DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/irishconfederate01fiel Eng^byW.G. Jackman NY KMnrjr.. NEW YORK HARPER k BROTHER?. THE IRISH CONFEDERATES, )\ AND €\st lUbllinti nf 1798. BY HENRY M. FIELD. HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF STREET. 1851. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, BY CYRUS W. FIELD, In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. °f 4 /.T7 F ‘iSi-T TO THE DESCENDANTS OF TONE, SAMPSON, EMMET, AND McNEVEN, RESIDING IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, ®l)is Volume is Inscribed, IN MEMORY OF THE HAPPY HOURS PASSED IN THEIR SOCIETY. CONTENTS Preface, page - 9 CHAPTER I. A Glance at Irish History.—Aborigines of the Island.—Phoenician Colonies.—Traces of an Asiatic Origin.—St. Patrick introduces Christianity.—Invasion of the Danes.— Henry U. undertakes to subdue Ireland to the Pope, - ..----15 CHAPTER n. Why the Irish hate the English.—Ireland a conquered Country.—No Fusion of Races.— Intermarriages prohibited.—Attempt of Elizabeth to exterminate the Natives by Famine.—Duplicity of the Stuarts.—Cromwell in Ireland.—Massacre of Drogheda, and Estates confiscated.—English Plantations.—Policy of Charles II. to depress Ire¬ land.—Revolution of 1688.—The Irish forced to emigrate.—Scene at the Surrender of Limerick.—Irish Brigade formed in the European Armies, ----- 21 CHAPTER III. Difference of Religion.—Why the Reformation did not spread in Ireland as it did in Scotland.—Henry VIII. introduces it as a Matter of Policy.—Sends over Preachers ignorant and immoral.—The Catholics persecuted.—Penal Laws against them.— Priest-hunting, as among the Scotch Covenanters, - -- -- --35 CHAPTER IV. The Struggle for Irish Independence begins.—The American War.—Danger of a French Invasion.—The Irish Volunteers organized.—Demand for Free-trade and an Indepen¬ dent Parliament.—Revolution of 1782.—Rejoicings of the People.—Political Abuses still exist.—Demand for further Reform.—Grattan.—The French Revolution breaks out, -----------------48 CHAPTER V. Curran.—His Boyhood passed among the Peasantry.—Attends their Weddings and Funerals.—College Life.—Destined for the Church.—Chooses the Law.—Studies to make himself an Orator—Powers of Conversation.—Playful Fancy.—Wit, Humor, and Pathos.—Extreme Sensibility.—Sudden Transitions of Feeling.—Constitutional Melancholy.—Character of his Eloquence.—He defends a Catholic Priest.—The State Trials.—His Love of Ireland, ------------61 CHAPTER VI. Theobald Wolfe Tone.—Early Life.—Marriage.—Studies Law.—Project of a Military Expedition to the South Seas.—Settles in Dublin.—Friendship with Emmet and Russoll,. --....73 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. Excitement caused by the French Revolution.—Tone onters into Politics.—Division of Parties in Ireland.—He endeavors to unite the Dissenters and Catholics.—Founds the Society of United Irishmen.—Is appointed Secretary to the Catholic Committee.— His Efforts to obtain Catholic Emancipation.—Opposed by the Protestant Ascend¬ ency.—Convention in Dublin.—Petition to George III., ------ 79 CHAPTER Yin. The Irish Volunteers disbanded.—Earl Fitzwilliam Lord Lieutenant.—The United Irishmen changed to a Secret Society—Rev. William Jackson arrives as an Emis¬ sary from France.—Is arrested.—Anecdote of his Imprisonment.—Trial for Treason, and Death.—Hamilton Rowan makes his Escape from Newgate.—Fidelity of Irish Sailors.—Tone floes to America.—Meets old Comrades.—Sails for France, - - - 96 CHAPTER IX. Tone in Franco.—Shiel’s Speech.—Acquaintance with James Monroe.—Audience of Carnot.—Life in Paris.—Plans for invading Ireland.—General Hoche.—Tone’s first Interview.—Council of War with Hoche and Carnot, ------ -110 CHAPTER X. Tone in Hocho’s Staff.—Accompanies him to the Army.—Armament preparing at Brest.—Ruse with a Spy.—Tone enlists Irish Prisoners.—An Emissary sent to Dub¬ lin.—Tho Troops embark.—The Expedition sails.—Reaches Bantry Bay.—Driven off the Coast by a Gale of Wind, - - -- -- -- -- - -129 CHAPTER XI. Tone goes with Hoche to the Rhine.—Battle of Neuwied.—Plan of a second Expedition from Holland.—Dutch Fleet in the Texel.—Admiral Dewinter.—Mutiny at the Nore.—Battle of Camperdown.—Death of Hoche.—Formation of the Army of Eng¬ land.—Napoleon sails for Egypt, - -- -- -- -- -- 145 CHAPTER XII. The United Irish Society completes its Organization.—Numbers and Wealth involved in it.—Oaths of Secrecy.—Organized into an Army.—Attempt to suppress it by Force.—The Triumvirate, Clare, Castlereagh, and Cai hampton.—Reign of Terror in Ireland.—Men tortured to force Confessions.—The State Trials.—The Struggle ap¬ proaching.—Military Preparations.—The North impatient to rise.—Fatal Reliance on France, ---------------- 159 CHAPTER XIII. Lord Edward Fitzgerald.—High Birth.—Serves in the American War under Lord Rawdon.—Wounded at the Battle of Eutaw Springs.—Travels in Spain.—Rejoins his Regiment in Canada.—Tour to the Fails of Niagara, the Great Lakes, and the Missis¬ sippi.—Returns to England.—Meets Fox and Sheridan in the Society of London,— Visits Paris during tho French Revolution.—Marries a Daughtor of Madame de Gen- lis.—Enters Parliament.—Joins the United Irishmen.—Is appointed Commander-in- Cliief— 1 Talents for War.—Military Tactics,.. 175 CHAPTER XIV. Thomas Addis Emmet.—The Three Brothers.—His Education.—Studies Medicine at Edinburgh.'—Travels on tho Continent.—Adopts the Profession of Law.—Commences Practice in Dublin.—State Trials.—He takes tho Oath of the United Irishmen in open Court.—Intimacy with Tone.—Joins the Society.—Is chosen ono of tho Directors. - 191 CONTENTS. vii CHAPTER XV. William James McNeven.—A Connaught Man.—Educated at Prague and Vienna.— Settles as a Physician in Dublin.—Bold Conduct in the Catholic Convention.—Inter¬ view with an Emissary from France.—Sent on a Mission to Paris, - 196 CHAPTER XVI. William Sampson.—Early Voyage to America.—Commences the Practice of Law in Bel¬ fast.—Intimacy with Curran.—Anecdotes.—They are employed together on the State Trials.—Friendship of Lord Moira, - 203 CHAPTER XVII. Secrecy of tho Conspiracy.—Fidelity of the Irish to their Oaths.—Spies of Govern¬ ment.—Reynolds betrays the Leaders.—They are seized whilo in Council.—Arrest of Lord Edward Fitzgerald.—Trial and Execution of two Brothers, - - - 210 CHAPTER XVIII. The Rebellion or 1798.—Plot to take Dublin.—Rising in Kildare.—Engagements.— General Panic.—Proclamation to the Army, --------- 220 CHAPTER XIX. Insurrection in Wexford.—Provoked by Cruelties of the Soldiery.—The Rising headed by a Catholic Priest.—Battle of Oulurt Hill.—Battle of Enniscorthy.—Vinogar Ilili chosen us the Centre of Operations.—Scenes in the Rebel Camp, - 227 CHAPTER XX. Panic at Wexford.—The Rebels march on that Town.—Battle of the Three Rocks.— Flight of the King's Troops.—The Insurgents march against Gorey.—They defoat Colonel Walpole.—Crisis of the War, - -- -- -- -- - 235 CHAPTER XXI. Battles of Arlclow and New Ross.—Massacres at Scullabogue and Wexford.—The Armies converging.—Sir John Moore defeats the Insurgents near Wexford.—Battle of Vinegar Hill, - -- -- -- -- -- -- - 245 CHAPTER XXII. Guerilla Fighting kept up in the Mountains.—Warlike Character of the Irish.—Causes of the Failure of the Rebellion.—The Want of able Officers.—Death of Fitzgerald.— Desolations of the War, ----------- - -255 CHAPTER XXIII. New French Expedition.—Humbert sails without Orders.—Lands at Killala in the North of Ireland.—Takes Possession of the Town.—Is quartered in the Bishop’s Palace.— Character of his Army.—Marches on Castlebar, and defeats General Lake.—Surren¬ ders to Cornwallis, -------------- 263 CHAPTER XXIV. Last Expedition of Tone.—Captured in a Naval Engagement.—Trial before a Court Martial.—Curran’s Efforts to save him.—Sentence.—Last Letter to his Wife.—Deuth, 271 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXV. Lord Cornwallis.—Fate of the State Prisoners.—Compromise proposed by Govern¬ ment.—Examination before a Secret. Committee—Mitigations of Captivity.—Emmet’s Wife and Sister.—The Prisoners are sent to Fort George in Scotland.—Liberated at the Peace of Amiens, - -- -- -- -- -- -- 282 CHAPTER XXVI. Sampson is liberated from Prison on Condition of going into Exile.—Sails for Portu¬ gal.—Shipwrecked.—Reachos Oporto.—Is seized aud imprisoned.—Sent to Lisbon.— Thrown into the Dungeons of the Inquisition.—Is sent to Bordeaux.—Takes up his residence in Paris, - -- -- -- -- -- -- - 296 CHAPTER XXVII. The Union. —Proposal to abolish the Irish Parliament.—Designs of Pitt and Castle- reagh.—Excuses to justify tho Measure.—England in Danger.—Union carried by Bribery.—Promises violated.—The Prosperity of Ireland declines.—Absenteeism of Noblemen.—Effect on the Spirits of the People.—The Irish Orators.—Lament of Grat¬ tan.—Melancholy of Curran, ------------ 305 CHAPTER XXVIII. Robert Emmet.—College Eloquence.—Visits Paris after the Treaty of Amiens.—Rotums to Ireland.—Embarks in the Conspiracy.—The Insurrection takes Place at Night.—Is instantly suppressed.—Emmet lingers near Dublin.—Is arrested.—Speech on his Trial.—Sentenced to Death.—Farewell Letters.—His Execution.—The Broken Heart, 314 CHAPTER XXIX. The Exiles on the Continent.—They como to America.—Fate of Tone’s Family.—His Widow remains in Paris.—Her Son studies at the University.—Joins the Army.— Serves in the Campaigns of 1813 and 1814.—Wounded at the Battle of Leipsic.— Siege of Erfurt.—Quits the Army on the Fall of Napoleon.—The Family remove to the United States, and settle in Washington, - -- -- -- - 324 CHAPTER XXX. Career of Emmet in America.—Is admitted to the Bar.—Immediate Succoss.—Charac¬ ter of his Eloquence.—Appears before the Supremo Court of the United States.— Described by Judge Story.—Private Life.—Stroke of Apoplexy in Court.—His Death, 331 CHAPTER XXXI. Dr. McNeven settles in New York.—Chosen a Professor.—Marries an American Lady.— Efforts for Irish Emigrants.—Sampson resumes the Practice of Law.—Friendship of the Exiles.—Their Families connected by Marriage.—Death of Sampson and McNeven—They are buried side by side, - -- -- -- -- 342 CHAPTER XXXII. A last Look at Ireland.—Sad Aspects.—The late Famine.—Bright Spots here and there.— Emancipation of the Catholics.—The Established Church.—Grant to Maynooth.—The Queen’s Colleges.—Old Parties broken up.—The Orangemen.—No more Repeal.— Sale of encumbered Estates.—Tenant Right.—Elasticity of the Irish Character.— National Faults and Virtues.—Warm Affections.—The Irish Emigrant—Welcome to America.—Hope of better Days, - -- -- -- -- -- 351 $ r t f a r t. A visit to Ireland in the siunmer of 1847 won my heart for that country and people. Vague impressions of the tierce rebellion of 1798, and especially the fate of Robert Emmet, drew my thoughts to that portion of her history. But it was not until I came to know the families of the Irish exiles in New York that I learned the partic¬ ulars of that eventful struggle. The subject was new to me, and perhaps will be to many. If I mistake not, the history of Ireland is not gen¬ erally known. Many who are well read on every part of English, and even of Scottish history, seem little in¬ formed on that of the sister island. The border wars be¬ tween England and Scotland have been invested with every charm of poetry and romance, while the far longer and deadlier resistance of the Irish to their conquerors, fills but a paragraph in the general history of Britain. It is hardly remembered that Ireland was once a distinct na¬ tion, and that she has a separate history. Of these civil wars that of 1798 was the last, and possesses the freshest interest. The novelty of the story—the distinguished actors who A* X PREFACE. figured in it—and the tragical fate which so often termi¬ nated the career of the young and the brave—riveted my attention, and led me to think that a connected narrative of these events might possess interest to others. The struggle for Irish independence—which began during the American war, and closed with the Union in 1800—is one of the most remarkable passages of modem history. It has been thrown into the shade by the co¬ temporary French Eevolution. But the war of factions, and the Rebellion, in Ireland, was one in that series of convulsions which then agitated Europe. It has all the interest of a great battle for liberty. It was a contest car¬ ried on for more than twenty years between the passion for freedom on one hand, and arbitrary power on the other, a contest finally ending in civil war. It was a period of military atrocities—yet resisted and set in con¬ trast by individual heroism and popular enthusiasm—by eloquence in debate and courage in the field—a period, in short, like all revolutionary epochs, distinguished by great virtues and great crimes. The spectacle is full of excite¬ ment—a nation rising from the torpor of ages, and “shout¬ ing to the earth”—-the old chieftains, that have long held the fortress of power, alarmed and training their guns on the advancing masses—the people defeated and driven back, yet returning with new vigor to the conflict. The events are all closely connected, and are in continual pro¬ gress. They succeed each other regularly like the acts of a drama. The interest heightens at every succeeding act. We shall see how a peaceful movement for reform grew into an agitation for revolution; how an open political association PREFACE. xi darkened into a secret conspiracy ; how entreaties spurned changed to angry menaces, and threats ended in blood. The whole has its catastrophe in the rebellion of 1798. The progress of this story brings into view every vari¬ ety of incident. Now armed battalions move across the field in brilliant array—and now we follow peasants in their hiding-places among the hills. At one moment we are in the heat of battle—and then alone on the field at night, listening to the wail of a mother over her son. Now the narrative leads us to the floor of Parliament, watching till midnight the stormy debate—then to the court-room, where the young and ardent patriot is on trial for his life—and next we see him, attended by soldiers, marching to the place of execution with slow step and muffled drum. There is not a passion of our nature which is not awakened in reading this history—pity, grief, indignation; anger at the treachery of some, admiration at the fidelity of others. The melancholy fate of so many brave men, the sufferings and courage of the peasantry, the pathetic eloquence of the Irish orators—all lend a painful interest to the events we have to relate. It is a sad story. Yet Ave are fascinated even in these dark scenes by traits of the Irish character, which con¬ stantly break through the adversities of their condition, “ Like skies that rain and lighten,” by incessant flashes covering the darkened heaven Avith brightness. The record of so much suffering is relieved by the mixture of much that is honorable to our nature. XU PREFACE. These scenes have an additional interest to ns from the fact, that several of the principal actors in them were afterward cast upon our shores. At first I thought only to write brief memoirs of the Irish exiles, but this soon ran into a general history of the revolutionary scenes in which they bore a part. It therefore seemed best to make the design of this volume more complete; to embrace in it the origin and course of that projected revolution in which they were actors. The subject is a historical unity : the events of this period are so connected—the subject is so compact that it may be viewed apart. It forms a dis¬ tinct chapter in Irish history. I however so far adhere to the original design as to detail with particular minuteness the part borne by these illustrious exiles. They are the heroes of the story. It is often by following the fortunes of an individual that we obtain the most graphic picture of a historical period. As the American reader may feel particular interest in their fate, I have glanced rapidly at their history after they left their country and settled in ours. It is pleasant after scenes of strife and blood, to contemplate a picture of repose. It furnishes that relief to the eye which artists seek in painting. It affords that ex¬ quisite satisfaction to the moral feelings, which is the highest pleasure in history. The materials of this history are scattered through many volumes, and mixed up with masses of merely local or temporary interest. To sift huge octavos down to a few material facts, and to cast aside the party rancor with which every page of Irish history is disfigured, has been the labor of many months. The object has been to PREFACE. xiii glean from this wide field such details as might he of per¬ manent historical value, and to weave them into a con¬ nected tale. It has been my care to make this narrative strictly ac¬ curate; to introduce no feature into the scene for effect which was not authentic history. This has made it neces¬ sary to compare the different historians of that time. Many personal incidents have been communicated by the families of the Irish exiles. The reader will miss the vivacity which gave to each anecdote its charm in the re¬ lation. But I beg him to imagine that he is sitting before a blazing fire on a winter’s night, listening to Irish melo¬ dies, and in the intervals, that he hears these brief chap¬ ters recited by a fair reader, and with a pleasant voice. New York, Feb. 1851. —— -.- Castlt i&athvifly ihrims 'Crai&fw Lciohlitt CooUjratiey Royal Of, 'town. \ r S oresBt ■ CorrioriAO/ ffiu, '\Oidart- /(JIcLjRoss 7 y&y ' oScldlabc jroadwav Dujis^' qTJDie _o SEAIofREBELLION tv - t " I.\ 17 !)!', 77 , HARPER & BROTHERS . NEW YORK, Cjje Hrisjj Cnttfrtorata unit jUkllinti. CHAPTER I. A Glance at Irish History. The Irish claim to be a very ancient people. How long the island lay uninhabited—at what time man first set foot upon its silent shores—are matters of conjecture. Probably the same Celtic wave, which, at a remote period of time, swept across Europe, and inundated Britain, reached Ireland. But these aborigines of the island were half-naked savages, with long hair and of ferocious aspect, and belted with skins. They lived in rude huts, and sub¬ sisted on acorns, or by hunting and fishing. Society was in its rudest state. Divided into clans, they acknowledged the sovereignty of petty chiefs. Their religion, like that of the ancient Britons, was that of the Druids. But the Irish historians are fond of tracing their origin to a more civilized people. The Phenicians, the maritime adventurers of antiquity—so run their ancient chronicles —sailing westward, founded Carthage, and planted other colonies along the coast of Africa and in Spain, and from thence crossed to Ireland, the outer limit of the then 16 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. known world. Traces of this Asiatic origin yet remain in the land. The round towers, wkicli still stand like soli¬ tary columns in lier valleys, were erected at a period be¬ yond tlie reach of history, and are believed to have been reared for the worship of the sun. The feastings and cries of the peasantry at funerals—the Irish wakes—is a custom which carries us back directly to the East. Even thus early, portions of the country were inhabited by a powerful race. The Irish trace far back into this period the line of their kings. “ Remember,” says Ossian, “ the kings of Erin; the stately forms of old. Let not the fallen be forgot, they were mighty in the field.” But the island was but partially reclaimed by these bands of adventurers. The country itself was still a wilderness, a wild waste of lakes and mountains, of bogs and moors. The aboriginal savages still roamed through interminable forests. Bears had their dens in rocky cav¬ erns. The wolf came down to drink of her mountain lakes, and the deer slept in his covert unscared by the cry of the hunter. Wild fowl haunted her inland waters, and the eagle sailed along her northern rocky shores. The island lay in the solitude of nature. At length came Christianity, the true civilizer of na¬ tions. A holy man landed on the shores of Ireland. The life of St. Patrick is enveloped in some degree of obscu¬ rity, and perhaps looms up large in the twilight of tradi¬ tion. Still there seems no reason to doubt that there was such a man, who came over the sea in the fifth century, and devoted himself to the conversion of the poor island¬ ers. He gathered them in the open fields or under the ST. PATRICK. 17 shade of an aged oak, at the sound of a drum,* and preached to them the gospel. The savages sat at his feet in mute wonder as he related the story of the cross. They were won by his mildness, and awed by the sanctity of his life. And chiefs and vassals together embraced the new religion. Then rose churches and abbeys in many a sequestered valley of Ireland. Then were the hill-sides pressed by pious feet. The convent bell rang across the vale. Monasteries crowned many a hill, which were the reposi¬ tories at once of learning and of Christianity. From the sixth to the eighth century, Ireland was confessedly in ad¬ vance of England in civilization and in piety. Hither came the great Alfred to obtain that learning which his own kingdom could not afford. Irish missionaries propa¬ gated the gospel in the surrounding nations. To Ireland the Anglo-Saxon king Oswald applied for learned men to teach his people Christianity. An Irish monk, Columba, founded the monastery in the sacred island of Iona, “ which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion.”f The Irish chieftains derived wealth and power from the civilization of their people, and began to assume a rude, barbaric splendor. Lofty castles rose in which the bards of Erin, like those of Wales, sung of the deeds of their ancestors, and the harp was heard in the halls of Tara. * Neander’s History of the Church. t Johnson’s Tour to the Hebrides, 18 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Tlie Irish still linger with fondness on the traditions of ancient days. It is natural for an imaginative and high-spirited people—crushed by superior power—to try to forget their present wretchedness in the recollection of ancient glory. The Greek and the Italian, fallen, have never forgotten their former name. In twenty centuries the intense life of the ancient races has not become extinct. “ Still in their ashes live their wonted fires.” So the tra¬ ditional glories of Ireland give a charm to her hills and valleys. The songs of her ancient bards linger on the air, fainter and fainter, yet still more sweet, like the sound of bells dying away in the distance.* The pressure of Asiatic nations upon the tribes of Eastern and Northern Europe, precipitated the barbarians of Scandinavia upon the Roman Empire. The same vast migration of nations forced some of the Germanic tribes to the West. The Saxons landed in England, but seem not to have invaded Ireland. Not so easily did she escape the visit of'“the rugged Dane.” Sheltered behind Eng¬ land and Scotland, she felt not the first shock of inva¬ sion. But the bold sea-kings at length passed the Ork¬ neys, and turned their prows to the south. They sailed by the stormy Hebrides, and found a larger and more beautiful island. These intrepid navigators have left their footprints along the coast. Dublin is a Danish city. They retained their power in Ireland for two hundred years. * Whoever is curious in such matters will find the subject of Irish An¬ tiquities treated at great length in Moore’s History of Ireland. ENGLISH INVASION. 19 Scarcely were the Danes expelled before another in¬ vader came, whose hand is still upon the land. In 1170 the Anglo-Norman first set foot upon these shores. It is a curious fact that the invasion of Ireland was undertaken by the English to extend the authority of the Pope. The primitive churches of Ireland were remarkably pure. Remote from the center of Catholic Christendom, they were little affected by the corruptions of the Church of Rome. They cared little for festivals and splendid ceremonies, “only preaching,” says the venerable Bede, “ such works of charity and piety as they could learn from the prophetical, evangelical and apostolical writings.” They acknowledged no allegiance to the Pope. Indeed their churches could hardly be called Episcopal, for though they had bishops their clergy were all equal. There was a bishop to every parish. But he assumed no lordly pre¬ rogatives nor splendor. He was poor like the people whom he instructed. This fact may conciliate the regards of Protestants towards that unhappy country. In 1154, the same year that Henry II. ascended the throne of England, Nicholas Breakspear, the only Eng¬ lishman that ever filled the Papal chair, became Pope under the title of Adrian IY. Eager to extend his sway over all the British Islands, he issued a commission to Henry II. giving him authority to subdue Ireland to the Catholic faith. He Avas to pay to the Pope the tribute of a penny for each house, and on this sole condition was at liberty to establish himself as monarch of that country. This fact Catholic and Protestant historians have com- 20 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. bined to suppress, tliougb for very different reasons. The Catholics did not like to admit that they had been be¬ trayed by their Holy Father, nor the Protestants of Eng¬ land that to the gift of their great enemy they owed their only title to Ireland. True, several years after the Pope’s commission, the English were invited over, as the Saxons had been invited into England, to aid in settling a civil dispute, which gave another pretext for invasion. But they brought the commission of the Pope as their title to the land. The army under Strongbow, which landed in the south of Ireland, was a band of crusaders, marching under the banner of religion. So that, when English Protestants lament the obstinate adherence of the Irish to the Church of Route, they may thank themselves for teaching them the lesson which they have learned so well. CHAPTER II. W hy the Irish hate the English.—Ireland a Conquered Country.— No Fusion of Races. It is easy to understand the bitterness -which exists between the Irish and the English. Ireland is a conquered country. To reconcile a nation to new masters several generations must elapse. The wounded pride of a van¬ quished race can be healed only by time, and the most conciliating policy. But this fact alone does not explain the long-continued animosity. If Ireland was a conquered country, so was Scotland; so was Wales; so was England herself. But in all these instances there was a gradual fusion of races. The victorious invaders gradually melted down into the mass of the nation. Thus the fair-haired daughters of the Saxons won the hearts of their Norman lords; and woman’s charms effected what could not have been effected by centuries of wars. Thus in all the invasions of England. Ancient Britons, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, ran to¬ gether, and have made that composite race, which is now the noblest in the world. In Scotland and Wales the English at first encountered the same hostility as in Ireland. For hundreds of years 22 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. the name of the Saxon was as bitterly hated among the Highlands, and the Welsh mountains, as across the chan¬ nel. But these were parts of one island, and the waves of population gradually flowed together. Ireland was a distinct country, and could be Anglicized more slowly. Of a proud race, and inflamed with ideas of the an¬ cient glory of his country, the Celt stood apart from his foreign masters. But time heals all wounds. The blood shed in battle sinks into the earth; the grass grows green over the slain; and ancient feuds and wars at last die out from the memory of men. Here time would have brought oblivion and reconciliation, if continued oppression and cruelty had not kept the wounds fresh and bleeding. The most woful blunder ever committed in the long mis- government of Ireland, was the laws early passed prohib¬ iting marriages between the English and the native Irish, ■—even making it an act of high treason. This rendered the evil incurable. The two races, naturally jealous of each other, were thus forced asunder. The nation was divided into a dominant and a servile class; between whom there must be forever jealousy, hatred, and often civil war. Had the Normans, at the period of their conquest, prohibited marriages with the Saxons, the same bitterness would have been entailed upon England. The two races would never have coalesced. The animosity of slaves to their masters would have descended from generation to generation. The history of England would have been little more than a succession of wars between two races as utterly apart, and as deadly hostile, as the Spaniard and NO FUSION OF RACES. 23 the Moor. Had the same barbarous laws been passed in Wales and Scotland, to render impossible a mixture of the subjugated people with their masters, the English would have been as cordially detested in those countries to this day as they are in Ireland. It was the interest of England to make the hereditary divisions in her mixed people disappear as fast as possible, and to fuse the whole popula¬ tion of the British islands into one nation. But these laws rendered the line of division indelible. They branded the greater part of the nation as a subjugated people, and compelled the English to stand always in the attitude of invaders, clad in mail, and with arms in their hands. The Irish remained a distinct people, almost as much as the Jews, and with the hereditary sense of injustice which marks that stricken race. The English, continued aliens in the land, aliens by blood, by language, and by religion. Thus the two races remained apart, the one to cherish an inextinguishable sense of wrong, and hatred of their oppressors, and the other a bitterness against the poor people whose spirit of resistance they could not break. In Scotland great social inequalities existed, but the organization of the Highland clans gave the serf an interest in the favor of his lord. The clansman felt a pride in the success of his chieftain. He followed him to the war and to the chase, and in return received his powerful protection. Sometimes he shared his hospitality. The bagpipe was heard in the castle grounds, and rude Highlanders in their tartans danced on the green sward, and then ate and drank at their chiefs expense. These 24 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. friendly customs, which were remnants of feudal times, softened tlie rigor of tire peasant’s lot, and made tlie relation between him and bis superior one of affection. 33 ut in Ireland tbe lord and the peasant were of different races, and had no feelings in common. The landlord did not deign to speak to the laborer. The peasant did not dare to address his master. They remained sullenly apart, the one in his palace, the other in his hovel. As there was no duty of protection on the one side, there was no gratitude or allegiance on the other. Such persevering misgovernment arose in part from ignorance of the Irish character. For six hundred years the English have been masters of Ireland, and yet they have not understood the people of that country. The intense self-consciousness, the in¬ domitable pride and will of an Englishman, prevent him from entering into the feelings of one differently constitu¬ ted from himself. They have regarded the natives of Ireland as a turbulent, half-barbarous people, that must be awed by harsh government. A more ignorant and suicidal policy could not be devised. A Frenchman is not more unlike an Anglo-Saxon than is an Irishman. Like the Highlanders, and all Celtic nations, the Irish are a chival¬ rous, proud, and high-spirited people. They can not be cowed by severity. Oppression but exasperates them and renders them more ungovernable. They can not be so tamed. On the other hand, they have warm hearts, and might easily be conciliated by kindness. If the English could stoop to conciliation, they would not find a more grateful and loyal people in all their dominions. POLICY OP EXTERMINATION. 25 But tlie policy early adopted in Ireland was that often pursued by civilized nations, who have conquered savage tribes; presenting only the alternative of slavery or ex¬ termination. At first the English rule was confined to a portion of the island, called the Pale. But as they extend¬ ed their explorations, they found that it was all a goodly land, worthy of conquest and pillage. The English knight, I pricking over the hills of Connaught and Munster, reined in his horse on the heights to look down on the broad lands, and noble bays and rivers at his feet. Sir John Davies wrote home:—“I have visited all the provinces of that kingdom, in sundry journeys 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 traffickc 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 are not to be seene in any part of Europe; the rich fishings and wild fowle of all kinds; and lastly, the bodies and minds of the people, endued with extraordinary abilities of nature.” Such was the prize offered to English cupidity. It was an age of brilliant conquest. Cortez had subdued the proud Mexican monarchy. Pizarro had added Peru, a land of gems and gold, to the vast dominions of Spain. Anti now Elizabeth proposed the complete subjugation of Ireland. The policy adopted was as unsparing and re¬ lentless as that of Cortez in Mexico. But the Briton found in the Celt a haughtier foe than the Spaniard found in the Mexican. The Irish were often vanquished in battle, but B 26 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. never subdued. It was then proposed to exterminate the people by laying waste the country. Burning and mas- I sacre devastated the land. The flames, set to fields of waving grain, consumed the food of the people. Famine completed the havoc which war had begun. Then ensued a scene of woe, only equaled by the ravages of Hyder Ali in the Carnatic. “ Ho spectacle,” says Morrison, “was ! more frequent in the ditches of towns, and especially in wasted counties, than to see multitudes of these poor people dead, with their mouths all colored green by eating nettles, docks, and all things they could rend up above ground.” It seems too much to impute to England the deliberate design of exterminating a whole nation. But long enmity and cruel wars had so imbittered the English against the Irish, that they were hardly sensible of the barbarity of their conduct. Even the gentle poet Spenser applauds the success of this policy, and recommends that the country be still kept waste, so that gradually it may be depopulated. “ The land being thus kept from manurance, and their cattle from running abroad, by this hard restraint, they would quietly consume themselves, and devour one an¬ other ; the proof whereof I saw sufficiently in those late wars of Munster, for notwithstanding that the same was a most rich and plentiful country, full of corn and cattle, ■ that you would have thought they would have been able to stand long, yet in one year and a half they were ( brought to such wretchedness as that any stoney heart would have rued the same. Out of every corner of the woods and glynnes they came creeping forth upon their SEVERITIES OF CROMWELL. 27 hands, for their legges could not bear them. They looked like anatomies of death ; they spake like ghosts crying out of their graves; they eat the dead carrions, happy where they could find them; yea, and one another soon after, insomuch as the very carcasses they spared not to scrape out of their graves; and if they found a plot of water- cresses or shamrocks, to these they flocked as to a feast for the time, yet not able to continue therewithall; that in a short space there were none almost left, and a most populous country suddenly left void of man and beast.” During the bitter wars of the time of Charles I., no matter which party got the upper hand, the Irish were fated to suffer. They suffered from the duplicity of Charles, and they were crushed under the iron hand of Cromwell. The Irish were devoted to the house of Stuart, and stood by them in all their misfortunes. But this wretched family repaid their devotion with the basest treachery. Charles I., and James II., while looking to the Irish for support, and for the maintenance of their thrones, were both playing a double game. The Irish were the most faithful supporters of the house of Stuart, and that house abandoned them to ruin. It found, when too late, that in this treachery it had ruined itself. Cromwell came to Ireland apparently with the feeling [. that the country had never been conquered, and deter- ■ mined to finish the work. lie attacked Drogheda, which, . after an obstinate defense, surrendered on promise of quarter. The bravery with which the town was defended would have led a generous foe to grant honorable terms. 28 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. But Cromwell refused even to ratify the agreement of his officers, by which their lives were to be spared. He ordered the whole garrison to be put to the sword. It con¬ sisted of two thousand men, and the butchery occupied two days. It was the design of this massacre to strike terror into the hearts of the Irish. Perhaps, to some ex¬ tent, it succeeded. But it fixed the first indelible stain on the name of Oliver Cromwell. The same horrors were re¬ peated at Wexford. Cromwell forbade his soldiers to give quarter. Then did this holy army take possession of the coun¬ try, and comparing themselves to the Israelites, and Ire¬ land to Canaan, proceeded to distribute the promised land among their tribes. Confiscation followed confiscation. Almost the whole island changed hands. The best Irish estates were distributed among the praying captains and majors of Cromwell’s army. Of the Irish who were per¬ mitted to live, thousands were driven into the wilds of Connaught. The Roundhead was as unscrupulous as the Cavalier in taking possession of the Irish lands. Both were ready to raise the cry of “ no popery,” or “ the English interest,” whenever it was necessary to secure them. In the civil war in Ulster, in 1641, Sir William Petty ob¬ serves, “ There was now a great game to be played for the estates of the Irish proprietors. Upon so great odds the English won, and have, besides other pretenses, a game¬ ster’s right at least to their estates, but as for the blood shed in the contest, God alone knows who did occasion it.” It is an instance of those strange inconsistencies which meet us everywhere in history, that the period when the THE PURITANS IN IRELAND. 29 English people were most clamorous for liberty themselves, was the period in which they bore most hard upon others. The date of liberty in England was the date of oppression in Ireland. The Parliament under Cromwell humanely de¬ clared “that it was not their intention to extirpate the Irish nation!” And yet this same Parliament, which gave liberty to England, resolved in solemn debate by both houses, “that they would not consent to the toleration of popery in Ireland, or any of his majesty’s dominions,” which was in effect declaring a war of extermination against seven eighths of the whole population of that country. Every impartial historian now concedes the great ser¬ vices rendered by the Puritans to the cause of English lib¬ erty. But that they were more advanced than the rest of their age, in principles of toleration, is not so apparent. If anywhere on earth just religious liberty could be found at that day, it should have been in that band of pilgrims who sought freedom to worship God amid the forests of this new world. Yet from these shores, bleak and inhos¬ pitable, yet dear to our fathers, because they afforded a refuge from oppression, went forth this counsel to old Eng¬ land: “I begge upon my hands and knees, that the ex¬ pedition against them [the Irish] may be undertaken while the hearts and hands of our souldiery are hot, to whom I will be bold to say briefly: happy is he that shall reward them as they have served us, and cursed be he that shall do the work of the Lord negligently, cursed be he that holdeth back his sword from blood; yea, cursed be he that maketh not his sword starke drunk with Irish blood, that 30 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. doth not recompense them double for their hellish treach¬ ery to the English, that maketh them not heaps upon heaps, and then- country a dwelling-place for dragons, an astonishment to nations: let not that eye look for pity, nor that hand to be spared, that pities or spares them, and let him be accursed, that curseth not them bitterly.”* Such were the sentiments which national jealousy and religious hatred could inspire even in the breasts of good men. With such messages came the English to crush the last spark of liberty out of a brave and unfortunate people. How different from that gentle reign which Christ came to establish on earth! When Charles II. was restored to his father’s throne, the loyal Irish, who had forfeited their estates for taking up arms to support his father, expected to be reinstated in their just possessions. But so far from this, Charles con¬ firmed the confiscations of Cromwell, thus punishing the loyalty of his Irish subjects. The motive of this strange act was curious. It was that Cromwell, though a regicide in England, stood in Ireland as the representative of the English interest, and to dispute the authority of England, by Avhomsoever governed, was an offense not to be for¬ given. The whole aim was to establish in Ireland a pow¬ erful English interest. This had a double object—to pre- * The Simple Cobbler of Aggawam in America, by Rev. Nathaniel Ward. This clergyman camo to this country in 1634, and was pastor of the church at Ipswich, Mass. He returned to England in 1646, and preached before the House of Commons, and published a book with the above quaint title, on the political state of England. It is a book of much wit. Its spirit may be judged of from the extract above. POLICY OF CHARLES IL 31 vent Ireland from becoming a commercial rival, and to secure her close dependence upon England. It was a I scheme of bargain and plunder between England and her Irish colony. To the English residents in Ireland was granted as their share of the spoil, the internal government of the country, the broad lands of the Irish, and their spoliation at home, while they were to purchase the support of England by the sacrifice of national independence and of foreign trade. British statesmen had already begun to see that Ireland, if left to herself, might become a great power on the seas. The natural features of that island, its deep rivers, and broad-armed ports, pointed it out as fitted to be a great commercial country. The English government anticipated this, and it therefore became a settled policy that Ireland should be systematically depressed, to prevent her becoming a rival of England. Thus, while the ships of England were crossing all oceans, extending the wealth and power of their country, the commerce of Ireland was subjected to restrictions which amounted to a virtual pro¬ hibition. While English merchants were reaping the wealth of the Indies, the Irish were left to derive a scanty subsistence from digging the soil. In this, Ireland was treated like the other English colonies, which do not exist at all for themselves, but only to pour riches into the lap of the mother country. The policy was successful. In two hundred years it has made England the richest coun¬ try on earth, and Ireland the poorest. The Revolution of 1688 gave the English a new excuse for robbery, for the Irish had been faithful to the fallen 32 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. monarch. The course of the Irish in this civil war was one of honor, though of misfortune. They defended James II. bravely at the battle of the Boyne, and would have car¬ ried the day but for his cowardice and vacillation. But while they were shedding their blood for him on the banks of that stream which rolled red on that terrible day, the monarch deserted them, and fled to France. However, they shed no tears for that. They were heartily glad to have him gone. “ Change kings,” was their cry, “ and we will fight the battle over again.” They were then free to carry on the war on their own account, unchecked by a cowardly king. They retired behind the Shannon, and threw themselves into Athlone and Limerick. William advanced to attack them, and was signally defeated. The next year the great Marlborough resumed the war with better success. The last fortress fell, and the war was ended. Two days after the treaty was signed, the French appeared off the coast, coming, as they have generally done, to the assistance of Ireland, a little too late. The glory of that long defense of their country and their king, belongs to the Irish alone. The fate of war was against them, but their honor, their courage, and their fidelity, had at least been maintained, and should have secured them generous terms. Never had a struggle less reason to be denounced as a Rebellion. They fought against rebellion. But the pretense was eagerly seized for new confiscations. Ireland was once more a conquered country, and “ to the victors be¬ long the spoils.” William himself was an enlightened and tolerant king. He wap carried away by no furious hatred of the Irish, or of their religion. The Prince of Orange THE IRISH FORCED TO EMIGRATE. 33 was no Orangeman, though that persecuting association have taken his name. But he was overborne by the rapa¬ cious soldiers who followed his banners. Again ancient Irish families were compelled to leave their homes and the ! graves of their fathers, and go forth like Abraham, not knoAving Avhither they went. Again, a neAV brood settled j in the land. Wasted comities Avere filled up by the En¬ glish plantations. Almost the whole of Ulster was occu¬ pied by Scotch Presbyterians. In Scotland there have been tAvo open rebellions since i —in 1715, and in 1745. It is hardly a hundred years since the English cavalry rode doAvn the Highlanders, who had taken up arms for Charles Stuart, on the field of Culloden. But Iioav different Avas the treatment of Scotland from that of Ireland! Such has been the war of extermination which England has carried on in Ireland. By the most sweeping confisca¬ tions knoAvn in the history of the world, and by a general system of expatriation pursued for hundreds of years, she has tried to root out the old stock, and to cause the nation to dA\ r indle aAvay. God has brought their counsels to naught. The more the Irish have been oppressed, the more they have increased. In spite of Avar and famine, they have multiplied like the Israelites in Egypt. Where the proud spirit of the Irish could not be bro¬ ken, the alternative has sometimes been given them to em¬ igrate. At the surrender of Limerick was witnessed a scene which illustrates the spirit of Irishmen. In the terms of capitulation it was agreed that the troops who Avere un- B* 34 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. willing to enter the service of England should have liberty to retire to France. A flag was planted in front of the town; the representatives of three kings stood beside it; and as the army marched by, those who chose the service of the King of England were to file to the left, those who chose France to keep on. All was silence on the plain, save the slow tramp of fifteen thousand men. A few hun¬ dreds only turned to the left. The great body marched on in solid column, preferring exile to a home in their coun¬ try no longer free. They were soon the flower of the armies of Louis XIV. So the severity of Cromwell drove thousands into foreign countries—a suicidal policy, which England has had cause to rue on many a bloody field. This led to the formation of Irish brigades in the continental armies. A reserve of these troops turned the tide of battle at Fontenoy against “the proud Cumberland.” So England has often been crossed by the sword of her exiled subjects in the armies of Xapoleon, and in both the American wars. CHAPTER III. Difference of Religion.—Why the Reformation did not spread in Ireland.—Persecution of the Catholics. The cause which more than all others has kept up the alienation of races in Ireland, has been difference of re¬ ligion. Without bearing this in mind, no one can under¬ stand Irish history. This is the cause which has made its civil feuds and wars so bitter. Had the Reformation spread in Ireland as it did in Scotland, there might have been a gradual assimilation of the Celtic and Saxon races. But as it stopped the other side of the channel, it rather aggravated the condition of the Irish, as it destroyed the only bond which remained between them and their conquerors, the bond of religion. A stumbling-block to the reader of Irish history is the fact that the Reformation never spread in Ireland. It will not do to set this down at once to the stupidity of the Irish people. Whatever calamity it may have been to them that they did not embrace the new religion of their masters, the Protestants of England have themselves to blame for it. The measures employed to introduce it re¬ volted the nation. Had it been brought to them in the true spirit of Christianity, it would have met little resistance. 3G THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Had pains been taken to instruct the people, to commend the new faith to their intelligence or to their affections, the effect would have been different. Had their preju¬ dices been conciliated by kindness; had their confidence been won by the ministry of truly pious men, who went among the people, who sympathized in their depressed state, who shared then- poverty, and instructed them by conversation and by example, they would have found will¬ ing hearers in the cabins of that warm-hearted people. Had some bold and earnest reformer, like John Knox, risen up to give his own stamp to the clergy, and devoted himself to the welfare of the people, the Reformation woidd doubtless have spread as rapidly as it did in Scotland. Happy for Ireland had it been so ! What makes Scot¬ land the glory of all lands? Her hills are bleak. Her glens are wild and savage. The rain beats on her bald mountains. Her gorges foam with mist. What hand un¬ seen hath made flowers bloom upon the barren waste ? A pure religion has descended like a baptism on her hills. And from many a lonely sheiling steals up the voice of prayer and of singing. These glens are made beautiful by the feet of heavenly guides. “ On the Grampian hills” the spiritual shepherd “feeds his flock.” But in Ireland the change of religion was a mere mat¬ ter of policy, and it was forced upon the nation in the most harsh and intolerant spirit. That country has been unfortunate in the apostles who have undertaken to teach her a better faith than her early, simple Christianity. Henry II., who was commissioned to subdue Ireland to the Pope, before he could enter on that holy work, was whip- APOSTLES OF REFORMATION. 