it is
held treasonable and desperate to speak of those of Ire
land, as if the ancient proverb, "we are born to suffer,"
was intended for the edification of Irishmen alone!
For this reason I think it due to justice and to truth, to
draw some lines of impartial comparison between these
two parties.
First. In France the jacobin chiefs were not, as I ever
could learn, avariciouslv interested: few of them enriched
192 MEMOIllS 01
themselves; and it was not until after the fall or decline of
their system that great fortunes were made in France out
of the public spoil. Now in Ireland, murderers, denoun-
cers and traitors were loaded with rewards. And he of
the Irish who committed the most cruelties against his
countrymen was distinguished with most favor.
Secondly. In France, though death was wantonly in-
flicted in a way to make human nature shudder, yet the
crime of corporal torture was not resorted to even where
guilt was proved; in Ireland, torture of the innocent mere-
ly to extort accusation, was the avowed system, and in-
demnified as "loyalty and vigor beyond the law!"
Thirdly. In France, the Catholic clergy were banished;
in Ireland they were hanged. Many of the French have
since returned, and live happy in their country; those
hanged in Ireland can never more return.
Fourthly. In France it was a question which of two
principles of government should prevail; in Ireland it was
whether there should be a national or a foreign govern-
ment. I cannot give much credit to the English minis-
ters for their zeal in this controversy. For as Mr. Sheri-
dan once pointedly observed, England had incurred a,
ruinous debt of six hundred millions of pounds sterling,
one half of which was to pull down the Bourbons, and
the other to set them up. No more consistent was it to
send king George's troops to protect the person of the
Pope in Rome, and then to tell him that Ins coronation-
oath prevented him from giving relief to his Catholic sub-
jects at home.
Fifthly. There was no instance in France of men being
put to death for saving the lives of their persecutors. In
Ireland it was done.
Sixthly. I never could hear that that most brutal of all
ferocity, theprdbk violation of female chastity, had made
part of the system of terror in France; that it did in Ire
land is too deplorably true.
There is a story related and strongly ^tested to me,
which it would be unjust to suppress: Two young ladies
of the Orange or government faction, whose father, Mr.
H G— , l^d rendered himself by violent cruelty
peculiarly obnoxious; and who (shame of their sex) had
performed with their own hands many acts of torture and
indignity, fell into the power of the rebels. Their con-
sciences suggested that they ought to share the fate which
the Irish women had suffered on similar occasions. They
addressed themselves to certain young officers of the rebel
detachment, requesting their protection from the mob;
but offering, as to them, to surrender their persons at dis-
cretion. The rebel officers replied with dignity and gene-
rosity, that they had taken arms against the enemies of
their country, to punish their crimes, but not to imitate
them.
I might push this parallel much further; but it would
be useless, and it is certainly disgusting: still, however,
your question recurs; how instruments can be found in
any country to execute such deeds as makes us sometimes
detest our very species, and almost wish to be of any
other.
Grave and true as tftis reflection is, let us not, my dear-
est friend, push it too far. And above all, in christian
and charitable hope let us presume that all who have had
part in these crimes are not in equal guilt. Might it not
he possible that even some are innocent?
Without recurring to the tyrannies of remote or an
a a
1P4 MEMOIRS OF
iVnt nations, and all their histories are pregnant with
such instances, let us take that of England alone in her
civil wars. Multitudes have fallen innocently for what
did not concern them. Witness the wars of the white
and the red rose. Yet in those wars all the noble blood
was attainted with treason and rebellion; whilst the vul-
gar rotted without name. All England was in action on
one side or other; but it would be too violent to say
there was no man of either party innocent.
At an after period, when in the name of the ever living
God of Peace and Love, the pile was lighted to burn here-
tics and schismatics, and those who would neither swear
nor subscribe to new doctrines and articles of credence
understood by nobody, were cast into the flames; and those
that did subscribe and swear to them, were, in their
turn, as the balance of dominion shifted, cast into the
flames. When the child yet unborn was ripped from the
mother's womb, and cast into the flames, and when the
Whole nation was fanaticised on the one side or the other,
was no man innocent?
In all the wars of conquest and of plunder, in which
England has had her ample share, was no man innocent?
In all the cruelties committed in America, in Africa, and
in India, by the English, was no man innocent?
In all the barbarous crimes committed by our ancestors,
the English, against our ancestors, the Irish, as bloody as
those which have happened in our own days, was no
irtjr.i innocent?
When you will have answered all these questions, you
will have found the solution of your own.
Let us endeavor to cherish the most consolatory senti-
ment. Example, education, habit, ignorance, the influ-
WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 195
ence of power, the smooth seductions of corruption and of
luxury, the warmth of passion, the baneful effects of calum-
ny and imposture, mistaken zeal which degenerates into
bigotry, the weakness of the coward and the pressure of
the tyrant, the temptations of wealth and the goadings of
necessity, are so many fatal snares ever lying in wait for
the integrity of miserable man. None have ever suddenly
become consummate in iniquity; the gradations are often
insensible. Few causes so bad but may put on some shew
of fairness; and the human mind, seldom free from bias of
some kind, finds too easy an excuse in sophistry and self-
delusion for its first deviations; but the path of rectitude,
once forsaken, is not easily regained.
Such is the human heart; its issues are strange and in-
scrutable, and the paths of error many and intricate. I
have often witnessed with deep regret these early conflicts
between virtue and error, in the breast of those I loved.
I have seen them struggle; I have seen them suffer; I have
seen them falter, and I have seen them fall. I have seen
them turn away from me, whilst my heart was yet warm
towards them, and have lamented it in vaj.fi; and I have
seen, that when the soul first proves recreant to truth, and
first swerves from the acknowledged principles of immu-
table and eternal justice, it is from that moment diffi-
cult to say how far its aberrations may extend. In the
beginning it will search for pretexts and excuses; by de-
grees it will be more easily satisfied; until at length con-
science becomes callous and crime familiar.
Enough, my best friend, of this dismal subject. I have
pursued it so far in compliance with your request. It is
for my own peace now, that I beg your permission to re-
196 MEMOIRS OF
linquish it. and proceed to your next enquiry, if not more
easy of solution, at least more agreeable.
LETTER XXIX.
Of the Character of tfte French Nation.
ON tiiis head I should greatly fear to add to the
number of tourists and travellers, who have said much and
said little; whoso only merit has been to put together
stale conceits and garbled anecdotes. But you say that
every nation has a character, and I readily admit it. In
general the lines of national character are as distinct as
the features of the face. But truly to designate them
belongs only to a few favored geniuses, and would require
the pencil of Hogarth or the pen of Sterne. Everyone
knows that the French are gay, gallant and courteous. I
need not repeat, that they dance well, and that they fight
well. They are said to be insincere, vain and inconstant,
all which perhaps is true, and may lessen the dignity and
importance of their character. I am neither partial to
them, npr bigotted against them. I may be partial to my
own country, perhaps the more because it is unfortunate.
I may be partial to the country of my adoption, because I
find in it that liberty which in my own is lost; but I am
partial to no other; yet it would be unjust to deny that in
that one, into which the wickedness of my enemies drove
me to take refuge, and where I was compelled to remain
near seven years with little else to do than to observe, I
' wiiliam: sambsos. 197"
have found Mends as generous and sincere as any I have
known elsewhere. Sincere indeed, because my fortunes
were too low to buy me friends. Nor had I ever any rea-
son to feel or to suppose I had an enemy. I did not like
all I saw in France: I detested much of it. I grieved to
fiHd that a great event which had bid fair, as I once
tfiought, and as good men hoped, to extend the sphere of
human happiness, and the empire of reason, knowledge
and philosophy, should, after deluges of human blood,
serve to no other end, than to plunge mankind still deep-
er in the gulph of corruption and tyranny! But I held it
as my duty to respect the power that protected me; and
though my opinions were not much disguised, I never was
molested for them.
That the French are insincere, is perhaps true; because
they are naturally given to exaggeration; but with all
that insincerity, I know of no people who will from mere
kindness and politeness confer so many favors, and that
with so good a grace; it is therefore more agreeable to
live among them, undoubtedly, insincere as they may be,
than with a people disagreeably sincere and not more be-
nevolent. As far as manners are in question, theirs are
the most hospitable on the earth.
That they are vain, is true. I wish the conduct of many
of their enemies had given them better cause to be less
vain. They have however the good sense to temper their
vanity with the forms of courtesy, which is better still
than "to be proud and brutal, as some 'Other people are,
who mistake stiffness for dignity, sullenness for superiori-
ty, and abruptness for sincerity.
Their inconstancy proceeds from tluat which is the true
basis of all their actions, and the essential difference be-
/
103 MKMOIliS OF
twecn their character iind that of other nations, the cxv
treme love of enjoyment, or as they themselves call it, U
besom de jouir. They are the true epicureans. They
love pleasure above all things, and will buy it at any price.
They will fight, coax, flatter, cheat — any thing to gain it.
But this justice must be allowed them, that feeling the ne-
cessity of being pleased, they think it a duty to be agreea-
ble; and they seemed to have formed a social contract to
amuse and be amused reciprocally. On the same epicurian
principle, that they love pleasure beyond all other people,
they shun pain, and are beyond all others ingenious in giv-
ing it a defeat. And against that kind of pain for which
they have a term so appropriate, that otlier nations are
obliged to borrow it from them, that torment of the idler,
which they call ennui, they arc ever actively in arms.
Set a Frenchman down in any part of the earth, in
peace or in war; let him be destitute of every thing, he
will make the best of his position. And no sooner will he
have provided himself with food and raiment, than he will
have sought out some means for his amusement. II faut
samuser is a fundamental maxim of their philosophy, and
they will tell you, Jlutant vaut crever defaim que de crever
d' ennui. And indeed the most favorable aspect under
which the French character can be viewed, is that which
so many of the unfortunate emigrants have assumed, when
nnder the pressure of misfortune and disgrace, they have
turned with so much cheerfulness the little accomplish-
ments of their education to profit, or struck out with ad-
mirable ingenuity new inventions of their own industry.
Another remarkable singularity is, that the French, al-
though gay, versatile and airy, are governed more than
any other people by settled rules of conduct and of beha
WILLIAM SAMPSOXjr 1*-J
■Vitfar. These rules constitute their social code, and are
entitled usage. The highest praise you can bestow, m a
stranger particularly, is, that he has beaucoup d'usage. A.
proud Englishman of my acquaintance once thought him-
self insulted by a compliment of that kind from a gentle-
man, and seemed inclined to return it ungraciously, until
a lady interfered and set the thing to rights, by saying,
que V usage n'empeche pas d' avoir de V esprit il sort sentiment
a le regler. To be original on the same principle is to he
ridiculous, and this sentiment has passed into a bye-
word; so that c'sf un original is the same as to say, that
is a quiz. It may be a question, however, whether this
scrupulous attention to routinary and practical observances
does not sometimes damp the fire of the imagination and
the freedom of true wit.
When you ask me then, how I like the French, I say,
how should I like them but well. Englishmen and
Frenchmen may be natural enemies; but the Irish, to
whom they have never done such injuries as the English
have, and who have found an asylum in their country is
every period of their oppressions, have no need to be
their enemies. At all events, they are still in a state of
permanent and natural alliance with the charms of their
women and their wine. And this brings me to speak of
the French ladies, who are very deserving of a separate
notice.
Of the French Women.
What a subject, Oli Jupiter! What muse to invoke:
what colors to employ! Who is he that can describe this
whimsical, incomprehensible and interacting being'?
HEM0IB9 ut
Well did Sterne say, that "nothing here was salique
but the government." For the ladies of France, to in-
demnify themselves for this exclusion from the throne,
have seized upon the most despotic power, and rule over
their subjects "with absolute sway.
A pretty woman in France is a sovereign prince, who
knows neither resistance nor controul. She is an ambi-
tious potentate, that makes conquests and cedes them, and
will exchange a subject as a province. In the midst of
her circle she is a law-giver, and her decrees, like the
proclamations of king Henry the eighth, have the full force
of acts of parliament. At her toilet she holds her levy;
in her boudoir she gives private audience, and in her bed
she receives her ministers. She has favorites and officers
of state, and confirms their honors by a kiss of her hand.
Her train is filled with rival courtiers and jealous expect-
ants, whom she keeps in peace and civility by her sove-
reign authority. Her forces, like her ways and means,
are inexhaustible. She pays her servants with a smile,
and subdues her enemies with a frown. She makes war
with the artillery of her eyes, and peace she seals with the
impression of her lips. Rebels and male-contents she pun-
ishes with exile or death, as the case may be. She pro-
tects learning, science and the arts. Authors submit
their works to her, and artists implore her patronage.
She receives the homage of the gay, of the grave, of the
old and of the young. The sage, the hero, the wit and
the philosopher, all range themselves under her banners
and obey her laws. In all the concerns of life she rules,
directs, presides. She transacts all affairs; projects, de-
cides and executes. She is in all temporal matters liege
lady and proprietor; the resolution of a man, the grace of
-VV1L1IAM SAMPSON. 201
an angel. As to her capacities, she is hut an elegant little
variety of man. Her titles are undisputed. Ask whose
house that is: it belongs to Madame une telle.' Has she a
husband? 1 cant say: I never saw any.
Will you have a more familiar instance? I was sitting
at the fire side with my wife; a tradesman brought in a
pair of boots; I asked if they were my boots? I do not
know, sir, I believe they are for the husband of madame!
Enquire who is that cavalier? He is of the society of
madaine . She is the sun of a sphere, and all
her planets and satellites walze round her; and her voice,
is the music of the sphere.
Taught from her infancy to please, and conscious 0f
her power by its effects, she wears the air of acknowledged
superiority, and receives man's submission as her due.
Yet ever zealous to extend her empire, ever active in main-
taining it, she neglects no art, no charm, no seduction.
When she moves, it is all grace; when she sings, it is all
sentiment; when she looks, it is all expression; when she*
languishes, it is all softness; when she frolics it is all riot,*
when she sighs, it is all tenderness; when she smiles it is
all happiness; and when she laughs, all is mirth. She is
good-humored from philosophy, and kind from calculation.
Her beauty is her treasure, and she knows that Ill-humors
impair it. De ne pas se faire mauvais savg, is her car-
dinal maxim. Thus, with all the vivacity of her nature,
she shuns strong emotions, and becomes upon principle,
dispassionate and cold; for her ambition is to be adored,
and not to love — Hold, hold, I hear you exclaim, then she
is a coquette? Alack-a-day, my friend, and it is even so!
But let justice ever guide my pen. However coquet-
tish these fascinating beings may be; however e;eneral3v
Bb
;>02 MEMOIRS Ok
they may be charged with gallantry, and I am no knight-
errant, nor bound to prove the contrary; yet I believe
many there are who speak of them unfairly, and "fancy
raptures that they never knew." And I think I can as-
sure you, that there are in France as affectionate and
faithful wives, as tender and attentive mothers, as in any
other country of the earth. Such, however, are not natu-
rally the first to present themselves to the acquaintance of
the stranger or traveller.
LETTER XXX.
Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Correspondence — Mr.
Thornton — Lord Hawkesbury — Mr. Fox.
IT is time now that my accounts are settled and
my debts discharged in France, that we should think of
leaving it. From the year 1799, until the arrival of Mrs.
Sampson in 1802, I had led a bachelor's life, which had
given me an opportunity of making a very numerous ac-
quaintance. If ever we should meet again, I might per-
haps amuse you with such observations a& I have been
able to make upon some of those who now figure amongst
the first personages of the universe, and with my opinions
of their various merits. But besides that I should fear to
weary your patience, I am now obliged to dedicate almost
all my hours to the occupations and studies of my profes-
sion, and am forced to hurry through this correspondence
in a manner more careless and abrupt than you might
WILLIAM SAMPSON. £0fc
otherwise have reason to be pleased with. Necessity is
in this case my apology; and I count upon your accept-
ance of it.
After the arrival of Mrs. Sampson my life became once
more domestic. We joined our labours in the education
of our children, which became our chief pleasure and our
principal care. We were not unrewarded for our pains.
Their letters in various languages, which I have for-
warded to you, may give you some idea of the progress of
their understandings, and are the unstudied effusions of
their innocent hearts. We spent three summers in the
charming valley of Montmorency and as many winters in
Paris, not so much to enjoy its brilliant pleasures as to
give our children the advantage of the best masters in
those accomplishments which they could never learn so
well elsewhere. But at length, some symptoms of declin-
ing health in my son, certain family concerns, and the
desire my wife had to revisit a kind and excellent mother
whom she loves with a deserved enthusiasm, decided us to
endeavor at returning. Indeed I was tired of living in-
active, and long wished to take my flight for the happy
country where, fate, it seems, had intended I should at last
repose.
The intensity of the war with England made a state of
neutrality and independence more difficult to be preserved;
and the sincerity of my disposition allowed of no disguise.
I applied therefore for a passport which I obtained, not
without difficulty, to go to Hamburg; and this was granted
on the recommendation of my countrymen who were in the
French service, and from other persons of distinction,
and who were willing to do me every good office. My
passport was that of a prisoner of war, signed by the min-
xb4 MEMOIRS 0¥
ister of war and countersigned by the minister of police*
(See Appendix JVo. XV. )
Nothing in our journey was worth remarking until we
arrived at Rotterdam. There we were like to have suffer-
ed a heavy misfortune from the loss of our only son, who
was attacked with a violent fever, which detained us, I
think, six weeks. The only pleasure or consolation we
had in this town, was in the goodness and hospitality of
Mr. George Crawford, a Scotch gentleman of good for-
tune, who without place or office represents his country,
by his reception of strangers from every quarter of the
world, in a distinguished and honorable manner.
We spent some days at the Hague, and about the latter
end of June left Holland, passing from Amsterdam across
the Zuyder Sea, and reached Hamburg in the month of
July. On my arrival I thought it prudent to present my-
self both to the French and English minister. For if I
was to go to England, I should require the protection of
the latter; or if circumstances should oblige me to return
to France, of the former.
I lost no time in announcing to Mr. Thornton my situa-
tion and my wishes, and produced to him such of my
papers as might satisfy him at; once of my identity and my
views; and after some explanation he undertook to write
to lord Hawkesbury respecting my permission to conduct
my wife and children home.
I must sav, that of all the towns where it has been my
fortune to be, this was the least agreeable. Hitherto our
little means, backed by the various kindnesses and par-
tialities of friends, had made our course of life smooth
and agreeable, nor was there any reasonable gratification
to which we were strangers. In this place, the very as-
Willi AM SAMPSON.
£05
nect of which is odious, there were few sources of enjoy-
ment, and those expensive. From one or two respectable
families we received some attentions; but we soon found
that retirement was our best prospect of comfort.
There is a custom inhospitable, and deserving of animad-
version, which has too much prevalence in other countries,
but which is pushed to extreme both in Holland and in
this city, which is, that the guest must pay a heavy ran-
som at any genteel house, to get out of the hands of the
servants. I have been told that some servants get no
other wages. I should not wonder if they bought their
places. At all events, between coach-hire, ransom and
cards, at which I never play without losing, we found a
dinner or supper too dear for our shattered fortunes, and
determined prudently to live on ourselves. I had besides,
a horror of this town, from the recollection of the cruel-
ties committed upon certain of my countrymen, as you will
see by the short, simple and truly interesting narrativo
lately published at Versailles, by William Corbet, en-
titled La condnite du senat de Hamburg devoilee aux yewx
de V Europe, of which I send you" a copy. We provided
ourselves, therefore, with a lodging at a place called
Slavshoff, on the banks of the Elbe, near Altona, the
Same which the English minister, Rumbold, had occupied
at the time of his arrest; and there we dedicated our time
as before to the care and education of our children. My
son was now eleven years of age, and sufficiently advanced
to make his tuition a source of some amusement and profit
to myself. We often walked with our book along the
strand, and divided our time between exercise and study.
I was a play-fellow to him and he was a companion to me.
When we met an agreeable and sequestered spot, we sat
COG .MEMO IKS OF
clown to study, and when tired we got up and walked.
Thus wc followed the outward discipline of the Pcripatet-
io school, though in many things we differed from it, and
lidd considerably less to the opinions of Aristotle. It is
curious to recollect how many didactic sentences, how
many grave aphorisms, rules of criticism, logic and philoso-
phy, that poor child has been cajoled to swallow, as well
on the hanks of this river, as in the lovely forest of Mont-
morency, either climbing upon a rock, or swinging on
the bow of a green tree.
My daughter was about nine years old and gifted, if
my partiality docs not deceive me, with uncommon powers
of mind! The facility with which she could conceive and
learn things above the level of her years, often surprised
and delighted me. She had besides a little arch turn of
Irish drollery, which enhanced her merit in my eyes, with
an amiable caressing manner, and above all a heart full
of sensibility and goodness.
She had learned at Paris to dance and to draw. In the
former she became in a short time very excellent, even in
that country where that accomplishment is so universal
and so improved. Her brother acquitted himself very
well also; and they have sometimes innocently figured in
i heir old arid new gavottee of restris, before some of the
first good company of Europe. I knew just enough of
this matter, from having paid attention to their lessons, to
exercise -them. I had stolen some instructions from their
drawing1 masters, and having a natural love of the art, I
was in some slight degree qualified to be their teacher un-
til a better could be had. I taught them moreover to
write, in which my son has now surpassed me, and to
count, and now he and I are perhaps on a par. I made
I
WIIMAM SAMPSON. £07
them write little letters to each other alternately in French
and English, and as I soon learned to read the Hamburgh
Correspondenten, so I began to teach my son to read the
German. But in this the scholar soon became master;
and he repaid me in a short time for my poor lessons in
the German language, by teaching mc to speak it and to
write it. He had then advanced so far in the Latin as
to have a sort of understanding of the JEneid, and in a few
months more would have had no difficulty with any Latin
author, had I not judged it preferable, for fear of oppress-
ing his mind with too maity studies, to drop that course
in order that he might take more full advantage of the
opportunity that offered of acquiring the German. And
though we were now in Germany, yet you would be much
surprised at the difficulties we had to attain this end.
During the summer which we spent at Slavshoff, I in vain
endeavored to get him put to school, for it was necessary
to conform to the rules of these seminaries, and to send
him to board there for a certain length of time, with
other circumstances, which did not square with my plans.
In the house where we lived there was no person but the
gardner who spoke German. He was a Hanoverian; all
the rest, masters and servants, were French. In the shops
and all other places where any little affairs might lead us,
they preferred speaking bad French or bad English, to
hearing our bad German: and indeed the language of
Hamburg and Altona is a most barbarous jargon, called
plat Deuchf insomuch that I have been told by those who
spoke the true language, that they could not understand
this. Tims my son was indebted for all he knew of tha
polite German, to the Hanoverian (George) until he ro
turned in the winter to Hamburg, and her» the matter was
208 MEMOIRS or
not easily mended. I naturally wished to put him to one
of the first schools; but there I found it was forbidden
ander fines and penalties, to speak in the German lan-
guage; and in French or English he needed no instruc-
tions. I therefore sent him to a school of less pretensions
where he made a Aery rapid progress. But leaving this
subject, let us return to our story.
You will recollect, that Mr. Thornton had promised,
shortly after my coming to Hamburg, to write to lord
Hawkesbury. The summer however passed over without
any answer; and I then determined to write myself. The
following is a copy of my letter:
To the Right Hon. Lord Hawkesbury, His Majesty's Princi-
pal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, London.
Hamburg, September 3, 1801.
My Lord,
My case having been already represented
to government, I shall not trouble your lordship with a
useless repetition. During eight years I have been sep-
arated from my friends and my country, under very ex-
traordinary circumstances. My conduct has defied all
reproach. And your lordship is too well informed to be
ignorant of that fact. I do not attempt to reconcile your
lordship to my avowed conduct and sentiments, prior to
lny arrestation. My peculiar position in my country, and
the point of view in which I saw what passed within my
sphere, is so different from any that could ever have pre-
sented itself to your lordship, that it is impossible you
could make much allowance for my feelings. But I do not
WIltlAM SAMPSON. £09
despair that in time your lordship may acknowledge, that
I have been too harshly judged.
It was much to be wished, that the important act
which succeeded to the troubles in Ireland, had closed all
her wounds. And yet, though I presume not to dictate, it
is for government to judge, whether it might not be good
policy to suffer such as love their country and are not dis-
respected in it, to return in freedom to it. For my part,
the frankness I have always used, even where disguise
might have been justifiable, is the best guarantee, that had
I intentions injurious to government, I should not proceed
by asking any favor, it is my duty to suppose all motives
of personal vengeance beneath the dignity of his majesty's
ministers, in whose hands arc affairs of so very different
moment. And in that view I have no doubt that the re-
quest I am about to make will be complied with, as I
have every conviction that it ought.
Having formed the design of quitting Europe, where
during its present agitations I can call no country mine,
it becomes of urgent necessity that I should conduct my
family home; the more so, as my son's health has ren-
dered his native air indispensible. I must also ascertain
the means of my future subsistence. For under whatever
embarrassment my voluntary exile to Portugal might have
laid me, the forceable deportation from thence to France,
and the extraordinary penalties enacted against me in my
absence must, your lordship can conceive, have consider-
ably augmented them. It is now seven weeks since Mr.
Thornton, his majesty's minister resident at Hamburg,
had the goodness to charge himself with an application on
my behalf to this effect: but he has received no answer,
and as the bad season advances, I shall request to know
c c
210 MEMOIRS OF
your lordship's determination as early as possible; and
that you will have the goodness to transmit to that gentle-
man your lordship's answer, and the passport or permis-
sion which may be necessary for my safety; by which
your lordship will confer a very great obligation.
My Lord,
Your Lordship- s
Most obedient humble servant,
William Sampson.
To this there was no other answer than a letter from
Mr. King, the under secretary of state, to Mr. Thornton.
All that I could gather was, that my expressions had not
been pleasing, and were not marked with sufficient contri-
tion. It does not however require more than this, in any
transaction, to shew when there is good intention or good
heart. I had gone as low in humility as I could bring
myself to go. Was I an injured man, or was I not? One
would suppose that that was the principal question; or if
not that, whether it was more wise to drop such unworthy
persecutions, or to keep them alive to rankle in the hearts
of an aggrieved people. Such would be the counsel of gen-
erosity or of wisdom. For if a man be injured, and knows
and feels it, you only add to his injuries, by extorting
false protestations from him, which must aggravate his
feelings or wound his honor. If there be any danger in
admitting him to be a citizen of his own country, it is.
doubled by forcing him to be insincere, and consequently
treacherous. It is said by some that governments should
never acknowledge any wrong. Is it necessary also that
they should never do any right?
Finding now that both my friends and I had been mis
WILLIAM SAMPSOJf. £11
taken in supposing that any more humane or wiser policy
had been adopted, I let the matter rest until the spring of
the next year. During this time I had received several
advices from my friends, in which it was stated, that all
such matters were left to the entire disposal of lord Castlc-
reagh, and that without his concurrence it was impossible
to succeed. And I was strongly urged to address my-
self at once to him; and as all my wrongs had originated
in his warrant of arrestation, that he might perhaps have
been willing to wipe away the sense of that injury by a
well-timed act of justice. It was laying a trap for his gen-
erosity, but it was not to be caught. However, he had at
least the good manners to answer me. His letter bears
date, as you will see, the day on which Mr. Pitt died,
(Jan. 24, 1806.)
To
The Right Honorable
Lord Viscount Castlereagh *
Hamburgh, December 31, 1805.
My Lord
i
In the beginning of last summer I left
Paris to conduct my wife and children to their native
country; and in the month of September I made, through
the medium of Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resi-
dent here, a request to my lord Hawkesbury to be permit-
ted to accompany them, in order to arrange my affairs
previous to my intended departure for America. It was
hoped, as well by my friends as myself, that the govern-
ment would not have refused an indulgence consistent at
812 MEMOIRS O*
once with humanity and policy. And that eight years of
exile, with a conduct above all blame, would have been a
sufficient expiation, whatever demerit I might have had in
their eyes. And I was informed that his lordship had
transmitted my request to the Irish government.
I have also understood, that in such a case, your lord-
ship would be materially consulted, and your interference*
at all events, conclusive. In an affair so important to my
family, I find it my duty to address myself directly to
your lordship, to whom it would be useless to repeat fur-
ther circumstances. If I recollect well, the law by which
I was exiled, a passport from the secretary of state would
be sufficient authority. I therefore take the liberty of en-
treating a speedy answer, as my stay cannot be long in
ihis country, which is entirely uncongenial to the state of
iny health.
/ have the honor to be, my Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most obedient servant,
William Sampson.
answer.
Dotoning-street, January 24, 1806.
Sir,
I have to acknowledge your letter of the
31st ultimo, requesting me to obtain permission for you to
return to Ireland with your family. I have only in an-
swer to say, that it is not in my power to interfere or to de-
cide upon the merits of your case. I have however taken
an opportunity of transmitting your letter to Mr. Long?
WILLIAM SAMPSON. &15
the chief secretary to the Irish government, to be submit-
ted for the consideration of the lord-lieutenant.
/ am, Sir,
Four most obedient
Humble servant,
Castlereagbu
Mr. William Samjjson, Hamburgh.
This was the state of things, when ait event surprising
to me and to every body took place. That same Charles
Fox, whose name had been expunged by the king's own
hand from the list of privy counsellors, as mine had been
from that of Irish counsellors; for it is fair to compare
great things with small: That Charles Fox, whose
words had been taken down with a view to his impeach-
ment, about the same time that I became "suspected of
treasonable practices." This truly great and amiable man,
was now, strange to tell, at the head of the cabinet, and
apparently first in the council of the king. I must say,
that from the impressions of my mind, I was at first at a
loss how to believe the fact. I thought it too like wisdom
to be real. But when that was put beyond doubt, I could
not think that it was done otherwise than as a trick or
subterfuge to answer some crooked or temporary purpose.
However, when the news came that the whole ministry'
was changed; that lord Moira was grand master of the
ordinance, and Mr. Ponsonby, high chancellor of Ireland;
that Mr. Grattan and Mr. Curran were thought worthy of
trust, I no longer doubted that my case would meet with
difficulty. At the time that I became "suspected," the
Ponsonbys had, I have been told, soldiers billeted on
them at free quarters; and they had seceded from the
214 MEMOIRS Off
house of commons as a place too corrupt for an honest
man to sit in. Mr. Grattan had been disfranchised by the
corporation of the city of Dublin; his picture taken down
in Trinity College, and put into the privy-house. The
name of a street called from him was, changed, and he was
loaded with the grossest obloquy, and often threatened
with hanging. I remember some persons examined before
a secret committee, touching his intimacy with me; but
whether to criminate him by me, or me by him, I do not
pretend to say.
Lord Moira had been abused; his tenants massacred,
and his town threatened with the flames. Mr. Curran
was once so persecuted, that I was reprobated for visiting
him; and often urged to change the name of my son, who
was called after him, and whose sponser he was. I might
say more, but to what purpose? If there was sincerity in
man, I might have counted upon the sympathy and friend-
ship of these persons. I was very true in the attachment
I had formed for them; I looked upon their great talents
as ornaments to their country, and wished nor expected no
other reward than a return of personal friendship. In-
deed my own independence has ever been the jewel of my
soul; that I have preserved, and will preserve ^whilst I
have life. Will any of these important characters say that
they were at one time more favored by the peep-of-day-boys
than I was? No! the difference was only this: When I
was suspected, I was not in parliament; when they were ob-
noxious, they were. And the suspension of the habeas cor-
pus had respect to that sacred office: "Les loups lie se
inaugent pas," says the French proverb. The wolves
dont eat each other; and as members of parliament they
were safe. But tins I call heaven to witness, that the
WIIXIAM SAMPSON 215
proudest of them never acted towards his country with sen-
timents more holy than I have, and I am sure they know
it. Enough of this at present. Another time I may corao
back upon this subject; and if I can at the saiue time do
these great men honor, and do myself justice, it will be a
happy task for me. I shall now give you the copies of the
letters I respectively addressed to them, and that will ad-
vance me considerably towards the conclusion of my story,
and put you in possession of my every action, and of every
feeling of my heart.
To
The Right Honorable
The Earl of Moira,
Sfc. $'c. <Sfc,
Hamburg, February 14, 1806.
My Lord,
I hope it will not be disagreeable to your
lordship, that I take the liberty of offering my compli-
ments upon the occasion of your lordship, with so many
other distinguished persons, being called into that situation
which may give your country the full benefit of your
talents and high reputation.
Your lordship will perhaps do mc the honor to recollect
with how much zeal I laboured to be in some degree useful
to your generous efforts in the Irish parliament, in the
year 1797. Since that time I have lived chiefly in prison
or in exile. It would be too long, when your lordship
must have so many important avocations, to detail all I
have suffered since that time; b,ut I pledge myself boldly.
216 MEMOIRS OF
that the friendship which you then favored me with, and
which your lordship may have forgotten, but I have not,
will seem still more merited, when you shall be fully ac-
quainted with the conduct I have opposed to the most un-
just treatment.
In the month of May last, I left Paris to conduct my
family home, and to arrange my affairs previously to my
quitting Europe for the rest of my life, and settling myself
in America. In the month of July, I addressed to lord
Ilawkesbury a request to be permitted to pass over for
that purpose, which I was informed through his majesty's
minister here, had been transmitted to the Irish govern-
ment. But I was also informed by some of my friends,
that the person upon whose influence that condescension
depended, was lord Castlereagh. Yielding to their coun-
sel, I wi'ote to him in December last, but received no an-
swer until a few days ago, that his lordship by a letter
dated the 24th of January, informed me that he had
forwarded my letter to Mr. Long, the chief secretary, but
he could not interfere. I hope, my lord, that when I fe-
licitate my country upon the auspicious call of your lord-
ship to the immediate councils of his majesty, I may ven-
ture to felicitate myself upon the speedy attainment of a
request so little unreasonable, and which my family affairs
render most urgent. I am satisfied that a passport from
the secretary of state in England would answer the inten-
tion of the act of banishment, in which I was included,
and be sufficient authority for my return; trusting that,
under your lordship's protection, if any thing else should
afterwards be thought necessary, it would be obtained.
The tedious delay in this place has been very unfavorable
to my health, and very vexatious to me; and I hope
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 21
a
this will excuse me for pressing for a speedy answer, I
should have written to Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Grattan,
both of whom have witnessed how disinterestedly I have,
in critical times, labored to prevent mischief and to do
good; but I am uncertain whether they may not be called
by their respective offices to Ireland.
I shall beg, that your lordship would have the goodness
to make my humble respects agreeable to the ladies of
your lordship's family, and to let me have the satisfaction
#f owing this kindness to those only whom I most esteem,
J have the honor to be,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most obliged humble servant,
William Sampson.
To
The Right Honorable Henry Grattan*
Hamburg, Valentine's Kamp, JVo. 161*
February 18, 1806.
My dear Sir,, ■
I have by this courier the honor of
writing to Mr. Geo. Ponsonby, to request his interest in
procuring a speedy and favorable answer to an application
of mine, which has been already referred to the Irish gov-
ernment, requesting permission to conduct my family
home, to establish them and settle my affairs, previous to
my going to America. May I request that you will have
Dd
218 MEMOIRS 01?
the goodnc^ i - oanfer with him on this subject, and join
3 oi!] efforts to In , that I may have a speedy answer, as
my health has suffered much in this country, where i have
been delayed since the beginning of last summer. I have
also written to my lord Moira on the same subject, by the
preceding courier. I was in hopes of seeing your name
officially announced as chancellor of the Irish exchequer.
Wfcre I to trust to the news-papers which I have seen this
day, I should suppose that you had refused that place. I
must still flatter myself with the expectation of being
soon permitted to pay my compliments to you on your ac-
ceptance of that or some other station, in which your tal-
ents and upright intentions may be once more beneficial
to your country,
/ am, my dear Sir,
With the highest respect,
Your faithful humble serxnini,
"William Sampson*
To
The Right Honorable Geo. Ponsonhy.
Hamburg, Valentine's Kamp, M. 16i,
February 18, 1806.
Jly dear Sir,
In the beginning of last summer, I left
Paris with my family, my design being to ask permission,
when I should arrive at Hamburg, to accompany them
to their native country, in order to settle my affairs, and
•&i&.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 219
from thence go to America, where I shall in all proba-
bility spend the remainder of my days.
In the month of July I made an application, through
Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resident here; and
he having no answer, I wrote on the first of September, by
the same channel to lord Hawkesbury. The only answer
I had was through Mi*. King to Mr. Thornton, that my
request was to be referred to the Irish government. Not
however hearing further, and following the advice of some
friends, I wrote in the latter end of December to lord
Castlereagh, whose influence, I was told, was decisive.
On the 24th of January, his lordship acknowledged my
letter, declined interfering, but added, that he had taken
an occasion of forwarding my letter to Mr. Long, the
chief secretrry to the Irish government.
Whilst I have the satisfaction to congratulate ray coun-
try on the accession to the confidence of those who, I am
convinced, will make their power the instrument only of
good, and to whom my actions and intentions being better
known will be more fairly judged, I trust that those de-
lays which have already put me to very cruel inconven-
ience, will now cease, and that I shall have, before I
leave my country for the last time, the pleasure of return-
ing my thanks in person, and renewing the expressions of
those sentiments with which I have never ceased to be,
My dear Sir,
Tour faithful and obedient servant,
William Sampson.
From the time these letters were written, until the latter
end of March, I remained, without taking any step, in a
state of suspense and anxiety. To go from that to Anie-
220 MEMOiks ot
rica, arid leave my family in a strange country, under all
the circumstances, was a painful slep to take. Not to re*
ccive even an answer from those whose friendship I
thought due to me, was vexatious enough. My affairs were
not arranged for an emigration for life; in short, my ene-
mies had a very good opportunity of glutting their malicej
for I was surrounded with their spies, of whom they
have numbers every where, but more and more mis-
chievous ones in Hamburg than in most places.
A circumstance now occurs to me, which I shall impart,
from the desire I have to lay my whole conduct and pro-
ceedings open to your view.
An election took place for members of parliament in the
latter end of the summer of 1805. I was then at Altona.
I do not exactly recollect the date-, nor is it worth while
to torment myfelf in searching for it. I have not time to
bestow upon useless minutiae, or difficies nugae. It was*
however, some time before my friends came into power,
that I wrote to a gentleman nearly connected with me,
pointing out to him, that perhaps this occurrence might
afford an opportunity of buying my liberty. You know,
and every body knows, how elections are carried on in
England, and still more in Ireland. How one buyer will
bid above another, as at an auction, and as in the days of
the Saturnalia, the slaves are set free, so here were the
days of the Irish Saturnalia come round. I suggested in
this letter, that in a competition of this kind, it might be
possible to use the combined interests of my friends, as
it was matter of perfect indifference in a political or con-
scientious view, which of two courtiers should represent
ihe people
An honest bargain might be struck: and I truly*" did
WIELIAM SAMPSON. &§,\
think, that if Irish votes for members of an English par-
liament could be sold to redeem an Irishman who had suf*
fered for his country, it was the most legitimate of all
parliamentary traffics. I assured him of my firm belief, that
no person, who persecuted me, did it because he thought
me a bad man; but seeing the favors heaped upon notori-
ous miscreants, that my crime was probably no other than
that of being too honest; and that the onlyjinesse necessary*
was to disguise that a little. I hogged, therefore* of such
friends as loved me, if they saw the thing as I did, to co-
operate in my ransom* by giving their votes to the side
that could stipulate for it. This letter was swindled from
me in Hamburg, and never went to its destination, but is
now, as I have good reason to think, in the hands of some
of the state-secretaries.
If this sentiment should appear Extraordinary to you,
still would that which many Irishmen hold, that in the
present state of our disgrace (opposition being vain) the
best choice would be that of the worst men, in order that
there might be no delusion jnor imposture, and that the
whole system might be uniform and equal. For they say
"Men put not new cloth into old garments."
