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THE 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 BY THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 Si ssecula prima 
 Victoris timuere minas, nunc accipe saltern 
 Ossa tui Magni. 
 
 LucaX. 
 
 EEYISED FROM THE THIRD L^ttOTDOX EDITION. 
 
 WITH ADDITIONAL iJC(6TES. / 
 
 / 
 
 NE W-YOR 
 PUBLISHED BY P. M. HAVERTY, 
 110 FULTON STREET. 
 
 1855. 
 
 # 
 
n I < 
 
 O'NEILL LIBRARY / 
 BOSTON COU£G£ 
 
 J.!N 5 1995 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In order to guard against suspicion of having been 
 influenced in my choice of the subject of this work by 
 any view to its apt accordance with the political feel- 
 ing of the day, I think it right to state that the de- 
 sign of writing a Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald had 
 been taken up by me some months before any of those 
 events occurred which have again given to the whole 
 face of Europe so revolutionary an aspect.* I ques- 
 tion, indeed, whether this fear, lest the public should 
 mistake my object, and consider as meant for the occa- 
 sion what is intended as historical, would not have 
 prevented me, were 1 now to choose, from undertaking 
 such a work at such a juncture : — but, having underta- 
 ken and written it, I see no sufficient reason why I 
 should shrink from publishing it. 
 
 With respect to Ireland, her situation at present is, 
 in most respects, essentially different from that in which 
 the crisis commemorated in these pages found her. Of 
 the two great measures, Emancipation and Reform, 
 the refusal of which was the sole cause of the conspir- 
 acy here recorded, one has already been granted, and 
 with that free grace which adds lustre even to justice, 
 
 * This Preface was written during the excitement of the French 
 Revolution of 1830. 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 while the other is now in triumphant progress towards 
 the same noble and conciliatory result. That in the 
 condition of Ireland there still remain grievances to 
 be redressed and anomalies to be got rid of is too 
 manifest to be questioned. But, instead of having to 
 contend, as in former times, with rulers pledged against 
 her interests by a system traditionally hostile to all 
 liberal principles, my country now sees in the seats of 
 authority men wliose whole lives and opinions are a 
 sufficient security that, under their influence, better 
 counsels will prevail ; and though the traces still left 
 among us of our '• blind time of servitude " " are un- 
 fortunately too many and too deep to be all at once 
 obliterated, the honest intention, will not be wanting, 
 on the part of our present rulers, and a generous con- 
 fidence in them will go far towards giving the power-. 
 
 That I have regarded the task of writing this Me- 
 moir is one purely historical will appear, — too strong- 
 ly, I apprehend, for the tastes of some persons, — in the 
 free and abstract spirit with which I have here entered 
 into the consideration of certain rights and principles 
 which, however sacred and true in themselves, are in 
 general advanced with more reserve, when either ap- 
 plied, or capable of being applied, to any actually ex- 
 isting order of things. For the fears, however, that 
 can be awakened by the assertion, however bold, of 
 any great and incontrovertible political principle, I 
 am not inclined, I own, to feel much respect or pity ; 
 — well knowing that under such fears a consciousness 
 of injustice, either done or meditated, is always sure 
 
 ■* Fuit enim illud quaddam ccecum tern-pus servitutis. — Cicero. 
 
PREFACE . V 
 
 to be found lurking. Recollecting, too, from the his- 
 tory of both countries for the last sixty years, how 
 invariably and with what instructive juxtaposition of 
 cause and effect, every alarm of England for the integ- 
 rity of her own power has been followed by some long 
 denied boon to Ireland, I shall willingly bear what- 
 ever odium may redound temporarily upon myself, 
 should any warning or alarm which these volumes may 
 convey have even the remotest share in inducing^ the 
 people of this country to consult, while there is yet time, 
 their own peace and safety, by applying prompt and 
 healing remedies to the remaining grievances of Ireland. 
 In the portion of this work which relates to Lord 
 Edward's private life, it may be thought, perhaps, that 
 my selections from his correspondence might have been 
 more sparing. But, besides that there is, in the sim- 
 plicity and warm-heartedness of these letters, a charm 
 which cannot but be attractive to most readers, — every 
 word they contain answering so well to that descrip- 
 tion in Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 
 " There is no art in 'em, 
 They lie disorder'd in the paper just 
 As hearty nature speaks 'em " — 
 
 the striking contrast which their tone of feeling pre- 
 sents to the troubled course on which he afterward en- 
 tered, appeared to me a source of interest too touching 
 and singular to be, from any critical fastidiousness, 
 relinquished. 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, 
 
 There is, perhaps, no name in the ranks of the Irish peer- 
 age that has been so frequently and prominently connected 
 with the political destinies of Ireland as that of the illustrious 
 race to which the subject of the following Memoir belonged ; 
 nor would it be too much to say that, in the annals of the Ge- 
 raldines alone, — in the immediate consequences of the first 
 landing of Maurice Fitzgerald in 1170, — the fierce struggles, 
 through so many centuries, of the Desmonds and Kildares, by 
 turns instruments and rebels to the cause of English ascenden- 
 cy, — and, lastly, in the awful eyents connected with the death 
 of Lord Edward Fitzgerald in 1798, — a complete history of 
 the fatal poHcy of England towards Ireland, through a lapse 
 of more that six centuries, may be found epitomised and illus- 
 trated. 
 
 With the fate, indeed, of one of his gallant ancestors in the 
 reign of Henry YIII. the story of Lord Edward himself affords 
 but too many strong points of resemblance. Lord Thomas 
 Fitzgerald, the son of the ninth Earl of Kildare, a youth des- 
 cribed as being of the most amiable disposition and manners, 
 but inheriting all his father's hatred to English domination, 
 broke out at length into open rebellion, and after scattering, 
 for some time, dismay among the loyal inhabitants of the Pale, 
 was defeated, made prisoner, and, on the 2d of February, 1535, 
 
8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 beheaded at Tyburn ;* tliiis, for the second thiie,f but unfor- 
 tunately not tlie last, brmging attainder on the princely blood 
 of the Fitzgeralds, by a rash, no doubt, and miscalculating, 
 but still noble thirst after national independence. 
 
 When Ireland, after the long sleep of exhaustion and deg- 
 radation to which a code of tyranny unexampled in history 
 had doomed her, was again beginning to exhibit some stirrings 
 of national spirit, again was the noble name of Fitzgerald found 
 foremost among her defenders ; and the memorial addressed 
 by the first Duke of Leinster to George II., denouncing the 
 political primate. Stone, as a "greedy churchman, investing 
 himself with temporal power, and affecting to be a second 
 Wolsey in the state," marks another of those chapters of Irish 
 history in which all the characteristic features of her miso'ov- 
 ernment are brought together in their most compendious shape. 
 This honest remonstrance concludes with the following words: 
 — " Your majesty's interest in the hearts of your loyal subjects 
 is likely to be affected by these arbitrary measures ; as few 
 care to represent their country in parliament, where a junta of 
 two or three men disconcert every measure taken for the good 
 of the subject, or the cause of common liberty. Your memo- 
 rialist has nothing to ask of your majesty, neither place, civil 
 or military, neither employment or preferment for himself or 
 his friends ; and begs leave to add that nothing but his duty 
 to your majesty, and his natural hatred to such detestable 
 monopoly, could have induced your memorialist to this pre- 
 sumption." 
 
 Of this public-spirited nobleman, who in the year 1141 
 married Emilia Mary, daughter of Charles, Duke of Rich- 
 mond, the subject of these pages. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 
 * Ills five uncles, too, shared his fate. " Three of these gentlemen," 
 saj's Hollinshead, " were known to have crossed their nephew Tho- 
 mas, to their power, in his rebellion, and therefore were not occasion- 
 ed to misdoubt any danger. But such as in those days were enemies 
 to iheir house incensed the king sore against it, persuading him that 
 he should never conquer Ireland so long as any Geraldines breathed 
 in the countr}-." 
 
 f The first Irish parliamentary attainder to be found in the Statute 
 Book is that of Gerald Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare, in the reign of 
 Heurv VII., ''for treason in company with one G Connor, besieging 
 the Castle of Dublin." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 9 
 
 was the fifth son, beina: bora on the 15th of October, 1763. 
 In the year 1773, the Duke of Leinster died, and not long 
 after, Lord Edward's mother became the wife of Wilhara 
 Ogilvie, Esq., a gentleman of an ancient farailv in Scotland, 
 being the representative of the first holder, of that name, of 
 the baronies of Milltoun and Achoynanie. 
 
 Soon after their marriage, Mr. OorilYie and the Dutchess of 
 Leinster removed, with the greater part of her grace's family, 
 to France ; and the Duke of Richmond having lent them his 
 house at Aubigny, they resided for some time at that ancient 
 seat. The care of the little Edward's education, which had, 
 before their departure from Ireland, been intrusted chiefly to 
 a private tutor of the name of Lynch, was now taken by Mr. 
 Ogilvie into his own hands ; and, as the youth was from the 
 first intended for the military profession, to the- studies con- 
 nected with that pursuit his preceptor principally directed his 
 attention. Luckily, the tastes of the young learner coincided 
 with the destinv marked out for him ; and in all that related 
 to the science of militarv construction — the laving out of 
 camps, fortification, &c. — he ^Yas early a student and pro- 
 ficient. 
 
 The following extract from a letter addressed by him to his 
 mother during her absence at Paris, will show what pleasure 
 he took, at that boyish age, in preparing himself for the pro- 
 fession he was destined to : — 
 
 " I have been very busv : I am now erectinsr a beautiful 
 
 •'4. ^_> 
 
 fortification in the orangery, and am quite dehghted with it. 
 I wish you could see it ; for I know you would think it very 
 pretty. When it is finished, I intend to put the cannons of 
 both our ships upon it, and to fire away. What is the plea- 
 santest of all, I laid it out all myself. 
 
 " I also took a very pretty survey of the fields round the 
 Garonne, and have [though I coloured it) made a very pretty 
 plan ; and Mr. Ogilvie did not touch it hardly at all, I just 
 coloured the borders of the fields, and left the inside white, 
 which makes a very good effect. I did all the trees in Indian 
 ink. I have now tired you pretty well by my boastings ; but 
 you know I have always rather a eood opinion of whatever 
 I do." 
 
 The future politician breaks out in this letter as well as the 
 soldier. "I was dehghted," he adds, "to see by the last 
 
10 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Courier that Lord Xortli had been so attacked in the House 
 of Commons, and that the opposition carried off everything. 
 I think he cannot hold out much lonc-er." 
 
 In the year 1779, the whole family left Aubigny for Eng- 
 land, where, soon after, the young Edward made his first 
 experiment of a military life in the Sussex militia, of which his 
 uncle, the Duke of Richmond, was colonel. It was not long 
 before he became a special favorite of the duke ; and the 
 knowledge he had acquired abroad in the art of castrametation 
 had now, young as he was, an opportunity of displaying itself. 
 An encampment being about to be formed for the regiment, 
 and those intrusted with the task of pitching the tents having 
 proved themselves wholly ignorant of the matter. Lord Ed- 
 ward, with the permission of his uncle, undertook to be their 
 instructor, and performed his part in this extemporaneous 
 architecture with so much adroitness as to excite general sur- 
 prise. The following is his own account of the circumstance, 
 in a letter to the dutchess, dated from Berner camp : — " I 
 have taken the first opportunity of giving you an account of 
 your sweet dear boy ; and that my letter may go down the 
 better, I write it without lines. — It began pretty straight and 
 even, but I am afraid you will soon have a zio-zaor line. I am, 
 however, sure you will not perceive it, your eye will have got 
 so accustomed to the zigzag walks of Stoke.* Our camp is 
 very pleasant, though the ground is rough and bad^, but when 
 we have dressed it a little, it will be^ very beautiful. The 
 Duke of Richmond has been very busy, and has staid out all 
 day with us ever since we came to camp. — He altered the 
 ground, which was quite wrongly marked out, and saw him- 
 self that it was right. — Before he let the men pitch, he left 
 the pitching of his own company to me, aiid I was not one 
 inch wrong. I like what I have seen as yet of my profession 
 very much." 
 
 Pleased, however, as he was with this preliminary step to 
 soldiership, it was not likely long to satisfy the ambition of a 
 youth who, as appears from all his letters, was burning with 
 impatience to be employed on some of those fields of active 
 service which the hostile relations of England had now opened 
 
 * Tlie seat of Lord George Lennox, where the Dutchess was then 
 staying. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 11 
 
 in almost every quarter of the world. A lieutenancy was 
 accordingly procured for him in the 96th regiment of foot ; 
 and in theautumn of 1780 he joined his regiment in Ireland, 
 uncertain, as yet, and, of course, anxious as to its ultimate 
 destination. From Youghall he thus writes to his mother, 
 who was then residing in Kildare street, Dublin : — " We 
 arrived here on Saturday, after a very wet march from five ift 
 the morning till four in the afternoon. I should have written 
 to yon then had I been able ; but I had so much to do the 
 minute I had got dry things, in looking out for lodgings, in 
 seeing the men settled, and getting my baggage, that I may 
 say I have not been off foot till this moment. I am not, 
 however, the least tired, though I marched every step of 
 the way, and almost every day's journey after Carlo w was 
 twenty miles over rugged mountains. This is a very pleasant 
 quarter. 
 
 " I am lodged with Captain Giles, and like him better every 
 day. I hope I shall be in the transport with him. We have 
 not yet heard anything about the transport, nor of our desti- 
 nation. There are orders for three more regiments to prepare 
 to go with us, and one of cavalry ; which makes me think it 
 cannot be to Gibraltar, and this I am very glad of. 
 
 " There is to be a great assembly here to-night, and the 
 misses are all in a great hurry to show themselves off to the 
 officers. I have a great many civilities from the people here 
 — not from the misses, but gentlemen of the town — especially 
 from both the Uniacks ; and the youngest, whom you saw^, 
 offered me his house, and has insisted on providing me with 
 garden-stuff of all sorts from his country-house when we are to 
 sail." 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Ogilvie, a few days later (November 9), 
 he says : — " I received your kind letter yesterday ; it gave me 
 a great deal of pleasure, and particularly so, when I found 
 that your sentiments so perfectly agreed with mine. But 
 indeed whatever mine are, as well as anything I have ever 
 acquired, are mostly owing to your affection for me, both in 
 forming my principles and helping my understanding ; for 
 which the only return I can make is my love for you ; and 
 that 1 am sure you are perfectly convinced of, I shall cer- 
 tainly follow your advice, and stick as close as possible to 
 Captain Giles, for I find him grow more friendly, if possible, 
 
12 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to me every day, as well as more anxious to improve me as an 
 officer." 
 
 This letter to Mr. Ogilvie thus concludes : — " I wish we 
 may sail soon, though we hear nothing of it yet. If you do, 
 pray write me word. I have my dearest mother's picture now 
 before me : how obliged to you I am for it you cannot con- 
 ceive. How happy should I be to see her ! yet how happy 
 shall I be when we sail !" 
 
 From the following extracts of a letter written in the same 
 month, it will be perceived with what zeal he had already 
 entered into the true spirit of his profession, and, though so 
 anxious for promotion, yet preferred availing himself of the 
 first opportunity of seeing active service to any advancement 
 that might, even for a short time, withhold from him that 
 advantage : — 
 
 *o^ «^ «^ ^u ^> 
 
 ^^ *^ *^ *I* T* 
 
 " I w^ent from thence to Lord Shannon's, where I met Lady 
 Inchiquin, in the same old 7narro7i-co\oYed gown I saw her in 
 when we left Ireland ; only, indeed, I must say (to give the 
 devil his due) that it was made up into a jacket and petticoat. 
 Miss Sandford was with her ; she is a charming girl, very 
 pretty, with a great deal of wit, and very sensible and good- 
 humored ; — in short, if I had had time, I should have fallen 
 desperately in love with her ; as it is, I am a little touched. 
 Lady Inchiquin and she both go to Dublin to-morrow. I 
 don't know what sort of an account Lady Inchiquin will give 
 of me, but I am sure Miss Sandford will give a very good 
 one. 
 
 " We have heard nothing of our destination as yet : but I 
 believe we are to go with the Royals, who are in their tran- 
 sports ready to sail for Cork. I wish we were gone. I hope 
 when Lord Carlisle comes over, Mr. Ogilvie and you won't 
 forget to remind my brother about a company. I hear Lord 
 Buckingham is quite deserted.* I suppose there is no chance 
 of his being able to give me a company, though I think my 
 brother ought to have got anything almost from him. How- 
 ever, I do not wish to have one before we sail, as then I should 
 
 * The late rejection of the Declaration of Irish rights moved by 
 Mr. Grattan had rendered Lord Buckinghamshire's administration 
 verj' impopular. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 13 
 
 effect an excliaiige with some captain in America with greater 
 ease ; for if a company were to hinder ray going out, I should 
 much rather take my chance there. I dare say Lord Strat- 
 haven, by being aid-de-camp, will get a majority sooner than 
 I shall, though I may deserve it better ; and as my brother 
 had the naming of one of the aides-de-camp, and named Bury, 
 I think if that is properly used, it may be of some help 
 towards my promotion. If I had been to remain in Ireland, 
 the situation of aid-de-camp would have been a very good 
 thing for me towards promotion, but not towards learning my 
 business and being a good ofiQcer, which, you know, is my 
 great ambition." 
 