37 ped by eight monks for the murder of a saint at tbe sbrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury. Of Henry VIII. who intro¬ duced the Reformation, the high reputation for sanctity is well known. As the motives of this monarch were the lowest, so the means he employed were the worst. The preachers sent among the Irish were generally ignorant, and often not even men of decent morals. They took no pains to learn the Irish language. The liturgy was read in English, which to the peasantry was an unknown tongue. In condescension however to popular ignorance, where an English reader could not be found, permission was given to celebrate the service in Latin! Of two un¬ known tongues the people chose that which they had been accustomed to hear from their priests. For the spiritual welfare of the people the imported clergy cared nothing. So utterly neglected was religious instruction, that but for the Presbyterians of the north, and the Methodists, who have been the missionaries of the poor, Protestantism at this day would hardly have a name in Ireland, except among the aristocracy and the hangers-on of government. The rector stood aloof from the peasant, and hardly took notice of his existence except in collecting his tithes; while the priest was his companion, his counselor and friend. Was it strange that the poor people, who always judge more from example than from argument, should have hesitated to abandon the faith of their fathers for a new religion which furnished such sorry examples of piety? Attached therefore as we are to the Protestant faith, we can not but regard the fact that the Irish clung to their ancient religion under these circumstances as most ss THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. honorable to their national character. It is no credit to a man to change religions without very substantial reasons. He who does it puts shame upon his fathers by deserting the faith in which they lived, and died. But what reason had the Irish to change their faith? Of the abstract points in dispute probably not one in a thousand had the means of forming a judgment, even if he had the capacity to decide upon such questions. Since then they could have no opinion of their own, they could only change on the authority of some one whose superior knowledge and character should be a sufficient guaranty for the truth and excellence of his doctrine. But Henry VIII. was hardly enough of a saint to create a strong presumption in favor of the reformed Christianity. Was it a proof of the stupidity of the Irish that they did not instantly recognize that exemplary king, or his royal daughter Elizabeth, to be divinely commissioned to preach a new religion? Was it to their disgrace that they did not forsake the faith which they had received from their spiritual guides at the bidding of a tyrant, or of an imperious woman ? Lordly prelates were easily seduced to change their church for the sake of advancement. Out of nineteen bishops in the time of Elizabeth, seventeen abjured popery as readily as in the former reign they had renounced Protestantism.* But the parish priests and the poor peasantry clung to the * Taylor’s History of the Civil Wars in Ireland. This work has been re¬ published in this country in two volumes of Harper’s Family Library, under the title of History of Ireland. The references to it here are to the American edition. REFORMATION DOES NOT SPREAD. 39 worship of tlieir fathers. Which gave the better evidence of an earnest faith in Christianity ? The Puritans brought still another form of doctrine. But of these new Protestants all that the Irish saw, was that they were foreigners, who invaded their country with their creed in one hand and the sword in the other ; that they claimed to be saints, and so to have a right to possess the earth; that they came to drive out the Irish as hea¬ then, and were more anxious to exterminate than to con¬ vert them, since the former only would enable them to seize upon their lands. The Irish could not yield to such arguments. They could not associate religion with con¬ fiscation and massacre. They could not receive the gospel from hands red with the blood of their brethren. It was manifestly for their interest to turn Protestants. But to have done so, instead of showing them a more devout people, would only have evinced an indifference to all religion. It would have argued about as sincere con¬ viction as Bern’s turning Mohammedan. Nothing shows such entire recklessness of religion as facility in changing it. It is therefore the strongest proof that the ancient Christianity had a hold upon the affections of the Irish people, that they would not change it, even when driven from their homes and threatened with death. If any thing had been wanting to complete the aliena¬ tion of the Irish from the Reformed doctrine, it was sup¬ plied by the attempt to enforce it by cruel laws. We hear much of the persecution of Protestants in former ages by Catholics, and it is well to be reminded that Prot¬ estants in their days of power have not always been mild 40 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. and tolerant.* Hainan nature must be changed before the Irisli Catholics can regard Protestantism with any other emotions than those of horror. From the day that Henry VIII. proclaimed a new religion through¬ out the British Islands, they have known nothing of it but its oppressions. It is associated with England, the country which they most hate. To this day they have but one word in their language to designate Englishman and Protestant. Both are Sassanagh. The very name recalls the wrongs of hundreds of years. It brings afresh to mind the oppressors of their country, the murderers of their fathers and mothers. The Protestants first came to Ireland, like Mohammed among the tribes of Arabia, sword in hand. Instead of soothing down old enmities, they re¬ vived hereditary feuds, and made the hatred of the Saxon and the Celt more bitter and relentless. When religion is perverted to sanction wrong; when an unenlightened con¬ science or mistaken sense of duty justifies persecution, it produces a cruelty more refined, a torture more exquisite,, than mere revenge knows how to prepare for its victims. Thus, when the Puritans came to Ireland, the intensity of * I shall not soon forget a conversation with the president of Maynooth. We were walking in the library of the College, talking of the Church of Rome. He listened with kindness to my objections, and made such answers as he thought satisfactory. I expressed abhorrence of the persecutions by the Catholics. He stopped, and speaking slowly and with great energy, replied, “Yes, the Catholics have persecuted; but not more than the Protes¬ tants; and never—never in the history of the world was there an instance of such persecution as that of the Irish Catholics.”, The earnestness with which he spoke startled me, but since I am better acquainted with the wrongs of his country, it no longer excites surprise. NO FAITH WITH PAPISTS. 41 their religious zeal led them into cruelties which their hearts would not have prompted. They were ready to call down fire from heaven to burn up their enemies, be¬ cause these were also the enemies of the Lord. They had continually before their minds the Israelites in Canaan, and felt called upon by the voice of God to exterminate an idolatrous nation. They were fond of quoting the texts, “ That thy feet may be dipped in the blood of thine enemies, and that the tongue of thy dogs may be red with the same,” and “ The high praises of God Avere in their mouths, and a tAVO-edged sword in their hands, to execute vengeance upon the heathen, and punishments upon the people.” The Catholics have been branded Avitli infamy because some of them have held that no faith Avas to be kept Avith heretics. We are not anxious to screen them from deserved reprobation. A doctrine so atrocious, Avherever it appears, should be held up to the detestation of man¬ kind. But let the truth be told. Many of the saintly Puritans taught no better morality. They held that all obligations were dissolved in treating with the enemies of God and man. “Not a few of the preachers of that period denounced from their pulpits the sparing of the papists as a heinous sin, and urged the godly to consum¬ mate the Avork of slaughter, even as Samuel had hewed Agag in pieces before the Lord at Gilgal.”* If Ave ask the cause of this inhumanity, Ave shall find that it Avas owing to religious bigotry, stimulated by self- interest. The Protestants of Ireland Avere honorable men Taylor, vol. ii. p. 45. 42 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. in other respects. They made great pretensions to re¬ ligion. They were men of integrity and uncommon purity of life—honest, upright, fearing God, and not awed by man. They, too, had shown a heroism in suffering in their evil times, which had won for them the admiration of mankind. But fanaticism hardened their hearts. It steeled them against pity. The spirit of religious bigotry, which is set on fire of hell, consumed every sentiment of humanity. We do not charge these crimes to the whole Protestant world. But neither is it fair to charge the sentiments of a few fanatical Dominicans upon the whole of Catholic Christendom. Persecution was the error not of one church only, but of an age ignorant and superstitious— an age, we trust, forever past. But the determination to crush Popery was not left to the occasional violence of persecution. It was framed into a code of laws, more bitter and relentless than ever before were devised to put down a religion. Gladly would we pass over this dark chapter, but the truth of history com¬ pels us to notice the penal laws enacted against the Catholics of Ireland. Persecutions have taken place in other countries. Religious wars have destroyed the tran¬ quillity of many nations. But a cruelty so systematized, a code sc inhuman, we know not where else to find. “You abhorred it,” said Burke, “as I did, for its vicious perfection; for I must do it justice, it was a complete sys¬ tem, full of coherence and consistency, well digested and well composed in all its parts. It was a machine of wise and elaborate contrivance, and as well fitted for the op- LAWS AGAINST CATHOLICS. 43 pression, impoverishment and degradation of a people, and the debasement in them of human nature itself, as ever proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man.” By the laws passed in the reign of Queen Anne, a Catholic could not purchase an acre of ground in the kingdom. He could not purchase any manor, or tene¬ ment, or even hold a lease for a term exceeding thirty-one years. Even his lease, if he got over a certain profit from it, he forfeited to the first Protestant who made the dis¬ covery. If a Catholic owned a horse, of whatever value, a Protestant could take it from him upon paying him five pounds. Catholics were excluded from many profitable branches of trade, and in many instances from residence within the walls of cities. If they were not reduced to absolute penury, it was from no lack of effort to impov¬ erish them. A Catholic could hold no office of trust or emolument, either civil or military; and this, though the army and navy were filled with Irish Catholics, serving as privates. They were admitted into the ranks as slaves, but never allowed to be masters. Thus the sense of dignity and self-respect which comes from the possession of property, or from official station, was utterly broken down. Catholics had no hand in the administration of justice, and dared not hope for redress for any wrong. They were not even allowed to sit on grand juries. Thus there was no obstacle to the petty tyranny of the country justice. The Protes¬ tant ascendency had the gratification of making their heavy hand felt in every village and cabin of unhappy Ireland. Nor in this extremity had the Catholic the 44 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. resource of education, or of peaceful religious worship. Catholics were not allowed degrees in the university of Dublin; nor could they found or endow any university, college, or school of their own, even to educate their own children. A papist could not teach, even as assistant to a Protestant master. A reward of ten pounds was offered for the discovery of a Catholic usher! This narrow policy punished itself. For as the Irish ecclesiastics could not obtain an education in their own country, they were sent to study in the seminaries of France and Spain, and returned to Ireland, stronger in their Catholic prejudices, and unlimited in their devotion to the Pope. Still the vengeance of the law hung over them. They were not permitted to celebrate their religious worship. Fifty pounds were offered for the discovery of a Catholic bishop, and twenty pounds for a priest! A Catholic could not marry a Protestant. As late as 1745, (scarce a hundred years ago,) this law was amended by an addition, that any papist priest, who celebrated such a marriage, should be hanged! Thus were they branded as a degraded race. Guilty of no crime, convicted of no wrong, simply for his religious faith, the Catholic was visited with those penalties, which, under just laws, are reserved for robbery and murder. Catholics and Protes¬ tants were kept apart from birth. How could they help feeling that they were natural enemies ? “ Such laws, ” said an Irish orator, “ were sown like the dragon’s teeth in my country; but, thank God, the harvest has been armed men!” i LAWS AGAINST CATHOLICS. 45 But this infamous code went still farther, and attempted to introduce discord into every Catholic family. It sought to destroy confidence between parents and children, by holding out temptations to the son to rob his father. If the son of a papist conformed to the established religion, he succeeded to the family estate, which from that moment the father could not sell, nor mortgage, nor dispose of by will. No papist could be in a line of entail, but the estate passed on to the next Protestant heir, as if the papist were dead. A papist could not be the guardian of his own child. If the child, though ever so young, pre¬ tended to be a Protestant, it was taken from the father, and placed under the care of the nearest Protestant relation. At the same time the father was bound to pay an annuity for its support.* Such were the laws against the Catholics of Ireland, passed by the Protestant ascendency of that country, backed by England;—a code, which did not come down from the dark ages, but which was enacted at the com¬ mencement of the Eighteenth Century! And this at the very time that the ministers of England were engaged in a negotiation with the Emperor of Germany to obtain a full toleration of Protestantism in his dominions! “Shame can no farther go.” These laws were executed in the most sanguinary spirit. Catholic chapels were shut up by force. Their clergy were sent to prison, or into exile. The history of persecution in Ireland has not been so often presented as * For a full exposure of the enormity of this code, see Sidney Smith’s articles in the Edinburgh Review, and Peter Plymley’a Letters. 46 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of tliat in Scotland. But if worthily written, it would be found as rich in tales of religious heroism as that of the Scotch covenanters. Priest-hunting was an amusement for the gentry in Ireland as well as in Scotland. Some¬ times bloodhounds were employed to track the game* And many were the faithful priests, who met their flocks in caves, in mountains, and morasses, to administer the rites of their religion. We record these acts of wrong in no spirit of triumph at the discovered tyranny of another country. It is no part of the design of this volume to revive bitterness against England, the Mother of Nations. We can speak even of these things with calmness, for they are irrevo¬ cably past, and there is no prospect that they will ever return. Still it is fit that they should live in history, along with tales of Bastilles and Inquisitions, as melancholy proofs of “ Man’s inhumanity to man.” The attempt to coerce the Irish produced the same effect as that to enforce conformity upon the Presbyterians of Scotland. The Scotch resisted the encroachment on their religious rights with the characteristic stubborness of their nation. “ On reading of the new liturgy in Edin¬ burgh, no sooner had the dean, arrayed in his surplice, opened the book, than a multitude, clapping their hands, and crying out, a pope! a pope! antichrist! stone him! raised such a tumult that it was impossible to proceed -with * Taylor, voL ii, p. 52. PERSECUTION OP CATHOLICS. 47 tlie service.”* Such arguments were not to be resisted. The Scotch at last prevailed, and obtained freedom to enjoy their Presbyterianism in peace. The struggle of the Irish, if less violent and less successful, was not less honorable. It was the cause of liberty in both cases. Covenanter and Catholic alike contended for freedom to worship God. And on the Irish moor, as in the Scottish glen, it was to the honor of a poor peasantry that they clung to their ancient faith, rather than receive passively a religion of which they knew nothing but that it was the author of their woes. That the Irish character has survived such persevering efforts to crush and brutalize it, is the most extraordinary fact in the history of that people. That they retain to this day such wit and humor, such gayety, and an attach¬ ment so affecting to their native land, is the most signal proof of the elasticity of their national character, and gives the best hope that they will yet rise above all their misfortunes, and secure the happiness and glory of their country. * Hume’a History of England. CHAPTER IV. The Struggle for Iaisn Independence Begins.—The American War.— Danger of a French Invasion.—Tiie Irish Volunteers organized.— Demand for Free Trade and an Independent Parliament.—Revolution of 1782. —Rejoicings of the People.—Grattan.—The French Revolu¬ tion breaks out. The first organized movement for liberty in Ireland was occasioned by the American Revolution. Our seven years’ war of independence was the beginning of modern revolutions. The wave of liberty, rolling from the west, soon began to break on the European shores. Its first dis¬ tant echo was heard in Ireland. When the news came that the colonies of Great Britain beyond the seas had broken out into open rebellion against the mother country, the people of the British islands were unanimous that it should be suppressed by force of arms. They had been accustomed to speak of their foreign pos¬ sessions as “ our colonies,” so that almost every man in the united kingdom felt as if the Americans were rebels against himself. Besides it was a matter easily accomplished. One vigorous blow would annihilate the young power that had begun to lift its head beyond the ocean, and to deal this was essential to the integrity and glory of the British em¬ pire. THE AMERICAN WAR. 49 Kemote from tlie scene of contest, Ireland at first felt no danger from tlie war which England was waging with her revolted colonies. But when France and Spain came forward to take part in the contest, that country was placed in imminent peril. The combined fleets were then superior to the naval force of England, and they rode through St. George’s Channel in triumph, and threatened a descent upon the Irish coast. Should they land, there was no force in Ireland to resist them. The troops had been called off to America, and there remained in the whole island not more than five thousand soldiers to repel an invasion, or to suppress domestic insurrection. The loyal inhabitants be¬ came alarmed. Only eighteen years before, Belfast had been invaded by the French. The inhabitants now peti¬ tioned the English government for troops to protect the city. The answer disclosed the weakness of England at that moment. The government declared that all the force they could spare was half a troop of dismounted horse, and half a company of invalids! Of course the French could enter Belfast without firing a gun. The people then deter¬ mined to arm themselves to protect their country. Thus began, in 1778, the organization of the Irish volunteers. The spirited town of Belfast took the lead, and other cities and counties soon followed. The government could not refuse them arms, and the organization spread rapidly until it numbered eighty thousand men, well armed, and supplied with near a hundred pieces of cannon. This was a force too formidable to be attacked, and no in¬ vasion was attempted. This was the first benefit of the C 50 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. American [Revolution to Ireland. It gave her a national army. Meanwhile the war was silently producing a vast moral effect. At first the resistance of America was looked upon as an audacious rebellion. Europe had not learned to re¬ spect her valor in the field, nor to appreciate the principles for which she fought. But as the war went on, the feel¬ ings of the Irish, and to some extent of the English people, changed from contempt to respect, and from respect to ad¬ miration. The long line of muskets which gleamed over the breastwork on Bunker’s Hill, and shot incessant flame, taught the British battalions that they had an enemy that was not to be despised. The darkest hour of the Revolu¬ tion ivas when the army of Washington fled through Hew Jersey, tracking the ground with blood, the foe in hot pur¬ suit. Yet even then their triumph was short. Crossing the Delaware in midwinter, amid floating ice, the rebel hero had surprised two detachments in their camps, fought and won Wo pitched battles, and recrossed with his pris¬ oners, before the main body of the royal troops could be brought up to the attack. A brave enemy could not re¬ fuse their admiration of these daring achievements, and tales of the rebel valor fonnd their way across the sea, and turned the current of European sympathy in favor of these brave defenders of their native land. The brilliant army of Burgoyne, as they marched out of their camp to lay down their arms, and cast a look towards the rude farmer soldiery that surrounded them, could not suppress a feeling of admiration for these men, who, though they had wives and children to make life THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 51 dear, had come out from their mountain homes at the call of their country, to peril life in the field of battle. Meanwhile the attention of Europe became more fixed on this colonial war. From being viewed as a rebellion, it began to be regarded as a rightful struggle for liberty, and to attract the sympathies of the friends of freedom through¬ out Europe. Enthusiastic soldiers of liberty crossed the seas to share the fortunes of the American arms. And when the batteries at Yorktown were silenced, there was many a heart which rejoiced even in the kingly courts of Europe. The French grenadiers, who saw the proud col¬ umns of Cornwallis file through their ranks as captives, caught the enthusiasm for liberty, which beat in every American bosom in that glad hour of triumph. And they carried back the principles of freedom to take root in the soil of France. At the same time the spell of English invincibility was sinking. From year to year the war went on. Campaign after campaign was begun and ended, and yet conquest seemed as distant as ever. No vanquished rebels sued for peace. No royal proclamation announced that the colo¬ nists were subdued, and their leaders brought to punishment. Thus it continued for eight years, till England had to ac¬ knowledge the unwelcome truth that she could not con¬ quer America, and to give up the attempt. The war operated in Ireland in other ways. It brought no glory, but it brought heavy taxes. Of the few articles of trade which remained to the Irish, the principal was linens. For these the American colonies had fur- 52 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. nislied the most profitable market. This trade the war at once destroyed. Besides, the English government had prohibited the exportation of corn, lest it should cir¬ cuitously reach the other side of the Atlantic. Thus the miseries of war were brought home to their own hearths. But the great effect was in the example of indepen¬ dence gained. America was free. “British supremacy had fallen there like a spent thunderbolt.”* In seven years she had gained her independence, while for six hundred years Ireland had groaned in bondage. Must this always be ? Were they doomed to remain forever a nation of slaves ? The Irish volunteers had secured them first object, safety from a foreign foe. By this they had learned their power. And now a greater object seemed within reach, to secure some degree of independence for themselves. They determined not to lay down their arms until the odious re¬ strictions on their trade should be abolished. Their com¬ merce should be no longer the hazard of war, nor sacri¬ ficed to the jealousy of English and Scotch merchants. They resolved that Ireland should enjoy that free trade for which she had vast natural facilities. ISTor would they lay down their arms, until they had obtained the right to make their own laws; until their parliament should be emancipated from the control of England. The spectacle was sublime. It was the first organized movement for liberty which Ireland had seen for many centuries. There had often been times of turbulence * Grattan. DEMAND FOR INDEPENDENCE. 53 and of popular violence. Tlie old history of Ireland is full of civil wars. The days of strife had been many. Old feuds had descended from sire to son, and often broken forth in deeds of vengeance. Many a chief had marshaled his clan. War-cries had echoed in the glens and down the vales. Corpses had been strewn on the mountain and the plain. But since that day when the Irish nation assembled on the memorable field of Clontarf, and, in a battle which raged from dawn till set of sun, broke forever the power of the Danes—the people had never appeared united until now. No violence was attempted. The movement was peaceful and firm. For the first time the people of Ireland stood together shoulder to shoulder, to effect a bloodless revolution. A cry arose for universal liberty. “I never will be satisfied,” said Grattan, “so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British chain clinging to his rags: he may be naked, but he shall not be in iron.” Before, the nation had appeared as dead. Everywhere reigned the stupor of despotism. But now, beneath this surface of death a great nation’s heart began to beat. England resisted as long as she dared. And Scotland, though she had suffered so much from England, joined in the oppression of Ireland. Glasgow petitioned with Liver¬ pool and Manchester against repealing the restrictions on Irish commerce. But eighty thousand men in arms were not to be trifled with. The columns of liberty were on the march for the capitol, and the English ministry gave way. The principal restrictions on Irish trade were 54 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. taken off, and thus was yielded to fear what had long been denied to justice. It was a great point carried. But a greater one still re¬ mained, to secure the legislative independence of Ireland. She had a parliament. She demanded that it should be free. Grattan moved in the Irish legislature, that “ no power on earth save the king, lords, and commons of Ireland had a right to make laws for Ireland.” The volunteers, as one man, affirmed the declaration. What might have been the result, had the American war been prolonged, it is impossible to say. But “ the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown,” says an Irish historian, “ lost America to Great Britain, but preserved Ireland.” Lord North was forced to resign; and a new ministry, of which Fox was a member, at the same time acknowl¬ edged the independence of America, and granted justice to Ireland. England renounced the right of control over the legislature of her sister island. That parliament was definitely acknowledged to be an independent body, as free to make laws for Ireland as the English parliament was to make laws for England. The same independence was conceded to the Irish courts. There was no longer an appeal from them to a higher English tribunal. This great concession, called by Burke “the Irish Rev¬ olution,” obtained in 1782 for Ireland, what the Revolu¬ tion of 1688 had secured for England. It was obtained by union and firmness, without the shedding of one drop of blood. This success showed what Ireland might have obtained at almost any period of her history by similar unanimity. POLITICAL ABUSES. 55 The enthusiasm which the attainment of legislative in¬ dependence excited in Ireland was unbounded. The na¬ tion breathed more freely. The laborer looked around on his hills with a prouder eye. The voice of the peasant was more cheerful in his cabin. His step was lighter on the heath. All classes were in transports at the idea that Ireland was once more a free nation. But the work was not ended. Great abuses still ex¬ isted in the internal constitution of the country. The chains which bound her were indeed struck off. But her limbs were paratyzed so that she could not walk. Her legislature was no longer a mere deputation of the English parliament; still it very imperfectly represented the Irish people. The mass had no political power. By the laws against the Catholics three fourths of the nation were dis¬ franchised. And the mode of representation was as bad as it could be. The same rotten borough system existed there which it cost such a struggle to suppress in England. Indeed a large majority of members of Parliament were nominees of boroughmongers. “ Two thirds of the Irish House of Commons,” said Grattan, “ are returned by less than one hundred persons. This is not even an aristoc¬ racy. It is an oligarchy.” Men who held office were also freely admitted to seats. Of 144 majority in one case, 104 were placemen and pensioners. Thus were afforded facilities for unlimited corruption. That bribery was em¬ ployed to carry the measures of government, was noto¬ rious. Peerages were sold, and the money applied to buy up the borough proprietors, and thus obtain seats in the House of Commons for the servants of the administration. 5G THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. This shameless corruption was charged upon members of Parliament to their face. They met the charge in a way which showed how low was their degradation. Instead of denying it, they turned it off by imputing the patriotic zeal of their accusers to disappointment that they had no share in the spoils. Sometimes they threatened to fight a duel, or to bring the accusing member to the bar of the House for contempt. Places and pensions were still held out as a continual bribe to members to sell their votes to the government. Thus the Parliament was but the tool of the viceroy, his body of Swiss guards, as obedient to the word of command as those who defend the Pope against his own subjects. It was one of the forms of lib¬ erty which are sometimes found so convenient to carry out the designs of despotism. The influence of England was omnipotent. The voice of poor Ireland could not be heard even in her own legislature. The nation was still governed against its will and against its interest. In short, the revolution had been, not in favor of the Irish people, but of a privileged order. Indeed the English ascendency had learned a more art¬ ful way to govern Ireland—by granting a legislature nom¬ inally independent, and ruling it by patronage. “ The king,” said Grattan, “had another instrument, more subtile, and more pliable, than the sword, and against the liberty of the subject more cold and deadly, a court instrument that murders freedom without the mark of blood, palls it¬ self in the covering of the constitution, and in her colors, and in her name, plants the dagger—a borough parlia¬ ment.” So wonderful did this discovery appear, that GRATTAN. 57 many, chuckling at its success in Ireland, expressed regret that it had not been tried in America; that the English ministry had not made concessions with a show of gene¬ rosity, granting to the colonists all the forms of liberty, and trusting to their royal commissions, and chest of guineas, still to rule them in accordance with their will. A great contest was ended. But a fiercer one was to begin. Hitherto the effort of Ireland had been to extort independence of her legislature from England. The war was now with the oligarchy at home. The nation had gained the shadow of liberty. It determined to have the reality. Now began the real struggle for liberty. For centuries Ireland had been ruled by a small faction. All the offices —all the votes, were controlled by a cabal of hoary-headed tyrants, long used to power, and trained in the arts by which it is kept—a party that knew whom to overawe with insolence—whom to conciliate with flattery, and whom to ! seduce with bribes;—a party determined in its ends, and unscrupulous in its means, and now mad with rage at the prospect of losing any portion of its unjust power. In this great struggle Grattan was the master-spirit. To him mainly was owing the Revolution of 1782. His ap¬ peals then had aroused the nation. Many times he was defeated. But as often he brought up the soldiers of lib¬ erty to the attack, and at last he was victorious. Once more the political elements were in agitation, and Grattan appeared as the guiding spirit of the storm. He was formed by nature to be a great parliamentary leader. No difficulties could repress his zeal, no dangers could 58 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. daunt him. lie was the Chatham of the Irish senate. Like that great orator, one glance of his lordly eye cowed the slaves of the court. His powerful voice reassured the timid patriot. He had to defy the haughtiness of those in power, and to combat the irresolution and cowardice of his own party. But he was equal to all emergencies. He was alike powerful in attack and in reply. His voice reverber¬ ated through the nation. “ There he was,” said Curran, “ exerting an eloquence more than human, inspiring, form¬ ing, directing, animating, to the great purposes of your sal¬ vation.” I do not know that the two men have ever been compared, but the figure of Grattan, standing on the floor of the House of Commons, with his short, thick-set person, in his body all compact, and in his style abrupt, Condensed, vehement, seems strikingly like that of his cotemporary Mirabeau, with his gnarled and knotted frame, and his shaggy head, rolling from the French tribune those thun¬ ders which shook the continent. Great crises produce great men. The criterion of a good citizen, according to Demosthenes, is to grow with the growth, and to decay with the decline of our country. By this rule we judge that Ireland was now bursting into a new life, for never, in all her history, was there such an array of genius gathered in her capital. And in those days of degeneracy, in a time of defection, when many were ready to sell their country, it is delightful to find so much of what was noblest still arrayed on the side of poor, op¬ pressed Ireland. But the wave of revolution never rolls back. And THE REFORM OF PARLIAMENT. 59 now that legislative independence was obtained, those who carried it determined to make it available for the good of the nation. The volunteers came forward in a body, and demanded a reform in the representation of the country. A convention of delegates—constituting a military con¬ gress—assembled in Dublin, to urge their demands in a tone of authority. They demanded that rotten bor¬ oughs should be abolished, and that men holding offices under government, or receiving pensions, should not be allowed at the same time to sit in parliament. While this congress was sitting, the great Harry Flood, the rival of Grattan in eloquence and fame, but his co-laborer in this work of reform, appeared in the House of Commons, dressed in the volunteer uniform, and surrounded by other members in the same military array, some of whom were delegates, and brought forward a motion for the reform of parliament. The house was thrown into a tempest. Threats were heard in the hall, answered by shouts of defiance. An eye-witness describes the scene as “ almost terrific.” But the motion was finally voted down. They had not yet learned the power of popular enthusiasm inflamed with the idea of liberty. The spirit of the people had been excited by their re¬ cent victory. The demand for redress grew louder. The resistance of the government was artful and persevering. Session after session they succeeded in evading the popular demands, when suddenly the French Revolution broke forth, and convulsed all Europe. The American Revolu¬ tion had lighted the spark of liberty in Ireland, and now the French Revolution blew it into a flame. CO THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Ilacl England at this time been governed by wise coun¬ sels ; had her statesmen recognized the new spirit of lib¬ erty which was abroad in the earth, and yielded to it by timely and just reforms, she would have bound Ireland to herself by the strongest ties of affection and interest; she would have had a faithful nation join its destiny with hers, which would have made the United Kingdom invincible against Europe combined. But, instead of this, they op¬ posed every measure of relief. And when any refonn was extorted from them, it was yielded slowly, reluctantly, and with such a bad will, that it lost all the grace of conces¬ sion. So far from affording redress, they adopted coercive measures to silence the complaints of the people, the method most calculated to exasperate, and to provoke open resistance. They did not at all consider the current of the age, nor the temper of the Irish nation. Hatred of France, hatred of popery, and the obstinate bigotry of George III., rendered them deaf to all measures of conciliation. An instance of more blind misgovernment the world has never seen. The consequence was that, plunging into a war with half Europe, she had, at the same moment, to guard against insurrection at home. With one arm stretched out to offer battle to the continent, she had to reach back the other to hold down prostrate Ireland. What woes this policy brought upon that unhappy country we shall now see. Henceforth, her way lies through blood and tears. CHAPTER, V. Curran.— His Boyhood.—College Life.— Is Destined for toe Church.— Studies Law.— His Conversation.—Wit, Humor and Pathos.—Consti¬ tutional Melancholy.—His Eloquence.—Defends a Catholic Priest.— The State Trials.—Love of Ireland. ( The next year after the exertions of Grattan had se¬ cured the independence of the Irish legislature, and just as the great question of reform began to loom up in the po¬ litical horizon, there entered parliament another man, whose name is imperishably connected with the history of Ireland, John Philpot Curran. Of a slight and ungainly figure, there was nothing about him to overawe a legisla¬ tive assembly. Grattan was the colossus of debate. Cur¬ ran, like a skillful gladiator, played round the arena, and sometimes thrusting himself into the lists in the lighter armor of his wit, carried off the victory where his giant ally would have been less successful. But in truth this was not his proper theater. He came into the Parliament- house in the evening, after having been all day in court. He was then jaded in body and mind, and chose rather to listen than to speak. As Grattan was most at home in parliament, Curran was most in his element at the bar. It was in the Four Courts that he rose above all other men; 62 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. that he won the reputation of being the most eloquent ad¬ vocate that Ireland had ever produced. But it is on other accounts that Curran deserves a more minute sketch in this history. He represents, perhaps more than any of his celebrated countrymen, the Irish character—a nature compounded of imagination and sensi¬ bility. Though of less kingly intellect than Grattan, he was of a warmer temperament, and more fitted to be a popular idol. Curran sprang from the people. He was born at New¬ market, an obscure town in the county of Cork, in 1750—• being thus four years younger than Grattan. On the father’s side he was descended from one of Cromwell’s sol¬ diers. Passing his childhood in the country, he was thrown much among the people. He loved to recall the days when he played marbles in the street of Newmarket, or assumed the part of Punch’s man at a country fair. He loved to visit the peasantry in their cabins, and to listen to their tales. There he saw the Irish character—its wit, its humor, its sensibility to mirth and tears. There too, in those rough natures, which appear so sullen and savage when brought face to face with their oppressors, he found the finest and tenderest affections of the human heart. There too he found a natural poetry and eloquence. He was a constant attendant at the weddings and wakes of his neighborhood. It was customary at that time to employ hired mourners for the dead, and their wild and solemn lamentations struck his youthful imagination. In after-years, he acknowledged that his first ideas of eloquence were derived from listen¬ ing to the laments of mourners at the Irish burials. DESTINED TO THE CHURCE 63 When transferred to Trinity College in Dublin, he be¬ came distinguished chiefly for his social powers. Full of the exuberant life of youth, overflowing with spirits, and fond of fun and frolic, he was always a welcome compan¬ ion among the students. Ilis mother had destined him for the church. When he came out of College, his tastes took another turn. But his mother never got over her disappointment at his not being a preacher. Not even his brilliant reputation at the bar and in parliament, could satisfy her maternal heart. She lived to see the nation hanging on the lips of this al¬ most inspired orator. Yet even then she would lament over him, “ 0 Jacky, Jacky, what a preacher was lost in you !” Her friends reminded her that she had lived to see her son one of the judges of the land. “ Don’t speak to me of judges ,” she would reply, “John was fit for any thing; and had he but followed our advice, it might here¬ after be written upon my tomb that I had died the mother of a bishop. But no one as yet knew that he had extraordinary talent for eloquence. Indeed he did not suspect it him¬ self. In his boyhood he had a confusion in his utterance, from which he was called by his school-fellows “stuttering Jack Curran.” It was not until many years after, while studying law at the Temple, that he found out that he could speak. After his fame was established, a friend dining with him one day, could not repress his admiration of Curran’s eloquence, and remarked that it must have been born with him. “Indeed, my dear sir,” replied 64 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Curran, “ it was not, it was born twenty-three years and some months after me.” But when he had made the im¬ portant discovery of this concealed power, he employed every means to render his elocution perfect. He accus¬ tomed himself to speak very slowly to correct his precipi¬ tate utterance. He practiced before a glass to make his gestures graceful. He spoke aloud the most celebrated orations. One piece he was never weary of repeating, the speech of Antony over the body of Caesar. This he re¬ commended to his young friends at the bar as a model of eloquence. And yet while he thus used art to smooth a channel for his thoughts to flow in, no man’s eloquence ever issued more freshly and spontaneously from the heart. It was al¬ ways the heart of the man that spoke. It was because his own emotions were so intense, that he possessed such power over the feelings of others. His natural sympathies were strong. Like every truly great man, he was simple as a child. He had all those tastes which mark a genuine man. He loved nature. He loved children. He sympathized with the poor. It was perhaps from these popular sympathies that he preferred Rousseau among the French writers, and that his friend¬ ship was so strong with Mr. Godwin. His nature was all sensibility. He was most keenly alive to gay, or to mournful scenes. He had a boyish love of fun and frolic. He entered into sports with infi¬ nite glee. In these things he remained a child to the end of his days; while in sensibility to tears he had the heart POWERS OF CONVERSATION. G5 of a woman. Thus to the last hour of life he kept his affections fresh and flowing. He had the delicate organization of genius. His frame vibrated to music like an Eolian harp. He had the most exquisite relish for the beauties of poetry. He was extrav¬ agantly fond of works of imagination. He devoured romances. And when in his reading he met with a passage which gratified his taste, he was never weary of repeating it to himself, or reading it to the friends who came to see him. In conversation, perhaps the most prominent faculty of his mind was fancy,—sportive, playful, tender, and pathetic. His conversation was a stream which never ceased to flow. His brilliant imagination, and the warmth with which he entered into every thing, gave it a peculiar fascination. Byron said that Curran had spoken more poetry than any man had ever written. In a circle of genial friends, after dinner, his genius was in its finest action. His countenance lighted up, and his conversation, beginning to flow, now sparkled, now ran like wine. Flashes of wit played round him. Mirth gleamed from his eye and shot from his tongue. He had an endless 'store of anecdote, to which his extraordinary dramatic talent enabled him to give the happiest effect. He told stories, and hitting off the points of Irish character by the most exquisite mimicry, he “set the table on a roar,” following perhaps with some touching tale which instantly brought tears into every eye. “You wept,” says Phillips, “ and you laughed, and you wondered; and the wonderful creature, who made you do all at will, never let it appear 66 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. i that he was more than jour equal, and was quite willing, if you chose, to become your auditor.” The wit of Curran was spontaneous. It was the creation of the moment, the electric sparks shot from a mind overcharged with imagery and feeling. In this it differed from the wit of another great Irishman. Sheridan had more of the actor about him. His brilliant sayings were prepared beforehand. He aimed at display in the receptions at Holland House as much as when writing a comedy for Drury Lane. Perhaps no foreigner, who has visited England, has had a better opportunity of seeing its distinguished men, than Madame De Stael. She was constantly surrounded by the most brilliant society of London. Yet even in that blaze of genius, she was most struck, as she often told her friends, with the conversational powers of Curran. This too, was in 1813, when his health had sunk, and his spirits were so depressed, as to make it an effort to support his part at all in society. From the vivacity of his conversation, one would hardly have suspected the depth and seriousness of his character. In talking with ladies or with young persons, his mind was remarkable for its constant playfulness. A gleam of sunshine illumined his whole being. Yet those who knew him intimately were aware that he was subject all his life to constitutional melancholy. Like many other men celebrated for their wit, his gayety alternated with deep depression. The truth was that he sympathized too intensely with the scenes of real life, to be uniformly gay. In his country he saw so much to sadden him, that his CHARACTER OF HIS ELOQUENCE. 67 feelings took a melancholy tone. The transition was often instantaneous from humor to pathos. His friends, who saw him in his lighter moods, were surprised at the sudden change of his countenance. “ In grave conversation, his voice was remarkable for a certain plaintive sincerity of tone, ”—a sadness which fascinated the listener like mo urn- fid music. In his eloquence appeared the same transitions of feeling and variety of talent. He could descend to the dryest details of law or evidence. Thomas Addis Emmet, who, though younger, practiced at the same bar, says that Curran possessed a logical head. From this he could rise to the highest flights of imagination, and it was here, and in appeals to the feelings, that he was most at home. Sometimes his wit ran away with him. His fancy was let off like a display of fireworks. It flew like a thousand rockets, darting, whizzing, buzzing, lighting up the sky with fantastic shapes. By turns he could use the lightest or the heaviest weapon, as suited the object of his attack. Where ethereal wit or playful irony were likely to be thrown away upon some gross and insensible subject, he could : point the keenest edge of ridicule, or the coarsest invective, or the most withering sarcasm. When dissecting the character of a perjured witness, he seemed to delight in making him feel the knife. His > victim, at such a time, appeared like an insect whom he had lanced with a needle, and was holding up to the laughter and scorn of the world. Thus, when treating the evidence of O'Brien, a hired informer, who had come on GS THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. the stand to swear away the lives of men whom the government had determined to sacrifice, Curran apostro¬ phized the patriotic individual, “ Dearest, sweetest, Mr. James O’Brien,” exposing the utter rottenness of his character in a tone of irony, until the man, who had a forehead of brass, was forced to slink back into the crowd, and to escape from the court. So in his place in parliament, when exposing the cor¬ ruption of the officers of government, he did not spare nor have pity. A swarm of blood-suckers had fastened on the state, who were growing fat from draining the life of their unhappy country. Curran proclaimed the im¬ maculate virtue of “those saints on the pension list, that are like lilies of the field,—they toil not, neither do they spin, but they are arrayed like Solomon in his glory.” The extent to which this corruption had gone was in¬ credible. “This polyglot of wealth,” said Curran, “this museum of curiosities, the pension list, embraces every link in the human chain, every description of men, women, and children, from the exalted excellence of a Hawke or a Bodney, to the debased situation of the lady who humbleth herself that she may be exalted.” The road to advancement at that day in Ireland, to the peer¬ age, to the judicial bench, was to betray the country. Curran branded those who thus came into power by one of the strongest figures in English eloquence. “Those foundlings of fortune, overwhelmed in the torrent of cor¬ ruption at an early period, lay at the bottom like drowned bodies, while soundness or sanity remained in them; but at length becoming buoyant by putrefaction, they rose aE HIS PATHOS. 