But to proceed — In the middle of my anxiety about the
next thing I should do, an alarm came that quickened my
steps. The Prussian troops were said to be marching by
concert with Napoleon into the city. They had some
time before occupied the Hamburgese territory at Cuxha-
ven. There was a general consternation, and it became
urgent with me to decide what I should next do. I was a
prisoner of war, but that, though serious enough, was not
the worst; for here I could not expect the same conside-
ration as in Paris, where I had good and powerful friends.;
3 i MEMOIKS or
and where the higher authorities knew, that whatever my
political opinions had been, I bad known how to conduct
myself with discretion and without offence. But to be,
again a prisoner, to be again obliged to go through a pain-
ful course of interrogatories and vouchers, to be again sus-
pected, to be perhaps obliged to quit from necessity that
line of firm independence which I had hitherto preserved,
was a thing to be avoided. And particularly now, when
in, an inhospitable country, I might have something to fear
from malignity, and nothing to expect from justice; for as
I said before, no city was ever more infested than Ham-
burg with the little instruments of corruption and intrigue,
noxious to society, and sometimes ruinous to those who
use them. Little indeed should I have regarded all this
had it concerned myself alone; for I am now taught to
despise my persecutors, and to bear any thing they can
invent; but when I reflected, that for the faithful and inno-
cent partner of my life and my misfortunes, there was no
chance of any benefit in remaining here; but many of
distress, and that for her it was now a matter of necessity
to return with her children where she had friends and pro-
tection, I was not* you may suppose, much at ease.
I went, therefore, to Mr. Thornton, to know whether he
had received any further instructions respecting me. He
had not; but he seemed to take a humane concern in my
hard situation. He offered to take so much upon himself
as to give me a passport to England, and to write imme-
diately to Mr. Fox and explain the grounds upon which he
had done so.
Now it appeared to me, that if the late ministers, whom
I never considered as mv friends, had taken mv case into
consideration or submitted, it to the Irh?h government; if
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. £2*5
they had seemed to require no more than some expressions
of contrition, there could be no difficulty with the present,
for the reasons I have already given. Particularly when
at the head of that ministry appeared that exalted and
benevolent man, in whose noble and generous heart the
vile spirit of persecution never could find a place. I ac-?
cordingly accepted the passport, and made instant dis-
positions for my departure.
But a fresh difficulty arose. The English vessels were
ordered down the river to be under the protection of a
British man of war; and the packets were, it was supposed,
stopped. I asked Mr. Thornton, if he could not add to
the kindness he had shewn me that of procuring a passage
on board of some of the king's vessels, as I conceived that
at all events his dispatches, and all those of the other min-
isters on the continent, must be conveyed. He did net feel
that he could promise me that; but there were several
merchant-men below, and I determined to take my chance;
and at all events, if it was not safe to land with my family
at Cuxhaven, to claim hospitality on board a ship. I had
given a commission to an agent to find some person to join
in the expense of a hoy, and the first person he met with
was Mr. Sparrow, one of the king's messengers, who had
been at Petersburg and all over the north of Europe as a
courier, and happened then to be on his return in great
haste with dispatches from the English minister at Vienna.
He knew very well upon hearing my name, who I was, and
I advised him to ask Mr. Thornton whether he saw anv
impropriety in our travelling together. Mr. Thornton
could see none, and we set out together. When we came,
to Cuxhaven, no packet had arrived, though many were
due; and the packet agent knew no more of the matter than
£*4 MEMOIRS 0¥
we did, and probably was thinking how he would have to
provide for himself when a new order would come. Ap-
plication had been made to the sloop of war to take
charge of the messenger and his dispatches. The other
passengers in the town were endeavoring each for his own
passage, and I with no other vouchers than my passport
as a French prisoner of war, and those of lord Castlereagh
and the duke of Portland, was very likely to remain,
with my wife and two poor infants, as a prize to his
Prussian majesty, into whose service the Irish govern-
ment had, some years before, transported so many of my
miserable countrymen. These unfortunate men were, it
is true, about that time released from their strange bondr
age; but no one, I believe, can say what has since become
of them. A king's cutter had just arrived, and was to
return without coming to anchor. We obtained leave to
go on board, and set out immediately with Mr. Sparrow
and some other gentlemeiie
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 225
LETTE11 XXXI.
EmMrkatiou~-I)angcr~-Journeij to London — Lord Spencer
—Once more imprisoned — Mr. Sparrotc— Governor Pi ^ •
ton.
WE hired a little boat and embarked in her; but
the weather was stormy and the sea ran very high with an
in-blowing wind; and it was so cold, though in the month
of April, that the spray of the sea froze upon us as it fell.
We were close packed in this little boat. I could not
move, for my legs were thrust among the baggage, and the
children were lying shivering upon me, sick and vomit-
ing. When we came along side of the cutter, the boatmen
ran their mast foul of her yard, and but for the dexterity
of the tars, that were in one moment upon the yard cutting
away the rigging that held us, we should have been un«
doubtedly upset. The cutter then came to anchor to favor
us; but as our rigging was cut and our sail split, we had
great difficulty to get on board in the rapid tide, and when
we did it was to run fowl again. This latter accident was
like to be worse than the former; for we hung by the top
of our mast; so that had our boat taken a shear with the
current, we must have been swept out of her or sunk. But
the activity of these good tars once more saved us, and
before we had time to say long prayers they plucked us all
on board. For myself I might have escaped, being, as
you remember, a first rate swimmer; but I question if any
man would desire to save his life, and see all that were
e e
£2$ MEMOIRS OF
dearest to his heart perish in his view. Never in my
life, hut in this moment, did I feel the full effect of terror.
I once spent two days without meat or drink, or any port
to steer for, in a wintry and stormy sea, alone in an open
skiff; hut I would rather pass a hundred such, than endure
(he sudden pang that now shot across my heart. This
was, however, hut a short grief; the officers were kind to
its, and Mr. Sparrow gave up his bed and lay on the cahin
floor. We did not weigh anchor until next morning, and
on the following one we made the English land. Whilst
wc were running along the coast in very thick weather,
we were hailed by an armed brig, French built, and in
the sea phrase, suspicious. Our captain at first hove too;
but as she came nearer and looked more and more suspi-
cious, this hearty Caledonian ladihj damn'd his eyes if he
would stop for her, ordered matches to be lighted, shoved
out his little six pounders, and swore he had known a less
vessel than his beat a damn'd French ****** twice as big:
so all was prepared for an engagement. The brig was
ten times as powerful as we, and we had a fair prospect of
being blown out of water; and my wife, my children and I,
would have had a full share of the glory; but it proved to
be a French built privateer, now turned into an English
cruiser.
Mr. Sparrow landed at Orford-West and proceeded to
London; he promised, as soon as he arrived at the foreign
office, to mention that I was on the way with Mr. Thorn-
ton's passport, and that my intention was to present my-
self immediately on my arrival to Mr. Fox; and with many
hearty entreaties engaged me to go and see him at his
house, when I should arrive in London: We spent that
day and part of the next at Harwich, and next morning
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 227
travelled along as cheerfully as we could, auguring good
from our being unmolested at Harwich, and enjoying- the
pleasures of the country and the season. We slept one
night on the road, and on the third night arrived at Sable
niere's hotel in Lei'ster square.
Towards the close of the evening, I walked with my
son through a variety of streets, and every one brought to
mind some remembrance of the lively scenes of my younger
days, different from my present strange situation: I did
not want matter for reflection.
We had upon our arrival given our names at the LoteJ,
and I had written to Mr. Fox that I was arrived and
waited his commands. Still nobody seemed to mind us.
But as this living on sufferance was not my object, I went
the next morning to the foreign office, and was told that
Mr. Fox was not then to be seen; but that I might return,
and an hour was given me. I returned accordingly, cer-
tain that if the matter depended upon him I should have no
difficulty, but was told that Mr. Fox was gone to the
queen's levy.
I then went to Mr. Sparrow's, and begged of him to
shew me the office of Lord Spencer in Whitehall. He
conducted me there, and after waiting some time I was
admitted. His lordship was standing with his back to
the fire, and at his right hand stood the under secretary.
He was then in mourning for his sister, the duchess cf
Devonshire. I had sometimes seen that charming woman
in the height of her beauty, and remembering her lovely
countenance, expected to have seen something of a resem-
blance in her brother. But not in the least; I saw no
beauty in him, but a very cross face.. I had never been
238 MEMOIRS OF
favored with so near a view of his lordship before, and if
I never should again, I shall not grieve.
I had dressed myself in full black, and put buckles in
lnv shoes, in order to do awav the idea of a sansculotte,
and I made my bow the best I could in the English fashion,
rather stiff, to shew that I was not a Frenchman. But I
had not time to raise myself erect again, until the first
shot went off; and he asked me, in a stern voice, if I knew
what penalties I had incurred by coming over to England?
Now, sir, I found I had to do with the first lord of
the admiralty in good sooth, and that I must stand by for
an overhauling. And though I am a pretty steady hand,
yet I could not hinder this shot to carry away my topping-
lifts and lee-braces; so I was all in the wind. I knew
that let the lamb bleat or not, the wolf will eat him all the
same. So I began a fair discourse, still holding out my
olive-branch.
I said, that if I was not afraid of any penalties, it was
because I had committed no crimes. I rather flattered
myself that the circumstances under which I came, entitled
me to some partiality; and that quitting a position where,
had I only declared myself an enemy, I might have met
with favor, in order to throw myself into the hands of an
administration in which I had put confidence, was to have
taken too good a ground to have any cause of fear. That
I had not come rashly; that I knew that the late adminis-
tration had taken my case into consideration and had not
yet given any decision; that therefore there was but one
of two things, either to anticipate a fair and honorable de-
cision, or to remain an enemy, or at best a prisoner of
war, and be deprived of any benefit from a just decision
when it should arrive; and lastly, that I had a passport
WILLIAM SAMFSOKT. > 229
of the English minister, to whose authority alone I could
look in a foreign country; and that not granted, hut upon
full knowledge of my case and of the exigency of the
moment. That at all events, what I wanted was not a fa-
vor very difficult to grant, namely, to conduct my family
to a place of safety and repose, until I should go and seek
out for a new home and a new country. His lordship an-
swered, that Mr. Thornton had no right to grant me a
passport; but admitted, "that the confusion they were in
in Hamburg, might be some excuse for my coming over."
He said, something sharply, that he knew all my conduct,
and all I had spoken and written, and that he could not
dispense with the law. I must go back or go wherever I
chose, but that he could not let me stay a moment longer
there; and he did not care where I went.
I began now to be satisfied, that nothing was to be
gained, and I only thought of getting through a disagree-
able business as well as 1 could and as speedily; and I
observed, that as I found it was useless to say any more, it
rested now witli him.
You talked of going to America, said his lordship. I
answered that I had; particularly when I found so much
difficulty in getting leave to go home, as to persuade me
that I should have neither pleasure nor security in remain-
ing there. And as there were few countries in Europe not
now at war with England and, such as were not, uninhab-
itable for me, I had no other choice. I might have some-
times flattered myself that time and circumstances had
altered the state of things in Ireland; but from what fell
from his lordship I feared it was not so. You shall go
then, said he, to America; and I made no objection, othej?
250 memoius or
than to insist a little upon the hardship of hcing forced from
my family so suddenly, unprepared.
The under secretary then reminded him, that I should
not be allowed to go without a messenger; and he said he
could not let me have the liberty of going about, unless I
had some one that would answer for me. I replied, that I
had been now so long abroad, that I did not know who
to call upon on the instant; that London had never been
my residence since the time of my studies, which was many
years ago; that I supposed it might be necessary to find
a person at once a friend to me, and known to his lord-
5] •; that I doubted not, in a short time, were I at liberty,
t< ble to offer the very best sureties; but that if I was
a isoner of state, terror might hinder my friends from
coming near me. I however mentioned, that his lordship's
colleague in the ministry and in council, the earl of Moira,
kn v me; that Mr. Geo. Ponsonby (now lord Ponsonby)
knew me, and that Mr. Grattan knew me.
Lord Moira, says his lordship, is out of town; lord Pon-
sonby is chancellor in Ireland. Will Mr. Grattan an-
swer for you? The suggestions of the imagination are
very prompt; and the manner in which lord Spencer ask-
ed this question inclined me to believe, that he already
knew what Mr. Grattan would do, but wished to hear
what I would say.
I said, without the least hesitation, that I could not
answer for Mr. Grattan, nor for any man, after such a
lapse of time, and surrounded as I was by the terrors of
an angry government; that there was no obligation cer-
tainly on Mr. Grattan to answer for me, and his opinions
might he changed even without any fault of mine, for the
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 231
absent are always in the wrong; but that if I was at liberty
I should ask him.
Lord Spencer then said, he must commit me. I begged
of him, that whatever sentiments he might entertain to-
wards me, he would consider the feelings of a wife,
whose virtues and whose sufferings deserved respect; and
that whatever was to take place'might pass in a way least
shocking to her. And fwling how soon another pang was
to be added to those she had already suffered; how much
her heart was set upon the hope of having me once more
at home with her, and the cruel disappointment she was
to suffer — I spoke these last words with emotion. In this
his lordship however did not very graciously partake, but
said in a peevish tone "ft at was all very jine" and then
went behind his table to write my committal. I remem-
ber another of his answers was, that "he was not going
to argue law with me."
The under secretary now observed to me, that I was
irritating his lordship, and conducted me out towards the
messenger's room. My fellow-traveller, Sparrow, was
much dejected at seeing the course this affair had taken.
I sent in a request, that I might be rather committed to
his care than to any other of the messengers, as my wife,
from her acquaintance with him, would be less alarmed.
This was perhaps before intended, and I returned with him
a prisoner to his house. He sent two of his daughters, in
a very delicate manner, to invite Mrs. Sampson to pay
her bill at the hotel, and to come and join me. She readily
understood the hint, and we were now once more prison-
companions, which had not happened for eight or nine
years before. However, it might be said, that in that
time our fortune was mended; for instead of that execrable
2S2 MEMOIRS OE
bridewell* where we were in the year 1798, we were now
in a genteel, well-furnished apartment; and Mrs. Sparrow,
like a good hostess, with a fine family of children, vying
with each other which should do us the most kindness.
If the French proverb, "II n'y a point de belles prisons, ni
dc laides amours" was not too strictly true, this might he
called a pretty prison.
Mr. Sparrow, in doing the honors of it, mentioned that
his last guest had been governor Ficton, who was then
out on bail, and has continued to get free of all charges by
means which I have not learned.
Strange coincidence of circumstances; there is a moral
in every thing. Here was a man who was convicted by an
English jury, of the wanton torture of a young female, in a
manner too shocking to be repeated, enjoying his liberty and
his ease, and laughing at justice. A man who, if we can
believe Col. Fullerton, was charged with nine and twenty
deliberate murders; who had disgraced the English name,
by first introducing the crime of torture into a Spanish
colony, where torture had never been known. He was
protected, if not indemnified, whilst I, whose crime was to
have rebelled against torture, was shut up, doomed to per*
petual exile, torn from my family, betrayed, surrounded
with terror, and overwhelmed with obloquy!
It was signified to me, that I must set off for Falmouth
the following morning. I must bid perhaps an eternal
adieu to those by whom my heart was chieflly linked, to a
miserable world. I wanted time; I wanted preparation of
every kind. I entreated just so much time as might serve
to have an interview with one or two unsuspected friends.
I asked merely to wait until my wife's brother, who was
hastening over, might arrive, and receive her from my
WlILIAM SAMPSON. 233
■
hands. As he was also our agent, I had strong reasons
of interest for desiring to see him, and I asked for nothing
more; and then was ready to depart for ever. All this was
refused; and so great was the hurry to send me out of
London that, after spending five days on the road, I had
near a fortnight to remain at Falmouth before the regular
sailing of the packet. I wrote about this time to Mr. Fox,,
as follows:
To
The Right Honorable Charles James Fox, <§*c. 8{ct
Doxvning-Street, April 21, 18tl6.
Sir,
As this is the last application with which I
shall trouble government, I hope it will be received with
indulgence. I scarcely can state the hardship I have
suffered, without appearing to recriminate. At no time
have I ever been tried, examined or questioned or, to my
knowledge ever specifically accused. I did, it is true, en*
ter into an agreement to expatriate myself; but I solemnly
assert, that my motive was not any personal apprehension,
but the desire of restoring peace and saving bloodshed in
my country. That agreement has been interpreted and
executed too much in the spirit of the times when it was
made. When in fulfilment of it I went to Portugal, I was
again put in prison, and against my will transported vio-
lently into France. The minister then resident in Portu-
gal knows this fact. It is not necessary to say, I have
committed no faults. If I had, they have been secretly
atoned for. But I have no other crimes to answer for,
than those of a heart too warm, and feeling for the misfor.
Ff
i234 MEMOIRS OF
tunes of others. And with respect to treason, no man's
actions ever gave a stronger denial to that charge. Yet
when conciliation is held out to all, I am excluded. My
case is said to have heen investigated, though it is im-
possible to know it but from myself; and my forbearance
to give it publicity, for which I should have credit, turns
to i>iv> disadvantage. I had hoped that all justification of
myself might have been rendered unnecessary by the indul-
gence with which I should have been received, so that I
might have deposited my wrongs upon the altar of con-
ciliation.
One felony I have committed, and one only. I have
left an enemy's country, and with the passport of a British
minister. Conscious of my own honor, and relying upon
an administration on which the public relied for the repa-
ration of many evils, I have thrown myself upon its justice.
Of this crime I now stand charged. For this I am to com-
mence a new exile, and to finish my days far from my na-
tive country, from those to whom I am united, and to
whom I have given existence, without the time to make
one necessary preparation for such a separation.
You, sir, whose mind is as the source of candor and
true wisdom, will feel what is best in such a case. Length
or repetition is useless with you: I fear to have been al-
ready too prolix.
I have the honor to be, Sir,
With the highest respect.
Your faithful humble servant,
William Sampson.
My wife, in the agony of her distress, wrote to him
also, and to several others. She never had an answer,
i
WILLIAM SAMPSOX. 23 5
save from Mr. Fox, so great was the terror that hung
round us; hut that noble, generous man, sinking under
the weight of heavy infirmities, and oppressed with affairs
to which man's strength was not equal, found time to reply
to the voice of an afflicted woman. He strongly interfered
in my behalf. My cause was said, by the news-papers, to
have occupied the deliberations of the privy-council. I
have been told, from great authority, that he who stands
next to royal majesty, did interpose. But the peep-of-day-
boys had seized upon the conscience of the king, and ban-
ished mercy.
I had sent a letter to Mr. Grattan, which was put into
his hands in the house of commons. He never answered
it; but I was willing to excuse this neglect. The terror of
a peep-of -day -boy-government, for it was evidently one
part Fox and three parts peep-of-day-boy, might have im-
posed upon him the necessity of apparent incivility and
unkindness. But I shall say more of him, if time permits,
before this narrative is closed, and shall then explain the
meaning of a peep-qf-day -government; a subject however
that would deserve more time than I can give it.
By the interference of various friends, my departure
was delayed until the latter end of April, and I was per-
mitted to see such friends as chose to come to sec me,
Mr. Sparrow having orders to take down their names and
their abode. Every one made me generous offers of pe-
cuniary service, and of any other I might require. I had
some time before lost an amiable and beloved sister; her
excellent husband, then inconsolable for her loss, came
from Portsmouth to visit me. But the heavy affliction
that hung over him, only served to add weight to my own
cares. I was able, nevertheless* to keep that cheerfulness
23i> MEM0IS9 01
of temper which is the reward of a conscience void of
reproach, until the moment of bidding adieu, and that mo-
ment never will be lost to my remembrance.
Mr. Sparrow and his family withdrew, from delicacy,
and left us to ourselves. We involuntarily grouped to.
gether in a circle. My wife and I stood opposite each
other; our two children, tears in their little eyes, filled
the interval, and beld a hand of each looking at one
and the other in sorrowful anxietv. We bound each
other by the tenderest engagements to cheerful resignation,
and made it the mutual condition of our future love. But
I saw in the eyes of this best of women, that she had little
hopes of seeing me again. And indeed, so infirm was
■uy health, there was but little. Those who know the
state in whicli I arrived at New- York, and the cruel sick-
ness I have since endured, will readily believe me.
I was sent down in a post-chaise with Mr. Sparrow;
and in consideration of my health was allowed to repose
every night. My expense was defrayed by the govern-
ment, and I had certainly nothing to complain of in respect
to the treatment I received. I dined and spent one
evening in a genteel private family, of the acquaintance
of my guide, and arrived on the fifth day at Falmouth.
The onlv thins that I can recollect worth notice on the
road, was a drove of miserable looking people, whom we
met walking bare-footed along, and limping with sore-
ness and fatigue. There were men, women and children;
both men and women had children on their backs, and were
leading others by the hand. I thought that perhaps they
were minors, as we were then, if I recollect, in Cornwall,
but they proved to be of that race which the unfeeling
'all the laxy Irish, who were travelling in search of la-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. &3T
bor and drudgery, in hopes, at the end of their hard cam-
paign, to be able to carry home wherewithal to pay their
tythes, tJieir taxes and their rent.
We met some sailors also, who had been with a whaler
to London. It was a ship that had been three years on a
South Sea voyage. The hands were all impressed in
sight of their native land, where they had hoped, perhaps,
to pour their hard-earned wages into the lap of a joyful
wife; might they not, like me, have children, whose inno-
cent smiles were their delight? Had they not human feel-
ings? And though their hands were hard with labor, their
hearts might be more tender than those they were to serve.
Where is human justice to he found? These unhappy men
were not even suspected, and yet their punishment waa
worse than that of malefactors.
I lived, as I said, near a fortnight in Falmouth, waiting
for the packet. Lord Spencer, the easier to get rid of me,
had sent me at the government expense; and I had received
a letter, informing me from him, that my conveyance to
America was to be defrayed. I therefore had made no
provision. But finding that neither the packet agent nor
the collector, Mr. Pelew, to whom I was consigned, had
any orders, I thought it necessary to write on that head.
And as I had come into England with views of peace, so I
was determined to leave it. I made up my mind to see
every thing in the fairest light, and to avoid every senti-
ment of resentment that could at best serve to ruffle my
own mind and injure my health and happiness. I per-
suaded myself that lord Spencer had not meant unkindly,
and at all events I owed him the same gratitude that the
crane owed to the fox, who had his head in his mouth and
did not bite it off: I therefore mentioned to him, that al-
258 MEMOIRS OF
though I could not Conceive why the government should
have thought it necessary to proceed so harshly, yet that
i was sensible of the handsome manner in which I had
been so far conveyed, and hoped it would continue to the
end of my voyage. I shall presently state to you with
caudor, how far it did and how far it did not.
I was so far indulged during my stay in Falmouth, as to
be allowed to walk with my conductor through the fields,
along the rocks, or w herever fancy led. And besides that,
the inhabitants of this little town had a certain character of
benevolence, that it is remarkable for the simple rustic
hr raity of its women, there was a circumstance which gave
it still more interest in my imagination; for nearly twenty
years ago, when full of the ardor of youth, I was proceed-
ing on my first voyage to America, by invitation of my
uncle, colonel Sampson, to inherit a pretty rich estate
which he possessed in that county 6f North- Carolina,
which still bears his name, and was put, by adverse
winds, into this very port. During several weeks that I
was detained, my delight had been to explore the wild
beauties of the country. It was in one of my excursions
through the same grounds that my imagination, com-
paring the present with the past, seemed to have caught
its former tone of youth, and I meditated a few Stanzas,
which I committed with my pencil to writing, as opportu-
nity served. I say the tone of youth, because such trifling
belongs only of right to that season of life. And whatever
little talent I might once have had for versifying, I have
since my maturer years, considered the twisting of word?
as a frivolous pastime. But every thing was now legiti-
mate that could amuse or dissipate.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 239
HOPE AND THE EXILE.
A VISION.
IN the far verge of Britain's isle,
Captive, on a rocky steep,
I laid me down, and mus'd the while,
Gazing o'er the silent deep.
Behind me lay that Iron land,
Where tyrants hold their gloomy sway;
Oppos'd was Gallia's glittering strand,
Where despots smile, and slaves look gay.
Westward stretch'd the wat'ry waste.
That washes the Columbian shore;
And there, an emerald enchas'd
That isle I'm doom'd to see no more.
Farewell, ye scenes of smiling youth,
Where memory delights to rove;
Farewell, ye friends, allied by truth,
By worth, by honor, to my love.
With winds of air, the ardent steed
Darts from the goal — is lost to sight;
More rapid is the arrow's speed,
That can arrest the lapwing's flight.
£40 MEMOIRS OF
Swifter is sound to wound the ear;
Yet where the angry bullet flics,
Long- e'er the slow report draws near,
Fate's work is sped — the victim dies.
But courser, arrow from the bow,
The unseen ball, nor beam of light,
Shot from the star of day, can go
So quick as magic fancy's flight.
The winds their hollow caverns rend,
The swelling waters burst their bounds;
And fire for freedom will contend
Against the weight of earthly mounds.
Yet all these elements combin'd
To rack the globe, have no such force,.
As the free quality of mind,
From corp'ral bondage to divorce.
And I, in momentary trance,
With fancy's raptur-'d eye could see
More in tlfe compass of one glance,
Than in whole years when I was free.
For all at once, before mine eye,
A fancy form there did appear;
But whether issuing from the sky,
The earth, or sea, it was not clear.
With graceful step I saw her move;
I felt her charms my heart beguile;
Soft as the breathing lute of love
Her voice; like the young morn her smile-
WH.1IAM SAMPSON. 241
"Twas not that smile of venom'd dart,
Whose power above all soft controul,
Still wounds most deep the teuderest heart.
And kindles trouble in the soul.
She was not love and beauty's queen,
But sister like, so fair, so bright;
Less fire might in her eyes be seen,
But nothing less of beamy light.
Those Seraph eyes she fix'd on mine,
As she would read them thro' and thro*;
Yet was their aspect so benign,
That I could dwell upon their view.
Is hopeless love, she said, thy care
That here all silent and alone,
Thou seem'st to woo the vagrant air
And to th' unpitying waters moan?
•3
Or by the ruthless hand of fate,
Some friend or kindred hast thou lost,
Or been by destiny of late,
In fortune, or in honor, cross'd?
Those days, bright nymph! are past and gonr,
When I with love's hot flame did burn;
Long I have love's soft empire known,
But happy love, and kind return.
And friends and kindred tho' I've lost,
Whom my sad heart must ever mourn;
Yet not for them, nor fortunes cross'd.
Here am I silent and forlorn.
*4;2 MEMOIRS 01
Some foul ingratitude has then,
The current of thy spirits mov'd;
For nothing grieves the souls of men
Like base return from those they lov'd.
Or else some lingering disease,
Within thy frame deep-rooted lies:
A vulture on the heart that preys,
Dire source of never ending sighs.
Ingratitude at times, to own,
Must he the fate of al! that live;
Tet friends of thrice tri'd faith I've known:
The false I pity and forgive.
And though the hand of mortal pain
Bows me beneath its wasting grief;
Ne'er vet in lamentations vain.
Nor idle plaints, I sought relief.
Then for some dark and hidden crime.
Of which thy soul doth now relent;
Thou hast been stricken in thy prime,
And doom'd to sorrow and repent!
Oh thou, than spring-time flowers more fair;
More beauteous than the rosy morn;
Whose breath embalms the circling air,
Why waste that breath] inj words of scorn?
And were I stain'd with crimes so fell,
As silent thought could not endure.
What power, deep art, or magic spell,
Hadst thou the sting of guilt to cure*
WILLIAM SAMPSOK. 243
Mine is that power, that magic spell,
To cheat the wretched of his pain;
The guilty from the verge of hell,
To raise to heaven and light again.
Then hie thee to those men of hlood,
Whose crimes my innocence attest;
Go, bid them seek their country's good.
And in that virtue yet be blest.
Say, in the verge of Britain's isle,
A captive on a rocky steep,
Did lay him down, and muse the while,
Gazing o'er the sullen deep.
Who would not change one lonely hour
Of melancholy rapture there,
For all their ill-got wealth and power,
Their abject thoughts, their guilty care.
And now I know thee, nymph, full sure,
For as when watery vapours rise,
Which heaven's pure azure did obscure,
And dimm'd the beauties of the skies.
So memory, which long had lain
Envelop'd in oblivious cloud,
Withdraws her misty veil again,
HOPE'S new-born image to unshroud.
it is even now the twentieth year,
Since watching for a favoring gale,
This cliff I sought — thou didst appear,
And cheat me with a flattering tale.
-44 MJ&MOU&S OF .
Oh! 'twas a vision, fair and bright,
A dream my youthful sense that stole,
Thro' fields of glory, paths of light,
And joys that thrill'd upon the soid.
Oh! 'twas a vision, wildly sweet,
My brows with bays and myrtle crown'd;
Gay flow'rets springing at my feet,
And loves and graces dancing round.
Oh! 'twas a sweet bewildering dream,
To see chaste Pho&be's silvery light;
Dance to the murmurs of the stream,
That winds round Hemus'\ shadowey height.
But it was false, as thou art fail*,
And thou art false, as it was vain;
• io, mimic form, light thing of air,
Nor tempt me with thy smiles again.
True on this sea-worn point of land,
I often rest, and often here,
To the poor sailor wave my wand,
And bid him sing of gallant cheer.
\nd when the swelling canvas flows,
And floats upon the wanton wind;
Bid him, to foreign climes that goes,
To trust in those he left behind.
And, thankless man, hast thou forgot,
How often in thy loneliest hours;
Fair flower;/ wreaths for thee I've wrought,
And wrai/d thee in elysian bowers.
t A mountain of Thrace, sacred to Apollo and the Muses.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 245
When tlwe rude wave, and wint'ry blast
Of mortal dangers made their sport,
Have I not sat upon the mast,
To waft thee to a friendly port?
When deep, sequester'd and forlorn,
And buried in the dungeon's gloom,
Have I not taught thy soul to scorn
TV assassin's steel, the tyrant's doom?
And when with sickness, worn and wan,
Death's ugly terrors thou couldst brave,
'Twas I, when earthly joys were gone,
That shew'd thee life beyond the grave.
Spirit of comfort! now I see
Thou still art kind; and from this hour
I swear for evermore to be
The willing vassal of thy power!
Say then but this; shall yon green isle,
Which dearer is than life to me,
Be ever bless'd with fortune's smile,
Be ever happy, ever free?
Those words I spake with downcast eyes,
Fearing to hear what she might say,
I rais'd them up, and to the skies
The fairy phantom wing'd her way.
Thus may you see how pliable and versatile is the human
mind. How many sources of consolation the Creator lias
bestowed, were men but wise enough to seek them. And
I. can assure you, with truth, that often, during my long
C-*'J ME MOi;;- of
exile, retiring wit7ii;i myself, in the gloom of solitude orfn
the silence of the night, I have passed some of the most
delicious moments of my existence; so strong a shield
against misfortune is an unsullcd conscience. As at this
time there was nothing in the personal treatment I receiv-
ed that had any tendency to sour me; so I encouraged
every agreeable idea that presented itself. I had several
instruments of music, and I had a port-folio, with some
implements for drawing; and in Falmouth I made a
portrait of my guardian in Crayon, with his greyhound
(the badge of his office) which at the same time served as
an occupation for me, and a compliment in return for his
civilities. He had it framed on his return, and hung up in
his parlour.
It has heen said hy the first of poets, "Seldom has the
steel" d gaoler heen the friend of man." But here was one,
however strict in the execution of his office, who had a
tender heart. He once, with tears in his eyes, hegged of
me to accept from him a hundred pounds, which he laid
down before me; and in order to refuse, without wounding
him, I was obliged to assure him that I was nearly as
rich as himself; and reminded him, that in the mean time
that the- government was good enough to treat us both,
and applied the words of the poet:
"He that doth the ravens feed,
Doth cater for the sparrow and the dove."
My wife continued to lodge with Mrs. Sparrow until her
leaving London, long after I had sailed; so much reason
had she to be contented with her entertainment.
On the 12th of May, I was conducted on board the
Windsor Castle packet, and set sail with a fair wind for
the city <-.r New-York.
WIIXIAM SAMPSOX. 247
The society of a fellow-passenger, captain Davy, of the
39th regiment, and the politeness of captain Sutton, of
which I cannot say too much, rendered the former part
of the voyage agreeable; but during the latter part the
weather was bad, and my health began again to decline.
During the few days we staid at Halifax, I was forbid-
den to go on shore, which mortified my curiosity more
than my pride, and I suppose was intended as a mortifica-
tion; for the most narrow suspicion or contemptible jeal-
ousy could scarcely imagine any mischief I could do,
were I ever so inclined.
On the 4th of July, a day ever memorable in the annals
of America, I arrived in the waters of the Hudson, but I
did not reach the city until most of its inhabitants had re-
tired to rest. And now that my travels are at an end,
that I am at length arrived in a land of peace and liberty,
let us for awhile repose.
I shall shortly take up my pen again, to give such an-
swer as I can to that serious question, "the true causes of
the wretchedness and troubles in Ireland;" but not with-
out the disquieting apprehension, that those troubles and
that wretchedness may be revived, even whilst my pen runs
on. The view I shall take of this mournful subject shall
be rapid, for the time I have to bestow upon it is short.
I shall attempt nothing but the outlines and principal re-
sults. If they should awake your soul to sympathy, and
stimulate your curiosity to further enquiry, they will have
answered a good end. If they can reclaim you or any
good man from delusion, on a subject at this juncture infi-
nitely important, and eminently connected with the welfare
of the human race, I shall not have written in vain. If
I should once prevail so fer, I shall then earnestly recom-
218 MEMOIRS O*
mend to your perusal the work of Mr. Plowden, which,
however undigested, and perhaps faulty in point of in-
duction, is yet, considering the short time in which it was
compiled, and the many disadvantages of writing such a
history, a monument of everlasting honor to the abilities
and integrity of its author.
LETTER XXXII.
Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — A brief Rcxiew of Irish
History.
IN what manner to treat this subject; how to wade
through oceans of iniquity and bloodshed; how to relate
the long uninterrupted calamities of the most oppressed of
nations; if there be any way of passing over this without
sinking the mind into the gloom of tragedy, let us seek
it; for my heart has already bled enough. Let us rather
travel lightly over the vantage grounds of this history than
descend into the dismal vale of death!
Perhaps, if the feelings of generous indignation could
be so far subdued, the most beneficial moral that could be
extracted from the Anglo-Irish tyranny, would be its ab-
surdity. There are men of ambition so depraved, who
would rejoice to be called wicked, if with that they could
appear what the corruptions of the world, and the servility
of historians have denominated great. But these same
men would never have courage to consummate their
crimes, were they taught that these crimes would render
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 249
them contemptible, and still more, ridiculous. Let us
then, I pray you, take that view which may be most use-
ful, and will be least dispiriting. Give me your hand;
let us call this an historical ramble; let us avoid all te-
dious method and detail; and if there be few flowers, let us
cull the fruit.
Irish Antiquity — Jin Historical Ramble.
I often wonder why men set so much Value upon
ancestry. For as all moralists agree, that frand and vio-
lence prevail in this life over gentleness and virtue; so to
say that we had great ancestors, is too often the same as
Jo say, that we descend from great knaves. However, if
it be a boast, the Irish, like other nations, have their ori-
gin in the clouds. I respect the researches of antiqua-
rians, because they open interesting prospects of human
things, enlarge our narrow views, and are auxiliaries to
philosophy and truth. But as to any view of civil polity,
or any right one nation has to usurp upon another, because
it is more, ancient, they are absurd. Indeed the antiquity
claimed by the Indians and other nations of the East, are
good arguments to silence all who can make no preten-
tions beyond the creation. Therefore, our business is to
skip at once over the creation and the deluge, and begin
where profit begins.
One historian has made of Ireland, the Ogyges, the Z77-
iima Thule, the Island of Calypso, and more, which I have
forgotten: I have only my frail memory to consult.
Hh
V
250 MEMOIRS Of
Of the origin, of the Jfilesian Race, and the Irish
Language.
Before I enter upon this important office of
tracing the descent of the Irish monarchs, I will, as the
historian's titles may reflect upon his works, proffer my
own more moddest claims of ancestry.
It is some years since one of my uncles delivered to the
dowager Lady Moira, a pedigree authenticated by the Her-
ald's office, wherein our line was traced through Joseph
of Aramathea. How much higher it went I do not remem-
ber; but as that ancestor may stand well with Jew or Gen-
tile, I am not too proud to abide by him, if you think it
dignity sufficient to qualify me to be the herald of thtf
Irish kings.
For the same good reason that we skipped over the
creation, and jumped across the deluge, we will, with
your leave, pass by the Farthalonians, Nemedes, Belgians,
Dannonians, Galenians and Davans, all Asiatic Scythians,
as they say, who arrived at different times; when, I will not
declare; nor indeed if I would, could I..
Blessed be the time when the Bards got leave to sing
their histories, and accompany them with their harps; the
music helped the story; for as Figaro says, "what is not
good enough to be said, will do very well to sing." If I
could play this over with my fiddle, how easy would it be.
But we that undertake to be historians now-a-days,
must write in straight prose line, and keep our balance
like rope-dancers; for if we make a false step, there am.
more to laugh at than to pity us. We must therefore steer
•-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 251
between Scylla and Charibdis. We must avoid on the
one hand that gross and indolent ignorance which, too
dull and too lazy to examine and compare, finds it shorter
to deny and contradict. On the other hand, we must
avoid that more amiable folly of enlightened credulity,
which sins through the too passionate love of discovery
and research.
The following account of the Milesian race is pretty
fully substantiated: Near one thousand years before
Christ, three sons of Milesius, Heber, Eremon and Ith,
came with a colony from Gallicia in Spain, into Ireland.
And from thence were descended the great monarchs of
Ireland. These Milesians were of Scythian origin, their
ancestors having migrated to PhoBnicia; the Phoenicians
having, as every body knows, founded Carthage, and
these Carthagenians having gone to the maritime coast of
Spain, came from thence into Ireland.
Colonel Valancy has proved this Carthagenian origin in
a variety of ways. Two of them principally I can call to
mind. First, the arms and armour dug up in Ireland, of
which the form and composition are evidently Carthageni-
an; and secondly, the language, which he has shewn to be
the same, and produced some lines of Carthagenian and
Irish where there is not the variation of a syllable; and
this opinion is sanctioned by Sir Laurence Parsons.
Col. Valancy also shews, that the speech ofHanno, Ihe Car-
thagenian, in the play of Plautus, entitled Penulus, is Irish.
I have this day laid my hand by chance upon the second
volume of Plautus Taubmanni; and in the first scene of the
fifth act of that play, I find it asserted,! that Casaiibonusi.
tNotis. JPxnorum autem idioma syriaco tractum docet
Casaubonus ad suet.
252 MEMOIRS OF
affirmed to Suetonius, that the idiom of the Carthagenians
was derived from the Syriac. And in another note upon
tiic words rthalonim Walonith (gods and goddesses) they
are said to be the same as Ethelijonim Vaholjonoth.
Superos Super usque (Beos Beasque.J And Joseph, Scaligerf
in his epistle to Stephan. Ubertas, says, "that -)■ this Punk
dialect of Plautus, is little different from pure Hebrew
And it is asserted on the same authorities, that \ the lan-
guage of the bible is falsely denominated Hebrew, being
Syriac, and the opinion of TVilhel. Postellus, agrees with
that of Scaliger.
Sir William Jones has discovered, that the Shanscrite
is the same as the Persee, or ancient Persian; supposes
all those oriental dialects to be of one language. The
Scots, Scoti, Scuyti — Skuthoi, or Scythians, are a colony
of these Milesians. That they are of the same origin
there is no doubt, for the Scotch highlanders can at this
dav converse with the Irish without any difficulty, and the
dispute is not yet settled to which of them the poem of
Ossian is due. This native Irish, which is the Gaedhlic
or Scotic, is the purest dialect of the ancient Celtic. The
Welsh is also a dialect of it. What its influence was upon
the sentiments of the heart, is proved from this, that Ed-
ward the First was obliged to destroy the Welch Bards,
by throwing them down their rocks in the sea, before he
could subdue their country.
The barbarity of the English, the Danes and Normans,
in destroying all the monuments of Scotch, Irish or Welsh
fPlautinx P<enoli dialectus parum abest a puritate Hebra-
ismi.