 The struggle which, in a preceding letter, he so naturally 
 expresses between his regrets at leaving those he loved, and 
 his impatience for departure, is thus further dwelt upon : 
 
 Yoiighall, December 2d, 1780. 
 
 "dear, dear mother. 
 
 " I cannot express how much your letter affected me. The 
 only thing that could put me in spirits was a report that the 
 transports were come into Cove. How odd are these feelings, 
 and how strange must such sentiments appear to you, dear 
 mother, who are the only person I have mentioned them to ! 
 I believe Mr. Ogilvie understands them ; he is the only person 
 besides yourself I could mention them to ; so pray show this 
 letter to nobody but him. How happy am I to have two 
 people to whom I can thus express every sentiment of my 
 heart ! 
 
 " Do not think now, dear mother, that I am in low spirits ; 
 I am still leplits gai and happiest in the regiment, I am very 
 busy, and have a great deal to do with my company, which, 
 as the captain does not mind it much, is not a very good one, 
 and I have taken it into mv head that I can make it better. 
 You will think me very conceited, but I depend greatly upon 
 Captain Giles's instructions. I follow him very much, and he 
 has been of the greatest service to me. I think by the time I 
 have served a campaign or two with him, I shall be a pretty 
 good officer. I like my duty every day better and better : and 
 you know that is one great step towards knowing it well. 
 
 " Believe me, dearest mother, &c. &c." 
 
14 "^ MEMOIRS OF 
 
 III the Army List for 1782 Lord EchvarcVs exchange from 
 his first regiment into the 19th is set down as having taken 
 pkice September 20th, 1780. But the following extract from 
 a letter to the dutchess, dated ^January 2 2d, 1781, will show 
 that at the time when it was written this exchange had not 
 yet been effected : — 
 
 *^i* ^1^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 ^fi ^i *^ ^^ rj^ 
 
 " As to that part where he desires me to ask leave for an 
 exchange into the 19th, as I told Mr. Ogilvie before, it is 
 impossible for me to get such an exchange except with the 
 captain-lieutenants ; and even of that now I have no hopes, 
 for most likely the additional company will not go in the 
 regiment. Now, suppose, instead of asking leave to get an 
 exchange into the 19th, I were only to ask to be permitted to 
 go out with that regiment to wherever they are destined, and 
 there to be appointed to serve in some capacity or other ; as 
 I own his majesty's late promise has only given me a still 
 greater desire to serve abroad ; and even promotion would be 
 unacceptable if it kept me at home, and deprived me of that 
 pleasure. I do not think it unhkely but that the Foudroyant 
 may convoy us, as we shall have, I believe, the grand fleet till 
 we get out of the Channel. Some people now say that we are 
 going to the East Indies. I wish it may be ; if we do, we 
 shall come back as rich as nabobs, and I suppose I shall have 
 some commissions for the Black Rock. So believe me 
 
 " Yours, 
 "Edward Fitzgerald." 
 
 In a short time after the above was written his exchange 
 into the 19th must have been effected, as we find him writing 
 thus to his mother, on the 14th of February, 1781 : — 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 " I have heard nothing more about ray company, and must 
 say, that if I do get it, it will not give me pleasure, as leaving 
 the 19th when going abroad, to lead the idle life of a recruit- 
 ing officer, does not at all agree with the intentions I had 
 when I took leave of you ; and the pleasure of seeing you, 
 dear mother, which you may be sure is the greatest happiness 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 15 
 
 to me in the world, will still not be the same as it would have 
 been after two or three campaigns in America." 
 
 It was not till the latter end of March, as appears by a 
 letter dated from on board the London transport, that he set 
 sail for his place of destination. He had been staying, for 
 some days previous to embarking, at Lord Shannon's seat at 
 Castle Martyr, and was, as the letter announces, to sail from 
 thence in the course of three hours, for the purpose of joining 
 the other transports waiting at Cork. 
 
 At the beginning of June, Lord Edward's regiment, and 
 the two others that sailed with it from Cork, lauded at 
 Charleston. Their arrival at this crisis was an event most 
 seasonable for the relief of the English forces actinor in that 
 quarter, who were, by the late turn of the campaign, placed 
 in a situation of great difficulty. The corps under Lord Raw- 
 don's command at Charleston having been found hardly suffi- 
 cient for the defence of that capital, he was unable, with any 
 degree of safety, to detach from his already inadequate force 
 such aid as, in more than one point, the perilous state of the 
 province required. Post after post had fallen into the hands 
 of the Americans, and the important fort called "Xinety- 
 Six," which had been for some time invested by General 
 Greene, w^as now also on the point of being lost for want of 
 those succours which the straitened means of Lord Rawdon 
 prevented him from affording. 
 
 Li this juncture the three regiments from Ireland arrived, 
 and gave an entirely new aspect to the face of affairs. Though 
 destined originally to join Lord Cornwallis, they were, \vith a 
 prompt sense of the exigencies of the moment, placed, by the 
 oflBcer who had the command of them, at the disposal of Lord 
 Rawdon, and thus enabled his lordship, not only to relieve 
 the garrison of " Xinety-Six," but also to follow up this im- 
 pression with a degree of energy and confidence, of which even 
 his enterprising gallantry would have been with(3ut such aid 
 incapable. It was, indeed, supposed that the American 
 general was not a little influenced in his movements by the 
 intelligence which he had received, that the newly arrived 
 troops were '' particularly full of ardour for an opportunity of 
 signalizing themselves." 
 
 That Lord Edward was among these impatient candidates 
 
16 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 for distinction can little be doubted ; and it was but a short 
 time after their joining he had the good fortune to achieve a 
 service which was not only brilliant but useful, and brought 
 him both honour and reward. The 19th regiment, being 
 posted in the neighbourhood of a place called Monk's Corner, 
 found itself menaced, one morning at daybreak, with an attack 
 from Colonel Lee, one of the ablest and most enterprising of 
 the American partisans. This officer having made some de- 
 monstrations, at the head of his cavalry, in front of the 19th, 
 the colonel of that regiment (ignorant, as it appears, of the 
 nature of American warfare) ordered a retreat ; — a movement 
 wholly unnecessary, and rendered still more discreditable by 
 the unmilitary manner in which it was effected : all the bag- 
 gage, sick, medicines, and paymasters' chests being left in the 
 rear of the column of march, where they were liable to be 
 captured by any half-dozen stragglers. Fortunately, Lord 
 Edward was upon the rear-guard, covering the retreat of the 
 regiment, and by the firm and determined countenance of his 
 little party, and their animated fire, kept the American corps 
 in check till he was able to break up a small wooden bridge 
 over a creek which separated him from his pursuers, and 
 which could not be crossed by the enemy without making a 
 long detour. Having secured safety so far. Lord Edward 
 reported the state of affairs to the colonel ; and, the disrepu- 
 table panic being thus put an end to, the regiment resumed 
 its original position. 
 
 Major Doyle, now General Sir John Doyle, — an officer 
 whom but to name is to call up in the minds of all who have 
 the happiness of knowing him whatever is most estimable and 
 amiable, both in the soldier and the man, — was at this time ' 
 at the head of Lord Rawdon's staff : and to him, actino- as 
 adjutant-general, the official report of the whole affair was 
 made. Without delay he submitted it to his noble chief, who 
 was so pleased with this readiness of resource in so young an 
 officer, that he desired Major Doyle to write instantly to Lord 
 Edward in his name, and offer him the situation of aid-de-camp 
 on his staff. 
 
 This appointment was, in every respect, fortunate for the 
 young soldier, as, besides bringing him into near relation with 
 a nobleman so amiable, it placed him where he was enabled 
 to gratify his military tastes, by seeing war carried on upon a 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. iT 
 
 larger and more scientific scale, and, it may be added, under 
 one of the very best masters. He accordingly repaired to 
 head-quarters, and from thence accompanied Lord Rawdon 
 in his rapid and successful movement for the relief of Kinety- 
 Six. 
 
 It was in the course of this expedition that Lord Edward 
 exhibited, — or rather was detected in, — a trait of personal 
 courage, of that purely adventurous kind which is seldom 
 found but in romance, and of which the following particulars 
 have been related to me by the distinguished person then 
 acting as adjutant-general. 
 
 " Among the varied duties which devolved upon me, as 
 chief of the staff, a most material one was obtaining intelli- 
 gence. This was effected partly by the employment of intelli- 
 gent spies in various directions, and partly by frequent recon- 
 noissances ; which last were not devoid of danger, from the 
 superior knowledge of the country possessed by the enemy. 
 Upon these occasions I constantly found Lord Edward by my 
 side, with the permission of our noble chief, who wished our 
 young friend to see every thing connected with real service. 
 In fact, the danger enhanced the value of the enterprise in the 
 eyes of this brave young creature. In approaching the jDOsi- 
 tion of Ninety-Six, the enemy's light troops in advance became 
 more numerous, and rendered more freciuent patrols neces'sary 
 upon our part. 
 
 " I was setting out upon a patrol, and sent to apprize Lord 
 Edward ; but he was nowhere to be found, and I proceeded 
 without him, when, at the end of two miles, upon emerging 
 from the forest, I found him engaged with two of the enemy's 
 irregular horse : he had wounded one of his opponents, when 
 his sword broke in the middle, and he must have soon fallen 
 in the unequal contest, had not his enemies fled on perceiving 
 the head of my column. I rated him most soundly, as you 
 may imagine, for the undisciplined act of leaving the camp, at 
 so critical a time, without the general's permission. He was 
 - — or pretended to be — very penitent, and compounded for my 
 reporting him at the head-quarters, provided I would let him 
 accompany me, in the hope of some other enterprise. It was 
 impossible to refuse the fellow, whose frank, manly, and 
 ingenuous manner would have won over even a greater tyrant 
 than myself. In the course of the day we took some prisoners, 
 
18 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 which I made him convey to head-quarters, with a Bdhrophon 
 message, which he fairly delivered. Lord Moira gravely 
 rebuked him ; but I could never find that he lost much grouiuL 
 with his chief for his chivalrous valour P 
 
 After the relief of Ninety-Six, Lord Rawdon, whose health 
 had suffered severely from the climate, found it advisable to 
 return to England ; in consequence of which Lord Edward 
 rejoined his regiment. 
 
 The calm that succeeded Lord Rawdon's departure from 
 South Carolina, owing to the activity with which he had 
 retrieved the affairs of the royal forces, and thus established 
 an equipoise of strength between the two parties, could be 
 expected, of course, only to last till one of them had become 
 powerful enough to disturb it. Accordingly, in the autumn, 
 General Greene, having received reinforcements from another 
 quarter, proceeded, with his accustomed vigour, to resume 
 offensive operations ; and, by his attack upon Colonel Stuart 
 at Eutaw Springs, gave rise to one of the best-fought actions 
 that had occurred during the war. Though the meed of vic- 
 tory on this occasion was left doubtful between the claimants, 
 that of honour is allowed to have been fairly the due of both. 
 So close, indeed, and desperate was the encounter, that every 
 ofiicer engaged is said to have had personally, and hand to 
 hand, an opportunity of distinguishing himself ; and Lord 
 Edward, who, we may take for granted, was among the fore- 
 most in the strife, received a severe wound in the thigh, which 
 left him insensible on the field. 
 
 In this helpless situation he was found by a poor negro, 
 who carried him off on his back to his hut, and there nursed 
 him most tenderly till he was well enough of his wound to 
 bear removing to Charleston. This negro was no other than 
 the " faithful Tony," whom, in gratitude for the honest crea- 
 ture's kindness, he now took into his service, and who con- 
 tinued devotedly attached to his noble master to the end of 
 his career. 
 
 It had been intended that Major Doyle, on the departure 
 of Lord Rawdon, should resume the station he had before held 
 on the staff of Lord Cornwallis ; but in consequence of this 
 irruption of new forces into the province, he was requested by 
 General Goold, who had succeeded to the chief command, still 
 to continue to him the aid of his local knowledge and experi- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 19- 
 
 ence, so as to avert the mischiefs which a total want of confi-. 
 deuce in most of the persons newly appointed to command 
 now threatened. Major Doyle therefore again took upon 
 himself the duties of adjutant-general and public secretary, 
 and proceeded, vested with full powers, to the scene of the 
 late action, for the purpose both of ascertaining the true state 
 of affairs, and of remedying the confusion into which they had 
 been thrown. Here he found Lord Edward slowly recovering 
 from his wound, and the following is the account which he 
 gives of his young friend : — " I am not sure that he was not 
 then acting as aid-de-camp to Stuart, as the 19th, I think, 
 was not there. At all events, he had been foremost in the 
 melee, as usual, and received a very severe wound in the 
 thigh. At this same time Colonel Washington, a distinguished 
 officer of the enemy's cavalry, was severely wounded and made 
 prisoner ; and while I was making preparations to send them 
 down comfortably to Charleston, Lord Edward, forgetting his 
 own wound, offered his services to take charge of his gallant 
 enemy. I saw him every day till he recovered, about which 
 time I was sent to England with the public despatches." 
 
 To these notices of "a part of his lordship's life, hitherto so 
 little known, it would be unjust not to add the few words of 
 comment, as eloquently as they are cordially expressed, with 
 which the gallant writer closes his communication to me on 
 the subject : — • 
 
 " Of my lamented and ill-fated friend's excellent qualities I 
 should never tire in speaking. I never knew so loveable a 
 person, and every man in the army, from the general to the 
 drummer, would cheer the expression. His frank and open 
 manner, his universal benevolence, his gaiete de cccur, his va- 
 lour almost chivalrous, and, above all, his unassuming tone, 
 made him the idol of all who served with him. He had great 
 animal spirits, which bore him up against all fatigue ; but his 
 courage was entirely independent of those spirits — it was a 
 valour sui generis. 
 
 " Had fortune happily placed him in a situation, however 
 difficult, where he could legitimately have brought those varied 
 qualities into play, I am confident he would have proved a 
 proud ornament to his country." 
 
 It may not, perhaps, though anticipating a period so much 
 later, appear altogether ill-timed to mention in this place, that 
 
20 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 when Lord Edward lay suffering under the fatal wounds of 
 which he died in 1T98, a military man connected with govern- 
 ment, who had known him at this time in Charleston, happen- 
 ing to allude, during a visit to him in prison, to the circum- 
 stances under which they had first become acquainted, the 
 gallant sufferer exclaimed — " Ah ! I was wounded then in a 
 very different cause ; — that was in fighting against liberty — 
 this, in fighting for it," 
 
 It is, indeed, not a little striking that there should have 
 been engaged at this time, on opposite sides, in America, two 
 noble youths, Lafayette and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose 
 political principles afterward so entirely coincided ; and that, 
 while one of them was fated soon to become the victim of an 
 unsuccessful assertion of these principles, it has been the far 
 brighter destiny of the other to contribute, more than once, 
 splendidly to their triumph. 
 
 After the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown, — 
 with which humiliating event the war on the continent of 
 America may be said to have closed, — the scene of active 
 operations between England and her combined foes was trans- 
 ferred to the West Indies, where, at the beginning 1783, we 
 find Lord Edward on the staff of General O'Hara at St. 
 Lucia. The following are extracts of letters written by him 
 from this island : 
 
 " St. Lucia, Feb. 4, \1%Z. 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " In my last, I believe, I told you Gen. O'Hara was to 
 command at Barbadoes ; but affairs were altered, and we re- 
 turned here to take the command of this island, which I am 
 very glad of, as, if any thing is to be done, it will be here ; 
 and in the mean time we are working hard at the fortifica- 
 tions, which was very necessary ; for although we have had 
 the island four years, yet, either by the ignorance or indolence 
 of those in command, nothing has been done. I am also of 
 some use by talking French. Gen. O'Hara pleases me more 
 every day, both in his public and private character. In his 
 manner of carrying on business he puts me very much in mind 
 of dear Mr. Ogilvie, particularly in that of not trusting what 
 is to be done to others, but always seeing it done himself ; 
 and also in his eagerness in all his works. We have unluckily 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 21 
 
 three blockheads of enghieers (as they are pleased to call 
 themselves), who are not of the least assistance. 
 