69 they rotted, and floated to the surface of the polluted stream, where they were drifted along, the objects of terror, and contagion, and abomination.” At the bar he often indulged in sallies of wit, and thus conciliated the attention of the court. His delicate satire, his comical turns of thought, convulsed the court with laughter. Then suddenly he stopped, his lip quivered, his sentences grew slow and measured, and he poured forth strains of the deepest pathos, as he pictured the wrongs of his country, or lamented the companions of other days, the illustrious departed, “ over whose ashes the most pre¬ cious tears of Ireland had been shed.” His voice excelled in the utterance of plaintive emotions, and the homage which had been paid to his eloquence by mirth, was now paid in the sound of suppressed weeping, which alone broke the deathlike stillness of the room. In pleading for one on trial for his life, his voice subsided toward the close, and sunk away in tones of solemnity and supplication. Thus would he say, “ Sweet is the recollection of having done justice in that hour when the hand of death presses on the human heart! Sweet is the hope which it gives birth to! From you I demand that justice for my client, your innocent and unfortunate fellow-subject at the bar; and may you have it for a more lasting reward than the perishable crown we read of, which the ancients placed on the brow of him who saved in battle the life of a fellow- citizen !” But the trait which appears most conspicuous in the public efforts of Curran, and which made him the idol of his countrymen, was his enthusiastic love of Ireland. Says 10 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. his biographer, “ Ireland was the choice of his youth, and was from first to last regarded by him, not so much with the feelings of a patriot, as with the romantic idolatry of a lover.” In early life he had learned to love the Irish peasantry, and no lapse of time could chill his affection. No temptation of office could seduce him from the side of the poor and the oppressed. He knew their noble quali¬ ties, and his bosom burned at the wrongs which they suf¬ fered. One of his first causes at the bar was pleading for a Catholic priest who had been brutally assaulted by a noble¬ man. Such was the fear of incurring the displeasure of a lord, that no one dared to undertake the prosecution, until Curran stepped forward, then a young lawyer. His effort was successful. Not long after the priest was called away from the world. He sent for Curran to his bedside. Hold and silver he had none. But he gave him all in his power, the benediction of a dying man. He caused himself to be raised up in his bed, and stretching out his trembling- hands to place them upon the head of his defender, in¬ voked for him the blessing of the Almighty. Such scenes as this, while they excited the enthusiasm of the Catholic population throughout Ireland for the young advocate, who had dared to defend a priest of their proscribed re¬ ligion, at the same time strengthened his determination to make common cause with his countrymen in their suffer¬ ings. E As the most important cases in which it was his fortune to be engaged at the bar were political trials, he had con- * stant occasion to refer to the state of his country. The LOVE OF HIS COUNTRY. 71 theme seemed to kindle in laim a new eloquence of indig¬ nation. Often in the midst of a plea at the bar, lie fixed his glittering eye on the court, and poured forth a most vehement appeal for liberty and for Ireland. Thus, in his celebrated defense of Hamilton Eowan, he invokes the spirit of English liberty in a passage which has become one of the commonplaces of literature: “I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil; which proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of universal eman¬ cipation. Ho matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced—no matter what complexion, incompati¬ ble with freedom, an Inchan or an African sun may have burnt upon him—no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down—no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery; the moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains, which burst from around him, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of universal emancipation.” ; At this passage the decorum of the court gave way to a burst of irrepressible enthusiasm; the house rang with tu¬ multuous applause, and it was some time before order was 50 far restored, that Mr. Curran was enabled to proceed. A.t the conclusion of the speech the same tumult again ourst forth, and at his leaving the court, the populace were 72 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. so wild witli joy, that they took the horses from his car¬ riage, and themselves drew him home in triumph.* It is melancholy to reflect that efforts so great for the liberty and happiness of Ireland, were not crowned with complete success. But the patriotism and the courage were not less noble because overborne by superior power. It is the honor of Curran that he loved Ireland in her woe, and loved her to the last. Toward the close of life he said, “ To our unhappy country, what I had, I gave. I i might have often sold her. I could not redeem her. J III gave her the best sympathies of my heart, sometimes in tears, sometimes in indignation, sometimes in hope, but oftener in despondence.” The history of Ireland, sad as it is, is bright with many instances of such patriotic affection. We shall have con¬ stant occasion to observe them in the history of the strug¬ gle which we are now to trace, f * It may gratify the friends of the late Mr. Sampson, to know that he sat beside Curran through the whole of that memorable defense, and that to his rapid pen we owe the report of this, the best preserved of all Curran’s speeches. When he had finished, he bent over Sampson, who was writing down the conclusion, and asked him if he was satisfied with him. Sampsor assented, but added, “ You might have said something of Russell and Sidney.’ Curran instantly rose, and reminded the court that they were acting, not foi the present alone, but that their conduct would live in history, and concludei j by comparing the feelings with which posterity would review the transac tions of that day, to the emotions which overflowed in their hearts, at read ing the sad history of the sufferings of a Russell or a Sidney. \ Those who would know more of this most remarkable man, I must re fer to the admirable memoir, by his son—and also to “ Recollections of Cur 1 ran,” by Charles Phillips, which Lord Brougham commends as “ the mos lively and picturesque piece of biography ever given to the world.” See his Sketches of British Statesmen of tbeTime of George IH. CHAPTER VI. Theobald Wolfe Tone.— His Early Life.—Marriage.—Studies Law.— Project of a Military Expedition to the South Seas.—Settles in Dublin.—Friendship with Emmet and Russell. A different character comes on the stage. "We have seen the orator defending his countrymen at the bar and in the senate. We are now to trace the steps by which a political reformer becomes a revolutionist. We are to see an organizer of parties and of peaceful reforms turning into a conspirator and a soldier—an organizer of armies and invasions. We derogate nothing from the many prominent men of this period, in assigning the first place in the designs of revolution to Theobald Wolfe Tone, the founder of the United Irishmen, and the chief agent in ne¬ gotiating the subsequent French invasions. This extraordinary man was born in Dublin, June 20, 1763. From childhood he seemed destined for a life of adventure. Though of an active mind, he hated books. He was fond of sports, walking to the country, swimming in the sea; and especially of that which is the delight of every idle boy—military parades. The garrison of Dublin was often reviewed in Phcenix Park, and the sight of their brilliant uniforms, their swords and plumes, with their D 74 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. quick evolutions, ancl the inspiring sound of martial music, awoke kis ambition to be a soldier—a desire which pur¬ sued him through- years, and which he Avas at length able to gratify. When forced to apply himself to study, the natural quickness of his mind caused him to make rapid progress. At the age of seventeen he entered the University of Dublin, where he distinguished himself particularly as a writer and speaker. “ At length, about the beginning of the year 1785,”—■ to quote from his autobiography—“I became acquainted with my wife. She Avas the daughter of William Wither- ington, and lived at that time in Grafton-street, in the house of her grandfather, a rich old clergyman of the name of Fanning. I Avas then a scholar of the house in the University; and every day, after commons, I used to Avalk under her windows with one or the other of my felloAV- students. I soon greAV passionately fond of her, and she also was struck Avith me, though certainly my appearance, neither then nor noAV, Avas much in my favor; so it Avas, however, that before Ave had ever spoken to each other, a mutual affection had commenced between us. She Avas at this time not sixteen years of age, and as beautiful as an angel. She had a brother some years older than herself; and as it was necessary for my admission to the family, that I should be first acquainted Avitk him, I soon con¬ trived to be introduced to him; and as he played well on the violin, and I Avas myself a musical man, we grew inti¬ mate, the more so, as it may well be supposed I neglected no fair means to recommend myself to him and the rest of PROJECTS AN EXPEDITION. 75 tlie family, with whom I soon grew a favorite. My affairs now advanced prosperously; my wife and I grew more passionately fond of each other; and in a short time I pro¬ posed to her to marry me, without asking consent of any one, knowing well it would be in vain to expect it. She accepted the proposal as frankly as I made it, and one beautiful morning in the month of July we ran off to¬ gether and were married. I carried her out of town to Maynooth for a few days, and when the first eclat of passion had subsided, we were forgiven on all sides, and settled in lodgings near my wife’s grandfather. I was now for a short time as happy as possible, in the possession of a beautiful creature that I adored, and who every hour grew more and more upon my heart.” But he had soon to break away from his young wife to go to pursue his studies at the Temple in London. A year later his brother returned from a voyage to St. Helena, and joined him. The story of his wanderings upon the stormy deep fired the adventurous spirit of Tone. He conceived a project of planting a military colony in the Sandwich Islands. - He studied the position of these islands on the map, midway between Asia and America. He considered their latitude,in the temperate zone ; their mild climate and clear sky, their harbors for shipping, their mountains and inland valleys, their soil and fruits. His imagination reveled in dreams of green and flowery islands, in far-off summer seas; of lying under the cocoa palms, and having the ready food from the bread-fruit trees, dropping around their tents. But with these tropi¬ cal visions he coupled the military spirit of Cortez. In 76 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. maturing his plan, he read every hook he could find relat¬ ing to South America, the voyages of Ulloa, Anson, Dam- pierre and others, and especially the tales of the daring buccaniers, who had been the terror of those seas. The Sandwich Islands lay in the track of the Spanish galleons from the Philippine Islands to the western coast of America. These he proposed to intercept by sending out privateers. But the main design was to assail the Spanish possessions in South America. He dreamed of another conquest of Peru—of marching in the steps of Pizarro to the throne of the Incas. Subsequently he extended his views farther to an invasion of Mexico. He had learned the internal state of New Spain; that the people were sub¬ jected to a cruel slavery, and were desirous of a revolu¬ tion. To aid them to throw off their yoke would cripple the power of Spain, and turn the treasures of her silver mines into England. He therefore proposed these schemes to the English government as war measures. Several years later he had some correspondence on this subject with Lord Grenville and the Duke of Richmond. But. the government was too much engrossed with troubles nearer home, and Tone was left to organize revolutions in his own country instead of planting colonies in the South Seas. Upon his return from London, he commenced the practice of law in Dublin. In this, he continued but a year. He had an insuperable aversion to the law; and the political questions which now agitated Ireland, and the breaking out of the French Revolution, gave a new turn to his thoughts, and opened a career more congenial to his ardent mind. FRIENDSHIP WITH EMMET AND RUSSELL. 11 It was at this period that his life was most happy. To great talents, Tone united a flow of spirits, a gayety of heart truly Irish. He was restored to a wife to whom he never ceased to be a lover. He had formed an ac¬ quaintance with Thomas Addis Emmet, and with Russell, whom he ever after regarded as his dearest friends. They agreed in their tastes and in their political opinions. The friendship of these young patriots bordered on romance. They were ready to die for each other, or for their country, which they loved as a mother. As we are admitted to their councils, we are transported back to the league of the three Swiss confederates on the field of Grutli. Tone had rented a cottage by the sea-shore, where he passed the summer of 1790, and here Russell, who was a bachelor, almost daily dined and deliberated with him. “Russell and I were inseparable—I recall with trans¬ port the happy days we spent together during that period; the delicious dinners, in the preparation of which my wife, Russell, and myself, were all engaged; the afternoon walks, the discussions we had, as we lay stretched on the grass. It was delightful! Sometimes Russell’s venerable father, a veteran of near seventy, with the courage of a hero, the serenity of a philosopher, and the piety of a saint, used to visit our little mansion, and that day was a ■fete. My wife doated on the old man, and he loved her 'like one of his children. Russell’s brother, John, too, used to visit us; a man of a most warm and affectionate heart, and incontestably of the most companionable talents I ever met. His humor, which was pure and natural, flowed in an inexhaustible stream. He had not the strength of ^8 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. character of my friend Tom, but for the charms of conver¬ sation, he excelled him, and all the world. Sometimes, too, my brother William used to join us for a Aveek. When the two Bussells, my brother and I, were assembled, it is impossible to conceive of a happier society. I know not whether our wit Avas classical or not, nor does it signify. If it Avas not sterling, at least it passed current among ourselves. If I may judge, Ave were none of us destitute of the humor indigenous in the soil of Ireland. Those were delicious days. The rich and great, Avho sit doAvn every day to the monotony of a splendid entertain¬ ment, can form no idea of the happiness of our frugal meal, nor of the infinite pleasure we found in taking each his part in the preparation and attendance. My wife was the center and the soul of all. I scarcely know which of us loved her best; her courteous manners, her goodness I of heart, her incomparable humor, her never-failing cheer¬ fulness, her affection for me and for our children, rendered her the object of our common admiration and delight. She loved Bussell as well as I did. In short, a more interesting society of individuals, connected by purer motives, and animated by a more ardent attachment and friendship for each other, can not be imagined.” CHAPTER VII. Tone Enters into Poi.itics.—Division of Parties in Ireland.— He En¬ deavors to Unite the Dissenters and Catholics—Founds the Society of United Irishmen.—I s appointed Secretary to the Catholic Com¬ mittee.— His Efforts in their Cause. Political excitement was now agitating the whole island. It was hardly ten years since the American Revolution, the morning gun of liberty, had reverberated through Europe, like a heavy explosion rumbling among the Alps, jarring the mountains and shaking down the avalanche. Now the French Revolution was in full progress, “ With fear of change perplexing monarch?.” The sentiments of the English people were much divided as to the probable result. Burke had published his powerful invective against the French Revolution, lamenting “ that the age of chivalry was gone, and that the glory of Europe was extinguished forever.” Paine had replied with the Rights of Man. The controversy divided the nation. Political clubs sprang into existence in all parts of the kingdom. Societies looking toward revolu. tion, and holding correspondence with France, were estab- 80 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. listed in England and Scotland, as well as in Ireland. But in the latter country, especially, the Revolution was hailed with enthusiastic joy. The people of Belfast cele¬ brated the taking of the Bastille with a grand military parade, and voted an address of congratulation to the Erench people. As might be expected, these rejoicings at the liberation of another people were not unaccompanied with reflections on their own degraded condition, and the address of congratulation to the French was followed by a demand for Irish liberty. These manifestations of popular sympathy were sometimes marked by significant tokens of the way men’s thoughts were tending. Thus, at a public dinner at Belfast were displayed around the hall four flags, America, France, Poland, Ireland ,—but no England. Tone plunged boldly into the popular movement. His first step was to write a political pamphlet, in which he thus urged the people of Ireland to the work of reform,—• “You have no foreign enemies to encounter, look then at home. Now is .your time for reformation; if it elapse unprofitably, which of us can promise himself that he will survive till the next era?” This pamphlet gained him some reputation, and the whigs wished to attach him to their interests, and proposed to make him a member of Parliament. But his views were rapidly outrunning those of any party. Even thus early he had misgivings as to the possibility of accom¬ plishing any thing for his country, so long as the influence of England remained so powerful in the Irish government. “ My mind had now got a turn for politics. I thought I had at last found my element, and I plunged into it with DIVISION OF PARTIES. 81 eagerness.” He studied more attentively tlie political state of his country. “ I made speedily what was to me a great discovery, though I might have found it in Swift and Molyneux, that the influence of England was the radical vice of our government; and, consequently, that Ireland would never be either free, prosperous, or happy, until she was independent, and that independence was unattainable while the connection with England existed. I now began to look on the little politics of the Whig Club with great contempt; their peddling about petty grievances, instead of going to the root of the evil.” Tone did not scruple to avow his new opinions in a pamphlet which he published soon after on the question, “How far Ireland was bound to support England in the approaching contest with Spain.” In this he took ground that Ireland was not bound by a declaration of war; that she had in it no interest whatever; and that she might and ought, as an independent nation, to stipulate for a neutrality. In this he spoke without reserve of the possi¬ bility of entire separation. Still, though such were his private views, he did not break with those political associates who sought only a re¬ form of the government. He joined cordially in their ef¬ forts, resolved to leave no means of peaceable redress un¬ tied before resorting to the experiment, at all times so earful, of revolution. He therefore began to look about him, to see what lhance there was of a thorough reform in the government ff his country. He reviewed carefully the strength of the Efferent parties into which Ireland was divided. 82 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. They were three: first, the English or Established Church Party, which, though but a small fraction of the na¬ tion, held all the power and patronage of the government. Ever since the revolution of 1688, this party had been in quiet possession of the church, the law, the revenue, the army, the navy, the magistracy, and the corporations of the cities. They, too, held five sixths of the landed property of the kingdom, estates which they had acquired by confisca¬ tion. Both their political power and their property they held only by English rule being maintained in the land. It was only in a close connection with that,they saw security, for themselves. As the price of protection, they in turn were willing to give up all foreign commerce. It was a matter of bargain and sale. The protestant ascendency agreed to refrain from commercial rivalship with England, on condition that they should be upheld in their usurpa¬ tion over the poor natives of Ireland. It mattered not to them that the country at large was impoverished, so long as they were made rich. Both Ireland and India are proofs that immense fortunes may be drained from a country, where the natives are kept in the most abject poverty. Of course this party, being in power, desired no reform. Next to the Established Church, were the Dissenters. This party was twice as numerous as the former, and com¬ prised far more public spirit. The Presbyterians of Ulster had composed the flower of the volunteers in 1782. From the genius of their religion, and their superior political in¬ formation, many of them were sincere and enlightened re¬ publicans. The third party was the Catholics, which constituted DIVISION OF PARTIES. 83 two thirds of the nation. They, of course, desired reform, but their spirits had been broken by long oppression, and they could not at once act with much concert or effect. The peasantry had been reduced to the level of brutes. The few remaining gentry had no longer confidence to at¬ tempt any thing. “ It was only in a class of their mer¬ chants and traders, and a few members of the medical pro¬ fession, who had smuggled an education, despite of the penal code, that any thing like political sensation existed.” On this division of parties Tone made his calculation. The government party he despaired of from the outset. The Catholics, on the other hand, he counted upon with certainty. No change could make their situation worse. The Dissenters generally desired a reform, but they limited their demand to obtaining rights for themselves. Their object was a reform of parliament; that of the Catholics naturally their own emancipation. The efforts of both had been paralyzed by their jealousy of each other. In this mutual jealousy lay the strength of England. If united, Ireland could be independent, or remain connected with England as an equal. It was, therefore, the interest of England to foment division, to increase religious feuds, and the hereditary animosity of races. Tone saw that the only way to carry either reform or ■ Catholic emancipation, was to unite these measures, and to bring up the nation in an unbroken column to the doors of parliament. The dissensions of the Irish had always given their enemies the advantage. If the English as¬ cendency were allowed to play off the religious jealousies of one party against the other, the old game would be fol- 84 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. lowed with the old result. Unless the people were united, there was no deliverance for Ireland. As a Protestant himself, Tone could speak without reserve to the Protestants of Ireland. He accordingly ad¬ dressed himself directly to the Dissenters, in a pamphlet in favor of the Catholics. He showed them that to he free, they must he just; that to obtain their own rights, they must concede to others their rights. “ The almighty Source of wisdom and of goodness has inseparably connected lib¬ erty and justice.” They must join to put an end to that inhuman code which denied all political existence to three fourths of the nation. He adjured his countrymen to bury their religious hatreds, and to unite for the liberation of their common country. This was a great advance on the political principles of the most liberal party. Grattan had indeed boldly pleaded the cause of his proscribed countrymen.* But he stood al¬ most alone. His own party would not follow him. Even the whigs did not dare to hazard their popularity by touch¬ ing the question of Catholic emancipation. The Whig Club excluded it from among their subjects of discussion. The Established Church shrank from it with sanctimonious horror. The only body which had been touched at all with a feeling of humanity toward their Catholic fellow-citizens, was the Irish volunteers. As early as 1783, the people of * “Grattan entered parliament an opponent of the Catholic claims. He told the late Dr. Hussey, his most intimate friend, that he owed his change of opinion to the accidental perusal of Currie’s Civil Wars.” Lives of United Irishmen. First series, yol. i. p. 78. FOUNDS THE “UNITED IRISHMEN.” 85 Belfast, always in advance of their countrymen in princi¬ ples of liberty, bad petitioned for Catholic emancipation. And when that year the military congress sat in Dublin, a distinguished Catholic divine, on entering the hall, was re¬ ceived by the volunteers with a full salute of rested arms. Still as an earthquake rived the mountains asunder, an earthquake was needed to bring them together. It was not until the French Revolution shook the foundations of every state in Europe, that the Catholics and Protestants of Ireland approached to a solid and durable union. The exertions of Tone to unite the Catholics and Dis¬ senters, led to the organization of the United Irishmen. Of this memorable society, Tone was the founder. In October, 1791, he was invited up to Belfast, to consult with other leaders of the liberal party. He there pro¬ posed to them to drop the invidious distinction of Cath¬ olic and Protestant, and to take the national denomination of United Irishmen. They formed a political club. He wrote their declaration of principles. In this he states the great grievance of Ireland: “ We have no national gov¬ ernment. We are ruled by Englishmen, and the servants of Englishmen, whose sole object is the interest of another country.” In an essay the year before he had described the state of Ireland up to 1778. “ Our benches were filled with English lawyers; our bishoprics with English divines; our custom-house with English commissioners; all offices of state filled three deep, with Englishmen in possession, Englishmen in reversion, and Englishmen in expectancy.” Each member, on joining the society, took the following pledge: “In the awful presence of God, I declare that I 86 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. ■will, so far as in me lies, endeavor to promote a brother¬ hood of affection and union among Irishmen of every re¬ ligious persuasion, and that I will persevere in my endeav¬ ors to procure a full, equal and adequate representation of all the people of Ireland in parliament.” Several years after¬ ward, when all hopes of peaceable redress had failed, and the United Irishmen were forced to think of revolution, the last two words were omitted. But at the beginning their efforts were honestly confined to two objects, reform in parliament, and Catholic emancipation. The people of Belfast, who were most inclined to republicanism, declared that they would consider a government by king, lords and commons, fairly administered, as sufficient for their happi¬ ness. That the society was not at first revolutionary in its designs, is evident from the fact that it embraced many wealthy landed proprietors and rich merchants, who had nothing to gain by violent changes, but every thing to lose. It was only when all hope of constitutional redress failed, that they carried their designs farther. And even to the last moment—to the breaking out of the rebellion of 1798, the great body would have been satisfied by these just con¬ cessions. It is not an uncommon impression that the United Irishmen were mainly Catholics, and animated by a hostil¬ ity to the Protestants. So far is this from being the fact, that the strength of the society lay in the northern Protes¬ tant population. Even at a later period, when the design of separation from England was entertained, its warmest sup¬ porters were among the Presbyterians of Ulster. These were generally republicans from principle. Descended I FOUNDS THE “UNITED IRISHMEN.’ 87 from the old Puritans and Covenanters, they retained much of the stern republicanism of their ancestors. The religion of the Catholics, on the other hand, led them to extreme reverence for authority, and thus naturally to monarchcial principles. “ Their proud and old gentry, and their clergy, inclined even rather to feudal and chivalrous, and to tory principles than to those of democracy.” They were made republicans only by long oppression. As the founder of the United Irishmen was a Protestant, so were a majority of the directory. Of twenty state-prisoners subsequently confined in Fort George only four were Catholics. The greater part belonged to the Established Church. The organization of the United Irishmen was the com¬ mencement of a new era in Ireland. It brought together as friends, two bodies that had regarded each other for hun¬ dreds of years as natural enemies. It was itself a revolu¬ tion in the feelings and intercourse of the people. At the time of writing his pamphlet for the Catholics, Tone did not know a single prominent man among them, so complete was the separation between them and the Prot¬ estants. He wrote on the general merits of the case, and published anonymously. The Catholics were touched with this disinterested effort of a stranger, and called on the author to make himself known. They republished his pamphlet, and circulated it in all quarters, so that, when introduced to their leaders, Tone found himself famous with the whole body. The affairs of the Catholics of Ire¬ land at that time were managed by a general committee which sat in Dublin. This committee had lately employed as secretary Kichard Burke, the only son of the great Ed- 88 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. mund, hoping that his political connections, and especially the influence of his father, would prove of effectual service to their cause. They soon found that Richard Burke had inherited nothing of greatness but a name. He was as¬ suming and headstrong, and wholly wanting in the tact of a political leader. The committee were not sorry when his return to England left the office vacant. They now turned their eyes upon Tone. His unsolicited and gallant effort in their cause, and still more his manly yet courteous bear¬ ing, when they came to know him, showed them at once that he was their man. They unanimously offered him the situation, with a salary of two hundred pounds. This position would give him a certain degree of political influ¬ ence which he needed to carry out his plans, and he ac¬ cepted it. Richard Burke soon wrote from England, desiring to come back and resume his secretaryship, and enlarging on the indispensableness of his political influence. But the Avork was now in stronger hands. The committee soon found the difference between Richard Burke and Tone. “In reviewing the conduct of my predecessor, I saw that the rock on which he split Avas an overweening opinion of. his own talents and judg¬ ment, and a desire, which he had not art enough to con¬ ceal, of guiding at his pleasure, the measures of the com¬ mittee. I therefore determined to model my conduct Avith the greatest caution in this respect; I seldom or never of¬ fered my opinion unless it was called for, in the sub-com¬ mittee, but contented myself with giving my sentiments, without reserve, in private, to the tAvo men I most es- EFFORTS TO AROUSE THE CATHOLICS. 89 teemed, and who had in their respective capacities, the greatest influence on that body. Another rule which I adopted for my conduct was, in all the papers which I had occasion to write, to remember I was not speaking for my¬ self, but for the Catholic body; and consequently to be never wedded to my own compositions, but to receive the objections of every one with respect; and to change with¬ out reluctance whatever the committee thought fit to alter, even in cases where perhaps my own judgment was other¬ wise.” “ Others did not stand criticisim as I did without wincing.” His discretion in these respects was not unobserved, and he soon had the happiness to find that he had gained the confidence of the whole Catholic body. In truth no man ever deserved confidence more. Tone was himself a Protestant, but he was convinced of the justice of the Catholic claims, and he gave himself to their caiise without reserve. He could not be intimidated. He could not be bribed. The committee consulted him on all occa¬ sions. He advised them, and wrote all their publications. But the position of Tone was not that of a mere secretary. He was at the head of a great political agita¬ tion. The whole nation was to be aroused. Factious elements were to be brought into harmony. The timid were to be encouraged, and the rash to be restrained. “ The Catholics of Dublin were at this period to the Catholics of Ireland what Paris, at the commencement of the French Revolution, was to the departments.” The influence of a strong man at the capital was felt through¬ out the island. 90 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. As founder of the United Irishmen, and Secretary of the Catholic Committee, he had a double duty to perform. He soon found how strong were the religious jealousies of Protestants and Catholics; and his exertions were untiring to harmonize them, and to bring them to act together. He traveled into different parts of Ireland to arouse the people, and to organize societies of United Irishmen. Within a few months he made three journeys to Belfast, and had the satisfaction of bringing the Presbyterians generally into the system. He then started off for Con¬ naught, to make a tour of the great Catholic counties of Galway and Mayo.* He aroused the spirits of the Catholics themselves, for so abject had they become from long oppression, that they hardly dared to jDetition for justice, even in the most supplicating tone. He awoke them from their lethargy, and infused into them the breath of life. The gentry were brought to lend their powerful names. The bishops gave their sanction to the cause. His undaunted courage kept up their spirits when unfavorable events inclined them to despair. In one instance an effort had been made to form a corps of * Returning to Dublin, be writes to his wife: “ Affairs are going on here swimmingly. We have got up a club of United Irishmen in Dublin, similar to that in Belfast, who have adopted our resolutions. We have pretty well secured all Connaught, and are fighting out the other two prov¬ inces. It is wonderful with what zeal, spirit, activity, and secrecy, all things are conducted. My book is running like wildfire. The castle has got hold of the story, but very imperfectly. All they know is that the disorder broke out in Belfast, and was carried there by one Toole, or Toomey, or some such name, a lawyer. I suppose they will endeavor to find out this Mr. Toole or Toomey, or whatever his name is.” CATHOLIC EMANCIPATION RESISTED. 91 volunteers from all the religious sects. But a small number of Protestants came forward. The Catholics ex¬ pressed alarm. Tone answered boldly, “ And are not you the nation ? Do without them; will you not keep if you are not corned with Protestants?” So far from being disheartened by defeat, he advised the Catholics to keep a bold front, and at every refusal of the government to do them justice, like the ancient Sibyl, to rise in their de¬ mands. Thus he gave tone to the Catholic politics throughout the land, and was able to write in his journal, after his return from a political tour, “ The country Catholics, I think, will stand fire.” At other moments the party was too precipitate. When their hopes were suddenly excited by the dazzling suc¬ cesses of the French Revolution, which seemed likely to compel England to do them justice, their ardor burst out into extravagant and tumultuous joy. Then his cool judgment restrained them from rash measures. And at all times his liberal feelings, his perfect temper, and his entire devotion to their cause, gave him great command over the Catholics, and enabled him to quell rising discords between them and their Protestant brethren. But the great movement was not allowed to go forward unopposed. No sooner was it seen that the Dissenters and the Catholics were cordially uniting to obtain reform and emancipation, than all the bigotry of the Protestant ascen¬ dency was aroused. Protestant bodies throughout the island adopted the strongest resolutions against the pro¬ posed reforms. Of the bitter intolerance of that day, the following language is a specimen. At a meeting of the 92 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Mayor, Sheriffs, Commons, and citizens of Dublin, a long letter was addressed to the Protestants of Ireland, urging them to resist to the last the emancipation of the Catholics. It was adopted unanimously. The following is the closing paragraph:— “ Having thus, countrymen and friends, spoken to you our sentiments in the undisguised language of truth, we shall entreat you to join with us in using every honest means of persuading the Roman Catholics to rest content with, the most perfect toleration of their religion,—the fullest security of their property,—and the most complete personal liberty; but by no means, now or hereafter, to attempt any interference in the government of the king¬ dom ; as such interference would be incompatible with the Protestant ascendency, which we have resolved with our lives and fortunes to maintain. And that no doubt may remain of what we understand by the words 1 Protestant Ascendency, ’ we have further resolved, that we consider the Protestant ascendency to consist in—a Protestant King of Ireland,—a Protestant Parliament,—a Protestant hierarchy, —Protestant Electors and Government,—the benches of Justice,—the Army and the Revenue,—through all their branches and details, Protestant,—and this system supported by a connection with the Protestant Realm of Britain.”* Against this monstrous injustice Grattan raised his powerful voice. “ What!” he exclaimed, “ the Catholics never be free!” He declared that such mighty wrong could not stand. He anticipated a change of times,—a new order of things. “You may as well plant your foot * Sir Richard Musgrave’s History, vol. ii. p. 223. THE CATHOLIC CONVENTION. 93 upon the earth, and hope by that resistance to stop the diurnal revolution, which advances you to that morning sun which is to shine alike on the Protestant and the Catholic, as you can hope to arrest the progress of that other light, reason and justice, which comes to liberate the Catholic, and to liberalize the Protestant.” Tone was not dismayed at the opposition which the efforts of the Catholics and United Irishmen had provoked. “ All parties,” he says, “ were now fully employed in pre¬ paring for the ensuing session of Parliament. The gov¬ ernment, through the organ of the corporations and grand juries, opened a heavy fire upon us of manifestoes and resolutions. At first we were like young soldiers, a little stunned with the noise, but after a few rounds, we began to look about us, and seeing nobody drop with all this furious cannonade, we took courage, and determined to return the fire.” Their exertions were most successful. The spirit of the Catholics was aroused. Political information was widely diffused. Union gave them confidence, while the triumphs of liberty in France strengthened their zeal and their courage. The result of these exertions was seen at the close of this year. In December, 1792, a Convention of Delegates from the Catholics of Ireland assembled in Dublin. It was composed of delegates from all the counties, cities, and principal towns of the kingdom. This was an imposing body, representing as it did three millions of men. It assembled in the same room in Back Lane, in which the Parliament of King James sat at the time of the Eevolution. Its object was to draw up a 94 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. statement of tlie grievances of tire Catholics, and without petitioning further to the Irish parliament, to appeal \ directly to the King. This was a violation of ordinary j rules. The usual course had been to place a petition in the hands of the Lord Lieutenant, who transmitted it to ■: His Majesty. But this was no time for civilities. They j had lost all confidence in the Irish administration, and : would ask no favors from them. They would not bend ! the knee of supplication to any power less than the Monarch of those realms. They found—what is generally true—that the higher the authority to which they ap¬ pealed, the more likely was their petition to be treated with respect. Subordinate officials, wielding a limited and short-lived authority,, are generally ambitious to show their power. Wherefore they appealed to Caesar. Tone was the only Protestant admitted to the Convention. He wrote their memorable petition to George III. The mem¬ bers of the Convention signed it. The Archbishop of Dublin and the Bishop of Cork added their names as representing the Catholic Clergy of Ireland. Tone ac¬ companied the delegation which carried it to England. On their way they passed through Belfast. So thoroughly had the principles of the United Irishmen pervaded that noble city, that at their departure, the people assembled in crowds, and took their horses from their carriage, and drew them through the town, amid enthusiastic cheers, and cries of “ Success attend you,” “Union,” “Equal Laws,” and “Down with the Ascen¬ dency.” * The delegates pursued their way to London. * Moore’s Life of Fitzgerald, vol. i. p. 165. THE CATHOLIC CONVENTION. 95 Earl Moira at once waited on tliem to offer tliem the hos¬ pitality of his mansion, and the command of his house¬ hold. He repeatedly entertained them in a style of princely magnificence. They entered the Palace of St. James, and were presented by Right Hon. Henry Dundas to George III. Thus they had fought their way to the foot of the throne. His Majesty received them very politely, conversing familiarly with each of the delegates, and respectfully considered their petition. The result was a repeal of the most oppressive penal laws, and the admis¬ sion of Catholics to the elective franchize. A wonderful change had indeed come over the spirit of the Protestant ascendency. But a few years before the Catholics were in the lowest political degradation. As late as 1759 the Irish Chancellor had declared from the bench, that “ the laws did not presume a papist to exist in the kingdom, nor could they breathe without the con¬ nivance of government.” Though the Catholics had uni¬ formly presented an abject address on the accession of every new Lord Lieutenant, they had been scarcely thought worth noticing. In fact the Duke of Portland in 1782 was the first who condescended to give them an answer. And when they had ventured so far as to sup¬ plicate a little redress, in 1790, they could not find a single member of the Legislature to present their petition. Even later,—in 1792 their petition was spurned with contempt by that very Parliament, which one year after hastened to grant it with a precipitation which showed that it was yielded to fear rather than justice. CHAPTER VIII. The Irish Volunteers Disbanded.—Earl Fitzwit.liam Lord Lieutenant.— The United Irishmen changed to a Secret Society.—Trial and Death of Rev. William Jackson.—Hamilton Rowan makes his Escape.—Tone flees to America.—Meets old Comrades.—Sails for France. Meanwhile tlie organization of the Irish Volunteers had gradually declined. They had made a fatal mistake at the outset, in excluding the Catholics from their ranks and from the objects of their petitions. There was a pal¬ pable inconsistency in demanding equal representation for themselves, and denying it to three fourths of the nation. The government had viewed with jealousy the existence of such a body of armed men. They felt the suspicion of the Volunteers which the present governments of Europe feel of their National Guards; and seized every means to weaken their imposing array. Corruption did its work upon some of the leaders. The Volunteers began to hesitate and waver in their policy. Their numbers and their enthusiasm diminished, until in 1793, the govern¬ ment, seeing the moment opportune, issued an order that any assemblage of the Volunteers should be dispersed by an armed force. This gave the death-blow to that body, which had achieved so much for their country, and which might have gained every thing, if they had been. EARL FITZWILLIAM LORD LIEUTENANT. 97 liberal enough to concede justice to the Catholics, and had been at the same time united and firm. As it was, with its limited views, it had done its work. It was time that it should give place to a more sweeping movement for Bef'orm. Some of the disbanded regiments fell back into the ranks of the government party, but those who retained the resolute spirit of the old volunteers gradually merged in the United Irishmen. In January 1795 a gleam of sunshine broke upon Ireland in the appointment of Earl Fitzwilliam as Lord Lieutenant. This liberal nobleman was extremely popular in Ireland. He called to his councils Grattan and others in whom the nation had confidence. He brought forward a bill for the complete emancipation of the Catholics. The effect was electrical. The rising anger of the nation in¬ stantly lulled. Irritated feelings were allayed. The agi¬ tation of the public mind calmed down. Had he con¬ tinued in office, no organized opposition could have be¬ come formidable. But his very humanity incurred the hatred of the more violent Orange faction, and through them subjected him to the suspicion of the heads of power at home. He had only been in office a few weeks when he was recalled, and in his place came over Lord Camden, whose “ vigorous” government soon raised the whole country in opposition. He was himself rather a weak than a bad man. But however good his intentions, he produced all the evil of the most odious tyrant, in suf¬ fering himself to be ruled by one of the worst factions that ever ruined a country. The measures of reform which had been proposed were dropped. There was an end to E 93 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. hopes of peaceful redress, and nothing remained for the nation but heroic resistance. The recall of Earl Fitzwilliam was a virtual declaration of Avar on the part of government against all measures of concession. It forced the United Irishmen to change their policy. The year before the old society had been dis¬ solved. Its members felt that they had erred in alloAving its discussions to be public. They now (in ’95) formed a neAV society, embracing more extensive designs than the former, and guarding its councils by an oath of inviolable secrecy. AVe have seen in our OAvn times secret societies playing a most important part in political revolutions. The Greek clubs in the war Avith Turkey were so many centers of conspiracy. The Italian Carbonari have been for years a smoking volcano, threatening at any moment to burst out anew. But in all the history of conspiracies per¬ haps never was an organization so perfect, so secret, so ex¬ tensive, so formidable, as that of the United Irishmen. Their designs were now bolder than before. Hitherto they had sought only peaceful reforms. There was still room for a compromise Avith the leaders if the government would make certain concessions. But there was no pros¬ pect of one. The obstinacy with which the plainest de¬ mands of justice had been resisted by the oligarchy which then ruled Ireland, had forced the people to meditate taking the poAver into their OAvn hands. As early as 1792 the French Convention had sent to the popular leaders in Ireland, an offer to deposit in any bank in Europe the pay for forty thousand men for six months, on condition that the Volunteers would declare REV. WILLIAM JACKSON. 99 independence of England. But at that day few were pre¬ pared to take up arms. The offer was declined. It needed several years more of harsh and cruel government to force them to contemplate open resistance. But injustice and military violence at last opened their eyes. They felt that it would he easier to effect a revolution than a reform. The society now became an organized conspiracy for the overthrow of the English power in Ireland. Its members began to breathe the fierce passions of war. In every part of the kingdom they had their clubs and their badges. Green was the national color. “ A green velvet stock, or a silk robe, with a shamrock device, were the symbols of Irish feeling.” About this time an unexpected event compelled Tone to fly from Ireland. In the spring of 1794 Rev. William Jackson, an Irish clergyman, was sent over from France to sound his countrymen as to their willingness to receive the French in case of an invasion. The rashness of this man cost him his life, and had nearly involved that of Tone. On arriving in London he communicated the ob¬ ject of his mission to an old acquaintance of the name of Cockayne, an English attorney, who hastened to the government to sell his information and the life of his friend. Pitt advised him to follow Jackson to Ireland, and to watch him. On arriving in that country, Jackson soon opened himself to Tone, who by this time was fully prepared for a revolution. He said to be sure it would be a most severe remedy for their abuses, but that he saw no other; for that liberty was so shackled in Ireland, that the people had no way left to expose their sentiments but 100 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. by open resistance. He however avoided committing him¬ self to any projected invasion, for he was disgusted at the unlimited confidence which Jackson reposed in Cockayne. “This business,” he said, “is one thing for us Irishmen: but an Englishman who engages in it, must be a traitor one way or another.” He made it a point never to open himself in his presence, and soon withdrew altogether from a business in which he saw such ruinous indiscretion. To this timely prudence he owed his life. So rash was Jack- son that Tone began to suspect that he was himself an emissary of the British government. This suspicion how¬ ever was entirely removed by his heroic death. As soon as the plot was ripe Cockayne turned informer, and Jackson was arrested for high treason. Once in prison every trace of weakness disappeared, and he stood up with manly firmness to meet his inevitable doom. It is pleas¬ ant, in a history so sad as that of Ireland at this period, to meet with actions which do honor to human nature. A striking instance of nobleness occurred during Jackson’s imprisonment. Just before his trial a friend called to see him, and remained until a late hour of the night. As he rose to depart, Mr. Jackson accompanied him to the door where the jailer generally waited. To their surprise they found that he had sunk down into a deep sleep, with the keys of the prison lying beside him. Mr. Jackson bent down to pick up the keys, but without snatching at the prospect of escape, he merely said, “Poor fellow! let us not disturb him; I have already been too troublesome to him in this way.” He accordingly accompanied his friend through to the outer door of the prison. As he turned JACKSON’S TRIAL AND DEATH. 