\ Lincrua quam Habraicam vocamus & qua utuntur sacra,
sacra biblia falso eo nomine nobis appellatuv cum sit Phsnicia>
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 25°
antiquity, has robbed the philosopher, if not the divine, of
many a precious light. At all events, this wonderful affin-
ity between Irish, Scythian, Scotch, Carthagenian, Welsh,
Hebrew, Syriac, Persian, Shanscritc and other ancient
dialects, is a strong and interesting proof of holy writ; as
it goes to prove, that at one time there was a universal
language. But the use I shall make of it is, to shew the
ignorant and provoking insults winch the English have
heaped upon the Irish, not only in the times of their own
barbarity; but since letters had made progress among
them. When Queen Elizabeth founded Trinity College,
she would have had an Irish professor, but lord Burleigh
dissuaded her, saying, it was a barbarous language, and
repeated illiberally some phrase which he pretended was
Irish; but which evidently was nonsense, and perhaps awk-
ward enough in his mouth. You may remember it in
Hume's history of England. The English of it, accord-
ing to this historian, is, that "the white ox eat the black
Now upon the same illiberal scheme, if any queen, for
instance queen Dido, who spoke good Phoenician, wished
to have an English professor, and one of her favorites was
to pronounce to her even in the courtliest manner,
•'Length, breadth, wedth, strength, thickness, thankful-
ness" and so forth, would it not shock the delicate ears of
the queen, and damn the professor? Yet it would not be
so unfair as to say that "the white ox cat the black egg!"
When we consider that the Irish vernacular tongue was
to be traced with little corruption to the highest antiquity,
and identified with holy writ, there is something con-
temptibly stupid in this manner of treating it, and more so
when we consider that the language of the English, al-
'254 MBMOUIS OF
though long spoken by one of the first and the most
learned nations of Europe, to the polish of which Par-
Jiell, Brook, the Sheridans, Burke, Goldsmith, Sterne,
Swift, O'Lcary, and a multitude of other Irishmen, have
. ontributed so much, cannot yet be reduced to any rules of
grammar, or spoken or written with any ordinary perspi-
cuity. Look into an act of parliament where precision is
necessary, or into a legal conveyance, and read the
"ickcresoexcrs and wliensoevers that abound; the he's, the
she's, and the theifs; the any manner of person or persons,
thing or things, and such paraphrases and amplifications,
which never could be necessary in a language possessing
either concord or inflexion; and the crude origin and con-
struction of which, taste, learning or genius, has not been
able to reform. Indeed, some of the very acts of parlia-
ment, enacting penalties against those that spake Irish, or
dwelt amongst the Irishry, are such a queer compound of
Danish, Norman, hog-latin, and I dont know what, as to
be the most biting satires upon the Englishry and those
chat spoke English. For we must acknowledge, that
whatever our ancestors, the Irish, were in the time of
Strongbow, our ancestors, the English, were clumsy enough.
You recollect it was about that time that the luxurious
Thomas A. Becket was impeached for strewing his floors
with green rushes and other such effeminacies; and it is--
an authentic fact, that as late as that, our ancestors, the
English, sold their children and their pregnant wives, to
our ancestors, the Irish, for slaves. The market was
held where now stands the great city of Liverpool. Some
traces of wive-selling still exist in England.
WIULIAM SAMPSOX, 255
Ancient Civilization of the Irish.
The proofs of ancient civilisation in Ireland are many,
and that it was resorted to as a sanctuary of letters and
learning, when other nations, now the most advanced, were
gfemi-barharous. Its remote situation might have favored
it in this respect, by protecting it from the inroads of pi-
rates and invaders. At the council of Constance, the
English ambassadors were only admitted in right of Ire-
land, as a nation of higher and more ancient rank; for
England had been conquered, they said, by the Romans,
and was part of the empire. King Alfred, according to
Venerable Bede, was educated in Ireland; and the Angle-
Saxon, king Oswald, applied to Ireland for learned men to
teach his people Christianity. Henrick, of St. Germain,
in the reign of Charles the bald, says of the Irish, ''Al-
most the whole nation, despising the dangers of the sea,
resort to our coasts with a numerous train of philosophers."
And in a tapestry at Versailles, representing Charle-
magne, amongst the kings in friendship with him, there-
was a king of Ireland with his harp. There is a harp in
Trinity College, Dublin, said to be as old as Brian Boi-
rume, who fell in the battle of Clontarf, anno. 1014. This
liarp and their ancient music are very curious and indis-
putable proofs, as no instrument known to the ancient
nations had the same number of strings; nor was the
counterpoint or harmony known to them, nor is there any
vestige of it until of very late date, in Italy or Germany,
the modern schools of music.
Gerald Barry, called Geroldas Cambrensis, employed by
Henry II. to vilify the Irish, could not resist the charna
256 MEMOIRS OF
of their music., and endeavors to describe the effect of a
treble atid base in a way that proves it was new to him,
I speaks in admiration of the manner in which the sub-
in their music was sometimes transferred to the lower
Btrii *s, and then, after many delightful modulations, arose
out of its sweet confusion, and became distinct above.
I have not the book, otherwise I could cite the passage.
King James also is said to have boasted his Irish origin;
and king James had the pride of ancestry.
The great epoch of Irish civilization appears to be the
reign of Ollam Fodlha, according to Keating, about 950
years before the Christian rera. It was he who instituted
the great council of Fes of Teamor or Tar ah, consisting
of Druids and other learned men, representatives of the
nation. He is said to have been a great prince and law-
giver; and in the magnificent accounts of that assembly
are the first traces of Irish history.
But the fairest proof is, the easy reception the gospel
met with in the fifth century, when St. Patrick, a Skuthos
or Scot, sent by Pope Celestin to preach Christianity. So
much did that mild religion coincide with the sentiments
of the Irish that, what never happened in any other coun-
try, it was enforced by persuasion alone, and without the
shedding of one drop of blood. And five years after St.
Patrick opened his mission, so hospitably was he received,
that he was summoned to the grand council at Tarah, as
we should say in modern phrase, made a member of par-
liament, and put upon a committee of nine, to reform the
civil history, and make it useful to posterity.
There are abundant other proofs, but they are too long.,
I am sorry, however, to say, that whatever their ancient
• ivilization might be, there are too good proofs of their
WI1LIAM SAMPSON. £57
degeneracy at the time of which we are now about to
tr For it appears that the people were in a servile
state, and that they had one principal king, four or five
inferior ones, and in all sixty, who had sovereign authori-
ty. When we think of their long torment under one king,
sixty seems an intolerable number!
Character of the Irish, from English Historians.
It is a hard law upon every Irishman who would treat
of his own country affairs, that in order to gain belief he
must say only what an Englishman has said before him:
That is, he must speak with the tongue of the enemy.
A simple author, speaking of one of the rebellions, uses
this pathetic observation: "Every Englishman who fell,
died with twenty tongues in his mouth. But when the
Irishman fell, he never spake more.'*
This way of writing, like Lazarus begging the crumbs
that fell from the rich man's table, is not to my mind; yet
I shall adopt it rather than expose myself to be set down
for an enthusiast. Cambden, in his Britannia, p. 680, says
of the Irish,f that "they are courageous, ingenious, re-
t "Bellicosi sunt, ingeniosi, corporum lineamentis con^
spicui, mirifica carnis mollitie, et propter musculorum teneri-
tudinem agilitate incredibili." And (p. 789) "In universum
gens hsc corpore valida et imprimis agilis, ammo forti et ela-
to, ingenio acri, bellicosa, vitse prcdiga, laboris frigoris et in-
edia: patiens, veneri indulgens, hospitibus perbenigna, amore
constans, inimicitiis implacabilis, credulitate levis, gloria avi-
da, contumeliae et injuria impatiens, et ut inquit ille olim>
ijx omnes actus vehementissima."
ii
J
238 MEMOIRS OV
inarkable for the beauty of their persons, of wonderfully
fine complexion and, owing to the flexibility of their mus-
cles, of great agility." And in p. 789: "These people are
all endowed with vigor of body, strong and lofty minds, and
acute genius. They are warlike, dauntless, patient of fa
tigue, cold and hunger, amorous, benevolently hospitable
Constant in love, implacable in hatred, unsuspecting, pas-
sionate for glory, and ardent in all their pursuits.'*
Finglass, chief-baron of the exchequer, in the time of
Henry VIII, says, "That the English statutes, passed in
Ireland, are not observed eight days after passing them;
whereas those laws and statutes made by the Irish on their
hills, they keep firm and stable without breaking them for
any favor or reward."
Sir John Davies who, as Mr. Plowden observes, had
still better opportunity of knowing the Irish, being the
first justice that ventured on circuits out of the English
pale, says, "That there is no nation under the sun that
love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish; or
will rest better satisfied with the execution thereof, when
upon a just cause they do desire it, although it be against
themselves." Now, this from an English enemy, for so
he was at the end of a bloody war of fifteen years, is pret-
ty strong testimony. Yet this same author, who had been
attorney-general in Ireland, in James's reign, says, that
the multitude were "brayed as it were in a mortar." And
it was he who went so far as to recommend "the maistering
the Irish by the sxvord, and breaking them by warre, in or-
der to make them capable of obedience and good seede." Now,
what could be the use of braying the multitude in a mortar,
maistering them by the sword, or breaking them by warre,
if they were so contented with equal and indifferent justice,
WILLIAM SAMPSOJf. 25$-
even when it was against themselves? Would they not have
been as capable of good seede, if they had not been brayed
in the mortar, but favored with indifferent justice against
themselves? But then they would have been content! And
it shall be my business to shew you, that that never was
the wish of the English, or of the Anglo-Irish. And
since we are upon the subject of this attorney-general, it
may be as well to quote him now to this purpose, though
we shall have occasion presently to refer to him again for
another. In his discovery of the true causes why Ireland
•was never entirely subdued, part 1st. he says "During the
time of my service in Ireland (which began in the first year
of his majesty's raigne) I have visited all the provinces of
that kingdome, in sundry journies and circuits; wherein I
have observed the good temperature of the ayre; the fruit-
fulness of the soyle; the pleasant and commodious seats for
habitation; the safe and large ports and havens, lying open
for trafficke into all west parts of the world; the long inlets
of many navigable rivers; and so many great lakes and
fresh ponds within the lands, as the like arc not to be
seene in any part of Europe; the rich fishings, and wilde
fowle of all kinds; and lastly, the bodies and minds of the
people, endued with extraordinary abilities of nature,"
Now, in this fruitfulness of the soil, these fishing and
hunting grounds, and "these commodious seats for habita-
tions," lay the whole mystery, why "the multitude were
brayed in the mortar," maistered by the sword, and
broken by warre, and deprived of every benefit of justice,
save her sword; for of that attribute, justice has not been
niggardly towards them. Now, my friend, keep these
"commodious seals for habitations" in your eye, and you
260 memoirs or
will have the master-key of the history, and understand
tlie whole.
I shall just .subjoin the testimony of the learned Sir
Edward Cooke, 4 Inst. 34®.
"For," Bays he, "I have heen informed, by many of
• ban that have had judicial places there, and partly of
mine own knowledge, that there is no nation of the Chris-
tian world that are greater lovers of justice than they are,
which virtue must of necessity be accompanied with many
others."
So much for the country and character of the Irish-
Such a country, and such a people, ought to constitute an
earthly Paradise. Yet has it been, for six or seven centu-
ries, the pre-eminent abode of misery. Before we enter
upon the unfortunate epoch of English invasion, and all
the curses entailed by our English ancestors upon our Irish
ancesters, let us make ourselves a little acquainted with
our English ancestors; it will not be tedious. There is
little in any author concerning them before C»sar, who,
in bis history de Bello Gallico, describes them thus: After
excepting the men of Kent, whom he states to be more
civilized, he continues: fThose of the interior sow no
corn, but live on milk and flesh, and cover themselves with
skins, and dye themselves with woad, which gives them a
t Interos plerique frumenta non serunt, sed lacte 8c carne
vivunt: pellibusque sunt vestiti. Omnes vero se Bntanni vi-
tro inficiunt, quod cseruleum efficit colorem; atque hoc horri-
b'liore sunt in pugna adspectu: capilloque sunt promisso;
atque omni parte corporis rasa, przter caput Sc labrum supe-
rius Uxores habent deni duodenique inter se communes; &
xnaxime fratres cum fratribus, Sc parentes cum liberis: sed si
qui sunt ex bis nati, eorum habentur liberi, a quibus plurimum
Tirgines qusque ducts sunt.
WILLIAM SAMrSOX. £61
sky-blue colour; ("cerulwm colorem"J and makes them
more horrible in battle. They wear their hair about their
ears, and shave all but the head and the upper lip. Ten or
twelve of them take their wives in common, and generally
brothers go with brothers, and children with their parents;
and those who have had most to do with the virgins, are
reputed the fathers of the children!
Now what do you say to our sky-blue ancestors? Were
they painted for tear, or not?
And may not this be the reason that their descendants,
notwithstanding their mixture with Danes, Saxons and
Normans, have never got rid of this blue tinge, and are
still said to be the nation of the Blue Devils?
Horace represents them as a nation of aliens or foreign-
ers in the universe, and calls them "Fenitus toto disjunctos
orbe Britannos." If this was not true, in fact, when
Horace wrote it, it was a true prophecy; for though they
have pretended that the Irish patriots would be received in
no country, it is they themselves who are now in that pre-
dicament. There is scarcely a nation with whom they
are not in hostility; not even their Antipodes, the Chinese.
But it is time, having brought both parties into court, to
give them a day, and make a short adjournment of the
cause.
26& MEMOIRS OF
LETTER XXXIII.'
Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our English
Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of the DIS-
PUTE.
THE first visit or visitation of our English an-
cestors to our Irish ancestors, came about in this manner:
O'Rourke, king of Breffiny, went upon a pilgrimage; bet-
ter he had staid at home; for Dermod M'Murrogh, king of
Leinster (Oh these kings!) carried off his wife in his ab-
sence; and this was about the year 1166, as near as I can
learn. Roderick O'Conner \xas master-king of all Ire-
land, and the poor pilgrim applied to Roderick for his pro-
tection. The adulterer went with his story to king Henry
the second; and the Plantagenet king who was then in
Aquatine, in France, (God knows what his own wife was
about then) took the part of the adulterer against the pil-
grim, and applied to the pope. And the pope (Adrian)
who was an Englishman, took the part of the English
king and the adulterer, against the Irish king and the
pilgrim, and so the dispute began. The English pope A-
drian gave a Bull to the English king Henry, worse than
any Irish Bull, and granted him "all Ireland," be the same
more or less, in consideration of natural love and affection,
the pilgrim and the pilgrim's wife to the contrary in any
wise notwithstanding. And he ordered the Irish to re-
ceive this English king honorably, and reverence him as
their lord. With this monstrous bull, and five hundred
WitLIAM SAMPgOK, £63
men besides, he came and formed, with little opposition, a
settlement which they called the English pale, having first
cantoned out the whole island to ten men, and so began
that dispute f
"Never ending, still beginning,
"Fighting still, and still destroying."
Which has since deluged this unfortunate country in
blood, with little intermission, for near seven hundred
years.
How the Irish reverenced the English king, and what
cause they had, appears from a remonstrance to Pope John
XXII. in the reign of Edward II. as follows:
Extracts from the Irish Remonstrance ,
to Fope John XXII.
« It is extremely painful to us, that the viperous de-
tractions of slanderous Englishmen, and their iniquitous
Suggestions against the defenders of our rights, should ex-
asperate your holiness against the Irish nation. But alas,
you know us only by the misrepresentation of our enemies,
and you are exposed to the danger of adopting the infa-
mous falsehoods which they propagate, without hearing
any thing of the detestible cruelties they have committed
against our ancestors, and continue to commit even to this
day against ourselves. Heaven forbid, that your holiness
•should be thus misguided; and it is to protect our unfortu-
nate people from such a calamity, that we have resolved
here to give you a faithful account of the present state of
our kingdom; if indeed a kingdom we can call the mclan-
choly remains of a nation, that so long groans under the
tyranny of the kings of England and of their barons, some
»f whom, though born among us, continue to practice the
06*4 MEMOIRS OF
same rapine and cruelties against us. which their ances-
tors did against ours heretofore. We shall speak nothing
but the truth, and we hope that your holiness will not delay
to inflict condign punishment on the authors and abettors
of such inhuman calamities.
"Know then, that our forefathers came from Spain, and
our chief apostle, St. Patrick, sent by your predecessor,
Pope Cclestin, in the year of our Lord 435, did, by the in-
spiration of the Holy Ghost, most effectually teach us the
truth of the Holy Roman Catholic faith, that was preach-
ed to them, have, in number sixty -one, without any mix-
ture of foreign blood, reigned in Ireland to the year 1170.
And those kings were not Englishmen, nor of any other
nation but our own, who with pious liberality bestowed am-
ple endowments in lands, and many immunities on the
Irish church, though in modern times our churches are
most barbarously plundered by the English, by whom they
are almost despoiled. And though those our kings, so
long and so strenuously defended, against the tyrants and
kings of different regions, the inheritance given by God,
preserving their innate liberty at all times inviolate; yet
Adrian IV, your predecessor, an Englishman, more even
by affection and prejudice than by birth, blinded by that
affection and the false suggestions of Henry II. king of
England, under whom, and perhaps by whom, St. Thomas
of Canterbury was murdered, gave the dominion of this
our kingdom, by a certain form of words, to that same
Henry II. whom he ought rather to have stript of his own
on account of the above crime.
"Thus, omitting all legal and judicial order, and alas!
his national prejudices and predilections blindfolding the
discernment of the pontiff, without our being guilty of any
WIMJAM SAMPSON. 265
Trime, without any rational cause whatsoever, he gave us
up to be mangled to pieces by the teeth of the most cruel
and voracious of all monsters. And if sometimes nearly
flayed alive, we escape from the deadly bite of these
treacherous and greedy wolves, it is but to descend into
the miserable abyses of slavery, and to drag on the doleful
remains of a life more terrible than death itself. Ever
since those English appeared first upon our coasts in vir-
tue of the above surreptitious donation, they entered our
territories under a certain specious pretext of piety and
external hypocritical shew of religion; endeavoring in the
mean time, by every artifice malice could suggest, to ex-
tirpate us root and branch, and without any other right
than that of the strongest, they have so far succeeded
by base and fraudulent cunning, that they have forced us
to quit our fair and ample habitations and p atcrnal inher-
itances, and to take refuge, like wild beasts, in the moun-
tains, the woods and the morasses of the country; nor can
even the caverns and dens protect us against their insa-
tiable avarice. They pursue us into these frightful abodes,
endeavoring to dispossess us of the wild uncultivated rocks,
and arrogating to themselves the property of every place
on which we can stamp the figure of our feet; and through
an excess of the most profound ignorance, impudence,
arrogance, or blind insanity scarcely conceivable, they
dare to assert, that not a single part of Ireland is ours, but
by right entirely their own.
"Hence the implacable animosities and exterminating
carnage, which are perpetually carried on between us-;
hence our continual hostilities, our detestable treacheries,
our bloody reprisals, our numberless massacres, in which
since their invasion to this day, more than 50,000 nfen
Kk
26« MiMOIKS or
have perished on both sides; not to speak of those who died
by famine, despair, the rigors of captivity, nightly maraud-
ing, and a thousand other disorders, which it is impossible
i > remedy, on account of the anarchy in which we live; an
anarchy which, alas! is tremendous not only to the state,
but also to the church of Ireland, the ministers of which
are daily exposed, not only to the loss of the frail and
transitory things of this world, but also to the loss of those
solid and substantial blessings, which are eternal and im-
mutable.
"Let those few particulars concerning our origin, and
the deplorable state to which we have been reduced by the
above donation of Adrian IV. suffice for the present.
«We have now to inform your holiness, that Henry, king
of England, and the four kings his successors, have violated
the conditions of the pontifical bull, by which they were
impowered to invade this kingdom; for the said Henry
promised, as appears by the said bull, to extend the patri-
mony of the Irish church, and to pay to the apostolical see,
annually, one penny for each house; now in this promise,
both he and his successors above-mentioned, and their ini-
quitous ministers, observed not at all with regard to Ire-
land. On the contrary, they have entirely and intention-
ally eluded tliem, and endeavored to force the reverse.
•*As to the church lands, so far from extending them,
they have confined them, retrenched them, and invaded
them on all sides, insomuch that some cathedral churches
have been by open force, notoriously plundered of half
their possessions; nor have the persons of our clergy been
more respected; for in every part of the country we find
bishops and prelates cited, arrested and imprisoned, with-
out distinction, and they are oppressed with such servile
YPlIXI.vSf ^AMPSQN. 2jC7
fear by those frequent and unparalleled injuries, that they
have not even the courage to represent to your holiness the
sufferings they are so wantonly condemned to undergo.
But since they are so cowardly and so basely silent in
their own cause, they deserve not that we should say a syl-
lable in their favor. The English promised also to intro-
duce a better code of laws, and enforce better morals
among the Irish people; but instead of this, they have so
corrupted our morals, that the holy and dove-like simplici-
ty of our nation is, on account of the flagitious example
of those reprobates, changed into the malicious cunning of
the serpent.
, "We had a written code of laws, according to which our
nation was governed hitherto; they have deprived us of
those laws and of every law except one, which it is impos-
sible to wrest from us; and for the purpose of exterminate
ing us, they have established other iniquitous laws, by
which injustice and inhumanity are combined for our de-
struction; some of which we here insert for your inspec-
tion, as being so many fundamental rules of English juris-
prudence established in this kingdom.
'{Every man, not an Irishman, can, on any charge,
however frivolous, prosecute an Irishman; but no Irish-
man, whether lay or ecclesiastic (the prelates alone ex-
cepted) can prosecute for any offence whatsoever, because
he is an Irishman. If any Englishman should, as they
often do, treacherously and perfidiously murder an Irish-
man, be he ever so noble or so innocent, whether lay or
ecclesiastic, secular or regular, even though he should be
a prelate, no satisfaction can be obtained from an English
court of justice; on the contrary, the more worthy the
murdered man was, and the more respected by his own
2|?S MEMOIRS OF
countrymen, the more the murderer is rewarded and hon-
ored, not only by the English rabble, but even by the
English clergy and bishops, and especially by those whose
duty it is chiefly, on account of their station in life, to cor-
rect such abominable malefactors. Every Irish woman,
whether noble or ignoble, who marries an Englishman, is
after her husband's death deprived of the third of her hus-
band's lands and possessions, on account of her being an
Irish woman. In like manner, whenever the English canv
violently oppress to death an Irishman, they will by no
means permit him to make a will or any disposal whatso-
ever of his affairs; on the contrary, they seize violently
on all his property, deprive the church of its rights, and
by force reduce to a servile condition that blood, which
has been from all antiquity free.
"The same tribunal of the English, by advice of the
king of England, and some English bishops, among whom
the ignorant and ill-conducted archbishop of Armagh was
president, has made in the city of St. Kenniers (Kilkenny)
tiie following absurd and informal statute; that no religi-
ous community in the English pale, shall receive an Irish,
man as novice, under pain of being treated as contumacious
oatemners of the king of England's laws. And as well
before as after this law was enacted, it was scrupulously
^'r.crved by the English Dominicans, Franciscans,
Monks, Canons, and all other religious orders of the Eng-
lish nation, who shewed a oartiality in the choice of their
religious subjects; the more odious, inasmuch as those
monasteries were founded by Irishmen, from which Irish-
men are so basely excluded bv Englishmen in modern
times. Besides, where they ought to have established vir-
tue, they have done exactly the contrary; they have exter-
WIIIIAM SAMPSON. 2G9
minated our native virtues, and established the most abom-
inable vices in their stead.
"For the English, who inhabit our island and call them-
selves a middle nation (between English and Irish) are so
different in their morals from the English of England and
of all other nations, that they can with the greatest pro-
priety be stiled a nation not of middling, but of extreme
perfidiousness; for it is of old, that they follow the abomi-
nable and nefarious custom, which is acquiring more in-
veteracy every day from habit, namely, when they invite a
nobleman of our nation to dine with tliem, they, either in
the midst of the entertainment, or in the unguarded hour
of sleep, spill the blood of our unsuspecting countrymen,
terminate their detestable feast with murder, and sell the
heads of their guests to the enemy. Just as Peter Brumi-
chehame, who is since called the treacherous baron, did
with Mauritius de S his fellow-sponsor, and the said
Mauritius's brother, Calnacus, men much esteemed for their
talents and their honor among us; he invited them to an en-
tertainment on a feast day of the Holy Trinity; on that
day, the instant they stood up from the table, he cruelly
massacred them, with twenty-four of. their followers, and
sold their heads at a dear price to their enemies; and when
he was arraigned before the king of England, the presem
king's father, no justice could be obtained against such a
nefarious and treacherous offender. In like manner lord
Thomas Clare, the duke of Gloucester's brother, invited
to his house the most illustrious Brien Roe O'Brien of Tho-
mond, his sponsor. -
'•All hope of peace between us is therefore completely
destroyed; for such is their pride, such their excessive
lust of dominion, and such our ardent ambition to shake
ZJO MEMOIRS OF
off this insupportable yoke, and recover the inheritance,
which they have so unjustly usurped; that, as there never
was, so there never will be, any sincere coalition between
them and us; nor is it possible there should in this life, for
We entertain a certain natural enmity against each other*
flowing from mutual malignity descending by inheritance
from father to son, and spreading from generation to gen-
eration.
Let no person wonder then, if we endeavour to preserv i
our lives and defend our liberties, as well as we cai
against those cruel tyrants, usurpers of our just propertic
and murderers of our persons; so far from thinking it un-
lawful, we hold it to be a meritorious act, nor can we b<
accused of perjury or rebellion, since neither our fathers
or we did at any time bind ourselves by any oath of allegi-
ance to their fathers or to them, and therefore without the
least remorse of conscience, while breath remains we will
attack them in defence of our just rights, and never lay
down our arms until we force them to desist. Besides, we
are fully satisfied to prove in a judicial manner, before
twelve or more bishops, the facts which we have stated,
and the grievances wldch we have complained of. Not
like the English, who in time of prosperity, contemn all
legal ordinances, and if they enjoyed prosperity at pre-
sent, would not recur to Rome, as they do now, but would
crush, with their overbearing and tyrannical haughtiness,
all the surrounding nations, despising every law, human
and divine.
"Therefore, on account of all those injuries and a
thousand others, which human wit cannot easily compre-
hend, and on account of the kings of England and their
wicked ministers who, instead of governing us, as they arc
SyOJulA.M SAMiPSOX. 271
bound to do, with justice and moderation, have wickedly
endeavored to exterminate us from off the face of the earth,
and co shake off entirely their detestable yoke and recover
our native liberties, which we lost by their means, we are
forced to carry on an exterminating war, chusing in de-
fence of our lives and liberties, rather to rise like men and
expose our persons bravely to all the dangers of war, than
any longer to bear like women their atrocious and detesta-
ble injuries; and in order to obtain our interest the more
speedily and consistently, we invite the gallant Edward
Bruce, to whom, being descended from our most noble an-
cestors, we transfer, as we justly may, our own right of
royal dominion, unanimously declaring him our king by
common consent who in our opinion, and in the opinion of
most men, is as just, prudent and pious, as he is powerful
and courageous; who will do justice to all classes of people,
and restore to the church those properties of which it has
been so damnably and inhumanly despoiled, &c."
Now would one not think that this was a picture of our
own unhappy times? The same insults, injuries and op-
pressions? The same spirit of just resentment? At least,
at this time it was not Popery, for the Irish were remon-
strating against a Papal abuse. There were no reform
speeches of Mr. Pitt, no rebel Washington, no levelling
Tom Paine, no Mirabeau, no French principles, no duke
of Richmond for universal suffrage, no parliamentary op-
position, no Catholic convention, no Defenders, no United
Irishmen, no Tone, no O'Connor, no Emmet, no M'Nevin.
But there were peep-of-day-boys, torturers, plunderers-,
corrupters, invaders, traitors! And like cause, like effect.
There was fruitful soil, fish and wildfowle, and commo-
dious seats /or habitations/
2f2 MEMOIRS OF
I now pass over a mass of atrocious records, and in
order to gain some belief for crimes almost incredible, I
will call once more to my aid the English attorney-gene-
ral. Those who will not believe me, an Irishman, will
perhaps respect an English attorney-general.
'•Hence it is," says sir John Davies, than whose there
cannot be better authority upon this point, "that in all the
parliament rolls which are extant from the 40th year of
Edward III. when the statutes of Kilkenny were enacted',
to the reign of king Henry VIII. we find the degenerate
and disobedient English called Rebels; but tl»e Irish, which
were not in the king's peace, are called Enemies. Statute
of Kilkenny, c. 1, 10 and II.— 11 Hen. IV. c. 24.— 10
Hen. VI. c. 1, 18.— 18 Hen. VL c. 4.-5 Edw. IV. c. 6.—
10 Hen. VIII. c. IT. All these statutes speak of English
Rebels and Irish enemies, as if the Irish had never been
in the condition of subjects, but always out of the protec-
tion of the laws, and were indeed in a worse case than
aliens of any foreign realm that was in amity with the
crown of England. For by divers other penal laws, the
English were forbidden to marry, to foster, to make gos-
sipes with the Irish, or to have any trade or commerce in
their markets and fairs. Nay there was a law made no
longer since than the 28th Hen. VIII. that the English
should not marry with any person of Irish blood, though
be had got a charter of denization, unless he had done
both homage and fealty to the king in the chancery, and
were also bounden by recognisance in sureties to continue
a loyal subject. Whereby it is manifest, that snch as had
the government of Ireland under the crown of England, did
intend to make a -perpetual separation of enmity between
the English and the Irish."
WILLIAM SAMPSON-. 2f3
One tiling appears from all the old laws and tyrannies,
that the Irish knew how to live, and the English were glad
to learn from them; that their women were pretty and
endearing, and the English were glad to marry them; and
they were happier with the Irish manners than their own.
No laws, however atrocious, could ever hinder them from
loving these engaging Irish women, nor adopting the jovial
manners of the men. They paid dear for it; they were
confiscated in their turn, and nicknamed degenerate. And
now, when there was little more to take from the Irish,
they fell upon the English-Irish, and distinguished be-
tween English by birth and English by blood, and so open-
ed anew road to commodious habitations. Two other nick-
names were added, "Irish-English'? and "English-Irish!"'
B\it this was a little more complex, and required more law;
for the crimes of the mere Irish were easy of proof and
hard of defence, viz. that they were born in their own
country and spoke their own language. And even the
Pope's bull was ex abundantia. This right of the English
to massacre the Irish, was not half so good as that of the
Mohawks, if there be any Mohawks at this day, would he
to scalp the New-Yorkers, because the New-Yorkers could
not speak Mohawk; provided always, that the Mohawks
•had a bull from the Pope and tomahawks enough. For
the Mohawks might say over and above, that we in New-
York were foreigners, degenerate Rebel-English; that we
spoke English; they might divide us into English by
birth, and English by blood; and that some of us were
mere English and Rebel-English, and that we fostered and
gossipped with the English, and were more English than
the English themselves. Ipsis angiitis angliciores.'.'.'
But heap the attorney-general; "The Irish nation ne~
%7A MEMOIRS OF
titioned to be naturalized." This was the Catholic ques-
tion in abstract! The then king, Edward III. {^pnot
king George III. observe, "satisfied his conscience by re-
ferring to his Irish counsellors." And the Irish counsellors,
{£J° not the Beresfords and the Clares, satisfied the king's
conscience by assuring him, "that the Irish might not be
naturalized without damage or prejudice to themselves or
to the crown." What a happy conscience is a king's con-
science! So the commodious habitations and "the wild
fowl," were still good game. A simple man like you or I,
would not perhaps understand why a man might not be
naturalized in his own country, "without prejudice to him-
self." But these counsellors were the "lives and fortune* s
men" of that day, and knew their own reasons. "The
truth is," says sir John, "these great English lords did,
to the uttermost of their power, cross and withstand the
enfranchisement of the Irish, for the causes before ex-
pressed."
Again, he says, "as long as they were out of the pro-
tection of the law, so as every Englishman might oppress,
spoile and kill them without controulement, how was it
possible they should be otherwise than outlaws and ene-
mies to the king of England? When they might not con-
verse or commerce with any civill men, nor enter into any
towne or city without perill of their lives, whether should
they flie but into the woods and mountaines, and there live
in a wilde and barbarous manner?" Here was the origin
of "xvilde Irishmen," that fine topic of jest to the ignorant
and the witling! "In a word," adds our author, "if the
English would neither in peace govern them by the law,
nor in warre roote them out by the sword, must they not
needs be pricks in their eyes, and thorns in their sides to
WIIXIAM SAMPSOV. 27;
the worlde's end?" And in another place he says, "the
Irish were generally reputed aliens to the crown of Eng-
land, so that it was no felony to kill a mere Irishman in
time of peace."
By the 4th chapter of the statutes made at Trim, 25
Hen. VI. (A. D. 1447) it was enacted, "that if any were
found with their upper lips unshaven by the space of a fort-
night, it might be lawful for any man to take them and
their goods as Irish enemies, and to ransom them as Irish
enemies."
By the 28th Henry VI. c. 3 (A. D. 1450.) it was also
made lawful "for every liegeman of the king to dispose of
them without judge or jury." You may recollect how
the English disposed of that poor king himself without
judge or jury; and rewards were put upon their heads at
the suggestion of the resentment of any private individual.
By a statute of the 50th Edward IV. c. 2 (A. D. 1465)
it was enacted, "that it should be lawful to all manner of
men that found any thieves robbing, by day or by night,
or going to rob or steal, in or out, going or coming, hav-
ing no faithful man of good name and fame in their company
in English apparel, upon any of the liege people of the
king, to take and kill those and cut off their heads, without
any impeachment of our sovereign lord and king, &c."
Now that this was expressly saying that any Englishman
might kill any Irishman, whether going or coming, in or out,
is evident, because the clause of exemption is too absurd
to have any meaning; for no man would go to rob with a
man of good name and fame in English apparel in his
company. And this necessary escort of a man in English
apparel resembles the customs of the wandering Tartars,
and the plundering hordes of Arabia, whom the traveller
2r£ fttettoftts of
is obliged to hire to protect him from other robbers of the
same- tribe. But hear the rest. It was made lawful to cut
off their heads (a humane process J "and of any head so
cut in the county of Meath, that the cutter of the said
liead, and his ayders there to him* cause the said head so
cut, to be brought to the Portreeve of the town of Trim,
and the Portreeve put it on a stake or spear, upon the
castle of Trim; and that the said Portreeve should give
Mm1 his writing, under the seal of the said town, testifying
the bringing of the head to him. And that it should be
lavrful for the bringer of the said head and his ayders to
the same, to destraine and levy with their own hands.**
(Summary again.) "Of every man having one plough-
land in tlie barony where the thief was to be taken, two
pence; half a plougliland, one penny; and every man hav-
ing a house and goods to the value of forty shillings, one
penny; and of every other cottier having house and smoke,
one half penny." Here was good encouragement to mur-
der and robbery! And yet God hath said, "Thou shalt
not steal/' and "thou shalt do no murder." What indig-
nation must these Irish have felt, whose laws, milder even
than the benignant institutions of the country where I
write, punished no crime with death. Oh barbarous Eng-
lishmen! I blush for my bloody ancestors!
By the 40th Edward 111. (A. D. 1 366) alliance by mar-
riage, nurture of infants, and g ussipred with the Irish, are
enacted into high treason. And if any man of English
"race should use an Irish name* Irish language, or Irish ap-
parel, or any other guise or fashion of the Irish, if he had
lands or tenements* the same should be seized, until he had
given security to the chancery, to conform himself in all
joints to the English manner of living! Well does this au-
WlfcllAM SAMPSON- 2rf
thor observe— "That the plagues of Egypt, though they
were grievous, were of short continuance; but the plague of
Ireland lasted four hundred years together!" And speak-
ing of another oppression, the Cotjgue and livery, now ex-
ercised under the name of free quarters: "it produced, he
said, two notorious effects; first, it made the land waste;
for, when the husbandman had labored all the year, the
soldier in one night did consume the fruits of all his labor.
And hereupon, of necessity, came depopulation, banishment,
and extirpation of the better Sort of subjects. Lastly, this
oppression did, of neccssitie, make the Irish a crafty peo-
ple; for such as are oppressed, and live in slavery, are ever
put to their shifts. And though this oppression was first
invented in hell, yet if it had been used and practised there,
as it has been in Ireland, it would long ago have destroyed
the kingdome of Belzebub." And Dr. Leland describes the
free quarters of that day, just what we have seen them in
ours. "Every inconsiderable party, Who, under the pretence
of loyalty, received the King's commission to repel the ad-
versary in some particular district, became pestilent ene-
mies to the inhabitants. Their properties, their lives, the
chastity of their families, were all exposed to barbarians,
who sought only to glut their brutal passions; and by then
horrible excesses, purchased the curse of God and man!'-5
Such was the persecution of the Irish during four nun- .
dred years prior to the reformation of the religion of the.
English* And yet there are bigots who will impute the
indignant feelings of the Irish to their hatred to Protest-
ants, although they were brayed four hundred years in
the mortar before there was a Protestant. Whether the
two hundred years that are to come, gave them more rea-
son to rejoice, we shall now consider.
WEMoins t>F
XETTER XXXIV.
Of the Reformation,
IN order to understand the new hardships which
the Irish were now to endure, it is good to take a short
j,vofthe state of religion in England. We shall hear
no more now of mere Irish and degenerate English. For
n this time, their persecutions assume a new form, and
are carried on in the name of God! Inexplicable paradox!
How the mildest religion on the earth should be, as it has
always been, called in aid to sanction the most atrocious
crimes; and how men have dared, in profanely invoking it,
to make laws so repugnant to it that they never could be
obeyed until the laws of God were broken. I cannot bet-
ter describe the state of religion amongst the English than
by a short history of the apostle of the reformation.
The Life and Death of Henry Vltt.
He was born in 1491, and began to reign in 1509. He
raised liis favorites, the instruments of his crimes, from
the depth of obscurity to the pinnacle of grandeur, and af-
ter setting them up as tyrants, put them to death like
slaves. He was pre-eminent in religion; first quarrelling
with Luther, whose doctrines he thought too republican,
he became defender of the Catholic faith; and then quar-
WILIIAM SAMPSON. 279
rolling with the Pope, who stood in the way of his mur-
ders, he was twice excommunicated. He made creeds aijd
articles, and made it treason not to swear to them; he
made others quite opposed to them, and made it treason
not to swear to them; and he burned his opponents with
slow fire. He burned an hysterical girl, the maid of Kent,
for her opinions. He disputed with a foolish school-mas-
ter on the Real Presence, and burned him to convince him.
He beheaded Bishop Fisher and sir Thomas Moore, for
not swearing that his own children were bastards. He
robbed the churches, and gave the revenue of a convent to
an old woman for a pudding. He burned a lovely young
woman (Anne Ascue) for jabbering of the real presence.
He was in love as in religion, delicate and tender. He
first married his sister-in-law and, because her children
died, divorced her, married her maid of honor and made
parliament and clergy declare he had done well. He be-
headed the maid of honor for letting her handkerchief
fall at a tilting, and two or three gentlemen with her to
keep her company, threw her body into an old arrow
case and buried it therein, and the very next day married
a third wife, and his parliament and his clergy made it
treason not to say it was well.
He next proposed to Francis I. to bring two princesses
of Guise, and a number of other pretty French ladies, that
he might choose a fourth wife among them. The French
king was too gallant to bring ladies to market like geld-
ings, so he fell in love with the picture of a Dutch lady>
and married her without seeing her. When she came, he
found she spoke Dutch, and did not dance well. He
swore she was no maid, called her a Flanders mare, and
turned her, loose; and as he had destroyed Cardinal
280 MEMOIRS WE
Woolscy, when he was tired of his former wife, so he b'c-
headcd Cromwell when he was surfeited with this one. -
He married a fifth wife, with whom he was so delighted,
that he had forms of thanksgiving composed by his bishops
and read in the churches, and then condemned her, her
grand mother, uncles, aunts, cousins, about a dozen in all,
ro be put to death. Having done all this, and much more,
he died of a rotten leg, in the 38th year of his reign, and
in the 56th of his life, a royal peep-of-day-boy, and a yery
memorable brute;
Of the Popes of London.