 " I was over at Martinique the other day with a flag of 
 truce, with prisoners. It was a very pleasant jaunt. I staid 
 there a week, and received every civility possible from le Mar- 
 quis de Bouille and the rest of the officers, but met nobody I 
 knew before. It is a much finer island than any of ours, and 
 much better peopled. St. Pierre, the capital, is a very fine 
 town, and full of amusements. I was at a ball every night. 
 The women are pretty ; dance and dress very well ; and are, 
 the French officers say, — to use dear Robert's words, — vastly 
 good-natured. When I went over first, they expected the 
 peace every day ; but there came in a French frigate called the 
 Yenus, with accounts that the treaty was entirely broken off, 
 both with France and Spain, though settled with the Ameri- 
 cans, and that Monsieur d'Estaing was to be out immediately. 
 We are anxious to hear something about this affair, as tiie 
 peace frightens everybody. 
 
 " I hope, dearest mother, you will get, me what I have so 
 long been troubling you about, and shall still persist in, which 
 is, a company in the guards. In that case I shall be able to 
 see you, and not trouble you with sending any thing here. I 
 have now been four years in the army ; — but I need not men- 
 tion that, as it does not entitle me to any thing. I only name 
 the time, as people have had a company in less. In, short, my 
 dear mother, if you exert yourself, I am sure you can do it. 
 If there do not come troops here, I can do nothing for myself. 
 There are at present only four regiments here in the West 
 Indies ; so that I look to Europe for any promotion I may 
 have. If it were not possible to get the company in the 
 guards, I might get the rank of lieutenant-colonel by going to 
 East Indies, which, as it seems to promise to be an active 
 scene, I should like extremely. I see by the newspapers, and 
 have heard by parade letters, that Lord Cornwallis is going 
 to command there, which, as I said before in one of my let- 
 ters, would be a good opportunity 
 
 "St. Lucia, March 3, 1783. 
 
 " What would I not give to be with you, to comfort you, 
 dearest mother ! But I hope the peace will soon bring the 
 long-wished-for time. Till then my dearest mother will not 
 
22 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 expect it. My profession is that of a military man, and I 
 should reproach myself hereafter if I tliought I lost any oi> 
 portunity of improving myself in it, or did not, at all times, 
 do as much as lay in my power to merit the promotion I am 
 entitled to expect. Xot that the idea of promotion should 
 enter into competition with the happiness of my dearest mo- 
 ther, if, as I said before, I did not think my honour and cha- 
 racter concerned. I am of my brother's and Mr. Ogilvie's 
 opinion concerning a lieutenancy in the guards, and would not 
 accept of one if given me for nothing. 
 
 " I am sorry to see my hopes of a company destroyed. The 
 Duke of Richmond, in saying that he did not like to ask a 
 favour, is, I thiuk, wrong ; for, as a minister, he does not ask 
 a favour, the thing being in the gift of the ministry. It is I 
 who receive the favour from his majesty or his ministry. I 
 shall, however, write, to thank him for having interested him- 
 self at all in my behalf, hoping that ce qui est differc west pas 
 perdue. I think my dearest mother might try Lord Shel- 
 bourne, who seems to have a great deal of interest at present. 
 As you, however, have no interest to give him in return, I am 
 afraid there is not much hope. If I cannot get this company, 
 what I mentioned in my letter of February is, I think, very 
 practicable, and what I should like still better, as giving me a 
 better opportunity of doing something for it ; for here there 
 is nothing I can possibly expect, except being taken by Mon- 
 sieur d'Estaing, who is expected out every day. We have no 
 troops in the West Indies, either to act or expect promotion 
 with. 
 
 *' My brother wishes me to come home next spring to settle 
 about my estate. I shall tell him that any arrangement he 
 may make with your consent I shall always attend to. I own, 
 if I sell entirely, I should feel afraid of myself ; but, on the 
 contrary, if I were to have so much a-year for it, I think I 
 should get on more prudently. If it could be settled so that 
 I might have so much ready money, and so much a-year for 
 my life, I should like it better. However, you may be sure I 
 shall approve of any thing you settle. As to going home, I 
 shall certainly not go home about it. 
 
 " I like the idea of going to Aubigny much, and am not 
 like my brotlier Charles in hating every thing French : on the 
 contrary, I have made a second trip to Martinique, where I 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 23 
 
 spent a week very pleasantly. I met there with a very agree- 
 able young man, the Due de Coigni's son, colonel of the regi- 
 ment de Yiennois, who was in England some time. I am to 
 go to his chateau to spend some time with him whenever we 
 meet in France. As he intends coming to England immedi- 
 ately at the peace, I shall have an opportunity of making him 
 known to you. I do assure you that when I go to Martin- 
 ique I am received as well, if possible better than I should be 
 at the peace. Believe me, 
 
 " Dear, dear mother, &c. &c." 
 
 Xot long after the date of the above extract he returned to 
 Ireland, and, a dissolution of parliament having taken place in 
 the summer of this year, he was brought in by the Dnke of 
 Leinster for the borough of Athy. How insipid he found the 
 life he was now doomed to lead, after the stormy scenes in 
 which he had been -lately engaged, appears from various pas- 
 sages of his letters at this time 
 
 " I have made," he says, in a letter from Carton, (August 
 3), " fifty attempts to write to you, but have as often failed, 
 from want of subject. Really a man must be a clever fellow 
 who, after being a week at Carton, and seeing nobody but Mr. 
 and Mrs. B. can write a letter. If you insist on letters, I 
 must write you an account of my American campaigns over 
 again, as that is the only thing I remember. I am just now 
 interrupted by the horrid parson ; and he can find nothing to 
 do but sit by my elbow." 
 
 Again, writing to his mother, who was then in England, 
 he says : — 
 
 ''Sept. 1, 1783. 
 " I cannot give a good account of my studies, nor of Black- 
 stone ; but I hope my Black Rock scheme will help that also. 
 You cannot think, my dearest mother, how delighted I feel 
 at your proof of love for me in not going abroad ; as literally 
 your being in Ireland is the only thing that can make me 
 happy in it. If it were not for you, I really believe I should 
 go join either the Turks or Russians ; for I find, since you 
 are gone, this home life very insipid." 
 
24 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 For the two following years we are left wholly unprovided 
 with that only safe clew through the lesser details of life, 
 w^hich letters, however otherwise unimportant, furnish. This 
 chasm in his lordship's correspondence with his family is thus, 
 in a few words, interestingly accounted for : — " The interrup- 
 tion," says Mr. Ogilvie, "in the correspondence for 1784 and 
 1785 arose from my beloved Edward having spent these two 
 years with his mother and me, principally at Frescati, but 
 l^artly in Dublin and partly also in London. He was with us, 
 indeed, wherever we went, and those were the happiest years 
 of any of our lives." 
 
 Being now anxious to improve, by a regular course of 
 study, whatever practical knowledge of his profession he 
 had acquired, he resolved to enter himself at Woolwich, and 
 at the beginning of 1786 proceeded to England for that 
 purpose. 
 
 Young, ardent, and — to a degree rare in man's nature — 
 affectionate, it was not likely that his heart should remain 
 long unattached among the beauties of the gay and brilliant 
 circle he now moved in ; and, accordingly, during his late stay 
 in Dublin, he had become, as he thought, deeply enamoured 
 of the Lady Catharine Mead, second daughter of the Earl of 
 Clanwilliam, who was, in five or .six years after, married to 
 Lord Powerscourt. To this lady, under the name of " Kate," 
 he alludes in the following correspondence ; and, however 
 little that class of fastidious readers who abound in the 
 present day may be inclined to relish the homely style and 
 simple feeling of these letters, there are many, I doubt not, 
 for whom such unstudied domestic effusions — even indepen- 
 dently of the insight they afford into a mind destined to dare 
 extraordinary things — will have a more genuine charm, and 
 awaken in them a far readier sympathy, than even the most 
 ingenious letters, dictated, not by the heart, but head, and 
 meant evidently for more eyes than those to which they are 
 addressed. It is, besides, important, as involving even higher 
 considerations than that of justice to the character of the 
 individual himself, to show how gentle, generous, light-hearted, 
 and affectionate was by nature the disposition of him whom a 
 deep sense of his country's wrongs at length drove into the 
 van of desperate rebellion, and brought, in the full prime of 
 all his noble qualities, to the grave. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 25 
 
 In few of his delineations of character is Shakspeare more 
 true to nature than in the picture of a warm, susceptible 
 temperament, which he has drawn in the young and melan- 
 choly Komeo ; — melancholy, from the very vagueness of the 
 wishes that haunt him, and anticipating the passion before he 
 has yet found the true object of it. In something of the same 
 state of mind was Lord Edward at this period, under the per- 
 suasion that he had now formed a deep and unalterable 
 attachment ; and the same sad and restless feelings were, as 
 the followhig letters prove, the result :— 
 
 " 1786. 
 
 "irr DEAREST MOTHER. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your dear affectionate 
 letters ; they made me happier than you can imagine. You 
 cannot think what pleasure it gives me to hear from Ireland. 
 My not writing to you was entirely, as you say, because I de- 
 pended upon Ogilvie, who, I am sure, can give you a much 
 better account of me than I can of myself ; for I really forget 
 every thing I do. ]S'othing interests me enough to make me 
 remember it. I get up in the morning hating every thing, — 
 go out with an intention of calling on somebody, — and then 
 with the first person I meet go any where, and stay any tune, 
 without thinking the least what I am about, or enjoying the 
 least pleasure. By this means I have been constantly late 
 for dinner wherever I have dined. By-the-by, I have been 
 engaged every day to dinner somewhere or other since I came ; 
 so much so, that, till to-day, Ogilvie and I have not had one 
 quiet dinner together. We are, however, to dine to-day tete- 
 a-tete. But to return to my daily proceedings : — from dinner 
 somebody or other (quite indifferent to me who) carries me 
 to wherever I am asked, and there I stay till morning, and 
 come home to bed hating every thing as much as when I got 
 up and went out. All this is, however, what I used to call a 
 life of pleasure. I have been at balls almost every night, and, 
 as I said before, always stay till morning. 
 
 " Ogilvie has just been here, and read your letter ; he says 
 he will scold you'; he is in great good-humour, but not at all 
 soft or tender. Dear fellow ! I shall be very sorry wlien he 
 is gone. He calls here every morning, and I find it the 
 pleasantest part of the day. I make him talk of Kate, 
 
26 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 whether he will or not ; and indeed of you all. I find, now I 
 am away, I like you all better than I thought I did. I am 
 sorry to say I am quite tired of my friends in London, though 
 they have been as kind as possible, I go to Woolwich on 
 Sunday. 
 
 ■*^ ^^ <^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 'J* ^1* *?* '^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 " I have not seen the Siddons yet, nor do I think I shall, 
 as I go out of town so soon. I never think of going to any 
 thing pleasant myself ; I am led to it by somebody. I depend 
 entirely upon other people, and then insensibly 7c m^amuse; but 
 as for saying, * I will go see this,' or ' that it will be very 
 pleasant,' il ne m^ai-rive jamais. I find I am writing a very 
 foolish, tiresome letter : pray do not show it to anybody. 
 
 "Woolwich, June 16, 1786. 
 
 " I am as busy as ever : it is the only resource I have, for 
 I have no pleasure in any thing. I agree with you perfectly 
 in trying to drive away care ; I do all I can, but do not suc- 
 ceed. My natural good spirits, however, and the hopes of 
 some change, keep me up a little. If I thought there was no 
 hopes of the latter, I believe the other would soon give way ; 
 and 1 should be very unfit for this place, or indeed any other, 
 with an idea of doing any good ; for I should not then care a 
 pin about what happened me, either in fortune or person ; at 
 least so I think now, but I am determined to give myself as 
 long a trial as I can bear. This is all I can do, as long as I 
 think this way. I hope you will try and make me as happy 
 as you can by giving accounts in your letters. 
 
 " You say Henry spends all the night with * * and her 
 company. I suppose by that he goes on very well. I wish 
 him success with all my heart. The cottage party will be 
 delightful for him. Think of my not being there ! I must 
 comfort myself by hoping you all missed me, and wished for 
 me. Lady Clan will certainly have been there. Are you 
 upon your high horse with her, or are you gracious ? I need 
 not say I hope you are kind to pretty dear Kate ; I am sure 
 you are. I want you to like her almost as' much as I do ; — 
 it is a feeling I always have with people I love excessively. 
 Did you not feel to love her very much, and wish for me, 
 when you saw her look pretty at the cottage ? I think I see 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 2*1 
 
 you looking at her, and saying to yourself, ' I wish my dear 
 Eddy was here.' One does not know how much one loves 
 people till we find ourselves separated. But I am sure I must 
 grow stupid ; — I w^i'ite as if yon were confined at Woolwich 
 also, and in the same spirits as I am.'' 
 
 "July 7, 1786. 
 
 " Now Ogilvie is gone, and that I cannot depend upon any- 
 body to give you some account of me, I will do it myself. 
 By-the-by, I wish Tony could write. I have been up since 
 before six, and it is now near nine, and I have been hard at 
 work in the laboratory pulverizing saltpetre ; so you may 
 guess how dreadfully hungry I am. You cannot conceive 
 how odd the life I lead now appears to me. I must confess if 
 I had le cxur content, I should like best the idle, indolent one. 
 Getting up between 11 and 12, breakfasting in one's jacket 
 sans souci, se fichant du monde, and totally careless and 
 thoughtless of every thing but the people one loves, is a very 
 pleasant life, il faiU le dire. I would give a great deal for a 
 lounge at Frescati this morning. 
 
 " Y''ou cannot think how sorry I was to part with Ogilvie. 
 I begin to find one has very few real friends, whatever numljer 
 of agreeable acquaintance one may have. Pray do not let 
 Ogilvie spoil you ; I am Sure he will try, crying, ' Nonsense ! 
 fool ! fool ! all imagination ! — by heavens ! you will be the 
 ruin of that boy.' My dear mother, if you mind him, and do 
 not write me pleasant letters, and always say something of 
 pretty Kate, I will not answer your letters, nor indeed write 
 any to you. I believe if any thing can make me like writing 
 letters, Woolwich will, — for to be here alone is most melan- 
 choly. However, I like it better than London, and am not in 
 such bad spirits. I have not time hardly. In my evening's 
 walk, however, I am as bad as ever. I believe, in my letter 
 to Henry, I told him how I passed my day ; so shall not 
 begin again. You will see by that what my evening's 
 walk is ; but, upon my honour, I sometimes think of you 
 in it. 
 
 " I wish, my dear mother, you would insist on my coming 
 to you ; — but stop — if I go on thus thinking and writing, I 
 shall be very unfit for mortars, cannons, &c. So, love to 
 everybody — God bless you 1" 
 
28 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 * 
 
 In the summer of this year, the Duke of Richmond, being 
 called away'in his official capacity, on a tour of inspection to 
 the islands of Guernsey, Jersey, kc, took Lord Edward with 
 him ; and it will be seen by the following letter that the 
 young military student was not insensible of the value of those 
 opportunities of instruction which such a survey, under circum- 
 stances so -favourable to inquiry offered. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "St. Heller, July 31, 1786. 
 
 "We have been here five days, and are to stay two more, 
 and then go to Cherbourg. We have had as yet a very 
 pleasant time. I have been in much better spirits, every 
 thing being new, and the changes of scene having kept me 
 from thinking so much. I shall get a great deal of knowledge 
 of a part of my profession by this tour ; for the duke goes 
 about looking at all the strong posts, and I have an opportu- 
 nity of hearing him and Colonel Moncrief talk the matter all 
 over. The duke and he are at present employed in fixing 
 some works that are to be built, and choosing some positions 
 in case of an attack. The whole tour has been a kind of 
 military survey. I shall be glad to see Cherbourg, as it cer- 
 tainly will be hereafter a very famous place, by the works that 
 arc erecting there. We go from thence to Havre for Madame 
 de Chambise. 
 
 " Don't you think I may come home after this tour ? I 
 begin now, my dearest mother, to wish much to see you ; be- 
 sides, I think that, after all this, I could do a great deal of 
 good at Black Rock with Mr. Ogilvie, as my mind has really 
 taken a. turn for business. Thinking of Kate disturbs me 
 more than seeing her would do. I do really love her more, 
 if possible, than when I left you. Have you seen her lately 
 at any thing ? I always feel happy when I think you have 
 seen her ; because it must put her in mind of me. Have you 
 seen the presents yet ? Guilford waited till he got some also 
 for Lady Anne, that she might not be jealous, and that the 
 thing might be less suspicious. Kate herself thinks that it is 
 Guilford that gives them her. I made Guilford promise not 
 to say I gave them, for fear she should not take them. I 
 must come home ; really, my dearest mother, it is the only 
 chance I have against la dragonnc ; for you see by her 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 29 
 
 Speech to Ogilvie, she will do all she can to make Kate for- 
 get me. 
 