101 the lock, and the free night air blew upon him, he felt the temptation to escape. The door was open. The street was clear. The night would protect him. He had a friend to aid his flight. For a moment he was deeply agitated. Then recovering his firmness, he said, “ I could do it , but what would be the consequences to you, and to the poor fellow within, who has been so kind to me ? Ho ! let me rather meet my fate.” With these words, he turned from his friend and liberty, locked the door of the prison, and returned to his cell.”* It was a whole year from the time of Jackson’s arrest before he was brought to trial. Curran, the brave, the noble-hearted Curran, who never shrunk from the side of the powerless, undertook his defense. The testimony of Cockayne was positive. But it was contrary to the law of England to convict of high treason on the testimony of a single witness. It was found, however, that the ancient law of Ireland differed on this point. By that one witness was sufficient. The judges were too glad to have difficul¬ ties removed in the way of ready conviction. Jackson was condemned. On the day that he was brought to the court to receive his sentence, he was observed to hang his head out of the window of the carriage with the appearance of one deadly sick. When placed in the dock, he could hardly stand. He had swallowed metallic poison. “He beckoned to his counsel to approach him, and making an effort to grasp him with his damp and nerveless hand, uttered, in a whisper, and with a smile of mournful tri- * Curran’s Life, p. 161. 102 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. umph, the dying words of Pierre: “We have deceived the senate.”* It was soon apparent that he was dying. He still struggled to stand erect, and crossing his arms upon his breast, to face the court. He strove to open his heavy eye to look round on the crowded room. But his frame was already in convulsions, and before the judge was ready to pronounce the sentence, he sank and breathed his last. A slip of paper was found in his pocket, with the following sentences in his handwriting:—“Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me, for I am desolate and afflicted. The troubles of my heart are enlarged: oh bring thou me out of my distresses. Look upon my affliction and my pain, and forgive all my sins. Oh, keep my soul and deliver me. Let me not be ashamed, for I put my trust in thee.” The trial of Jackson produced a powerful sensation throughout Ireland. It was the first trial for high treason which had taken place in that court for more than a cen¬ tury. It was the beginning of that long series of state trials which were soon to mark a reign of terror. But instead of dismaying the United Irishmen, it had rather a contrary effect. It showed the people of Ireland that the eyes of the French Directory were upon them, and that the power which was effecting revolutions in so many countries of Europe, might suddenly visit them. But it made it necessary for those who were implicated in the affair to leave the kingdom. Dr. Reynolds imme¬ diately fled. Hamilton Rowan was already in Newgate on a charge of libel, for publishing an address which reflected * Otway’s Venice Preserved. ESCAPE OF HAMILTON ROWAN. 103 on the government. Cockayne had been introduced to him in prison, and he had compromised himself to a degree which in those dangerous times could easily be construed into treason. Not a moment was to be lost in making his escape. He prevailed upon his keepers to take him one evening from prison to his home, in order to make out a deed, as fear had been expressed that a deed signed in prison would be invalid. Here he did not forget the duties of hospitality. The best liquors were spread upon the table, and his guests, though not perhaps the men he would have invited, were made Avelcome, and the social glass went round. When good feeling was thus established, Rowan carelessly wished to step into the next room a mo¬ ment, to speak to Mrs. Rowan. Once in his wife’s apart¬ ment, he changed his dress for that of a herdsman. A knotted rope was made fast to the bedpost, and passed out of the window, and on this he slipped down to the garden. He went straight to the stable, and mounted his horse. A friend had appointed to meet him, and leaving his keepers, to make merry over their wine, the confederates spurred to the country. They had a friend who lived by the sea¬ shore. They made their way to his cottage. Here Rowan lay secreted several days. But scarcely had the day broke, when parties of soldiers were abroad, searching every sus¬ pected place of concealment. Dublin rang with accounts of the escape of an important state-prisoner. Proclama¬ tions were issued, describing his person, and offering a re¬ ward of three thousand pounds for his apprehension. His friend had a little fishing wherry which lay by the shore. Rowan declared that he was willing to risk his safety in it. 104 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. His friend then sought three sailors to convey an unknown person to France. One of them came, bringing the proc¬ lamation in his pocket. He drew it out and opened to the description. Eowan’s person could not be mistaken. The sailor exclaimed, “It is Hamilton Eowan that we are to take to France.” “Yes,” said Eowan’s friend, “and here he is,” and he introduced him. The temptation to betray their prisoner was great. But the noble-hearted sailors spurned the thought. “ Never mind it,” said they, “ we will land him safe.” The next day they sailed, and landed their passenger in safety on the shores of France. What money he had left, Eowan divided equally among his little crew, and ordered them to make for England.* A more noble instance of fidelity can hardly be found in history. Divided among three poor sailors three thousand pounds would be a fortune. Eowan could make them but a trifling compensation. He had no claim upon them of former friendship. They had never seen him before. He owed his safety entirely to that impulse of generosity, and to that quick sense of honor, which are native to the Irish breast. Tone had hardly gone far enough to be convicted of treason, and he remained in Ireland during all the time be¬ tween Jackson’s arrest and his death. Still he was not safe. Hitherto he had been sheltered from prosecution by the personal friendship of persons connected with the gov¬ ernment. But he was liable at any day to be arrested. * The account of this escape in the Memoir of Thomas Addis Emmet, differs from this in one or two slight particulars. I have followed Rowan’s autobiography, p. 201. TONE FLEES TO AMERICA. 105 He therefore regarded it as an act of prudence to retire from the country, and prepared to go to America. Before leaving Ireland, Tone consulted with his two best friends, Emmet and Russel, about his future course. “A short time before my departure, my friend Russel being in town, he and I walked out together to Rathfarn- ham, to see Emmet, who has a charming villa there. He showed us a little study, of an elliptical form, which he was building at the bottom of the lawn, and which he said he would consecrate to our meetings, if ever we lived to see our country emancipated. As we walked together into town, I opened my plan to them both. I told them that my intention was, immediately on my arrival in Phil¬ adelphia, to wait on the French minister, to detail to him fully the situation of affairs in Ireland, to endeavor to ob¬ tain a recommendation to the French government; and, if I succeeded so far, to leave my family in America, and to set off instantly for Paris, and apply in the name of my country, for the assistance of France, to enable us to assert our independence. It is unnecessary to say that this plan met with the warmest approbation from both Russel and Emmet; we shook hands, and having repeated our profes¬ sions of unalterable regard and esteem for each other, we parted; and this was the last interview which I was so happy as to have with those two invaluable friends to¬ gether. I remember it was in a little triangular field that this conversation took place; and Emmet remarked to us, that it was in one exactly like it in Switzerland that Will¬ iam Tell and his associates planned the downfall of the tyranny of Austria.” 106 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. The ship which was to convey him to America was to sail from Belfast. He accordingly set off for that city in May, with his wife, sister, and three children. In Belfast he was detained near a month, and during this time noth¬ ing could exceed the kindness of the people. Every day they dined with friends. Excursions into the country, and sailing parties, were planned for their amusement. The whole town seemed to unite to make them forget the pain of their approaching exile. This visit was useful to Tone in another way. It enabled him to consult with the northern leaders as to his course. He met the leading men of the dissenters and of the defenders. All entered warmly into his plan, and enjoined him to leave nothing unattempted to force his way to France, and to lay their situation before the government. He says, “I now looked upon myself as competent to speak fully and with confi¬ dence for the Catholics, for the Dissenters, and for the De¬ fenders of Ireland.” The day of parting came. It was the 15th of June, 1795, that Tone left Ireland, which he was to see no more until he returned with an invading army. His friends loaded his family with presents. They filled his cabin with sea-stores, fresh provisions, and sweetmeats for their comfort on the voyage—acts of kindness which could not but strengthen Iris affection for the Irish people, and his determination to leave no means untried to effect their in¬ dependence. The voyage was pleasant, except that off the banks of Newfoundland they were boarded by the boats of three English frigates, who impressed every hand of the ship but TONE IN AMERICA. 107 one, and nearly fifty poor emigrants who were seeking a home in America. This incident did not conciliate Tone’s feelings toward the English government. On the first of August he landed at Wilmington in Delaware. The next week he went to Philadelphia, then the seat of government. “ Immediately on my arrival,” he writes, “ I found out my old friend and brother exile, Dr. Reynolds. From him I learned that Hamilton Rowan had arrived about six weeks before from France, and that same evening we all three met. It was a singular ren¬ contre, and our several escapes from an ignominious death seemed little short of a miracle. We communicated our adventures since our last interview, which took place in the gaol of Newgate in Dublin, fourteen months before.”* In Philadelphia Tone became acquainted with Talley- * Rowan, on landing in France, had been arrested as a spy. The suspicion was natural. So many were the ruses resorted to by the emissaries of England to smuggle themselves into France, that a stranger landing alone from a fishing wherry, seemed much more likely to have crossed the channel from England, than to have come in that slender bark all the way from Ireland. Rowan was seized and brought before the commandant of a fort on the coast. He related his story. The commandant heard him through, and then coolly replied that as it appeared by his account that he had escaped from prison in his own country, he would take care that he should not escape him, and ordered him into confinement. He was soon sent on to Paris, and brought before Robespierre. Nothing appeared against him, and he was set at liberty. A few weeks after Robespierre fell. In two days more Rowan stood in the Place de la Revolution, and saw the whole com¬ mune of Paris, about sixty persons, guillotined in less than an hour and a half. He stood above a hundred paces from the scaffold, bnt the blood of the victims streamed under his feet. Escaping from these bloody scenes, he sought peace and quietness in another hemisphere. 108 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. rand, who was also then in exile, with whom he was after¬ ward to be engaged in such important affairs in France, and who ultimately proved a friend and protector to his family. He immediately presented himself to the French minister with a statement of his plans. The minister re¬ ceived him politely, but showed little enthusiasm in his Irish scheme. From this Tone thought that he might be compelled to remain in America, and he had actually se¬ lected a house and farm near Princeton, when he received letters from Ireland which again awoke his patriotic ardor. They informed him of the increasing political excitement in Ireland, and that a collision could not long be deferred. Many expressions were couched in enigmatical language for fear of their falling into the hands of the English, One of the Catholic leaders of Dublin asks, “Do you in¬ tend, like Cincinnatus, and- your greater Washington, to follow the plow, and like them , to quit it when your coun¬ try calls V One of the United Irish leaders writes to him to draw upon him for two hundred pounds. All urged him to force his way to France to supplicate their assist¬ ance. His resolution was instantly taken. He called again on the French minister, and now found him as eager to forward his plans as he had been cool about them be¬ fore. He had written home for instructions, and received an order from the Directory to urge Tone to repair imme¬ diately to France. He gave him a letter in cipher to the Committee of Public Safety. Tone returned to Princeton to take leave of his family. He was accompanied by Ham¬ ilton Eowan. “ That night we supped together in high spirits; and Rowan retiring immediately after, my wife, SAILS FOR FRANCE. 109 sister and I, sat together till very late, engaged in that kind of animated and enthusiastic conversation which our char¬ acters and the nature of the enterprise I was embarked in, may be supposed to give rise to. The courage and firm¬ ness of the women supported me, and them too, beyond my expectations ; we had neither tears nor lamentations, but on the contrary the most ardent hope and the most steady resolution. At four the next morning I embraced them both for the last time, and we parted with a steadi¬ ness which astonished me.” While in New York, waiting for a ship, his brother Matthew, who, after a variety of ad¬ ventures, had just been released from a French prison, ar¬ rived in America. But the brothers did not know that they were so near each other, and did not meet. Tone sailed from New York on the first day of the new year 1796, leaving his family to follow him, if he should settle in France. Once on the voyage they were chased by a Bermudian, so that he threw overboard a part of his papers. But their ship was stout, and flew fast across the waves. In exactly one month Tone landed at Havre, and immediately made his way to Paris. CHAPTER IX. Tone in France.—Shiel’s Speech.—Acquaintance with James Monroe.— Audience of Carnot.-—Life in Paris.—Plans for invading Ireland.—■ General Hoche.—Tone’s Introduction.—Council of War with Hoche and Carnot. With Tone’s mission to France begin the most impor¬ tant transactions of his life. It was in executing this that he accomplished most for the liberation of Ireland. The circumstances in which he embarked in that solitary enterprise, must be understood to appreciate the force of his character. We have now lying before us a speech of Mr. Shiel, the brilliant orator of the English Parliament; a speech made at the time that he was agitating with O’Connel for Catholic Emancipation, in which he thus refers to Tone “ I hold in my hand a book which has recently arrived here from America,—the life of the unfortunate and deluded Theobald Wolfe Tone. Of his character upon this occasion it is not necessary to say any thing, except that he was loved and prized by all who knew him. He was chivalrous, aspiring, and enthusiastic; and possessed, not only of great talents, but what is in politics of still more importance, of dauntless determination. * * * It is SHIEL’S SPEECH. Ill right to put you in possession of the exact circumstances in which Tone was placed, that you may judge how much was accomplished by a single man, in the midst of diffi¬ culties which it is almost wonderful that he should have surmounted. In the year 1795 Tone retired to America with his wife (an incomparable woman) and two children. He had eight hundred pounds in the world. At first he formed an intention of remaining in the United States, but liberty and the savannahs were not enough for him. Tone was one of those restless spirits who feel that they are born for great undertakings. He set sail for France with a mind full of hope, and with no more than one hundred guineas in his pocket. He arrived at Havre on the first of February, 1796, and proceeded at once to Paris. When he was placed in the midst of that city, and stood upon the Pont-neuf, he looked upon the vast array of palaces turned into the domicils of democracy; he saw the metropolis of France in all its vastness and glory, and he also felt what Seneca has so well expressed, —urbs magna, magna solitudo. Still, although without a friend, nay (for the former is not so uncommon) without an acquaintance, poor, desolate, thrown as it were, and ship¬ wrecked upon France, his vast design did not leave him.” After detailing Tone’s negotiations with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Shiel proceeds:— “ He took at last a wise determination, and went directly to Carnot, the president of the Directory of France. Carnot was justly called “the organizer of victory,” and he was induced to extend his genius for organization to Ireland. Tone succeeded so far as to induce the French 112 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. government to determine upon an invasion of this coun¬ try. At first the project was lamely and imperfectly got up. But to prevail to any extent was to do much. It is really matter for surprise that such a man as Tone, without rank, fortune, or a single friend, could accomplish so much. Yet it remains to he seen that Tone did much more. The French at first proposed to send only 2000 men. Tone saw at once that such a measure would he utterly absurd. By much ado he persuaded them to increase the army to 8000 men, with 50,000 stand of arms. At length Hoche, a general of great fame, was induced to put himself at the head of the expedition; and as he felt that great objects must be attained by great means, he required 15,000 men, a great body of cannoniers, a vast supply of cannon, and arms for the whole population. Such was the force that sailed from Brest. There were seventeen ships of the line in attendance upon the army. It was Wolfe Tone who accomplished all this. It was his vigorous and aspiring mind that filled the sails of that great fleet, and wafted them upon their course.” When Tone entered the walls of Paris, he knew not a human being in it. The first man to whom he directed his steps was James Monroe, at that time the American minister. He had brought a letter of introduction. Monroe received him very politely, and during the whole time he was in Paris, aided him materially in his plans. He directed him to the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and allowed him to refer the government to himself for infor¬ mation as to his character and standing. The minister had ACQUAINTANCE WITH JAMES MONROE. 113 his letter from the French agent at Philadelphia immedi¬ ately deciphered and laid before the Directory, who con¬ sidered it of the highest importance. The minister ended by directing him to a confidential agent of the government, who spoke the English language, and to whom he could explain himself without reserve. This person, whose name was Madgett, was delighted to see him. He assured Tone that “ the government had their attention turned most seriously to Irish affairs; that they felt that unless they could separate Ireland from England, the latter was invulnerable; that they were willing to conclude a treaty offensive and defensive with Ireland; that they would supply ten sail of the line, arms, and money; and that they were already making arrangements in Spain and Holland for that purpose.” This was very gratifying, but Tone soon found that it would not do to transact his business with a subordinate. Monroe, who conversed with him without reserve, said, “You must change your plan; I have no doubt whatever of the integrity and sincerity of the minister De la Croix, aor even of Madgett, whom I believe to be honest. But m the first place, it is a subaltern way of doing business, ind in the next, the vanity of Madgett will be very likely ,o lead him, in order to raise his importance in the eyes of some of his countrymen, who are here as patriots, to drop some hint of what is going forward. Go at once to the Executive Directory and demand an audience; explain /■ourself to them, and as to me, you may go so far as to •efer to me for the authenticity of what you may advance, md you may add, that I am in a degree apprised of your 114 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES business.” Tone expressed a doubt whether, as he was al¬ ready in the hands of La Croix, there might not be some indelicacy in going directly to the Directory. Monroe an¬ swered, “ By no means, that in his own functions the proper person to communicate with was La Croix, but that nevertheless, when he had any business of consequence, he went at once to the fountain-head.” “ He then proceeded to mention, that in all the changes which had taken place in France, there never was an abler or purer set of men at the head of affairs than at present; that they were sincere friends to liberty and justice, and in no wise actuated by a spirit of conquest; that consequently, if they took up the business of Ireland on my motion, I would find them per¬ fectly fair and candid; that not only the government, but the whole people were most violently exasperated against England, and that there was no one thing that could at once command the warmest support of all parties, so much as any measure which promised a reduction of her power.” He told him afterward that Carnot was a military man, and one of the first engineers of Europe. The very next day Tone presented himself at the Lux¬ embourg, and demanded an audience of Carnot. He soon found himself closeted in a private cabinet with the organ¬ izer of victory. All this time, Tone was passing under an assumed name, to conceal his movements from the spies of the English government who might be in Paris. There was a multitude of English agents who passed themselves off as Americans. Tone was dogged by spies. Even in the antechamber of the minister his path was crossed by a very suspicious character. In his first interview with LIFE IN PARIS. 115 '‘Carnot he presented himself as the representative of the United Irishmen, to make a statement of the condition of his country, and forgot to mention his name. Hardly had he left the room when this omission occurred to him, and he turned back to correct it. “I then told Carnot, that as to my situation, credit, and the station I had filled in Ireland, I begged leave to refer him to James Monroe, the American embassador. He seemed struck with this, and then for the first time, asked my name. I told him in fact I had two names, my real one, and that under which I traveled, and was described in my passport. I then took a slip of paper, and wrote the name, ‘James Smith, citoyen Americain,’ and under it, Theobald Wolfe Tone, which I handed him, adding that my real name was the undermost. He took the paper, and looking over it said, Ha! Theobald Wolfe Tone! with the expression of one who has just re¬ collected a circumstance. I then told him I would finish my memorial as soon as possible, and hoped he would per¬ mit me in the course of a few days to present myself to him again, to which he answered, By all means.” The diary of Tone at this period abounds in the most lively sketches of his negotiations with the French govern¬ ment, and of the principal personages then in Paris. Confin¬ ing himself strictly to the object of his mission, he sought no acquaintance. During the seven months he was in Paris, he did not become acquainted with a single family. His sole intercourse was with the government, the Directo¬ ry, ministers, secretaries or generals, or with two or three Irishmen whom he chanced to meet. Much of his time was passed in drawing up memorials on the state of 116 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Ireland. When the business of writing was oyer, he went to dine at the Palais Royal; or strolled to the Champ de Mars to witness a military review, or sauntered with a friend under the trees of the Champs Elysees. As he rode into the country, his eye ranged with delight over the plentiful harvests, the orchards, the vineyards, “ the fields all rich with corn and wine.” Nothing looked desolate, but the chateaux of the old nobility. These were deserted and solitary, for their owners were gone. In the evening, his constant resource was the theater and the opera. He says, “ All the theaters are as full every night as they can hold.” He could not resist the enthusiasm with which the French sung the Chant du Depart, and the glorious strains of the Marseillaise hymn, when at the verse, “ Tremblez tyrans,” the whole audience rose to their feet, and the theater rang with applause. France at that moment presented a heroic spectacle. She was then maintaining in the field fourteen armies, in¬ cluding nearly a million of men. A young lieutenant had just gone off to take command of the army of Italy, and Tone mentioning soon after in his journal the victories of Montenotte and of Millesimo, gives this piece of intelli¬ gence, “ The French general is Bonaparte, a Corsican.” Tone had a most arduous task before him, yet even in moments of the greatest difficulty, he kept up a brave heart. Whenever in his journal he has occasion to men¬ tion any disaster which threatens to defeat his schemes, he commonly ends with some quotation such as, “ ’Tis but in vain, for soldiers to complain,” or “How merrily we live that soldiers be.” PLANS FOR INVADING IRELAND. 117 Many years after, tlie journals of Tone were published in full by his son, and constitute an autobiography of ro¬ mantic interest. “ To this book,” says Moore, “ I must refer the reader for particulars, adding only my opinion, that there are few books, whether for the matter or the manner, more interesting; the character of the writer him¬ self presenting the most truly Irish mixture of daring in design and light-heartedness in execution; while the sense of awe with which it is impossible not to contemplate a mission pregnant with such consequences, is forever re¬ lieved by those alternate flashes of humor and sentiment with which only a temperament so national could have en¬ livened or softened such details.”* Tone now drew up full memorials on the state of Ire¬ land, in which he stated the population and resources of hat country, their political discontent, and the organiza¬ tions which had been formed for revolution. He then vent on to state the troops necessary for a successful inva- ion, and the places on the coast at which they should land, hll these points he detailed more minutely and repeatedly a conversation. He said that with 20,000 men there rould be no possibility of resistance for an hour, and they iiould begin with the capital. They would then have all re offices of government instantly in their hands. With ,000 men he would have no doubt of success, but they rast expect some hard fighting, and should begin near elfast, as the province of Ulster was the most populous id warlike in the kingdom, and it was there the United ■ishmen were the strongest. He pointed out on a map * Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, vol. i. p. 198. 118 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of Ireland the position of Belfast. In case of landing here with hut five thousand men, they should push immedi¬ ately for the mountains of Mourne and the Fews, by means of which and of Lough Erne, they would cover the entire province of Ulster, and maintain themselves until they had collected their friends in sufficient force to penetrate to Dublin. He suggested at the same time that if possible, a second landing should be made in the bay of Galway, which army should cover itself as soon as possible by the Shannon, breaking down most of the bridges and fortify¬ ing the remainder. They would thus begin with one half the nation, and that the most discontented part. As the Irish had been little accustomed to the use of artillery, they would need a large body of cannoniers. As, how¬ ever, they had no strongly fortified towns, they need only be provided with light field-pieces, with a few sixteen- pounders. The minister seemed somewhat staggered al the demand of 20,000 men. He said that they could not possibly be transported, unless the French were masters of the channel, in which case they could as well send 40,000. or 60,000, and march at once to London. The Directory therefore proposed a small expedition—-not more thar 2,000. Tone declared flatly that with that number k thought the business utterly desperate, for that let then land where they would, they would be utterly defeated be fore any one could join them. Five thousand men h( thought the very lowest number that would afford any chance of success, and he had the satisfaction to see that as he stood firm in his demands, the views of the govern ment steadily rose. He insisted further, that if Frano (; j til 91 ill PLANS FOR INVADING IRELAND. 119 could not send more than five or six thousand, they should be the very best troops—not merely disciplined soldiers, but men accustomed to stand fire, some of the old bat¬ talions from Holland or the Rhine. “ As to the place of embarkation,” he said, “ it might be worth consideration whether it could not be best effected from Holland; that their harbors were less closely watched than the French; and that at any rate England has no port for ships of war to the northward of Portsmouth; so that even if she had a fleet off the coasts of Holland, it must return occasionally to refit, and during one of these intervals, the expedition might take place.” He dwelt much on the fact that two thirds of the sea¬ men in the British navy were Irishmen. “ Since the com¬ mencement of the present war Ireland had furnished Eng¬ land 200,000 men, of whom 80,000 were for the navy.” He detailed the preparations which had been made in Ire¬ land for immediately organizing a new government. “ The Catholic committee is already a complete representation of that body; and the Dissenters are so prepared that they can immediately choose delegates. Those two bodies when joined, will represent numerically nine tenths of the peo¬ ple, and of course, under existing circumstances, are the oest government that we can form at the moment.” His vishes were in favor of a very strong, or even military gov¬ ernment at the outset, to give stability to the new order of hings. The Directory began to see the immense importance of avading Ireland. But they wished first to send a person d that country to obtain the latest intelligence in regard to 120 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. its political condition. Tlie matter was proposed to Tone, lie answered that he was too well known to be there four- and-twenty hours without being seized; that consequently he was the most unfit person in the world. Besides they would find in the English papers, and much more in the Irish, sufficient evidence of the state of the country to support every word he had advanced. The project of sending such an emissary he thought dangerous, not only to the individual, but to the cause. Whoever went, he cautioned him not to carry any papers, not to write a syllable, nor to take a scrape of a pen with him, nor to speak to above four or five persons, whom he woidd point out, for fear of hazarding a discovery which might blast all. In fact, from want of proper caution, an emissary who was sent, was seized just as he was about to embark at Margate for France, and tried and executed. In all his communications with the directory, Tone had insisted much on the importance of an able general at the head of the expedition. He had wished for Pichegru as the one whose name was most known in Ireland, and next to him Jourdan. The command fell upon one younger and less known abroad, but a greater military genius than either. Early in July Tone was informed that General Hoche was coming up with all privacy to Paris, to confer with the Directory on the expedition. This youthful sol¬ dier had begun his career as a sergeant in the French guards, and by the force of his intellect had risen to the rank of a general in a single campaign. His rise was as sudden as that of Napoleon. He discovered the same pre¬ cocious genius in the art of war. He received the com- GENERAL HOCHE. 121 mand of the army of the Moselle. He defeated Wurmser and drove the Austrians out of Alsace. Jealous of his growing popularity and power, the Committee of Public Safety had seized and imprisoned him. He was saved from the guillotine by the fall of Eobespierre. Released from prison, he began a new career of victory. He was appointed to the command of the army in La Vendee. That province had long stood out against the armies of the Republic. To Hoche was reserved the glory of being, not only its conqueror, but its pacificator. In the manage¬ ment of this civil war he had shown, not only the impetu¬ osity of a soldier in battle, but the humanity, and the con¬ ciliating policy of an old and wise statesman. He was as humane as he was brave. He afterward said to Tone, that great mischief had been done to the principles of liberty, md additional difficulties thrown in the way of the French Revolution by the quantity of blood spilled. “For,” he idded, “when you guillotine a man, you get rid of an indi- /idual, it is true, but then you make all his friends and ;onnections enemies forever to the government.” The account which Tone gives of his first interview vith Hoche will show the spirit with which his journal /as kept:— “July 12.—As I was sitting in my cabinet, studying ictics, a person knocked at the door, who, on opening it, roved to be a dragoon of the third regiment. He rought me a note from Clarke,* informing me that the * Clarke, afterward Duke of Feltre, and Minister of War under Na- )leon, was the son of an Irishman, and had himself been in that country, e figures much in these negotiations. F 122 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. person lie mentioned was arrived, and desired to see me at one o’clock. I ran off directly to tlie Luxembourg, and was showed into Fleury’s cabinet, where I remained till three, when the door opened, and a very handsome, well- made young fellow, in a brown coat and nankeen pant¬ aloons, entered and said, “ Vous etes le citoyen Smith ?” I thought he was a chef de bureau, and replied, “ Oui, citoyen, je m'appelle Smith.” He said, “ Vous vous appelez aussi, je crois, Wolfe Tone.” I replied, “ Oui citoyen, c'est mon veritable nom .” “Eh bien,” replied he, “je suis le general' Hoche.” At these words I mentioned that I had for a long time been desirous of the honor I then enjoyed to find myself in his company. He then said he presumed I ■was the author of the memorials which had been trans¬ mitted to him. I said I was. Well, said he, there are one or two points I want to consult you on. He then pro¬ ceeded to ask me, in case of the landing being effected, might he rely on finding provisions, and particularly bread? I said it would be impossible to make any ar¬ rangements in Ireland, previous to the landing, because of the surveillance of the government; but if that were once accomplished, there would be no want of provisions; that Ireland abounded in cattle; and as for bread, I saw by the Gazette that there was not only no deficiency of corn, but that she was able to supply England, in a great degree during the late alarming scarcity in that country; and 1 assured him that if the French were once in Ireland, he might rely that, whoever wanted bread, they should not, want it. He seemed satisfied with this, and proceeded tc ask me, might we count upon being able to form a pro INTERVIEW WITH H 0 C H E. 123 yisory government, eitlier of the Catholic committee, mentioned in my memorials, or of tlie chiefs of the Defenders ? I thought I saw an opening here to come at the number of troops intended for us, and replied that that would depend on the force which might be landed; if that force were but trifling, I could not pretend to say how they might act; but if it was considerable, I had no doubt of their co-operation. “ Undoubtedly,” replied he, “ men will not sacrifice themselves when they do not see a reasonable prospect of support; but if I go, you may be sure I will go in sufficient force.”- He then asked, did I think ten thousand men would decide them? I answered, undoubtedly; but that early in the business the minister had spoken to me of two thousand, and that I had replied that such a number would effect nothing. Ho, replied he, they would be overwhelmed before any one could join them. I was glad to hear him give that opinion, as it was precisely what I had stated to the minister. lie then .asked me what I thought of the priests, or was it likely they would give us any trouble ? I replied, I certainly did not calculate on their assistance, but neither did I think they would be able to give us any effectual opposi¬ tion ; that their influence over the minds of the common people was exceedingly diminished of late. I explained all this at some length, and concluded by saying that, in prudence, we should avoid as much as possible shocking their prejudices unnecessarily; and, that with common discretion, I thought we might secure their neutrality at least, if not their support. I mentioned this merely as my opinion, but added, that in the contrary event, I was 124 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. satisfied it would be absolutely impossible for them to take tbe people out of our bands. We then came to the army. He asked me how I thought they would act ? I replied, for the regulars I could not pretend to say, but that they were wretched bad troops; for the militia, I hoped and believed, that when we were once organized, they would not only not oppose us, but come over to the cause of their country en masse; nevertheless, I desired him to calculate on their opposition, and make his arrangements accord¬ ingly; that it was the safe policy, and if it became necessary, it was so much gained. He said he would undoubtedly make his arrangements so as to leave nothing to chance that could be guarded against; that he would come in force, and bring great quantities of arms, ammuni¬ tion, stores, and artillery; and for his own reputation, see that all the arrangements were made on a proper scale. He then said there was one important point remaining, on which he desired to be satisfied; and that was, what form of government we would adopt on the event of our success ? I was going to answer him with great earnest¬ ness, when General Clarke entered to request we would come to dinner with citizen Carnot. We accordingly adjourned the conversation to the apartment of the pres¬ ident, where we found Carnot and one or two more. Hoche, after some time, took me aside, and repeated his question. I replied, 1 Most undoubtedly a republic.’ He asked again, was I sure? I said, as sure as I could be of any thing; that I knew nobody in Ireland who dreamed of any other system, nor did I believe there was any body who dreamt of monarchy. He asked me, was there nc COUNCIL WITH HOCHE AND CARNOT. 125 danger of the Catholics setting up one of their chiefs for king? I replied, ‘Not the smallest,’and that there were no chiefs among them of that kind of eminence.” This question was often put to Tone, and he always answered, that Ireland, if free, would become a republic. He afterward said to Clarke, that “as to royalty and aristocracy, they were both odious in Ireland to that degree, that he apprehended much more a general massacre of the gentry, and a distribution of the entire of their property, than the establishment of any form of govern¬ ment that would perpetuate their influence; that he hoped this massacre would not happen, and that he, for one, would do all in his power to prevent it, because he did not lik e to spill the blood even of the guilty; at the same time that the pride, cruelty, and oppression of the Irish aristoc¬ racy were so great, that he apprehended every excess from the just resentment of the people.” At the same time he thought the French would act wisely, not to dictate the form of government to the Irish. He wished them to come, not as conquerors, but as liberators, to assist Ireland to gain her own independence, as they had assisted America. There was a very natural jealousy in Ireland of foreign interference, and Tone was careful to guard the Directory from a false impression. “ Carnot joined us here with a pocket map of Ireland in his hand, and the conversation became pretty general between Clarke, Hoche, and him, every one else having left the room. I said scarcely any thing, as I wished to listen. Hoche related to Carnot the substance of what had passed between him and me. When he mentioned his 126 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. anxiety as to bread, Carnot laughed, and said, 1 There is plenty of beef in Ireland; if you can not get bread, you must eat beef.’ They soon went off to dinner,—Carnot saying, ‘ It will be, to be sure, a most brilliant operation.’ ” Tone sat down to cline with Madame Carnot and her family, with a number of officers of the Republic. After coffee was served, they rose, and Carnot, Hoche, Truguet, the minister of Marine, Lacuee, a member of the Council of Ancients, and the chosen friend of Carnot, and Clarke, retired to hold a council on Irish affairs. Tone walked with Lagarde the secretaire general in the gardens of the Luxembourg, where they listened to a symphony per¬ formed in the apartments of La Reveilhere Lepaux, one of the Directory, who had concerts continually, taking music as his resource after the fatigues of his business, which were immense. At nine the council broke up, and Tone and Clarke walked away together. Tone adds to his account of this interview:—“Hoche has a famous cut of a sabre down his forehead, eyebrow, and one side of his nose. He was pretty near the enemy when he got that, and luckily it does not at all disfigure him. He is but two-and-thirty. Jourdan five-and-thirty, Buonaparte twenty-nine, Moreau about thirty, and Piche- gru, who is the oldest of all, about six-and-thirty. The French have no old generals in their service; it is their policy to employ young men, and the event has shown they are right.” He adds also:—“ Hoche praised Sir Sydney Smith, now prisoner in Paris, as a gallant officer. He said, ‘ 11 a unc rude reputation en Bretagne and that there was hardly A COUNCIL OF WAR. 127 a cape or headland on the coast which was not marked by some of his exploits. I like to hear one brave man praise another. Carnot said they would take care of him for some time, and that he should certainly not be ex¬ changed.” In the life of Curran an interview between the same personages is thus strikingly related:— “ Soon after the question of an expedition to Ireland had been left to the decision of Carnot, Clarke and Hoche, they named an evening to meet Tone at the palace of the Luxembourg. Tone arrived at the appointed hour, eight o’clock. He was ushered into a sjhendid apartment. Shortly after the director and the generals made their ap¬ pearance : they bowed coldly, but civilly, to Tone, and al¬ most immediately retired, without apology or explanation, through a door opposite to that by which they had en¬ tered. Tone was a good deal struck by so unexpected a reception, but his surprise increased when ten o’clock ar¬ rived, without the appearance of, or message of any kind, from those on whom all his hopes seemed to depend. The clock struck eleven, twelve, one—all was still in the palace; the steps of the sentinels on their posts without, alone interrupted the dead silence that prevailed within. Tone paced the room in considerable anxiety; not even a servant had entered, of whom to inquire his way out, or if the director and the generals had retired. About two o’clock the folding-doors were suddenly thrown open; Carnot, Clarke, and Iloche entered; their countenances brightened, and the coldness and reserve, so observable at eight o’clock, had vanished. Clarke advanced quickly to 128 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Tone, and taking him cordially by tbe band, said, ‘ Citi¬ zen! I congratulate you ; we go to Ireland Tbe others did tbe same; and baying fixed tbe time to meet again, tbe persons engaged in this remarkable transaction, separated.” CHAPTER X. Tone in Hoche’s Staff.—Accompanies him to the Army.—Armament pre¬ paring at Brest.—A Spy and a Ruse.—Tone enlists Irish Prisoners. —Emissary sent to Dublin.—The Troops embark.—The Expedition sails.—Reaches Bantry Bay.—Driven off the Coast by a Gale of Wind. From this time the most intimate friendship sprang up between Hoche and Tone. They were of abont the same age; both brave and ambitions of glory, and both now bent on the accomplishment of the same object. The Directory immediately gave Tone a commission in the French army. He was to serve in the infantry with the rank of chef de brigade, which answers to that of colonel, and receives the same pay. Clarke embraced him on giv¬ ing him the brevet, and saluted him as a brother officer. Tone says, “ My heart was so full I could hardly reply.” He was soon after made adjutant to Hoche, and remained in his staff until his death. Hoche entered with his characteristic ardor into the projected Irish invasion. Meeting Tone one day in the street he took him in his carriage to introduce him to Gen¬ eral Cherin, with whom he was to travel when he set off for the army. “ On the way I told Hoche that I hoped the glory was reserved for him to amputate the right hand 130 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of England forever; and I mentioned tire immense re¬ sources in all respects, especially in men and provisions, •which Ireland furnished to that country, and of which I trusted we were now on the eve of depriving her. Hoche observed, that his only anxiety was about finding subsist¬ ence for the troops. I replied that as to that I hoped there would be no difficulty; that it was Ireland which victualed the navy, the West Indies, and the foreign gar¬ risons of England ; and I reminded him of what I had be¬ fore told him, that in the late scarcity, so far from diffi¬ culties at home, she exported vast quantities of corn to that country. I went on to say, that my difficulty was not how to subsist, but how to get there, for that I dreaded that eternal fleet. Hoche laid his hand on my arm and said, ‘ Ne craignez rien, nous y irons; vous pouvez y comp¬ ter; ne craignez rien' I answered, that being so, I had not a doubt of our success. Hoche then asked me, ‘ Who were the Orange boys ?’ I explained it to him, adding that it was an affair of no consequence, which we would settle in three days after our arrival. £ Oh, ’ said he, ‘ ce n'est rien.' I then told him I hoped he would take care to have a sufficiency of cannoniers and artillery, of which we were quite unprovided. ‘ You may depend upon it,’ said he, 1 that I will bring enough, and of the best, particularly the light artillery.’ He then asked me if we had many great plains in Ireland ? I said not; that in general the face of the country was intersected with fences, and de¬ scribed the nature of an Irish ditch and hedge. By this time we arrived at Cherin’s, who was indisposed and in bed. I was introduced by Hoche, and I remember now TONE IN HOCHE’S STAFF. 131 he is one of the generals with whom I dined at Carnot’s. After a short conversation (in which the time was fixed that we set off), I took my leave, Hoche and Cherin desir¬ ing me to call on them in the mean time, without the cere¬ mony of sending up my name.” Hoche was now appointed to the command of the army of the West, and Tone accompanied him to Eennes. He was here in the family of the commander-in-chief, and dined daily with the staff. He says, “We are all lodged in the palace of the former bishop of Eennes, a superb mansion, but not much the better for the Eevolution.” The expedition to Ireland had been decided upon, and preparations were going forward with all dispatch. The attention of Europe began to be fixed on the mighty arma¬ ment that was preparing at Brest. Hoche was disciplining the men, collecting cannoniers and munitions of war, and pushing forward the equipment of the ships. It was said that he had selected for the expedition the dlite of the army of the Ocean, which consisted of 117,000 men. He had the satisfaction of having under him a corps of bronzed veterans, who had fought with him in the war in La Vendee, who were “steeled against every hardship, having been well used to dispense with clothes, shoes, or even bread.” On the anniversary of the fifth year of the Ee- public, the army was drawn out in review before their chief. It was a brilliant sight. When the parade was over, Hoche met Tone, and asked him if he heard the can¬ nonade. Tone said he did. “Ay,” said Hoche, “you will soon hear enough of that.” “ The sooner the better,” was the reply. 132 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. While at Rennes Tone observed with some -uneasi¬ ness that Hoclie treated him with reserve, especially in the presence of others. But the mystery was soon ex¬ plained. It was important that Tone should preserve as far as possible a strict incognito. He passed in the army as Mr. Smith, an American. If the general were to dis¬ tinguish him by particular attention, it would be observed and set people to making inquiries. This was explained to Tone privately by a confidential friend of the general, which not only removed his uneasiness, but delighted him by the evidence which it afforded of Hoche’s prudence and considerate regard for the safety of his adjutant. The same friend assured Tone “that both the Executive Di¬ rectory and Hoche were perfectly satisfied as to who and what he was, through a channel which he was not at lib¬ erty to inform him of, but that he might be perfectly easy on the score of his credit.”* In private the manner of the general was as cordial as ever. Just before leaving for Brest, Tone met Hoche alone walking in the gallery. The general immediately came up to him, and asked if he had occasion for any thing before his departure, desiring him, if he was in want of any thing, to apply to him as his friend, without any reserve. During this stay at Rennes Tone’s constant companion was Col. Shee, a native of Ireland, and uncle of General Clarke. . He was nearly sixty years old, and had served as an officer of cavalry thirty-five years. He had been secre- * Perhaps this information came through Arthur O’Connor and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whom Hoche had just met on the frontiers of Switzer¬ land. ARMAMENT PREPARING AT BREST. 