Now when we consider what kind of person this Henry
was, can we wonder that the Irish were not prepared to
swear that he was the elect man of God, the successor of
St. Peter; that he kept the keys of Heaven; that he was
Christ's vice-gerent upon earth; in short, that he was the
sunreme head of the church, which in their idea was the
POPE; would it not at least have required time, persua-
sion, gentleness, good offices and great benefits to have eiv
gaged the followers of the benevolent St. Patrick to quit
his opinions for the extravagant absurdities of this beast?
x\las! instead of persuasion, it was new cruelties; and the
persecutions that had exhausted inhumanity, seemed but
to revive under the more frightfid auspices of perverted re-
ligion! Yet the interested and the intriguing, those who
traffick with the king's conscience and the people's misery,
affect to impute all the disaffection of the Irish to religious
bigotry. That the same war was carried on against them
WILLIAM SAMPSOST. 281
after as before the reformation, is certain; the war-whoop
was only changed. And the arrows that were prepared
for them before, were only dipped anew in this fresh poi-
son. The reformation might be an amelioration, or it
might not, according to its effects. The tree is known
by its fruit. For my own part, I care as little for Pope
Clement as for Pope Henry; for Pope Pious as for Pope
George, if persecution be all the benefit they bestow. But
upon this new topic I must hold my pen short, for it is
apt to run away with me. A few instances out of many
may suffice, to shew that the reformation, however good
in its principle, brought nothing to the Irish but new afflic-
tions. This is the view of Irish history, which best an-
swers to your question as to the true causes of the troubles
in Ireland.
Henry was not too busy disputing with school-masters,
broiling young ladies, and murdering his wives, to have
time also for tormenting the Irish. He formed a parlia-
ment as corrupt and servile as that of England, which,
like it, first declared his first marriage void and the chil-
dren of it bastards; immediately after, hearing of the
murder of Anne of Bolein, repealed that law, declared
the issue of Anne bastards, and settled the succession up-
on the issue of lady Jane, with a power to the new Pope of
disposing of the Irish by will.
But wicked and ruffian as Henry was, he was not blind;
and after many violent attempts, he found it wise to soothe
and flatter the Irish, inviting them to his court, and treat-
ing their chiefs with marked distinction; by which arti-
fice (for the Irish are too easily won by kindness, though
obstinate against oppression) he was followed up by a
brigade of Irish to the siege of Bologne, who distifr-
2J&' MEMOIRS OF
guisheil themselves by their extraordinary courage and
activity.
Edward VI. was a virtuous, or what the historians call
a weak prince? and if he signed any instruments of intol-
erance or cruelty, it was with tears in his eyes!
Queen Mary (the bloody) was a bigoted Papist, but Ire-
land fared all alike; and the "commodious" habitations
produced new rebellions.
Popk Eizabeth repealed all the laws of her sister, con-
fiscated the commodious habitations without mercy, sent
rommissionei-s to exercise ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and
passed the oath of supremacy, of which this may be ob-
served, that it was now not enough to assent to the doc-
trine that the kings of England were the popes of Ire-
land; but for fear that should not be effectual in provoking
revolt, they were forced, under pain of treason, forfeiture
and prcemuniere to swrear to it. This was not the pitch-
cap-torture for the head, but the torture for the conscience
and the heart. It was establishing God Almighty by law
after the fancy of the wickedest of his creatures. When,
in old times, it was attempted to force the Norman laws
upon the English, the Barons cried out with one voice,
"We will have no change in the English law!" Nolumus
leges anglae nurture. This exclamation, so extolled, was
in opposition to a humane law proposed by the Canonists
at the parliament of Merton, the object of which was, to
rescue from innocent disgrace children whose parents
married after their birth. But the stubborn support of an-
cient institutions, good or bad, by Englishmen is cele-
brated with unbounded commendation; whilst if Irishmen
refuse to swear against their conscience and belief, there
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 3$i
is no pain nor ignominy too extreme; so hard a measure
is that dealt at ail times to them.
It ¥ft$ to the reign of this Pope Elizabeth, that the re%
beOion of the grea' chieftain, O'Neil, raged, who was so
treacherously murdered in a camp; and the title she set
up to his estate is quite amusing: It appears in the pre-
amble of the statute, XI. Eliz. ch. 1, in those words:
"And drst, that at the beginning, and before the comming
of Irishmen, into the sayd land (Ireland J they were dwel-
ling in a province of Spain, called Biscan, whereof Bayou
was a member and the chief citie; and that at the said
Irishmen's comming into Ireland, one king Gurmonde,
son to the noble king Belan, king of Great Britaine, which
is called England, was lord of Bayou, as many of his
successours were to the time of Henry the Second, first
conquerour of this realm, and therefore the Irishmen
should be the king of England his people, and Ireland his
land. Another title is, that at the same time that Irishmen
came of Biscay as exiled persons in sixtic ships, they met
with the same king Gurmond upon the sea, at the Ties of
Orcades, then coming from Denmark, with great victory,
their captaines called Heberus and Hermon, went to this
king, and him told the cause of their comming out of Bis
cay, and him prayed with great instance, that he would
graunt unto them, that they might inhabit some land in
the west. The king at last, by advice of his counsel,
granted to them Ireland to inhabit, and assigned unto
them guides for the sea, to bring them thither!" Then
follow nearly twenty such reasons, equally pleasant, all
which satisfied the (pieen*s Conscience, that Q'NeiPs estate
belonged of right to her!
Need any man want a title to another's land, if he fee
284 MEMOIRS OF
strong enough to take it? Is there but one king Gurmond?
This was an old title to be sure; bui nullum tempi's occurrit
regk Kings have long bands; and Pope Elizabeth's hands
were longer than her feet; for she could lay her hands up-
on many a commodious seat, where she never could set her
foot.
This title of king Gurmond was turning the joke upon
the three sons of king Milesius, and the descendants of the
Skuthoi.
I suppose king Gurmond gave her leave to plunder the
churches,, for she did it roundly; still there was no forcing
the mere Irish, nor the degenerate English, to quit Saint
Patrick for the Pope of London. The Roman Pope ex-
communicated the she Pope and Gvrmonded all her lands;
but she cared for him as little as I do for her. She man-
aged so well by her deputies in Ireland, that she made
a sufficient number of rebellions, and exterminated so
many, and Gurmonded so many estates of O'Neil, Mahons,
Geraldines and others, that she had now more commodious
habitations than inhabitants, and began what was called
the planting* She planted new men in the place of the old
ones; living in the place of the dead, and sent over my
Scotch, Welsh and English ancestors to be planted. This
was like the Dutch farce, of Adam going to be created.
Some of us throve pretty well, and some of us grew old
before we grew good. As the plantations were of London
Papists, the Roman Papists were lopped root and branch,
to let us grow.
However, these weedings and plantings cost this lad} so
much money and trouble; the, more so, as they were con-
nected with the disgrace and execution of her lover (Essex)
that she is said to have died of it, and there let her rest.
WILLIAM SAMPSON". ^35
Pope James I.
Next? comes Pope James the punster — the* knight of the
marriage rinz:, and the champion of the surplice. He had
underhand favored the Irish rebellions, and courted the
Catholic powers to make his way to the English throne.
The Irish Catholics thought it a lucky moment. They
were at first flattered and cajoled, and began to say their
prayers in their own way; but Mountjoy the deputy shew-
ed them better, and made war upon them, saying, that
with the sword of King James, he Would cut to pieces the
charter of King John. And it was necessary, upon the
Stewart-principle, to sacrifice the friend to the enemy.
On the 4th of July, 1605, he issued a proclamation, that
"whereas his majesty was informed, that his subjects of
Ireland had been deceived by a false report; that his majes-
ty was disposed to allow them liberty of conscience, and
free choice of a religion, contrary to that which he had al-
ways professed himself; b v which means it had happened
that, many of his subjects of that kingdom had determined
to remain firmly in that religion; wherefore he declared to
all his subjects of Ireland, that he would not admit of any
such liberty of conscience, as they were made to expect by
that report." And thereupon his deputy (Chichester;
managed so well in provoking rebellions, that the estates
of the Earls Tyrone, Tyrconnel, and Sir Cahir O'Dogh-
erty, and their followers, were confiscated, comprising al-
most six counties; and the commodious seats were parcelled
out amongst my anccsters who flocked from England and
Scotland; and a great number of Presbyterians were plant-
ed, who since became the most arch rebels of us all. Chi-
chester was rewarded with all the, estate of Sir Cahir
286 MEM0IKS OF
O'Dogherty and the territory of Innishowen. Hie whole
province of Lister was now confiscated (511,456 Irish
acres) and some London traders bought a great tract, and
thereupon built the city of Londonderry, where was born
that degenerate traitor whose memoirs I write; and who,
but for the building of that city, must either never have
been born, or been born somewhere else.
In the grants to us foreigners, there was a whimsical
clause, "that we should not suffer a laborer to dwell upon
our lands, that would not take the oath of supremacy."
Sir Walter Raleigh, in the preceding reign, had 40,000
acres granted him. But after thirteen years imprison-
ment, he was in this Pope's reign beheaded. Chichester
was the first that organized Protestant ascendancy-men,
no Popery men, lives and fortunes-men, and peep-qf-day-
boys, since called Orange-men. The Catholics sent depu-
ties to lay their griefs before the king; the deputies sent
deputies after their deputies, and had them imprisoned by
his majesty; in whose speech to the lords of his council, in
presence of the Irish agents at Whitehall, the 21st of Sep-
tember, 1613, are these curious passages of royal eloquence
and taslc.
"There came petitions to the deputy of a body without a
head; a headless body; you would be afraid to meet such
a tody in the streets; a body without a head, to speak;
nay, half a body; what a monster was this! a very bug-
bear! Methinks you that would have a visible body, head
of the church over the whole earth, and acknowledge a
temporal head under Christ, ye may likewise acknowledge
my viceroy or deputy of Ireland."
And in speaking of creating new peers and boroughs,
•'What is it to you, whether I make many or few boroughs:
WIXLIAM SAMPSON. 287
My council may consider the fitness if I require it; but if I
made forty noblemen and four hundred boroughs, the more
the merrier; the fewer the better cheer." What do vou
think of the eloquence of this king?
And again, "You that are of a contrary religion must
not look to be the law-makers; you are but half subjects
and should have but half privileges." Whimsical arrange-
ment; half privileges for natives, and whole privileges for
strangers.
And again, "There is a double cause why I should be
careful of the welfare of that people; first, asking of Eng-
land, by reason of the long possession the crown of Eng-
land hath had of that land; and also as king of Scotland;
for the ancient kings of Scotland are descended from the
kings of Ireland, so I have an old title as king of Scot-
land."
It was in this Pope's reign that the commissioners wea'e
sent to enquire into defective titles. Some old Gurmond
claim was set up to every estate, and juries were
summoned who, if they refused to find for king Gurmond*
were tried themselves and condemned in the star chamber.
In short, Pope James was so active a planter, that every
thing was done to clear the ground for his plantations.
Charles I.
In- order, if possible, to understand the complicated
miseries of this wretched monarch's reign, we must take a'
short view of the political and religious parties in England.
Scotland and Ireland,
288 MEMOIRS OE
hi England was the King-Pope and his high priest
Laud* the stickler for postures, ceremonies, meats, copes
and vestments; three sects of Puritans, political, disci-
plined and doctrinal; Arminians, a nick-name for all their
opposers; tlic parliament and the army Puritans, the royal
party, Hierarchists, and many other sects besides, agreeing
only in the sour spirit of bigotry.
In Scotland, the covenantee exceeding all others in
hatred to loyalty and the hierarchy, and by that bond of
hatred united with the Puritans, clamorous for civil and
religious liberty for themselves, and intolerant to all others:
In Ireland was no spirit of innovation, but merely at-
tachment to ancient constitution in church and state.
Whatever were the political griefs of any party, those of'
the Irish were indisputable; and this appears from the
mere names of the chiefs of the celebrated rebellion of
1G41. For at the head of them was the noble and gallant
Roger Moore; a name, but that he was an Irishman, fit to
occupy a nich in the temple of fame, whose ancestors pos-
sessed the dynasty of Leix, and were by queen Mary dis-
possessed; his friend, the son of the great Hugh O'Neil,
whose father was dispossessed of Ulster; M'Guire, whose
father was expelled from his territory of Fermanagh;
M'Mahon, O'Reilly and Byrne, whose family had been so
treacherously persecuted by sir William Parsons, after-
wards impeached for his own crimes. And to these were
attached all the innocent victims who, sharing the fate of
their chiefs, had been confiscated in mass.
To shew the difference between the moderation of the
Irish Papists, and that of our Scotch and English ances-
tors, let the following extract from Hume's England
suffice.
WrtLIAM SAMPSON. £80
"On reading of the new liturgy in Edenburgh, no soon*.
*v had the Dean, arrayed in his surplice, opened the book,
than a multitude of the meanest sort, most of them women,
clapping their hands, cursing and crying out, a Pope! a
Pope! Anti-Christ! stone him! raised such a tumult that it
was impossible to proceed with the service. The bishop
mounting the pulpit, in order to appease the populace, had
a stool thrown at him; and it was with difficulty that the
magistrates were able, partly by force and partly by au-
thority, to expel the rabble and shut the doors against
them. The tumult however still continued without.
Stones were thrown at the doors and windows; and when
the service was ended, the bishop going home was attack-
ed and narrowly escaped from the enraged multitude. In
the afternoon, the privy seal, because he carried the bish-
op in his coach, was so pelted with stones, and hooted at
with execrations, and pressed upon by the eager populace,
that if bis servants with drawn swords had not kept them
off, the bishop's life had been exposed to the utmost
danger."
The Covenanters besides solicited foreign aid from
Cardinal Richlieu, the French minister, whilst the Irish
remained loyal to their king."
Now, of two things, one, either the Scotch were wrong
not to take the liturgy as ir was sent to them by their
king, and still more, wrong to seek foreign aid from a
French cardinal and a despotic power, however contrary
$o their conscience and belief; or the Irish were right not
tamely to surrender both their conscience and their estates,
still continuing loyal to their king. Yet strange instance
of human bigotry and depravity, these same Scotch would
allow neither quarter nor mercy to the Irish; and stranger
n n
291 MEMOIRS OV
still, Mr. Hume, that wise and philosophic historian, so
little of a sectarian, that he is accused of Deism, has sur-
passed his own eloquence in stigmatizing; the Irish for
their resistance: and has thereby deluded and misled many
an innocent and unprejudiced mind. He would have ren-
dered a greater service to humanity, if at least, after ex-
claiming against the cruelties of the Irish, he had censured
their iniquitous plunderers, the authors of their misery and
their despair.
With respect to this poor king, he paid dearly for his
folly and ingratitude. There was but one party in the
world true to him, the Irish Catholics; and in the true
principle of his family, he sacrificed them to every one
that hated him; to those in fact that repaid him by cutting
off his head.
His enemies impeached his favorite Strafford with his
crimes against the Irish, not from justice towards the
Irish, whom they persecuted still more; but from hatred
to him. He defended Strafford, and was obliged to sign
his death warrant. He then sent over Ormond, a traitor
to himself, and whose rancour against the Catholics was
so bitter, that rather than make peace with them he diso.
beyed his master's orders, and brought his head to the
block; for had not his avarice and bigotry inclined him to
keep up the war, the Regicides would not have had the
power of executing their purpose. Ormond was a zealous
bigot, a cold-blooded murderer, and a mercenary traitor.
He first obtained, in consideration of the cessation so
prcssingly ordered by the king, thirty thousand pounds, and
an army of several thousand men to serve in Scotland,,
where they distinguished themselves pre-eminently; he
then refused to lead the Catholics against the king's ene
WU.LIAM SAMPSON. 9ft'l
mies in Ireland; and for a stipulated price of jive thousand
pounds in hand, and two thousand pounds for five years
successively, and payment of his enormous debts, surren-
dered his sword, the castle, and the king's authority, to
the rebels; and forged a letter from the king to give colour
to his perfidy. No man was more instrumemtal to the
execution of Charles, or more per fixl ions, or more atrocious
to the Irish. He promised quarter to the garrison of
Timolin for their gallant defence, and butchered them after
their surrender, in cold blood. He laid waste whole ter-
ritories without compunction, and plundered without re-
morse. It is impossible to give any idea of the unceasing
Cruelties of this more thru of the other reigns. But I
cannot help citing the reasons of lord Castlehaven for
joining the Catholic confederates, they are so like those
which I have given for my own opinions. "I began to
consider the condition of the kingdom, as that the state did
chiefly consist of men of mean birth and quality, that most
of them, steered by the influence and power of those that
were against the king, that they had, by cruel massacre-
ing, hanging and torturing, been the slaughter of thousand?
of innocent men, women and children, better subjects than
themselves! That they, by all their actions shewed that
they looked at nothing but the extirpation of the nation.
To THESE I COULD BE NO TRAITOK." So said lord
Castlehaven, and so we say all !
With respect to the loyalty of the Catholics to king
Charles, as an Irishman, I should rather seek for an ex-
cuse for its absurdity, than proofs of its truth, unless they
believed that he pitied them; and with their characteristic
generosity, imputed his crimes against them to his neces-
sities, to the terror of his enemies, or the perfidy of his ft®«
Mi"..\toius or
i&ters.' There is no other excuse for their folly. "To
love rirjsc that persecute you,'' dues not go so far as to
say. that you shall abet the murderers either of others or
yourselves.
His cruelties to them were more cutting, because they
were more ungrateful, than those of the Plantagenets and
tlie Tudors. They would have saved him from his ene-
mies, and he sold them to those enemies. They offered
him money for justice, to suspend the robberies, under the
searches for defective titles, to grant them toleration, by
suspending the torture of their consciences by false oaths
and conformity acts. He took their money, and flagitious-
ly broke his word to gratify his own murderers. But Miat
he was not so hardened as to be entirely without com-
punction, appears from his own words in his book, entitled
Eikon Basilike, with which I shall conclude this reign.
*»And certainly it is thought, by many wise men, that
the preposterous rigor and unreasonable severity, which
some men carried before them in England, was not the
least incentive that kindled and blew up those horrid
flames, the sparks of discontent, which wanted not predis-
posed fuel for rebellion in Ireland; where despair being ad-
ded to their former discontents, and the fear of utter extir-
pation to their wonted oppressions, it was easy to provoke
to an open rebellion a people prone enough to break out to
ail exhorbitant violence, both by some principles of their
religion, and the natural desires of liberty; both to exempt
themselves from their present restraints, and to prevent
those after-rigors wherewith they saw themselves appar-
ently threatened by the covetous zeal and uncharitable
fury of some men, who think it a great argument of the
truth of their religion, to endure no other than their own.
WIIXIAM SAMFSOJf. 293
<*I would to God no man had been less affected with
Ireland's sad estate than myself. I offered to go myself
in person upon tha; expedition; hut some men were either
afraid I should have any one kingdom quieted, or loath
they were to shoot at any mark less than myself; or that
any should have the glory of my destruction but themselves.
Had my many offers been accepted, I am confident neither
the ruin would have been so great, nor the calamity so long,
nor the remedy so desperate.
"But some kind of zeal counts all merciful modera-
tion, lukewarmncss, and had rather be cruel than counted
cold; and is not seldom more greedy to kill the bear for
his skin, than for any harm he hath done; the confiscation
of men's estates being more beneficial, than the charity
of saving their lives or reforming their errors. And I
believe it will at last appear, that they who first began to
embroil my other kingdoms, are in great part guilty, if
not of the first letting out, yet of the not timely stopping
those horrid effusions of blood in Ireland."
Such was the late conviction of this unfortunate martyr
to the cruel rapacity of its ministers. An awful lesson!
The Lord Protector,
Never was this title of protector more undeserved, at
least in Ireland. His hatred to the Irish was three-fold.
He hated them from bigotry, because they did not "seek
the Lord." He hated them because they were loyal to
that king whose head he cut off; and he hated them be-
cause they had comnwdious scats for habitations. He in-
,'i MEMOIRS OP
vitcd the garrison of Drogheda to surrender, and promised
quarter, and slaughtered man, woman and child. He did
the same at Wexford. He collected all the native Irish
who remained, and transported them to Connaught, which
had been laid waste and depopulated. According to Dar-
iymple (Mem. vol. 1, page 26r) "He transported 40,000
Irish from their own country, to fill all the armies of En-
rope with complaints of his cruelty, and admiration of
their valour." "This," adds Darlymple, "was the first
foundation of Irish corps in foreign armies." To recite
all his crimes would be endless.
This brings us to the restoration of
Charles II.
TfiE reign of Cromwell was a reign of terror; and
Cromwell was a Robespierre. But to whom or to what
cai we compare the mean ingratitude of Charles? Cicero
was sacrificed to the atrocious vengeance of Mark Antho-
ny, an eternal blot on the character of the Bixine Mgustus.
But the Irish nation, who had suffered the extreme of mise-
ry for this outcast race, were sacrificed to the obsequious
passion of this wretch for the murderers of his father.
When an exile in Holland, he promised every thing to his
faithful Catholics, and confirmed the peace made with
them by Ormond.
"When lie came to Scotland, he took the covenant, and
swore that he would have no enemies but the enemies of
the covenant; that he did detest Popery, superstition and
idolatry, together with prelacy, resolving not to tolerate,
much less to allow, those in any part of his dominions, and
to endeavor the extirpation thereof, to the utmost of his
power. And he expressly pronounced the peace lately
WILLIAM SAMfcSOX? 2§3
made with the Irish and confirmed by himself, to be null
and void, adding that he was fully convinced of the sin-
fulness and unlawfulness of it, and of his allowing them
(the confederates") the liherty of the Papist religion, for
which he did from his heart desire to be deeply humbled
before the Lord, and for having sought unto such unlawful
help for restoring him to his throne.
When this abject being was restored to the English
throne, he broke his covenant, embraced Prelacy, and be-
came, in every sense of the word, King-Pope of London.
But though he broke his Scotch covenant, he did not keep his
Irish covenant. It is enough to say, that he sought out
the bitterest enemies of the Catholics to govern them.
Broughill, the turn-coat, sir Charles Coote, the butcher,
and the bigotted and rancorous traitor, Ormond — the Cas-
tlereagh, Carhampton and Clare of that day. The first
act was a proclamation for apprehending and prosecuting
all Irish rebels, and commanding that soldiers and others
who were possessed of any lands, should not be disturbed in
their possessions. Note, these Irish rebels were the faith-
ful soldiers who fought for his father under this same Or-
mond; and the adventurers were the murderers of his
father; and the others were Ormond, Broughill and Coote.
How well these traitors profited by the miseries they ere
ated, appears by this, that Ormond gained three hundred
thousand pounds! a royal fortune at that day, besides
places, bribes and emoluments. Broughill was made earl
of Orrery, and Coote earl of Montrath; the two latter
made lords justices, and Ormond lord lieutenant. Such
was this witty and profligate Charles, upon whose bed his,
friend and jester, Rochester, inscribed, in his life-time, this
ludicrous epitaph:
;~'}0 MEMOIRS OF
••Here lies our sovereign lord the kinfis
"Whose word no man relies on;
•'Who never said a foolish thing,
'•Nor never did a wise one."
James LT.
Once more a Romish Monarch. The Irish rejoice, ex-
ult; they hope for mitigation of their sore oppresions; they
support their lawful kings, who certainly never abdicated
the crown of Ireland. The support of him against a
Dutchman, who had married his daughter and was driving
him from his throne, was judged to be rebellion, and for
the generous support of this Stewart against the fanaticism
of his enemies, the rebellion of his subjects, and his own
un worthiness, they lost a million of acres of their fruitful
soil; and my ancestors who got them, were called tht
WtUiamites.
A Dutch Pope.
Or the heads of the church, or Popes of London, none
was less bigoted than this one. He even brought with him
into England some of those principles of liberty, which
afterwards encreased, and made that little island prosper
as it has done; and the loss of which liberty, with other
crimes, has brought it to its present state of danger.
I have no objection to the English celebrating the glo-
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. #97
i'ious memory of this deliverer; to deliver them from a
perfidious and tyrannical race of kings, was really a
deliverance; but I am an Irishman, endeavoring to write
Irish history with truth and brevity. I therefore give you
his health, as I have heard it drank by Irishmen,
"Here's the glorious and immortal memory of king
William, who delivered us from Popery (by persecution)
slavery (by conquest) brass money (by empty purses) and
wooden shoes (by bare feet.") He began his reign by
kicking his father-in-law from the throne, and finished it
by breaking his own neck.
Pope Anne of London,
The last of the Stewarts. This weak woman, vacilT
iated between whigs and tories, was forced into the perse-
cution of the Irish as she had been into the act of at-
tainder of her brother, and the proclaiming a reward of
Jifty thousand pounds for his arrestation. In her reign,
also passed the laws of discovery and those for the pre-
vention of the growth of Popery, the most monstrous that
had yet sullied the Irish code; and still more odious, if
such crimes admitted of comparisons, by being a direct in-
fringement of the treaty of Limerick between the Irish
and king William.
By these laws the Roman Catholics were absolutely dis-
armed; they could not purchase land; if a son, though the
youngest, abjured the Catholic religion, he inherited the
whole estate of his family; and if he turned discoverer,
during the life-time of his father, he took possession Qf
o o
298 MEMOIRS OF
his fortune, and left him and his family beggars or depen-
dants, if dependance could be upon one who had violated
the principles of filial duty.
If a Catholic had a horse In his possession, of whatever
value, a Protestant might take it upon paying him Jive
pounds.
If the rent paid by any Catholic was less than two thirds
of the full improved value, whoever discovered or turned
informer, took the benefit of the lease.
Barbarous restrictions were laid on educations at home,
and penalties on obtaining it abroad, and the child in
whose love the father had centered the hopes of his declin-
ing years, was liable to be snatched from his fond arms
and entrusted to a Protestant guardian, the interested ene-
my of his religion and his peace. And this temptation
was not only held out to adults, but to infants incapable of
choice or judgment, whose tender years have no dcpend-
ance but in a parent's care; no protection but in his love.
In what code, christian or heathen, can we find a paral-
lel for such pollution? Would it not, in any other country,
be an apology for a thousand rebellions? and would it not
stamp the nation where it originated (unless England be
especially dispensed from every obligation, human or di-
vine) with the indelible stain of everlasting infamy?
In all countries informers are odious, and instruments
only of the guilty and impure. But what code ever held
out the property of the father as a bribe to the treachery
of the son? "Honor thy father," is the commandment of
God. "Rob thy father," that of a fiend! Yet has this
law raised a trophy of immortal honor to the Irish name!
for I can hear of no one instance where an Irish son has
been found so base as to enter into the views of these mon-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 299
■stroiis law-givers, by trampling on the dictates of nature,
of religion and of honor.
Another instance of exquisite depravity; the wife was
also bribed to turn against the husband, and the principles
of dissention were sown in the marriage-bed; and lest the
social ties and endearing affections of the heart should -ever
operate to bring about in Ireland peace, union and for-
giveness, heavy penalties were inflicted upon what was
grossly termed committing matrimony, where one party
was a Catholic!
Now what was the crime of the Irishman? To rest sat-
isfied with the religion of his fathers. What motive ex
cept terror, had he to embrace the new religion? None.
He knew it only by its perversion; he could not view it but
with horror; for it was never presented to him but as an
instrument of persecution and of spoliation. This is a
strong assertion. I will support it by strong proofs of his-
tory. Let us take a short view of the reformation in Ire-
land.
Of the Refoi'mation in Ireland.
"At the reformation," says Spencer, "preachers were
sent to them who did not know their language." "Be-
sides," says he, "the inferior clergy in those days, who
had the immediate cure of souls, were men of no parts nor
erudition; but what is worse, they were still as immoral as
they were illiterate;" and in another place he adds, "they
were most licentious and disordered; and for the better
reformation of them (the Irish Catholics) they put thtir
clergy, whom they reverenced, to death."
SQW. &I£M0IU8 OF
By the 2d Elizabeth, chapter 2, it appears they we'rd
forced to he present at the reading of the litany in a barba-
rous language (for so the English appeared to them) and
which they did not understand; and to complete the ab-
surdity, a remedy was provided, that where the Irish
priest did not know English, he might speak Latin.
In the reign of James I. it was ordered, that the bible
and common-prayer-book should be translated into Irish;
upon which an Irish Protestant Bishop said, laughing to
his friend, "In Queen Elizabeth's time we had English bi-
bles and Irish ministers; but now we have ministers come
of England, and Irish bibles with them."
Might not the Irishman reply to this mockery— '-".Makes*
thou thy shame thy pastime?"
"The benefices were bestowed upon the English and
Scotch, not one of them having three words of the Irish
tongue.*'!
Their first care was to dispossess the ancient clergy of
iheir benefices; and there are some curious accounts in old
authors of the successors appointed to them.
"Bishop Bonner, when he was in the Marshal sea, sent
a letter by a Chaplain to the Archbishop, wherein he mer-
vily related how these Bishops had ordained each other at
an inn, where they met together. Whilst others laughed
at this new method of consecrating Bishops, the Archbish-
op shed tears, and lamented that such ragged companions'
should come poor out of foreign parts to succeed the old
clergy in rich deaneries, prebendaries, and canon places,
who had such ill-luck at meeting with dishonest wives, as
an ordinance Was put out by the queen and parliament/
* Theatre of Prot, and Cath, Religion, p. 245.
WIIXIAM SAMPSOIV. 301
that no woman should for a wife be commended to any
minister, without her honesty withal could be sufficiently
testified unto hiin."f
Bishop Burnet, in his life of Bedel, says, "That the
bribes went about almost barefaced, and the exchange they
made of peunance for money, was the worst of simony."
In the Commons Journals, 1640, the Protestant Bishops
are stated "{o have exacted money for holy-water, for
anointing, for mortuary-muttons, mary-galhus, Saint-Pat-
rick-ridges, soul-money, and the like." And the House of
Commons, in their humble remonstrance, state, "that the
money taken in commutation cfpennance was not converted
to pious uses, but made a private profit."
And Wentworth, who suffered for his own crimes4 calls
them "an unlearned clergy* who have not so much as the
outward form of churchmen to cover themselves withal,
nor their persons any way reverenced."
The oaths of supremacy, conformity and uniformity,
were the instruments used by the new clergy to dispossess
the old. Sir Arthur Chichester was one of the most cruel
and intemperate enforcers of these penalties; so much so,
that in 1606, the sufferers sent over Sir Patrick Barnwell
to complain to the King and Council; for which he was
committed to the tower, and instructions were sent over to
the Lord Deputy, not to answer for his conduct, but to
send them over some answers for form's sake.^\ For they
said that proceedings in matters of religion want not cap-
tious eyes in that country.
fLegacy to Prot. p.
}State Letter, vol. 1, p. 187.
fDavid Curios Hibern. vol. 1, p, 482
■
02 MEMOIRS OF
If any lenity was shewn, the author of it was punished.
Lord Deputy Falkland was for that reason so clamor-
ed at !>y the bishops and the faction, that he was dismiss-
ed with disgrace.j
The clergy did not confine themselves to ecclesiastical
censures, nor the Operation of the common law. Hammond
L'Estrange relates, that "the lords justiccs,#finding they
were celebrating mass in Coke's street, sent the Archbishop
ef Dublin, mayor, sheriffs, recorder, and a file of musPel-
eers to apprehend them, which they did, taking away the
crucifixes and paraments of the altar, the soldiers hewing
down the images of Saint Francis. Fifteen chapels were
seized to the king's use, and the priests so persecuted, that
two of them hanged themselves in their own defence;"
and this was at the time when the English historians say,
that the Catholics enjoyed undisturbed possession of their
religion.
The ancient laws against the Irish were a compound of
iniquity and absurdity, marking the semi-barbarity of
their authors. By the temporary constitutions made in
Magna ParUamento, in the reign of king Henry VIII. By
the deputy and council it was ordered, that no nobleman
should have more than twenty cubits or bandlets of linen
in their shirts: horsemen, eighteen; footmen, sixteen;
garsons, twelve; clowTns, ten; and none of their shirts
shall be died witli saffron, upon pain of twenty shillings.
Now however provoking to a nobleman to have his
shirt rut by act of parliament, yet with twenty cubits he
might have an ample shirt in despite of the ordonnance;
but it is remarkable, that from the time that religion was
tLelawl. vol. 2, p. 48 J.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 30o
called in aid of the persecutions, the laws became inn uitelv
more refined, more subtle and more diabolical; so fright-
ful is religion when profaned to the purposes of villany!
The penalty of twenty shillings against the saffron -
coloured sleeves, when coupled with the murders and fcoi
tures inflicted by the pecp-cf-day-goxcrnment in our times
upon those who wore green, shews that whatever colours
or opinions were adopted by the Irish, they were alike to
be persecuted. As they had wide sleeves they were per-
secuted; had they narrow sleeves, they would have been
persecuted. Saffron was persecuted, and green was per-
secuted. Popery was persecuted; and, had they turned
Protestants, they would have been persecuted perhaps
more than ever the next day, and some new crime invent-
ed as a pretence for plundering them, For we can hardly
give the English, in queen Anne's time, credit for so
much stupidity as not to perceive, after so long expe-
rience, that persecutions could not prevent the ^roziih q£
Popery; for before their time it was a maxim established
that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church.
Se it as it may, we shall just observe, that the Catho-
i;ow ground into dust, deprived of education and
nerty, and every means of acquiring cither, because
■A in their native country. They had no part in the
nirig or execution of the laws, being excluded from the
parliament and the bench, and from juries and from, tin
ur. Their only duty was to bear with patience the penal-
ties inflicted on them, and be spectators of the ludicrous,
though interested, quarrels of their oppressors. When
any question under the penal laws was tried against them,
it was by a Protestant judge, a Protestant jury; and as
they had a Protestant prosecutor, so they must Jiave a Pyo-
304 ME MOID 9 OF
tojtant advocate. What justice they could look ior9
Heaven knows! They were shut out from all corporations
and offices, and every privilege belonging to freemen. If,
a Catholic made kettles in Bride street, a Protestant who
envied him, procured a corporation bye-law, that no Cath-
olic should work copper in Bride street. If they petitioned
they were kicked. In short, they were humbled below
the beasts of the field. The law of discovery, which
crowns the Popery code, was published without any pre-
nceof existing provocation or necessity; and if any thing
were wanting to stamp its complexion, it is the auspices
under which it passed. The royal assent was given
by Thomas Lord Wharton, whose character was thus
sketched by the masterly pen of Swift:
"Thomas Lord AVharton, by the force of a wonderful
constitution, had passed, by some years, his grand climac-
teric, without any visible effects of old age, either on his
body or his mind; and in spite of a continual prostitution
to those vices which usually wear out both. His behaviour
is in all the forms of a young man at five and twenty; whe-
ther he walks, or whistles, or swears, or talks bawdy, or
calls names, he acquits himself in each beyond a templar
of three years standing. He goes constantly to prayers in
the forms of his place, and will talk bawdy or blasphemy
at the chapel door. He is a presbyterian in politics and
an atheist in religion; he bad imbibed his father's princi-
ples of government, and took up no other in its stead; ex-
cepting that circumstance, he is a firm presbyterian. It
was confidently reported, as a conceit of his, that talking
upon the subject of Irish Bishops, he once said, with great
pleasure, he hoped to make his w e a b p.
"He is perfectly skilled in all the arts of managing at
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 305
elections, as well as in large baits of pleasure; for making
converts of young men of quality, upon their first appear-
ance; in which public service he contracted such large
debts, that the ministry in England were forced, out of
mere justice, to leave Ireland at his mercy, where he had
only time to set himself right; although the graver heads
of his party think him too profligate and abandoned, yet
they dare not be ashamed of him, for he is very useful iju
parliament, being a ready speaker, and content to employ
his gift upon such occasions, where those who conceive
they have any remains of reputation or modesty, ai^
ashamed to appear.
"He hath sunk his fortune by endeavoring to ruin one
kingdom, and hath raised it by going far in the ruin of
another. His administration of Ireland was looked upon
as a sufficient ground to impeach him, at least for high
crimes and misdemeanors; yet he has gained by the gov-
ernment of that kingdom, under two years, Jive and forty
thousand pounds, by the most favorable computation, half
in the regular way and half in the prudential.
"He is, says he, without the sense of shame or glory, as
Some men are without the sense of smelling, and therefore
a good name to him is no more than a precious ointment
would be to these,"
Mercy.
Mescy is allied to religion; where the latter is, the
former must ever be; and the kings of England, when they
■swear to be just, swear also to be merciful Why did their
pp
306 MEMOIRS OF
counsellors, so careful of their consciences, never remind
them of that coronation oath? On the contrary, we have
found them ever exciting them to unrelenting cruelties, bei-
cause they found their profit in those cruelties; and indeed
amongst the crime* committed on the Irish hy the English,
none seem more odious than their mercy.
Morrison (fol. 43) says, "that lord Mountjoy never
received any to mercy hut such as had drawn hlood upon
their fellow-rehels; thus M'Mahon and M'Artmoye offered
to submit, hut neither could he received without the other's
head." Was that religion?
And in the pardon granted to Minister, by Sir George
Carew, he says himself that priests and Romish clergy
were excepted. TFas that reformation?
When sir C. Wilmot took Lixnaw's Castle, he spared
the priest's life only to get Lixnaw's child delivered into
his hands. Was that Christian?
The English published a proclamation, inviting all well-
affected Irish to an interview on the Rathmore^ at Mal-
loughmartcn, and promising that no harm was intended
them, and engaging for their security, they came unsus-
pectingly, were surrounded hy bodies of cavalry and in-
fantry, and were put to the sword. Was that just?
Lord Thomas Gray went over to London on full promise
of a pardon, was arrested and executed. Lord Deputy
Gray had orders to seize five of his uncles; he invited
them to a banquet; they were seated with the treacherous
appearance of hospitality, but immediately seized, sent
prisoners to London and executed. f Was that good faith?
Queen Elizabeth, fearing, as she said herself, that the
tLelandj vol. 2, p. 153.
WIIIIAM SAMPSON. 30r
same feproach might be made to her as to Tiberius by
Bato; "It is you! you! who have committed your flocks,
not to shepherds, but wolves!" ordered Deputy Mount joy
to grant a general pardon in Munster.
But instead of that, the most horrid massacres took
place; and in order thereto a final extermination of the
people was attempted by burning their corn. And Mr.
Morrison says, that sir Arthur Chichester, sir Richard
Morrison and other commanders, witnessed a most horrid
spectacle of three children feeding on the flesh of their dead
mother! with other facts even more shocking. And the
Deputy and Council informed the Lords in England, by
letter, that they were credibly informed, that in the space
of three months, there had been above three thousand
starved in Tyrone alone! f
Morrison also says, "that no spectacle was more com-
mon in the ditches of towns, and especially in wasted coun-
tries, than to see multitudes of those poor people dead,
with their mouths all coloured green, by eating nettles,
docks, and all things they could rend above ground."
It would appear that tlie famine created by lord Clivc and
the English in India, was nothing so terrible as this.
It is curious to see how the English historians blind
themselves upon these subjects. I do not merely speak of
writers, such as sir Richard Musgrave, whose absurdities
defeat their own purpose. The Irish owe some obligation
to the government that pays such historians to write
against them. But it is incredible that a Scotch histo-
rian, liberal, enlightened and learned, such as Laing,
should not have shaken off such antiquated prejudices.
And that he should at the same time that lie accuses, with
t Com. Journals, vol. 1,
SpS MEMGTftS Of
becotaing spirit, the cruelties and massacres Committed by
the English in his own country, be guilty of the incon*
sistency of justifying the same crimes when committed up-
on the Irish. lie has drawn a picture of the massacres by
the array of O'Ncil, with all the glowing colours of a poet,
and yet has neither cited time, place or person. He lias
contradicted the most circumstantial, correct and authen-
tic Irish historians, upon no better authority than certain
manuscripts in Trinity College, of all other things the
most suspicious, as this university was endowed with the
very Confiscations that took place. These manuscripts
\re moreover the same from which Temple derived Ins
information, when he says, "that hundreds of the ghosts
of Protestants that were drowned by the rebels at Portna-
down bridge, were seen in the river, bolt upright, and
were heard to cry out for revenge on these rebels." "One
of these ghosts/' says he, "was seen with hands lifted up,
and standing from the 29th of December to the latter end
of the following lent." A principal deposition was by
Maxwell, bishop of Kilmore, whose credit is principally
relied on. He has described the different postures and
gestures of the ghosts, "as sometimes having been seen
by day and night, walking upon the river; sometimes
brandishing their naked swords; sometimes singing psalms,
and at other times shrieking in a most fearful and hideous
manner." He adds, "that he never so much as heard
any man doubt the truth thereof;" but he was candid
enough to say, "he obliged no man's faith, in regard he
saw them not with his own eyes; otherwise he had as much
certainty as could morally be required of such matters."!
t Borlase Hist of the Irish Rebellion, Ap. fol. 392. Surely
Mr. Laing is too wise to believe in ghosts!