 " Do not be afraid that I shall do no good in Ireland ; you 
 know when I have a mind to study, I never do so much good 
 as when I am with Ogilvie. I could go over all my mathe- 
 matics (which is the most useful thing I could do) much 
 better there with him than here with anybody else. I know 
 Ogilvie will be against my coming ; but no matter, — you will 
 be glad to have me on any terms, and I am never so happy 
 as when with you, dearest mother : you seem to make every 
 distress lighter, and I bear every thing better, and enjoy 
 every thing more when with you. I must not grow- senti- 
 mental ; so good-by, dearest of mothers. IS^o one can love 
 you more than &c." 
 
 " Goodwood, August 8, 1786. 
 "dearest mother, 
 
 "We arrived here the day before yesterday. Our tour 
 has been shorter than at first intended. We came last from 
 the island of Sark, which we meant only to visit in our way 
 to Alderney, where we were to part with the dutchess, who 
 was to sail for England in a small vessel we had with us ; 
 while the duke and the rest of us went in a yacht to Cher- 
 bourg ; but the wind came on so strong, the duke was afraid 
 to let the dutchess go in the small vessel, and thought it better 
 to return with her ; I never was so disappointed in my life, — 
 I had set my heart on seeing Cherbourg with the duke and 
 Colonel Moncrief. The duke goes to London to-day, stays 
 there a few days, then goes to Portsmouth, from whence he 
 sails to bring Madame de Cambise. I had intended, during 
 the time he was doing all this, to go to Moncrief at Ports- 
 mouth ; but alas ! walking yesterday evening, I sprained my 
 ankle violently, and am not able to stir : I am afraid I shall 
 be laid up for a week or ten days, at least. I do think, what 
 with legs and other things, I am the most unlucky dog that 
 ever was. However, I intend to make the best of my misfor- 
 tune, and take the opportunity of beginning a course of me- 
 chanics with Mr. Baly : the duke and he both say that if I 
 apply hard, in the course of three months I should have a 
 pretty tolerable knowledge of them. Mr. Baly says, to do it 
 properly, I should go over again some of my Euclid and alge- 
 
30 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 bra, both of which, I am ashamed to say, I have pretty nearly 
 forgot. I wish I had my booths here, they would be of great 
 use to me now. 
 
 *' What do you think of this scheme, is it practicable for 
 me ? do you think I have resolution or application enough to 
 give the attention that will be necessary ? Stoke is within 
 three miles — very tempting ; this place will be by-and-by full 
 of company ; the shooting will be going on : all these things 
 may draw me off, — je siiis foihh ; the duke himself may, per- 
 haps, be going about, and will wish me to follow him : I never 
 do good in that way. Let me know what you advise. I find 
 every day that the knowledge of mathematics is absolutely 
 necessary in every thing that an officer should know ; and as 
 I have a good foundation, it is a pity I should not improve it. 
 If I have resolution to apply, this is a good and pleasant op- 
 portunity ; but I am doubtful of myself. In turning all tliis 
 over in my head, a scheme has occurred to me, which I know 
 would be the best thing in the world for me, could I but put 
 it in execution ; but then it requires a great effort. You 
 know I have from the latter end of August till January, when 
 the parliament meets, four months ; what do you think of my 
 spending that time at some university in Scotland ? it cer- 
 tainly is the best place for the branch of learning I want ; 
 there I should not be so easily drawn off ; I should have my 
 masters cheap, live cheap, and be able to give my whole mind 
 to the business. But I cannot bear the thoughts of seeing 
 none of vou for four months ; and then, Kate — I do not know 
 what to do — pray write and advise me. 
 
 " You say in your letter that Lady Clanwilliam goes to the 
 country for the autumn ; if she goes to the north, how plea- 
 sant ! I might then be with dearest Harry, and see her very 
 often. It is now three months since I have seen you, dearest 
 mother, and four more is a great while. If you go abroad, I 
 go with you, I am determined, and stay with you till the 
 parliament meets. I hope Henry will come too ; I long to 
 see him. What becomes of dear Robert ? I hate missing 
 him ; I wish he would come here. 
 
 " I hope you got my letters safe from Guernsey and Jersey ; 
 I got two of your dear letters here ; how happy they made 
 me ! — but you said very Httle of pretty Kate : I do not think 
 you like her enough, my dearest mother ; I want you to love 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 31 
 
 her as much as I do. Pray tell me really what you think of 
 her ? yet I am afraid, — but no matter, speak — if you should 
 find fault, — but it is impossil^le, you must love her. Show the 
 sensible part of this letter to Mr. Ogilvie, but none of the 
 last. He says, tout court, in his letter, ' she drank tea here,' 
 — did not you think of me ? Tdl truth, did she think of me 
 at all ? for I am sure you observed. Your words, ' if she 
 only likes you,' frighten me ; if it is only that, I dread her 
 mother's influence, — it is very strong. Suppose you were 
 here, and to say to me, ' if you ever think of that girl, I will 
 never forgive you,' what should I do ? even I, who dote on 
 Kate ; and then, if she only likes me, I am sure being there 
 would be of no use to me. God bless you, &c." 
 
 "my DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " Stoke, August 19, 1 '7 86. 
 
 * ^# ^i^ nj^ ^^ ^^0 
 
 rf^ «^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 " Now I have given you all the answer I can at present, I 
 will talk a little of myself. You will find, by my last, that I 
 intend going with you, in case you go ; for being in Ireland, 
 and not seeing Kate, I should hate. Though I have been 
 here ever since the duke went, I am as constant as ever, and 
 go on doting upon her ; this is, I think, the greatest proof I 
 have given yet. Being here has put me in much better 
 spirits, they are so delightful. I dote on G * * ; the other 
 two have been at Selsey, but come back to-day. We all go 
 tc a ball at Mr. Barnwell's. Y"ou see by the beginning of 
 this letter I am a favourite of Lady Louisa ; she has been 
 pleasanter than any thing can be ; I love her very much. 
 
 " I have not been so happy since I left Frescati as I have 
 been here. Do not be afraid that I am idle ; I get up at five 
 o'clock every morning, go to Goodwood, and stay and study 
 with Mr. Baly till two, and return here to dine. Y"ou cannot 
 think how much I like the thouglits of going abroad with 
 you, and being once more comfortably settled with you ; be- 
 sides, now I am in a good habit, I can do a great deal with 
 Mr. Ogilvie. I am sorry to find dear little Gerald is in bad 
 apirits. I shall write to him, as I think nothing does one more 
 good when in that way than getting letters from anybody one 
 hkes. Good-by, dearest mother. 
 
 " Yours, &c." 
 
32 MEMOIllS OF 
 
 " Goodwood, Sept. 2, 1786. 
 "my dearest mother, 
 
 "I received your letter from Carton yesterday. I cannot 
 write to Soj)liia to g'ivc her any advice ; it is one of tliose 
 cases where friends ouii'ht to be verv cantious what they do ; 
 the persons concerneil, 1 tiiink, are always the best jndges ; 
 it neither retjnires cleverness, or parts, or knowledge to know 
 what will make one hajipy or unhappy. I should never 
 answer it to myself hereafter, if, from taking my advice, she 
 found herself in the least degree unhap})y. Pray write me 
 word how things go on ; — I own I am afraid. At the same 
 time, dearest {Sophy has so much feeling, and so much heart, 
 that the least thing will make her, perhaps, hai)py or unhappy 
 for ever ; if she was not so very sensible, 1 should not be near 
 so afraid about her. My dearest mother, she has all your 
 tenderness and sensibility without your good understanding 
 and excellent judgment to manage it. ^'ot that I think her 
 deficient in either the one or the other, and should, indeed, be 
 sorry to see her get more of either quality, if she was to give 
 up the least of her good heart for it. lieing at a distance 
 makes me serious about it. If I were with you, I am afraid 
 I should be ^larplot, and giggle a little. 
 
 " I am glad sweetest Kate is grown fat. 1 love her more 
 than any thing yet, though I have seen a great deal of G '*' *. 
 I own fairly 1 am not in such bad spirits as I was, particularly 
 when I am with G '*' ''', whom I certainly love better than 
 any of her sisters. However, I can safely say, I have not 
 been infulelle to Kate, — whenever I thought of her, which I 
 do very often, though not so constantly as usual : this entirely 
 between von and me. The duke goes again to Tortsmouth 
 to-morrow, and I go with him : we are only to stay a day 
 there. He does not like to give up his shooting : while he is 
 out shooting, I always attend little Baly. I go on very well, 
 and the duke is, I believe, very well pleased with me. There 
 is nobody here yet but Madame de Cambise, who is a delight- 
 ful creature : I am grown very fond of her. I am becoming 
 quite impatient to see you, now that I expect you. I love 
 nothing in comparison to you, my dearest mother, after all. 
 
 " Yours, &c." 
 
 Dm'iug the absence of the duke, Lord Edward passed his 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 33 
 
 time chiefly at * *, the seat of Lord * *, which was not far 
 from Goodwood ; and the tone of the letters he wrote from 
 thence mu.st have suflieiently prepared his mother's mind 
 for the important change his aiiectious were now about to 
 undergo. 
 
 I have already remarked that, in tiie state of Lord Ed 
 ward's mind, at this period, — in the fond restlessness with 
 which, enamoured more in fancy than in heart, he dwells upon 
 the image of his absent " Kate," — there is something akin to 
 the mood in which the great painter of human passions has 
 described his youthful lover as indulging, when first brought 
 upon the scene, before the strong and aljsorbing passion tiiat 
 was to have such influence over his destiny took possession of 
 him. The poet well knew that, in natures of this kind, a first 
 love is almost always but a rehearsal for the second ; that 
 imagination must act as taster to the heart, before the true 
 "thirst from the soul" is called forth, and that, accordingly, 
 out of this sort of inconstancy to one object is oftenest seen to 
 spring the most passionate, and even constant, devotion to 
 another. An ordinary painter of character would not only 
 have shrunk from the risk of exhibiting his hero so fickle, but 
 would have gladly availed himself of the romantic interest 
 which a picture of first love and singleness of affection is 
 always sure to inspire. But, besides that, in Juliet, he had 
 an opportunity of presenting a portraiture of this kind, such 
 as no hand ever before sketched, he was well aware that in 
 man's less pliant heart, even where most susceptible, a greater 
 degree of previous softening is required, before it can thus 
 suddenly and, at the same time, deeply be penetrated ; and 
 that it was only by long dwelling, in imagination, upon a 
 former love that his hero's mmd could l)e supposed to have 
 attained such a pitch of excitement as, at first sight, to drink 
 in an intoxication of passion which has rendered the lovers 
 themselves, and the poet that has commemorated them, 
 immortal. 
 
 How entirely in nature, and in the nature too of ordinary 
 life, is this delineation of the dramatist's fancy, cannot be 
 more clearly exemplified than in the process by which Lord 
 Edward's excitable heart now found itself surprised into a 
 passion which became afterward such a source of pain and 
 disappointment to him ; which, by the cloud it threw over his 
 
34 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 naturally joyous disposition, first conduced, perhaps, to give 
 his mind a somevvliat severer turn, and to incliue it towards 
 those inquiries into the state of " tiie world and tlie w^orld's 
 law," which, at length, actiug upon his generous and couscien- 
 tious nature, enlisted him in ihe cause to which he ultimately 
 fell a sacrifice. 
 
 The rapid progress already made by the charms of Miss 
 * *, — uncousciously on her part, and almost equally so, at 
 the beginuing, on his, — in effacing the vivid impression left 
 by a former object, is described in the foregomg extracts 
 more naturally than it could be in any other words. For 
 some time he continued to struggle agamst this new fascina- 
 tion ; and, though without any of those obligations to con- 
 stancy which a return of his first love might have imposed, 
 seemed reluctant to own, even to himself, that his aifections 
 could be so easily unrooted. The charm, however, was too 
 powerful to be thus resisted ; and the still fainter aud tainter 
 mention of Lady Catharine in his letters, till at length her 
 name wholly disappears, marks as plainly the gradual disaf- 
 fection of his heart as the deserted sands tell the slow ebbing 
 of the tide. 
 
 In the autumn of this year the Dutchess of Leinster and 
 her family arrived in England, on their way to the Continent, 
 — meaning to pass the summer months at Nice, aud in the 
 south of i'rauce, — and to Lord Edward was intrusted the 
 task of securing lodgings for her grace at Chichester. The 
 hospitality, however, of the noble owners of Goodwood and 
 Stoke would not hear of her sojourning elsewhere than under 
 their roofs. In writing to announce this determination to his 
 mother, he concludes his letter thus : — 
 
 " Do not stay long at Oxford, for if you do I shall die with 
 impatience before you arrive. I can hardly write, I am so 
 happy. I do not at all envy you seeing Mrs. Siddons ; I 
 cannot envy anybody at this moment, for I certainly am the 
 happiest dog in the world. Think of seeing Henry, Sophia, 
 and you, all in one day ! I may as well stop, for I cannot 
 write." 
 
 Ou the departure of his mother and sisters for Nice, Lord 
 Edward accompanied them, aud remained there till the open- 
 ing of parliament made it necessary for him to attend his 
 public duties in Ireland. On the few important questions 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 35 
 
 that were brought, during this session, before the house, his 
 name is invariably to be found in the very small minority 
 which the stock of Irish patriotism, at this time but scanty, 
 supplied. From the opinions, too, respecting his brother 
 legislators, which he expresses in the following letter, it will 
 be seen that the standard by whidi he judged of public men 
 and their conduct was, even at this period, of no very accom- 
 modating nature ; and that the seeds of that feeling which, in 
 after-days, broke out into indignant revolt, were already fast 
 ripening. His animadversions here upon what he calls the 
 " shabby " behaviour of his uncle, Mr. Conolly, refer to the 
 line taken by that gentleman on the question of the Riot Bill 
 — a bill which Mr. Wolfe declared to be " so hostile to the 
 liberties of the people, that every man should raise his voice 
 and almost wield his sword against it." On this measure 
 Mr. Conolly took part with the Castle, and opposed an 
 amendment to the bill moved by Mr. O'Neil. Upon a pro- 
 posal, too, by Mr. Grattan for a resolution concerning tithes, 
 Mr. Conolly again appears among the supporters of govern- 
 ment ; while the name of Lord Edward is found, as usual, 
 shining by the side of those of Grattan and Curran, among 
 that small but illustrious band, — " the few fine flushes of 
 departing day," — that gave such splendour to the last mo- 
 ments of Ireland as a nation. The following is the extract of 
 Lord Edward's letter to which I refer : — • 
 
 " Dublin, February 26th, 1787. 
 " You desire me to give you an account of myself ; I do 
 not think you could ask a more difficult thing, for though I 
 have been doing nothing but the common John-trot things, 
 yet I have been thinking of a great many others, both serious 
 and trivial, and to give an account of one's thoughts requires 
 a better pen than mine. I have been greatly disappointed 
 about politics, though not dispirited. Ogilvie, I dare say, has 
 told you how ill we have gone on. Conolly, I think, behaved 
 shabbily, and as long as the Bishop Cloyne has got hold of 
 him, he will do no good. We came over so sanguine from 
 England, that one feels the disappointment the more. Wil- 
 liam is behaving as well as possible ; so that, by perseverance 
 and steadiness, I am sure we shall get right again. When 
 one has any great object to carry, one must expect disappoint- 
 
36 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ments, aud not be diverted from one's object by them, or even 
 appear to mind them. I therefore say to everybody that I 
 think we are going on well. The trnth is, the people one has 
 to do with are a bad set. I mean the ichoh ; for really I 
 believe those we act with are the best. All this is between 
 you and me : you must u(it mention any thing of it even to 
 Mr. Ogilvie, for even to him I put on a good face, and try to 
 appear not disappointed or dispirited." 
 
 In the determination here expressed, as politic as it is 
 manly, not only to persevere, in spite of disgust and difficulty, 
 towards the object he had in view, but even to assume an air 
 of confidence in his cause when most hopeless of it, we have a 
 feature of his character disclosed to us which more than any 
 other, perhaps, tended to qualify him for the enterprise to 
 which, fatally for himself, he devoted the latter years of his 
 life. In a struggle like that, of which the chances were so 
 uncertain, and where some of the instruments necessary to 
 success were so little cons-enial to his nature, it is easv to con- 
 ceive how painfully often he must have had to summon up the 
 self-command here described, to enable him to hide from those 
 embarked with him his own hopelessness and disgust. 
 