133 tary to the Duke of Orleans who was guillotined, and had many tales to tell of the times before and since the Devolution. The scene of preparation was now transferred to Brest. Tone’s heart bounded at the sight of the sea. He says, “ Every day I Avalk for an hour alone on the ramparts, and look down on the fleet Avhich rides below. There are about fifty sail of ships of Avar of all sizes, of which perhaps twenty are of the line.” It Avas a magnificent sight. His joy and pride Avere however somewhat damped by the thought of his wife and children, Avho Avere at that moment probably on their voyage to France, exposed to the dan¬ gers of a winter passage. Tone was a most fond husband and father. Even amid the terrible “notes of prepara¬ tion,” he could not but think of them as he looked off upon the sea. He Avrites in his journal, “I lie awake reg¬ ularly half the night, listening to the wind, every puff of which makes me shudder.” In fact his family were then on the ocean. While Tone was on board the French fleet on his way to Ireland, his family in an American ship al¬ most crossed his path in the British channel. Happily they landed in safety. The only thing which noAV delayed the expedition was the Avant of seamen. The Directory had given the most imperative orders to have them impressed all along the coast. But the marine still seemed backward. The minis¬ ter of marine, Truguet, had a favorite project for an ex¬ pedition to India, and perhaps on this account felt indiffer¬ ent about the invasion of Ireland. The admiral of the fleet, who probably dreaded a battle at sea, with the Eng- 134 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. lish, started all sorts of objections. But Hoclie was not to be trifled with.. He bad tbe admiral cashiered, and an¬ other put in his place who would obey orders. Then the work went on. It was understood that the English were off Ushant with sixteen sail of the line, and ten frigates, and it seemed altogether improbable that the French fleet could pass the channel without an engagement. Hoche had formed the most desperate resolution of fighting to the last if they met the English fleet. Tone writes: “The general has no confidence in the marine; but is deter¬ mined, if we fall in with the English fleet, that fight they shall; for as the military will be at least two to one on board, he will give it out in general orders that the first man, officer or seaman, of whatever grade or rank, that offers to flinch, shall be instantly shot on the quarter-deck. This is stout of Hoche. I had rather however that our valor was tried on terra firma, for I am of opinion with the Turks, ‘ That God has given the sea to the infidels, and the land to the true believers.’ “ 1 If we meet with a privateer, or a lofty man-of-war, We will not stop to wrangle, to chatter, nor to jar.’ If we fall in with the English, we must fight them at close quarters, and crowd our tops, poops and quarter-deck with musketry. It is our only chance, but against su¬ perior numbers that will not do.” While in Brest, Tone was busily engaged writing ad¬ dresses to the Irish people, to the militia, and to the Irish seamen serving in the British navy.* He prepared a gen- * In his address to the people of Ireland, Tone tells them to approach RUSE WITH A SPY. 135 eral proclamation for tlie French t& publish on landing. While this was in the hands of the printer, a gentleman with a foreign accent called and requested to see a copy. The printer refused. The stranger then offered him a sum of money, finally raising it to five hundred louis. No sooner was he gone, than the printer hastened to Hoche, to inform him of the circumstance. Iloche told him to let the spy have the proclamation, but that he first wished to alter a few words. He took his pen and crossed out “ Ireland and Irish,” and inserted Portugal and Por¬ tuguese ; and of this a few copies were struck off, which were handed to the stranger. The ruse was successful. The proclamation was immediately transmitted to England, and is said to have so completely deceived Pitt that he that gigantic figure by which they have been so long kept in awe, and to see if their fears have not magnified her power. He thus calculates the chances of successful rebellion :— “ But granting she is formidable; so are we. If she is near us, we are near her. Our people are brave, and hardy and poor ; we are not debauched by luxury and sloth; we are used to toil, and fatigue, and scanty living; our miseries, for which we have to thank England, have well prepared us to throw off her yoke. We can dispense with feather beds, with roast beef, and strong beer; war, if it makes any change in the diet of our peasants, must change it for the better; they may in that case taste meat and bread, delicacies to them, and which a great majority of them seldom see ; we can sleep in our bogs, where our enemies will rot, and subsist on our mountains, where they will starve. We fight for our liberties; they fight because they are ordered to do so. We are at home; they are in an enemy’s country. Under these circumstances, and especially with a just and righteous cause, he must be timid indeed who could doubt of success. England, with Ireland at her back, is undoubtedly formidable; England, with Ireland neuter, is still respectable; but England, with Ireland in arms against her, I do not despair of seeing humbled in the dust.” 136 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. directed tlie British "squadrons to keep particular watch upon Portugal; and when he afterward heard that the French fleet was off the coast of Ireland, he treated the report with derision.* It was probably owing to this cir¬ cumstance that the expedition went and returned without meeting the English fleet. As there was great want of men for the ships, by order of the general, Tone went among the prisoners of war, and offered their liberty to as many as would serve aboard the French fleet. He says, “ Sixty accepted the offer, of whom fifty were Irish. I made them drink heartily before they left the prison; and they were mustered and went aboard the same evening. I never saw the national character stronger marked than in the careless gayety of those poor fellows. Half naked and half starved as I found them, the moment that they saw the wine before them, all their cares were forgotten. The Englishmen balanced, and several of them asked in the true style of their country, ‘ What would I give them ?’ It is but justice to others to observe, that they said nothing should ever tempt them to fight against their king and country. I told them they were perfectly at liberty to make their choice, as I put no constraint on any man. In the event, of about one hundred English, ten men and boys offered them¬ selves ; and of about sixty Irish, fifty; not one Scotch¬ man, though there were several in the prison. When I called for the wine, my English recruits begged for something to eat at the same time, which I ordered for * Tone’s Life, yol. ii. p. 218. Curran’s Life, p. 218. AN EMISSARY SENT TO IRELAND. 137 them. Poor Pat never thought of eating; but when his head was a little warm with the wine, he was very urgent to be permitted to go among the Englishmen, and flog those who refused to enter; which of course I prevented, though with some little difficulty. ‘Arrah, blood and ’ounds, captain dear, won’t you let me have one knock at the blackguards?’ I thought myself on Ormond quay once more. Oh, if we once arrive safe on the other side, what soldiers we will make of our poor fellows! They all said they hoped I was going with them wherever it was. I answered, that I did not desire one man to go where I was not ready to show the way; and they replied with three cheers. It is to be observed that I never men¬ tioned the object of the expedition; they entered the service merely from the adventurous spirit of the nation, and their hatred of the English, without any idea that they had a chance of seeing Ireland again.” Meanwhile news arrived from Ireland which excited to the highest pitch the hopes of the French. At one time, a rumor reached Brest that the Revolution was already effected, that the people had risen and overpowered the government. Hoche was in rapture. As he met Tone, he embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks, after the manner of the French, and wishing him joy of the event. The report however proved premature. A more authentic statement was derived from an American who had just been in Ireland. He said that every body was expecting the French; that the gentry were making preparations to receive them; that every magistrate was raising twenty 138 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. men to preserve the peace in place of the militia, should these last be ordered to the coast; but that it was univer¬ sally supposed that they would join the French immedi¬ ately, and that a great majority of them were even sworn to do so. He said that every day persons were arrested. The sum of all was, that Ireland was in a state of excite¬ ment, bordering on insurrection, and that nothing but the French were needed to settle the affair at a blow. Hoche thought it important at this moment to send an agent to Ireland. There was an American vessel lying in the harbor, which would sail at a minute’s warning, and also bring back the person who should go. Hoche wished intelligence of the state of the country up to the last moment. Tone named his aid-de-camp McSheehy. It was instantly decided upon. The next day Tone brought him to his lodgings, and made him change his dress from head to foot, equipping him with shirts, boots, stockings, waistcoats, coat, and cloak, all either Irish, or made after the Irish fashion. He then gave him the address of two persons in Dublin, Bond and McCormick, whom he wished him to see, and told him of certain cir¬ cumstances, known only to themselves, by which he could satisfy them that he had seen Tone. Hoche directed him to go to these persons, and learn from them as much as he could of the state of the country at that moment, the temper of the people, the number and disposition of the troops, whether the French were expected or desired, and if so, in what part particularly. He then gave McSheehy twenty louis, and he sailed that night. Tone had a further object. Many of his friends in Ireland were in THE TROOPS EMBARK. 139 prison, and in danger of being executed for treason. He charged McSheehy to tell Bond and McCormick to have the prisoners profit by every possible delay, which the forms of law could give to postpone their trial, as he had the strongest hopes that in a short time the French would be there to rescue them. He then walked with him down to the quay, where he saw him join the captain, who was in waiting. It was eight o’clock, and a fine moonlight night. In a little while the vessel was standing out of the harbor. The emissary reached Dublin, accomplished his mission, and returned in safety. This officer was after¬ ward killed in the battle of Eylau. Tone had another adjutant in this expedition, Rapatelle, an officer of the staff, who in 1813 accompanied Moreau to the camp of the allies. Moreau died in his arms. In truth the moment of action was approaching. On the second of December Tone received orders to embark on board the Indomptable of eighty guns. The captain, Bedout, was a Canadian. He had been used to desperate battle on the ocean. Tone had requested to serve with the grenadiers in the advanced guard, as being the post of danger and of honor, but the general, while in the hand¬ somest manner he acknowledged the gallantry of the offer, declared that his arrangements required him to be imme¬ diately about his person. Once on board, Tone writes, “We are all in high spirits, and the troops are as gay as if they were going to a ball.” With the true spirit of Frenchmen they danced every evening on the quarter¬ deck. On the eve of departure they received a visit from 140 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. another ship:—“ General Watrin paid ns a visit this eve¬ ning with the band of his regiment, and I went down into the great cabin where the officers met, and where the music was playing. I was delighted with the effect it seemed to have on them. The cabin was ceiled with the firelocks intended for the expedition, the candlesticks were bayonets stuck in the table, the officers were in their jackets; some playing cards, others singing to the music; others conversing, and all in the highest spirits—once again I was delighted with the scene. At length Watrin and his band went off, and as it was a beautiful moonlight night, the effect of the music on the water, diminishing as they receded from our vessel, was delicious.” The next morning presented a more cheering sight—• the signal flying to get under weigh, and the ships heaving up their anchors. It was the 16th of December that the fleet put to sea. It consisted of 17 sail of the line, 13 frigates, with a number of corvettes and transports, making in all 43 sail, and carrying an army of fifteen thousand men, commanded by the ablest general of France, next to Napoleon, and provided with an immense park of artillery, and all the munitions of war. In passing out of the har¬ bor, they had to go through a narrow and dangerous strait in the night. One line of battle ship was lost on the rocks, and the others were in imminent peril. Captain Bedout said that he had rather stand three such engagements as that in which he was taken, than pass again through the Raz at night. But the morning came, and they were clear of shore, and bearing away into the broad Atlantic. Un¬ locked from land, the fleet now spread its wings. Trans- THEY REACH THE IRISH COAST. 141 ports, frigates, and tliree-deckers, far and near, a gallant sight, went careering on the sea. But the fleet was scat¬ tered. Not more than half were together. Another morn¬ ing they descried a sail on the horizon. A sail! a sail! The signal of a fleet in the offing passed from ship to ship. The officers gathered on deck. Spy-glasses were turned to the horizon. What could they be ? French or Eng¬ lish ? Tone writes, “ if this fleet prove to be our com¬ rades, it will be famous news, if it be the English let them come, we will do our best, and I think the Indomptable will not be the worst fought ship in the squadron.” Hap¬ pily, as they drew near, the French flag was descried float¬ ing from the distant masts. The fleet was now together, thirty-five sail. But seven or eight ships were still mis¬ sing. By a strange arrangement both the commander-in- chief and the admiral of the fleet had been embarked in a frigate, the Fraternity, and this ship was gone. The ab¬ sence of Hoche was more than the loss of half the fleet. The expedition proceeded without its general. It soon made Cape Clear, and proceeded up the Channel. The outline of the coast became distinctly visible. Tone first observed snow on the mountains—then old castles on the shore. The weather was delicious, the wind fair, and they were drawing up to the coast under easy sail. The In¬ domptable approached so near that Tone says he could toss a biscuit on shore. A landing might have been effected in a few hours. But the command had devolved upon Grouchy. This irresolute general hesitated to land in the absence of Hoche, and with but a part of the army. Tone writes, “ All rests now upon Grouchy, and I hope he may 142 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. turn out well. He lias a glorious game in His hands, if lie lias spirit and talent to play it. If lie succeeds, it will im¬ mortalize liim.” The want of spirit and decision in this officer, which afterward lost the battle of W aterloo, caused the failure of the expedition. “Twice,” says Shiel, “had this man the destinies of nations in his hand, and twice he abused his trust.” Grouchy afterward felt bitterly at the thought of the great opportunity which had escaped him. He was all eagerness for a second expedition. He said to Tone, that “he had shed tears of rage and vexation fifty times since, at the recollection of the opportunity of which he had been deprived ; and there was one thing which he would never pardon himself—that he did not seize Bouvet* by the collar, and throw him overboard, the moment he attempted to raise a difficulty as to the landing.” The instructions to the fleet were, in case of separation, that the ships which arrived first should cruise off the shore, till the other ships joined them. Accordingly, when close in shore, they tacked out again, and thus stood off and on. They were instructed to land in Bantry Bay. They were now off the mouth, and began to move leisurely up the bay. Tone was raging with impatience. There lay that mighty fleet, a long line of dark hulls resting on the green water, tossing up their huge bows into the air, like so many black war-horses impatient for the battle. Three or four days passed, when a council of war was called, and it was proposed to land with the portion of the army then in the bay. “ I must do Grouchy the justice,” * Bouvet was the Rear Admiral who now commanded the fleet. DRIVEN OFF BY A GALE OF WIND. 143 says Tone, “ to say, that the moment we gave our opinion in favor of proceeding, he took his part like a man of spirit; he instantly set about preparing the order of battle.” Men and guns were got ready, and the disem¬ barkation was to take place the next morning. But at two o’clock in the night, Tone was awakened by the wind. “ I rose immediately, and walked for an hour in the gal¬ lery, devoured by the most gloomy reflections. The wind continues right ahead, so that it is absolutely impossible to work up to the landing-place.” The wind increased to a gale. The sea ran high. A landing was impossible. The gale became terrific. All day and all night it blew right off shore, and finally drove them to sea. The fleet was now so scattered, as to render a landing in force impracti¬ cable, and the dispersed ships made their way back to France. In reading the account of this expedition, it seems as if Ireland had been saved to England by a miracle. Had the fifteen thousand men on board landed, with Hoche at their head, the island would have been inevitably lost. There was no force in the south of Ireland that could have resisted for a moment. A large part of the population were ready to join an invading army, and Hoche would have marched in triumph to Dublin. The young com¬ mander in one campaign would have conquered a king¬ dom. Such was the opinion of the highest military au¬ thority of the age. Said Bonaparte, “ Hoche was one of the first generals that ever France produced. He was brave, intelligent, abounding in talent, decisive and pene¬ trating. If he had landed in Ireland, he would have sue- 144 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. ceedecl. He was accustomed to civil war, had pacified La Vendee, and was well adapted for Ireland. He had a fine, handsome figure, a good address, and was prepossessing and intriguing.”* As it was, this expedition produced a powerful sensa¬ tion throughout Great Britain. The people of England had long felt secure in their insular situation, and guarded by their invincible fleets. “ That confidence in the invio¬ lability of their shores was now startled by the incontest¬ able fact, that with two British fleets in the channel, and an admiral stationed at Cork, the coasts of Ireland had been a whole fortnight at the mercy of the enemy.”f What rendered it more remarkable, was that neither in going nor returning did the French fleet meet a single English ship. It is not too much to say, that it was the narrowest escape which any part of the United Kingdom has had since the Spanish Armada. * A Voice from St. Helena. f Moore’s Life of Fitzgerald, yol. i. p. 207. CHAPTER XI. Tone goes with Hoche to the Rhine.—Dutch Fleet in the Texel.— Mu¬ tiny at the Nore.—Expedition from Holland.—Death of Hoche.— Formation of the Army of England.—Napoleon sails for Egypt. The failure of this expedition did not break the spirit of Tone. At first the reaction of his mind was great. He says, “I feel this moment like a man who is just awakened from a long, terrible dream.”* But it has been said that “none can feel themselves equal to the execution of a 2 geat design who have not once witnessed with firmness md equanimity its failure.” The Directory were not at ill disheartened at the result. Indeed the safety with vhich their fleet had traversed the seas afforded them a lew evidence of the practicability of an invasion. Hoche old Tone to assure his friends that both the French government and himself, individually, were bent as much s ever on the emancipation of Ireland ; that preparations rere making for a second attempt, which would be con- luded as speedily as the urgency of affairs would admit; * “ I see by an article in the English papers, that they were in hopes to itch the vessel on board of which I was embarked, in which case they were ind enough to promise that I should be properly taken care of.”—Tone’s oumal, Jan. 1797. G 146 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. that it was a business which the Republic would nevei give up; and that if three expeditions failed, they would try a fourth, and ever until they succeeded. For the present, however, it was necessary that the expeditior should be abandoned. The Republic had need of Hock elsewhere. He was immediately appointed to the com mand of the army of Sambre and Meuse. He invitee Tone to accompany him, as adjutant-general, and made him a present of a beautiful horse. Tone accordingly lef Paris for the Rhine. Here he was in an excellent militarj school, under one of the best masters of war in Europe Hoche was now in a position to display his great military genius, no longer conducting a civil war, but at the heat of an army of 70,000 men, matched with an equal foe The hostile armies were separated only by a river. Toni was stationed at Bonn, on the banks of the “ castlee Rhine,” opposite the famous Seven Mountains. “ Fron the windows of the dining-room I saw the advanced post of the enemy on the other side of the Rhine.” It was not the least curious circumstance in the histor of this family, who seemed born to adventure, that, on tli voyage from America, an attachment had sprung u between a Swiss merchant and Tone’s sister. On thei arrival in Europe they were married, and were now livin at Hamburg. Tone says, “ They will, I believe, settl in Hamburg; so there is one more of our family dis persed. I am sure if there were five quarters of the globe there would be one of us perched on the fifth.” Tone’ family, who had landed at the mouth of the Elbe, wer with them. As soon as he could be spared from th A SECOND EXPEDITION PROJECTED. 147 army he flew to meet them. Scarcely had he left the camp when the sound of a cannonade startled the echoes of the hills. That very day Hoche gained the memorable battle of Neuwied. He crossed the Rhine in face of the Austrian army, and was advancing on a career of victory which promised to be as brilliant as that of Napoleon in Lombardy, when he was stopped by news that the pre¬ liminaries of peace had been signed. No sooner was the war ended on the Rhine than Hoche again turned his thoughts to Ireland. Scarcely had Tone returned to the army before the subject was reopened. He found also in the camp, to his great joy, an old friend by the name of Lewines, an attorney of Dublin, who had come from Ireland to press the measure of a new invasion. Lewines stated that the organization of the people was complete; that there were a hundred thousand United Irishmen in the north alone; and that they had a large quantity of arms, and at least eight pieces of cannon, con¬ cealed. Every thing was ready, and nothing was wanting out a foreign force to land in the country, and set the ball n motion. His instructions were to apply to France, Lolland, and Spain. Hoche gave them the strongest issurances that the business should be taken up on a grand scale. The news that Austria was suing for peace had ndeed put England in the mood for negotiation. Lord lalmcsbury was already at Lisle. But Hoche told them sot to be discouraged by the arrival of a British nego- iator, for that the Directory were determined to make no teace but on conditions which would put it out of the 148 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. power of England longer to arrogate to lierself the com merce of the world, and dictate her laws to all the marl time powers. He communicated to them another piece o] news not less exciting, that an expedition for Ireland ha( already been prepared in Holland. The Hutch governor General Daendels, and Admiral Dewinter had long felt, desire to perform some achievement, which should rescu Holland from that State of oblivion into which she hat fallen in Europe. At first the Dutch government ha< proposed to invade England, to effect a diversion in favo of the French, who, they hoped, would have been ii Ireland. How, circumstances being changed, they ha< resolved to go directly to Ireland. For this purpose, the; had by the greatest exertions got together at the Texe sixteen sail of the line, and ten frigates, all ready for set with fifteen thousand troops and eighty pieces of artillery and pay for the whole for three months. For a moment difficulty arose, which was only removed by the magnt nimity of Hoche. The French minister of Marine ha demanded that five thousand French troops should b embarked in place of five thousand Dutch. The matte was one of much delicacy. On the one hand, it was high! important to have Hoche and his grenadiers; but on th other, it was natural and it was right that the Dutc r government, after such exertions, should wish to have a the glory of the expedition. Hoche saw their embarras; tf ment. He instantly came forward, upon his own respor sibility, and withdrew the demand of the French ministe: The generosity of Hoche in this act did him the greates honor. “ When it is considered,” says Tone, “ that Hocb : DUTCH FLEET IN THE TEXEL. 149 has a devouring passion for fame; that his great object, on which he has endeavored to establish his reputation, is the destruction of the power of England; that he has for two pears, in a great degree, devoted himself to our business, ind made the greatest exertions, including our memorable 3xpedition, to emancipate us; that he sees at last the ousiness likely to be accomplished by another, and of course, all the glory ravished from him,—I confess his renouncing the situation which he might command is an effort of very great virtue. It is true he is doing exactly vhat an honest man and a good citizen ought to do, pre¬ ferring the interests of his country to his own private dews ; that, however, does not prevent my regarding his conduct with great admiration, and I shall never forget it. “ It was easy to see the most lively satisfaction on all heir faces, at this declaration of General Hoche. General laendels especially was beyond measure delighted. They old us then they hoped all would be ready in a fortnight, .key hoped that either Lewines or I would be of the xpedition, as our presence -with the general would be in- ispensable. To which Hoche replied that I was ready to o, and he made the offer on my part in a manner eculiarly agreeable to my feelings.” He afterward told 'one privately, that the Dutch army was much better lan it had been at the commencement of the war, and specially that Daendels was an excellent officer, and as rave as Ctesar. The following conversation discloses another rivalship hich at that time existed in the French army. As loche and Tone were about to part, “ I took occasion,” 150 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. -: - :- says tlie latter, “to speak on a subject which had weighed very much upon my mind, I mean the degree of influence which the French might be disposed to arrogate to them¬ selves in Ireland, and which I had great reason to fear would be greater than we might choose to allow them. In the Gazette of that day there was a proclamation of Bona¬ parte, addressed to the government of Genoa, which I thought most grossly improper and indecent, as touching on the indispensable rights of the people. I read the most obnoxious passages to Hoche, and observed, that if Bona¬ parte commanded in Ireland, and were to publish there so indiscreet a proclamation, it would have a most ruinous effect; that in Italy such dictation might pass, but never in Ireland, where we understood our rights too well to submit to it. Hoche answered me, “I understand you, but you may be at ease in that respect; Bonaparte has been my scholar, but he shall never be my master.” He then lanched out into a very severe critique on Bonaparte’s conduct, which certainly has latterly been terribly indis¬ creet, to say no worse of it, and observed, that as to his victories, it was easy to gain victories with such troops as he commanded, especially when the general made no diffi¬ culty to sacrifice the lives of his soldiers, and that these victories had cost the Bepublic 200,000 men. A great deal of what Hoche said was true, but I could see at the bottom of it a very great jealousy of Bonaparte.” In July, 1797, we find Tone on board a second mighty armament for the invasion of Ireland. A few sentences gleaned from his journal will show the prospects of the new expedition. FLEET IN THE TEXEL. 151 “July 8. Arrived early in tlie morning at the Texel, and went immediately on board the Admiral’s ship, the Vryheid, of 74 guns, a superb vessel. Found General Daendel aboard, who presented me to Admiral Dewinter, who commands the expedition. I am exceedingly pleased with both; there is a frankness and candor in their man¬ ners which is highly interesting. “ July 10. I have been boating about the fleet, and aboard several of the vessels: they are in very fine condi¬ tion, incomparably better than the fleet at Brest, and I learn from all hands that the best possible spirit reigns in both soldiers and sailors. Admiral Duncan, who com¬ mands the English fleet off the Texel, sent in yesterday an officer with a flag of truce, apparently with a letter, but in fact to reeonnoiter our force. Dewinter was even with him: for he detained his messenger, and sent back the an¬ swer by an officer of his own, with instructions to bring back an exact account of the force of the enemy. “July 11. Our flag of truce is returned, and the Eng¬ lish officer released. Duncan’s fleet is of eleven sail of the line, of which three are three-deckers. “July 14. Several boats full of troops have passed us to-day, going on board the different vessels; the men are in the highest spirits, singing national songs, and cheering the general as they pass ; it is a noble sight, and I found it inexpressibly affecting. Daendel assures me that in the best days of the French Devolution he never witnessed greater enthusiasm than reigns at present in the army.” Never perhaps was the English Empire in greater dan¬ ger than at this moment. “ Pitt,” says Thiers, “ was in the 152 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. greatest consternation.” Austria, liis faithful continental ally, was about to withdraw from the contest, while to France and Holland, Spain was to be added, to the number of her enemies. Besides the formidable armament in the Texel, similar expeditions were preparing at Brest and at Cadiz. A gale off shore might drive the block¬ ading squadrons a hundred leagues to sea, and before they could return, a Butch, a French, and a Spanish squadron might bear away for Ireland. Besides, an event had just occurred which threatened the naval ascendency of Eng¬ land more than the hostile squadrons. It was the great mutiny on board the English fleets at Portsmouth and the Hore. The right arm of England was paralyzed by this stroke. For weeks those fleets were in a state of rebellion. The red flag was hoisted at the mast-head, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the English government could keep any ships in the channel. Had the French squadron been ready at the moment, it would have found the ocean clear. It was even probable, had a revolution been effected in Ireland, that the Irish sailors in the British navy, would, as they had threatened, steer many of the English ships of war into the Irish ports. The English fleet lying at the Hore was still in a state of mutiny. How was the time for invasion. Great anxi¬ ety was felt to seize the favorable moment, and to sail for Ireland with the first fair wind. The English still mus¬ tered a formidable force of ships of the line off the Texel, but in the high discipline of the Dutch navy, they did not fear an engagement. Dewinter felt the spirit of Yan EXPEDITION FROM HOLLAND. 153 fromp beat in bis bosom, and like tbat famous Dutch idmiral, longed to sweep the seas with his broom. “July 16. The admiral summoned this morning all he admirals and captains of the fleet, and gave them their ast instructions, which were, that the frigates of forty-four mns should fall into the line; that they should fight to he last extremity, even to sinking of their vessels, in vhich case they were to take to their boats; that if any ■aptain were to attempt to break the line and hang back, he others should immediately fire on him. This is reso- ute of Dewinter, and I have every reason to think his fleet (fill second him. He has sent off a courier to the govern- nent to announce all this, and if the wind springs up in •ur favor, we will set off instantly.”—“ All is ready, and lothing is wanting but a fair wind. We are riding at ingle anchor.” “ There never was, and never will be, such an expedi- ion as ours, if it succeeds; it is not merely to determine /hich of two despots shall sit upon a throne, or whether n island shall belong to this or that state,—it is to change be destiny of Europe; to emancipate one, perhaps three, ations ; to open the sea to the commerce of the world ; ) found a new empire ; to demolish an ancient one; to ubvert a tyranny of six hundred years. And all this angs to-day upon the wind. I can not express the anxiety feel. Well, no matter! I can do nothing to help my- fif, and that aggravates my rage. Our ships exercise at reat guns and small arms every day; they fire in general icomparably well, and it is a noble spectacle.” Again the elements fought for England. Week after 154 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. week tlie wind continued to blow against them. Thej were consuming their provisions, and must soon disembark The mutiny at the Nore was quelled, and Admiral Duncar was receiving reinforcements. “July 28, 6 o’clock. I am now alone in the greal cabin, and I see from the window twenty-two sail of Englisl vessels, anchored within a league of our fleet. It is impos sible to express the variety of ideas which shoot across my mind at this moment. I think I should suffer less k the middle of a sea-fight; and the wind is still foul Suspense is more terrible than danger. Little as I am of i Quixote, loving as I do, to distraction, my wife and deares' babies, I wish to heaven we were this moment under weigi to meet the enemy, with whom we should be up in ai hour. It is terrible to see the two fleets so near, and t< find ourselves so helpless. The sea is just now as smootl as a mill-pond. Ten times, since I began this note, I havi lifted my eyes to look at the enemy. Well, it can not hi that this inaction wall continue long. I am now aboarc twenty days, and we have not had twenty minutes of i fair wind to carry us out.” “ On the 80th, in the morning early, the wind was fan the signal given to prepare to get under weigh, and ever 1 thing ready, when, at the very instant we were about ti weigh the anchor, and put to sea, the wind chopped abou and left us. In an hour after, the wind hauled round I the south, and blew a gale with thunder and lightning; si it was well we were not caught in the shoals. At last i fixed in the south-west, almost the very worst quarter pos sible, where it has remained steadily ever since. Not to THE EXPEDITION ABANDONED. 155 lose time, the Admiral sent out an officer with a letter addressed to Admiral Duncan, but, in fact, to reconnoiter the enemy’s force. He returned yesterday with a report that Duncan’s fleet is of seventeen sail of the line, including two or three three-deckers, which is pleasant. There seems to be a fate in this business. Five weeks the English fleets were paralyzed by the mutinies at Portsmouth, Ply¬ mouth, and the Nore. The sea was open, and nothing to prevent both the Dutch and French fleets to put to sea. Well, nothing was ready, that precious opportunity, which we can never expect to return, was lost; and now that at last we are ready here, the wind is against us, the mutiny is quelled, and we are sure to be attacked by a superior force.” Week after week passed, and the wind still blew from the same quarter, steady as the trade-wind, until near the close of August; the provisions were nearly exhausted, and the troops were disembarked, and the expedition, at least for a time, abandoned. Early in September, Tone returned to the army on the Rhine. But a few weeks after Tone had left the fleet, and when Admiral Duncan was still farther reinforced, the Dutch government had the inexplicable folly to hazard an engagement. The result was the victory of Camperdown, one of the most memorable in the naval annals of Great Britain. “ Dewinter,” says Tone, “ fought like a lion, and defended himself to the last extremity; but was at length forced to strike, as were nine of his fleet out of sixteen.” About this time, Hoclie died of consumption; and with 15C THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. liim expired the last hope of aid from France. A greater loss could not have occurred to the Republic or to Ireland. At this time Iloche and Napoleon were rivals. The army was divided in its admiration between them. But Hoche was the nobler character, as he was capable of sacrificing himself to his country. He was a sincere Republican. “ This young man,” says Thiers, “ who from sergeant in the French guards, had become in one campaign comman¬ der-in-chief, loved the Republic as his mother and his benefactress. In the dungeons of the Committee of Public Safety his fondness had not cooled. In La Vendee it had been strengthened while contending with the royalists.” At the time of the conspiracy of the royalists at Paris, Hoche said to Tone, “If these rascals were to succeed and put down the government, I march my army that instant against Paris, and when I have restored the constitution, I break my sword, and never touch it afterward.” Had Hoche lived, he would probably have supported the Republic against the ambition of Bonaparte. He is perhaps the only general of France of whom Napoleon ever condescended to speak as a formidable rival.* But now he was gone—he was dead. * “ To-day, in the course of conversation, the name of Hoche having been mentioned, some one observed that at a very early age he had inspired great hope. ‘ And what is still better,’ said Napoleon, ‘ you may add that he fulfilled that hope. Hoche possessed a hostile, provoking kind of ambition. He was the sort of man who could conceive the idea of coming from Stras- burg with 25,000 men, to seize the reins of government by force.’ The Emperor added, that Hoche would ultimately either have yielded to him, or must have subdued him; and as he was fond of money and pleasure, he doubted not he would have yielded to him .”—Las Casas. DEATH OF HOCHE. 151 “ Brief, brave, and glorious was bis young career.” The republic could only testify its grief and its admiration by the pomp of funeral rites. A magnificent pageant was decreed him in the Champ de Mars. An immense con¬ course of people gazed in mournful silence at the lofty car hung in black. The army of Paris, sad and slow, followed the bier. As it swept through the streets, all eyes were turned to the head of the column, where the aged father of Iloche attended as chief mourner. The body of the youth¬ ful hero was appropriately left to sleep on the banks of the Rhine, on the field of his fame. He was buried in the same grave with General Marceau. The reader will recall the lines in Childe Harold— “ By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground, There is a small and simple pyramid, Crowning the summit of the verdant mound ; Beneath its base are heroes’ ashes hid.” With his dying breath Hoche urged upon the Directory another expedition for the invasion of Ireland. Had Car¬ not remained in the Directory, his wish might have been accomplished. But the organizer of victory had been driven from power by the jealousy of his colleagues, and France missed the powerful hand that had guided her armies. At first was held out the prospect of a more extended invasion of the British Islands. Scarcely had the expedi¬ tion of the Texel been abandoned, when it was announced that a peace with Austria was definitely concluded. The firing of cannon, and illuminated cities, proclaimed the joy- 158 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. ful tidings. Not an enemy on tlie Continent was in arms against France. England alone remained. Immediately followed tlie announcement that a grand army of England was to be formed under the command of Bonaparte, who had just returned to Paris, fresh from the glory of his Italian campaigns. In this army Tone received the appointment of adjutant-general. He had several interviews with Napo¬ leon on the subject of Ireland. Buonaparte had asked General Clarke in whom he had most confidence as to Irish affairs. Clarke answered, “ In Tone, by all means.” But Bonaparte had little knowledge of Ireland, and no idea of the importance of thus dismembering the English empire. He is even reported to have said to the Directory, “ What more do you desire from the Irish? You see that their movements already operate a powerful diversion.” His thoughts were on another quarter of the world, and ere many months had elapsed, the troops destined to invade Ireland, were on their way to Egypt. Napoleon alluded to this at St. Helena, apparently with the feeling that he had made a great mistake: “If instead of the expedition to Egypt, I had undertaken that against Ireland, what could England have done now ? On such chances depend the destinies of empires !”* * Memoirs of Las Casas. CHAPTER XII. The United Irishmen organized into a Government and an Army.— Ex¬ tent of the Society.—Secrecy.—Their Oaths.—Attempt to suppress them by Force.—The Triumvirate, Castlereagh, Clare and Carhamp- ton.—Reign of Terror in Ireland.—The State Trials.—The Struggle approaching.—Military Preparations. While “the indefatigable Tone,” as Moore calls him, was at work in France, moving heaven and earth to effect the invasion of Ireland, his confederates at home were not idle. Great events had transpired since he sailed for America. The United Irish Society, which had then just been established on a new basis, as a secret society, having for its object no longer reform, but revolution, had ex¬ tended into all parts of Ireland. Nothing could be more perfect than its organization. Every thing depended on maintaining perfect secrecy, and this was difficult in a body so widely extended. But here the admirable contrivance of their organization became apparent. The greatest dan¬ ger to be apprehended, was from strangers insinuating themselves into the society in order to betray it. To avoid the mixture of persons unknown to each other, it was fixed that no society should consist of more than twelve persons, and those as nearly as possible from the same street or neighborhood. By each of these societies of twelve a sec- 160 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. retary was cliosen, and the secretaries of five such societies formed a committee. “ Having provided hy these successive layers, as it were, of delegated authority, each exercising a superin¬ tendence over that immediately below it, for the organiza¬ tion of the several counties and populous towns, they next superadded, in each of the four provinces, a provincial committee, composed of two or sometimes three members elected from each of the county committees; and lastly, came the Executive, the apex of the system, which con¬ sisted of five persons, chosen in such a manner from the provincial committees as to leave the members of the latter in entire ignorance as to the individuals selected. Over the whole body thus organized, the Executive possessed full command, and could transmit its orders through the whole range of the Union—one member of the Executive communicating them to one member of the provincial com¬ mittee, and he again to the secretary of the county com¬ mittee, who, in like manner, passed them down through the secretaries of the baronials, and these on to the secreta¬ ries of the subordinate societies.”* In counsel, and in transmitting intelligence, no one saw any but the individ¬ ual with whom he transacted business. Thus this ad¬ mirable organization extended like a chain of wires all over Ireland, but the hands that worked them moved in the dark. To these numerous precautions was added an oath of inviolable secrecy, which was taken by every one who joined the society. Whoever is acquainted with the Irish * Moore’s Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, vol. i. p. 196. NEW ORGANIZATION.—SECRECY. 161 character, is aware that they attach a peculiar sacredness to an obligation taken with the solemnities of religion. And never was more signal proof of their fidelity given than in this conspiracy. “ Whoever reflects on this constitution,” says Thomas Addis Emmet, “ will see that it was prepared with most important views. It formed a gradually extending repre¬ sentative system, founded on universal suffrage, and fre¬ quent elections. It was fitted to a barony, county, or province, while the organization was confined within these limits. But if the whole nation adopted the system, it fur¬ nished a national government.” In these societies, the people received the political train¬ ing which was necessary to prepare them to become a na¬ tion of freemen. “ The Irish people to the amount of half a million or more, were constantly brought together in small bodies to discuss, to vote and to deliberate. The whole presented one grand system of order and subordina¬ tion.” IIow complete was the discipline maintained, is evi¬ dent from a single fact. The poorer Irish were much ad¬ dicted to intemperance. But at a signal from the Execu¬ tive, intimating that while under the influence of spirits they might disclose something affecting the safety of their comrades, the ale-houses were generally abandoned, so as to produce a very serious falling off in the revenue derived from the tax on spirits. This rigid discipline was all-important on another ac¬ count. The leaders wished to effect a change of govern¬ ment, but at the same time to maintain order. They would secure the independence of Ireland, but they would 1G2 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. not run into anarchy. They knew the confusion into which all tilings are thrown by a revolution, and this they wished to forestall, by having a new government framed to be instantly erected on the ruins of the old. They felt that Ireland by her long oppression, had been prepared for a complete political change, and the introduction of a new government. If the people were united, and stood firm, such a revolution might be effected without the shedding of blood. They had constantly before their eyes the Rev¬ olution of 1688, in which a popular general, landing in England with but a small army, gave the friends of liberty an opportunity to declare themselves, and took peaceful possession of the throne. The leaders well knew that the more perfect was their organization, the more certain would be their success, and the less blood would be shed. They could disarm the government in a moment. The confu¬ sion which intervenes between the overthrow of one gov¬ ernment, and the establishment of another, would be avoided. Ireland would pass at once from tyranny and misrule to liberty and order. The United Irish Society—or the Union, as it was called in those days—was also strong in the character and rank of those who belonged to it, as well as in numbers. The aristocracy generally stood aloof, for their interests were too closely allied with the English ascendency. But many persons of wealth, as well as men of the first talent in the nation, belonged to it. In the examination of the state-prisoners before the secret committee of the House of Lords, which took place at a later day, particular inquiry was made on this point. Said one of the committee, “ Al- STRENGTH OP THE SOCIETY. 1G3 though talent and education are to be found in the Union, jet there is no comparison, in point of property, between those who invited the French, and those who brought in King William.” “ Pardon me, sir,”—said Dr. McNeven, to whom the re¬ mark was addressed—“ I know very many who possess probably much larger properties than did Lord Danby, who signed the invitation to the Prince of Orange, or than did Lord Somers, who was the great champion of the Dev¬ olution. The property in the Union is immense; but per¬ sons in a situation to be more easily watched were not re¬ quired to render themselves conspicuous.” General Cockburn, writing to the Marquis of Anglesea, says, “I have the strongest reasons to believe, and quite sufficient to convince myself, that many persons little sus¬ pected, and whose names would astonish if disclosed, were of the United Society.” They had their agents in every part of Ireland, and in every rank. Not only amid the bogs of Connaught and Munster, but in the Castle of Dublin, in the very councils of the government, treason was at work. It is stated on the best authority, that of the late Dr. McNeven, that a general officer at that time hold¬ ing a command in the army, and even a member of the privy council, secretly favored them, and kept them in¬ formed of the proposed measures of government. In one instance a colonel in the army secretly sent money to a United Irishman who was to be tried for his life, to enable him to make his defense, and to this timely aid the pris¬ oner owed his safety. Thus the government and the Union secretly watched each other, using every precau- 1G4 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. tion to conceal tlieir own movements, and to guard against surprise. The organization of the United Irishmen resembled that of an army, and naturally suggested that it might be transformed into an army. Accordingly in 1796, as the struggle grew more open, and it became daily more prob¬ able that it must be decided by force of arms, a military organization was engrafted on the civil. This was easily done. The officers of the society received military ap¬ pointments. “The secretary of each subordinate society of twelve was transformed easily into a sergeant or cor¬ poral ; the delegate of five societies became a captain with sixty men under his command, and the member of a county committee took rank as a colonel at the head of a battalion of six hundred men.”* But a very good secretary might be a very poor officer. Therefore to watch over this great army, the appointment of all officers higher than a colonel was reserved to the Executive. They appointed the commander-in-chief, se¬ lecting for that post, as we shall soon see, an officer of great military talents. They also nominated an adjutant- general for each county. Their whole strength was half a million, and they estimated that they should be able to take the field with three hundred thousand men. With this force, disciplined and furnished with arms, they knew that the island was theirs. The two parties which divided Ireland were now fairly committed to hostilities. The government, blind and ob¬ stinate, would make no concessions. The United Irish- * Moore’s Life of Fitzgerald, vol. i. p. 197. CLARE AND CASTLEREAGH. 