WILlIAM SAMPSON. 30$
One word more, and I shall have wound up the history
of the Popery code.
In the reign of George I. (A. D. 1723) heads of a hill
were framed for explaining and amending the act to pre-
vent the growth of Popery, into which was introduced a
clause for the castration of all the Irish priests, and pre-
sented on the 15th of November, 1714, to the lord lieuten-
ant, by the commons, at the castle, who most earnestly
requested his grace to recommend the same in the most
effectual manner to his majesty, humbly hoping from his
majesty's goodiiess and his grace's zeal for his service,
arid the Protestant interest of the kingdom, that the same
might be passed into a law.
It was said to have been owing to the interposition of
C lal Fuelry, and his interest with Mr. Walpole, that
tli )ill, which was transmitted with such recommenda-
tion to England, was there thrown out. The duke of
Grafton (lord lieutenant) condoled with the Irish parlia-
ment upon the loss of their favorite bill; apologized for its
rejection, upon the ground that it was brought forward too
late in the session, and recommended a more vigorous ex-
ecution of the laws against the growing evil.
I believe you will be now convinced, that the history of
the universe contains nothing more atrocious than the per-
secutions of the Irish by the English, nothing more repug-
nant to civilization, nothing more base or more flagitious,
nothing more blasphemous or more profane, bidding a
bold defiance to every attribute by which the Creator has
distinguished the human species fx-om the ravening beasts
of prey.
With this remark I shall close my letter. I have
snatched from repose and from my daily occupations, the.
MEMOIRS OF
urs devoted to tins task. The night is nearly wasted;
§ie historic muse begins to droop her wing, and sleep site
heavy, heavy on her votary's eye-lids. Good night.
LETTER XXXV.
Theobald Tf'olf Tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the Crimes
nf the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with England—
Irishmen with Irishmen.
FOUR fifths of the Irish people being now an-
nulled, it can be of little importance what the other fifth
may do. Still more absurd do tlieir actions appear when
We see them divided into religious and political feuds,
scarcely less rancorous against each other than they had
all been against the ill-fated Catholics.
The dissenters in their zeal to proscribe their country
men, had gulphed down the sacramental test with the bill
rf discovery, and found themselves dupes of their own bigot-
ry, and excluded from every honorable privilege, and eve-
ry office of trust or emolument, civil or military. They
found themselves oppressed with tythes for the payment of
the Hierarchy; and obliged to contribute out of what re-
mained for the support of their own clergy. They clam-
ored, they remonstrated, they resisted in vain. They
were said to be a stiff-necked faction "whom no king could
govern, nor no god could please.'' It was said, and I was
told by my nurse, that they were black in the mouth.
They were ri&tnfed and reviled; and would probably have
W1XLIAM SAMPSON. 31 1
oeen Gnrmonded, but that the fear and hatred of the Catho-
lics threw a kind of protection over them. It is not my in-
tention to state all the arts of envy, hatred and malice,
which distinguished these latter times. Besides I was
once sworn to he true to the loins of the Princess Sophia of
Hanover, and I will be true to them. Whoever wants the
history of the succeeding reigns, will find it in the nick-
names of the times; Whig, Tory, High-church, Low-church,
Highflyer, Leveller, October-club, Clmrch ami State, Pro-
testant-ascendancy, and a hundred others .insignificant
enough to be forgotten, but ridiculous enough to be remem-
bered. The parliament was a market where men sold
themselves and their country to servitude; and the com-
modities by which this slave-trade was carried on, were
places, pensions and peerages; the staple was the people's
misery; the tactic only was changed. To confiscations
had succeeded taxes, and to violence corruption; and as to
religion, there were besides the great liolUico-religiom
sects, so many subdivisions, that it seemed, to use the
vords of the witty author of Hudibras,
«As if religion was intended
"For nothing else but to be mended."
However, commerce, printing, and the universal growth
of reason and philosophy, had opened the way to nobler
ideas. The American revolution had reduced the theories
of the great philosophers of England, France and other
countries, into practice; and persecutors began to find
themselves surprised like owls overtaken by the day.
Something I might say of the Irish volunteers, not for
their resistance to England, for that was not much; but for
this, that they did make some honorable offers of concilia-
312 MEMOIRS 0¥
tiou to their Catholic brethren. I might say much of the
unrivalled eloquence of so many Irish orators, at whose
head I should place the sublime Burke, and the inimitable
Sheridan; but that there was in every one of them some-
thing; short of the true patriot; something tending to ex-
clusion or party.
At length, however, a young man appeared, whose clear
and comprehensive mind, seized at one view, the whole
range of this wide field of disorder and strife; develloped
the cause, and proposed the remedy for the maladies of his
Fong suffering country.
Theobald Wolfe Tone
"Was born June 20, 1765. His grand-father was a Pro-
testant freeholder in the county of Kildare; his father a
coach-maker in Dublin. His infancy gave promise of
such talents, that the cultivation of his mind was consider-
ed the best fortune his parents could bestow.
He studied in the university of Dublin, where he wag
early and eminently distinguislied; in the Historical Socie-
ty he twice carried off the prize of oratory, once that of
history; and the speech he delivered from the chair, when,
auditor, was deemed the most finished on the records of
the societv.
During his attendance on the inns of court in London,
he had opportunities of comparing the state of the English
nation with that of his own; of perceiving all the advan-
tages of a national, and the degradation of a colonial gov-
ernment; and there imbibed that principle which governed
WILLIAM sampson, 51
..•
him through the remainder of his life; ajid to which his life
was at length a sacrifice.
In the year 1790, on his return from the temple, he-
wrote his first pamphlet, under the signature of an Irish
Whig, where he thus declared his principles: **/ am no
occasional Whig; I am no constitutional tory; lam, addicted
to no party but the party of the nation.^
This work was re-published hy the Northern Whig
Club, and read with great avidity; and the writer was
called upon to avow himself; which he did, and became a
member of that body.
He was complimented also by the whigs of Dublin.
They proposed putting him in parliament, and Mr. George
Ponsonby employed him professionally on his election and
petition.
In the same year he wrote, (ian enquiry, how far Ireland
is bound to support England in the approaching war,"
wherein he openly broached his favorite question of separa-
tion; and in 1791, the Argument on behalf of the Catholics;
a work of extraordinary merit.
It is remarkable, that at that time he was scarcely ac-
quainted with any one Catholic, so great was the separa-
tion which barbarous institutions had created between men
of the same nation, formed by nature to befriend and love
each other.
The Catholics, struck with admiration at this noble and
disinterested effort of a stranger, repaid him by the best
compliment in their power to bestow; he was invited to
I become secretary to their committee, with a salary of
two hundred pounds, which he accepted.
He was entrusted to draw up their petition; a mark of
liberal distinction, and honorable to the Catholic body, as
<lrl
SH MEMOIR'S of
there were not wanting amongst themselves men of tran-
scendant talents; and lie accompanied their delegates when
; hey presented it to the king.
The Catholic convention voted him their thanks, a gold
medal, and fifteen hundred pounds!
Being so honorably identified with the great body of .
iiis countrymen, his next efforts were directed to'the bring-
ing about a union between the Catholics and Dissenters of
the >^orth. In this he was seconded by the enlightened of
both parties, and succeeded to the extent of his wishes.
The favorite project of the Dissenters was parliamenta-
ry reform; that of the Catholics, naturally, their own
emancipation. He rallied them both upon the wicked ab-
surdity of their past distentions; upon the happy prospects
of future union; shewing, that the restoration of the Cath-
olics to the elective franchise, was the best security for
parliamentary reform, and how insignificant all reform
must be, which excluded four fifths of a nation!
In 1795, he again accompanied the delegates with their
petition on tire subject of the recall of lord Fitz-William.:
and when he resigned his office of secretary to retire to
America, the society voted him their thanks, with a fur-
ther compliment of three hundred pounds for services which
they said, "no consideration could over-rate, nor no re-
muneration over-pay."
The remainder of his political life cannot be better un-
derstood, than by reading his speech to the court-martial,
met to pass judgment on his life. (>&pp. No. III. already
referred to.) At the time he withdrew from Ireland, I was
but little concerned in politics, but admired him for the
brilliancy and great variety of his conversation, the gay
and social cast of his disposition, I loved him more be»
wiixtam sA^irsosr. 515
cause I thought him an honest man; and although it has
been his fate to suffer as a traitor, I have not changed my
mind. And after the hideous treasons we have just passed
in review, it is grateful to find one treason at last founded
upon principles of Christian charity, philosophy and rea-
son. Tone was the founder of that union amongst "Irish-
men of every religious persuasion" first adopted in Belfast,
and afterwards throughout the kingdom, and in opposition
to which, the governing faction set up the principles of a
plundering mob, called "peep-qf-daij-boys" since called
for more distinction "Orangemen" and raised to such a
pre-eminence, that they now govern the councils in Eng-
land and the conscience of the king, by the stile and title
of "710 Popertj." But when upon the altar of Union and
reconciliation were offered up the lives of the most virtuous
Irishmen of "all religious persuasions" and that altar was
cemented with their comingled blood, there was a trophy
erected to the memory of Tone, more durable than brass
or marble, and which neither terror, corruption, nor time
itself, can shakc."f
t So true it is, that no religious party was excluded from
this Union, that the established church furnished the greatest
proportion of those victims with whom government broke
Taith, and who were secluded in the dungeons of Fort George;
and of twenty that were there, four only were Catholics;
so little was this rebellion a war of Popery.
MEMOIRS OF
Of my own Crimes..
HcerIeii as I am, I cannot at this time give you a
History of tlic late rebellion. The progress of the United
Irishman you will find in the pieces of Irish history,
given by those who had better means of knowing it; for I
was long, very long, in taking any part, and never much
in any secret.
Being of the favored cast, and far from having any
personal griefs, the road to advancement on the contrary
very open to me, I could have no motive but that of com-
passion for my country. I never was inclined to political
contention; and it required strong conviction to move me
to sedition. But there are moments, when to be passive,
is to be criminal; as when we see a murder committed be-
fore our eyes, and do not stretch our hand. The griefs of
Irishmen are undeniable; but when torture and every other
enormity was superadded to those wrongs, the voice of a
nation and the laws of God set openly at defiance, I asked
myself by what tie I was bound to submit? for I had not
sworn allegiance to the Prince of Darkness.
You ask me what were the crimes chiefly imputed to me?
I will answer to the best of my knowledge and with truth;
some writings of mine first gave offence. In 1796 I pre-
dicted, in a pamphlet called Advice to the Rich, the union
with England, as it afterwards happened; and endeavored
to shew, that the government were stimulating the nation
to rebellion for that end. I was also, at the time I was
arrested, engaged to write a history of the transactions of
the day.
I have lately searched through all the reports, resolu-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 317
lions and official documents of the times, and can find men-
tion of my name but on two occasions. The one, when it
was a question of my acquaintance with Mr. Grattan; but.
at that time Mr. Grattan was in disgrace with his present
friends, and it was an honor to be acquainted with him,
for be was acting well. The next crime was having re-
ceived seventy -Jive guineas for the defence of United Irish-
men. This circumstance deserves a word or two. That
very seventy-Jive guineas which I dearly earned, I receiv-
ed at Down-Patrick, in 1797. Mr. Curran was specially
retained for the same defences. We were but two. The
judges, for more dispatch,, tried the prisoners in both the
civil and criminal court; and lest we should be insufficient
for the duty we had undertaken, I gave one half of my fee
to Mr. Dobbs, and the other to Sergeant Ball, to engage
them to assist us. This may be a crime to warrant the
incarceration of an Irishman in his own country; but I am
now in a country and member of a bar, by whom I shall
not be worse looked upon for having done an act of
charity.
Such are the answers which Irishmen can return to the
virulent malice of their enemies. "When any of mine shall
dare to accuse me of any other crime, I pledge myself to
give as full an answer. And tiiis besides I dare affirm,
that although now an exile, were the terror for one day
suspended in my country, and the voices of my country-
men freely taken, nine tenths would vote for my recall.
MEMOIRS OF
Of libe Crimes of the Irish Rebels.
To say that the rchels never committed any crimes,
would be deservedly to lose my credit for veracity. I can
only say I never saw them; but I saw and felt bitterly
those committed by their enemies. And I believe there
was no crime or cruelly which they could perpetrate, for
which they had not ready precedents in the Irish statute
books, the records of their history, and the memorable
examples of their own times. They had no need to hold a
parliament; it was but to substitute the word English for
Irish, and Protestant for Catholic, and they had the sanc-
tion of kings, lords and commons, for every possible enor-
mity. Would they burn the castle of the lord? He had
taught them by burning the cottage of the peasant* Would
they murder the innocent? Gracious Heaven! how many
pointed authorities could they not find in the murder of
those they adored? Would they torture? They found
irons, scourges, pickets, and pitch-caps, amongst the bag-
gage of their enemies. Would they kidnap? It was but to
empty the dungeons and prison-ships, let out their friends
and put their persecutors in. Would they exact of men to
change their religion? It was but enforcing the acts of
conformity and uniformity. Was there a massacre at Scul-
labogue? Was there none, after promise of quarter, and
therefore more infamous, at the Curragh of Kildare?
Would they put their enemies out of the protection of the
law, had not their enemies already put them out of the
king's peace? Would they disarm them, had they not the
gnn-powder bill? Would they deny them the right of
petitioning for mercy, had they not the convention bill?
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 319
Would they depopulate a province, had they not the exam-
ple of Carhampton? Would they make men "tamer
than gelt cats" had they not that atrocious and insolent
denunciation of the Chancellor, Lord Claref to sanction
themPf Would they half-hang them, had they not a
thousand examples? Would they execute them by torch-
light, had they not the acts of the grand-jurors of Louth:
Would they violate their women, had they not the honor
of their own wives and daughters crying vengeance in
their ears? Would they employ against them the agency
of informers and spies, the scum and refuge* of the creation,
had they not Armstrong, Reynolds, Hughes, Sirr, Sands,
Swan, Newell, Murdoch, Button and 0' Brian, and a myr-
iad besides? Would they confiscate their estates, were
those estates not plundered from themselves? Would they
commit the power of life and death over their persons to
the meanest and most ignorant of mankind, were not
foreign mercenaries already justices of peace?\ Could
there be a crime invented or named for which they had no
precedent? And briefly, what had they more to do than
' open the statute book and read the acts of indemnity for
these applauded deeds of "ardent loyalty and vigor beyond
the law?" I will then only ask this one question: was
that precept good which God revealed to man, to "do unto
others as they would it should be done unto therm" Let
us then learn to abhor all crimes alike. Let us not cant
like hypocrites on one side, and be obdurate as devils on
t A remarkable circumstance is, that this Chancellor, by
the kick of a horse, suffered a privation similar to that with
which he threatened his countrymen, and died in consequence
\ To so great a length was this wonderful abuse carried on.
that lord Cornwallis issued an order, that they should not, in
future, act as JUSTICES, until they were of. age..
i520 MEMOIRS Ol
the other. Let us hasten to do away unjust calumnies;
which serve to provoke, but never to reform. Let men be
impartial, that they may enjoy peace. Let those who
have been cruel, by future acts of liberal justice and un-
feigned contrition, wipe away, if it yet be possible, the
stings of deadly injury. The present unnatural order of
human things cannot endure. The delirium of antiphiloso-
phy, and the fever of antipatriotism , cannot long be sus-
tained. Already the sneer of the sycophant, and sauciness
of the protected jackanapes, and the insolence of the fool,
begin to "stink in the nostrils of men." Out of the ca-
lamities of mankind, a new order must arise. Let us
raise our thoughts to the dignity of such an sera, and
cease to be obstinate in unWorthiness; and let those whose
ambition aims at distinction, seek it in the furtherance of
human liberty and the welfare of their species.
Sut to return. Whether the rebels did act as cruelly as
their adversaries, let lord Kingsborough answer; he was
in their hands, and he was released, as were other men of
no less power and note, who had exhausted their imagina-
tion in devising and executing tortures.
At the close of the appendix, you will find a few instances
of the atrocities committed upon the Irish; from which you
may faintly conceive the universal misery of a country
where such deeds were without number.
Summary.
Tnrs for six hundred years and more, have we seen
our country exposed to never ceasing torments, and strug-
gling against oppressions as cruel as absurd.
WILLIAM SAMP-SON". .321
We have seen, that it was not, as the ignorant imagine,
or the crafty affect to think, in the fortuitous accidents of
the times, that its late troubles had their origin.
It was a chronic malady, and the agitations of our day?
were but its symptoms. The quack may assume importance
from the seeming cure, but the disease still burns like a
covered fire.
All nations have had their civil distentions and their
wars; but Ireland has groaned unremittingly under the
blighting and corrupting influence of foreign and jealous
domination.
Her fruitful soil has been laid waste with fire and sword,
confiscated to the profit of adventurers and plunderers,
and much of it (a seeming paradox) three times' confis-
cated, first in the hands of its ancient and lawful owners,
and then in those of the confiscators themselves.
We have seen that country? formed by nature's hand for
happiness, prosperity and universal commerce, afflicted
with misery, beggary and bondage; her native inhabitants
removed from the soil which their ancestors once cultivat-
ed, that animals might be raised to feed a British navy,
the enemy of their commerce and of the world's repose; or
to nourish India planters, not an ounce of whose produce in
return they could import in ships of their own nation.
The very fleeces of the flocks they fed, made prize to the
cupidity of British manufacturer's; to whose selfish princi-
ples the Irish manufactures have been ever' sacrificed.
And on those provisions, raised at the expense of human
existence, and exported from a country wherethe people
starve, within the space of forty years, twenty -three em-
bargoes were laid, to favor the exclusive avarice of Lead-,
522 MEMOIRS OE
cnhall contractors; and the fortunes of thousands thereby
often ruined in a day.
From the stinted revenues of this wretched country, mil-
lions drained annually to supply the luxuries of absentees,
the most malignant of our enemies, revilers, and vitupera-
tors.
A place and pension list of an extravagance so gigantic,
filled by such characters (from the German Prince, down
to the servile satelite of St. James') that the Livre Rouge
of Versailles compared to it, would blush a still deeper
red at its own paltry insignificance!
A people, victims of rapacity, naked, poor, and hungry,
deprived of education, robbed of their liberty and natural
rights, who lay them down in weariness, and rise but to
new toils!
A debt which, in the short period of the last twenty-four
years, has increased from two to sixty millions sterling/
in the contemplation of which the Irish have but one senti-
ment of consolation, that in their insolvency they are se-
cure. And that the prodigal, for whose use it has been
raised, must answer for it with his own, and God knows
how!
Union of Ireland with England — Irishmen with Irishmen.
After so many ages of civil war and carnage, how
lovely to the ear sounds the hallowed name of Union,- but
not that union which binds the slave to his master, the
sufferer to his tormentor, the wretch to his oppressor,
Not that union formed by a parliament the scourge and
WIXXIAM SAMPSON 3&B
execration of their own country, the scorn and derision of
Uie minister who bought them like slaves, and jceringly
pretend to have bought their country with them. Not tliat
union made by those "lives and fortune's men," who had
pledged themselves so sacredly to God and to their country,
by tests, resolutions and oaths, to resist every innovation
whatsoever in the constitution of their country, and with
those declarations, in months, had ruthlessly dragged their
tortured countrymen to the scaffold and the gibbet.
Think it not then, Englishmen, that because our dwel-
lings are consumed by fire, and our bodies Lacerated with
instruments of torture, that we are therefore united to you.
It is not because we have been in the damp and cheer-
less abyses of the vaulted dungeons, 'or worn out joyless
seasons in the filthy holds of prison-ships and tenders, that
we are united to you.
It is not because insult and ignominy have defiled the
purity of our habitations, and that scarce a virtuous fami-
ly but has its beloved victim to deplore, that we should be
united to you.
It is not because you have corrupted our parliament
with two millions sterling, bribed our aristocracy, and
dragooned our people, that we are united to you.
It is not because you have lavished the treasures, merci-
lessly wrung from the hands of .suffering wretchedness, with
wanton prodigality upon panders, hangmen and informers,
chat we are united to you.
It is not because you have trafficked with the word of
God, and treacherously inflamed the ignorant to bigotry,
and the bigot to atrocity, seeking to excite amongst us
every unkind and wicked^passion of the soul, that we are
now united to you.
j.h MEM01B9 OF
It is not because stifling enquiry, refusing evidence, you
mock us with the ghastly tonus of murdered law, and mas-
sacre us in defiance of its very forms, that we are united to
you.
It is not because usurping every organ of the public
voice, you have, through a host of hirelings, filled the uni-
verse with your injurious ribaldry, covering your own
cruelties and faithbreakings with the villain's argument
of necessity, or the prostituted name of Justice, that we are
united to you.
It is not because, like the devoted victims of the auto da
fe, you have blackened and disfigured us, lest sympathy or
compassion should any where console us; exaggerated
whatever vicics we may have, and which we owe alone to
youy corrupting influence, and scoffed at the virtues that
adorn us, that we are united to you.
It is not because every man, most honored and beloved
amongst us, has been ruined and immolated: and every
one most odious amongst us raised to power and office,
that we are united to vou.
Believe me, those arts, but too successful heretofore,
will not long suffice. The blighting shade which you had
cast upon us, is hourly dissipating. The manifest con-
viction of crimes, at which human nature shudders, hangs
over your own heads! You are not now at war with us
alone, but with the universe. Our cause already brightens
through the clouds of calumny and terror. The virtuous
and the generous of your own country are daily undeceiv-
ed, and will with cordiality atone for the wrongs they have
often ignorantly and innocently done us. Foreign nations
have felt the perfidy of your alliance, the impotence of your
protection, the sting of your pride! Amongst them alre»-
WILLIAM SAMPSON. S2p
dy does our suffering cause find favor! And though we do
not lift a hand against you, the workings of humanity, no
longer biassed nor perverted, will succour the unfortunate;
and the moral force of opinion, stronger than hosts in ar-
mor, will mine your cruel empire and palsy your misused
power. Those of us who, to gain your favor, have be-
trayed their country, will sink into contempt with the
world, with you and with themselves. The trappings and
mock honors with which you have invested them, like
splendid liveries, will mark their servile state; nor shall
the wages of their iniquities protect them from due infamy.
In vain then, will you call those, dear to the cause of vir-
tue and honored in their country, traitors! An impartial
generation will weigh us against each other. You will be
no longer our judges and accusers. Stripped of those
casual honors and ill-earned distinctions which had been
ours, had we not scorned to win them by corruption, we
shall be measured with one measure. Then will it be
seen whose stature and proportions are most goodly,
whose morals are most pure, whose reason most enlight-
ened, whose courage most true. If you be found then t»-
excel us, it will be in vice and not in virtue, in meanness,
not in dignity. And no longer will tbc love of country,
which in all climes and ages has been honored as the first
of virtues, be held a crime in Irishmen alone.
Tlie time may come and may be near at hand, when you
may find it necessary once again to call on us to take up
•arms and fight your battles.
For whom, for what should Irishmen now light? Why
should the fallen be proud? Why should the slave be loftier
than his state? Against whom should he shake his chains
but him that hung theto on him? Go you who wear the
r^6
MEMOIRS OF
spoils, fight for your booty! He is the lawful prize to hinl
that wins the battle.
Who is enemy to Irishmen? A tyrant and a despot.
Is it indeed? If so, we have not far to seek our enemy.
Who made the mighty despot? It was you dull minis-
ters. You strewed his paths with flowers, tendered the
ladder to his young ambition, and were his humbte foot-
stools. He was most mighty in your littleness. He had one
enemy, and only one, that could withstand him. That
was Liberty! That liberty both you and he combined
to stifle; but both must fall before it.
You scorned her alliance. You frighted her from off
the very earth. Your pestilential breath empoisoned her.
You scoffed and railed at her so wondrous wittily, that
though you tlied for it you could not win her back again.
But when you saw your enemy on high, and seated in the
throne of mortal glory, and all the universe cry, "hail
great Caesar!" amazed and stupified at your own folly,
hut pertinacious still in wickedness, you thought to cure
your mischiefs by new crimes. Must we too share in your
inglorious warfare, infernal machinations, and your plots?
Must we, who would not take your ignominious lives by
undue means, become assassins now to do you service?
Mast we now war against the harmless Danes? Must we
bring fsre and sword into that new and happy country
where all our hopes and half our kindred dwell?
Arc there no other kings to coalesce with? Have you
then ruined all? Why then stand forth and fight your
battles singly, and let the Irish rest in sullen peace? If
liberty be truly such a jest as you have taught the world
to think it is; if it be odious, felony and treason, why would
you bid us now to fight for liberty? Jf we must serve a
\
WIIXIAM SAMPSON. olf
despot, let it be a splendid one and we shall be less galled,
'Fhe wretched bondsman cannot lose by changing. To
him the mightiest master is the best. If we must be hum-
bled, it is better still to fall before the Lion than tha.
Wolf. Who is now the wolf?
But Irishmen are generous, brave and loyal. They
will forgive their wrongs, forget your insults and march
against the invader. Be it so. But who is this invader?
Comes he with racks and scourges to scatter reeking
gibbets through our land, to pike our heads as monuments
of scorn? Comes he with full battalions of ivformers?
Does he invite men to lay down their arms, and then break
faith with them and murder them? Will he deflower our
wives and burn our houses? Beware, that we mistake not
friend for foe. But no! we know him by his warlike
standards. He bears the picket, pitch-cop and the fire-
brand. His music is, the cry of women's grief; that's our
invader, that our mortal enemy; look to him well, he'll
rob us of our Liberty.
But e'er we fight, go call at Edward's tomb,f cry in
his ears, bid him who sleeps to wake, bid him to rise and
fight his enemies. Brave as the lion, gentler than the
lamb, the sparkling jewel of an ancient house, the aoblest
blood of any in our land, and nobler than your king's,
ran through his veins. He hears you not; he sleeps to
wake no more! Of all his country, and of all he owned,
there rests no more to him than the cold grave he lies in?
Oh gallant, gallant Edward, fallen in the flower of
youth and pride of manly beauty; had you lived to see
t Lord Edward Fitzgerald, brother to the late Duke of
Leinster.
328 MEMOIRS OF
your country free, the proudest conqueror that wears a
sword dared not invade it.
Go call his children by their noble sire to come and
fight the battles of their country. What sire? what coun-
try? They have no father, for you murdered him! They
have no country but the green sod that rests upon his
grave! You robbed their guiltless infancy, tainted their
innocent blood, plundered their harmless cradles!
Go than to Crosby's tomb!f His only crime was, that
he was beloved. Call Colclough, Esmond, Grogan, Har-
vey, still nobler in their virtues than in their station and
their ancient heritage.
Call whole devoted families, whom you have swept from
off the face of their native soil; they cannot fail but rise
and stand for you.
The name of Feeling will be precious to you. Call
those two brothers, whose hearts in life were joined, in
death united, hung on one gibbet, beheaded with one axe.
Bid the two Shearses rise and fight for you, and die again
together in their country's cause; they will befriend you.
There were two brother Tones, no ordinary souls. Bid
them rise too from out their common grave and fight to-
gether for you. He that first led his countrymen to uniofy
will lewad them now to victory.
Call on the multitude of reverend men of all the various
sects of Christian faith, whom you have murdered. Cali
on them by the sacred office of their priesthood, and by
that God, whose holy word they taught, to pray for you.
But if they sleep too sound, or will not hearken, go to the
f Sir Edward Crosby, Bart.
WILLIAM SAMPSON. Sfi#
Socks they led, and they will follow you with many and
many a blessing.
Call from the earth where Porter's ashes lie, the gentle
emanations of his genius, the lucid beams of mild philoso-
phy; you want such lights; they will be very serviceable.
Go to Belfast, and parley with the heads you there im-
paled, those silent witnesses of your humanity, who gave
to all that looked askance and terrified upon them, such
moving lessons of your mild persuasion as won all hearts
to love you; those tongueless monitors were passing elo-
quent; bid them now speak for you; they will recruit you
soldiers that will honor you and draw their willing sword/3
to fight your battles.
Call upon Russel, whose once gentle heart you turned
to desperate madness, and slew him like a ruffian.
Invoke the crowd of brave and gallant victims, whom
"inemory cannot count, nor choice select,"]; and you will
have an army strong in numbers, stronger in well tried
courage and in Union.
But if this cannot be, and victory declares against your
ruffian banners, remember Orr! He was the first that
gave his life to Union; Emmet the last that sealed it
with hie blood. Their parting words may teach you how
to die!
But no, you will not, dare not, die like them? You
Will betray your country first an hundred times; and rath-
er than meet death as men should do, lay at the con-
t See the Answer of Mrs. Tone to the Hibernian Provident
Society, on receiving a medalliori presented by them in honor
of her husband, where this sentiment is elegantly conveyed*
(See Appendix M. XVI.)
s s
J3'0 MEMOIRS OP ,
fpieror's feet your city's charter and your monarch**
frowi>.+
LETTER XXXVl.
The Irish Emigrant.
BORN in the country of affliction; his days wera
dAys of sorrow. He tilled the soil of his fathers, and was
an alien in their land He tasted not of the fruits which
grew by the sweat of his brow. He fed a foreign land-
lord, whose face he never saw, and a minister of the gos-
pel, whose name he hardly knew; an unfeeling bailiff was
his tyrant, and tl*e tax-gatherer his oppressor. Hunted
by unrighteous magistrates, and punished by unjust
judges. The soldier devoured his substance and laughed
his complaints to scorn. He toiled the hopeless day, and
at night lay down in weariness. Yet noble he was of
heart, though his estate was lowly. His cottage was open
to the poor. He brake his children's bread, and ate of it
sparingly, that the hungry might have share. He wel-
comed the benighted traveller, and rose with the stars of
the morning to put him on his way. But his soul repined
within him, and he sought relief in change, He had
heard of a land where the poor were in peace, and the
labourer thought worthy of his hire, where the blood of
his fathers had purchased an asylum. He leads the aged
t Jeffries and Kirk were as treacherous as they were atro.
clous*
WILLIAM SAMPSON, 331
parent whom love grappled to his heart. He "bears his
infants in his arms. His wife followed his weary steps.
They escape from the barbarous laws that would make
their country their prison. They cross the trackless
ocean, they descry the promised land, and hope brightens
the prospect to their view; but happiness is not for him.
The ruthless spirit of persecution pursues him through the
Waste of the ocean. Shall his foot never find rest, nor his
heart repose? No! the prowling bird of prey hovers on
Columbia's coast. Wafted on eagle wings, the British
pirate comes, ravishes the poor fugitive from the partner
of his sorrows and the tender pledges of their love. See
the haggard eyes of a father to whom nature denies a
tear! a stupid monument of living death. He would inter-
pose his feeble arm, but it is motionless; he would bid
adieu, but his voice refuses its office. The prop of his de-
clining years torn remorselessly from hefore him, he
stands like the blasted oak, dead to hope and every earthly
joy!
Was it not then enough that tlus victim of oppression
iiad left his native land to the rapacity of its invaders?
.Might he not have been permitted to seek a shelter in the
gloom of the wilderness? No! the ruthless spirit of perse-
cution is not yet sated with his sufferings. The torments
bf one element exhausted, those of another are now pre-
pared for him. Enslaved to scornful masters, the authors
of his misery, and forced to fight the battles of those his
soul abhors. Death, that relieves the wretch, brings wo
relief to him, for he lived not for himself, but for those more
dear to him than life. Not for himself does he feel the win-
ter's blast, but for those who arc now unprotected, house-
less and forlorn. Where shall his wife now wander, when
33,-2 MEMoras OF
maddened with despair? Where shall his father lay his
wearied hours? Where shall his innocent bahes find food,
unless the ravens feed them? Oh hard and cruel men!
Oli worse than hellish fiends! may not the poor find pity?
What's he that now reviles them? beshrew his withered
heart.
Oh Stewart! Oh West! children of genius, sons of Co-
lumbia! where are now your pencils? Will you profane
the bounteous gifts of nature, in flattering the mighty
and the great? and withhold a nobler aid to the cause of
the poor and the afflicted?
WILLIAM SAMPSON. SS'S
A LETTER
From New-York, to the Right Honorable
LORD SPENCER,
His Britannic Majesty's Frincij)al Secretary of Slate.
FOR THE HOME DEPARTMENT.
Jly Lord,
According to your orders, I was land-
ed in this city on the 4th of July, 1 806, by captain Sutton,
of the Windsor Castle. I was sorry his majesty's minis-
ters had judged it unsafe that I should be seen at Halifax,
as I had need to recruit my health and to reinforce my
principles. I feared to distress your lordship's humanity
with the account of my sufferings, or I should have written
sooner. My first sickness was the Yellow Jaundice, of
which I nearly died: I was afterwards seized with the
Rheumatism, and nearly lost my limbs. I am now, thank
God, in good health and spirits, and shall take every
means of shewing myself grateful for past favors.
The day I arrived, they were commemorating their
Independence, carousing, singing republican songs, drink-
ing revolutionary toasts, bonfires blazing, cannons firing*
and Huzzaing for Liberty!!!
Si\ MEMOIRS ot
I was in expectation that tlic lord mayor would have
brought Die military and tired on them; hut the mayor is
not a lord; and I was informed he was seen drinking with
some of the soldiers. They were also making an out -cry
about a Yankee sailor called Pearce, that was kii'ed-qff
by captain Whitby. It is a pity we hadn't them in Ire-
land, we might have ten thousand of them shot in a day,
and not a word about them.
I would have gone to the barracks myself to inform
against them; but there was no barrack. The soldiers
live in their own houses and sleep with their own wives.
Nay more, they have counting-houses, clerks, ware-houses,
ships, coaches, country-seats, the like was never seen
amongst common soldiers.
I asked if there was no clergyman that was a justice of
peace, to head the military? They shewed me a bishop, a
mild, venerable looking old gentleman, that would not
know which end of a gun to put foremost, fitter to give a
blessing than to lead a corporal's guard, no vigor, no en-
srgif. And they say the clergy dont act as justices in
rhis country. Indeed the clergy here are not like certain
clergy, as your lordship shall judge.
There is not a clergyman of any description in New-
York, nor as far as I can learn, in all America, that can
lead a concert, or play upon the fiddle, or that dances or
manages an assembly, or gets drunk, or rides in at the
death of a fox, or that wears a ruffled shirt, or sings a
bawd}' song, or keeps a mistress: All they do is to marry
the young people, christen their children, visit the sick,
comfort the afflicted, go to church, preach twice or thrice
on a Sunday, teach the living how to live, and the dying
how to die: they are pure in their lives, uncorruptible jn
WIIXIAM SAMP90N. 335
their morals, and preach universal love and toleration;
and what is more unaccountable, tl*ey have no tythes, and
they live in the very midst of their congregations. If I
might be bold to suggest any thing, and it would not be
counted over-zealous, I could wish there was a good book
written against this abuse of tythes; and I think, my lord,
that Anacreon Moore would be a very proper person: It
would be a good means of preventing emigration.
As to the government; at the head of it is an old coun-
try philosopher. I wish your lordship could get a sight of
one of his shoes, with quarters up to his ancles, and tied
with leather thongs. He has neither chamberlain nor
vice-chamberlain, groom of the stole nor of the bed-cham-
ber, master of the ceremonies, nor gentleman-usher of
the privy-chamber, nor black rod, nor groom, nor page of
the privy-chamber, nor page of the back stairs, nor mes-
senger to his robes, (lie has no robes) nothing but red
breeches, which are now a jest, and a thread-bare one; no
laundress for his body-linen, nor starcher, nor necessary-
Woman. He will talk with any body, like the good-na-
tured Vicar of Wakefield. If the stranger talks better
than him, he is willing to learn; if he talks better, he is
willing the stranger should profit He is a simple gentle-
man every way, and keeps his own conscience and his own
accounts; pays his own debts and the nation's debts; and
has hoarded up eight millions and a half of dollars in the
treasury. Your lordship will smile at such an oddity.
We do all we can to shake him, we do all we can to vex
him, we do all we can to remove him. He is like a wise
old Dervise. He will not he shaken, he will not be vexed,
he will not be moved. If he gets up, we say he is too talk
If he sits down, we say he is too short. U we think lie wiK.
S36 MEMOIRS OF
go to war, we say he is bloody. If we think he is for
peace, we say he is a coward. If he makes a purchase,
we say he ought to take it by force. If he will not perse-
cute, we say l>e has no energy. If he executes the law,
we say he is a tyrant. I think, my lord, with great def-
erence, that a good London quarto might be written and
thrown at his head, fie has no guards nor battle-axes,
and dodges all alone upon his old horse, from the Pres-
ident's house to the Capitol. There might be an en-
graving to shew him hitching his bridle to a peg. The
stranger in America might write the book; but he need
not call himself the stranger, it appears clear enough from
his works. If it could be possible to confine those works
against emigration to home circulation, it would be better;
they appear rather ridiculous in this country; for they
know here, as well as your lordship, that people are the
riches of a nation. I would humbly recommend a prohibi-
tion of their exportation. If Mr. Parkinson writes any
more, would your lordship have the goodness to let him
know, that there has been no yellow fever since I came to
America; but that in return the catadids have created great
disturbance? A good work against the catadids might pre-
vent emigration. Tell him, if your lordship pleases, that the
butter is no better than it was when he was here; and the
pigs remain unreconciled to the peaches. The timothy
grass grows straight up, and so does the duck grass-
apropos, the ducks here go on the water like those of Eng-
land; but they swim hardest against the stream. Twelve
barrels of plaister in Massachusetts go as far as a dozen
in any other state; and'there is but one head upon a stock of
wheat, and the grass grows rankest in the wet ground.
A work of this nature may serve to prevent the lovers of
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 337
good butter and pork from coming to America, and pre-
vent emigration. They boil their cabbage in fresh water,
and throw the water out.
All the other departments are as ridiculous as the exec-
tivej and one of his majesty's cream-coloured Hanoverian
horses has more servants than their Secretary of State.
They have no lords nor beggars. We must try to have
beggars. A little work upon that might put things in a
strong light.
Their judges are without wigs, and their lawyers with-
out gowns. This might be called bald justice and stinted
eloquence.
There is no energy in the execution of the law. One
constable with a staff will march twenty prisoners. Your
lordship knows a country where every man has a soldier
to watch him with a musket.
The government here makes no sensation. It is round
about you like the air, and you cannot even feel it. A
good work might be written upon that to prevent emigra-
tion, by shewing that the arts of government are not
known.
There are very few showmen or mountebanks, a proof
of a dull plodding people, all being about their own af-
fairs. This might be stated to prevent idlers from coming.
But as there is little temptation for that class, it is not
worth a book.
They have no decayed nor potwollopping boroughs,
which render ktheir parliament a stiff machine. Their
candidates are not chaired, and throw no sixpences among
the mob. This might be used to prevent the emigration
of the mob.
I dont like their little one gun ships of the line. If they
Tt
>38 MEMOIRS OF
arc so wicked -when they are little, what will they be wheti
they grow big?
I believe Decatur to be a dangerous man; I had it from
the ex-bashaw of Tripoli. And Preble, I fear, is as bad;
though the bashaw did not tell me so. However, if we
dont come near them, they can do us no harm. I hope
your lordship will not count me over-zealous in my re-
marks, and that they may not be considered altogether un-
worthy of your lordship's wisdom. Your lordship having
been first lord of the admiralty is the best judge of gun-
boats.
The inventions of this people are becoming every day
more alarming. They sold their card-making machine
to the English for twenty thousand pounds sterling! and
now they say they can make one for fftij guineas. Might
not some addresses be advisable from the Manchester
fustian -weavers?
They have made a Steam-Boat to go against wind
and tide, seven miles in the hour, an alarming circum-
stance to the coach-making trade. A work might be
written against the emigration of coach-makers and en-
titled JVo Steam Boat.
The burning of Patterson Mills was very fortunate; but
the Eastern and Southern manufacturers would require to
be burned.
It is time the country was taken out of their hands.
They are committing daily waste upon the woods, and dis-
figuring the face of nature with villages, turnpikes and
canals. They are about stopping up two miles and a half
of sea, which they call the Narrows, though I endeavor
to persuade them of the advantage of a free passage for his
WIIXIAM SAMPSON, 339
majesty's ships of war up to this city, and put before their
eyes the example of Copenhagen.