 In another part of the same letter, he thus, with a depth 
 and delicacy of filial tenderness which few hearts have ever 
 felt so strongly, addresses his beloved mother : 
 
 " You cannot think how I feel to want vou here. I dined 
 and slept at Frescati the other day, Ogilvie and I tete-a-tcte. 
 We talked a great deal of you. Though the place makes me 
 melancholy, yet it gives one pleasant feelings. To be sure, 
 the going to bed without wishing you a good-night : the 
 coming down in a morning, and not seeing you ; the saunter- 
 ing about in the fine sunshine, looking at your flowers and 
 shrubs without you to lean upon one, was all very bad indeed. 
 In settling my journey there, that evening, I determined to 
 see you in my way, supposing you were even a thousand miles 
 out of it ; — and now coolly, if I can afford it, I certainly will." 
 
 A subsequent letter (March 3d) relating chiefly to some 
 domestic misfortune which had befallen a French family of 
 his acquaintance, contains passages full of the same filial 
 fondness, which all mothers, at least, will thank me for ex- 
 tractmg : 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 3*7 
 
 " It is time for me to go to Frescati. Why are not you 
 there, dearest of mothers "/ but it feels a little like seeing you 
 too to go there. We shall talk a great deal of you. I assure 
 you I miss you in Ireland very, very much. I am not half so 
 merry as I should be if you were here. I get tired of every 
 thing, and want to have you to go and talk to. You are, 
 after all, what I love best in the world. I always return to 
 you, and find it is the only love I do not deceive myself in. I 
 love you more than I think I do, — but I will not give way to 
 such thoughts, for it always makes me grave. I really made 
 myself miserable for two days since I left you, by this sort of 
 retlectious ; and in thinking over with myself what misfortunes 
 I could bear, I found there was one I could not ; — but God 
 bless you." 
 
 It had been his intention, as soon as released from his par- 
 liamentary duties, to rejoin the dutchess at ]S'ice, and from 
 thence proceed, in the summer, to meet his friends M. and 
 Madame de Levis, and the Puysegurs, in Switzerland. 
 "This," he says, in one of his letters, "is my pleasant; /oo/i^A 
 plan ; — it would certainly be charming. My sensible plan is 
 to go and stay at Woolwich till autumn, and then meet you 
 all at Paris. If I do the latter (which I do not think I shall, 
 for it is a great deal too wise), I should come to Paris with 
 great eclat, for I should by that time be very rich, and be 
 able to live away a little, so far as keeping horses aud a 
 phaeton. The other plan would oblige me to live rather eco- 
 nomically at Paris. Pray consider my case, and take Madame 
 de Levis into the consultation, for she can, I know, give very 
 good advice." 
 
 Instead of either of the projects here contemplated, a visit 
 to Gibraltar, with the ulterior object of a journey through 
 Spain and Portugal, was the plan upon which he at length 
 decided for his summer .tour. 
 
 From Gibraltar, where he appears to have arrived about 
 the latter end of May, he thus writes to the dutchess : — 
 
 " Gibraltar. 
 
 "ilY DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "I am delighted with this place ; never was any thing 
 better worth seeing, either taking it in a military light, or 
 merely as a matter of curiosity. I cannot describe it at all 
 
38 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 as it merits. Conceive an immense liigb rugged rock, sepa- 
 rated by a small neck of land from a vast track of moun- 
 tainous or rather hilly country, whose large, broad, sloping 
 eminences, with a good deal of verdure, make a strong con- 
 trast with the sharp, steep rock of the place. Yet when you 
 come on the rock, you tind part of it capable of very high 
 cultivation ; it will in time be a little paradise. Even at 
 present, in the midst of some of the wildest, rockiest parts, 
 you find charming gardens, surrounded with high hedges of 
 geraniums, filled with orange, balm, sweet oleander, myrtle, 
 cedar, Spanish broom, roses, honeysuckles, in short, all the 
 charming plants of both our own country and others. Con- 
 ceive all this, collected in different spots of the highest barren 
 rock perhaps you ever beheld, and all in luxuriant vegetation ; 
 on one side seeing, with a fine basin between you, the green 
 hills of Andalusia, with two or three rivers emptying them- 
 selves into the bay ; on another side, the steep, rugged, and 
 high land of Barbary, and the whole strait coming under your 
 eye at once, and then a boundless view of the Mediterranean ; 
 all the sea enlivened with shipping, and the laud with the 
 sight of your own soldiers, and the sound of drums and fifes, 
 and all other military music : — to crown all, the finest climate 
 possible. Really, walking over the higher parts of the rock, 
 either in the morning or evening (in the midday all is quiet, 
 on account of the heat), gives ones feelings not to be de- 
 scribed, making one proud to think that here you are a set of 
 islanders from a remote corner of the world, surrounded by 
 enemies thousands of times your numbers, yet, after all the 
 strug^-les, both of them and the French to beat you out of it, 
 keeping it in spite of all their efibrts. All this makes you 
 appear to yourself great and proud, — and yet, again, when 
 you contemplate the still greater greatness of the scene, the 
 immense depth of the sea under you, the view of an extensive 
 tract of land, whose numerous inhabitants are scarcely known, 
 — the feeling of pride is then gone, and the littleness of your 
 own works in comparison with those of nature makes you 
 feel yourself as nothing. But I will not say any more, for 
 every thing must fall far short of what is here seen and felt. 
 
 " I really think if one had all the people one liked here, 
 one could live charmingly. The general gives all officers that 
 choose gardens, and numbers have got them. Vegetation is 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERAIJ). 39 
 
 SO quick that you can liave peas, beans, and French beans in 
 five weeks after you plant them : you have a very tolerable 
 tree in three years ; })0plars, in two, grow to a great size. 
 O'Hara and I walk the whole day, from five in the morning 
 till eight or nine at night ; he is pleasanter than ever, and 
 enters into all one's ideas, fanciful as well as comical. We 
 divert ourselves amazingly with all the people here ; but this 
 is when he is not ' all over general,' as he calls it. Elliot 
 dotes on him, and says he goes away content, as he leaves the 
 garrison in the liands of such an able ofiBcer. Elliot is, from 
 what I have seen of him, a delightful man, and an excellent 
 officer ; he talks highly of Robert, I feel grown quite a 
 soldier again since I came to this place, and should like to be 
 in a regiment here very much. I shall stay here about ten 
 days longer at most ; then go to Cadiz, by way of Tavira 
 through Portugal, to avoid a quarantine which the Spaniards 
 lay -on this place. 
 
 " I wrote you the other day a letter, which I was ashamed 
 to send ; I had got up, 'particularly fond of you, and had de- 
 termined to give up all improvement whatever, and set out to 
 you by the shortest road without stopping. I have now set- 
 tled my tour, so that I hope to be with you in July ; that I 
 may accomplish it, I shall give up my visit to Madrid and 
 Granada, and take them some other time. I really cannot 
 stay much longer without seeing you. If I feel thus here, you 
 may guess how much stronger it will be when I leave this 
 place, and am left to myself. Often when I see a ship sailing, 
 I think how glad I should be if I were aboard, and on my 
 passage to you. I have got some seed of a beautiful plant 
 that grows like ivy, with a purple flower and fine smell ; it is 
 called dolcom ; I never saw any at home : I think it will do 
 very well for your passage at Frescati. God bless you. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 "E. F. 
 
 " A dreadful scrawl, but I am in haste. I am to dine with 
 a dreadful Mrs. S., who has been up to the elbows in custards 
 to receive the general." 
 
 At Lisbon, to which city he next proceeded, — wishing to 
 have a glimpse of Portugal before he pursued his journey into 
 Spain, — he was lucky enough to make acquaintance with some 
 
40 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of the principal Portug-uese nobility ; and as his frank, popular 
 manners, even still more than his personal beauty and rank, 
 secured him a welcome reception wherever he became known, 
 he found the society of this city so agreeable as to induce him 
 to delay longer there than he intended. 
 
 From all the places which he now, in succession, visited, — 
 Cadiz, Granada, Madrid, &c. — he still wrote, as usual, punc- 
 tually to his mother ; and through all his letters, unpretending 
 as they are in a literary point of view, there still breathes, 
 with unfailing charm, the same spirit of enjoyment, the same 
 natural freshness both of mind and heart. To beauty, in all 
 its visible forms, whether in the varied scenery of nature, the 
 simple grace of children, or that most perfect of its manifesta- 
 tions, woman's loveliness, he had a heart peculiarly suscepti- 
 ble ; and among the themes he chiefly dwells on in these 
 letters, are the enchanting views of the country, the mirth and 
 prettiness of the little Andalusian children with their guitars, 
 the graceful mixture of song and dance in the seguidillas of 
 the female peasants, and, occasionally, a comparative estimate 
 of the respective claims of the women of Portugal and Spain 
 to beauty. His manner of travelling was highly characteristic 
 of his simple and independent mind. " I am," he says, 
 " charmed with the people here ; and by the way I travel I 
 see a great deal of them. I always set out about three in the 
 evening and travel till one or two ; and as I do not sleep as 
 much as my companions Tony and the muleteer, I generally 
 walk next morning about the town or villaGce I am in : and 
 the people are so fond of the English that a Cavallero Ingles 
 is asked into almost every house, and made to sit down and 
 eat or drink. By this means, there is hardly a place I go 
 through that I do not make some acquaintance whom I feel 
 quite sorry to leave." 
 
 Of the Alhambra he says — " It is, in fact, the palaces and 
 gardens of the Arabian Xights realized. The paintings that 
 still remain are much beyond any thing of the kind we do now, 
 both in the colouring and the finishing ; and I was surprised 
 to find that almost all our modern patterns are taken from 
 hence. The painting of one of the rooms is even now better 
 than that of the gallery at Castletown, or at Monsieur Reg- 
 nard's at Paris, and much in the same style." 
 
 But the grsat charm of these letters lies neither in the 
 
LORD EDTVARD FITZGERALD. 41 
 
 descriptions nor reflections, much livelier and profounder than 
 which might, in this age of showy and second-hand cleverness, 
 be parroted forth by persons with not a tithe of Lord Ed- 
 ward's intellect, — but in that ever-wakeful love of home and 
 of all connected with it, which accompanies him wherever he 
 goes ; which mixes, even to a disturbing degree, with all his 
 pursuits and pleasures, and would, it is plain, could his wishes 
 have been seconded by the fabled cap of Fortunatus, have 
 been for ever transporting him back into the family circle. In 
 some of the remembrances he sends to his sisters, th.^t playful- 
 ness of nature which, to the end of his life, and through some 
 of its most trying scenes, never deserted him, rather amusingly 
 breaks out. For instance, after observing that all the little 
 Portuguese and Spanish girls put him in mind of his sister 
 Ciss, he adds, " You are by this time settled at Barege, and 1 
 hope have had neither bickerings nor pickerings. One cer- 
 tainly avoids them by being alone, and it is that, I believe, 
 that makes it so tiresome. I really, at this moment, long to 
 have a little Cjuarrel with somebody. Give my love to all of 
 them, I am sorry poor dear Charlotte is not better, — glad 
 Lucy is quite well, and hope Sophia is not lachrymose. I 
 sincerely hope Mimi is grown obstinate, passionate, and diso- 
 bedient to all the girls, and that she don't mind a word M^. 
 Clavel says to her ; that when she is at her lesson, she only 
 keeps her eyes on the book, while, all the while, she is think- 
 ing of riding on Bourra ; and that the minute you are 
 out of the room, she begins talking to Cecilia. God bless 
 you." 
 
 From Madrid he writes thus : — 
 
 " I have been but three hours in Madrid. I wanted to set 
 off to you by post, and should have been with you, in that 
 case, in seven days. It was to cost me £40 ; but Tony re- 
 monstrated, and insisted that it was very foolish, when I might 
 go for five guineas, and, — in short, he prevailed." 
 
 The warm attachment to Miss * *, of which we have al- 
 ready traced the first dawnings, contmued unaltered through 
 all this change of scene and society ; though, from his silence 
 on the subject, in every letter he wrote home, it would appear 
 that, even to his mother, the habitual depository of all his 
 thoughts, he had not yet confided the secret of his new pas- 
 sion. On his return to England, however, but a very short 
 
42 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 time elapsed before it became manifest not only how deeply 
 and devotedly he was attached, but, unluckily, how faint v>'tre 
 the hopes of his ever succeeding in his suit. Tiie Duke of 
 Kichmond, who felt naturally a warm interst in both parties, 
 was very desirous, it seems, that the union should take place ; 
 but the father of the young lady decidedly opposed himself to 
 it ; and the more strongly to "mark his decision on the subject, 
 at length peremptorily forbade Lord Edward his house. 
 
 To be thus frustrated in any object whatever would have 
 been, to a sanguine spirit like his, sufficiently mortifying ; but 
 in a pursuit like this where he had embarked all his fondest 
 hopes, nor was without grounds for flattering himself that, but 
 for this interference, he might have been successful, the effect 
 of such a repulse in saddening and altogether unhinging his 
 mind may be, without difficulty, conceived. 
 
 Finding that his spirits, instead of rallying, were, on the 
 contrary, sinking every day, more and more, under this disai> 
 pointment, while, from the want of any active and regular em- 
 ployment, his mind was left helplessly the victim of its own 
 broodings, he resolved to try how far absence and occupation 
 might bring relief ; and as his present regiment, the 54th, was 
 now at New Brunswick, in 2\ova Scotia, he determined on 
 joining it. Fortunately, this resolution found a seconding im- 
 pulse in that love of a military life which was so leading a 
 feeling with him ; and, about the latter end of May, without 
 acquainting even his mother with his design, lest, in her fond 
 anxiety, she might interpose to prevent it, he sailed for Ame- 
 rica. 
 
 The following series of letters, written by him at this time, 
 will, I have no doubt, be read with interest. 
 
 "Halifax, June 24th, I'? 88. 
 " DEAREST, DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " I got here three days ago, after a passage of twenty-eight 
 days, one of the quickest almost ever known. We had a fair 
 wind every hour of the way. Depend on it, dearest mother, 
 I will not miss an opportunity of writing to you. Tony has 
 followed your directions very implicitly, for there has not pass- 
 ed a day yet without his telling me 1 had best write now, or 
 I should go out and forget it. 
 
 " I can give you no account of the country yet, or the peo- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 43 
 
 pie. By what I hear, they are all Irish, at least in this town ; 
 the brogue is not in higher perfection in Kilkenny. I think I 
 hear and see Thamis in every corner of the street. I am 
 lodged at a Mr. Cornelius O'Brien's, who claims relationship ; 
 and I accept the relationship, — and his horst^ for thirty miles up 
 the country. I set out to-day. My regiment is at St. John's, 
 in New Brunswick : the distance is a hundred and twenty miles 
 from here to Annapolis, and at Annapolis you embark across 
 the bay of Fundy to St. John's, which is opposite, at the mouth 
 of the river of the same name. This is the common route ; 
 but to avoid the Bay of Fundy (which is a very disagreeable 
 navigation, and where one sometimes happens to be a fort- 
 night out), I go another road, which takes me round the bay. 
 It is longer, and very bad, but by all accounts very wild and 
 beautiful. I shall cross rivers and lakes of which one has no 
 idea in England. I go down one river called Shubennacadee 
 for thirty miles, which they tell me is so full of fish that you 
 kill them with sticks. They say the banks of it are beautiful 
 — all the finest wood and pasture, but quite in the state of 
 nature. By all I hear, this will be a journey after my own 
 heart. I long to hear from you. I love G '^^ * more than 
 ever. 
 
 " I hope my journey will do me good : one thing I am glad 
 to find is, that I am likely to have separate command, which 
 will give me a good deal to do. Good bye again. God bless 
 you a thousand times. " Yours, &c." 
 
 This journey to St. John's appears to have been all that he 
 anticipated ; and the quiet and affecting picture of an evening 
 in the woods, detailed with such natural eloquence in the fol- 
 lowing letter, affords one of those instances where a writer 
 may be said to be a poet without knowing it ; — his very un- 
 consciousness of the effect he is producing being, in itself, a 
 charm which no art or premeditation could expect to reach. 
 
 " St. John's, Xew Brunswick, July 18th. 
 " SIY DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " Here I am, after a long and fatiguing journey, I had no 
 idea of what it was : it was more like a campaign than any 
 thing else, except in one material point, that of having no 
 danger. I should have enjoyed it most compleiely but for the 
 
44 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 musquitos, but they took off a groat deal of my pleasure : the 
 millions of them are dreadful. If it had not beeu for this in- 
 convenience, my journey would have been delightful. The 
 country is almost all m a state of nature, as •well as its inha- 
 bitants. There are four sorts of these : the Indians, the 
 French, the old English settlers, and now the refugees from 
 the other parts of America : the last seem the most civilized. 
 