165 men saw no hope of redress except by force of arms. Thus they stood, looking at each other in defiance, each waiting for the other to begin. In the autumn of 1796 the government declared open war against the United Irish Society. It endeavored to crush the body by a wholesale system of arrests. Hun¬ dreds who were suspected of being members, were seized and dragged to prison. A law was passed making the ad¬ ministering illegal oaths a capital crime, and scaffolds were erected throughout the land. The man who took the lead in this effort of suppression was Lord Castlereagh. This nobleman had begun his polit¬ ical career as the advocate of liberal measures. He had been enrolled in the ranks of the Irish volunteers. In 1790, when a candidate for the representation of the county of Down, he had given the most ample pledges to support re¬ form. But he was now in power, and showed himself the most uncompromising enemy of liberal concessions. He was not ashamed to serve as inquisitor and jailer to hunt out and destroy the associates of his early political career. The government of Ireland at this time was nominally in the hands of Lord Camden, but really of a triumvirate, Clare, Castlereagh and Carhampton, who found in the viceroy an easy tool. Lord Clare was a very violent man. Yet he had some good qualities. Said McNeven, “Lord Clare was a sort of an Irishman in feeling; with all his vices, he was not of the same class as Lord Castlereagh, his blood was warm, and he was susceptible of generous emotions.” Castlereagh was a smooth-faced, calculating politician. 166 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. His conduct at this time would give the impression that he was a ruffian. And yet he had a noble air. His form was erect and commanding. His address was that of a high¬ bred man. It inspired respect, and conciliated the good opinion of those who were suffering from his relentless policy.* But his heart was cold. Ho generous impulse, no en¬ thusiasm for liberty, ever checked his remorseless career. He felt no admiration for the valor of a foe ; no pity for misfortune. He did not positively delight in blood. But having once adopted his policy, he pursued it as a matter of business, without regard to the amount of suffering which it produced. His character is well described by Lord Brougham in his Sketches of Statesmen of the Time of George III. Castlereagh and Clare were both political apostates. Carhampton, the most insignificant of the three, was a de¬ scendant of the famoixs Luttrel, whose name in Ireland is a synonym for traitor. He exercised his cruelty through the country by driving on board prison-ships hundreds, who, in the language of the day, were “ in danger of es¬ caping justice,” that is, against whom there was no proof of guilt on which even an Irish court could rest a convic¬ tion. The fate of two of this wretched triumvirate gives some color to the popular feeling in Ireland, that the vengeance of Heaven pursued them for having sold their country. Two years after the union was consummated, Lord Clare * See Teeling’s Personal Narrative of the Rebellion, for an account of Lord Castlereagh’s visit to him in prison. REIGN OF TERROR IN IRELAND. 167 was borne to his grave, amid the hootings of the people who had so long suffered from his harsh and cruel policy. His life, said Grattan, was too short for justice, but too long for his country. Lord Castlereagh, after twenty years’ longer fighting against liberty in his own country, and throughout Europe, perished by his own hand. Language is inadequate to describe the horror of the period which followed. It was in Ireland what the Eeign of Terror was in France. The jails were crowded with state-prisoners. The Habeas Corpus Act was suspended. Martial law was proclaimed. The army was distributed throughout the country in free quarters, and perpetrated every outrage of cruelty and licentiousness. The brave Sir Ralph Abercrombie, afterward so distinguished in Egypt, when he took command of the army in Ireland, declared that it was in a state of licentiousness which made it formidable to every one but the enemy. He was so sick with horror at the atrocities around him, that he wished to throw up his command. Sir John Moore was equally ap¬ palled at the barbarities of the military. But those in power connived at the work. They said, “The country must be made sick of republicanism,” The military were ordered to act without waiting for the civil power. Thus full scope was given to their brutal instincts. Under all this, the people were forced to keep silent. A gunpowder bill was passed to disarm them: a convention bill, to pre¬ vent their assembling to remonstrate. Orders were given to disperse by force any meeting of counties to petition the king. Any person suspected of sympathizing with the United Irishmen, was liable to be arrested and whipped or 1G8 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. tortured to extort confession.* Men were employed to act as spies upon their neighbors, and to report suspected persons to the government. A well-known gang of in¬ formers was kept about the castle, called the Battalion of Testimony. Servants were tempted by bribes and threats to betray their masters. Many were strangled in the fruit¬ less attempt to force from them some acknowledgment of guilt. A favorite mode of torture was to fill a paper cap with burning pitch, and put it on the head of the victim. The shrieks of the sufferer, as the pitch streamed into his eyes and down his neck, excited the merriment of officers and men. They pricked him with their bayonets, and drowned his cries with savage yells, until often his suffer¬ ings were terminated by death. Others perished under the lash, and hundreds were shot down in the quiet of their homes. Houses were burned. If in any thing the sol¬ diery exceeded the limits of their terrible authority, in¬ demnity acts were quickly passed to legalize every bar¬ barity. It will hardly be believed that torture was practiced in a civilized country at the close of the eighteenth century. But the facts were notorious—“ Crimes, many of which,” said Grattan, “ are public, and many committed, which are concealed by the suppression of a free press by military force.” Lord Moira detailed these atrocities before the British House of Lords, and pledged himself to the proof. He moved an address to his majesty, imploring him to conciliate the affections of the Irish people. His motion * A common mode of obtaining evidence was by half-hanging. THE STATE TRIALS. 169 was rejected. Fox pressed the same subject on the House of Commons, but with no better success. In that day these cruelties were openly boasted of, but since time and a better public sentiment have produced some sense of shame, they have been denied. But Lord Clare published them without disguise in the presence of Parliament, and boasted of his own part in them, declaring “that measures of coercion were to his knowledge, ex¬ torted from the nobleman who governed that country.” Lord Camden lived long enough to find that such crimes added nothing to his esteem with the world. Toward the close of his life, it is said, that he bitterly complained of having been kept in utter ignorance of the atrocities prac¬ ticed in the name of his government. Then began the cold-blooded cruelty of the state trials. The purest characters in the land were dragged to prison md to the scaffold. At this awful moment Curran stepped forward to defend his hunted countrymen. It was the lark hour of Ireland’s history. The reign of terror had Degun. No man was safe who had dared to oppose the savage tyranny of those in power. Jeffreys on his bloody jircuit, hardly excited more terror than did the courts vhich were now opened. For a time the eloquence of lurran seemed the only barrier to those judicial massacres. Cvery means was employed to intimidate him. Often, as ie entered the court-room, anonymous letters were put into is hand, threatening assassination if he dared to appear n the defense. He knew that the court and the jury re re prejudiced against him. “ They had already fore- oomed his client to the grave.” Under the depression of H 170 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. these circumstances, he rose to do all that mortal man could do to save the doomed prisoner at the bar. Even then the power of his eloquence was often overwhelming. The perjured witness shrunk from his glance. The judge and jury could not escape the terrible fascination of his eye. And if a spectator sufficiently recovered from the spell to be able to glance around at the sea of faces, he beheld many an eye wet with tears. But it was all in vain. Oppression knows neither remorse nor pity. Beason, justice, eloquence, could not avail. The work of blood still went on. These atrocities were the immediate cause of the 1 [Rebellion of 1798. Oppression makes a wise man mad. It now made peaceable men revolutionists. These acts of tyranny were beyond comparison greater than those which provoked the American [Revolution. If our fathers were:, justified in taking up arms, the Irish can not be condemned in history merely by calling them rebels. That they resisted such a government is true. And the fact is to be recorded not to their shame, but to their honor. For they resisted where only cowards and slaves could submit. “ If that be treason, make the most of it."* This persecution drove thousands into the ranks of the United Irishmen, who otherwise would not have thought of conspiring against the government. The organization of Orangemen to support “ Protestant Ascendency,” that is, to continue the persecution of the Catholics; rendered the movement more rapid. Wherever Orange lodges spread, the United Irishmen astonishingly increased. * The language of Patrick Henry just before the American Revolution, THE DAY OF BATTLE POSTPONED. 171 The county of Armagh was especially the seat of Orange violence. An organized banditti—unchecked, if not ac¬ tually countenanced by government—ravaged that beauti¬ ful region. They posted on the cabins of the peasantry warnings to quit the country. “To Hell or Connaught’' was the summary alternative. Thousands of poor families were driven from their homes, without shelter and without bread. Those who remained, naturally armed themselves for defense and retaliation. Hence arose the Association of the Defenders; and afterward Armagh became a stronghold of the United Irishmen. In the spring of 1797 every thing was ready for the blow. The people were exasperated to the highest pitch by the persecutions of the government, and burned for revenge. The organization had been completed. A rev¬ olutionary staff had been formed, and officers appointed in every part of Ireland, who only waited the word of command to draw their swords. A plan of insurrection had been formed, in which they were assisted by some Irish officers, who had commanded in the Austrian service. Part of the army had been gained over. At one time, eight hundred of the garrison of Dublin offered to surren¬ der the barracks, if the leaders would give the signal. The militia were extensively in their interests. The English navy was also full of Irish sailors. Means had been taken secretly to secure their co-operation. And had the revolution been once commenced with vigor, it is probable that they would have brought a large part of the British fleet into the Irish ports. 172 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Iii such circumstances the people were impatient of delay. The north especially—the men of Ulster—de¬ manded to be led into immediate battle.* Then was their time. Never was there a fairer prospect of Revolution. Had the flag been unfurled, the insurrection would have swept from the Giants’ Causeway to Cape Clear. It is now seen that a great opportunity was missed. But it appeared otherwise then. The councils of the Directory were divided. The commander-in-chief and the more ardent spirits longed to be in the field. But on the other hand, cooler men thought that they put every thing to risk by drawing the sword too soon. Emmet dreaded the idea of a premature insurrection. McNeven, who was personally as brave as a lion, says, “ I was always opposed to our beginning by ourselves.” Tone wrote from France, entreating them to remain quiet, and not by a premature explosion give the government a pretext to let loose their dragoons upon them. Talleyrand had given the strongest * While thus impatiently waiting the word of command, “ the Northern insurrection had been nearly precipitated by a daring exploit, which if at¬ tempted would probably have succeeded. At a splendid ball given in Bel- i fast, the magistrates of the county and the military officers had met to enjoy the festivities without the remotest suspicion of danger ; the principal leaders ] of the United Irishmen stood in the crowd looking at the gay assembly; one of them proposed to seize so favorable an opportunity, to anticipate the day \ appointed for the signal of revolt; at once assemble their men, arrest and detain the magistrates and officers as hostages, and establish a provisional government in Ulster. The bold counsel was rejected by the majority, but the wiser minority saw that the timidity which rejected such an opportunity was unworthy of reliance, and either made their peace with the government or quitted the country.”—Madden’s Lives of the United Irishmen. First Se¬ ries. Vol. i. p. 22. FATAL RELIANCE ON FRANCE. 173 assurances that an expedition was in forwardness; and it really seemed that they had but to wait a few months, to make success certain. These arguments prevailed. The leaders postponed the day of rising, in the hope that a French army, marching in the van of their revolutionary soldiers, would render the movement irresistible. Two vast armaments had been fitted out, but had failed, as we have seen, from causes beyond human control. And now postponing the day of battle damped the ardor of the armies of the insurrection. Month after month they looked for a French fleet off their coast. Thus waiting for foreign assistance, the rising was deferred for a whole year. In truth, as the event proved, this reliance upon France, from which they hoped so much, prevented the success of their plans. Had they thrown off this de¬ pendence altogether, they were strong enough to have effected the revolution themselves. Said Emmet, “ Had Ireland never relied at all on France, her prospects might have been better realized. The French, however, having once promised, the reliance on this promise embarrassed every thing.” Napoleon he pronounced the worst foe that Ireland ever had. It is a remarkable instance of retribution, that this monarch twice held out the hope of independence to a ! subject nation, and twice disappointed their hopes. And these two nations, Ireland and Poland, were the two best situated to be a check on his most powerful enemies, England and Russia, and to break the violence of his fall. m THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. But though, deferred, it was evident that a great struggle could not be averted. This war of factions must end in blood. As the contest was seen to be approaching, the eyes of the nation were turned upon one man, a young and gallant soldier. But the history of this hero demands a more particular notice. CHAPTER XIII Lord Edward Fitzgerald. — High Birth. — Serves in the American War. — Wounded at the Battle of Eutaw Springs. — Travels in Spain.—Rejoins his Regiment in Canada.—Tour to the Falls of Niagara, the Great Lakes and tiie Mississippi.—Returns to Eng¬ land.—Associated with Fox and Sheridan.—Visits Paris during the French Revolution.—Marries a Daughter of Madame de Genlis.— Enters Parliament. — Joins the United Irishmen. — Is appointed Commander-in-Chief.—Talents for War.—Military Tactics. A MORE romantic character, and a life more full of ad¬ venture, can hardly be found even in the history of this romantic people, than that of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. He was descended from the most ancient British family in the island, and the most distinguished in Irish history. His ancestor, Maurice Fitzgerald, landed with the first English invasion in 1170. Yet though of English descent, this family had always espoused the cause of the oppressed Natives of the soil, so much that they had been known as Hibernis ipsis Hiberniores. The father of Lord Edward was the Duke of Leinster; his mother a daughter of the Duke of Richmond, so that he was on this side descended from Charles II. This son was born in 1763. At the age of seventeen he went out to Charleston, as a lieutenant in the American war. He soon became the idol of the army. His high rank and polished manners gave him access to 176 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. any society, while his warm Irish heart made him a uni¬ versal favorite. Those associated with him declared that they never knew so lovable a person. His open manner, his gayety, his bravery, and at the same time, his modesty, attached every body about him. He shortly distinguished himself in an action at Monk’s Corner, and was appointed on Lord Eawdon’s staff. He accompanied him in his rapid and successful march for the relief of Ninety Six, always in the van of the army, by which his person was greatly exposed. At the battle of Eutaw Springs he received a severe wound in the thigh, and when the armies drew off, he was lying on the field, insensible. When he awoke, the sound of battle was gone. The first living sight which met his eyes was a poor negro, bending over him. This faithful creature raised the wounded officer on his back, and carried him off to his hut, and there nursed him until he was well enough to be removed to Charleston. This negro’s name was Tony, whom Fitzgerald in gratitude for his kindness, took to Charleston as his servant, and afterward to Ireland. And thenceforth in all his wanderings, the “faithful Tony” was never absent from his side. It has been questioned by those who have followed the subsequent career of Lord Edward, whether he did not imbibe some of his liberal principles during the American war. His biographer thinks not. Yet it would seem that a person of his ardent mind could hardly avoid being struck with the chivalrous daring of the rebel foe. The war in South Carolina was, in some respects, more full of instances of romantic daring than in any other part of the SERVES IN X-HE AMERICAN WAR. m country. After tlie American armies had been driven from the field, numerous corps of partisan cavalry were formed, which scoured the country, surprising detached parties, cutting off supplies, and making up for the defect of numbers by the celerity of their movements. They rode abroad chiefly by night, and during the day kept close under cover of the thick wood, or on an island in a morass. From these retreats, they sallied out of a dark night, and after riding thirty or forty miles, came in like a thunderbolt on the enemy’s camp. The Irish dragoons, who were employed in the partisan warfare in South Carolina; began to conceive an admira¬ tion for the brave sons of the forest, who, without uniforms or military equipments, were yet more daring riders and more desperate fighters than themselves. The King’s troops could not sit down in their camp to take a break¬ fast, but Marion’s men came like so many wild Indians, dashing out of the wood, each horse foaming with speed, and each rider rising out of his saddle, and his blade flash¬ ing on high. At midnight they heard the rushing of their steeds, like goblin horsemen, and saw the quick flashes of their guns light up the greenwood round. The Irish troops felt enthusiasm for such a chivalrous foe. These were exhibitions of courage in which Fitzgerald delighted. There were too many points of resemblance between the condition of America and of Ireland—both oppressed by the same power—not to suggest themselves to their reflec¬ tion—and many a time in this fraternal war, did their thoughts turn sadly to their own country. Discipline and the fierce passions of war made them fight bravely in the 178 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. hour of battle. But even when victorious they wandered over the field of the slain, they could not but wish that they were fighting in a better cause. Fitzgerald saw something of these rebel chiefs. Colonel Washington, our best cavalry officer, was wounded and taken prisoner at Eutaw Springs. Lord Edward, though not recovered himself, volunteered to take charge of him to Charleston. As the two wounded officers rode side by side, Fitzgerald’s Irish enthusiasm could hardly help feeling admiration for his prisoner, who had received his scars fighting for his country. On his death¬ bed, he alluded to his career in America. A military man called to see him in prison, who had known him in Charleston, and alluded to that period of their lives. “Ah!” said the dying hero, “I was then wounded in a very different cause;—that was in fighting against liberty —this in fighting for it.” It is a curious fact that not only Lord Edward but his commander, also an Irishman, should have been found afterward fighting for the liberties of their common coun¬ try. Lord Bawdon, who led the British armies in South Carolina, was the same who under the title of Earl Moira, was for so many years the devoted friend of Ireland both in the Irish and in the English House of Lords. At the close of the war he spent some months in the West Indies, from which he returned to his native coun¬ try. In 1786 he went to Woolwich to complete his mili¬ tary education. The following years he traveled in Spain, visiting Gibraltar, Lisbon, Cadiz, Granada, and Madrid, all which he surveyed with a military eye. The Alham- SECOND VISIT TO AMERICA. 179 bra transported him into regions of Oriental romance. “It is in fact,” he says, “the palaces and gardens of the Arabian Nights.” He returned to England to meet with a disappointment which his warm nature made him feel most keenly—a dis¬ appointment in love. His fortune was not sufficient for the nobleman’s daughter whose hand he sought, or rather for her father’s ambition. Despairing, he sailed again for America in 1788, rejoining his regiment at St. John’s in New Brunswick. Here he seems to have become enamored of the wild life of the woods. The immensity of the forests, the lofty and dim aisles in which he could wander for days, without emerging into the garish sunlight, touched his spirit with awe. The mighty rivers, unrippled save by the Indian’s canoe, or the light dip of the distant oar, taught his thoughts also to flow in peace. Thus Na¬ ture, winning his love by her silent beauty, made him for¬ get the heart pain which he had known beyond the sea.* While in New Brunswick, there served under him an ex¬ traordinary man, afterward to be distinguished in another sphere, the famous William Cobbett. He says, “ I got my discharge from the army by the kindness of poor Lord Ed¬ ward Fitzgerald, who was then major of my regiment.” He afterward bore this strong testimony to his character. * Such are the emotions of every man of sensibility when transferred from the feverish life of a European capital, to the solitude of the forests of the New World. For most beautiful descriptions of these scenes, I may refer the reader to numerous passages in the travels of Humboldt in South Ameri¬ ca, and to the works of Chateaubriand, particularly to a description of the Cataract of Niagara in the Genie du Christianisme. 180 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. In 1800, lie dined one day with. Mr. Pitt, who questioned him respecting his former officer. He replied, “Lord Ed¬ ward was a most humane and excellent man, and the only really honest officer I ever knew in the army.” Fond of adventure, Fitzgerald set out from St. John’s to make a winter march through the woods to Quebec. The journey occupied thirty days, during twenty-six of which they were in the woods, where they saw not a human being but their own party. From Quebec he proceeded in May to Montreal and to the Falls of Niagara. Here he fell in company with the famous chief, Joseph Brant, whom he accompanied to Detroit, where he was adopted by the In¬ dians. He was formally inducted into the Bear Tribe, and made one of their chiefs. From Detroit he continued his journey around the lakes, by Mackinaw, and crossing the prairies to the Mississippi, descended the Father of waters to New Orleans. All this is now a very easy tour by rail¬ roads and steamboats. But in 1789, when Lord Edward traversed it, he had to wander through trackless forests, trusting to Indian guides, and sailing up and down rivers in bark canoes. The undertaking was then little less diffi¬ cult than when the Jesuit missionaries first explored the region of the great lakes and the Mississippi. From New Orleans he wished to extend his journey into Mexico, to visit the silver mines of New Spain. But this the Spanish authorities would not permit. He accord¬ ingly sailed direct for England. Scarcely had he landed in London, before Mr. Pitt sent for him to give information in regard to Cadiz, which he had visited dining his tour in Spain. His information was exact, and showed that he IN THE SOCIETY OF LONDON. 181 had surveyed its fortifications with the quick eye of a sol¬ dier. Pitt nominated him on the spot to command an ex¬ pedition against that city, from which he was deterred only by hearing soon after that the Duke of Leinster had re¬ turned him as a member of the Irish parliament. The society into which he now entered tended to give a liberal direction to his political views. In the higher circles of London he was thrown much with the Whigs. In the brilliant drawing-rooms of Holland House he held converse with the finest intellects of England. There Fox’s earnest, hearty support of liberal principles appealed to all the generous impulses of his Irish heart. There Sheridan’s wit, flashing brighter as the night drew on, made the soci¬ ety of the hoary-headed Tories seem flat and dull. Fitz¬ gerald’s imagination was caught by thus seeing his politi¬ cal principles presented with the attractions of eloquence, and allied with all that was most fascinating in social life. And now there was a wonder in the world. France had burst out into a revolution. The most ancient monarchy in Europe had sunk as by an earthquake, and a young re¬ public starting from the earth, had begun to run the career of liberty. Lord Edward, unwilling to lose a scene of such excitement, hastened over to Paris. He soon caught the enthusiasm of the new era. The French were wild with the excitement of liberty. Fitzgerald wrote home to his mother: “ In the coffee-houses, and play-houses, every man calls the other camarade, frere, and with a stranger immedi¬ ately begins, ‘Ah! nous sommes tous frfires, tous hommes, nos victoires sont pour vous, pour tout le monde.’ In short, all the good, enthusiastic French sentiments seem to 182 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. come out, while to appearance, one would say, they had lost all their bad.” In Paris he became acquainted with La Fayette, and others distinguished for their exertions in the cause of liberty, whose ardor speedily communicated to his own breast. He soon became a republican. It was reported in Eng¬ land that in the ardor of his new opinions, he had re¬ nounced his title, and in consequence he was dismissed from the army, a circumstance which by no means dimin¬ ished his-ardor for the principles of liberty. His attachment to the popular cause was soon strength¬ ened by a new bond. One evening at the theater, he ob¬ served in a box near him, a young lady with whose face he was very much struck. It was of remarkable beauty, and it riveted his attention the more because of its resem¬ blance to the face of a lady to whom he had been attached, and who had been some months dead. On inquiry he learned that she was Pamela, the adopted daughter of Ma¬ dame de Genlis, and, as is now well known, her actual daughter by the Duke of Orleans. She was thus the half- sister of Louis Philippe. He had often heard of her beauty in London, where she had visited with her mother at the house of Mr. Sheridan. He had then declined going to see her, from a disinclination to the society of literary women. But one sight of her face dispelled all prejudices. He im¬ mediately sought an introduction. He found the beauty of her face more than equaled by the charms of her mind. Love is a fruit which ripens fast in ardent natures. His attachment strengthened every day. The stain of her birth might have raised scruples in a less generous mind. MARRIAGE. 183 But no sooner was his heart satisfied, than he offered her his hand with the frankness of a soldier. In less than a month from their first meeting at Paris they were united for life, Louis Philippe being one of the witnesses of the ceremony. This marriage was productive of unalloyed happiness. On his wife he lavished all the affection of his warm heart. Her confiding disposition, and her French vivacity of man¬ ner, were to him sources of constant delight. He was proud of her. Ilis eye followed her with rapture as she mingled in the dance, the soul of society. Never was there a fonder husband. And when he was a father, his happiness was complete. His greatest pleasure was to see his child in its mother’s arms. These were happy days. He took his bride to his home in Ireland. Now he busied himself laying out his grounds, his walks, his bowers—every improvement more sweet from the thought of her who should share his happi¬ ness. Here he promised himself peace. Sweet vision of happiness! too bright to last! In January, 1793, we find Lord Edward in Dublin, resuming his duties in Parliament. He now had a political station and pohtical duties. He did not often speak. He was no talker. Sometimes, when his indignation was aroused by some act of injustice, his feelings burst forth in the bold language of a soldier. Thus, when the House was about to vote one of its obsequious addresses to the Lord Lieutenant, approving his violent measures for putting down the Irish Volunteers, Fitzgerald sprang to his feet, exclaiming with great energy, “Sir, I give my 184 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. most hearty disapprobation to this address, for I do think the Lord Lieutenant and the majority of this House are the worst subjects the King has.” Instantly the house was in an uproar. Cries, “ To the bar,” “ Take down his words,” resounded from all sides. The galleries were cleared of strangers, and the House in close session spent nearly three hours in trying to bring the audacious member to repentance. But all they could get out of him was rather a tame expression of regret that he had given offense, coupled with a not very ambiguous intimation that what he had said was true.* He soon became disgusted with the petty politics of the House of Commons. The legislation was a farce. Reason, justice, appeals to patriotism, all were lost on a slavish majority, hired to vote as their master pleased. Fitzgerald saw that the breath of orators and patriots was spent in vain. From this the step was easy to joining in a plot against the government. In 1795 the United Irishmen were re¬ organized into a secret society, with the undisguised object of revolution. Lord Edward became a member, and soon exerted great influence in its councils. The following year he went with Arthur O’Connor, as a deputation from the United Irishmen, to Switzerland, and there, on the frontier of France, had an interview with Hoche, who was about to undertake the invasion of Ireland. They carried with them an explicit pledge that the expenses of the expedition * Grattan bad spoken in almost as bold a tone. He bad said, “ The friends of the administration are in fact the ringleaders of sedition placed in authority.” APPOINTED COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 185 should be reimbursed; that the troops, while acting in Ireland, should receive Irish pay ; and insisted in return, on the condition that the French should come not as con¬ querors, but only as allies, and to act under the direction of the new government, as Rochambeau had done in America. There was no man in Ireland at this time whose name excited so much enthusiasm as Fitzgerald’s. “ I remem¬ ber,” says Moore, “ as if it had been but yesterday, having once seen him in the year 1797, in Grafton Street; when on being told who he was, as he passed, I ran anxiously after him, desirous of another look at one whose name had, from my school-boy days, been associated in my mind with all that was noble, patriotic, and chivalrous. Though I saw him but this once, his peculiar dress, the elastic lightness of his step, his fresh, healthful complexion, and the soft expression given to his eyes by their long, dark eyelashes, are as present and familiar to my memory as if I had intimately known him.” When the United Irish Society was turned into a military organization, Lord Edward instantly occurred to all as the commander-in-chief. It was important to have some one at the head whose name was widely known, and whose patriotism and capacity were undoubted. The family of Fitzgerald had always been distinguished for their devotion to their country; a devotion which had gained for them in return the unbounded confidence of the nation. In addition to this hereditary patriotism, Lord Edward had evinced from youth the most enthusiastic love 186 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of liis country. He loved her people. And no man ever had greater power of attaching others to himself. His amiable, social qualities endeared him to all hearts. He was formed by nature for a popular leader. He loved liberty, and abhorred oppression. He had a hearty love of truth and justice. This was shown in his espousing the cause of the people when his interests clearly led the other way. His high -rank, his ancient name, added to his per¬ sonal distinction, opened to him the most brilliant prospects of advancement. But he sacrificed them all to the noble ambition of liberating his country. If he could not rise with the land of his birth, he at least would not rise upon her ruins. But aside from this patriotic ardor in the cause, Lord Edward had every qualification for a military leader. His mind was clear and straightforward. His modesty con¬ cealed from all but those who knew him intimately, the real force of his intellect. MclSTeven says, “ Lord Edward Fitzgerald had a great deal more of mind, than is generally imagined by those who are supposed to be conversant with the history of those times.” He had decidedly great talents in war. His military plans were drawn up with consummate skill. They showed a degree of coolness and prudence hardly to have been expected from his impet¬ uous character. In the thickest fight he never lost his presence of mind. He was as cool as he was brave. He sat on his horse under the enemy’s fire as calmly as if drawn up on parade. His eye was everywhere, quick to detect any error in the enemy’s dispositions. Agile as a leopard, he only waited the moment to charge, and then HIS MILITARY TALENTS. 187 rushed into the smoke of battle with a heart as intrepid as ever beat in a human bosom. The gentleness of his manners might prevent a casual observer from remarking the strength of character which lay underneath. But he was well known among his friends for a firmness which they sometimes accounted obstinacy.* He had that strong will, which perseveres through many defeats to ultimate victory. He had received a thorough military education. He had entered the army when very young, and for several years had been engaged in actual war. He was now in the prime of manhood. All these qualities pointed out this young nobleman as the man best fitted to lead the armies of the rebellion. He accepted the dangerous post, and bent his mind to perfecting the military arrangements. He selected for his officers men distinguished either for military skill, or for their local influence. The vast league of societies fur¬ nished soldiers, and thus Lord Edward found himself at the head of an army of five hundred thousand men. On his arrest there was found among his papers a plan * la the examination afterward of the state-prisoners before the Secret Committee of the House of Commons, the character of Fitzgerald was much discussed. “ I knew Lord Edward well,” said one of the committee, “ and always found him very obstinate.” “ I knew Lord Edward right well,” replied Mr. Emmet, “ and have done a great deal of business with him, and have always found, when he had a reliance on the integrity and talents of the person he acted with, he was one of the most persuadable men alive; but if he thought a man meant dis¬ honestly or unfairly by him, he was as obstinate as a mule.” 188 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. for the defense of a city against disciplined troops. He details the advantages which the insurgents would have in such an encounter:—“ The troops, by the breadth of the streets, are obliged to have a very narrow front, and how¬ ever numerous, only three men deep can be brought into action, which in the widest of our streets can not be more than sixty men; as a space must be left on each side or flank, for the men who discharge to retreat to the rear, that their places may be occupied by the next in succes¬ sion who are loaded ; so though there are a thousand men in a street, not more than sixty can act at one time, and should they be attacked by an irregular body armed with pikes or such bold weapons, if the sixty men in front were defeated, the whole body, however numerous are unable to assist, and immediately become a small mob in uniform, from the inferiority of their number in comparison to the people, and easily disposed of. “Another disadvantage on the part of the soldiers would be, that, as they are regulated by the word of com¬ mand, or stroke of the drum, they must be left to their in¬ dividual discretion, as such communications must be drowned in the noise and clamor of a popular tumult.” He details the means to be employed to oppose the progress of an army through a city. The pavements can be torn up and barricades formed at near distances, to check the advance of horse or artillery. By this means their progress must be very slow. At the same time they can be assailed by a fire from the windows, while showers of bricks or coping-stones can be poured down from the HIS MILITARY TACTICS. 189 roofs. Simultaneously tlie country should rise in the rear,' and cut off their retreat. “ The people would have an advantage by being armed with pikes. The first attack if possible should be made by men whose pikes were nine or ten feet long; by that means they could act in ranks deeper than the soldiery, whose arms are much shorter; then the deep files of the pikemen, by being weightier, must easily break the thin order of the army. “ The charge of the pikemen should be made in a smart trot. On the extremity of every rank should be placed intrepid men to keep the fronts even, that at clos¬ ing every point should tell together. They should have at the same time two or three like bodies at convenient distances in the rear, who would be brought up, if want¬ ing, to support the front, which would give confidence to their brothers in action, as it would tend to discourage the enemy. At the same time there should be in the rear of each division some men of spirit to keep the ranks as close as -possible. “ The apparent strength of the army should not intimi¬ date, as closing on it makes its powder and ball useless: all its superiority is in fighting at a distance; its skill ceases, and its action must be suspended, when it once is within reach of the pike.” In his tactics for the general conduct of the war he showed great coolness and sagacity. His policy was, not to lead raw troops into immediate battle, but to accustom them gradually to arms, and bring them into the enemy’s fire as they were able to bear it. In conducting a popular 190 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. insurrection, tlie principal danger is from tire impetuosit 1 and disorder of the people, rushing on eagerly and confu sedly, and of course being easily defeated. Said Welling | ton, when conducting the war in the Peninsula, “Th< Juntas called out for a battle and early success. If I hac had the power, I would have prevented the Spanish armie; from attending to this call; and if I had, the cause would now have been safe.” Lord Edward’s tactics were therefore to avoid pitched battles, especially in the beginning of the war ; to keep to the hills, and thus watch and weary the enemy, while col¬ lecting strength for the fatal blow. CHAPTER XIV. Thomas Addis Emmet.*—The three Brothers.— His Education.—Studies Medicine at Edinrurgh.—Travels on the Continent.—Adopts the Profession of Law.—Commences Practice in Dublin.—The State Tri¬ als.—He takes the Oath of the United Irishmen in open Court.— In¬ timacy with Tone.—Joins the Society.— Is chosen one of the Directors. It is one design of this volume to trace particularly the part borne in the projected Irish revolution by the exiles to America. We may break the current of the narrative to furnish some details of particular actors in these scenes, in the fate of whom the American reader may be supposed to feel particular interest. The leaders of the United Irishmen were now collected in Dublin. Among them were three, whose names are familiar, as fortune afterward threw them together on the shores of the new world, Emmet, McNeven, and Sampson. They came from the opposite extremes of the island, from three different provinces, Munster, Connaught, and Ulster. Of Thomas Addis Emmet, we have already had occa- * This sketch of Emmet is derived chiefly from a memoir by Charles Glidden Haines. It is a thin volume, and was published in 1829. The facts were drawn from Mr. Emmet himself, with whom Mr. Haines wa3 thrown during the sittings of the Supreme Court at Washington. 192 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. sion to speak as tlie associate of Tone. He was born in Cork, April 24tli, 1764. He was one of three brothers, all distinguished, but both the others cut down in the prime of manhood. His elder brother, Temple, was a barrister, and had greatly distinguished himself at the bar. Thomas Addis was accustomed to speak of him as one of the first men that Ireland had ever produced, and liis early death was to him always matter of painful remembrance. The fate of the younger brother Robert was still more melan¬ choly. The parents of Emmet were affluent, and bestowed upon their son every advantage of education. He was trained to all manly exercises as well as taught from books. His frame was developed in field-sports. He was fond of hunt¬ ing, and was a very expert horseman. His father was an eminent physician, and as his eldest; 1 son had chosen the bar, he destined Thomas for his own profession. Accordingly, after being graduated with honor at Trinity College, Dublin, he was sent to Edinburgh to pursue his medical studies. Here he remained four years, during which he was the fellow-student of Sir James Mac¬ kintosh, and the intimate acquaintance of Dugald Stewart. So great was his popularity with his fellow-students, that at one time he was president of five literary, scientific, and medical societies. From Edinburgh he went to the con¬ tinent, traveling in France, Germany, and Italy, and visit¬ ing the most celebrated schools of medicine. On his return through London, he saw his friend, Sir James Mackintosh, whose advice determined him to change his profession for that of the law. He accordingly studied at the Temple two ADOPTS THE PROFESSION OF LAW. 193 jrears, and attended the courts at Westminster, where he Dfifcen heard the great advocate Erskine. He was admitted ;o the bar in Dublin, in 1790. At this tune the Irish bar presented an extraordinary array of talent. The courts ,vere accustomed to the eloquence of Curran, and of others only second to him. Emmet became immediately their ;ompanion on their circuits, and their competitor. He non distinguished himself as an advocate, and if he had lot the versatile genius of Curran, it was the opinion of many that in legal attainments he was his superior. The ttorneys of Dublin told McNeven that Thomas Addis Em- iiet had few if any superiors at the bar. In 1796, the Irish courts became engrossed with the tate trials. These prosecutions cowed the timid, and those , r ho thought more of personal safety than of the deliver- nce of their country. But in every true Irish heart they ailed out all that was noble and brave. The sympathy of le nation was with the defenders of the United Irishmen, lough on the side of their oppressors there was power. It as on these trials that Curran made his greatest efforts, id secured the gratitude and affection of his country, mmet was another of the noble few that in that hour of anger, stood in “ the imminent, deadly breach.” To put iwn the United Irish Society, a law had been passed, aking it a capital crime to take or to administer an illegal ath. In one case in which a conviction had been obtained, mmet appeared on a motion in arrest of judgment. He ' ildly defended the principles of the United Irishmen, and ading aloud with a grave voice the oath of which the •isoners had been convicted, he exclaimed with the deep- I 194 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. est solemnity:—“My lords—here in the presence of thi legal court—this crowded auditory—in the presence of thi Being that sees and witnesses, and directs this judicial tri bunal—here, my lords, I myself, in the presence of God declare, I take the oath.” He then took the book that was on the table, kissed it and sat down. The court did not arrest him. They wer< in too great amazement to do any thing, and the prison ers received a lenient sentence. It is remarkable that, without any knowledge of thi. occurrence, Sampson, in another part of the kingdom, ka( taken the oath in the same way in open court. Emmet and Tone had commenced the practice of law ii Dublin about the same time. They soon became intimate Their political opinions accorded perfectly. Emmet die not, however, join the United Irish Society until 1796 He hoped for peaceful reforms, till there was no longe any room for hope. He then turned to the painful altei native of revolution. No man was less formed for a conspirator. He was no restless by nature. He had a large, calm mind, which, uc less powerfully excited, maintained an attitude of philc sophical repose. He could not stoop to be an intriguer, nor had he the motives which might spur on inferior mei to desperate enterprises in the hope to raise themselves b; revolution. He was already in possession of wide fame His great talents were known to the nation, and if he chos' to join the party in power, there was no station in Irelant which he might not hope to reach. But the gloom tha overshadowed his country, pressed upon his spirits. Othe A MEMBER OF THE DIRECTORY. 195 nations had awaked from the sleep of ages, and were run¬ ning a career of improvement and glory. America was free; France was free; but Ireland was still in bondage. He saw around him a people with the finest faculties in the world, and the noblest hearts, yet all crushed and broken by the poverty and oppression in which they lived. He thought upon it long, and at last concluded that there was no hope for Ireland, but to make one bold effort to break her chains. At a later day, when he was examined before the secret committee of the House of Lords, Lord Clare said to him, “Well, I can not conceive the separation could last twelve hours.” “ I declare it to God,” replied Emmet, “ I think that if Ireland were separated from England, she would be the happiest spot on the face of the globe.” At which, he says, they all seemed astonished. The next year after Emmet joined the United Irish So¬ ciety, he was elected a member of the Directory. In this position he had great influence. While Fitzgerald was the military leader, Emmet was perhaps the principal man in the cabinet. From his high position, even party malice hardly dared to breathe a suspicion against him. And yet in secret he was directing the conspiracy throughout Ire¬ land. CHAPTER XV. ■William James McNeven.*—A Connaught Man.—Educated at Prague and Vienna.— Settles as a Physician in Dublin.— Bold Conduct in the Catholic Convention.—Interview with an Emissary from France.— Sent on a Mission to Paris. Akother member of the Directory, whose eventful life at last ended in the New World, was Dr. William James MdSTeven. He was born at Ballynahowne, in the county of Galway, March 21st, 1763. His ancestors had large estates in the north of Ireland, but were of the num¬ ber of Catholic families who were dispossessed by Crom¬ well, and driven into the wilds of Connaught. This en¬ tailed in the family an hereditary hatred of oppression. Young McNeven was brought up within a mile of the field * For the materials of this sketch I am indebted to the Lives and Times of the United Irishmen, by R. R. Madden, M.D., Second Series, published in London in 1843. These volumes are a sign of returning justice. Publish¬ ed after a lapse of more than forty years, they contain a calm review of the principles and acts of the United Irishmen. A compilation of individual i memoirs, each of which traverses the same period, standing side by side like parallel columns, of course can not have the sustained interest of a continuous history in which the action moves forward steadily to one general result. The facts however embodied in this collection are of great value, and the author deserves well of his country for the industry with which he has gath¬ ered these memorials of her Revolutionary leaders. EDUCATED AT PRAGUE. 