That Chesapeake business has burst the bubble, and
shews that many of those we counted upon here, are Ameri-
cans in their hearts, and will not do any serious mischief
to their own country. Their wranglings, I fear, are like
those of our own whig and tory, and will profit us nothing.
But there is yet a means left. And if your lordship
will send me a hundred thousand pounds by the Windsor
Castle, I shall lose not an instant to set about it. It will,
I hope, be no objection to my project that it is a new one;
the more so, as the old ones have not succeeded very well.
I should glory, my lord, to be the author of a species of
civil war and discord yet unattempted, and thereby recom-
mend myself to the honorable consideration of his majes-
tv's ministers.
There exists, my lord, in this nation, a latent spark,
which requires only to be fanned. If this be done with
address, we sball have a civil war lighted up in this coun-
try, which will not be easily extinguished; for the contest
will be between the two sexes. If we once can get them
into separate camps, and keep the war afoot for sixty
years, there is an end of the American people.
The matter is briefly this: The men smoak tobacco.
The ladies will not be smoaked. They say they do not
marry nor come into the world to be smoaked with tobacco.
The men say they did not marry nor come into the world
to be scolded, and that they will be masters in their own
houses. They are both in the right, they are both in the
wrong. Neither is right, nor neither is wrong, according
as the balance of power can be managed by a cunning
hand. And under the cover of this smoak, much excellent
340 MEMOIRS OF
mischief may be done for the service of his majesty; and
the war, which will be memorable in future history, may
be called the cigar war. We have at once in our hands
three principal ingredients of civil war; fire, smoak and
liard words.
We might coalesce with our magnanimous allies, the
Squaws, on the western frontiers, and a diversion on the
Chesapeake would complete the whole. And I should not
despair of mardiing a column of ladies, by the next sum-
mer, into Virginia, and laying the tobacco plantations
waste with fire and tow.
One great advantage of my project, your lordship will
please to observe, is this, that whether it succeed or fail,
take it at the very worst, supposing it to end as it began,
in smoak, it would have a result to the full as favorable
as other projects which have cost old England fifty times
the sum I ask for. The very smoaking of these ladies
would be a great point gained; for they have arrived at
an insolent pitch of beauty; and it will be in vain that
we should deter the connoisseurs and virtuosi of our do-
minions from coming over here, by holding out that there
are no statues nor pictures, if we suffer them to preserve
such exquisite models of flesh and blood from which god-
desses, nymphs and graces, may be imitated. A few re-
fined souls will prefer cheeks of brass and eye-balls of
stone, to the dimple of nature and sparkling glances of the
laughter-loving eye. But the mass of mankind will be
ever vulgar; for them canvas will be too flat and marble
too hard, and flesh and blood will carry off the prize.
It is true, my lord, that the same arts are not yet so
advanced in this country as in those farther gone in cor-
ruption and luxury, Yet it is mortifying to see the pro-
WIELIAM SAMPSON 341
gross the young and fair ones are daily making in those
delicate acquirements which give lustre to virtue and em-
bellish good sense. Those arts which have now the charm
of novelty and the grace of infancy, cannot fail to improve
in a soil where living beauty triumphs, where the great
scenes of majestic nature invite, and where history points
the eye of the poet, the painter and the sculptor, to the
virtues of Washington and the plains of Saratoga and
York-Town. But one who passes for having good sense,
avowed to me some time ago, that he would rather see a
well-clad and active population, than the finest antique
groupes of naked fawns and satyrs, witli a Lazeroni pop-
ulace. And a thing that has raised great wonder in me is
this, that some of these fair-haired Dryads of the woods
have manners more polished than the shining beauties of
your splendid court. Where they got it, or how they
came by it I know not; but on the chaste stem of native
purity they have engrafted the richest fruits of foreign cul-
tivation. And as the ladies in all civilized nations will,
covertly or openly, have the sway, I think these dangerous
persons ought to be well watched; and I am not indis-
posed, my lord, to keep an eye upon them, provided I may
be encouraged by your lordship's approbation. I shall
not then regret the situation in which it has pleased the
wisdom of his majesty's councils to have placed me, and I
shall labor to the end of my life to make a suitable return.
In this view, I think it right to mention that the young
ladies have imbibed French principles; some of them can
express any sentiment, grave or gay, by a motion of the
head, speak any language with their eyes, and tell an.
affecting story with the points of their toes. Those cotil-
lions, my lord, are dangerous innovations.
342 MEMOIRS Of
It is, for the reasons I have mentioned, extremely im-
portant, that Mr. Weld, and the Anacreontic Poet, should
write down the American ladies. The kind and frank
hospitality they received from these unsuspecting fair ones,
lias afforded them an opportunity of taking a noble revenge,
worthy cf their masters. And if the finest genius, like the
fairest beauty, is to be selected for prostitution, Moore
is the man.
But if this system of detraction be followed up, you 'will
do well, my lord, to keep your Englishmen at home. They
will be very liable, coming over with such notions, to be
surprised, perhaps put in voluntary chains. It has already
happened to more than one of my acquaintance, and may
befal many more.
There need come no more with toys from Birmingham,
There is one Langstaff here, that has done them mischief.
He gives himself out for gouty and sits writing in an el-
bow-chair. When the fit leaves him he announces it in
the newspapers, and appoints an hour for his visits,; all
doors are thrown open, and scouts sent out to watch for
him. He runs about in a yellow coatee; and in the course
of the morning will have kissed the hand of every pretty
lady in town. It provokes me to see a little fellow lie in
a lady's work-basket, and make laughing sport of grave
men. And it makes me feel more mortified at mv own
rowing corpulence, lest my bulk should be no recommend-
tion in the eyes of the fair, whose favor is the chief ob-
ject of my wishes; I shall therefore, before the evil grows
worse, go immediately to press, be squeezed into the gen-
t The native patriotism of this delightful poet, since this
was written, has burst forth in strains that redeem every
error and cancel every fault.
ation
WILLIAM SAMPSON. 343
teelest form I can, and then pay my respects to the ladies,
and to your lordship. Meantime
i" have the honor to be.
With all due gratitude for past favors,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's much obliged,
And very devoted humble servant,
WILLIAM SAMPSON.
APPENDIX.
No. I. — Page 20.
Informers Hanged by their Employers,
William Kennedy was prosecuted for being aiding
and assisting to an armed mob. The principal witness
against him was lieutenant Heppenstal, noted alike for cow-
ardice and cruelty. It was he who called himself the
walking-gallows, from his custom of strangling men with
a rope drawn over his shoulders. To support his testimo-
ny, a witness named Hijland was produced, who swore that
he knew the prisoner; but that, by the virtue of his oath,
he never knew any harm of him. It appeared from the
cross examination of the walking-gallows, that he had
knocked this Hyland down, and drawn a rope very tight
about his neck, but could get nothing from him. Never-
theless Hyland was ordered off the table. A bill of indict-
ment was sent up to the grand jury. He was tried, con-
victed and sentenced instanter.
Under the impression of this terror, the trial of the pris-
oner, Kennedy, proceeded, and he was found guilty. But
en account of his good character and the polluted nature
of the evidence, several gentlemen, grand jurors and oth»
#rs, presented a petition in his favor. It appeared also^
UH
346 APPENDIX.
that one of the petty jurors, who refused to find him
guilty, was threatened to he thrown out of the window.
Kennedy, notwithstanding, was also sentenced to death
and executed.
The judge was Toler, now lord Norbury, the same to
\\ hom Robert Emmett said in his defence, that if all the
blood he had shed was collected into one great reservoir,
he might swim in it. And who, on another trial, uttered
that inhuman raillery, "that if the person put to death was
innocent, he was gone to a better world; if guilty, justice
had been done."
(JjF'Heppenstal since died of rottenness, at a very early
period of life.
O'BRIEN.
The following short extracts from Mr. Curran's speech
on the defence of Patrick Finney, are well worth the at-
tention of the reader, who may be curious to know to what
necessities a profligate system of oppression against the gen-
eral interest and feelings of a people leads:
"Oh honest James O'Brien! honest James O'Brien!
Let others vainly argue on logical truth and ethical false-
hood, if I can once fasten him to the ring of perjury, I
will bait him at it, until his testimony shall fail of pro-
ducing a verdict, although human nature were as vile and
monstrous in you as she is in him
Shall the horrors which surround the informer; the fe-
rocity of his countenance, and the terrors of his voice, cast
such a wide and appalling influence, that none dare ap-
proach and save the victim which he marks for ignominy
and death?
"Are you prepared, when O'Brien shall come forward
APPENDIX. 347
against 10,000 of your fellow-citizens, to assist him in dig-
ging the graves, which he has destined to receive them one
by one?
"I have heard of assassination by sword, by pistol and
by dagger, but here is a wretch who would dip the Evan-
gelists in blood! If he thinks he has not sworn his victim
to death, he is ready to swear, without mercy and without
end; but oh! do not, I conjure you, suffer him to take an
oath! The arm of the murderer should not pollute tlie
purity of the gospel; if he will swear, let it be on the
knife, the proper symbol of his profession! ......
"At this moment, even the bold and daring villany of
O'Brien stood abashed; he saw the eye of Heaven in that
of an innocent and injured man; perhaps the feeling was
communicated by a glance from the dock; his heart bore
testimony to his guilt, and he fled for the same! .....
"You find him coiling himself in the scaly circles of his
cautious perjury, making anticipated battle against any
one who should appear against him; but you see him sink
before the proof.
"He assumes the character of a king's officer, to rob the
king's people of their money, and afterwards, when their
property fails him, he seeks to rob them of their lives! . .
"This cannibal informer, this daemon, O'Brien, greedy
after human gore, has fifteen other victims in reserve, if
from your verdict he receives the unhappy man at the bar!
Fifteen more of your fellow-citizens are to be tried on his
evidence! Be you then their saviours; let your verdict
snatch them from his ravening maw, and interpose between
yourselves and endless remorse!"
(^J°This villain was not punished, but was rewarded
for his manifold services, until he became not merely use-
■iriS APPENDIX.
Less, but dangerous to his masters; then he was hanged
for a very ordinary murder, namely, tor having killed aft
old sick man. ( See further, Jlpp. No, 9.)
No. II. — Page 34.
Massacres of the Curragh of Kildare and Glencoc
General Dfndas, when at his head-quarters in Naas
on the 24th of May, received a message from a body of
the Irish, that they were willing to surrender their arms,
provided one Perkins should be liberated from prison, and
they all permitted "to return home in peace. The general,
after writing to the castle for instructions, ratified the con-
dition. And a few days after, a large body who had sur-
rendered their arms, were cut to pieces at Gibbet-Rath, on
the Curragh. The only pretext which bears any colour of
truth was, that one of the rebels was foolish enough to
discharge his gun in the air before he delivered it. This
was done by lord Jocelyn's fox-hunters, under the orders
of sir James Duff, who had written that morning to gene-
ral Lake, that he would make a dreadful example of the
rebels. No reprimand was ever given nor enquiry made,
and doubtless the act was much applauded. (Seethe Rev.
James Gordon's History of the Rebellion, p. 101; and
Plowden, vol. 4, p. 341.)
Having mentioned the massacre of Glenco, it might be
worth while to remind the reader of that odious crime,
which has this affinity to that of the Curragh, that both
APPENDIX. 349
were executed by treason, and in defiance of that good
faith which savages respect; and that, in one as in the
other, the actors were not only unpunished, but preferred.
That shocking story of Glenco, is thus briefly related by
an intelligent and unprejudiced writer*. — -"A proclamation
was published in autumn, 1691, which declared that all
rebels who took the oaths of the government, before the
first of January ensuing, should be pardoned. All the at-
tainted chieftains of the Highlands, except M'Donald of
Glenco, took the oaths before the time prefixed. Upon the
last day of December, he went to Fort William, and desir-
ed the oaths to be tendered to him by the governor of the
fortress, who, as he was not a civil magistrate, refused to
administer them. M'Donald then went to Inverary, the
county town, to take them; but by bad weather was pre-
vented from reaching it, till the term prescribed by the
proclamation was elapsed. The sheriff scrupled at first,
but was prevailed upon at last to receive his allegiance.
Advantage was taken of M'Donald's not having complied
literally with the terms of the proclamation, and a warrant
for proceeding to execution was procured from the king,
which was signed both above and below with his own hand.
Sir John Dalrymple, the secretary, gave orders that the
execution of it should be effectual; and without any previ-
ous warning. For this purpose, in the month of February,
two companies went, not as enemies, but as friends, to
take quarters in the valley of Glenco, where all the clan
lived. To conceal the intention the better, the soldiers
were of their own lineage, Highlanders of Argyle's regi-
ment. They were all received with the rude, but kind hos-
pitality of the country. They continued in the valley near
a fortnight; and then in the night-time rose to butcher
350 APPENDIX.
their hosts! Captain Campbell, of Glcnlyon, who was un-
cle to the wife of one of M'Donald's sons, and had supped
and played cards with M'Donald's family the night before,
commanded the party. Thirty-eight men were slain.
The rest would have shared the same fate, had not the
alarm been given by one of M'Donalds sons, who over-
heard one of the soldiers say to another, <he liked not the
work; he feared not to fight the M'Donalds in the field,
but had scarcely courage to kill them in their sleepj but
that tiieir officers were answerable for the deed, not they.'
This execution made the deeper impression, because the
king would not permit any of those who were concerned in
it to be punished, conscious that in their case his own was
involved.*' Sir John Dalrymple's Memoirs, vol. I. p. 213,
Dub. ed.
"As a mark of his own eagerness to save secretary
Dalrymple, king William signed the warrant both above
and below with his own hand. In the night, lieutenant
Lindsay, with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly
manner at M'Donald's door; he was instantly admitted.
M'Dor.ald, as he was rising from his bed to receive his
guest, was shot dead behind his back with two bullets.
His wife had already put on her cloaths, but she was
stripped naked by the soldiers, who tore the rings off her
fingers with their teeth. The slaughter became general.
To prevent the pity of the soldiers to their hosts, their
quarters had been changed the night hefore; neither age
nor infirmity was spared. Some women in defending their
children were killed. Boys imploring mercy were shot by
officers on whose knees they hung. In one place nine
persons, as they sat enjoying themselves at table, were shot
dead bv the soldiers. The assassins are even said to have
APPENDIX. 351
made a sport of death. At Inveriggen, in Campbell's own
quarters, nine men were first bound by the soldiers, then
shot at intervals, one by one. Several who fled to the
mountains, perished by famine and the inclemency of the
season. Those who escaped owed their lives to a tem-
pestuous night. Lieutenant-colonel Hamilton, who had
the charge of the execution from Dalrymple, was on his
march with four hundred men, to occupy all the passes
which led from the valley of Glenco, he was obliged to
stop by the severity of the weather, which proved the
saiei./ of the unfortunate tribe. He entered the valley
the next day; he laid all the houses in ashes, and carried
away all the cattle and spoil, which were divided among
the officers and soldiers." Macpherson's Hist. vol. 1.
page 628-9 — Dub. ed.
A still more interesting account of this black transac-
tion is in Garnet's Scotland, vol. 1, p. 288; but it is too
long for the present purpose.
No Irishman, I believe, ever read this story without the
strongest sympathy with the unfortunate victims of royal
and ministerial cruelty. It should be hoped that Scotch-
men are not less generous towards Irishmen, when it is
their turn to be betrayed and suffer. Those that are not,
are undeserving of the name of Scotchmen; an honora-
ble name when truly merited.
$5% . APPENDIX.
No. III.— Page 46.
Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone,
To the Court-Martial, assembled to pass sentence on
his life.
Saturday, Nov. 10,1798.
Mr. Tone was made prisoner on board the French ship of
war the Hoche. A former Court-Martial had been named,
hit was dissolved by the lord-lieutenant, as there were
several officers appointed, whose regiment were under
sailing orders. On the day of the trial, the doors of the
. Dublin Barracks, where the court met, were at a very
early hour beset by an immense crowd of all descriptions
of persons, who, as soon as they were open, rushed in*
Tone appeared in the uniform of a chief of brigade.
The firmness and serenity of his deportment, made even
his bitterest enemies feel the greatness of his mind.
The judge advocate informed the prisoner, that the
lord lieutenant had established this court-martial, to try
whether he had acted traitorously and hostilely against
his majesty, to whom, as a natural-born subject, he owed
allegiance. And he was called upon to plead guilty or not
guilty.
Tone. — I shall not give the court any useless trouble, I
admit the facts alleged, and only ask leave to read an ad-
dress which I have prepared for this occasion.
Colonel Daly — Warned the prisoner, that in admitting
the facts, he necessarily admitted, to his own prejudice, the
having acted treasonably against the king.
Tone.— Stripping this charge of its technical forms, it
APPENDIX. 353
means, I presume, that I have been taken in arms against
the soldiers of the king in my native country. I admit
the accusation in its utmost extent, and desire nothing
further than to give my reasons.
The Court — Was willing to hear him, provided he con-
fined himself within the limits of moderation.
Tone. — Mr. President and gentlemen of the court-mar-
tial, I do not mean that you should waste your time in
proving, according to law, that I have borne arms against
the king's government in Ireland; I admit the fact.
From my tenderest youth I have considered the union of
Ireland with Great-Britain as the scourge of the Irish
nation. And that the people of this country can have nei-
ther happiness nor freedom whilst that connection endures.
Every day's experience, and every fact that arose, con-
vinced me of this truth; and I resolved, if I could, to sep-
arate the two countries. But as I knew Ireland could
not of herself, throw off the yoke, I sought for help wherev-
er I could find it.
Content in honorable poverty, I have refused offers,
which to one in my circumstances, might seem magnifi-
cent. I remained faithful to the cause of my country, and
looked for an ally in the French Republic, to free three
millions of my countrymen from ........
Here he was interrupted by the President
and Judge Advocate, who observed that this discourse
tended not to justify himself so much as to inflame the
minds of certain men ( United Irishmen J of whom doubt-
less numbers were present.
Tone. — Unconnected with every party in the republic,
without protector, money or intrigue, the frankness and
integrity of my views soon raised me to a distinguished
w w
3j4 APPENDIX.
rank in the French army. I enjoyed the confidence of the
government, the approbation of my general, and I dare
assert it, the esteem of my brave comrades. Reflecting
upon these circumstances, I feel a confidence, of which no
reverse of fortune, nor the sentence which you are so
shortly to pronounce, can rob me. If I enrolled myself
under the banners of France, it was with the hope of con-
tributing to the salvation of my native land. From that
same and single motive, I encountered the dangers of war
fn a country not my own, and on seas which I knew to be
covered with the triumphant fleets of a government whom
it was my glory to resist.
I have courted poverty; I have left without a protector
a beloved wife; and without a father, children whom I
adored. To such and to so many sacrifices, in a cause
which my conscience still tells me was a just one, I have
little difficulty now to add that of my life.
I hear it said that this country has been a prey to hor-
rors. I lament it, if it is so. But I have been four years
absent, and cannot be responsible for individual sufferings.
It was by a frank and open war that I proposed to sepa-
rate the countries. It is unfortunate, that private ven-
geance on one side or on the other, should have consider-
ed itself authorised to mingle its fury i» the contest. I
grieve for it as much as any other, but I am innocent
of all these calamities; and to all those who know any
thing of my sentiments or character, justification on that
head would be very useless. But in vulgar eyes, the merit
of the cause is judged by its success. WASHINGTON
CONQUERED— KOSKIUSKO FAILED!
After a combat nobly sustained, which would have in-
spired a sentiment of interest in a generous enemy, to the
APPENDIX. 355
eternal shame of those who gave the order, I have hceu
dragged hither in chains. I speak not for myself in this.
I know my fate right well. But the tone of supplication
is beneath me. I repeat it again. I admit all that is
alleged againt me, touching the separation of Ireland from
Great-Britain. Words, writings, actions, I avow them
all. I have spoken and I have acted with reflection and
on principle; and now with a firm heart I await the conse-
quences. The members who compose this court, will doubt-
less do their duty, and I shall take care not to be wanting
to mine.
This discourse was pronounced with an accent so digni-
fied, as deeply affected every hearer, the members of the
tribunal not excepted. A silent pause ensued, which Tone
first interrupted, by asking if it was usual to assign an
interval between the sentence and the execution? The
judge advocate answered, that the members would imme-
diately give their opinions, the result of which would be
forthwith laid before the lord-lieutenant. If the prisoner
therefore had any further observations to make, it was
now the moment.
Tone. — I have a few words to say relative to the mode
of punishment. In France, the emigrants who stand in
the same situation as I do now before you, arc condemned
to be shot. I ask, then, that the court should adjudge me
to die the death of a soldier, and that I may be shot by a
platoon of grenadiers. I ask this, more in right of my
i situation as chief of brigade in the French army, than for
my own sake. It is a respect due to the coat I wear. And I
shall therefore beg of the court to read my commission and
letters of service, by which it will appear that I do not
<»
56 APPENDIX.
avail myself of any deception or subterfuge, but that t
have been long and bona fide a French officer.
The Jiulgc Advocate. — You must feel, sir, that the papers
you allude to, are undeniable proofs against you.
Tone. — Oh I know it well, and I admit the facts, and I
admit the papers as proofs of full conviction!
[The papers were then read. They were, a brevet of
Chief of Brigade from the Directory, and signed by the
Minister of War; a letter of service, giving to Tone
the rank of Adjutant-General, and a passport.]
General Loftus. — By these papers you are designated as
serving in the army of England (l'Armee d'Angleterre.)
Tone. — I did serve in that army, when it was command-
ed by Bonaparte, by Dessaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as
I am, an Irishman; but I have also served elsewhere.
General Loftus. — The court will not fail to submit to the
Lord Lieutenant the address which has been read by the
prisoner, and also the object of his last demands. His
lordship, however, took care to efface a great part of it,
namely, that which Tone was prevented from reading.
The sequel is well known. Mr. Tone, finding that he
was to be executed in the same savage manner as his
brother had been a lew days before, found means to disap-
point his enemies, and chose the manner of his death.
[And thus perished Theobald Wolfe Tone, a man of im-
questioned personal honor, of heroical courage, of 2/ie
most amiable character, and of talents, which, for the
same reason that they drew upon him the sentence of a
traitor in Ireland, would, in any other countryt have
raised him to tJte highest distinction.] For some ac-
count of his wife and children, see Appendix No. 16,
APPENDIX. 35?
Nq. IV.— Page 48.
The following document will shew the nature of those peep-
qf-day, Orange, or A^o-popery-men, who at present gov-
ern the king's conscience, and consequently his councils
throughout the empire. The encouragement of them,
and their acts of ruthless persecution, were among the
principal means which the ministers hoast of having
used, to bring about rebellion, and through rebellion,
UNION.
Armagh, December 28, 1795.
At a numerous meeting of the magistrates of the county of
Armagh, convened this day, at the special instance of
Lord Viscount GOSFORD, Governor.
His Lordship having taken the chair; opened the busi-
ness of the meeting, by the following Address:
gentlemen;
HAVING requested your attendance here this day, it
becomes my duty to state the grounds upon which I
thought it advisable to propose this meeting, and at the
same time to submit to your consideration, a plan which
occurs to me as most likely to check the enormities that
have already brought disgrace upon this country, and may
soon reduce it into deep distress.
It is no secret, that a persecution, accompanied with all
the circumstances of ferocious cruelty, which have in all
ages distinguished that dreadful calamity, is now raging in
this country. Neither age nor sex, nor even acknowledg-
ed innocence, as to any guilt in the last disturbances, is suf-
ficient to excite mercy, much less to afford protection,,
18 APPENDIX.
The only crime which the wretched objects of this ruth-
Jess persecution arc charged with, is a crime indeed of easy
proof; it is simply a profession of the Roman Catholic
Faith, or an intimate connexion with a person professing
that faith. A lawless banditti have constituted judges of
this new species of delinquency, and the sentence they
have pronounced is equally concise and terrible; it is noth-
ing less than a confiscation of all property, and immediate
banishment.
It would be extremely painful and surely unnecessary,
to detail the horrors that attend the execution of so wide
and tremendous a proscription, a proscription that cer-
tainly exceeds in the comparative number of those it con-
signs to ruin and misery, every example that ancient or
modern history can supply. For where have we heard, or
in what story of human cruelties have we read, of mora
than half the inhabitants of a populous county, deprived at
one blow of the means as well as the fruits of their indus-
try, and driven in the midst of an inclement season, to seek
a shelter for themselves and their helpless families, where
chance may guide them?
This is no exaggerated picture of the horrid scenes now
acting in this county. Yet surely it is sufficient to awaken
sentiments of indignation and compassion in the coldest
bosom. These horrors, I say, are now acting, and acting
with impunity. The spirit of partial justice (without
which law is nothing better than an instrument of tyran-
ny) has for a time disappeared in this county; and the
supinencss of the magistracy of Armagh, has become a
common topic of conversation in every corner of the king-
dom.
It is said in reply: The Roman Catholics are danger-
ArPEtfDix. 359
ous; they may be so; they may be dangerous from their
numbers, and still more dangerous from the unbounded
views they have been encouraged to entertain. But I will
venture to assert, without fear of contradiction, that upon
those very grounds, these terrible proceedings are not
more contrary to humanity than they are to sound policy.
It is to be lamented, that no civil magistrate happened
to be present .with the military detachment on the night of
the 21st inst. but I trust the suddenness of the occasion,
the unexpected and instantaneous aggression on the part
of the delinquents, will be universally admitted as a full
vindication of the conduct of the officer and the party un-
der his command.
Gentlemen, I have the honor to hold a situation in this
county, which calls upon me to deliver my sentiments, and
I do so without fear and without disguise.
I am as true a Protestant as any gentleman in this
room or in this kingdom. I inherit a property which my
family derived under a Protestant title, and with the bless-
ing of God, I will maintain that title to the utmost of my
power. I will never consent to make a sacrifice of Protest-
ant ascendency to Catholic claims, with whatever mena-
ces they may be urged, or however speciously or insidi-
ously supported.
Conscious of my sincerity in this public declaration,
which I do not make unadvisedly, but as the result of ma-
ture deliberation, I defy the paltry insinuations that mal-
ice or party spirit may suggest.
I know my own heart, and I should despise myself if un-
der any intimidation I should close my eyes against such
scenes as present themselves on every side, or shut my
ears against the complaints of a persecuted people.
560 APPENDIX.
I should be guilty of an unpardonable injustice to the
feelings of gentlemen here present, were I to say more on
this subject. I have now acquitted myself to my conscience
and my country, and take the liberty of proposing the
following resolutions:
1st. That it appears to this meeting, that the county of
Armagh is, at this moment, in a state of uncommon disor-
der. That the Roman Catholic inhabitants are grievously
oppressed by lawless persons unknown, who attack and
plunder their houses by night, and threaten them with in-
stant destruction, unless they immediately abandon their
lands and habitations.
2d. That a committee of magistrates be appointed, to sit
on Thursdays and Saturdays, in the chapter-room, in the
town of Armagh, to receive information respecting all per-
sons of whatever description, who disturb the peace of this
county.
3d. That the instructions of the whole body of the
magistracy to their committee shall be, to use every legal
means within their power to stop the progress of the per-
secution now carrying on by an ungovernable mob against
the Roman Catholic inhabitants of this county.
4th. That said committee or any three of them, be em-
powered to expend any sum or sums of money for infor-
mation or secret service, out of the fund subscribed by
the gentlemen of this county.
5th. That a meeting of the whole body of the magis-
tracy be held every second Monday, at the house of Mr.
Charles M'Reynolds; in the town of Armagh, to hear the
reports of the committee and to give such further instruc-
tions as the exigency of the times may require.
6th. That offenders of every description, in the present;
APPENDIX.
m
disturbances, shall be prosecuted out of the fund subscrib-
ed by the gentlemen of this county, and to carry this reso-
lution into effect; be it also resolved, that Mr. Arthur Ir-
win be appointed law-agent to the magistrates.
The above resolutions having been read, were unani-
mously agreed to, and the committee nominated.
Lord Gosford having left the chair, and the right hon-
orable sir Capel Molyneux requested to take it,
Resolved, That the unanimous thanks of this meeting be
presented to Lord Viscount Gosford, for his proper con-
duct in convening the magistrates of the county, and bis
impartiality in the chair.
Gosford,
Capel Molyneux,
William Richardson,
William Brownlow,
A. J. M'Cann, Sovereign,
Robert B. Sparrow,
Alex. Thos. Stewart,
Michael Obins,
Hugh Hamilton,
Joseph M'Gough
James Verner,
Richard Allot,
Stewart Blacker,
John Reilly,
Samuel Close,
John Ogle,
William Clarke,
Ch. M. Warburton,
Wm. Lodge,
Wm. Bisset,
Thomas Quin,
Owen O'Callagliaxi,
John Maxwell,
William Irwin,
James Harden,
James Lawson,
William Barker,
Robert Livingston,
xx
3tiS APPENDIX* -
No. V.— Page 58.
LORD CJSTLEREJG&.
Robert Stuart, at the general election in 1790, set
himself up for representative of the county of Down,
against what was called the Lordly Interest; and in order
to ingratiate himself with the popular party, took the fol-
lowing oath or test upon the hustings, as a solemn compact
between him and his constituents, namely,
"That he would regularly attend his duty in parliament,
and be governed by the instructions of his constituents.
"That he would, in and out of the house, with all his
ability and influence, promote the success of
"A bill for amending the representation of the people.
"A bill for preventing pensioners from sitting in par-
liament, or such placemen as cannot sit in flie British
House of Commons.
"A bill for limiting the number of placemen and pen-
sioners and the amount of pension.
"A bill for preventing revenue officers from voting at
elections.
"A bill for rendering the servants of the crown of Ire-
land responsible for the expenditures of the public money.
"A bill to protect the personal safety of the subject
against arbitrary and excessive bail, and against the
stretching of the power of attachment beyond the limits of the
constitution."
REMARK.
Compare that test with the test of the United Irishmen,
APPENDIX, 363,
and there is not so much difference that the taker of the one
should he exalted on a gallows, aud the other to a peer-
age. The only difference is this: He that continued true
to his test, was hanged; and he that was foresworn hanged
him.
Now if ever there was a proof of the lamentable effects
of a colonial government, it is this, that the most perfidi-
ous should always be selected for favor and power; as if it
was a principle of government, not only to deprive the
subjects of their liberty, but also, by pernicious examples,
of their morals; and above all, to trust no man until he had
made his proofs of baseness.
When the habeas corpus was to be suspended, could no
other be found to execute arbitrary imprisonment, but he
who had sworn to oppose "all arbitrary stretches of pow-
er?" When the parliament was to be annihilated, could
no man be found so fit to destroy it as the man who had
sworn to defend its independence and its purity?
How many of those whom lord Castlereagh swore to
protect against imprisonment, he has since imprisoned ar-
bitrarily, and betrayed to the most cruel sufferings, may
be better known hereafter; his biography will be written.
Jt is time that false honors should cease to varnish trea-
son; and that lying and forswearing should cease to pass
for talents and merit. Does it require so much genius to
lie, and is it so meritorious to betray? If so, let it be pro-
claimed aloud to all mankind. The field of genius may be
much enlarged; honest men will cease to be troublesome,
and thieves will have due honor. It is much to be wished,
for the repose of mankind, that a great convention should
be formed upon this head: That all may submit, or all, re-
bel together,
3
M AITENftlX
No. VI. — Page 70.
WILLIAM HENRY CAVENDISH, Duke of Portland,
one of his Majesty's honorable Privij Council, and Princi-
pal Secretary of State, fyd fyc. <§r.
To all Admirals, Vice-Admirals, Captains, Command-
ers of His Majesty's Shins of War or Privateers, Govern-
ors, Mayors Sheriffs. Justices of the Peace, Constables,
Customers, Comptrollers, Searchers, and all others whom
it may concern. Greeting: These are, in his majesty's
name, pursuant to the authority vested in me by his Maj-
esty in this behalf, to will and require you to permit and
suffer the bearer hereof, William Sampson, Esq. freely
and quietly to go from hence to Falmouth, and there to em-
hark and pass over to Lisbon, without any lett, hindrance,
or molestation whatsoever; Provided the said person do
embark within — after the date hereof, and sail,
wind and weather permitting, or otherwise this pass shall
remain no longer in force. Given at Whitehall, the thh>
teenth day of December, 1798.
PORTLAND.
APPENDIX $65
No. VII.— Page TL
FROM the (London) courier.
The following petition was presented to his Majesty at
the Levee, by Mr. Fo;v.
TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY,
The humble petition of the undersigned, freeholders of the
county of Down.
May it please your Majesty;
"We, your Majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects,
take this opportunity of expressing our loyalty and attach-
ment to your Majesty's person and family, and those prin-
ciples which placed them on the throne of these realms;
and, at the same time, of declaring, that, in such a period
as the present, we should think it little short of treason to
be silent on the state of this your majesty's kingdom of
Ireland. It is not merely of a long, disastrous, unjust
and unnecessary war, which has destroyed, public credit,
commerce and manufactures, we complain: Your majesty,
in your wisdom, must have perceived the evil consequences
of that war through every part of your dominions. It is
not the melancholy waste of blood and treasure of which
we complain; because those calamities cannot be remedied;
but we beg leave to approach your throne with a plain un-
exaggerated state of our present grievances. Ever since
the administration of the great lord Chatham, almost all
good and wise men have concurred in the absolute neces- •
sity of a parliamentary reform, as well for the security of
SGO APPENDIX.
the throne as the people. Your majesty's present minis-
ter has given lessons to the empire on that head, which
can never he forgotten; and the ruin which has accompa-
nied his deviation from that principle has demonstrated the
necessity of that measure. The dutiful and loyal petitions
of your people have not been attended to. The most con-
stitutional and loyal means of seeking redress have been
opposed by the most unconstitutional and illegal coercions.
Every right, for the establishment of which our forefathers
shed their blood, and for the protection of which your maj-
esty's ancestors were called to the throne, has been suc-
cessively taken away by the undue influence of your ma-
jesty's present ministers; the right of petitioning greatly
invaded by the convention bill; the trial by jury, by sum-
mary convictions, under the most unconstitutional laws,
the liberty of the press and the freedom of speech, by the
shameful encouragement of spies and informers; the right
of habeas corpus has been suspended; and the great right,.
which is the security of all other rights, the right of bear-
ing arms, has been grossly violated, not only by a series
of laws repugnant to the written and acknowledged com-
pact between the crown and the people, expressed unecmiv-
orally in the bill of rights, but in a late instance by an act
of state avowedly illegal. AVe therefore humbly intreat
your majesty to dismiss from your councils and presence,
your present ministers, as the first step towards restoring
peace, prosperity and happiness to this distracted country,
and thereby firmly securing the interests of the crown and
people, which are both at present in the most alarming
danger; and we further intreat your majesty immediately
to call such men to your councils as may assist your people
in obtaining a reform of parliament, embracing every re-
APPENDIX. 367
ligious persuasion, as the sure and only means of rendering
this kingdom prosperous and happy.
AR. JOHNSTON, Chairman,
ED. POTTINGER, Secretary.
By and on the behalf and at the desire of four thousand
eight hundred and three freeholders of the county of
Down, who subscribed their names to the above
petition.
No. VIII.— Page 75.
(f^The reader is, to avoid repetition, in consequence of
the increasing bulk of the work, referred to No. X, where
will be found the substance of what was intended for this
number.
No. IX. — Page 77.
The /Mowing lesson of policy and humanity offered hy a
hired informer to the government that suborned him, is un-
paralleled in history.
LETTER OF MR. BIRD,
To the Lord-Lieutenant, Earl Cambden.
My Lord,
In as few words as can convey my meaning, I will ex-
plain the object of my application, which I am pretty sure
will be deemed a very ill-timed one. In a letter which I
9 APPENDIX.
caused to be delivered to Mi*. Cooke, I candidly made
known my reasons for quitting a situation which I could
not think of without horror! the consequence of which
was, that two persons escaped a fate to which they had
hecn long since doomed by anticipation; that point gained,
although a very important one, by no means satisfies me,
Messrs Nelson and Russel arc yet prisoners; and your
lordship's great knowledge of lawr precludes the necessity
of my asserting, that there is no kind of change whatever,
which could by any means be supported against those
gentlemen. Then why, my lord, hold honest men in cap^
tivity, without even the shadow of a crime to adduce?
Why irritate the public mind, already goaded nearly to
desperation? Such conduct, my lord, is as base as it is
impolitic; spurn such actions as you ought; give perempto-
ry orders for the instant liberation of the persons before
mentioned, and you will acquire an honest popularity,
infinitely more grateful to a feeling heart, than the barren
adulation of that venal throng, whose baneful advice
at present guides your lordship's steps; and who, if
suffered to proceed, will lead you to inevitable ruin!
The gratitude of those individuals will induce them to
place their freedom purely to your lordship's benevolence,
as they are utterly ignorant of this application in their
behalf; and I further assure your lordship, that they ever
shall remain so, if my request be now granted.
Your lordship's native goodness will, I hope, incline you
to pardon the freedom of my style. The importance of
the subject throws etiquette at a distance; and ceremony
from me would be mere buffoonery. My mind is intent
on weightier matters, and let me incur what censure I
APPENDIX. 389
may, I am determined to restore those gentlemen to their
freedom, or lose my own in the attempt.
I seriously intreat your lordship not to suppose I would
deign to use empty menace to attain my purpose. No, I
scorn so mean a subterfuge; and did you but know the
adamantine foundation on which I build my hope of suc-
cess, yon would not, my lord, for a single moment, hesitate
between right and wrong, justice and tyranny; but would
instantly comply with my just request.
Should the enormous power, the lively craft of your
wicked counsellors, prevail over the dictates of honor in
your lordship's breast, then, my lord, am I irrevocably
determined to place in lord Moira's hands, such docu-
ments as shall strike your boldest orators dumb, and raise
through the three kingdoms such a tornado of execration,
as shall penetrate the inmost recesses of the Cabinets of
London and of Dublin!
If your lordship can find no better way to unravel the
mystery, apply to Kcmmis, the crown solicitor, perhaps
he'll tremble; but he can inform you of what it is I speak,
and which your honor and your interest demand should be
eternally concealed, or honestly explored!
I now take my final leave of your lordship, in whose
breast it remains to decide on as important an event, take
it all in all, as ever presented itself to your consideration.
I am, my lord, with the utmost respect,
Your Excellency9 s most obedient humble servant,
J. BIRD.
P. S. If the gentlemen herein mentioned, are not restored
to liberty within three days from the delivery of this letter
to your excellency, I shall conceive it a direct denial, and
take my measures accordingly.
yy
jfO APPENDIX,
letter of the same to me. kelson
Sir,
In what language to address a gentlemen, whom I have
so very deeply injured, I scarcely know; but with the
purest truth I can assure you, sir, that though plunged in
a dungeon, deprived of every comfort tyranny could wrest
from you, separated, for ought you know, eternally sepa-
rated from your wife, your children, friends and home,
your property devastated, your health and vigor drooping
beneath such an accumulated load of misery and woe; still,
sir, had you known my real state of mind, it was infinitely
less to be envied than yours. Happiness has to me been a
stranger ever since the fatal day when poverty, and some-
thing worse, urged me to accept the wages of infamy.
How those men may feel themselves, in whose hands I
have been an instrument of ruin, I cannot say; but I
strongly suspect, could the secrets of their hearts be ex-
posed to your view, they would not be more the objects of
your scorn than your pity!
The first gleams of happiness, which for twelve months
lias visited my breast, have been since I have ceased to
rank among the number of those sanguinary monsters,
who are in fact destroying that very system they are
striving to support. You, sir, will shortly be restored to
that liberty which your life has been hitherto devoted to
procure for others; and if yon can then think of me without
horror or disgust, it is as much as I can expect, more
than I deserve. Great have been the pangs of remorse I
have endured, when reflecting on the situation of your
amiable wife and unprotected offspring; nor did the state
of poor Shanagban's family distress me less; they, I fear,
APPENDIX. 371
suffered more than yours in some points; but 'twont bear
reflection.
I shall only further take the liberty of remarking, that
if my utmost exertions to serve the men I was hired to
destroy, can entitle me to pardon from you and from them,
I should once more feel myself restored to peace and hap-
piness. I beg, sir, you will excuse the liberty I take, and
believe me, if you can, when I assure you that no man
more fervently wishes you every blessing Providence
can bestow, than the person who for a time robbed you of
all comfort on earth.