 " The old settlers are almost as wild as Indians, but lead a 
 very comfortable life : thev are all farmers, and live entirely 
 w^ithiu themselves. They supply all their own wants by their 
 contrivances, so that thev seldom buv auv thing. Thev ouu-lit 
 to be the hap]Mest }ieople in the world, bnt they do not seem 
 to know it. They imagine themselves poor, because they have 
 no money, without considering they do not want it : every 
 thinsi- is done by barter, and von will often lind a farmer well 
 supplied with every thing, and yet not have a shilling in money. 
 Any man that will work is sure in a few years to have a com- 
 fortable farm : the tirst eighteen months is the only hard time, 
 and that in most ]ilaces is avoided, ])articularly near the rivers, 
 for in every one of them a man will catch in a day enousxh to 
 feed him for a year. In the winter, with very little trouble, 
 he supplies himself with meat by killing moose deer ; and in 
 sununer with pigeons, of which the woods are full. These he 
 must subsist on till he has cleared ground enonu'h to raise a 
 little grain, which a hard-working man will do hi the course 
 of a few months. By sellUig his moose skins, making sugar 
 out of the maple tree, and by a few days' work for other peo- 
 ple, for which he gets great wages, he soon acquires enough to 
 purchase a cow. This, then, sets him up, and he is sure, in a 
 lew years, to luive a comfortable supply of every necessary of 
 life. I came through a whole tract of country peopled by 
 Irish, who came out not worth a shilliua', and have all now 
 farms, worth (according to the value of money in this coun- 
 try) from £1000 to £3^000. 
 
 " The equality of every body and of their manner of life I 
 like very much. There are no a-entlemen ; every body is on a 
 footing, provided he works and wants nothing ; every man is 
 exactly what he can make himsaJf ; or /ins made himself by 
 industry. The more children a man has the better : his wife 
 being brouLfht to bed is as iovful news as his cow calving : 
 the father has no uneasiness about providing for them, as this 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 45 
 
 is done by the profit of their work. By the time they are fit 
 to settle, he can always afi'ord them two oxen, a cow, a gun, 
 and an axe, and in a few years, if they work, they will thrive. 
 
 " I came by a settlement alon^^ one of the rivers which was 
 all the work of one pair ; the old man was seventy-two, the 
 old lady seventy ; they had been there thirty years ; they 
 came there with one cow, three children, and one servant ; 
 there was not a living being within sixty miles of them. The 
 first year they lived mostly on milk and marsh leaves ; the 
 second year they contrived to purchase a bull, by the produce 
 of their moose skins and fish : from this time they got on very 
 well ; and there are now five sons and a daughter all settled 
 in different farms along the river for the space of twenty miles, 
 and all living comfortably and at ease. The old pair live alone 
 in the little log cabin they first settled in, two miles from any 
 of their children ; their little spot of ground is cultivated by 
 these children, and they are supplied with so much butter, 
 grain, meat, <fec. from each child, according to the share he got 
 of the land ; so that the old folks have nothing to do but to 
 mind their house, which is a kind of inn they keep, more for 
 the sake of the company of the few travellers there are than 
 for gain. 
 
 " I was obliged to stay a day with the old people on account 
 of the tides, which did not answer for going up the river till 
 next morning ; it was, I think, as odd and as pleasant a day 
 (in its way) as ever I passed. I wish I could describe it to 
 you, but I cannot, you must only help it out with your own 
 imagination. Conceive, dearest mother, arriving about twelve 
 o'clock in a hot day at a little cal>in upon the side of a rapid 
 river, the banks all covered with woods, not a house in sight 
 — and there finding a little old clean tidy woman spinning, 
 with an old man of the same appearance, weeding salad. We 
 had come for ten miles up the river without seeing any thing 
 but woods. The old pair, on our arrival, got as active as if 
 onlv five-and-twentv, the gentleman getting wood and water, 
 the lady frying bacon and eggs, both talking a good deal, tell- 
 ing their storv, as I mentioned before, how thev had been there 
 thirtv vears, and how their children were settled, and when 
 either's back was turned remarking how old the other had 
 grown ; at the same time all kindness, cheerfulness, and love 
 to each other. 
 
46 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Tlie contrast of all this wliicli had passed diirhig the dav, 
 with the quietness of the evening, when the spirits of the old 
 people had a little subsided, and began to wear oft' with the 
 day, and with the fatigue of their little work, — sitting quietly 
 at the door, on the same spot they had lived in thirty years 
 together, the contented thought fulness of their countenances, 
 which was increased by their age and the solitary life they 
 had led, the wild quietness of the place, not a Kviug crea- 
 ture or hal)itation to be seen, and me, Tony, and our guide 
 sitting with them, all on one loo:. The difference of the scene 
 I had left, — the innuense wav I had to get from this corner 
 of the world, to see any thing I loved, — the difference of the 
 life I should lead from that of this old pair, perhaps at their 
 age discontented, disappointed, and miserable, wishing for 
 power, &c. &c. — my dearest mother, if it was not for you, I 
 believe I never should go home, at least I thou2:ht so at that 
 moment. 
 
 *' However, here I am now with my regiment, up at six in 
 the morniuii* doiuii* all sorts of riirht thinjxs, and liking it very 
 much, determined to go home next spring, and Uve with you 
 a great deal. Employment keeps up my spirits, and I shall 
 have more every day. I own I ofteu think how happy I could 
 be with G * * iu some of the spots I see ; and envied every 
 vounsi- farmer I met, whom I saw sittius; down with a vouug 
 wife whom he was going to work to maintain. I believe these 
 thoughts made my journey pleasauter than it otherwise would 
 have been ; but I don't u-ive wav to them here. Dearest 
 mother, I sometimes hope it will end well, — but shall not 
 think anv more of it till I hear from Euirlaud. Tell Oixilvie 
 I am oblisred sometimes to sav to mvself, ' Tu I'as voulu, 
 Georo'e Daudiu,' when I find these thinirs disairreeable ; but, 
 on the whole, I do not repent coming ; he won't believe me, 
 I know. He would be in a tine passion when he finds I should 
 have been lieuteuant-eolonel for the regulated price, if I had 
 stayed in the 60th ; however, as fate seems to destine me for 
 a major, I am determined to remain so and not pm'chase. 
 Give my love to him : I wish I coidd give him some of the 
 wood here for Kilrush." 
 
" MT DEAR OGILVIE. 
 
 LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 4*1 
 
 " Isevr Brims\rick, August 5. 
 
 " I have hardlv time to tell vou more than that I am well, 
 and, I think, going on in a good way. I know you will be 
 glad to hear I read a great deal, get up early, and am trying 
 to make use of my time (of which I have plenty) for redec- 
 tion. I grow fonder of my profession the more I see of it, 
 and like being major much better than being lieutenant-colonel, 
 for 1 only execute the commands of others. I have a good 
 deal to do, which keeps up my spirits ; and if it was not being 
 away from dearest mother, am happier here than 1 should be 
 anv where else ; the distance from her, and indeed all of vou, 
 comes over me strongly now and then. I hope you miss ' that 
 little dog, Edward,' sometimes. Good bye ; I don't like 
 thinking of you at this distance, for it only makes me melan- 
 choly. You will be much disappointed in your hopes of my 
 staving here two vears : mv Ueutenant-colonel savs I shall 
 have his leave wheue\;er I choose, as he intends staying till the 
 regiment returns ; so that next sprmg, by which time I shall 
 have seen Xiagara and the lakes, and enjoyed a Uttle of the 
 savage life, you may expect to see me.-' 
 
 St. Ann's, Xew Brunswick, 
 "August 16th, 1788. 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " Since my last I have changed quarters, and much for the 
 better. This place is a hundred miles up the river ; the coun- 
 trv is beautiful and the weather charminor. At St. John s the 
 weather is very bad ; the fogs constant, and for more than 
 three weeks I was there, we had onlv five davs on which we 
 saw the sun rise. You mav believe I was verv jrlad to come 
 
 ft ft cr 
 
 up to this place ; besides, I have the command here, which 
 gives me more employment ; ca me pese now and then ; but, 
 on the whole, it is very good for me. 
 
 " Pray tell Ogilvie I am obliged to think, — I know he will 
 be glad to hear it, I get up at five o'clock, go out and exer- 
 cise the men from six till eisrht, come home and breakfast ; 
 from that till three, I read, write, and settle all the different 
 business of the regiment ; at four we dine ; at half after six 
 we go' out, parade and drill to sundown ; from that till nine, 
 I walk bv mvself, build castles in the air, think of vou- all. re- 
 
48 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 fleet on the pleasant time past as much as possible, and on the 
 disagreeable as little as possible ; think of all the pleasant 
 things that may yet happen, and none of the unpleasant ones ; 
 when I am tired of myself, at nine o'clock, come home to bed, 
 and then sleep till the faithful Tony comes in the morning :— 
 his black face is the only thing that I yet feel attached to. 
 
 " Dearest mother, I do sincerely long to see you ; I think 
 if I could carry you here, I should live tolerably happy. 
 There is certainly something in a military life that excites and 
 keeps up one's spirits. I feel exactly like my Uncle Toby at 
 the sound of a drum, and the more I hear it the more I like 
 it ; there is a mixture, too, of country life and military life 
 here that is very pleasant. I have got a garden for the sol- 
 diers which employs me a great deal. I flatter myself next 
 year that it will furnish the men with quantities of vegetables, 
 which will be of great service to them. Another of my 
 amusements is my canoe ; I have already had two expeditions 
 in it. I and another officer went up the river in her for thirty 
 miles ; we stayed two days, and had our provisions and blank- 
 ets with us, and slept in the woods one of the nights, cooked 
 our victuals, and did every thing ourselves. 
 
 " It is very pleasant here sometimes to go in this way ex- 
 ploring, ascending far up some river or creek, and finding 
 sometimes the finest lands and most beautiful spots in nature, 
 which are not at all known, and quite wild. As soon as our 
 review is over, I am to go on one of these parties, up a river, 
 the source and course of which is yet unknown. There is a 
 great convenience in the canoes, they are so light, two men 
 can carry them easily on their shoulders, so that you go from 
 river to river without any trouble : it is the only method of 
 travelling in this country. A canoe here is like a post- 
 chaise at home, and the rivers and lakes your post-horses. 
 You would laugh to see the faithful Tony and I carrying 
 one. 
 
 " Good bye, dearest mother, I do all I can not to think of 
 you, but in vain. Give my love to every body. I love G * * 
 more than ever, and, if she likes me, can never change. I 
 often think what pleasure it would be to come home to her, 
 and how much better every object would appear, — but I stop 
 my thoughts as much as I can. I never shall, I think, be 
 happy without her ; neither do I say that I shall be absolutely 
 
LORD EDTV'ARD FITZGERALD. 49 
 
 unhappy. I think it indeed wrong (when one has a great 
 number of real blessings) not to feel and enjoy them, because 
 there is one which we cannot have. For myself, I have so 
 many, that I feel afraid that any thing more would be beyond 
 my share, and that so great a happiness must be attended 
 with some misfortune. I am not certainly so much better 
 than others, and do not think that I deserve what I have. 
 Excuse my petite morale J' 
 
 " Frederick's Town, New Brunswick, 
 Sept. 2d, 1788. 
 " DEAREST, DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " I have just got your letter from sweet Frescati. How 
 affectionate and reasonable ! — but I was sure you would be 
 so, when you came to reflect. You cannot think how happy 
 you have made me. Being absent from you was unhappiness 
 enough, without the addition of your thinking it unnecessary, 
 and being a little angry. I own it went to my heart to feel 
 1 was the cause of so much misery to you, while at the very 
 time, too, you thought the step I took unnecessary. It cer- 
 tainly required more resolution than I believe I shall ever 
 have again. However, I trust it will all turn out well. It 
 certainly will do me good in my profession : it gives me the 
 consolation, too, of thinking I am doing my duty as a man, 
 and occupation hinders my being so thoroughly taken up with 
 one object as I should have been had I remained home. Still, 
 being absent from you, my dear mother, is very terrible at 
 times. However, I hope to make it up wdien I return ; and 
 certainly by having come away now, I can with a better grace 
 stay at home at some future time ; at a time too, perhaps, 
 when I should be a greater comfort to you. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear you are so quietly settled at 
 Frescati. You must find great pleasure in being there, after 
 your rambling ; but I trust you will not get too rooted or too 
 lazy to stir from it, for I hope to serve you as courier yet ; 
 and to keep you in order on our journeys, when you know I 
 always become such a tyrant. I am afraid I shall think too 
 often of our last year's journey. We are now approaching to 
 the time. I shall, however, amuse mvself travelling in a 
 different way. We are going, a party of us, in canoes up to 
 the Grand Falls of St. John's : thev are two hundred and 
 
60 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 fifty miles np the river, and by all accounts beautiful. The 
 contrast between the country I shall travel throui^h this year 
 and that I went through last will be very great : the one all 
 wild, the other all high cultivation. Instead of Blois, Tours, 
 (fee, a few Indian bark huts. I am not quite certain which I 
 prefer. There is something in a wild country very enticing ; 
 taking its inhabitants, too, and their manners into the bar- 
 gain. 
 
 '' I know Ogilvie says I ought to have been a savage ; and 
 if it were not that the people I love and wish to live with are 
 civilized people, and like houses, &c., &c., I really would join 
 the savages ; and, leaving all our fictitious, ridiculous wants, 
 be what nature intended we should be. Savages have all the 
 real happiness of life, without any of those inconveniences, or 
 ridiculous obstacles to it, which custom has introduced among 
 us. They enjoy the love and company of their wives, rela- 
 tions, and friends, without any interference of interests or am- 
 bition to separate them. To bring things home to oneself, if 
 ue had been Indians, instead of its being my duty to be sepa- 
 rated from all of you, it would, on the contrary, be my duty 
 to be with you, to make you comfortable, and to hunt and 
 fish for you : instead of Lord "^ *'s being violent against letting 
 me marry G * '^, he would be glad to give her to me, that I 
 might maintain and feed her. There would be then no cases 
 of looking forward to the fortune for children, — of thinking 
 how you are to live ; no separations in families, one in Ireland, 
 one in England : no devilish politics, no fashions, customs, 
 duties, or appearances to the world, to interfere with one's 
 happiness. Instead of being served and supported by ser- 
 vants, every thing here is done by one's relations — by the 
 people one loves ; and the mutual obligations you must be 
 under increase your love for each other. To be sure, the poor 
 ladies are obliged to cut a little wood and bring a little water. 
 Now the dear Ciss and Mimi, instead of being with Mrs. 
 Lynch, would be carrying wood and fetching water, while 
 ladies Lucy and Sophir? were cooking or drying fish. As for 
 you, dear mother, you would be smoking your pipe. Ogilvie 
 and us boys, after having brought in our game, would be lying 
 about the fire, while our squaws were helping the ladies to 
 cook, or taking care of our papouses : all this in a fine wood, 
 beside some beautiful lake, wiiich when you were tired of, you 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 51 
 
 would in ten minutes, without any baggage, get into your 
 canoes and off with you elsewhere. 
 
 " I wish Ogilvie may get rid of Frescati as easily ; I really 
 think, as things go, it would be a good thing ; it certainly is 
 at present a great deal of money lying dead. Besides, then, 
 perhaps, you may settle in England, and if things turn out, as 
 I still have hopes they will, and that I do succeed and marry 
 dearest G "^ *, it will be much pleasanter for me. I cannot 
 help having hopes that Lord George will at last consent, and 
 as long as there is the smallest hope of being happy with 
 G * *, it is not possible to be happy with any one else. I 
 never can, I think, love any body as I do her, for with her I 
 can find no fault : 1 mav admire and love other women, but 
 none can come in competition with her. Dearest mother, 
 after yourself, I think she is the most perfect creature on 
 earth. 
 
 " I hope by this time you have got dear Harry and Plenipo. 
 Bob, thev must be a a-reat comfort to vou. I am "lad to hear 
 the dear rascal G. loves me, and inquires for me ; 1 will write 
 to him soon. 'Good bye, I have nothing more to say, except 
 that the faithful Tony inquires after you all, and seems as glad 
 when I get a letter as if it was to him ; — he always puts me 
 in mind to write. I have found he has one fault, he is ava- 
 ricious ; be begins already to count the money both he and I 
 are to save. A thousand blessings attend you. 
 
 "E. F. 
 
 " Upon reading over your letter, I cannot finish this with- 
 out saying something to Ogilvie. Don't let hiuj be afraid of 
 my marrying a Yahoo. As to paying my debts, it is a ras- 
 cally custom I am afraid I must comply with. I wish him joy 
 of there being no one in Dublin. Tell him he will hardly 
 know me again, I am grown so steady. I think I hear hiin 
 tell you how much I am improved. As for the lieut-colonelcy, 
 we will see about that." 
 