19? of Aughrim, on which liad been fought less than eighty years before, a memorable battle between the forces of James the Second and William. Sporting when a boy over the green sods that had drunk streams of Irish blood, his thoughts were turned even then to the unhappy rela¬ tion of his country to England. At this time it was difficult for a Catholic to obtain an education in Ireland from the restrictions of the penal laws, and young men of family or fortune were commonly sent abroad. McNeven had an uncle who had resided many years at Prague, and who had risen to such emi¬ nence as to be appointed physician to the Empress-queen Maria Theresa. He had received the title of Baron, and married a lady of rank and fortune, and was settled per¬ manently in that ancient capital. He sent for his nephew, when but ten years old, to come and live with him, and pursue his education in Germany. An Irish officer who was in the Austrian service, happened to be then visiting his relations in Ireland, and when he returned to the con¬ tinent McNeven was sent under his charge. In passing through Dublin he relates that he saw two fine-looking men brought from a backyard, and handcuffed before his face. He learned that they were American prisoners, and he heard them say, Though their own lot was a hard one, they would be happy to meet the enemy another time on Bunker’s Hill. “ This incident,” he says, “ awoke my at¬ tention to the events of the American war, and made me a willing reader of the English papers in my uncle’s circle, when they brought us the glories of Washington, and the defeats of the British army.” 198 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. In the family of his uncle eight years passed swiftly away. During the winter Baron MdSTeyen resided in Prague, where his house was frequented by men of science, and the best society of the capital. In the summer he occupied an old castle on the river Seva, about sixty miles from the city. lie took pains to give his nephew the most thorough classical and professional education. After pass¬ ing through the College and Medical School of Prague, he completed his professional studies at Vienna in 1783. He then returned to Ireland, and commenced the practice of medicine in Dublin the following year. McNeven was a Catholic, and he soon became inter¬ ested in the effort to obtain for his brethren equal rights with the Protestants. Though a very young man, he was appointed one of the Catholic Committee, a small body which occasionally met in Dublin, and which pretended in a feeble way to look after the interests of the Catholics of Ireland. But in reality their principal business was, on the accession of a new Lord Lieutenant, to present an ad¬ dress, declaring their loyalty, but not daring to demand their rights. It was generally conceived in the most ab¬ ject spirit, and received with neglect and contempt. In fact, until lately, the representative of England had not con¬ descended to make the least reply. About this time a new viceroy came to Ireland, and the Catholic committee drew up their usual cringing speech. MclSTeven opposed it. He declared that it was unworthy of their honor. He was ashamed of such sycophancy. He had lived for ten years, in a country where it was no dishonor to be a Catholic, and he had not yet learned to use the tone of a slave. BOLD CONDUCT IN THE CONVENTION. 199 The address was voted down. This was almost the first sign of returning spirit among the Catholics of Ireland. It was shortly after, that assembled in Dublin that famous Catholic Convention which appealed directly to the King of England for justice. This was called the Catholic Parliament, and was the first full and strong rep¬ resentation of that portion of the nation. Of this Parlia¬ ment McNeven was a prominent member. Here he found the same obsequious and timid spirit. They had now ventured to ask a little relief, and to pray his Majesty to grant them a participation in the elective franchise. McNeven moved to amend the petition so that it should read, an equal participation. On this point he spoke in the boldest tone. If McNeven could be characterized in one word, it would be that of Truthteller. His mind was clear. He saw the right and the wrong without disguise, and in giving his opinion he went straight to the mark. In telling his mind he was frank even to bluntness. He scorned subterfuge or evasion. Nor did he feel bound to be guarded in his language when denouncing atrocious injustice. He would not palliate crime because committed by a high authority. The laws against the Catholics were an outrage upon nat¬ ural justice, and he saw no reason why they should not be called by their right name. As for that timid, hesitating policy which calls itself prudence, he knew nothing of it. He was totally devoid of fear. In every extremity he maintained an imperturb¬ able coolness and self-possession. His speeches were distinguished by their plain sound 200 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. sense, and by the earnest conviction of the truth and justice of his cause which they manifested. He urged the Catholics to stand firm for their rights, and to demand nothing less than total emancipation. The assembly was animated by his fearless bearing, and soon caught the tone of so bold a leader. Such were the sentiments of McNeven in 1792. Thirty-seven years rolled away, and though an exile, he was yet alive to see the glorious day when the English Parliament granted full emancipation to the Catholics of Ireland, thus confirming the wisdom and sagacity of that policy which he had so long before demanded, and which, if granted then, would have saved infinite treasure and blood. Seeing the character of MdSTeven, Lord Edward Fitz¬ gerald and Arthur O’Connor sought an interview with him, in which they explained their designs, and requested his co-operation. He entered warmly into their political views, and joined the secret society of the United Irish¬ men at about the same time with Emmet. Lord Edward’s house appears to have been the place of reunion for all the liberal spirits of the capital at that period. One evening intelligence arrived that assistance might speedily be ex¬ pected from France. McNeven and Emmet hastened with the news to the residence of Fitzgerald. They found him with his wife and sister, and the whole party conversed with the greatest animation on the prospects before them, the ladies entering with enthusiasm into their brilliant an¬ ticipations. The courage of McNeven was put to several severe AN EMISSARY FROM FRANCE. 201 tests. At one time an emissary from General Hoche and Tone arrived with a message from the United Irishmen. Several of the Directory were uneasy about receiving him. They perhaps remembered the affair of Cockayne, and were suspicious of a stranger. He might prove to be a spy, and this be a snare for their lives. In this perplexity McNeven volunteered to hold the interview. He accord¬ ingly repaired at night to the street in front of the Post Office, and walked up and down, until the clock struck eleven, when the agent emerged from the shadow of an adjacent building, and joined him. They exchanged signals and walked away together. McNeven received his communication from France, and in return gave him full information of the state of affairs in Ireland. The in¬ terview ended, McNeven accompanied the emissary to the quay, and saw him safely off that night. This gentleman was Colonel McSheehy, already mentioned as aid-de-camp to General Tone, and who was afterward killed in the battle of Eylau. In July 1797 McNeven was employed on a still more dangerous business—to go on a mission to France. He proceeded to Hamburg, and requested of the French min¬ ister a passport to Paris. The minister refused, alleging that his instructions did not allow him to give a passport without especial permission from his government. He offered however to forward any communication to the Di¬ rectory. McNeven therefore drew up a memorial on the state of Ireland in which he pressed the demand for French assistance. Eight months after, when arrested in Dublin, he saw a copy of this very dispatch in the hands 202 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of tlie Irish government. There can be little question that the French agent at Hamburg was in the pay of Pitt. With such dangers were the lives of the United Irishmen surrounded! Two days after, the minister’s objections gave way, and he allowed McNeven to proceed on to Paris. Here he communicated in person the object of his mission. At the same time he kept up a correspondence with Tone, then in Holland. CHAPTER XVI. William Sampson.—Early Voyage to America.—Commences the Practice of Law in Belfast.—Intimacy with Curran.—Anecdotes.—They are employed together on the State Trials.—Friendship of Lord Moira. William Sampson was not a member of the society of United Irishmen, but he played a part in the political history of his country not less important than Emmet and McNeven, and was their companion in exile. He was from the extreme north of Ireland, being a native of Londonderry, the same city which gave birth to Lord Castlereagh. He was born on the 17th of January, 1764, thus differing but a few months from the age of Emmet and McNeven. His father was a clergyman of London¬ derry. “ On the mother’s side he was connected with Mr. Dobbs Spaight, one of the original framers of the con¬ stitution of the United States in 1776; and with the eccentric counselor Dobbs, who believed that a proud destiny of future glory is predicted to Ireland in the Apocalypse, and opposed the union as inconsistent with St. John’s Revelation.” At eighteen he held a commission in the Irish Volun¬ teers. About this time he made a vovage to America, to visit an uncle, Col. Sampson, who had settled in North 204 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. Carolina, and where a county still bears his name. Or his return he studied the profession of law. In 1790 lie married a Miss Clarke of Belfast; and on completing his terms at Lincoln’s Inn, he commenced the practice of his profession in that city. Belfast at this time took the lead in the movement foi reform, as it had before in organizing the Irish Yolunteers, Sampson’s associations naturally led him to the Protestanl Ascendency party. Londonderry, his native city, was dis- dinguished for its ultra Protestantism. His father was a clergyman of that church which was most closely bound to England. His own hopes of political advancement lay in supporting the party in power. But he could not sup¬ port a government fatal to the interests of his country- He could not uphold the corruption of Parliament and the oppression of the Catholics. And when the government undertook to put down the United Irishmen by prosecu¬ tion, he stood forward in their defense. It shocked him to see thousands of his countrymen branded as traitors, and holding their lives at the will of hired informers, or of a crafty and cruel government. Many he knew to be the purest and most patriotic characters in the land; and he was determined that they should not be sacrificed without a struggle. He soon became conspicuous for his defense of the United Irishmen, who were tried for taking illegal oaths. His profession took him to Dublin during the terms of court, and here he became the intimate friend of Curran. The circumstances of their first acquaintance were amusing. Sampson had been sitting in court all day, waiting for an opportunity to present some business, but FRIENDSHIP WITH CURRAN. 205 doomed to listen to a tedious argument, which wearied out his patience, and that of the bar. He revenged himself by an epigram, in which he compared the learned counsel to a sluggish, slimy river, winding slowly along, and ended with these doggerel lines,— “ Leaving nothing he could find But his client’s cause behind.” “I blush to think of it at the end of near thirty years,” said Sampson, “ and yet it was to that folly that I owed the first acquaintance with the most interesting personage I ever knew. It was snatched from me by a waggish young friend who sent it about; it found its way among the senior counsel to Curran, who, being directed to the spot it proceeded from, looked and met the eyes of my betrayer, who seemed to acknowledge the offense with a modest air of contrition. Curran, when the court rose, singled him out, and introducing himself as a brother poetaster, in¬ vited him to spend the following day at his country house, and lent him his gray mare to go a hunting. The next day my friend thanked me in the hall of the four courts for his entertainment, saying he had dined and hunted on my epigram. Curran summoned us both to appear at a future day, to void the quarrel, at the Priory, when the raillery that passed upon this little adventure made part of the entertainment.” Another anecdote related by Sampson, shows the affec¬ tionate nature of their intercourse, as well as the sadness which pressed on every true Irish heart. “ It was during the summer circuit of 1797, that having retired to rest after a 206 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. day of fatigue and anxiety, I was awoke in the night by the appellation of Gossip; and looking up, I saw on a corner of my bed, with his feet gathered up under him, that illustrious orator, whose voice had a few hours before hurled defiance at the proud, and whose eyes had shot their piercing glances through the guilty heart. That voice was now soft and subdued, those eyes lowly and dejected. I looked at him for a time, as he did at me, before either spoke. He held a glimmering candle in his hand, and his appearance, to say the least, was picturesque. I would have laughed, but I saw his heart was sad. He at length opened the object of his visit. His mind was full of gloomy presages, and he had tried in vain to sleep. All hopes of conciliation were now past, and nothing but civil war could follow: crime on one side must in the nature of things produce crimes upon the other; the country must bleed, and good men fall. He had almost \ j determined to retire, not only from public life, but from a land still destined to sorrow and oppression. He put before me the dangers I was threatened with, and asked me if I would accompany him. I told him that I was now sworn and pledged, and must stay and take my chance. He then asked, how much I thought one of his unostenta¬ tious habits could live for in France, so as not to be posi¬ tively excluded from good company. I told him I thought a colonel’s half-pay might do; and if he would brush his own coat, and turn his cravat the second day, have the court calendar by heart, and talk of his noble friends and relations, he might come near the fag end of the nobility. If he could produce his passport now I would countersign IS EMPLOYED IN THE STATE TRIALS. 207 it, and then would recommend to him to go to sleep, that he might be ready for his journey in the morning, and in the mean time leave me to my rest. 1 He took this in good part, made a flourish with his tongue to show he under¬ stood me, and went off without more words, but sending me back a look of the Irish school of eloquence, which the wit of man is not equal to translate. The next morning he thanked me for having made him laugh; and promised as much for me, when it was my turn of the blue devils. But he had not relinquished his project, and I think if I had accompanied, or even encouraged him, he would have put it in execution.”* In above a hundred of the state trials, Curran and Sampson were engaged as counsel together. They were associated in the memorable case of Orr, the tragical result of which excited such indignation throughout Ireland. ISTeither of them however ever joined the United Irish Society, though they knew what was going on. But in the great work of resisting a tyrannical government, there must be a division of labor. While therefore Emmet was a leader in the cabinet, and Fitzgerald in the military ar¬ rangements, Curran and Sampson could serve the popular cause better by appearing as the public defenders of the United Irishmen when their lives were in danger. To do this, it was necessary that they should keep their own names free from suspicion. Sampson therefore figures in this history rather as a political writer, and as the lawyer of this Society, than as an active participator in their plans of revolution. Besides, Sampson was not born for a con- * Sampson’s Preface to the American Edition of Curran’s Life. 208 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. spirator. He was a man of peace; and though, he shrunk from no danger to which duty or honor called him, he was disposed to try conciliation to the last, and to hope for peaceful reform. Still all his forbearance could not pre¬ vent his becoming a marked man. His very moderation rendered his influence more formidable to the ruling faction, and made them more eager to destroy him. Sampson had also become acquainted with Lord Moira, and exerted himself to collect authentic facts, showing the atrocities of the government and of the military, which Lord Moira spread before the British House of Lords. From this nobleman he received the most marked kindness. “ He once called me into his cabinet, and after apologizing by anticipation, with all that suavity and nobleness of manner which he possesses, and after I had assured him that I knew him incapable of speaking any thing that ought to offend, he proposed to me to go over and live with him in England ; that he saw a storm gath¬ ering round me, that he knew how I was threatened, that whatever loss it might be, he would endeavor to counter¬ balance 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 pro¬ ceeding excited in me ; but when I did, I answered, that had this offer been made a short time before, I might perhaps have accepted it; that I felt the value of it as much as though 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 op- KINDNESS OF LORD MOIRA. 209 pressed countrymen looked to me for their vindication; and having in such a crisis undertaken the defense of the wretched, I found it as impossible to abandon my duty to them as it would be for his lordship to quit the field of battle in the moment of action.”* Such were the men brought together in Dublin in the spring of 1798. * Memoir of Sampson’s Imprisonments, p. 60. CHAPTER XVII. Secrecy of the Conspiracy.—Fidelity of the Irish to their Oaths.— Spies of Government.—Reynolds betrays them.—They are seized ■while in Council.—Arrest of Lord Edward Fitzgerald.—Trial and Execution of two Brothers. In examining the details of this vast conspiracy, we are amazed at the secrecy with which its proceedings were car¬ ried on. For more than two years a plot had been in prog¬ ress to overturn the government—a conspiracy not confined to a few individuals, but extending throughout the island, and embracing half a million of men. Everywhere men were organizing and arming. All this was known to the government. And yet the authors of this vast movement could not be discovered. The ministers knew that mining operations were going on, and were in continual dread of an explosion, but they knew not from whom the blow was to come. A part of this security was due to the admirable contrivances for secrecy, but these would have availed little but for the sacred fidelity of the Irish to their oath and to each other. Hundreds were thrown into prison, and had the terrors of death before them. Yet no man’s heart failed him. Ho man sought safety for himself by betraying his associates. The only evidence which could be obtained on THE INFORMER REYNOLDS. 211 the state trials was through a few hired informers, who had obtained admission into the lower societies for the sake of betraying their associates, and of selling the blood of their comrades for money. The fact of such general fidelity throughout a whole nation has hardly a parallel in history, and is most honorable to the Irish character. At length a solitary wretch was found base enough to do the work of an informer. One Thomas Reynolds, being pressed for a sum of money, formed the desperate resolu¬ tion of selling himself and sacrificing his associates. He had wormed himself into the confidence of the leaders,* and obtained information that an important meeting was to be held at the house of Oliver Bond, an opulent merchant of Dublin, on the 12th of March. He hastened to the officers of government to communicate the information. A war¬ rant was immediately made out to arrest the whole party, and the next morning at ten o’clock, a magistrate, attended by thirteen sergeants disguised, sauntered down the street, and knocked at Bond’s door. Reynolds had given them the password. They therefore whispered through the door, “ Where’s McCann ? Is Ivers from Carlow come ?” This was the open sesame. They were instantly admitted. The committee were in council up-stairs. Hush, hush! Hot a word! Softly up the stairs they steal. A moment more, and the door is burst, and the room is filled with armed men. There were the conspirators, sitting around a table which was covered with papers. “Hold up your hands,” cried a sergeant, “or I’ll shoot you.” And in a twinkling they were grasped in the strong arms of their captors. The * See United Irishmen, vol. i. p. 160. 212 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. papers were seized, and carried to the council of ministers, while the party was marched off in a body to prison. As it happened, neither Emmet, McNeven, nor Lord Edward Fitzgerald, were present at this meeting. But Emmet and McNeven were soon found. Mr. Thomas Em¬ met, who now resides in New York, says that he remem¬ bers distinctly when his father was taken. It was at the house of Dr. Emmet in Stephen’s-green. He was sleeping with his little brother, when he was awaked by a noise. Looking up, he saw a file of soldiers standing near the window. McNeven had lodgings on Ormond Quay. The officer who arrested him passed Lord Edward Fitzgerald on the stairs, and allowed him to leave the house, not knowing who he was. Emmet and McNeven were both conveyed to Newgate. Sampson, though not one of the Directory, nor even of the society, was included in the warrant. It was particu¬ larly desirable to get hold of him, as he had in his hand the proofs of the atrocities of the government. A short time before, the police had paid him a visit. By chance a friend saw them coming, and while they were engaged in searching another house, he hurried to Sampson’s lodgings and told him what was going on, and advised him if he had any papers which might compromise him, to destroy them instantly. Sampson immediately threw many papers into the fire* One packet he had just time to thrust into * Letters of General C. Cockburn, K. C. H., to the Marquis of Anglesea, on Ireland. THEY ARE BETRAYED. 213 the hands of his servant, who escaped with it through the garden. The police came and found nothing.* . But now they were on his track again. Sampson heard of it in time to elude their search. His first care was to retire to a place of safety, from whence he wrote to the Lord Lieutenant, offering to surrender instantly on * McNeven thus relates a design of Reynolds against his life:—“ When Lord Edward Fitzgerald spoke to me of Reynolds, which was not until early in March, as one of the Kildare colonels, chosen through his influence, I was alarmed, and acquainted him with my strong dislike and distrust of that man. He thought me over-cautious, but it was to the bad opinion I had of Reynolds that I owed my safety, that I escaped from a snare he laid delib¬ erately against my life. “The day before the meeting of the 12th of March, he called at my resi¬ dence twice in one forenoon without finding me. The second time he gave my servant a few lines, in which he requested I would inform him where the Leinster provincial was to hold its next sitting, and to leave a note for him before I went out. His asking a written answer to such a question in those times was so much worse than folly, that it struck me as if all were not right; but I had no idea of the extent of my danger, for I knew nothing of the nature of the con¬ fidence reposed in him by Lord Edward, neither had I any knowledge of those traits of villainy in his character which afterward came out on the trial of Mr. Bond. My precaution arose simply from the obvious indiscretion of the demand, together with my contemptuous opinion of the individual him¬ self, and I adopted the following mode of verifying my suspicion. I folded a piece of blank paper after the manner of a letter, which I laid upon the chimney-piece, and as Reynolds left word with the servant he would come back for an answer before dinner, I waited for him within. Between three and four he made his appearance, when I told him, that as he had come him¬ self, it was unnecessary to hand him my answer, throwing the paper in the fire. Never shall I forget the sudden falling of his countenance and his rue¬ ful expression of disappointment at that moment. I coldly said I knew noth¬ ing of the matter, and looked about as for my hat. He could not recover his composure, but at once withdrew.” 214 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. promise of trial. Seeing no prospect of this, he fled t England. There he was arrested on landing, and brongh back to Dublin. No charge could be brought against him but his servant was inhumanly flogged to extort from hin some confession on which to found an accusation. As h< had committed no crime, no attempt was made to briny him to trial. But he was thrown into the Bridewell as; state-prisoner, and there left to languish for five months During a part of this time his confinement was shared by his heroic wife. Lord Edward was still at large. Perhaps the govern ment, in consideration of his high family, wished him t( escape. Lord Clare, it is well known, expressed such i desire. He thought his step-father might have som( means of learning his retreat, and he said to him:—“Eoi God’s sake, get this young man out of the country, the ports shall be thrown open to you, and no hindrance what¬ ever offered.” His friends urged him to fly. But it was on occasions like this that the heroism of his charactei showed itself. He had courted danger. And now should he desert his friends as the hour of battle drew near? Should he leave them to perish while he sought safety in France ? Never. The heavy blow which had fallen on the society only doubled his zeal. He concealed himself from the officers in pursuit, but he remained near Dublin, and communicated with the leaders of the conspiracy. He rode out by night to reconnoiter the lines of advance, and to choose the point of attack. His friends still knew where to find him. Says Teel- ing, in his Personal Narrative of the Irish Rebellion, “ I LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 215 was one evening in conversation with Lord Edward, when Col. L- entered his apartment, accompanied by two gentlemen with whose persons I was unacquainted, but who, I have reason to believe, were members of the Irish legislature. [Thus had the conspiracy extended into the parliament and the army.] The colonel, after embracing Lord Edward with the warmest affection, laid on his table a large canvas purse filled with gold, and smiling at his lordship, while he tapped him on the shoulder, ‘There,’ said he, ‘ there, my lord, is provision for—’ Both under¬ stood the object.” It was now evident to all that the appeal to arms could be delayed no longer. They must “ rise then, or be forever fallen.” The first week in May they took their resolution to prepare for a general rising before the end of the month. The plan of insurrection was decided, and orders sent off to all parts of the country to be ready for the day of battle. In this awful crisis of expectation, Lord Edward con¬ trived still to see those whom he most loved. His wife had left the Duke of Leinster’s immediately on his disap¬ pearance, and taken a more retired house. Here, as the maid servant entered her room late one evening, she saw to her surprise “ his lordship and Lady Edward sitting to¬ gether by the light of the fire. The youngest child had at his desire been brought down out of his bed for him to see it, and both he and Lady Edward were, as the maid thought, in tears.”* Sweet, tender scene, soon alas, to be covered with the funeral pall! Fitzgerald had eluded pursuit for more than two * Life of Fitzgerald, vol. ii. p. 39. 216 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. months. But the chase grew hot. A reward of £1000 was offered for his arrest. At last the place of his retreat was discovered, and a party of soldiers drew up at the door, while a couple of officers ascended to his chamber. Lord Edward was lying on his bed when a major entered the room with his warrant. In an instant Fitzgerald sprang from his bed “ like a tiger,” and though armed with only a dagger, dashed at his antagonists with such fury that he wounded them both, one mortally, and it was not until he had himself received a ball in the shoulder, and till the guard from below was called up, that he was secured. He was mounted on a sedan chair, and thus transported to the castle. The excitement of his struggle now reacted, and with the loss of blood, caused his spirits to sink into sadness. The Lord Lieutenant immediately sent his private secretary to see that he had every possible attention. Says this gentleman:—“ I found Lord Edward leaning back on a couple of chairs, in the office of the secretary in the war department, his arm extended, and supported by the surgeon, who was dressing his wound. His countenance was pallid, but serene; and when I told him, in a low voice, not to be overheard, my commission from the Lord Lieutenant, and that I was going to break the intelligence of what had occurred to Lady Edward, asking him, with every assurance of my fidelity and secrecy, whether there was any confidential communica¬ tion he wished to be made to her ladyship, he answered, 4 No, no,—thank you,—-nothing, nothing n-rly, ? H-X- VIOLENT MEASURES OF GOVERNMENT. 217 The agitation excited in Dublin by this event was in¬ tense. The arrest took place just at evening. Word was carried to the Lord Lieutenant, who had gone to the theater. A female relative of Lord Edward was sitting in the next box, and heard it all. She was so overcome, that Lady Castlereagh had to leave the house with her. As soon as the news got abroad, the people were seen col¬ lected in groups in the streets, with anxious countenances, and conversing with great earnestness, so that it was strongly apprehended that an attempt at rescue would be made that night. Three or four days after, Ncilson, a noted United Irishman, and a man of powerful frame, was discovered reconnoitring the prison, and was arrested.* There remained no alternative but an appeal to arms. Lord Moira had brought forward in February a motion for conciliation, but it had utterly failed. There was no onger the least hope of a peaceable reform. Seeing how Lings were going, and wearied out by finding all warn- ngs neglected, the opposition, with Grattan at their head, ormally seceded from the Ilouse of Commons. Instead >f redress, the measures of the government seemed per- everingly designed to goad the people into insurrection, jord Castlereagh afterward acknowledged that they had aken measures “ to make the rebellion explode.” Events now follow each other fast, as the tragedy rushes o its catastrophe. The stream of political events, which ometimes moves sluggishly along—sometimes whirls bout in eddies, now began to dart forward with a rapid urrent. Its motion soon became fearfully swift. The * Life of Fitzgerald, yol, ii. p. 65. K 218 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. ship of state was fairly in the rapids, and men trembled as they heard distinctly the roar of the cataract. On the 30th of March martial law was proclaimed throughout Ireland. This was the signal of preparations for war. The arrest of the leaders precipitated the rebellion. When such grave councillors as Emmet were taken away, the direction of affairs fell into rasher hands. It was then that John Sheares was chosen to fill a vacancy in the Di¬ rectory. His brother Henry was also a United Irishman, and entered into preparations for the rebellion. The ardor of these fresh soldiers of liberty led them intc danger, and to the sacrifice of their lives. The whole history of the rebellion furnishes nothing more melancholy than the fate of these brothers. Of five sons they were all who survived to support the old age of their mother. They were devotedly attached to each other, and were now threatened by the same fate. They were arraigned and tried together. The intense excite¬ ment of the case prolonged the trial to a late hour. Il was after midnight when the examination of witnesses closed, and Mr. Curran rose to address the jury. The court had then sat fifteen hours, with but a recess of a few minutes. But still the trial must go on. The court-room was near Newgate, and the prisoners in their beds could hear the voice of Curran at five o’clock the next morning still addressing the jury. It was daybreak before the judge rose to smn up the case. The jury retired for a few minutes, and returned with a verdict of Guilty. As soon as it was announced, the brothers fell into each other’s THE EYE OF BATTLE. 219 arms. At three o’clock that afternoon they received sen¬ tence, and the next day they were executed. Their love was strong in death. They came on the scaffold holding each other by the hand. Their bodies were laid side by side in their place of rest. These arrests were but just in time to save the govern¬ ment. Lord Edward Fitzgerald had been apprehended on Saturday, and the Shearses on Monday. The rebellion was to begin on Wednesday. Their arrest brought to light the fearful mine on which the government was standing. Poor Lord Edward’s career was ended. Stone walls and iron bars were now the sight which met his eye. No friend was permitted to visit him. Alone he watched the long, long day, too happy when the light of heaven was about to close around him forever. The other state-prisoners were forced to pace their cells in silence when most they wished to be abroad. The sound of war was on the gale. Let us leave here the im¬ patient spirits of the leaders confined within prison walls, to glance at the fortunes of their countrymen in the field. CHAPTER XVIII. The Rebellion of 1 ^798.—Plot to take Dublin.—Rising in Kildare.— Engagements. The plot was out. Tlie conspirators were in prison. Their papers had been seized. The fatal secret was known,—that the niglit of the 23d of May was fixed for 'I the insurrection. On the 22d, Lord Castlereagh came into the Parliament House with the appalling message, that the next day the storm of war would hurst upon the island. The spirit of the Commons rose with danger. They threw hack the threat of insurrection with defiance. To show their loyalty, they marched in a hody to the Castle to pledge the Lord Lieutenant that they would stand hy him to the last. Ho words can describe the state of Dublin at this period. There was treason in the capital. “ Committees were frequently discovered in deliberation; blacksmiths were detected in the act of making pikes; and sentinels were frequently fired at, or knocked down at their posts. Immense quantities of pikes and other arms were seized in different parts of the city.”* It was said that the houses of obnoxious persons had been marked. Ho man was * Sir Richard Musgrave’s History of the Rebellion, vol. i. p. 355. ALARM IN THE CAPITAL. 221 safe. Neighbors shunned each other. Masters were afraid of their servants. It was knoAvn that a great number had taken the oath. Even the servant of the lord mayor was found to be implicated in the conspiracy. He had engaged to admit his confederates into the house at dead of night. The most loyal citizen knew not but there were conspira¬ tors under his oavii roof. He might be betrayed by one who Avaited at his table, or piked by his porter at his OAvn door. Every means Avas employed to guard against surprise. On the day of the 23d, the streets of Dublin were filled with troops, marching to points of defense. Long columns of infantry filed out through the avenues. Officers gal¬ loped through the streets. The cavalry rattled over the pavement. Cannon were dragged to the outposts of the city. Dublin is defended on its north and south sides by broad and deep canals. The troops were posted in strong force on all the bridges. A day or two after, they were fortified by gates and palisades. The troops lay down on their arms. The night was passed in anxious suspense. The capital breathed heavily. But its tranquillity was not disturbed. The vigorous measures of repression preserved Dublin from an outbreak at this time and throughout the Avar. While these fearful preparations Avere going on, the face of nature seemed strangely in contrast Avith the human passions that raged above it. The beautiful month of May was melting into the warm, blue Summer. The earth had come forth in blossoms and in floAvers. The island had put on its robe of spring, unconscious that its 222 THE REBELLION. beauty was so soon to be stained with, blood. It was remarked by all that the weather was unusually serene. The sky was without a cloud, an omen which the people interpreted as the blessing of Heaven on their cause ; and some who were strong in faith prophesied that no more rain should fall until Ireland was free. The plot had been to seize the mail-coaches coming out of Dublin, on all the great routes, and thus cut off com¬ munication between the capital and the country. The burning of these was to be the signal of insurrection to the whole kingdom. Already for some nights fires had been seen burning on the Wicklow Mountains, which were evidently intended as signals to the insurgents.* They were then at the first push to attack a large body of troops which lay seven miles south of Dublin. At the same moment, a rising was to take place within the capital. Silently assembling in lanes and alleys, armed with pikes and other weapons, at a given signal, they were to move to the assault. One party was to attack Newgate, and rescue Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the other state-prisoners. Two bodies, advancing on the Castle, were to assault it at once, in front and rear. A select party provided with ladders was to mount to the chambers, and seize the Lord Lieutenant. The privy council were to be secured in their own houses. Thus the Rebellion would be master of the government at a blow. * “ From a house in an elevated situation in Dublin, I could discern them at a great distance with a telescope, and it is astonishing with what celerity they increased or diminished them, by which they answered the purpose of a telegraph.”—Musgrave, vol. i. p. 267. RISING IN KILDARE. 223 The plan was well laid, and could it have been carried out with courage and secrecy, might have proved success¬ ful. But the government had been apprised of all their plans, and acted with a promptness which disconcerted the insurgents. Still the appointment of the 23d of May was observed in many places, particularly in the county of Kildare. On that night few of the inhabitants retired to rest. Weapons were brought forth from places of concealment. Peasants took them departure from the cabin door with stealthy steps. Along the roads was heard the tread of hurrying feet. A few hours saw collected a large body of armed men, grim warriors, who had never stood before in battle array, —gaunt figures on which hunger and oppression had done their work. Some came shouldering a rusty firelock, some trailing an old blunderbuss, but most armed with long, deadly pikes. Over their ranks fluttered a green flag. It was the flag of Ireland. It was about midnight that the insurgents assembled. Their blood was not suffered to cool before they were led to battle. Two towns were attacked that night. Prosperous was carried by surprise. The barrack was set on fire. A detachment of militia perished by the flames, and by the pikes of the insurgents. The captain is said to have been unusually severe in the infliction of military executions, and to have fallen by the hand of a man whose house he had burned.* At Naas another party had nearly stolen on the town, when a dragoon came galloping in with the * Taylor’s History. 224 THE REBELLION. alarm, tlie drum beat to arms, and the attack was re¬ pulsed. In tlie course of a few days a number of actions bad been fought, but too detached for us to follow. Acting without concert, and in confused masses, the insurgents were generally defeated. But they cut off several small bodies of troops, and took some arms and ammunition. They obstructed the roads so that for a week no mail arrived in the capital. They carried Maynooth. They surprised a military party at Dunboyne, within eight miles of Dublin. The result, too, in several combats, was such as to inspire them with confidence. At Kilcullen a body of rebels had taken post about the church. General Dundas rode up with a troop of forty horsemen, and without waiting for his infantry, dashed upon them. But the Irish pikes proved more than a match for the horse and his rider. The cavalry recoiled. Again they rushed to the shock. Again horses fell backward, and riders rolled from their saddles. At the third charge the troop was almost wholly destroyed. Two captains and twenty- two privates were killed on the spot, and ten so badly wounded that most of them died soon after.* This little affair did much to remove the terror which the insurgents at first had felt of the charges of cavalry. Though these actions were small, they spread universal consternation. Every man trembled under a sense of insecurity. Men on horseback were shot at from behind hedges. Often in a light night, armed men were seen stealing about the residences of the gentry. The sky was * Musgrave. GENERAL PANIC. 225 reddened with conflagrations. Loyalists, who remained in the country, were obliged to holt and bar, and garrison their houses.* Others fled from their homes, and sought safety in the towns. Small military posts were deserted, that the troops might concentrate in large bodies. But the county of Kildare was unfavorable to this guerilla warfare. No mountains guard it from approach. No wild fastnesses hide the peasant from his foe. Among the hills, climbing among rocks, and darting into the thick forest, the peasant was the equal of the soldier. But the extensive plains of Kildare present no defense against an army. They lie close to the capital, and were of course easily overrun. Troops of cavalry scoured the country. Hundreds laid down their arms. Still a band under the heroic Aylmer kept the field, and by retreating rapidly, now to the bog of Allen, and now to the Wicklow Moun¬ tains, they kept the standard of rebellion afloat. This very band was the last that surrendered in the war, and then only on the promise of a general amnesty. When the news reached Dublin that the rebellion had actually broken out, the lord lieutenant issued a proclama¬ tion, “ that His Majesty’s general officers had orders to punish according to martial law, by death or otherwise, as their judgment should approve, all persons acting, or in any manner assisting in the rebellion.” When the proc¬ lamation was announced to the House of Commons, a * “ Our house is a perfect garrison; eighteen soldiers sleep in our saloon, and we are all blocked up, except by the hall door, and one door to the kitchen yard; and are frequently ordered all into the house upon the alarm being given that the rebels are near.”—A letter quoted in Moore’s Life of Fitzgerald, vol. ii. p. 125. K* 226 THE REBELLION. motion was made to give it a retrospective effect, so that the state-prisoners in Dublin could be tried bj court- martial. This was equivalent to a sentence of death. “ I believe, without exaggeration,” says Sampson, “ that this was no less than to say that we should all be murdered.” Even Lord Castlereagh was shocked at this savage proposal, and begged his ferocious partisans not to drive the nation to despair. This proclamation let loose upon the country the spirit of war in its most terrible form. It legalized every barbarity. It became a war of extermination. Military executions were the order of the day. It was understood that no prisoners were to be made. Those taken were hanged without ceremony; often with no proof whatever of having taken part in the insurrection. Officers and men made sport of shooting at poor wretches in the fields, whom they afterward bayoneted to put them out of pain. The form of a trial could save no man Avhom a blood¬ thirsty revenge wished to sacrifice. Some of the officers who sat upon these trials were mere boys. Witnesses wholly unworthy of credit were allowed to swear away the lives of peaceable men ; and sometimes whipped to force from them testimony on which to rest a condemnation. In the little town of Carnew, fifty-four prisoners, many of whom had been confined only on suspicion, were taken out and shot in the presence of officers. At Dunlavin thirty- nine in the same way were butchered in cold blood. These atrocities, as we shall see, soon provoked a terrible retribu¬ tion. To the unlimited authority given to the King’s officers to put their prisoners to death, are to be ascribed the horrors of this exterminating war. CHAPTER XIX. Insurrection in Wexford.—Provoked by Cruelties of the Soldiery.— The Rising headed by a Priest.—Battle of Oulart Hill.—Battle of Enniscorthy.—Encampment on Vinegar Hill. But the insurrection had not been in progress four days in Kildare, when the attention of the government was called to a much more formidable movement in a quarter from which it was least expected. In the dis¬ tracted state of Ireland, it seemed that there was at least one spot of peace and quiet, the county of Wexford. Here the gentry generally resided on their estates, and were surrounded by a loyal and industrious peasantry. While other parts of Ireland were in constant alarm from Orangemen and Defenders, the men of Wexford were plowing their farms, and gathering their crops. So pro¬ verbial had been this county for good order, that property was considered more secure, and rents were higher, than in almost any other part of the kingdom. The organiza¬ tion of United Irishmen had extended less than in any other county of Ireland. So secure was the government of its allegiance, that at the approach of the insurrection but a small body of troops was stationed in it to preserve order. Unfortunately these were more fitted to provoke than to repress rebellion. 228 THE REBELLION. Not a liaucl would have been lifted against the govern¬ ment, liad not the people been goaded to desperation by the atrocities of the military. Martial law bad been pro¬ claimed. A regiment of tbe North Cork militia was sta¬ tioned in Wexford. Tbe savage cruelties of these men exceed belief, and were only surpassed by tbe cowardice with which they afterward ran away from battle. Men suspected of being United Irishmen were whipped or half hung. Cabins were burnt. The peasantry were thrown into such an agony of terror, that they rushed to arms in self-defense, feeling that it was better to die in battle than by the lash of then* tormentors. The county of Wexford is well situated for defense. It lies forty miles south of Dublin, and is defended on the south and east by St. George’s Channel, and on the north by a chain of mountains between it and the county of Wicklow. The roads winding among hills present ex¬ cellent points for defense. It is thirty-nine miles long, and twenty-four broad. Within this narrow space were exe¬ cuted the operations of this memorable civil war. The first rising was headed by a Catholic priest, whose name soon became famous. Father John Murphy was the son of a farmer. He had been educated at Seville in Spain. He now spread the alarm of war by lighting a fire on a hill which was answered from a distance. A band of insurgents soon collected around him, with which he took post on the hill of Oulart. A detachment of 110 picked men of the North Cork militia marched to attack them.. The terror which they had struck into the poor peasantry left them not a doubt that they should easily BATTLE OF OULART HILL. 229 scatter tlie rebels with great slaughter. They fired two volleys and charged furiously up the hill. The Irish were seized with a panic at this first onset of regular troops, and broke their ranks and fled. Father John flew to their head, shouting that troops were advancing also from the other side of the hill—that they were surrounded—that there was no retreat—they must conquer or die. Quick as thought they wheeled, and rushed upon the troops, who were advancing in some disorder, with such fury that all but five were instantly killed. These escaped only to spread the terror of the rebel arms. The moral effect of this first victory was immense. A similar body of insurgents had been defeated that day on another hill a few miles off, and had these too been scat¬ tered, they would perhaps have dispersed to their homes, and the rebellion been crushed in the bud. But this success gave them confidence. It blew up their enthu¬ siasm. As they saw the uniforms of more than a hundred dead soldiers scattered over the hill, every peasant felt strong in his courage and in his trusty pike. The tidings flew fast. Fires blazed from the hills. The insurrection spread in all quarters. And thousands of peasants came flocking to the camp. The military who had been so merciless to the people had now their turn to fear. The men who had escaped were pale with terror, as they told of the savage ferocity with which the rebels fought. They found that it was one thing to tie up an Irish peasant and whip him in their barracks, and quite another to meet him when “his foot was on his native heath,” when his arm was free, and a 230 THE REBELLION. pike in liis hand. At Grorey tlie whole population, troops and all, abandoned the town, and fled for their lives. Many came to the priests for protection, and thinking that their only safety was in becoming Catholics, begged to be baptized. To the honor of the priests, be it said, that their interference saved many lives. To the panic which this battle caused, is to be referred more than one disgrace- fid defeat of the war. Father Murphy did not suffer this enthusiasm to be lost. The next day he marched to attack Enniscorthy. This town is divided into two parts by the river Slaney, which is crossed by a stone bridge. The insurgents ap¬ proached on the western side. They drove before them horses and cattle to disorder the ranks of the enemy, and with loud shouts advanced to the attack. They soon penetrated the town, which they set on fire. The troops at the gates were forced to fall back to the bridge. Here they maintained a most obstinate defense. Some idea of the severity of the engagement may be formed from the fact that one company fired forty rounds each man. But the river at this time was low, and by wading up to the middle, and some of them up to the neck, the rebels were able to cross, and to take the troops in flank. The town was set on fire on the eastern side of the river. The order was given to retreat. All was now horror in the town. Men, women and children, mothers carrying their infants on their backs, fled through the burning streets. This terrified multitude poured forth on the road to Wexford, fourteen miles to the south. Happily they were not pur¬ sued, and succeeded in making their escape. ENCAMPMENT ON VINEGAR HILL. 231 The rebels, too content with their victory to chase the flying foe, now set about establishing an entrenched camp. The town of Enniscorthy lies at the foot of a lofty emi¬ nence, called Vinegar Hill. As the setting sun fell across the landscape, thousands of armed peasants might be seen climbing up the height. As this was the center of their operations for the rest of the war, we may mount the hill with them, and take a look at their camp. On the summit stood an old windmill, which they con¬ verted into a guard-house for prisoners. On the tower they planted the green flag of Ireland, which floated in full view of the country for miles around. Along the edge of the hill they threw up an intrenchment, on which they planted a few cannon. Sentinels were stationed around the hill, and videts along the roads. The bell of the church of Enniscorthy, which had been taken down, was swung between two beams to mark the hours for changing guard, and to strike the alarm in case of a surprise. The appearance of the encampment was motley enough. A few white tents dotted the field, under which their chiefs lay down to rest. But the people slept under the open sky. From this exposure they suffered little as the wea¬ ther was uncommonly mild. In such a promiscuous multi¬ tude no great discipline could be preserved. Such was the want of order that many, who lay down by their arms at night, missed them in the morning. Gordon relates—what I hope for the honor of my heroes is not true—that “often, when a rebel was in a sound sleep, he was robbed by some associate of his gun, or other article at that time valuable, 232 THE REBELLION. so that many, to prevent stealing, liad to sleep flat on their bellies, with their hat and shoes tied under their breasts.” In the day-time the camp was thronged with a multi¬ tude of women, who came to bring provisions to their hus¬ bands and brothers. All ages were collected, old men with gray beards, leaning on the long pike as on a staff: and young men, as brave lads as ever skipped across a bog, or danced on the village green by moonlight. Men and boys lay about sprawling on the ground, or were col¬ lected in groups talking over the fortunes of the war, or listening to some belligerent priest who had taken the command to fight the good fight in a literal sense. There were many priests in the camp, and they had great influence over the wild peasantry. Mass was per¬ formed as regularly as the morning parade. Sermons were preached to inflame the religious fanaticism of the people, and assure them that they had engaged in a holy war. One priest declared in a sermon, “ That God Almighty be¬ friended them in all their operations for the attainment of liberty; and that the whole of the business was as visibly his work, as that of dividing the Red Sea by Moses.” The Irish derived great confidence from the presence of their priests, for they believed them possessed of almost mirac¬ ulous power. They said, “Father John Murphy caught red-hot bullets in his hand.” Another priest took bullets out of his pocket, and assured the people that they had hit him in battle in different parts of his body, and that they could not do him any injury. The Irish thought that they would derive a part of this security from being blessed by a priest. They had especial veneration for Father Keane, SCENES IN THE REBEL CAMP. 233 a little, gray-headed old man, commonly called “the bles¬ sed priest of Bannow.” He constantly visited the rebel camp. He rode on a pony, which was led by two pike- men, who cried out with a loud voice, “ Make way for the blessed priest of Bannow.” The crowd fell on their knees, and asked his blessing. He distributed a great many little scapulars to the rebels, assuring them that with these on, a ball from a heretic gun could do them no more injury than a pea.