J. BIRD,
LETTER OF MR. UEWEII TO ME. COOKE,
Under Secretary of State.
Sir,
As I hope in a few days to present you with my history
in print, I shall not trouble you much at present, as in it
you will see my reasons for deserting, and for first becom-
ing one of the Battallion of Testimony, on mature reflec-
tion I am confident you must say to yourself, I have acted
right. I shall not pretend to say I am beyond your power,
but should you even arrest me, you will find my heart was
never afraid to end the project I had once began. You
well know, not a friendship for government, but my affec-
tion for the Murdock family, was my reason for becoming
an informer; that attachment having ceased, the tye that
bound me to you was no more, and I am again what I then
was. Connected with Murdock, J xvas a villain, hxtf un-
connected with him. cease to be so.
An Englishman dared to act honestly, and shall a native
of Ireland, whose sons are renowned for their honor and
their courage, he out-done hy that nation which we find in
general produce only men of diabolical and vicious princi-
ples? Though I can't deny being a villain, I hope clearly
to prove, I had the honor of being made so by you, though
you did not inculcate enough of your principles to make it
lasting. I think you will now be tired of the business of
information, and I assure you you will shortly have no occa-
sion for it. Think how disgraceful must appear your con-
nections and support, when even spies and informers scorn
and fly their association, and throw themselves on the for-
giveness of their injured country, for being awhile con-
nected with such miscreants. I hope you will now acquit
me of the charge of want of feeling. I return you thanks
for the numberless favors you have conferred on me, and
assure you, that I would not exchange one single hour of
my present happiness, for ten thousand times the sums you
have already lavished on me. I have no occasion now for
pistols, the propriety of my present behaviour is guard,
enough; the forgiveness of my country, its reward; every
honest man is my friend; and for the other part of the
community, their esteem is a disgrace. My bosom is
what it has not been this long time, the seat of contentment,
and I thank my God for having saved me from impending
ruin.
EDWARD JOHN NEWELL.
N. B. This was the same Newell who wore the mask
and carried the wand. (See page 78.) He was the gal-
lant of Mrs. Murdock. He, with Murdock and Dutton,
composed the triumvirate, whose exploits Bird revealed in
APPENDIX, 373
bis confessions, signed by Mr. Grattan, and stated by
lord Moira in the Irish house of lords, as "having made
his blood to curdle."
No. X.— Page 85.
BELFAST RESOLUTIONS.
At a meefnig of tbe inhabitants of Belfast, held by ad-
journment on the 2d of January, 1797, from the former
meeting of the 31st of December, 1796, the committee
chosen by the said meeting having agreed to the follow-
ing resolutions, recommended them to their townsmen for
adoption.
COUNSELLOR SAMPSON IN THE CHAIR.
1st. Resolved, that the imperfect state of the representa-
tion in the house of commons, is the primary cause of the
discontent in this country.
£d. That the public mind would be restored to tran-
quility, and every impending danger effectually averted by
such a reform in parliament, as would secure to population
and property their due weight in the scale of government,
without distinction on account of religious opinions.
3d. That a determination firmly manifested on the part
of government, to comply with the great desires of the
people, would be productive of the happiest effects, inas-
much as it would conciliate the affections of the people,
whose object is reform alone, and thereby constitute tbe
only rampart of defence, that can bid complete defiance to
the efforts of foreign and domestic enemies.
4th. That such a change in the system of government
S74 APPENDIX.
"would give to property, law, religion, and the necessary
distinction of rank, additional stability and weight, and
that no opinion can be entertained by the people so danger-
ous, as the despair of succeeding in their constitutional
exertions to obtain the most t important objects of their
wishes.
5th. That we conceive a constitution by king, lords and
commons (the commons being then reformed) when wisely
and honestly administered, capable of affording every
happiness a nation can enjoy.
6th. That we arc ready, if permitted by government, to
arm in like manner as the volunteers, whose memory
we revere, and whose example we wish to imitate.
Resolved, That the chairman be requested to wrait upon
the sovereign with a copy of the resolutions, and to request
him, in the name of the meeting, to communicate the same
to the lord-lieutenant, and solicit permission for the inhab-
itants of this town to arm themselves agreeably to the
same resolutions.
REMARK.
The chancellor, lord Clare, in the house of lords, on the
17th of the same month, adverting to these resolutions;
made use of the following intemperate expressions:
"To say nothing of the affiliated 'United Irishmen, a-
vowedly associated to support the enemy, I will recal to
your lordship's recollection, the daring insolence of some
of those persons in the great commercial town of Belfast,
where a meeting was lately held, at which resolutions of
so treasonable a nature were entered into, as to make us
amazed at the mildness of government in not punishing
the authors/'
APPENDIX. 375
Now in the first place, the author of these resolutions was
lord O'Neil, a man of ancient rank and standing in the
country; whereas lord Clare's grand-lather was a Roman
Catholic priest, and his father a student of St. Omeis,
destined originally for the same profession, and who had,
it is said, been actually tonsured!
Lord O'Neil, who was once greatly beloved in the coun-
try, had at this time lost his popularity, by joining with
the Clare faction, and afterwards, a fact deeply to be la-
mented, lost his life in the battle of Antrim. And was
then one of the acting privy counsellors, sitting at the same
board with lord Clare, and signing the same proclamations
and acts of coercion.
Lord O'Neil had wished to have these very resolutions
adopted by the county of Antrim, as measures of concilia-
tion; but in the exasperated state of the public mind, he
despaired of accomplishing it. It was in the interval of
the adjournment, that some friends of lord O'neil, moderate
men, and good government men, had put these resolutions
into my hands, with intreaties that I would use my endea-
vors to have them passed by the committee of the town.
I was not in the secret of the French alliance, and had no
other motive under Heaven, than to assuage the violence
of party, to prevent the impending massacre, and if possi-
ble to keep the door open to reconciliation, and prevent a
civil war. But though I did not know that the French
had been invited, I knew very well that the governing fac-
tion were meditating the revolution, which they afterwards
effected, .under the name of Union. The implacable ran
cor of lord Clare against me, could have then no other mo-
tive than that I stood in the way of a darling massacre, and
was anxious to promote peace. And certainly, if eve?
376 APPENDIX.
there was an action that deserved the praise of moderation,
it was that one for which I was thus virulently denounced.
If I am now less moderate, it is not because my personal
feelings have been injured, for I am still willing to sacri-
fice what remains of my life and fortune to the advantage
of my country; but it is because my eyes are open to the
futility of expecting any benefit to Ireland from those who
govern her. Had conciliation been compatible with the
views of those men, they would have commended my en-
deavors, and the declarations of the state prisoners exam-
ined by lord Clare himself, would have been convincing
proofs how well I acted. ( See pieces of Irish Hist, p. 228.J
No. XI.— Page 89.
HUMANITY PUNISHED WITH DEATH,
From the relations of Mr. Hay and the Reverend Mr. Gordon.
Different courts-martial were instituted in Ross,
Enniscorthy, Gorey and Newtown-Barry and several
persons were condemned and executed, and others were
sentenced to transportation. Among those who were con-
demned to be executed, I cannot avoid noticing the case of
the Reverend John Redmond, a Catholic priest, who, it
seems, during the insurrection, had done all in his power
to save the house of lord Mountnorris from being plunder-
ed, which he in some degree effected, but not at all to the
extent of his wishes. Lord Mountnorris, however, to
prevent the possibility of his being supposed by any one
in future a friend to Catholics, sent for Mr. Redmond*
APFENIilX* 57"
upon finding that he was present at the plundering of his
house, desiring that he would come to him directly. The
reverend gentleman, conscious of his own integrity, and
apprehensive of no danger, as involved in no guilt, obeyed
the summons without hesitation; but his instantaneous
hasty trial, condemnation and execution, were the reward
of his humane and generous exertions. His body, after
death, underwent the most indecent mutilations.
It is a melancholy reflection to think how many inno
cent persons were condemned. I have heard of numbers,
of whose innocence the smallest doubt cannot be entertain-
ed, whose conduct merited reward instead of punishment:
yet they fell victims to the purest sentiments of philanthro-
py, which dictated their interference: these have been per-
verted by their enemies, who are also those of the human
race, into crimes utterly unpardonable. Is this any thing
less than arraigning benevolence and humanity, the most
amiable qualities of the soul of man, as criminal and atro-
cious? But every man's breast, whatever be his principles,
will tell him, with irresistible force, that crime and atroci-
ty lie at the other side. From personal knowledge of the
circumstances, I knew five or six who were innocent of tho
charges and of the deeds sworn against them, and who
still were condemned and executed. In these turbid and'
distracted times, I have seen persons sunk so much below
the level of human nature, that I do believe they were not
capable of judgment or recollection, which accounts to me
in some degree for the various assertions, even testimonies
on trials, and affidavits made by different persons, who
might as well relate their dreams for facts.
Mr. E. Kyan, whose courage and humanity deserved a
better fate, was taken near Wexford, on his return home
z z
378 APPENDIX.
in the night, tried, condemned and executed the next day;
far although manifest proofs appeared of his humanity and
interference, so conspicuously effectual on the hridge of
Wexford, on the 20th of June, 1798, yet this was insuffi-
cient to save him, as he had arms about him when appre-
hended. His fate is the more lamentable, as Mr. Fitz-
Gerald, on surrendering to General Dundas, had secured
the same terms for Mr. Kyan as for himself; so that had
any circumstance interfered to delay his execution for
some time, the life of a brave man would have been saved.
C See Haifs Insurrection, pages £66 — 7 — 8 — 9 — 70, and
Gordon's History of the Irish Rebellion, pages 186 — 7. And
Vlowden, vol. 4. J
A very remarkable saying is recorded of one of the rebel
prisoners, who thanked God that no one could accuse hint
of having saved the life or property of any body.
REMARK.
It is difficult for an American reader to conceive, why
he that shewed mercy, or endeavored after peace, should
be most obnoxious. But if it be remembered, that the
beginning of this civil war was the recal of lord Fitzwil-
liam; if it be kept in mind that the dispute between the
English cabinet and that viceroy, turned not so much upon
the Catholic question as upon the apprehension that Mr.
Beresford was * 'filling a situation greater than that of the
lord-lieutenant," and upon the necessity of his dismissal,
and also the dismissal of Messrs. Wolfe and Toler, the
two public prosecutors; then it will be felt why these
men, who by force of the king's conscience remained in
office, in despite of the public wish, and whose emoluments
and importance grew out of the public calamities, should
dread peace, reform or conciliation; to all or either of
APPENDIX. 379
which, their fortunes and ambition must of course be
sacrificed. Again, if we look to the origin of these gen-
tlemen to whose ascendancy a wretched people have been
sacrificed, we shall be less astonished that they should
maintain their present elevation by every means. If I am
rightly informed the grand-father of the Beresfords came
from England to follow his trade of an Inkle-weaver in
Coleraine; and the enormous fortunes of that family are
nothing but the plunder of the miserable Irish whom they
have scourged, hanged and massacred, in order to silence
their complaints. Ask who is the marquis of "Waterford
or lord Tyrone? Ask who is lord Castlcreagh or lord Lon-
donderry; who is lord Norbury; who was lord Earlsfort,
and so many other lords whose origin is as obscure? Ask
when and for what virtue they were irradiated with such
high glories? Alas! their virtue, of all virtues, was their
enmity to Ireland and their corrupt and violent endeavors
to keep her in misery, disunion and subjection; and there-
fore their worst enemy was the reformer or the peace-
maker, the oppressor their natural ally.
No. XII.— Page 148.
Certificate of Mr. La/argue.
I, Anthony Laiargtie, marine agent of the French
Republic for the exchange of French prisoners of war at-
Lisbon, certify, to all whom it may concern, that TFilliam
Sampson, of Ireland, and his servant of the same nation,
embarked on board of the Danish ship called the Die Iloif-
380 ArPE.\Dix.
mmg, captain Lars .Tansen, were put on board that ship
by order of the intendentc-gcneral of the police of this
city, for reasons of state; and I attest, that these two men
have no employment whatsoever on hoard of the said vessel.
In witness whereof, I have signed this present certificate,
and sealed it with my seal. Done at Lisbon the 9th of
Floreal, 7th year of the French Republic, one and indi-
visible.
ANTHONY LAF ARGUE.
CSeal.J
No. XIII.— Page 160.
drrete Motive.
Extract from the deliberations of the Municipal Adminis-
tration of the Commune of Bayonne.
Sitting of the I4ik Messidor, fifth year of the Republic, one
and indivisible. Present, the citizens Sauvinet, jun.
President; Andrew Durvergier, Louis Bertrand, Domi-
nick Meillan, James Lacoste, Laurent Garaij, Municipal
Administrators; and P. Basterrcche, Commissary of the
Executive Directory.
The municipal administration of the commune of
Bayonne, having considered the different proofs adduced
by Mr. William Sampson, of Ireland, shewing that he had
been forced successively to leave Ireland and Portugal; and
that the ship which landed him at Passage, was destined
for Bordeaux,
APPENDIX. 381
Considering, tliat if it is important to the safety of the
republic to shut out such strangers as are under suspicion,
or pertubators, it is also its duty to grant protection to all
the victims of despotism.
Considering, that it results from the various proofs, pro-
duced to us by Mr. William Sampson, that he was pro-
scribed in his native country, and afterwards in Lisbon, on
account of his sentiments of liberty, and tbe zeal with
which he had asserted it in the midst of atrocious persecu-
tions.
Considering, finally, that it may be essential, under the
existing circumstances, to give to the government a knowl-
edge of those who arc capable of informing it, touching the
situation of its enemies; and that in this view, Mr. William
Sampson, so well known in the annals of Ireland, may be
able to offer very useful instruction.
Having first heard the commissary of the executive di-
rectory, decree, that Mr. William Sampson bo permitted
to Paris, passing by Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitier, Tours,
and Orleans, under the condition that he present himself
to the constituted authorities of the communes, to have the
present passport examined; and that he present himself, on
his arrival at Paris, before the minister of the general po-
lice, who will be apprised of his intention by the municipal-
ity of Bayonne.
Compared Copy,
(Seal.) The Mayor of Bayonne,
LACROIX RAVIGNAN.
REMARK.
It will be clear to every intelligent or candid reader,
how easily I might have recommended myself to high fa-:
&82 APPENDIX.
vor. I did not choose to do it, for my independence was
dearer to me than cvciy thing. I hoped, hcsidcs, that the
violent empire of terror in my native country might have
Subsided, and that I might still, perhaps, have been of use
in its pacification. Those, I am sure,' who would have
cried treason if I had accepted of this offer, will laugh at
my simplicity. And I know further, that to them my con-
duct will never he agreeable, whilst it is dignified or
honorable.
I am sorry, however, to be obliged, at length, to con-
form to the sentiments of Mr. Tone; that there never can
be happiness or liberty for Ireland, whilst that connection,
which is her scourge, subsists. It is now, alas! too well
demonstrated by proofs of stupid pertinacity.
My memorial to the municipality of Bayonne would*
beyond every thing, have put my enemies to shame. But
although I sincerely believe it to be in possession, by
means which I am not free to mention, I am sure they will
never do me the justice to produce it. If it was on the
contrary a piece tending to my crimination, it would
have been public long ago.
No. XIV.— Page 162.
INTERROGATORS S,
Before the Bureau Central of Bordeaux.
This day, the first of Thermidor, seventh year of the
French Republic, one and indivisible, appeared before us,
administrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bor-
APPENDIX. 333
deaux, the person hereafter named, whose interrogatories
and answers were as follows:
Question. — His age, place of nativity, profession and
last domicil?
Answer. — William Sampson, thirty-five years of ago.
born in Londonderry, in Ireland, counsellor at law; present
residence in Bordeaux, at the hotel de la Providence, in
the street Port-Dijeaux.
Q. — How long he had been in Bordeaux, and1 what were
his means of subsistence?
Ji. — About twelve days; his means of subsistence, a small
sum of money, which he brought from Portugal, and what
he can in future procure from the disposable property
which he has in his own country.
Q. — From whence and for what he came to Bordeaux?
A. — That being by his profession of advocate, bound to
respect the laws and rights of his fellow-citizens, his zeal
in their maintainance against the oppressions of the tyran-
nical government now exercised by England in Ireland,
had brought upon him all sorts of persecution. He was
long imprisoned; his life exposed, like that of multitudes
of his fellow-citizens, to hourly danger. The details of
all he underwent would be too voluminous to be inserted in
these interrogatories. He confines himself at present to
the following facts, viz. that he was compelled to leave his
country, and to go to Portugal with the condition of re-
maining there during the present war, and to give security
in two thousand pounds sterling, not to leave that kingdom.
That some weeks after his landing at Oporto, he was ar-
rested and conveyed to Lisbon, where he was imprisoned
and made to endure the cruellest vexations, and finally em-
barked on board a Danish vessel, as he was told,, for Ham-
384 APPENDIX.
burg. But that the vessel was in fact bound to Bordeaux,
and is now arrived in tins port.
Q.—To relate more particularly for what cause he was
transported into Portugal, made prisoner in Oporto and
Lisbon, and there embarked. What was the name of the
vessel and of the captain?
./?.— That amongst other things from the time that fhe
English government declared war against France, lie had
manifested by his writings and all legal means, his aver-
sion to their motives of hostility. Conceiving that it was
no just cause of war, that another nation chose to make
alterations in its government. 2dly. The desire which he
had manifested in common with his fellow-citizens for the
reform of the parliament, the dismissal of the ministry,
and peace with France. Sdly. The arbitrary, tyrannical
and cruel acts which the English government practised in
manifest violation of the rights of the people of Ireland.
4thly. That he had constantly demanded a trial, which was
refused him, for that it was judged better to proceed arbitra-
rily against him, as well to prevent his justification as the
exposure of the manoeuvres of his persecutors. 5thly.
That he presumes that it was for the same reasons he was
arrested at Oporto, and conducted to Lisbon, in order to
deprive him of all correspondence; and that for the same
reasons, in the same arbitrary manner, he was forceably
embarked on board of the Danish vessel, the Die Hoff-
nung, captain Lars Jansen; and further he adds, that the
English and Irish papers had not ceased to publish absurd
and contradictory calumnies and falsehoods respecting
him, and the motives of his detention.
^.—Whether the Danish vessel had brought him direct-
ly to Bordeaux?
APPENDIX. 385
A. — After being forty -three days at sea, and all thf*
provisions consumed, the captain was obliged to put into
St. Sebastian. That he had often, on account of his bad
health, solicited the captain to put him on shore, which he
refused; that he took the resolution there to make the rest
of his way by land to avoid a repetition of the same suffer-
ings; and that his design was merely to follow the destina-
tion of the ship, in which he had been embarked with his
effects.
Being no further interrogated, and the present being
read to him, he affirms the truth of his answers as therein
contained, and thereto signs his name.
WILLIAM SAMPSON,
PIERRE BALGUINE, Admr.
BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau.
INTERROGATORY OF FRANCIS RIVET.
This day being the 4th of Thermidor, in the 7th year
of the French Republic, one and indivisible, we the admin-
istrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bordeaux,
caused the citizen Rivet to appear before us, who was in-
terrogated as follows:
Q. — His name, surname, age, place of nativity, and last
domicil?
Jl. — His name is Francis Rivet* age forty years; native
of Nantes, lodges at the Hotel de la Providence.
Q. — Desired to communicate all he knew touching the
case of William Sampson of Ireland.
«#.— The first he heard of him was when he was himself
3A
386 aitendix.
in prison at Lisbon, by means of his gaoler, who had gone
to the prison of the said William Sampson, to serve as
his interpreter in interrogatories which he then under-
went. And the said gaoler told the deponent, that the
cause of the imprisonment of the said person was, that he
was Irish, and his principles suspected by the Portuguese
government. Deponent further says, that about fifteen
days after, he was transported with the said William
Sampson from Lisbon to the prison of Belem, near Lis-
bon, where they contrived, by address, to speak together,
then he found that he was the same person of whom his
gaoler had spoken; but another fortnight elapsed before
they could obtain permission to converse freely together,
and that was only on the day previous to their quitting the
prison. On the day fixed for their departure, without a
moment of preparation, they were obliged to embark in a
boat belonging to the government, escorted by agents or
officers of the police, who conducted them on beard of the
Banish vessel, named the Die Huffnung, captain Lars
Jansen, who had then already weighed anchor, and was
proceeding to sea.
Q. — If he knew, on embarking, for what port the ship
was bound, or at what time he came to that knowledge?
Jl. — From what he was told, as well by the gaoler of
Belem as by the chief agent of the police, who took him,
together with the said Sampson and his servant, on board
the said vessel, he supposed they were going to Hamburg,
and their passports being for that port, confirmed him in
such belief. It was not until three days after they left Lis-
bon, that the captain, who till then had kept it secret, de-
clared to them that he was going to Bordeaux, and shewed
his papers, which left no further doubl.
a APPENDIX. 387"
q. — If lie could give any further information touching
William Sampson?
A. — That he, together with the said "William Sampson,
often insisted most earnestly with the captain, that he
would put them on shore, wherever he could find it practi-
cable, and engaged to follow the destination of the vessel,
and even to leave their effects on hoard, as a security and
proof of their intentions. This latter proposal was made
in-order to free the captain from the terror with which
he seemed to be impressed, and the fear he was under of
arriving without his passengers at Bordeaux; but that it
was all in vain; for that he never would consent to come
near the land, until he was finally forced by a total failure
of provisions to put into St. Sebastian. He adds further, that
considering the generosity of the French nation, and the
embarrassing position in which the said William Sampson
stood, owing to the perfidious measures of persecution dk
yected against him, he had been the first to encourage him
with the prospects of a favorable reception from the con-
stituted authorities; and that deponent advised him, that it
was now much safer for him, under the circumstances of
his case, to follow the destination given him, than to stop-
at any other place.
And being no further interrogated, &c.
Signed) 4*c.
i APPENDIX,
INTERROGATORY OF CAPTAIN 1ARS JANSEN,
The Third Thermidor, $c.
((. — His name, surname, ago, where born, and of what
profession?
JI. — Lars Jansen, forty-two years of age, native of Fins-
burg, in Denmark, captain of a vessel.
Q. — The name of the vessel he commands?
J.— The Die Hoflnung.
Q. — How long he has been at Bordeaux?
JI. — Since the 22d Messidor.
Q. — Whence he came last?
Ji. — From St. Sebastian.
Q. — How long he remained at St. Sebastian?
Ji. — Six days.
Q. — How long he had been at Lisbon?
J\. — About twenty -three days.
Q — «If during his stay there, he had not received on
board his ship William Sampson of Ireland?
Ji.— Yes.
Q. — If he received him willingly or from constraint?
Ji. — By force, and by virtue of an order from the Porta-
guese government.
((.— If the said William Sampson was conducted on
board by an armed force?
A. — That he was brought on board in a Portuguese boat,
by a number of persons whom he did not know.
({. — If when he left Lisbon he was bound for Bordeaux
or for Denmark?
Ji. — That he was bound to Bordeaux and no where else. * *
Q. — If he told William Sampson that he wus bound to
Bordeaux?
♦
APrENDIX, 389
A. — That after he was on board he told him, but not till
he was at sea.
Q. — For what reason he put into St. Sebastian?
Jl. — On account of a contrary wind and want of provis-
ions, which were exhausted by a passage of forty-three
days.
Q. — Whether the same persons who had conducted the
said William Sampson on board, had given to him, the
deponent, certificates, and to the said Sampson his pass-
port?
A. — Yes; the moment the vessel got under way and
was proceeding to sea.
Being no further interrogated, the present being read
to him, he maintains the truth of his answers as therein
contained, and signs, together with the interpreter thereof.
BINAUD,
SAMPSON,
PIERRE BALGUERIE, Admr.
BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau.
(j^My servant, John Russel, was also interrogated in
confirmation of the above facts. The originals of all the
documents adduced as vouchers of this memoir, are in my
possession.
a
390 APPENDIX.
No. XV.— Pagb 204.
MY PASSPORT FROM PARIS TO HAMBURG.
Prisoners of War-— No. 1324.
WAR DEPARTMENT — FRENCH REPCBLiqUE.
In the name of the French Government.
To ALL OFFICERS, CIVIL AND MILITARY, charged
with the maintenance of public order in different depart-
ments of the republic, permit Mr. Sampson (William)
freely to pass (with his wife and two cliildren,) born at
Londonderry in Ireland, forty years of age; of the height
of one metre, seventy -six centimetres; hair and eye-brows
dark brown, (chatains bruns) high forehead, large nose,
hazel eyes, mouth middle size, round chin, and face oval;
going to Hamburg, without giving or suffering to be given
to him any hindrance. The present passport, good; to go
to Hamburg and return to Paris.
Granted at Paris, the 27th Germinal, 13th year of the
republic.
Signed,
WILLIAM SAMPSON.
BERTHIER, Minister of War.
Approved by the minister of the police.
FOTJCHE.
AKPENDIX. SJi
No. XVI Page 329.
MATILDA TONE.
This admirable woman is of a family which moves in
the gcnteelest circles of her country. Her name was
Witherington. At sixteen years of age she made a match
of love with Theobald Wolfe Tone, then a youthful student.
This marriage produced a separation from her family,
which only served to increase the tender affections of hot
husband. He bestowed much time upon her education,
and had the delicious pleasure of cultivating the most noble,
refined and delicate of minds. "Content," to use his own
words, "with honorable poverty" they might be truly
called a happy couple. But fortune, which delights in
splendid victims, blasted their early joys. Mrs. Tone re-
mained at her husband's death, in Paris, with three young
pledges of their love. The estimation in which Tone was
held, and her own merit, had attached to her interest many
powerful friends. But with the arts of intrigue her noble
mind could never be familiar, she retired from the notice
of the world. The most elegant encomium ever pro-
nounced on woman, was that which Lucien Bonaparte
bestowed upon her, in recommending her case and that cf
her children to the attention of the French Councils.
Her two sons were, in right of their father, received
into the national school of the Prytannee, and her charm-
ing daughter, educated in the midst of a dissipated city,
with the purity of an angel, became the sweet companion,
and soother of the sorrows of a widowed mother. But
she, like a fair blossom untimely nipped* gloomed at once,.
392 APPENDIX.
and faded. She died in the dawn of loveliness, and felt
no pang in death hut for the sufferings of the mother she
adored. Another child of promise soon followed, no less
beloved, no less regretted; and fate, not satisfied with so
much cruelty, threatened to hereave her of her remaining
comfort. It was to avert that last stroke of angry destiny,
that she lately made a voyage to America; and in the
city of New- York a society of her affectionate country-
men seized upon the unexpected occasion, and presented
her with the following tribute to the memory of her hus-
band, and her own virtues.
In pursuance of a resolution of the Hibernian Provident So-
ciety of the city of JVew-Forfe, a committee waited on
Mrs. Tone, on Saturday last; and in the most respectful
manner presented her a Medallion, with an appropri-
ate device and inscription; and to her son (a youth of
sixteenj a Sword, accomjmnied with the following
ADDRESS:
Madam,
We are appointed by the Hibernian Provident Society
of New- York, to embrace the opportunity of your presence
in this city, to express to you their very profound respect for
the character and memory of your late illustrious husband,
General Theobald Wolfe Tone, and their affectionate at-
tachment to his widow and son. To many of our society
lie was intimately known; by all of us he was ardently
beloved; and while we look back with anguish on the
frightful calamities of our time and country, we delight to
dwell on his talents, his patriotism, his perseverance, and
his dignity in misfortune. Accept, madam, a testimonial
of their esteem, which can pretend to no value, but what it
APPENDIX. S90
4"ii&y derive from the sincerity with which it is offered.
In some other country, perhaps, it may awaken the reflec-
tion, that wherever Irishmen dare to express the senti-
ments of their hearts, they celebrate the name and suffer-
ings of TONE, with that melancholy enthusiasm which is
characteristic of their national feelings for the struggles
and misfortunes of their Heroes.
We are likewise directed to present a Sword to his
youthful son and successor, with a lively hope, that it may
one day, in his hand, avenge the wrongs of his country.
We are, Madam,
With the utmost respect,
Your most obedient humble servants,
David Bryson, "j
Geo. White, j
Wm. Js. Macneven, J> Committee.
Thos. Addis Emmet, J
George Cuming, J
October 1, 1807.
To which Mrs. Tone returned the following Answer:
Gentlemen,
The sweetest consolation my heart can feel, I receive
In the proof you now give me, that my husband still lives
in your affections and esteem; though in the course of nine
disastrous years, the numerous victims who have magnan-
imously suffered for the liberty of Ireland, might well con-
fuse memory, and make selection difficult.
I am proud of belonging to a nation, whose sons pre-
serve, under every vicissitude of fortune, a faithful at-
tachment to their principles; and from whose firm and
generous minds, neither persecution, exile, nor time, can
3 B
394 APPENDIX.
obliterate the remembrance of those who have fallen.,
though ineffectually, in the cause of our country.
For your gift to my son, take his mother's thanks and
his, while she tremblingly hopes that fate may spare him,
to prove himself not unworthy of his father or his friends-.
/ have the honor to remain,
With grateful respect, gentlemen,
Your most obedient,
MATILDA TONE,
THE MEDALLION*
Cato, contemplating the immortality of the soul; he is
seated; one hand rests on the works of Plato, the other
on his sword. The allusion will be readily perceived by
those who remember the fate of general Tone.
MOTTO.
Viodrix Causa Diis placuit, sed Victa Catoni.
INSCRIPTION.
Presented by the Hibernian Provident Society oi
New- York, to the worthy Relict of the late
illustrious Patriot,
GEN. THEOBALD WOLFE TONE.
While tve lament his sufferings,
We will ever cherish his memory,
And emulate his virtues.
*Elegantly executed by Mr. Arch. Robertson, of this City
APPENDIX. 395
FACTS,
IN
CONTINUATION OF THE APPENDIX.
Having promised some instances of the cruelties inflict-
ed on the Irish, they will naturally be expected. But
what to select from such a mass of horrors, is a difficult
question. If my professional occupations should leave me
so much leisure hereafter, I may probably employ it in
further pursuit of a subject so interesting to humanity,
and so necessary to truth. For the present the following
extracts may suffice, to authenticate all that has been as-
serted in the correspondence. And it will readily appear
to any candid mind, to which of the contending parties in
Ireland the imputation of Treason is most deservedly
ascrihable.
TEST OF THE ORANGEMEN,
Contrasted ivith that of the United Irishmen.
orangemen's original test.
I do hereby swear, that I will be true to the king and
government, and that I will exterminate, as far as I
am able, the Catholics of Ireland,
A VV ENDXX.
question^, Answers.
Where are you? At the house of bondage.
Where are you going: To the Promised Land.
Stand fa-?t yourself? Through the Red Sea.
What is your haste? I am afraid.
Dont be afraid, for the man who sought your life is dead.
Will you hold it or have it? I will hold it.
SIGNS OF THE ORANGEMEN.
Take your right hand and put it to your right hunch,
turn round, saying, great is the man that sent rue; then
lake your left hand and say, welcome brother Prince of
Orange.
(fj^Such was the grossness of that faction which now
governs both England and Ireland, it is almost incredible.
AMENDED OATH OF ORANGEMEN,
M it is said to hare issued from the hands of the Grand
Master of the Orange Lodges in Ulster.
I, in the presence of Almighty God, do solemnly and
sincerely swear, that I will not give the secret of an Or-
angeman, unless it be to him or them I find to be such
after strict trial, or the word of a well-known Orangeman,
for him or from the body or assembly of Orangemen. I
also swear, that I will answer all summonses from an as-
sembly of Orangemen, eighty miles distance; and that I
will not sit, stand by, or be by and see a brother Orange-
man struck, battered or abused, or known his character in-
juriously taken away, without using every effort in my
power to assist him at the hazard of my life. I further
declare, that I will not lie, to or upon an Orangemen, me
knowing the same to be detrimental to him; but will warn
him of all dangers, as far as in my power lies; and that I
will bear true allegiance to his majesty, and assist the
APPENDIX. 397
civil magistrates in the execution of their offices, if called
upon, and that I will not know of any conspiracy against
the Protestant Ascendancy, and that I will not make, or
be at the making of a Roman Catholic an Oraugemau, or
give him any offence, unless he offends me, and then I will
use my utmost endeavors to shed the last drop of his blood,
if he or they be not a warranted mason; and that I will
stand three to ten to relieve a brother Orangeman, and I
will not be a thief, or the companion of a thief, to my
knowledge.
Questions. Answers.
What's that in your hand? A secret to you.
From whence came you? From the land of bondage.
Whither goeth thou? To the land of promise.
Have you got a pass-word? I have.
Will you give it to me? I did not get it so.
Will you halve it or letter it? I will halve it.
March Delzo thro' the Red Sea.
What Red Sea? The wall of the Red Sea.
I am afraid. Of what?
The secrets of the Orange- Fear not, for he that sought
men being discovered. your life is dead.
Have you got a grand word? I have the grand, I am that
I am.
Did you hear the crack? I did.
What crack diu you hear? A crack from the hill of fire.
Can you write your name? I can.
With what sort of a pen? With the spear of life, or Aa-
ron's rod, that buds, blos-
soms, and bears almonds
in one night.
With what sort of ink? Papist blood.
.■>
.'S APPENDIX.
This last was the amended test, to which a certain vice-
roy was said to have suhscribed when colonel of the Cam-
bridge regiment.
[The former was what they called their purple oath, and
evidently that upon which they acted.
CONTRAST.
Original Declaration of United Irishmen.
"We pledge ourselves to endeavor, by all due means, to
obtain a complete and radical reform of the representation
of the people in Parliament, including Irishmen of every
religious persuasion."
XATTER TEST OF UNITED IRISHMEN,
After the insurrection act had made the former obligation a
felony, and secrecy became necessary to self-preservation.
"IN THE AWFUL PRESENCE OF GOD,
I do voluntarily declare, that I will persevere in endea-
voring to form a brotherhood of affection among Irish-
men of every religious persuasion; and that I will also
persevere in my endeavors to obtain an equal, full and ad-
equate representation of all the people of Ireland. I do
further declare, that neither hopes, fears, rewards or pun-
ishments, shall ever induce me, directly or indirectly, to
inform on, or give evidence against, any member or mem-
bers of this or similar societies, for any act or expression of
theirs, done or made collectively or individually, in or out
of this society, in pursuance of the spirit of this obligation."
(CT'T'hat the oath to exterminate should be loyal, and
the oath to promote religious reconciliation, treasonable,
could happen only under the government of England."
APPENDIX. 399
EXTRACTS PROM LORD MOIRA's SPEECH,
In the English House of Lords, on the 22d of November,
1797, in favor of Conciliation.
"When I troubled your lordships with my observations
upon the state of Ireland last year, I spoke upon documents
certain and incontestible. I address you, this day, mj
lords, upon documents equally sure and stable. Before
God and my country, I speak of what I have seen myseU*.
But in what I shall think it necessary to say upon this
subject, I feel that I must take grounds of a restrictive na-
ture. It is not my intention to select any individual, in
order to adduce a charge against him. It is not my wish
to point a prejudice against any one. What I have to
speak of, are not solitary and isolated measures, nor par-
tial abuses, but what is adopted as the system of govern-
ment. I do not talk of a casual system, but of one delibe-
rately determined upon and regularly persevered in.
When we hear of a military government, we must expect
excesses, which are not all, 1 acknowledge, attributable to
the government; but these I lay out of my consideration.
I will speak only of the excesses that belong to, and pro-
ceed from, the system pursued by the administration of
Ireland. I am aware it may be urged that a statement,
such as I am about to lay before your lordships, is calculated
to interfere too much with the internal government of the
sister kingdom. In answer to this assertion, I would, if
necessary, begin by laying it down as an incontrovertible
opinion, that we have so direct a concern and connexion
with Ireland, that any error of government in that country
is a fit subject for our attention; and if circumstances re-
ouii'ed it, for an address to his majesty for the removal of
400 APPENDIX.
the chief governor. My lords, this observation applies
not in any manner to the present lord-lieutenant; on the
contrary, I will pay him the tribute which I think due to
him, that to much private worth and honor, his lordship
adds, I believe, very sincere wishes for the happiness of
the kingdom which has been placed under his government.
My lords, I have seen in Ireland the most absurd as well
as the most disgusting tyranny that any nation ever
groaned under. I have been myself a witness of it in
many instances; I have seen it practised and unchecked.
and the effects that have resulted from it, have been such
as I have stated to your lordships. I have said, that if
such a tyranny be persevered in, the consequence must
inevitably be, the deepest and most universal discontent.
and even hatred to the English name. I have seen in that
country a marked distinction made between the English
and Irish. I have seen troops that have been sent full of
this prejudice, that every inhabitant in that kingdom is a
rebel to the British government. I have seen the most
wanton insults practised upon men of all ranks and condi-
tions. I have seen the most grievous oppressions exer-
cised, in consequence of a presumption, that the person
who was the unfortunate object of such oppression, was in
hostility to the government; and yet that lias been done in
a part of the country as quiet and as free from disturbance
as the city of London. Who states these things, my lords,
should, I know, be prepared with proofs. I am prepared
with them. Many of the circumstances I know of my
own knowledge; others I have received from such chan-
nels as will not permit me to hesitate one moment in giv-
ing credit to them.
"His lordship then observed, that from education and
APPENDIX. 401
early habits, the Curfew was ever considered by Britons as a
badge of slavery and oppression. It then was practised in
Ireland with brutal rigor. He had known an instance, where
a master of a house had in vain pleaded to be allowed the
nse of a candle to enable the mother to administer relief to
her daughter, struggling in convulsive fits. In former
times, it had been the custom for Englishmen to hold the
infamous proceedings of the inquisition in detestation; one
of the greatest horrors with which it was attended was,
that the person, ignorant of the crime laid to his charge,
or of his accuser, was torn from his family, immured in a
prison, and in the most cruel uncertainty as to the period
of his confinement, or the fate which awaited him. To
this injustice, abhorred by Protestants in the practice of
the inquisition, were the people of Ireland exposed. All
confidence, all security, were taken away. In alluding to
the inquisition, he had omitted to mention one of its char-
acteristic features; if the supposed culprit refused to
acknowledge the crime with which he was charged, he
was put to the rack, to extort confession of whatever
crime was alleged against him by the pressure of tor-
ture. The same proceedings had been introduced in Ire-
land. When a man was taken up on suspicion, he was put
to the torture; nay, if he were merely accused of conceal-
ing the guilt of another. The rack, indeed, was not at
hand; but the punishment of picqueting was in practice,
which had been for some years abolished, as too inhuman,
even in the dragoon service. He had known a man, in
order to extort confession of a supposed crime, or of that
of some of his neighbors, piequetted until he actually faint-
ed; picqueted a second time until he fainted again; and as
soon as he came to himself, picqueted a third time until
3c
402 APPENDIX.
fce once more fainted; and all upon mere Suspicion! Nor
Mas this the only species of torture; men had heen taken
and hung up until they were half dead, and then threaten-
ed with a repetition of the cruel treatment, unless they
made confession of the imputed guilt. These were not
particular acts of cruelty, exercised hy men abusing the
power committed to them, but they formed a part of our
system. They were notorious, and no person could say
who would be the next victim of this oppression and cruelty
which he saw others endure. This, however, was not allj
their lordships, no doubt, woidd recollect the famous proc-
lamation issued by a military commander in Ireland, re-
quiring the people to give up their arms; it never was de-
nied that this proclamation was illegal, though defended
on some supposed necessity; but it was not surprising that
any reluctance had been shewn to comply with it, by men
who conceived the constitution gave them a right to keep
arms in their houses for their own defence; and thev could
not but feel indignation in being called upon to give up
their right. In the execution of the order, the greatest
cruelties had been committed; if any one was suspected
to have concealed weapons of defence, his house, his furni-
ture, and all his property, was burnt; but this was not all;
if it were supposed that any district had not surrendered
all the arms which it contained, a party was sent out
to collect the number at which it was rated, and in the ex-
ecution of this order thirty houses were sometimes burnt
down in a single night. Officers took upon themselves to
decide discretionally the quantity of arms, and upon their
opinions these fatal consequences followed. Many such
cases might be enumerated; but from prudential motives
he wished to draw a veil over more aggravated facts,
APPFNDIX. 40 3
which lie could have stated, and which he was willing te
attest before the privy council or at their lordships' bar.