 It has been often asserted that Lord Edward's adoption of 
 republican principles is to be traced back to the period when 
 he first served in America ; and that it was while fighting 
 against the assertors of liberty in that country he imbibed so 
 strong a feeling of sympathy with their cause. This supjiosi- 
 tion, however, will be found to have but few grounds, even of 
 
52 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 probability, to support it. At that boyish period of his life, 
 between seventeen and twenty, he was little likely to devote 
 any very serious consideration to the political merits of the 
 question in wliich he " fleshed his maiden sword." But, even 
 granting him to have been disposed, under such circumstances, 
 to cousider which party was right in the struggle, the result 
 most probably would have been, — allowing fully for the hered- 
 itary bias of his opinions, — to enlist, for the time, at least, not 
 only his feelings, but his reason, on the side in which his own 
 prospects and fame were immediately interested. 
 
 The situation of the soldier bears, in such cases, a resem- 
 blance to that of the lawyer, whose public duty too often 
 compels him to be the defender of a cause, to which, out of 
 the professional pale, his judgment and wishes are most 
 adverse ; and the sole relief to very conscientious persons, 
 thus situated, lies in that habit which they at last acquire (as 
 is said to have been the case with a late eminent English 
 lawyer) of so far shaping their judgment to their conscience 
 as, at length, to succeed in persuading tliemselves that the 
 side of the question they have professionally adopted is also 
 that of sound reason and right. 
 
 Of this sort of self-reconciling process, which the natural 
 efibrt of the mind to recover its own esteem renders easy, 
 Lord Edward would, no doubt, like others, have felt the tran- 
 quillizing influence, had any misgivings, as to the moral 
 character of the cause, in which he now engaged with such 
 ardour, occurred to him. But the fact is, no "misgivings of 
 this nature suggested themselves ; nor was he, at that time of 
 his life, troubled with any of the inconvenient spirit of inquiry 
 that would have led to them. His new career, as a soldier, 
 alone occupied all his thoughts ; — wherever fighting and pro- 
 motion were to be found was to him the mostwelcome field ; 
 and the apprehensions which, it may be remembered, he 
 expresses, in his letters from St. Lucia, at the near approach 
 of peace, show how personal and professional, to the last, his 
 views of this iniquitous war continued. 
 
 But though it is a mistake to refer so far back the origin 
 of his repubhcan notions, yet that to America, on this, his 
 second visit to her shores, and through a very different chan- 
 nel both of reasoning and of feelingr he may have probably 
 owed the first instilment of those principles into his mind, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 63 
 
 every reader, I think, of the foregoing letter will be inclined to 
 allow. It is true, the natural simplicity and independence of 
 his character, which led him habituallv, and without effort, to 
 foriret the noble in the man, was in itself sufficient to incline 
 him towards those equalizing doctrines which teach that 
 
 " Where there is no difference in men's worths, 
 Titles are jests." 
 
 In the small sphere, too, of party politics to which his 
 speculations had been hitherto bounded, the line taken by him 
 had been, as we have seen, in conformity with the popular 
 principles of his family, and on the few occasions tliat had 
 called for their assertion, had been honourably and consistently 
 followed. But farther or deeper than this he had not taxed 
 his boyish thoughts to go ; and what with his military pur- 
 suits, while abroad, and the course of gayety and domestic 
 enjoyments that awaited him at home, he could have but little 
 leisure to turn his mind to any other forms or relations of 
 society than those in which he was always, so agreeably to 
 himself and others, enga2:ed. 
 
 At the time, however, which we are now employed in con- 
 sidering, a great change had taken place in the complexion of 
 his life. Disappointment in — what, to youth, is every thing — 
 the first strong affection of the heart, had given a check to 
 that flow of spirits which had before borne him so buoyantly 
 along ; while his abstraction from society left him more leisure 
 to look inquiringly into his own mind, and there gather tliose 
 thoughts that are ever the fruit of long solitude and sadness. 
 The repulse which his suit had met with from the father of his 
 fair relative had, for its chief grounds, he knew, the inade- 
 quacy of his own means and prospects to the support of a 
 wife and family in that style of elegant competence to which 
 the station of the young lady herself had hitherto accustomed 
 her ; and the view, therefore, he had been disposed naturally 
 to take of the pomps and luxuries of high life, as standing in 
 the way of all simple and real happiness, was thus but too 
 painfully borne out by his own bitter experience of their 
 influence. 
 
 In this temper of mind it was that he now came to the con- 
 templation of a state of society (as far as it can deserve to be 
 
64 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 SO called) entirely new to him ; where nature had retained in 
 her own hands not only the soil, but the inhabitants, and 
 civilization had not yet exacted those sacrifices of natural 
 equality and freedom by which her blessings are, — in not a 
 few respects, perhaps dearly, — purchased. Instead of those 
 gradations of rank, those artificial privileges, which, as one of 
 the means of subduing the strong to the weak, have been 
 established, in some shape or other, in all civilized communi- 
 ties, he observed here no other distinction between man and 
 man than such as nature herself, by the different apportion- 
 ment of her own gifts had marked out, — by a disparity either 
 in mental capacity, or in those powers of agility and strength, 
 which, where every man must depend mainly on himself, and 
 so little is left conventional or uncontested, are the endow- 
 ments most necessary. To these physical requisites, too, 
 Lord Edward, as well from his own personal activity, as from 
 the military notions he in general mixed up with his views of 
 human affairs, was inclined to attach high value. 
 
 In like nuinner, from the total absence, in this state of ex- 
 istence, of those factitious and imaginary wants which the 
 progress of a people to refinement, at every step, engenders, 
 he saw that not only was content more easy of attainment, 
 bat that even happiness itself, from the fewness of the ingre- 
 dients necessary to it, was a far less rare compound. The 
 natural alfections, under the guidance less of reason than of 
 instinct, were, from that very cause, perhaps, the more strong 
 and steady in their impulses : mutual dependence kept the 
 members of a family united ; nor were there any of those calls 
 and attractions out of the circle of home, which in civilized 
 life so early strip it of its young props and ornaments, leaving 
 the paternal hearth desolate. 
 
 AVith a yet deeper interest was it, as bearing upon his own 
 peculiar fate, that he had observed, among this simple, and, 
 as he thought, happy people, that by no false ambition or 
 conventional wants were the warm, natural dictates of affec- 
 tion frustrated, nor the hopes and happiness of the young 
 made a sacrifice to the calculations of the old. 
 
 The conclusion drawn by Lord Edward, in favour of savage 
 life, from the premises thus, half truly, half fancifully assumed 
 by him, — nmch of the colourhig which he gave to the picture 
 being itself borrowed from civilization, — had been already, it 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 55 
 
 is well known, arrived at, through all the mazes of ingenious 
 reasoning, by Rousseau ; and it is not a little curious to 
 observe how the very same paradox which the philosopher 
 adopted in the mere spirit of defiance and vanity, a heart 
 overflowing with affection and disappointment conducted the 
 young lover. 
 
 Nor is Rousseau the only authority by which Lord Edward 
 is kept in countenance in this opinion."^ From a far graver 
 and more authentic source we find the same startling notion 
 promulgated. The philosopher and statesman, Jefferson, 
 who, from being brought up in the neighbourhood of Indian 
 communities, had the best means of forming an acquaintance 
 with the interior of savage life, declares himself convinced 
 "that such societies (as the Indians) which live without 
 government, enjoy, in their general mass, an infinitely greater 
 degree of happiness than those who live under the European 
 governments ;" and, in another place, after discussing the 
 merits of various forms of polity, he does not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce that it is a problem not clear in his mind that the 
 condition of the Indians, without any government, is not yet 
 the best of all. 
 
 Thus, where the American president ended his course of 
 political speculation, Lord Edward began, — adopting his 
 opinions, not like Jefferson, after long and fastidious inquiry, 
 but through the medium of a susceptible and wounded liearc, 
 nor having a thought of applying the principles of equality 
 implied in them to any other relations or institutions of soci- 
 ety than those in which his feelings were, at the moment, in- 
 terested. This romance, indeed, of savage happiness was, in 
 him, but one of the various forms which the passion now pre- 
 dominant over all his thoughts assumed. But the principle, 
 thus admitted, retained its footing in his mind after the reve- 
 ries through which it had first found its way thither had van- 
 ished ; and though it was some time before politics, — beyond 
 the range, at least, of mere party tactics, — began to claim his 
 attention, all he had meditated and felt among the solitudes 
 of Nova Scotia could not fail to render his mind a more ready 
 recipient for such doctrines as he found prevalent on his return 
 
 * See also Voltaire's comparison between the boors (whom he ac- 
 counts the real savages) of civilized Europe and the miscalled savagea 
 of the woods of America. — JEssai sur les Moeurs. 
 
5& ME-MOIRS OF 
 
 to Europe ; — doctrines which, in their pure and genuine form, 
 contained all the spirit, without the extravagance, of his own 
 soUtarj dreams, and, while they would leave Man in full pos- 
 session of those blessings of civilization he had acquired, but 
 sought to restore to him some of those natural rights of equal- 
 ity and freedom which he had lost. 
 
 " October 6th, 1788. 
 "my dearest mother, 
 
 " I sit down to write, and hardly know what to say : the 
 sameness of life I lead must make my letters very stupid ; 
 though, if it was any where near you, it would be a very 
 pleasant one. I begin to long very much to see you. The 
 truth is, that I do not know when I am with you, dearest 
 mother, how necessary you are to me. However, I contrive 
 to be with you a great deal. I take fine long w^alks, and think 
 of last year : I think of all our conversations, — our jokes, — 
 my passions when you were troublesome and fidgety : I think 
 of Sophy's * you may pretend to look melancholy,' — and 
 Lucy's hot cheek, stuffed up in the coach, dying to get out : 
 I think of our pleasant breakfast on the road to Orleans. In 
 short, dearest, 1 have you with me always ; — I talk to you ; 
 — I look at your meek face, when you submitted to all my lit- 
 tle tyranny. The feel of the air even very often reminds me 
 of you. We had just such a day a few days ago as that 
 when we came to Aubigny, and stopped at the pleasant vil- 
 lao-e. Dearest mother, when shall we have such another walk ? 
 — but I won't think of it any more. 
 
 " I am glad to tell you that I have been five months away. 
 By the time you get this I shall have only three months to 
 stay : — I wish I could go to sleep. I hope Ogilvie will have 
 good shooting. If your autumn is as fine as ours he must 
 have enjoyed it, and I hope he went to shoot at Kilrush. If 
 he did, I am sure he thought of me, and wished me there, 
 with all my bills and follies on my head. Our diversion of 
 canoeing will be soon over. We are preparing fast for win- 
 ter : — don't be afraid, I have got plenty of flannel, and have 
 cut up one of my blankets to make a coat. By all accounts, 
 it will be very pleasant. I have got my snow shoes ready ; 
 with them one walks and travels easier in winter than sum- 
 mer ; it will be quite a new scene. My talk is almost out. 
 
LORD EDWAKD FITZGERALD. 57 
 
 " You need not be afraid of my constancy : I sincerely 
 wish I could be otherwise, for it makes me very miserable. 
 My only comfort is, that I think I am taking the way to suc- 
 ceed, besides doing what is right for a man of spirit to do. * 
 
 The uncertainty, however, is dreadful, and requires all the 
 resolution one is master of to make one stay. I am at times 
 on the point of packing off, and think that seeing her — look- 
 ing at her dear face, would be enough. But then it would be 
 productive of no good : I should be wretched, — disagreeable 
 to all my friends and not have even the consolation I have 
 here, of thinking that I am doing my duty as a man and an 
 oflBcer. Good bye again. The faithful Tony talks of you a 
 great deal : he and I have long conversations about you all 
 every morning." 
 
 The strong sense which he entertained of his duties as an 
 officer, — to which all, of all ranks, that ever served with him 
 bear witness, — will be found expressed by himself, in the fol- 
 lowing letter, with a simplicity and earnestness which would 
 seem to render all further testimony on this point superfluous. 
 There is however one, among the many tributes to his military 
 character, which it would be unjust to omit, — that of the cele- 
 brated Mr. William Cobbett, who was, at the time of which 
 we are speaking, serjeant-major of the 54th, and had even 
 then, it is said, made himself distinguished by the vigour of 
 his talents. To Lord Edward's kindness Mr. Cobbett owed 
 his subsequent discharge from the L«rmy ; * and, in the year 
 1800, as he himself tells us, while dining one day with Mr. 
 Pitt, on being asked by that statesman some questions respect- 
 ing his former officer, he answered that " Lord Edward was a 
 most humane and excellent man, and the only really honest 
 officer he ever knew in the army." 
 
 "October, 28th, 1788. 
 " Indeed, dearest mother, being so long and far away from 
 you is terrible. To think that one is in a good way is but 
 poor consolation. However, on considering all things, one can 
 
 * " I got my discharge from tlie army by the great kindness of poor 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who was then major of my regiment." — 
 Cobbett's Advice to Young Men. 
 
68 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 reconcile one's self to it now better than at any other time. 
 Certainly, by being here now for a year, I have a better plea, 
 in case I change regiments, to stay at home, than if I had re- 
 mained there upon my first coming on full pay. Besides, it is 
 doing my duty myself, according to those strict rules I require 
 from others, and entering into the true, proper spirit of a 
 soldier, without which spirit a military life is and must be the 
 devil. No person of feeling and justice can require from 
 others what he wont do himself. Besides, one learns, I am 
 sure, more in half a year in one's regiment than in two years' 
 reading. Theory without practice will not do ; and, by being 
 lorn; idle, one loses that confidence in one's self wiiich is neces- 
 sary for an officer who is to have any command. 
 
 " If I had stayed too, I should always have been miserable 
 about G * *. I could not have enjoyed any thing. 1 am 
 always disagreeable when I am in love, and perhaps you would 
 all have grown to think me disagreeable. You know, when I 
 am with you, I forget the comfort you are to me ; and I 
 sliould of course not have had, as now, the consciousness that 
 I am doing my duty to keep me up. Another thing, too, I 
 will own, that after the part dear Leinster has acted, 1 should 
 have been ashamed to show my face in Ireland. The feel of 
 being ashamed of the actions of one we love is dreadful, and 
 I certainly this winter would not have supported him, though 
 I would not oppose him : he would have been angry, and 
 there would have been a coolness which would have vexed me 
 very much. I have had many quiet serious hours here to 
 think about what he has done, and I cannot reconcile myself 
 to it by any argument. His conduct both to the public and 
 individuals is not what it ought to have been. In short, ray 
 dear mother, it hurts me very much, tliough I do all I can to 
 get the better of it. I know it is weakness and folly, but 
 then the action is done, — the shame is incurred. 
 
 " Pray tell Ogilvie that I seriously beg he will not even 
 mention or do any thing about my lieutenant-colonelcy. I am 
 determined to have uotliing till I am out of parliament : at 
 least I am contented with my rank and my situation. I have 
 no ambition for rank ; and however I might be flattered by 
 cettini:: on, it would never pnv me for a blush for mv actions. 
 Tiie feeling of shame is what I never could bear. The mens 
 coiiscia rcdi (Ogilvie will construe this for you") is the only 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 59 
 
 thing that makes life supportable. With the help he has 
 given, dear fellow, to Kilrush, and mj present rank, I shall do 
 very well. And pray do you tell Leinster from me, that I do 
 not wish to purchase at present, or that he should do any 
 thing about a lieutenant-colonelcy. I know dear Ogilvie, in 
 his affection and eagerness for me, will be provoked ; but then 
 he must consider, that, feeling this way, I am right. Pray 
 represent it strongly to him, and make him remember how 
 obstinate I am when I once take a resolution. To make up 
 for all this, tell him I am going on prudently in the money 
 way here, and am in hopes to return with a little cash in my 
 pocket. 
 
 " I have been obliged to stop my studying for some time, 
 and have been employed in building huts, or rather barracks, 
 for a part of our regiment. It is a scheme of Lord Dorces- 
 ter's, but he has found so many difficulties opposed to it, that 
 it was never undertaken. These, however, I have got over, 
 notwithstanding engineers, artificers, barrack-masters, old offi- 
 cers, &c. &c., and hope I shall succeed. You may guess how 
 eager I have been. This is all the news I have about myself. 
 Our winter is setting in violently, thank God. I shall visit 
 you with the swallows : — I wish I could be frozen till then. 
 Good bye : ten thousand loves." 
 
 The allusions, in the foregoing letter, to the Duke of Leins- 
 ter, require some e^^planation. On the appointment of the 
 Marquis of Buckingham, for the second time, to the Lord 
 Lieutenancy of Ireland, the popularity which his first short 
 administration had obtained, secured for him a reception of 
 the most enthusiastic kind ; and not only was the general tone 
 of opposition considerably softened down 'during the whole 
 session of 1788, but some of those who had been, up to this 
 period, most constant to the Whig ranks, now thought them- 
 selves justified in supporting and even taking office under Lord 
 Buckingham's government. Among these new converts to 
 the Castle was the Duke of Leinster, and to his grace's deser- 
 tion from the standard of Opposition, Lord Edward's letters, 
 at this period, allude. 
 