* Often they knelt down, kissed the ground and crossed themselves. Then rising up, they were in an in¬ stant in all the tumult of war. Again they were around their camp-fires, cooking a soldier’s meal, or drinking suc¬ cess to the Irish republic. Shouts of victory rang round. Nor was music wanting to complete the pomp and circum¬ stance of war. Often was their patriotic ardor kindled with sound of fife and drum. Then some stentorian voice burst into a song to their new-born liberty, while thou¬ sands joined in the chorus of Erin mavourneen, Erin go bragh. With this comedy of war were mingled other scenes most sad and tragical. The government officers had shown no mercy to the rebels who fell into their hands. The court-martial sentenced them to execution in the most summary manner. And now the rebels had it in their power to retaliate. Many prisoners had been brought into the camp on V inegar Hill. A revolutionary tribunal was set up, like those in the French Reign of Terror, which passed instant judgment on Orangemen and loyalists. Many to whom fate had denied the milder doom of perish- * Musgrave. 234 THE REBELLION. ing in battle, now suffered military execution. Sucli was the swift retribution which came on those who had driver a brave people to despair. The passions of the rebel army were beyond control. They raged with savage joy at then power of revenge. Thus each day passed with shout, and song, and blood. Night put an end to the work of death. When twilight fell over the scene, shouts of vengeance, and the shrieks of the unhappy victims, grew fainter on the hill. And peasant and prisoner sank down together into a troubled sleep. CHAPTER XX. Panic at Wf.xfobd.—The Rebels march on that Town.—Battle of the Three Rocks. — Flight of the King’s Troops. — The Insurgents MARCH AGAINST GoREY.-ThEY DEFEAT COLONEL WaLPOLE. Meanwhile all was dismay at Wexford, the capital of the county. This was but fourteen miles distant. Some who had effected their escape from the battle came riding into Wexford, with their horses in full foam. At the same time a heavy cloud of smoke was seen to roll up from En- niscorthy. In a few hours a multitude of fugitives were descried hurrying along the road. The agitation and dis¬ tress painted in their countenances added to the general con¬ sternation. They poured through the town, and not think¬ ing themselves safe even there, crowded on board the ships in the harbor. The bodies of the officers who had fallen at Oulart had been recovered, and were now brought into Wexford, which added to the general dismay, while the widows of the soldiers who had been killed in that battle, were raving through the streets, filling the air with their cries. Instantly the town assumed the appearance of war. Houses were closed, doors and windows barred. Streets were barricaded with huge piles of stones and timbers. 23G THE REBELLION. Guards were mounted at every exposed point, and addi¬ tional troops, both horse and foot, marched into the town. Two days before this the military had seized three gen¬ tlemen of influence in the county who were suspected of favoring a revolution. After the battle of Oulart, the North Cork militia wished to revenge the fall of their com¬ rades by massacring these prisoners. But the tide of war ebbed too fast. And as danger to themselves grew immi¬ nent, they came to the jail, not to shoot their captives, but to beg them to go as a deputation to the camp of the rebels on Vinegar Hill, to obtain mercy for the town. If the Irish had been elated before at their victories, the arrival of an offer of surrender completed their enthusiasm. The very proposal showed the weakness or the terror of the enemy, and caused it to be instantly rejected. The in¬ surgents had hesitated what town to attack next. But this decided them. “ To Wexford,” was the cry, which flew along the ranks. And they were soon under march. But in picturing the march of this host, which seemed to have sprung out of the earth, we must not conceive of a regular army moving in battle array. No long, glittering lines moved with even tread. Like the French sans culottes, the Irish came in their peasant dresses to the war. Their officers presented a more dashing appearance, as they sat on horses, and wore sashes and red cross belts, with sabers and pistols. A few others had picked up horses. But they were in want of saddles. 'This, however, was soon provided for. In the gentlemen’s houses which they plun¬ dered, were large libraries. A grave folio, opened in the middle, and laid softly on the backbone, made Pat a com- THE REBELS MARCH ON WEXFORD. 237 fortable seat. This was fastened with a rope, and thus mounted, the Irish cavalry jogged on in the crowd. No long train of baggage-wagons retarded the march. Half a dozen small field-pieces composed their whole artillery. But a small part of the infantry bore fire-arms. In their swift marches they presented the appearance of a moving forest of pikes. Such was the body that now descended the slope of Vinegar Hill, and poured down the valley of the Slaney. Father John, mounted on horseback, and carrying a cru- ;ifix, led the way. Fainter and fainter the sounds of war lied down the vale. This motley army encamped at the Three Rocks, on the ;astern end of the mountain of Forth, overlooking Wex- ord. But General Fawcett the commander at Duncannon Fort, was now on a march with a large force for the relief of the town. When within seven miles he halted, and sent orward a detachment, which advanced close to the moun- ain of Forth without knowing the position of the enemy. Vt the moment they discovered it, the insurgents rushed ipon them with loud yells, and attacked them with such ury that they were utterly destroyed. Fugitives carried he disastrous tidings to their commander, who retreated in error to the fort, and immediately sent off his family to England. By this victory the rebels acquired a large quantity of rms and ammunition. Two cannon they dragged to the op of the ridge, and when several hours later the gar- ison of Wexford made a sortie, they were driven back vith a fire from these guns, which were aimed with a pre- 238 THE REBELLION. cision which showed that there were some skillful gunnel in the camp of the rebels. The sallying army instantly retreated into the towi They now thought discretion the better part of valor. Tk soldiers whose cruelties had provoked the insurrection, di< not stay to fight. They evacuated the town in a panic Soon after the victorious insurgents poured across the mag nificent bridge of Wexford with loud shouts of exultation They instantly marched to the jail, and released all th state-prisoners. Among them they found Beauchamj Bagnal Harvey, a man who was a great favorite with th people, and whom they elected to be their commander-in chief. Meanwhile the political character of the town had un dergone a miraculous transformation. But an hour ago while in possession of the king’s troops, it was the mos;, loyal town in his majesty’s dominions. How not a trace of loyalty was to be seen. The insurgents were welcomed as good fellows who were fighting for the independence of their country. The houses were decorated with green, Doors were thrown open, and the men invited to enter and refresh themselves. Many in heart favored the Rebellion, but had not dared to avow their sentiments before. Mus- grave says, “ Provisions had been so scarce that the king’s troops were almost starved; and yet, as soon as the rebels entered the town, long tables, well served with food, were laid for them in the streets.” Some who had worn the dress of officers were glad to change their regimentals for a ragged coat, and breeches out at the knees. They unbent from the military strut, and slouched into a beggarly gait, THE INSURGENTS MOVE NORTH. 239 with their eyes humbly cast on the ground. Some so far forgot their warlike character as to hide under women’s clothes. The retreat of the royal troops resembled a flight. They hurried on in consternation, butchering the poor peasants whom they met on the route, as if that were valor, when flying from a foe they dared not face. They pushed with, all speed for Duncannon Fort. Many at this moment de¬ clared that a revolution was inevitable—that the people had arisen, and that nothing could withstand them. And they were already contemplating with despondency their probable banishment from the country. These rapid marches and battles placed nearly the whole county of Wexford in the hands of the people. They now divided their army. One division marched to the north to attack Gorey, and force their way toward Dublin, while the main body under Harvey turned to the west, and took post on Carrickbyrne Mountain. The town of Gorey had been in dread of an attack since the battle of Oulart Hill. The people had deserted it the next day, but not finding themselves pursued, after several days they ventured back. The approach of the rebels now threatened them again. On the first of June, says Rev. Mr. Gordon, “ I happened to be on the road near Gorey, \vhen a man on the top of a house cried out to me that all the country to the south Avas in a blaze; for straggling parties of the rebels, attending the motions of the main body, had, as usual, set fire to many houses. I had hardly got a view of the conflagration when I heard 240 THE REBELLION. a discharge of musketry, which continued some time with¬ out intermission.” It was the custom of the rebels to pitch their camps on commanding hills, which at once afforded a good military position, and a wide view of the surrounding country. They now took post on Corrigrua Hill, seven miles from Gorey, and here rested several days. The loyalists were in greater consternation than ever at this near presence of the enemy. But on the 4th of June they were completely re¬ assured by seeing 1500 fine troops under General Loftus march into the town. As these long columns, with proud step and glancing arms, moved through the streets, every loyal breast swelled high. Women and children gathered to see them pass. And when the horses dragged lumber¬ ing along five heavy pieces of artillery, the least warlike longed to hear the cannon’s roar, which was to scatter for¬ ever the forces of the Rebellion. Hot a doubt was enter¬ tained that the final blow was now to be struck. The army was to march to the attack on the following morning. Among the officers was Colonel Walpole, a favorite of Lord Camden, and who held a confidential situation in the Castle. He had now come down from Dublin that he might have the glory of finishing the war. Though a subordinate officer, no sooner had he entered the camp than he began to give his opinion in a forward manner, as though he were commander-in-chief. General Loftus was annoyed with his officiousness. But he feared to offend him, lest it should bring down upon him the displeasure of his master at the capital. He accordingly assigned him the command of one WALPOLE’S DEFEAT. 241 of the detachments which was to march against the enemy the following morning. ISTo sooner had the dram beat at break of day than he was at the head of his column. The day of his glory had come. lie was dressed in full uniform, and mounted on a tall, gray horse. The army now filed out of Gorey in two divisions. General Loftus charged Colonel Walpole to proceed with the utmost caution, and to let him know how he went on. But what is prudence to the brave ? He pushed forward to the battle lest his general should arrive first, and antici¬ pate the victory. Meanwhile the rebels were not asleep. They on their part had been preparing to march on Gorey. Very early that morning they received intelligence of the movements of the royal army, and at the same time that the columns were filing out of Gorey by two roads, the rebel army with better judgment was descending the hill of Corrigrua in a solid body. Colonel Walpole had not gone far when some rebels were seen at a distance. His officers suggested that they should stop and form, and send out an advanced guard. He put an end to their advice by telling them that he was lommanding officer. As the number of rebels increased, lis officers again begged that the army might be deployed nto line, and halt until he could communicate his situation o General Loftus. He answered that the victory should >e Colonel Walpole’s, and not General Loftus’s. He could lot stop a moment. He said, “ He was afraid the rebels vould escape him.” There was no danger. L 242 THE REBELLION. Eager to snatch the triumph, he was advancing at the head of his column, ivhen, at a turn in the road, he found himself within a few paces of the enemy. A confused en¬ gagement immediately commenced. The insurgents poured in a deadly fire from the fields on either side of the road. Colonel Walpole was shot through the head. The troops were thrown into disorder, and in a few minutes were in full retreat back to the town, which they had left but an hour ago in all the confidence of victory.* Meanwhile General Loftus heard the firing, but being at a distance, and on another road, he could not reach the scene of action. He immediately dispatched a company of grenadiers across the fields. This however came up only in time to be intercepted by the victorious rebels, and was wholly destroyed. The general continued his march along the highway, and coming round at last to the field of battle, beheld with horror Colonel Walpole stretched upon the earth. He hurried on in the track of the insur¬ gents toward Gorey, and when after this long circuit, he came in sight of the town which he had left in the morn¬ ing, he found the insurgents posted on a hill which com¬ mands it, and was fired upon from the cannon which had just been taken from his own troops. He did not judge it prudent to attack them in this strong position, and while flushed with victory, nor to enter the town under their guns. He accordingly made a rapid retreat to Carnew. The detachment of Colonel Walpole had not dared to stop in Gorey, but rushing through the town, fled toward * For the rashness of Colonel Walpole see Sir Richard Musgrave’s His¬ tory of the Rebellion, yol. i. p. 491-494. CRISIS OF THE WAR. 243 Arklow. It was a moment of general panic. The rebel flag floats on Gorey hill! There is a sound of triumph in the camp. Afar off the terrified fugitives hear the noise of the captains and the shouting. Parties flying from the spot are scattered over the country far and near. "War- horses, with no riders in their saddles, dash away like wild steeds on the desert. Women and children, piled on jaunting cars, go tilting along the road. How is the time for horsemen to ride. Eide, ride, brave yeomen; your life is in your horses’ speed. On, on, up the hill they spur, and down the steep they plunge. Across the bridges they clatter, racing for dear life. At Arklow a council of war was hastily called, at which it was deter¬ mined to abandon that town. It was not possible to pre¬ serve order. Soldiers threw away their packs to lighten their march. Some mounted on horses did not stop until they reached Dublin. Others sank down by the roadside when their horses could carry them no farther. This was the most critical moment of the war. The hopes of the insurgents were raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. Father Michael Murphy wrote to a friend in Dublin: “ Great events are ripening. In a few days we shall meet. We shall have an army of brave republicans, one hundred thousand, with fourteen pieces of cannon, on Tuesday, before Dublin. Your heart will beat high at the news. You will rise with a proportionable force.” The Irish government now became seriously alarmed. The spell of their invincibility was gone. It was evident that the rebellion could be crushed only by an overwhelm¬ ing force. Men who longed for peace implored the gov- 244 THE REBELLION. ernment to try conciliation. But it was too late. The war was begun. They were committed to the contest, and were determined to fight it through. They now acted with a vigor worthy of the crisis. The troops which had fled from Arklow were instantly ordered back, and sup¬ ported by large reinforcements. CHAPTER XXI. Battle of Arkj.ow and New Ross.—Massacres at Scullabogue and Wexford.—The Armies converging.—Sir John Moore defeats the Insurgents near Wexford.—Battle of Vinegar Hill. Had the insurgents, immediately after Walpole’s defeat, marched upon Arklow, it must have fallen without a blow, and a clear road would have been opened to Dublin. But they were detained several days at Gorey for want of am¬ munition. And when at last they moved north, Arklow was held by a fresh garrison of sixteen hundred men. And now the roads were black with approaching masses. As the rebel army drew near the town, they halted to form. Each company had a green flag with the harp of Erin in the center. Officers were seen on horse¬ back riding through the ranks, encouraging the men. Then all moved forward. Raising their hats on their pikes and giving the most dreadful yells, they rushed to the attack. They had been divided into two columns. One of these moving along the sea-shore with great ra¬ pidity, drove in the guard, penetrated the town, and set it on fire. The battle now raged on all sides. The Commander-in-chief wished to order a retreat. The brave Colonel Skerrett begged him to stand firm. He said, 246 THE REBELLION. “We can not hope for victory except by preserving our ranks ; if we break, all is lost, and from the spirit which I have seen displayed at this awful crisis by the Durham regiment, I can not bear the idea of its giving ground.”* Discipline soon evinced its usual superiority over wild courage. The ammunition of the rebels was also ex¬ hausted, and they were compelled to fall back toward Gorey. This kept the rebellion from spreading to the north. Had it burst this barrier, it would have swept through the county of Wicklow, and on to the very gates of the capital. A similar defeat in the south, kept it from spreading in that direction. While these scenes were transpiring at the north, a battle yet more obstinate and bloody had been fought at the south. The same day that the victorious rebels en¬ tered Gorey, the force under Harvey descended from Carrickbyrne Mountain, and advanced to Corbet Hill , within a mile of New Boss. This town lies on the river Barrow, and is the key to the counties of Kilkenny and Waterford. If this were carried, the insurrection would at once become general throughout the south of Ireland. Reinforcements had been pouring into it for several days. It had now a garrison of twelve hundred disciplined troops. Early on the following morning the battle began, and was the hardest of the war. It raged for ten hours. Never was the native courage of the Irish more fully dis¬ played, nor on the other hand the immeasurable advan¬ tage of discipline over wild valor. The insurgents at first * Gordon’s History, p. 157. BATTLE OF NEW ROSS. 247 dislodged the troops from behind the walls and ditches, where they were posted, and pressing on, drove them through the town, and across the river. But this first suc¬ cess gained, the Irish gave themselves up to drinking, and forgot the foe. Vigilant and daring, the troops poured back into the town, and the assailants in turn were driven out. Again the place was carried by desperate assault. The masses of the insurgents rushed headlong on the guns of the enemy. The British cannon swept through streets choked with men. The Irish dashed on over the dead. One man, rushing up to the mouth of a cannon, thrust his hat and wig into it, shouting to his comrades, “ Come on, boys, she’s stopped!” At that instant the gunner applied the match, and he was blown to atoms. Again the town was lost by want of discipline. Three times that day were the royal troops driven from their position, and three times they regained it. At last, after ten hours’ desperate fighting, they remained masters of the place, but nearly one fourth of their number had fallen. As the tide of battle ebbed and flowed, the political character of the panic-struck population changed. The orange ribbon was changed for the green, and the green for the orange. Some of the affrighted inhabitants changed sides two or three times the same day. The rebel army drew off, defeated for the time, but not dismayed. They retired to a neighboring mountain, where they pitched their camp, answering regularly the morning gun of the garrison. 24S THE REBELLION. Tlie most horrible feature of this civil war was the military executions and the wholesale massacres. In the heat of battle neither side gave quarter. It was like the Avar betAveen the Spaniard and the Moor,—a war to the knife. But the slaughter in battle was mercy to the deeds in cold blood Avhich followed. On this occasion, a number of runaways from the battle of Boss fled hi the direction of Scidlabogue, at the foot of Carrickbyrne Mountain, where the rebels had over a hundred prisoners confined in a barn. A rumor was spread that the troops were shooting all their prisoners in Boss. The crowd ivas ivild with excitement. An infu¬ riated mob of men and Avomen rushed to the barn, shouting revenge. The guards tried to drive them back. They Avere overpowered. The roof was of thatch, and easily set on fire, and the unhappy prisoners were consumed in a body in the flames. This has been represented as a mas¬ sacre of Protestants by Catholics. But this could hardly be, as there were fifteen Catholics among those who per¬ ished. Still religious hatred, doubtless, added intensity to the desire for revenge. These cruelties would have been avoided, had the insurrection been accompanied by a Trench invasion. Indifferent to all religion, the French would never have permitted persecution for religion’s sake. This was fully proved afterward in the invasion of Humbert. It is but justice to add, that the officers did all in their power to check these atrocities. The next day a proclama¬ tion Avas issued, denouncing death to “Avhoever should kill or murder any person or prisoner, or set fire to any MASSACRES. 249 house, or commit any plunder, without special vmiten orders from the commander-in-chief.” But the passions of the infuriated people could not always he restrained. In spite of orders and guards, a similar tragedy took place a few days after at Wexford. That town was thronged by people flying from the country round, who all had some tale to tell of the cruelty of the soldiery. One man had been flogged; another’s house had been burned, and his children driven to beggary; another bewailed -with piteous cries his murdered father. The multitude were goaded to indescribable fury. They raged for revenge against the loyalists who were in their power. In vain some men of humanity tried to calm them, and to persuade them to give the prisoners the chance of a trial. “ What trial,” they exclaimed, “ did we, or our friends and relations obtain, when some were hanged, or shot, and others whipped, or otherwise tortured; our houses burned, and ourselves hunted like mad dogs.”* Alas, this reasoning would have some force, if it were pos¬ sible to single out the authors of these atrocities, and punish them as they deserved. But an exasperated mul¬ titude do not stop to discriminate, and the innocent often perished with the guilty. The clamor of the weeping and raging populace swelled louder. They rushed to the jail, and brought out the prisoners to the bridge, and thirty- fivef who were pointed out as Orangemen, or as having taken part against the people, were piked to death. We can not sufficiently express our horror at these * Hay’s Wexford Insurrection, f Hay. Musgrave gives a much larger number. L* 250 THE REBELLION. massacres in cold blood. Yet they were not more atrocious than the butchery of unarmed peasants by the soldiery. The massacres of the troops were less to be excused, for they were under military discipline, and might have been restrained. Indeed, indignantly as we reprobate burning and massacre, we are hardly surprised at these explosions of popular fury. They were measures of retaliation. The king’s troops burned the villages of the peasantry. The people retaliated by firing the country-seats of noblemen and the gentry. Scarcely a man of the insurgents but had some friend murdered. They saw corpses lying by the roadside. Their cabins were blazing behind them. Ari d it is not strange that their exasperation was sometimes beyond control. The massacre of Bloody Friday, near Gorey, was directly provoked by a body of cavalry, who had just scoured the country, shooting down the peasants whom they met. In their revenge it is expressly said, that “no women or children were injured, because the rebels, who professed to act on a plan of retaliation, found, on inquiry, that no women or children of then’ party had been hurt.”* While this sanguinary struggle was going on in Wex¬ ford, where were the men of Ulster ? They had consti¬ tuted the strength of the United Irishmen. Where were they in the hour of battle? Had they been at this moment in the field, the struggle might have terminated in the independence of Ireland. But the arrest of the leaders had disconcerted all the plans of rebellion. Com- * Gordon’s History, p. 192. THE ARMIES CONVERGING. 251 munication was cut off between different parts of the country. No one was allowed to travel without a passport. At the same time government could spread its own report of the war. It was said the contest at the south was taking a religious character. Exaggerated stories were told of cruelties practiced by the rebels upon Protestants. This chilled the enthusiasm of the United Irishmen of the north, and they laid on their arms while their brethren were in the field. They struck indeed one sudden and heavy blow. An insurrectionary army appeared near Antrim. A battle was fought, and they were victorious. The town was carried. But their want of discipline soon lost what their valor had gained. The town was retaken the same day. Several bloody engagements followed in the adjoining county of Down. But the rising was not general, and was soon suppressed. Thus the great province of Ulster, though restless and agitated, was kept back from open war. The government was therefore free to concentrate its whole strength upon a single county. The result between forces so disproportioned could not be doubtful. The fleets of England floated over army after army to the shores of her sister island. The men of Wexford stood alone. Twice had they striven to burst the barriers of the foe, and carry the war into other parts of Ireland. But the two great defeats of Arklow and Boss had kept the Rebellion from spreading beyond the mountains of Wex¬ ford. And now the English began to close around the game. The royal armies drew together to surround the stronghold of the Rebellion on Vinegar Hill. This posi- 252 THE REBELLION. tion the insurgents had occupied for three weeks. Four different armies now moved toward it. The rebel lead¬ ers called in their detachments. An express was sent off with all speed to Wexford for reinforcements. The encampment at the Three Eocks was commanded at this time by Eev. Philip Eoche, a boisterous priest, a man of great stature and courage, and not destitute of military capacity. But Father Eoche had his hands full. At the same time that four divisions of the royal army were drawing around Vinegar Hill, Sir John Moore was ad¬ vancing upon Wexford. Father Eoche marched resolutely to meet him. As they passed to the battle, old men, women, and children lined the roadside, who fell upon their knees, and prayed for their success. The battle was long and bloody. The rebels showed more discipline than in any previous action of the war. Their force was numeri¬ cally superior, but from the broken nature of the ground but a part could be brought into action, so that the forces actually engaged on either side were about equal. Thus fairly matched, the battle was sustained with unflinching steadiness for four hours. The rebels at last gave way, but not until their ammunition was exhausted. They had fired their last shot, and night was closing around them, when they drew off from the field. The same afternoon the divisions designed to attack Vinegar Hill, approached the scene of conflict. General Lake, the commander-in-chief, encamped within two miles. From the plain below, it was easy to see that the Irish forces were in motion on the top of the hill. A priest of BATTLE OF VINEGAR HILL. 253 giant stature was particularly noticed, as lie was dressed with a cimeter and broad cross-belts, and was mounted on a large horse, and riding from one part of the camp to an¬ other, apparently to reconnoiter the enemy. A council of the chiefs was called, at which it was proposed to attack General Lake that night. Had this course been adopted, it would very probably have been successful. The insur¬ gents would have had great advantages in a night attack. Rushing in with their pikes upon a sleeping camp, they might have taken the foe by surprise. In the confusion, discipline could be very imperfectly maintained, and the contest would be decided by hand-to-hand fighting, in which the Irish from their greater numbers would probably have been victorious. Then by rapid marches they might have fallen on the other detachments, and destroyed them in detail. But the Irish, brave to desperation by daylight, had a strange aversion to fighting in the dark. In this democratic army nothing could be done against the will of the people, and the leaders were thus reluctantly com¬ pelled to remain in them encampment, and await the attack of their enemies. The following morning, Thursday, the 21st of June, the long scarlet lines of the British infantry were seen ad¬ vancing in battle array. The different divisions embodied over thirteen thousand effective men, with a formidable train of artillery. The battle began with a cannonade, which was so heavy that it was heard distinctly at Wex¬ ford. Under cover of their batteries the several columns moved proudly up the hill. Some hedges ran across the slope, from behind which the rebels poured in a deadly fire. 254 THE REBELLION. General Lake’s horse was shot under him, still the troops, strong in numbers and in discipline, bore np, the rebels re¬ treating slowly as they advanced. That the insurgents by this time had acquired some discipline, is evident from the fact that they stood the assault of such an army so long. General Lake, in his account of the battle, says that “the rebels maintained their ground obstinately for an hour and a half.” At length, feeling the columns pressing against them from opposite sides, and seeing that they were likely to be surrounded, they gave way. The war might have terminated here with the surrender of the whole rebel army. But the division of General Needham failed to arrive in time for the battle. Thus a wide gap was left in the line which was to surround the mountain. Through this the insurgents now rushed like a torrent. The British troops marched to the top of the hill. But the enemy had disappeared. The battle was gained, but the prey had escaped. And while the victors occupied the heights which they had just left, the war-cries of the foe were dying away far to the south, like the dis¬ tant roaring of a lion, that has cleared the hunters at a bound, and is retreating through the forest. CHAPTER XXII. Guerilla Fighting keit up in the Mountains.—Warlike Character of the Irish.—Their great want that of Able Officers.—Death of Fitzgerald.—Desolations of the War. But the battle was lost, and with that went down the cause of the Rebellion. From that day the rebels were no more able to meet the royal armies in the field. From the first rising in Wexford until the decisive battle of Vinegar Hill was less than four weeks, with such rapidity were executed the operations of this short but bloody campaign. The same day Sir John Moore marched triumphantly into Wex¬ ford. Thus the places so lately thronged with the forces of the Rebellion, now resounded with the drums of the vic¬ torious soldiers. One hope only remained—to retire into the mountains, and keep up a guerilla warfare until aid should arrive from France. One of the songs of the period ran— “Up the rocky mountain, and down the boggy glyn, We’ll keep them in agitation until the French come in.” With this purpose the rebels executed a rapid retreat into the county of Kilkenny. For weeks after the line of bat¬ tle was broken, bands of savage warriors roamed upon the 256 THE REBELLION. mountains, eluding tlie enemy by tire swiftness of their marches, and carrying terror through the land. At a late day Lord Cornwallis came to Ireland with an offer of gen¬ eral amnesty, and the main battalions of the insurrection laid down their arms.* Such were the principal events of this memorable civil war. But much of what was most heroic and wild and brave, can not be told. The combats of peasant and yeo¬ man hand to hand, the conflicts of detached bands, were too numerous and desultory to be woven into a connected tale. Yain were it to recount the strifes by rock and glen. The mountainous character of the country afforded peculiar facilities for a guerilla warfare. Often straggling parties met in narrow defiles, and instantly rushed to the shock as those who would neither give nor take quarter. Some¬ times peasants crouched in ambush beside the road along which poured a squadron of cavalry. On they came, their plumes dancing in the air, when suddenly uprose a thou¬ sand pikes. The bullets flew thick like hail. Away went the foeman and his steed. One shout, one rush, and all Avas over: “ And silence settled, deep and still, On the lone wood and mighty hill.” * For a still longer time small bands continued to ravage the country. One party lurking in the woods near Enniscorthy, called themselves Babes of the Wood. Another under Holt and Hacket concealed themselves in the AVicklow Mountains. Issuing from their fastnesses, they fell suddenly upon detached villages, firing dwellings, and cutting off Orangemen and loyalists, and retreating swiftly into their eagle’s nest. WARLIKE CHARACTER OF THE IRISH. 2o7 This Rebellion showed fully the natural warlike charac¬ ter of the Irish. It brought to view many military traits, particularly their courage and physical hardihood. In the heat of battle the Irish were brave to desperation. With discipline to regulate their valor, they would have made invincible soldiers. But left to themselves, their courage was impulsive rather than steady and obstinate. They at¬ tacked with impetuosity, but if received with a heavy fire, their ardor often turned into a panic, and ended in flight. When going into battle, they raised their hats on their pikes, and gave a shout to strike terror into their enemies. The impulsive character of the Irish was amusingly shown in a little affair after the battle of Arklow. The rebels had taken post on a hill near Gorey. Here they were quite secure, as the terror of their arms kept the royal troops within the large towns. Wearied with this inaction, most of the insurgents had dispersed, or returned to the camp on Vinegar Hill, until there remained not more than a hun¬ dred men. Thus defenseless, they were surprised one day by the approach of a troop of horse. Seized with a panic, half of the rebels ran away. But not so the rest. These stripped themselves to their shirts that they might be more active for the fight, and seizing their pikes, they ran to at¬ tack the foe with such firry that the yeomen were glad to turn their horses’ heads and gallop away.* Another remarkable feature of the Irish warfare was the rapidity of their marches. They shot across the coun¬ try with great swiftness. ISTo veterans could have borne * Gordon’s History, p. 136. 258 THE REBELLION. better the fatigues of a campaign. “ The hardiness and agility of the laboring classes/' says Gordon, “ were in the course of the rebellion very remarkable. Their swiftness of foot, and activity in passing over brooks and ditches, were such, that in crossing the fields, they could not always be overtaken by horsemen; and with so much strength of constitution were they found to be endued, that to kill them was difficult, many after a multitude of stabs, not ex¬ piring until their necks were cut across. In fact the num¬ ber of persons who in the various battles, massacres and skirmishes of this war, were shot through the body, and recovered of their wounds, has greatly surprised me.” By this celerity of movement they long baffled the royal troops, and kept up a guerilla warfare in the mountains, when they could no longer engage in pitched battles. The government will long remember the men of Wex¬ ford. Many of these, being fowlers along the sea-board, were excellent marksmen. The destruction effected in two months showed with what desperation they fought. The loss of lives was im¬ mense. In that time there fell on the side of the govern¬ ment twenty thousand, and of the people fifty thousand. But courage and despair could not avail against disci¬ plined legions. Still the effort which it cost to put down the Rebellion in a single county renders it probable that, had it been general, it could not have been suppressed. It was the opinion of the ablest general then in Ireland, Sir John Moore, that had the French landed at the crisis of the Re- DEATH OF FITZGERALD. 259 bellion, the result would probably have been the total overthrow of English power in that country. The want of the Irish was that of able leaders. They had brave officers. But they needed at the head men of military skill to conduct the general operations of the war. Many of their officers were Catholic priests, men of cour¬ age and resolution, and possessed of boundless influence over the people, but not skilled in the art of war, nor qualified to conduct a campaign. Had Fitzgerald led on the rebellion, the result might have been very different. One sight of the idol of the people riding along the lines would have brought their broken ranks into battle array. His name would have been a host. “ One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men.” He would have saved the wasted valor of the Irish; the useless sacrifice of lives. The blows dealt with such vio¬ lence would have been aimed with fatal skill. But Fitz¬ gerald’s days of battle were over. “No sound could awake him to glory again.” At the very moment that the most bloody battles of the war were fought, his spirit was passing through an¬ other strife. Since his arrest, though dying of his wound, not a friend had been allowed to see him. Ho entreaties could avail with the hearts of stone which then ruled Ireland. At last, as he approached his end, his brother 260 THE REBELLION. was permitted to enter his cell. Poor Lord Edward was wandering. But the sobs and kisses of bis brother re called him to himself. He could only speak in whispers But he fixed his dying eyes upon him with an indescrib¬ able look of affection. He said, “I knew it must come to _ this, and we must all go.” But he murmured not at his fate. And when his brother knelt down by his bed, and kissed him again and again, he returned his embrace with a tenderness and satisfaction which seemed to say that now he was ready to die. That same night he ceased to breathe. Fitzgerald was dead! The young, the brave, the high¬ born, was no more. Cold as marble was his brow. His eye no more returned the kindly glance. His hand no more felt and gave the friendly grasp. His active limbs were straightened for the grave. Of that frame, so late full of exuberant life, all that remained was dust. From one end of Ireland to the other came upon the air a wail of sorrow. When the hearse turned away from the prison, bearing the noble dead, many an eye was wet with tears. All classes joined in this feeling, from the royal family to the negro servant. “ George IY. on his first interview with the afflicted mother of his friend, is said to have wept with all the tenderness of a woman in speaking of him.” “Poor Tony never held up his head after his noble master’s death, and very soon followed him.” The ardent character of the Irish peasantry was fully shown in this Rebellion—brave in battle, fighting like a tiger at bay, savage in their revenge, yet affectionate to DESOLATIONS OP THE WAR. 261 their friends, and faithful to the last to their cause. They often judged hastily. They were suspicious, for they had suffered long. Toward Orangemen, whom they regarded as their exterminators, they were implacable. Their camp exhibited many scenes at which a merciful man must shudder. But if a stranger presented himself, who had claims to their hospitality, or who had suffered in their cause, he was welcomed with the enthusiasm with which Rob Roy was greeted by his clan.* Even women shared the universal enthusiasm. They followed their husbands and brothers in the march. And often in the heat of battle, they were seen rushing through the smoke of conflict, to carry cordials to the wounded, and to support the heads of the dying on their faithful breasts. And now the war was over. The blast of the bugle called home the pursuing legions. Peace was again in the land. Seven weeks had passed, and what a change! A hurricane had swept across the island. Now the air was still. But everywhere the eye saw marks of that desolating track. Many a village was in ashes. Fighting was ended, but weeping remained. Sobs were heard from many a lowly cot. Sons and brothers were gone. The spring saw hem “ full of lusty life,”—the midsummer saw them scattered like autumn leaves. Now their cabin was more lesolate than ever. Many a father came not back from he war. The peasant’s wife, whose true Irish heart led ler at night to the field of the unburied slain, recognized, * See Teeling’s Personal Narrative of the Rebellion, for an account of his >wn reception in the Irish camp, p. 183. 262 THE REBELLION. with his face upturned to the moon, the cold clay of hin whom she had followed through scenes of poverty anc woe. Yet the memory of the Rebellion of 1798 is still cherished with pride among the peasantry of Ireland Tales of personal heroism are transmitted from father tc son. And melancholy as were many scenes of this civil war, disastrous as was its issue, none can deny to those who took up arms, that they had many wrongs, and that they fought with a bravery worthy of men struggling for liberty. As Lord Chatham said of the civil war in the time of Charles I., “ There was mixed with the public cause in that struggle, ambition, sedition, and violence. But no man will persuade me that it was not the cause of liberty on the one side, and of tyranny on the other.” CHAPTER XXIII. New French Expedition.—Humbert sails without Orders.—Lands at Killala in the North of Ireland—Takes Possession of the Town.— Is quartered in the Bishop’s Palace.—Defeats General Lake at Cas¬ tlebar.—Surrenders to Cornwallis. Stationed on the coast of France, Tone Fad watched the progress of the Rebellion with impatience, amounting to agony. . His hopes had been raised to a high pitch by the formation of the Army of England, and the appoint¬ ment of Napoleon to the command. But his spirits sunk as he saw successive divisions of this magnificent army suddenly leave the north of France, and march toward the Mediterranean.* On the 20th of June, Bonaparte sailed from Toulon for Egypt. The Rebellion in Ireland broke out three days after. When the news reached France that the war had actually begun, Tone urged the Directory to hurry off an expedition with all speed. His heart was faint as to the prospect of success. Still he felt bound to make every exertion to help his countrymen, and especially now that they were exposed to the hazards * “ Poor Hoclie 1” writes Tone. “ It is now that we feel the loss of his friendship and influence! If he were alive, he would be in Ireland in a month, if he went only with his staff in a fishing-boat. I fear we shall not easily meet with his fellow.” 2C4 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. of war. An armament was set on foot, but Carnot, “ the organizer of victory,” was no longer in power. Tone was called up to Paris, to consult with the ministers of the army and navy on the organization of a new expedition. But with that dilatoriness which now marked the councils of the Directory, it was delayed for weeks, when every day was precious. At length, after the Rebellion had been crushed, the expedition sailed. Even now it might have effected its object, but for the indiscretion of an officer. General Humbert, who was appointed to command a division of the invading army, had risen from the ranks. He had gained some distinction in the war in La Vendee, and was one of the generals under Hoche in the Bantry Bay Expedition. He was now stationed at Rochelle with eleven hundred men, destined to form part of the new invasion. Pie waited with im¬ patience for the order to embark. But from week to week the expedition hung along. Meanwhile refugees from Ireland, who had escaped from the insurrection, arrived in great numbers in the French ports, with their blood boiling from battle. Humbert listened with eagerness to their tales. His spirit chafed with impatience at the delay. He would wait no longer. He called on the merchants and magistrates of Rochelle to advance a small sum of money, marched his men on board three frigates that were lying in the harbor, and compelled the captains to set sail. This small force reached the Irish coast in safety. On the 22d of August they arrived off the harbor of Killala, in the county of Mayo, in the north-west part of Ireland. They immediately landed, and took possession of the QUARTERS IN THE BISHOP’S PALACE. 265 town. Humbert led on shore 70 officers and 1030 men ; a force about as diminutive as that with which Cortez under¬ took the conquest of Mexico. The general, -with his staff, immediately took up his quarters in the bishop’s palace. This reverend dignitary had expected a visitation from the clergy of his diocese, when the arrival of the French furnished him with unex¬ pected guests. These were not the men whom he had bidden to the feast. Still they seemed disposed to make themselves at home, and to be agreeable. At first he was not a little alarmed at this irruption of barbarians. But Humbert begged him to be under no apprehension. He should be treated with respect and attention, and his people should be protected in their property. Nothing should be taken by the French troops but what was ibsolutely necessary for their support,—a promise which, he bishop himself says, was religiously observed. Indeed no one could desire from a hostile force a more generous treatment than that which he received. A suite >f apartments in the palace was reserved to the bishop and lis family; and no one was allowed to disturb their >rivacy. Indeed the officers seemed particularly anxious o show their politeness. In the town, so long as the Tench remained, the strictest discipline was preserved. 7o plunder was permitted, no persecution of Protestants y the Catholic peasantry. Thus relieved of his fears, the bishop had opportunity D observe closely this foreign army. For two weeks he iw them daily; and a narrative, supposed to be by him, ornishes minute and most interesting details of the officers M 266 THE IRISH CONFEDERATES. and soldiers. He says, “ Intelligence, activity, temper ance, patience, to a surprising degree, appeared to be com bined in the soldiery that came over with Humbert together with the exactest obedience to discipline. Yel if you except the grenadiers, they bad nothing to catch th eye. Their stature for the most part was low, their com plexion pale and sallow, their clothes much the worse fo the wear; to a superficial observer they would have ap peared incapable of enduring almost any hardship. Thes were the men, however, of whom it was presently obser-v ed, that they could be well content to live on bread o potatoes, to drink water, to make the stones of the stree their bed, and to sleep in their clothes, with no covering but the canopy of heaven. One half of their number hat served in Italy under Bonaparte; the rest were of th army of the Khine, where they had suffered distresses tha well accounted for their thin persons and wan look Several of them declared, with all the marks of sincerity that at the siege of Mentz, during the preceding wintei they had for a long time slept on the ground, in hole made four feet deep under the snow. And an office: pointing to his leather small-clothes, assured the bisho] that he had not taken them off for a twelvemonth.”* Of what heterogeneous materials this little invading army was composed is seen from this mention of fiv soldiers that lodged in one house. The man on whon they were quartered, thus describes his guests:—“ Whe: they entered my house, I implored them to spare the live of me and my wife. They raised us from our knees, an