These facts were well known in Ireland; but they could not
be made public through the channel of the newspapers, for
fear of that summary mode of punishment which had been
practised towards the Northern Star, when a party of
troops in open day, and in a town where the general's
head-quarters were, went and destroyed all the offices and
property belonging to that paper. His lordship concluded,
with intreating the house to take into serious consideration
the present measures which, instead of removing discon-
tents, had increased the number of the discontented. Thss
moment of conciliation was not yet passed; but if the sys-
tem were not changed, he was convinced Ireland would
not remain connected with this country five years longer."
His lordship did not then foresee the kind of connection w»
tended.
Extracts from the speech of the same nobleman, delivered in
the Irish House of Lords, on the 19th of February, 1798.
"That many individuals had been torn from their fam-
ilies, and locked up for moutlis in the closest confinement,
without hearing by whom they were accused, with what
crime they were charged, or to what means they might re-
cur to prove their innocence; that great numbers of houses
had been burned, with the whole property of the wretched
owners, upon the loosest supposition of even petty trans-
gressions; that torture, by which he meant picqueting and
Jialf hanging, continued to be used to extort from the suf-
404 APPENDIX.
ferers a charge against his neighbors." If he should be
contradicted with respect to these facts, he professed him-
self prepared to "produce the affidavits of them," and de-
clared his intention of moving "for the examination of the
deponents at the bar. If there be delinquencies, there
must be delinquents: Prove their guilt, and punish them;
but do not, on a loose charge of partial transgression, im-
pose infliction on the whole community. The state of so-
ciety was dreadful indeed, when the safety of every man
was at the mercy of a secret informer; when the cupidity,
the malevolence, or the erroneous suspicions of an individ-
ual were sufficient to destroy his neighbor."
COMMITTEE OF ELDERS.
From Mr. Grattan's Speech against the motion of the at-
torney-general, for certain additional measures of coercion,
in the Irish House of Commons, February 20, 1796.
Their modes of outrage were as various as they were
atrocious; they sometimes forced, by terror, the masters of
families to dismiss their Catholic servants; they some-
times forced landlords, by terror, to dismiss their Catholic
tenantry; they seized, as deserters, numbers of Catholic
weavers, sent them to the county gaol, transmitted them to
Dublin, where they remained in close prison, until some
lawyers, from compassion, pleaded their cause, and pro-
cured their enlargement; nothing appearing against them
of any kind whatsoever. Those insurgents, who called
themselves Orange Boys, or Protestant Boys, that is, a
banditti of murderers, committing massacre in the name
APPENDIX. 405
n! God, and exercising despotic power in the name of lib-
erty; those insurgents had organised their rebellion, and
formed themselves into a committee, who sat and tried the
Catholic weavers and inhabitants, when apprehended false-
ly and illegally as deserters. That rebellious committee,
they called the committee of Elders, who, when the unfor-
tunate Catholic was torn from his family and his loom
and brought before them, sat in judgment upon his case;
if he gave them liquor or money, they sometimes dis-
charged him, otherwise they sent him to a recruiting office
as a deserter. They had very generally given the Catho-
lics notice to quit their farms and dwellings, which notice
was plaistered on the house, and conceived in these short
but plain words: «Go to hell, Connaught won't receive
you—fire and faggot. Will Tresham and John Thrust-
out." That they followed these notices by a faithful and
punctual execution of the horrid threat; soon after visited
the house., robbed the family, and destroyed what they did
not take, and finally completed the atrocious persecutions,
by forcing the unfortunate inhabitants to leave their land,
their dwellings and their trade, and to travel with their
miserable family, and whatever their miserable family
could save from the wreck of their houses and tenements,
and take refuge in villages, as fortifications against in-
vaders, where they described themselves, as he had seen in
their affidavits, in the following manner: "We (mention-
ing their names) formerly of Armagh, weavers, now of
no fixed place of abode or means of living, &c." In many
instances this banditti of persecution threw down the
houses of the tenantry, or what they call racked the house
so that the family must fly or be buried in the grave of their
own cabin. The extent of the murders that had been com-
406 APPENDIX.
mittcd by tka* atrocious and rebellious banditti he had
heard, but had not heard them .so ascertained as to state
them to that house; but from all the enquiries he could
make, he collected, that the Catholic inhabitants of Ar-
magh had been actually put out of the protection of the
law; that the magistrates had been supine or partial, and
tluit the horrid banditti had met with complete success,
and from the magistracy with very little discouragement.
{£j°They were afterwards identified with the govern-
ment, not only in Ireland, but in England*
The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, on the same
Occasion.
('l shall oppose this resolution, because I think that
this resolution will not prevent the crimes of which the
right honorable gentleman complains; the disturbances of
the country, sir, are not to be remedied by any coercive meas-
ures, however strong; such measures will tend rather to ex-
asperate than to remove the evil. Nothing, sir, can effect
this and restore tranquility to the country, but a serious,
a candid endeavor of government and of this house, to re-
dress the grievances of the people. Redress those, and
the people will return to their allegiance and their duty;
suffer them to continue, and neither your resolutions nor
your bills will have any effect: I shall therefore, sir, op-
pose not only this resolution, but all the resolutions which
the right honorable gentleman has read to you, except per-
haps one, that which goes to constitute the written testi-
mony of a dying witness, good evidence. This, I think*
APPENDIX. 407
is fair and likely to facilitate the course of justice, without
violently infringing* as all the other resolutions seem to do,
the liberty of the subject."
f^pLord Edward was not at this time, nor for a long
time after, a United Irishman, much less had he thought of
any alliance^with France.
MOLL DOYLE.
The notices of the govemment-men, in the counties of
Wexford and Wicklow, in the years 1798, 1799 and 1800,
ran thus: A — B — . We give you notice in five days to
quit; or if you don't, by God, we will visit your house
with fire, and yourself with lead. We are the Grinders,
Moll Doyle's true grandsons.
MOLL DOYLE AGAIN.
On the estate of Mr. Siviny, called Court, when the leases
of the tenants, who were Catholics, expired, the same
KING'S CONSCIENCE-MEN posted the following
Proclamations:
*
Let no Papist presume to take lands; and even if a
son of Moll Doyle should offer more than half a guinea
an acre (worth fifty shillings) he shall forfeit all privi-
leges of the fraternity, and undergo the same punishment
for his transgressions, as if he was a Papist. The lands,
in consequence, remained waste for nearly two years.
408 APPENDIX.
(I^Molt, Doyle, the adopted grandmother of these
ruffians, was nothing more than a metaphor, meaning
the King's Conscience. This threat of lowering the
rents, first alarmed the guilty landlords, and made them
fee4 the danger of extermination.
It may not he amiss to contrast with this gross barbari-
ty the proclamation of a Rebel General, and the Dy-
ing declaration of a Rebel.
TO THE PEOPLE OF IPVELAND.
Countrymen and Fellow-Soldiers!
Yqvr patriotic exertions in the cause of your country,
have hitherto exceeded your most sanguine expectations,
and in a short time must ultimately be crowned with suc-
cess. Liberty has raised her drooping head, thousands
daily flock to her standards, the voice of her children every
where prevails. Let us then, in the moment of triumph,
return thanks to the Almighty Ruler of the Universe, that
a total stop has been put to those sanguinary measures,
which of late were but too often resorted to by the crea-
tures of government, to keep the people in slavery.
Nothing now, my countrymen, appears necessary to se-
cure the conquests you have already won, but an implicit
obedience to the commands of your chiefs; for through a
want of proper subordination and discipline, al! may be
changed;
At this eventful period all Europe must admire, and pos-
terity will read with astonishment, the heroic acts achieved
by people, strangers to military tactics, and having few
APPENDIX. 409
professional commanders; but what power can resist men
fighting for liberty?
In the moment of triumph, my countrymen, let not your
victories be tarnished with any wanton act of cruelty;
many of those unfortunate men now in prison were not
your enemies from principle; most of them, compelled by
necessity, were obliged to oppose you; neither let a differ-
ence in religious sentiments cause a difference among the
people. Recur to the debates in the Irish house of lords
on the 19th of February last; you will there see a patriotic
and enlightened Protestant bishop (Down) and many of
the lay lords, with manly eloquence, pleading for Catholic
emancipation and parliamentary reform, in opposition to
the haughty arguments ol the lord chancellor, and the
powerful opposition of his fellow-courtiers.
To promote a union of brotherhood and affection among
our countrymen of all religious persuasions, has been our
principal object; we have sworn in the most solemn man-
ner, have associated from this laudable purpose, and no
power on earth shall shake our resolution.
To my Protestant fellow-soldiers I feel much indebted
for their gallant behaviour in the field, where they exhibited
signal proofs of bravery in the cause.
EDWARD ROCHE.
Wexford, June 7, 1798.
DYING DECLARATION OE WHXIAM ORR.
My Friends and Countrymen,
In the thirty -first year of my life, I have been sentenced
to die upon the gallows, and this sentence has hem in pur-
3D
410 APPENDIX*
suance of a verdict of twelve men, who should have been
indifferently and impartially chosen; how far they have
been so, I leave to that country from which they have been
chosen, to determine; and how far they have discharged
their duty, I leave to their God and to themselves. They
have, in pronouncing their verdict, thought proper to re-
commend me as an object of human mercy; in return, I
pray to God, if they have erred, to have mercy upon them.
The judge, who condemned me, humanely shed tears in ut-
tering my sentence; but whether he did wisely, in so
highly commending the wretched informer who swore
away my life, I leave to his own cool reflection, solemnly
assuring him and all the world, with my dying breath,
that the informer was forsworn. The law under which I
suffer, is surely a severe one; may the makers and
promoters of it, be justified in the integrity of their motives
and the purity of their own lives. By that law, I am
stamped a felon, but my heart disdains the imputation.
My comfortable lot and industrious course of life, best re-
fute the charge of being an adventurcrer for plunder; but if
to have loved my country, to have known its wrongs, to
have felt the injuries of the persecuted Catholics, and to
have united with them and all other religious persuasions,
in the most orderly and least sanguinary means of procur-
ing redress; if those be felonies, I am a felon, but not other-
wise. Had my counsel,* for whose honorable exertions I
*The indictment was under the insurrection act for admin-
istering- the obligation to religious union. The informer in
his zeal, added some conversation about joining the French.
Upon which Mr. Curran and I, who were his counsel, moved
that he should be discharged of that indictment, as the offence,
if the witness was at all credible, would be treason under the
Stat. Ed. III. Our motives were these, that under this in=
I
APPENDIX. 41 J
am indebted, prevailed in their motion to have me tried
for high treason, rather than under the insurrection law,
I should have been entitled to a full defence, and my ac-
tions and intentions have been better vindicated; hut that
was refused, and I must now submit to what has passed.
To the generous protection of my country, I leave a he-
loved wife, who has been constant and true to me, and
whose grief for my fate has already nearly occasioned her
death. I leave five living children, who have been my de-
light; may they love their country as I have done, and die
for it if needful.
Lastly, a false and ungenerous publication having ap-
peared in a newspaper, stating certain alleged confessions
of guilt on my part, and thus striking at my reputation,
which is dearer to me than life, I take this solemn method
of contradicting that calumny. I was applied to by the
high sheriff, and the Rev. William Bristow, sovereign of
Belfast, to make a confession of guilt, who used entreaties
to that effect; this I peremptorily refused; did I think my-
self guilty, I should be free to confess it, but on the con-
trary, I glory in my innocence.
I trust that all my virtuous countrymen will hear me in
their kind remembrance, and continue true and faithful to-
each other, as I have been to all of them. With this last
dictment the witness had only to swear a predetermined oath
}o the administering of a printed test, put into his hand merely
go be sworn to, and his counsel could not be heard to the facts*
Under the law of treason, he would have had a full defence
upon the law and the fact, and have been undoubtedly acquit-
ted; although even then, he would have had but half the priv-
ilege of an Englishman, as in treason two witnesses are re-
quired to take away the life of an Englishman; one is held
enough to swear away that of an Irishman. For the further
liistory of this case see Curran's speech for Peter Finerty.
112 APPENDIX.
wish of my heart, not doubting of the success of that cause
for which I suffer, and hoping for God's merciful forgive-
ness of such offences as my frail nature may have at any
time betrayed me into, I die in peace and charity with all
mankind.
WILLIAM ORR.
Corrickfergus Goal, October 5, 1798.
PROTESTANT FANATICISM.
It is an injustice to charge the Catholics in the late re-
bellion with bigotry or fanaticism, -and not to mention a
fact which puts it beyond a doubt, that the no Popery Fac-
tion were infinitely the most bigotted, and if bigotry be Po-
pery, much the most Papistical.
Mr. Hay has given a list of the Roman Catholic Chap-
els burned by the loyalists or peep-of-day-boy$f in the
county of Wexford, with the dates of their several confla-
grations, amounting to thirty-three. And Mr. Plowden
has cited an official list of upward of seventy, damaged or
destroyed by the said government boys.
APPENDIX. 413
SACRILEGE.
The following fact is enough to stamp the English and
their Mherents in Ireland, with everlasting infamy. It
is from Mr. Hay's History of the Wexford Insurrection,
page 301, where he tridy observes, that no such atro-
city can, at any period, be implied to the most infuri-
ated pike-men.
• At the summer assizes of Wexford, in 1801, James
Redmond was tried and condemned for murder; and pur-
suant to his sentence was executed on the 30th of July, and
his body delivered to the surgeons, who, after dissecting
it, permitted it to be taken away, and it was buried. The
corpse was dug up out of its grave, and placed in the shed
erected for the priest to officiate on the scite of the Catho-
lic Chapel of Monamoling, which had been burned. Tbis
exhibition was not discovered until the congregation had
assembled to hear mass on the Sunday following, the 3d of
August, 1801 .
GENERAL MURPHY.
"The rebel general Murphey, when led to execution was
tauntingly desired to work miracles, and otherwise scoffed
at and insulted by a young officer, who went the length of
offering a most indecent insult to Ids person, which so ir-
ritated his feelings, that, though on the very brink of eter-
nity, he doubled his fist and knocked down the officer in a
blow; upon which he was unmercifully flagellated and in-
stantly hanged.'*
414 ArPKNDIX.
IRISH LA.W.
"Lv the barony of Lower Orion, in the county of Ar-
magh, one Birch, under a military escort, with his hands
tied behind him, was cut down by the sergeant, and died
of his wounds; the pretext was, that some countrymen, at-
tracted by curiosity, came near them and intended to at-
tempt a rescue; and on the night of the wake of the de-
ceased, some soldiers under the command of colonel Spar-
row, broke into the house, took out the corpse, and severely
wounded and mangled those who were in the house.
"A party of the Essex Fencibles burned the house and
furniture of one Potter, a respectable farmer, because his
wife, who had seven infant children, either would not or
could not tell where her husband was. Another party of
the same regiment quartered at Enniskillen, broke open
the house of Farmer Dur man, at two o'clock, murdered
one and wounded another of his sons while in bed. The
like outrages were committed at Coolairll, upon one Price,
an innkeeper, and his daughter, who were both dangerously
wounded.
"The colonel was tried and found guilty, but he had the
king's pardon in his pocket, which he produced upon the,
sentence being pronounced against him."
{£yi was present at the above transaction; and on the
same circuit at Carrie kfergus, I was counsel for Joseph
Ctithbcrt and a number of others, who, after a year's im-
prisonment, were tried and acquitted. Immediately upon
their acquittal, the public prosecutor produced a warrant
under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, and they
were committed afresh to the hands of the gaoler, its sm~
pected.
APPENDIX, 41?
ANOTHER INSTANCE.
Mr. WALTER BEVEREAUX.
"I cannot omit here mentioning the case of Mr. Walter
Devereanx, who, having obtained protections from several
general officers, had gone to Cork to .embark for Portugal;
he was there taken up, tried, condemned and executed.
Mr. Gibson, a yeoman and wealthy Protestant shopkeeper,
and Mr. William Kearney, an extensive brewer, were
summoned and attended at his trial, and proved that he
was in Wexford, and even in gaol, at the very time sonic
soldiers of the Wexford militia were shot, thirty miles from
that town; and the principal charge against him was, that
he gave orders, and was present at their execution, which
some men of that regiment were hardened enough to swear!
I myself saw him in Wexford on th^alleged day. He was
also accused of aiding and abetting the abominations at
Scullabogue, and this charge was similarly supported by
the testimony of some soldiers' wives! and yet it is an un-
doubted fact, that he was all that day engaged at the battle
of Ross, where he displayed the most heroic bravery and
courage, equalities inconsistent with the odious crime it was
falsely sworn he had perpetrated! But what puts the false-
hood of the facts alleged against him beyond all question
is, that after his execution, another Mr. Devereanx was
taken up on the discriminating sagacity of the same wit-
nesses, who prosecuted the former to death; but who now,
as they said, discovered the right Devereanx. The trial
of the latter has been published, and I would recommend
its perusal to such as wish further information,"
416 APPENDIX,
AN0THEE.
MICHAEL EGAX.
"We have taken particular pains to be informed of the
sequel of the story of Michael and Thomas Egan, the
father and son, who underwent so barbarous and brutal a
persecution in the village of Dunlavin, in the county of
Wicklow; being, as we have already stated, dragged nak-
ed from their beds, in the dead hour of night; the father's
bones broken by officers and yeomen; for to the immortal
honor of the poor Irish soldiers, they refused to take part
in the atrocity; whilst the son was hanged three times, in
the presence of his aged father, with every aggravating cir-
cumstance of barbarity; and this without any color of legal
authority whatever, but avowedly by the inhuman and ille-
gal process of torture, % extort accusations from the agony
of the sufferers. Upon the son's refusing a bribe, the fath-
er was violently beaten before his face.
"The young man was cut down senseless, his tongue
hanging out of his mouth; but was nevertheless kept sever-
al days in the guard-house. In six days he was taken,
with his hands tied behind his back, to Wicklow gaol,
where he remained, in the most monstrous contempt and
violation of the law, in a dismal cell, loaded with very hea-
vy irons.
"He was then brought up to the quarter sessions at
Baltinglass, and an indictment read to him, charging him
with having spoken seditious words. He was then remand-
ed, and not delivered till he gave bail in so extravagant a
sum as five hundred pounds. The words, we understand,
with which he was charged, were fitter to excite laughter,
JUPPEXDIX. 4 \ 7
than to sanction any such persecution; and upon his appear-
ance at Baltinglass, the ps'osecuter thought fit to quash his
indictment; and Mr. Fowler, a principal party, was- him-
self held to bail, upon the information of Michael Egau
against him, and is to answer at the next assizes at Wick-
low, when the whole will be brought fairly to light, for which
reason we forbear from being more particular at present.
"We hear that the friends of the poor sufferers took
down counsel especially to protect them, viz. Counsellors
Sampson and Bennett."
(j^pThe above facts are stated short of the truth.
When the defendant came into court, he found it filled with
the very soldiery who had committed these barbarous
crimes against his father and himself, He found those
under whose orders, and by whose help they had done
those acts, seated on the bench of justice to try him. Be-
tween those military justices who had first tortured him,
and were* now his accusers and judges, <$M their guards,
there was only a thin loose canvas, through which, for
more terror, the bayonet's points were visible.
The court thought proper to quash the indictment, and
we prevailed so far as to oblige one of the judges to come
down from the bench and give bail to answer the charge of
the accused. This effort was not without risk of our lives,
Mr. Emmet and I had obtained a rule in the king's bench
for an information; but before the case could be tried, life,
Mr. Bennet and I, were all put in goal.
3E
418 APPENDIX.
TILOODY EXECUTIONS OF WEXEORD.
"The entrance of the wooden bridge was the scene fix-
ed on for the place of execution. The sufferers were haul-
ed up with pullies, made fast with ropes to an ornamental
iron arch, intended for lamps, and springing from the two
wooden piers of the gate next the town. The large stat-
ure of the Rev. Philip Roche caused the first rope he was
hauled up with to break; but another was soon procured,
and his life was ended with double torture. The head of
captain Keugh, who suffered along with him, was separat-
ed from his body and conspicuously placed on a pike over
the front of the court-house. Their bodies, together with
those of others executed at the same time, were stripped
and treated with the utmost brutality and indecency, pre-
vious to their being tlirown over the bridge.
"Mr. Grogan was brought to trial, but the evidence
which he hoped to obtain of his innocence, did not attend,
on account of the general apprehension which prevailed.
His trial was therefore postponed, and he was remanded to
gaol. Mr. Harvey was then put on his trial, which lasted
for the best part of the day, and ended in his condemna-
tion.
"Mr. Grogan's trial was then resumed; but this he did
not expect until the next day, and consequently he had not
been able to procure all the necessary evidence. It was
indeed proved, that he was forced to join the insurgents,
but this did not prevent a sentence of his conviction: such
was the idea entertained at the time, of the necessity of
public example! The condemnation of these gentlemen
was afterwards confirmed by the Irish parliament, which
APPENDIX. 419
passed an act of attainder against them, and a confiscation
of their properties; notwithstanding that, on parliamentary
enquiry into the merits of the proceedings, it was clearly
proved, that the court-martial had not heen even sworn: so
that, although their condemnation and the confiscation of
their properties be sanctioned by law, yet the justice of the
process is very questionable, and the investigation of it
will employ the pens of future historians; particularly in
the ca*s of Mr. Grogan, who was undoubtedly sacrificed
to the temper of the times. On the following day, Messrs.
Harvey, Grogan, and Mr. Patrick Pendergast, a rich
maltster in Wexford, were ordered out to execution.
When Mr. Harvey was brought out of his cell, he met Mr,
Grogan in the gaol-yard, and accosted him in a feeling af-
fectionate manner; while shaking hands with him, he said,
in the presence of an officer and some of the guards, and in
the hearing of several prisoners, who had crowded to the
windows, "Ah! poor Grogan, you die an innocent man at
all events." They were then conducted to the bridge,
where they were hanged, when the heads of Messrs. Gro-
gan and Harvey were cut off, and placed upon pikes on
each side of that of captain Keugh, while their bodies, and
that of Mr. Prendergast, were stript and treated with the
usual brutal indecencies, before being cast over the bridge!
Mr. Colclough was brought out to trial on the same day,
and condemned. On the next day be was executed, but his
body, at the intercession of his lady, was given up to her
to be interred. Mr. John Kelly, of Killan, whose courage
and intrepidity had been so conspicuous at the battle of
Jloss, now lay ill in Wexford, of a wound which he had re-
ceived in that engagement; he was taken prisoner from his
bed, tried and condemned to die, and brought on a car to
420 APPENDIX.
the place of execution. His head was cut off, and his body,
after the at customed indignities, was thrown over the
bridge. The head, however, was reserved for other exhi-
bitions. It was firgt kicked about on the custom-house-
quay, and then brought up into the town, thrown up and
treated in the same manner opposite the house in which his
sister lodged, in order that she might view this new and
savage game at foot-ball, of which, when the players were
tired, the head was placed in the exalted situation to which
it had been condemned, above that of captain Keugh, over
the door of the court-house.5'
CAJS'STBAX.
**A young man, of the name of Walsh, was brought into
Naas, who was said by a female to be the person who shot
captain Swayne, in the action at Prosperous. It is now
well known that he was not within sixteen miles of Pros-
perous, when the action took place there; nevertheless, he
was taken without any form of trial to the ship, and there
hanged, dragged naked through the street to the lower end
of the town, and there set fire to; and when half burned, his
body opened, his heart taken out, and put on the point of a
wattle, which was instantly placed on the top of a house,
where it remained until taken down by one of the military,
who marched into town about nine weeks after. When the
body had been almost consumed, a large piece of it was
brought into the next house, where the mistress of it, Mrs.
Newland, was obliged to furnish a knife, fork, and plate,
and an old woman of the name of Daniel, was obliged to
APPENDIX. 421
bring" them salt. These two women heard them say, 'that
Paddy ate sweet,' and confirmed it, with a <d — n their
eyes.' These women are living* and worthy of credit, be-
ing judged honest and respectable in their line and situa-
tion of life."
ANOTHEE.
"Ojv a public day in the week preceding the insurrec-
tion, the town of Gorey beheld the triumphal entry of Mr.
Gowan at the head of his corps, with his sword drawn, and
a human finger stuck on the point of it.
"With this trophy he marched into the town, parading
up and down the streets several times, so that there was
not a person in Gorey who did not witness this exhibition;
while in the mean time the triumphant corps displayed all
the devices of Orangemen. After the labor and fatigue of
the day, Mr. Gowan and his men retired to a public house
to refresh themselves, and, like tme blades of game, their
punch was stirred about with the finger that had graced
their ovation, in imitation of keen fox-hunters, who whisk
a bowl of punch with the brush of a fox before their booz-
ing commences. This captain and magistrate afterwards
went to the house of Mr. Jones, where his daughters were,
and while taking a snack that was set before him, he
bragged of having blooded his corps that day, and that
they were as staunch blood-hounds as any in the world.
The daughters begged of their father to shew them the
croppy finger, which he deliberately took from his pocket
and handed to them. Misses dandled it about with sense-
less exultation, at which a young lady in the room was so
422 APPENDIX.
Shocked, that she turned about to a window, holding her
hand to her lace to avoid the horrid sight. Mr. Gowan
perceiving this, took the finger from his daughters, and
archly dropped it into the disgusted lady's bosom. She
instantly fainted, and thus the scene ended! Mr. Gowan
constantly boasted of this and other similar heroic actions.
which he repeated in the presence of brigade major Fitz-
gerald, on whom he waited officially, but so fai frotti meet-
ing his applause, the major obliged him instantly to leave
the company."
BLOODY PARSON.
The following atrocity happened in the county of Longford.
"The Rev. Mr. M , a parson magistrate, dined at
the house of a Mr. Kn — t, near Newtown, and was hospit-
ably entertained; another gentleman named F — ns, was
present. The parson drank punch, and having mentioned
that a man in the neighboring village had remarkable good
whiskey; the servant was dispatched at nine at night for a
bottle of it. The poor man went accordingly, and soon
returned, and made the bottle into punch for his master's
guests. When it was finished, the parson took his leave,
having called for an orderly constable named Rawlins, who
always attended him. He then told Mr. K. that that ras-
cal (alluding to the poor servant who had gone a mile in
the dark to procure liquor for this monster) was a damned
United Irishman, and he must take him up. Mr. K. re-
monstrated, and as well as Mr. F — , informed this Rever-
end Justice, that during two years he Jiad lived with him.
APPENDIX. 423
and had no fault, they believed him to he a harmless hon-
est man. Mr. M. — insisted on his prisoner going with
him; the gentlemen, after using every remonstrance, and
offering bail, were obliged to give up the servant. Mr. F.
was to go part of the same road that M — took, and ac-
cordingly went with him and witnessed the horrible trans-
action that shortly happened. When they had gone about
half a mile, the parson who had been using every sort of
opprobrious language to his prisoner, desired an immediate
confession. The poor man could not make any, on which
he ordered the police constable to shoot him, who answer-
ed, Not I really, sir.
"Then give me your guv*— on your knees, villain — I give
you but two minutes to pray! Tbe man fell on his knees,
and prayed for mercy. The constable and other gentle-
men interfered; but the parson directly shot his victim,
and left him there.
"A coroner's inquest found a verdict; and the grand
jury of the county of Longford, found a true bill for wilful
murder; and yet there has been no trial; and Parson M — ■
is still at large, and no doubt ready to continue the system
of murder, burning and transporting, for the sake of re-
ligion and good government. ( See Beauties of the Press,
p. 459.
WALKING- GALLOWS.
"A lieutenant, well known by the name of the \\ alking-
Gallows, at the head of a party of the "Wicklow regiment,
marched to a place called Gardenstown, in Westineath.
424 APPENDIX.
They went to the house of an old man named Carroll, of
seventy years and upwards, and asked for arms; and hav-
ing promised protection and indemnity, the old man deliv-
ered up to this monster three guns, which he no sooner re-
reived; than he, with his own hands, shot the old man
through the heart, and then had his sons (two young men)
butchered; burned and destroyed their house, corn, hay,
and in short whatever property they possessed. The wife
and child of one of the sous were inclosed in the house,
when set fire to, and would have been burned, had not one
of the soldiers begged their lives from the officer; but on
condition that if the bitch (using his own words) made the
least noise, they should share the same fate as the rest of
the family. This bloody transaction happened about two
o'clock on Monday morning, the 19th of June, 179T. He
pressed a car, on which the three bodies were thrown; and
from thence went to a village called Moyvore, took in cus-
tody three men, named Henry Smith, John Smith, and
Michael Murray, under pretence of their being United
Irishmen; and having tied them to the car on which the
mangled bodies of the Carroll's were placed, they were
marched about three miles, possing in the blood of their
murdered neighbors, and at three o'clock on the same
day were shot on the fair green of Ballymore; and so uni-
versal was the panic, that a man could not be procured to
inter the six dead bodies; the sad office was obliged to be
done by women. The lieutenant, on the morning of this
deliberate and sanguinary murder, invited several gentle-
men to stay and see what he called partridge-shooting. It
may not be improper to remark that lord Oxmantown re-
monstrated with the officers on the monstrous cruelty of
putting these men to death, who might be tried by the
APFEtfBIX\ 425
laws of theh' country and appear innocent. He begged
and intreated to have them sent to a gaol, and prosecuted
according to law (if any proof could be brought against
them) but his humane dibits proved fruitless; the men
were murdered/
"On the fair day of Bally more, 5th of June, a poor
man, of irreproachable character, named Kecnan, after
selling his cow, had his hand extended to receive the price
of her; when this valiant soldier struck him with his
sword on the shoulder, and almost severed the arm from
his bodv.
A young man named Hynes, a mason, passing through
the fair on his way home, was attacked by this furious sav-
age, and in the act of begging his life upon his knees, was
cut down by the lieutenant's own hands, and left lying for
dead. A clergyman, at the imminent risk of his life, flew
to the victim to administer the last consolation of religion,
when three of the militia were ordered back, and to make
use of a vulgar phrase, made a riddle of his body; the
clergyman, however, escaped unhurt. The lieutenant got.
somewhat ashamed of his abuses and, by way of apology
for his conduct, alleged that some stones were thrown,
though it is a notorious fact that no such thing happened.
"The clerk of Mr. Dillon, of Ballymahou, being in the
fair transacting his employer's business, was so maimed by
this valiant soldier and his pajrty, that his life was des-
paired of. Sixteen persons, whose names I have carefully
entered, were so cut, maimed and abused, that many of
them are rendered miserable objects for the remainder of
their lives. So much for keeping the peace of the coun-
try; to create inhabitants for the hospital or the grave,
seems to be the favorite measure of tranquilizing a nation,
3F
426 APPENDIX.
"A village called Mayvore, was almost at the dead hour
of the night set on fire, under the direction of captain Cl-
aud the humane lieutenant, and burnt to the ground, ex-
cept six houses. Captain 0 — , possessing a little more
humanity, seemed to feel for the unparalleled distress there-
by occasioned, while this modern Nero only laughed at
the progress of the destructive element, and called his
brother officer a chicken-hearted fellow for his seeming
compassion, for feeling a pang at tUe miseries he himself
created; seeing numbers of his fellow-creatures petrified
with horror at viewing their little properties consumed,
and afraid to make the least complaint; seeing that milita-
ry execution was their inevitable fate, should they make
the least murmur. Good God! is this the way to make
the constitution revered, or the government respected?
Had lord North still lived, and had the confidence ofJiajeshj,
he -would never recommend the practice of those measures
to save Ireland, which lost America.'' (Extracts from the
Press, p. 2 84. J
TOM THE DEVtL.
"It is said that the North Cork regiment were the in-
veuters, but they certainly were the intioducers of the
pitch-cap torture into the county of Wexford. Any per-
son having the hair cut short (aud therefore called croppy,
by which appellation the soldiers designated an United
Irishman) on being pointed out by some loyal neighbour
was immediately seized and brought into a guard-house,
where caps either of coarse linen or strong brown paper,
besmeared inside with pitch, were always kept ready for
service. The unfortunate victim had one of these well
ArPENDIX. 427
heated, compressed on his head, and when judged of a
proper degree of coolness, so that it could not be easily
pulled off, the sufferer was turned out amidst the horrid
acclamations of the merciless torturers, and to the view of
vast numbers of people, who generally crowded about the
guard-house door, attracted by the afflicted cries of the
tormented. Many of those persecuted in this manner,
experienced anguish from the melted pitch trickling into
their eyes. This afforded a rare addition of enjoyment
to these keen sportsmen, who reiterated their horrid yells
of exultation, on repetition of the several accidents to
which their game was liable upon being turned out; for in
the confusion and hurry of escaping from the ferocious
hands of these more than savage tormenters, the blinded
victims frequently fell or inadvertantly dashed their heads-
against the walls in their way. The pain of disengaging
the pitched cap from the head must have been next to in-
tolerable. The hair was often torn out by the roots, and
not unfrequently parts of the skin were so scalded or blis-
tered as to adhere and come off along with it. The terror
and dismay which these outrages accasioned, are incon-
ceivable. A sergeant of the North Cork, nick-named Tom
the Devil, was most ingenious in devising new modes of
torture. Moistened gunpowder was frequently rubbed in-
to the hair, cut close and then set on fire; some, while
shearing for this purpose, had the tips of their ears cut
off; sometimes an entire ear, and often both ears were
completely cut off; and many lost part of their noses during
the like preparation. But strange to tell, these atrocities
were publicly practised without the least reserve in open
day, and no magistrate or officer ever interfered, but
shamefully connived at this extraordinary mode of quiet-
4-3 APi-EN'tolX.
ing the people! Some of the miserable sufferers on these
shocking occasions, or some of their relations or friends,
actuated by a principle of retaliation, if not of revenge,
cut short the hair of several persons whom they either con-
sidered as enemies or suspected of having pointed them
out as objects for such desperate treatment. This was
done with a view, that those active citizens should fall in
for a little experience of the like discipline, or to make
the fashion of short hair so general that it mlerht no longer
be a mark of party distinction. Fem:de« were also ex-
posed to the grossest insults from these military ruffians.
Many women had their petticoats, handkerchiefs, caps,
ribbons, and all parts of their dress that exhibited a shade
of green (considered the national colour of Ireland) torn
off, and their ears assailed by the most vile and indecent
ribaldry." (Plowden, vol. TV. page 3A6.J
BLOODY FRIDAY.
"The northern part of the county of Wexford had been
almost totally deserted by the male inhabitants, at the ap-
proach of the army under General Needham. Some of the
Yeomanry* who had formerly deserted it, returned to Go-
rey, and on finding no officer of the army as was expected,
to command there, they, with many others, who returned
along with thera, scoured the country round, and killed
great numbers in their houses, besides all the stragglers
they met, most of whom were making the best of their way
home unarmed from the insurgents, who were then believ-
ed to be totally discomfited. These transactions being
made known to a body of the insurgents encamped at Pep-
parcl's Castle; they resolved to retaliate, and directly
APPENDIX. 429
marched for Gorey, whither they had otherwise no inten-
tion of proceeding. The Yeomen and their associates, up-
on the near approach of the Insurgents, fled hack with pre-
cipitation; and thence accompanied by many others, hast-
ened towards Arklow, hut were pursued as far as Cool-
greney, with the loss of forty-seven men. The day was
called bloody Friday. The insurgents had been exaspe-
rated to this vengeance, by discovering through the coun-
try as they came along several dead men with their skulls
split asunder, their bowels ripped open, and their throats
cut across, besides some dead women and children; they
even met the dead bodies of two women, about which their
surviving children were weeping and bewailing them.
These sights hastened the insurgents* force to Gorey,
where their exasperation was considerably augmented by
discovering the pigs in the streets devouring the bodies of
nine men, who had been hanged the day before, with seve-
ral others recently shot, and some still expiring." (Tlouo-
den, vol. V. p. 36. J
FEMALE WRETCHEDNESS.
"The Reverend Mr. Gorden, an Episcopal clergyman,
recounts an occurrence aft§r the battle, of which his son
was a witness, which greatly illustrates the state of the
country at that time: Two Yeomen coming to a brake or
clump of bushes, and observing a small motion, as if some
persons were hiding there, one of them fired into it, and
the shot was answered by a most piteous and loud screech
of a child. The other Yeoman was then urged by his
companion to fire; but being less ferocious, instead of
firing, commanded the concealed persons to appear, when
430 APPENDIX.
a poor woman arid eight children, almost naked, one of
whom was severely wounded, came trembling from the
brake, where they had secreted themselves for safety."
fPlowden, vol. V. p. 2. )
MART SMITH.
The following letter, the simple, unadorned and genuine ex-
pression of misery, may serve better than the most labored
strains of eloquence, to shew, that the hideous system of
Marat was never practised in full vigour, but against
the innocent and unresisting Irish peasant.
Moyvore, June 23, 1797.
Dear James,
'Jo my great grief and sorrow I have to inform you of
the untimely end of your two brothers; and, alas! me de-
prived of a good husband. It is tedious to insert all the
miseries the enemies to United Irishmen have brought on
this neighborhood; but particularly on the town of Moy-
vore, where there was forty houses and tenements burned,
and levelled to the ground, on Monday night last, totally,
by a boy of Pat Ward's, who was taken for robbery, and
to avoid being shot, turned informer, and brought in the
guilty and innocent. He first discovered where there was
found arms, and that was found true, they gave his speech
credit afterwards. The same day, after shooting three
men, the father and two sons where they found the arms,
they took poor Jack and Harry, together with one Mick
Murray, and when they could not get information from
them, after getting the rites of the church, they Were shot
on Ballymore green. We waked them in the chapel of
Moyvore, when no man dare go near us, and applied to
APPENDIX. 431
the Scully's, to shew us where we would bury them in
Moran's Town, and not one ' of them would come near us;
nor could we get one to carry them, until I'at Flanegan,
gave us a bed to carry them to Templepatrick, where wc
buried them. Harry's little effects were saved; but on ac-
count of my going backward and forward to Bally more, all
my effects were consumed to ashes, as there was no one to
carry them out. So, my dear friend, I have no shelter
here, and I will impatiently wait your answer: or if vou
can afford me any relief let me know it, as poor Jack re-
lied on you to relieve his children; so no more at present
from a poor disconsolate widow, who subscribes herself,
your loving sister-in-law.
( See Beauties of the Press, p. 346. ) MARY SMITH,
FEMALE CHASTITY.
Mr. Plowden, vol 4, p. 339, observes that "as to this
species of outrage, which rests not in proof, it is universally
allowed to have been exclusively on the side of the milita-
ry; it produced an indignant horror in the country, for it
is a characteristic mark of the Irish nation, neither to for-
get nor forgive an insult or injury done to the honor of
their female relatives. It has been boasted of by officers
of rank, that within certain large districts a woman had
not been left undented; and upon observation in answer,
that the sex must then have been very complying, the reply
was, that the bayonet removed all squeamishness. A lady
of fashion, having in conversation been questioned as to
this difference of conduct towards the sex, in the military
and the rebels, attributed it in disgust to a want of gal-
lantry in the croppies."
432 APPENDIX.
It had often happened to Irishmen, to he accused of
too great scnsihility to the charms of the fair. It remain-
ed for this desperate faction to make their generous con-
tinence their crime.
The crime then of Irishmen is this, to win the fair hy
persuasions, and defend them with their last drop of hlood.
The boast of their enemies is, to overcome their chastity
hy hrutal force, and their loathing by the bayonet. Oh,
monsters! hateful in the eyes of civilized humanity! More
barbarous than the tygers that prowl through the desert.
When your power and your money shall cease to bear down
truth, how hideous will be your name in future history!
Something similar to those boastings and those jests, is
a' work lately imported into America, as the production of
a British minister, Canning. There are some jokes,
vapid, stale and disgusting, touching the hanging of Irish-
men, and some drivelling attempts to laugh at Mr. Plow-
den's preface. If that witling author, whoever he was,
meant to point out to general view the abject meanness of
a British cabinet, he did well to advert to that preface.
If he wished to make known the spirit of the wolfish gang,
he did well to simper at their atrocious deeds in Ireland.
The felonious gibes of this author, have been compared
to the elegant irony of the Salmangundy. But oh how
unlike! That little American work, while it gracefully
wantons through the regions of taste, does not make sport
for ladies, of hanging and massacreing; nor would the del-
icacy and refinement of the American Fair tolerate such
ruffian railleries.
PINIS,
r
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