60 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 "November 1, 1788. 
 " MY DEAR OGILVIE, 
 
 "I am sure you will be sorry to hear you were a good 
 
 prophet, in foretelling that my lieut.-colonel would go home. 
 
 It is exactly as you said : he has taken himself off, and left 
 
 me the honour of commanding the regiment here. Therefore, 
 
 if I don't get the king's leave, I must stay two years, if the 
 
 regiment don't go home. I have written to uncle Richmond, 
 
 to beg if he will procure me leave, or try and get the regiment 
 
 home, which it is well entitled to, as it has been fifteen years 
 
 in this country. I think you had better not say an> thing of 
 
 this to mother ; and caution any of them that should hear of 
 
 it not to mention it to her. It would really be too bad to 
 
 stay here two years. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Good bye, my good friend ; I wish you a pleasant winter, 
 but am very glad I do not pass it with you ; for, take all into 
 the bararain, I am certainlv better here. Leinster's conduct 
 is too foolish and too shabby — I hate thinking of it ; I am 
 determined, however, it shall not vex me ; but that I may be 
 totally clear, I must l3eg you will not mention any thing about 
 me to him. This hanged majority brought me into one scrape 
 unwillingly, but for the time to come I am determined to be 
 clear. Do not, my dear friend, let your eagerness for my wel- 
 fare make you stir in this, for you really will vex me very 
 much if you do ; you know I am an odd fellow, and you must 
 give way to me. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear dear Harry has got into a little kind 
 of a scrape with uncle Richmond about canvassing, — I own I 
 think it was natural for him to do so ; but in the particular 
 situation of things I wish he had not taken a part, as Charles 
 Fox himself was not concerned. I am glad I was away, for 
 I certainly would not have canvassed for Hood, Tony says, 
 if Lord Robert goes on in the way he is doing, he will soon 
 be a major, I l^elieve Henry and I are the only two honest 
 ones in the family.'^ 
 
 It was, at first, evidently the intention of Lord Edward, as 
 well as of his brother, Lord Henry, not to identify themselves 
 with the Duke of Leinster's new line of politics, but to remain 
 in opposition. The prospect, however, of such a political 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 61 
 
 schism ia the family exciting alarm in the Duke of Richmond, 
 he addressed a letter, full of affectionate remonstrance, to 
 Lord Edward, who allowed himself to be so far softened by 
 his uncle's appeal as to consent that, while he continued the 
 Duke of Leinster's member, his vote should be as hitherto, at 
 his grace's disposal. At the same time, it will be seen, while 
 yielding thus to family feelings, he took care that no views of 
 interest should be supposed to have influenced the concession, 
 nor his own future independence compromised by the accept- 
 ance of any favor from those he joined. 
 
 Considering how lax were the notions prevalent, at that 
 period, among Irishmen, of both parties, on the subjects of 
 patronage and jobbing, this sacrifice, on the part of Lord 
 Edward, of the fondest object of his ambition, military pro- 
 motion, to a feeling which he well knew all connected with 
 him would consider foolishly punctilious, required no ordinary 
 effort of character, and most abundantly disproves the story 
 so often repeated, that to his mortification at having been 
 passed over by the government on some occasion of promo- 
 tion, the whole origin of his revolutionary fervour is to be at- 
 tributed. 
 
 "November 21, 1788. 
 "dearest mother, 
 
 • " I have got a letter from uncle Richmond, "which was as 
 kind as possible ; every thing he does only makes one love him 
 the more. He says, in his letter, that, as Leinster is come 
 over completely to government, he can see no reason why I 
 should not now act with my brother and uncle. In my answer 
 I have agreed with him, and said that I certainly shall ; be- 
 cause, upon consideration, though I think Leinster w^rong, and 
 told him so beforehand, yet as he has taken that part, it would 
 be wrong not to support him — we being certainly his mem- 
 bers, and brought in by him with an idea that he might de- 
 pend upon our always acting with him. 
 
 *' With all this, however, I am determmed not to take any 
 thing, lieut.-colonelcy or any thing else. I wish my actions 
 not to be biassed by any such motive ; but that I may feel I 
 am only acting in this manner, because I think it right. Be- 
 sides, by my taking nothing, Leinster can the more easily pro- 
 vide for his friends, some of whom he is bound in honour to 
 
62 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 make provision for. I have written to uncle Richmond to 
 this same purpose, telling liow I meant to act, and liow I felt,- 
 and therefore trust he will not persist in trying to get me a 
 lieut.-coloaelcy. I am content as I am ; — I am not ambitious 
 to get on. 1 like the service for its own sake, whether major, 
 lieut.-colonel, or general, it is the same to me. High rank in 
 it, I do not aspire to ; if I am found fit for command, I shall 
 get it ; if I am not, God knows, I am better without it. The 
 sole aml^ition I have is to be deserving : to deserve a reward 
 is to me far pleasanter than to obtain it. I am afraid you 
 will say I am foolish about this ; but as it is a folly that hurts 
 nobody, it may have its fling. I will not, however, trouble 
 you any more about all this hanged stuff, for I am tired of 
 thinlving of it. 
 
 " I will now give you some account of myself, what I do, 
 and how I do. Our winter is quite set in, and the river frozen 
 over, and I am skating from morning till night. I don't know 
 how long the rage will last, but while it does, it is very plea- 
 sant : I begin in the morning as soon as it is light, stay till 
 breakfast, go out, and stay again till it is time to dress and 
 parade. Luckily, I have no other necessary business now, 
 for our drilling is over till spring, except twice a week taking 
 a good long march ; the snow, I believe, will soon stop that, 
 and then I mean to go to Quebec in snow shoes. I believe I 
 shall be out most of the winter. I have two or three hunting 
 parties to go on, and they seldom last longer than a fortnight ; 
 these, and my journey to Quebec, and some excursions from 
 thence, will take up most of my winter. I long to give you 
 an account of some of my trips : the idea of being out of 
 doors, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, and of 
 overcoming all the difficulties of nature, by the ingenuity of 
 man, delights me. Every body who has tried this says, it is 
 much the warmest way of living in winter ; for, by being in 
 the woods, you are sheltered from the winds ; and, at night, 
 by clearing away the snow, banking it up round, and in the 
 middle of the space making a large tire, you are much warmer 
 than in the best house. This is what I hear. 
 
 " You may guess how eager I am to try if I like the woods 
 in winter as vrell as in summer. I believe I shall never again 
 be prevailed on to live in a house. I long to teach you all 
 how to make a good spruce bed. Three of the coldest nights 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 63 
 
 we have had yet, I slept in the woods with only one blanket, 
 and was just as coraiortable as in a room. It was in a party 
 with Gen. Carleton, we went about twenty miles from this to 
 look at a fine tract of land that had been passed over in 
 winter. You may guess how I enjoyed this expedition, being 
 where, in all probability, there had never been but one person 
 before ; v/e struck the land the first night and lay there ; we 
 spent three days afterwards in going over it. It will be now 
 soon settled. I cannot describe all the feelings one has in 
 these excursions, when one wakens, — perhaps in the middle 
 of the night, in a fine open forest, all your companions snoring 
 about you, the moon shining through the trees, the burning 
 of the fire, — in short every thing strikes you. Dearest, dear- 
 est mother, how I have thought of you at those times, and of 
 all at dear Frescati ! and after being tired of thinking, lying 
 down like a dog, and falling asleep till daybreak ; then getting 
 up, no dressing, or clothing, or trouble, but just giving oneself 
 a shake, and away to the spring to wash one's face. I have 
 had two parties with the savages which are still pleasanter, — 
 you may guess the reason — there are des dames, who are the 
 most comical creatures in the world." 
 
 "December, 1788. 
 "my dear ogilvie, 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your comfortable long letter 
 
 of September 25th. I am not afironted at your remark on a 
 
 ' paucity of ideas ' and * an empty skull,' and agree with you 
 
 that they are great blessings. Notwithstanding you declare 
 
 you did not mean me, yet I do plead a little guilty to a 
 
 ' paucity of ideas.' I like my mother's thinking I should be 
 
 atfronted ! Tell her that in New Brunswick one cannot afford 
 
 to be affronted vv^ith those one loves. One of the good things 
 
 we learn by absence from friends is, seeing the folly of being 
 
 huffed or affronted at trifles. I often tliink now, what a 
 
 number of happy times I have lost by being angry at things 
 
 that have passed when we were all together ; whereas here, 
 
 where I am among people I don't care much for, I am never 
 
 out of temper. It really is, when one considers it, too 
 
 ridiculous." 
 
 "February 2, 1789. 
 
 " You see, my dear 0., by this letter that though you have 
 
64 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 not heard from me, it is not my fault. Ever since the setting 
 in of winter we have been blocked up, and have had no com- 
 munication with New York, where all the packets go now. I 
 have been snow-shoeing continually, reading a good deal, and 
 improving, I think, in my profession. If I had some of the 
 people I loved with me, I should lead a happy life, — the only 
 drawback I have is the distance from them. 
 
 " I have been out hunting, and like it very much, — it makes 
 me un peu sauvage, to be sure. I am to set out in two days 
 for Canada ; it is a journey of one hundred and seventy-five 
 miles, and I go straight through the woods. There is an 
 officer of the regiment goes with me. We make altogether a 
 party of five, — Tony, two woodsmen, the officer, and myself. 
 We take all our provisions with us on tabargins. It will 
 appear strange to you, or any people in England, to think of 
 starting in February, with four feet snow on the ground, to 
 march through a desert wood of one hundred and seventy-five 
 miles ; but it is nothing. You may guess we have not much 
 baggage. It will be a charming journey, I think, and quite 
 new. We are to keep a reckoning the same as at sea. I am 
 to steer, but under the direction of a woodsman. I was out 
 on an excursion the other day, and steered the whole way, 
 and though I traversed a great deal in between thirty and 
 thirty-five miles, out and in, I was not a half-mile out of my 
 course where I intended to strike. 
 
 " Besides this being a pleasant journey, it will be also in- 
 structive, as I go through the frontiers of our provinces, and 
 see the kind of country, if ever there is a war, that we are 
 likely to act in. A journey, too, of this kind, opens one's 
 eyes with regard to what men can do, and shows that there is 
 almost no difficulty that cannot be overcome by the perse- 
 verance and ingenuity of man. It certainly would a})pear odd 
 to a European officer, who had not passed a winter here, to 
 be told that winter would be the best time to move troops ; 
 and yet, from what I have seen, I am almost confident it 
 would be so. However, I shall know better after my journey, 
 I really believe the only difficult part would be, getting over 
 the prejudice of obstinate fools. General Carleton, who has 
 seen a great deal of service, is of my opinion ; he began to 
 try it the latter end of last war, and succeeded so far as to 
 get his regiment on snow shoes, but had not tried any long 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 65 
 
 marches, and since the war it has fallen through. I wanted 
 to get snow shoes for our men this year, but it was too ex- 
 pensive. 
 
 ** You may judge, with all these ideas floating in my head, 
 how I long to be on my journey : our route will be quite a 
 new one, and has not yet been gone by any body except 
 Indians. How delightful it will be when we strike the river 
 St. Lawrence, after being about twenty days m tlie woods ; 
 while, on the road, every river, or any thing else we meet, 
 will be a kind of discovery ! Our course is to be north, 
 60° 30' west : — but I fear I shall tire you with all this, so I 
 won't trouble you any more. When at Quebec, I will write 
 to you. As soon as we are well rested, I propose setting out 
 from thence to Xiagara ; but my letter from Quebec will 
 inform you better of my schemes, as I shall know more of the 
 matter then ; and while there, I expect to get letters from 
 some of you. 
 
 " I have mislaid your letter, but remember you say some- 
 thing about a road : — I certainly did order Feniarty to do it. 
 Les ahsens ont toiijours tort ; therefore I must pay for it. It 
 would be too bad to let the poor man suffer : pray tell Wolf 
 I feel very much obliged to him for the pains he has been at 
 about it. I think it very shabby in the other gentleman of 
 the county to have taken advantage of my absence, but I 
 believe there is un hien clique of fellows in that county : pray 
 do not let any of them into Kilrush, for they will only distress 
 and domineer over the poor tenants. I am glad to hear that, 
 upon the whole, the little spot gets on. I believe you will 
 make something of it at last. So much for business. I have 
 only spent my pay yet, and shall not want any money till I 
 go home. I am richer than ever I was yet. I have always 
 ^25 or i630 to the good, and pay ready money. I have given 
 away a good deal besides — more than I did at home. I cer- 
 tainly manage very well. 
 
 %!j, -«L» ■«i* «A» tS^ ^Ag 
 
 'iS 'I^ -T* -T* 'T* 'l^ 
 
 " Give my love to all the dear girls. Tell them I am as 
 great a fool as ever : I am afraid that it will stick to me all 
 the days of my life. I often long to lay aside the character 
 of major commanding his majesty's regiment, to play the fool 
 and buffoon ; — I am sure if Ciss was here I should. I know 
 this will provoke you. 
 
66 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " God bless you, my dear Ogilvie. Ten thousand loves to 
 dearest mother Tell her h pelU sauvagc will think of her 
 often in the woods. Indeed, the more savage I am, tlie more 
 I love her. She has a rope about ray heart that gives hard 
 tugs at it, and it is all I can do not to give way. Good bye 
 again. I hate ending a letter." 
 
 ''dearest mother, 
 
 " Quebec, March U, 1789. 
 
 " I got here yesterday, after a very long, and what some 
 people would think, a very tedious and fatiguing journey ; but 
 to me it was at worst only a little fatiguing ; and, to make 
 up for that, it was delightful, and quite new. We were thirty 
 days on our march, twenty-six of which we were in the wood, 
 and never saw a soul but our own party. 
 
 " You must know we came through a part of the country 
 that had been always reckoned impassable. In short, instead 
 of going a long way about, we determined to try and get 
 straight through the woods, and see what kind of country it 
 was. I believe I mentioned my party in a letter to Ogilvie 
 before I left St. Anne's or Fredericktown : it was an officer 
 of the regiment, Tony, and two woodsmen. The officer and 
 I used to draw part of our baggage day about, and the other 
 day steer, which we did so well, that we made tlie point we 
 intended within ten miles. We were only wrong in comput- 
 ing our distances, and making them a little too great, which 
 obli<2:ed us to follow a new course, and make a river which led 
 us round to Quebec, instead of going straight to it. How- 
 ever, we gained by it ; for though, when we took the river, 
 we were only twenty miles from Quebec, yet the country be- 
 tween was so mountainous and bad, we should have been two 
 days longer than by the river. I am talking, I fear, unintel- 
 ligible language to you, but I hope soon, dear mother, to ex- 
 plain it. 
 
 " I expect my leave by the first despatches, and will lose no 
 time when I get it. I shall not be able to leave this part of 
 the world till May, as I cannot get my leave before that. 
 How I do long to see you ! Your old love. Lord Dorchester, 
 is very civil to me. I must, though, tell you a little more of 
 the journey : after making the river, we fell in with some 
 savages, and travelled with them to Quebec ; they were very 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 6*1 
 
 kind to US, and said we were ' all one brother ' — all ' one In- 
 dian.' They fed us the whole time we were with them. You 
 would have laughed to have seen me carrying an old squaw's 
 pack, which was so heavy 1 could hardly waddle under it. 
 However, I was well paid whenever we stopped, for she 
 ahvays gave me the best bits, and most soup, and took as 
 much care of me as if I had been her own son : in short, I 
 was quite V enfant chiri. We were quite sorry to part : the 
 old lady and gentleman both kissed me very heartily. I gave 
 the old lady one of Sophia's silver spoons, which pleased her 
 very much. 
 
 " When we got here, you may guess what figures we were : 
 we had not shaved or washed during the journey ; our blan- 
 ket, coats, and trousers all worn out and pieced : — in short, 
 we went to two or three houses and they would not let us in. 
 There was one old ladv, exactlv the hotesse in Gil Bias, elk me 
 ^rit la mesiire du pied jiisqib' a la tele, and told me there was 
 one room, without a stove or bed, next a billiard room, which 
 I might have if I pleased ; and when I told her we were gen- 
 tlemen, she very quietly said, ' I dare say you are,' and off 
 she went. However, at last we got lodgings in an ale-house, 
 and you may guess eat well and slept well, and went next day, 
 well dressed, with one of Lord Dorchester's aides-de-camp, to 
 triumph over the old lady ; in short, — exactly the story in Gil 
 Bias. We are quite curiosities here after our journey ; some 
 think we were mad to undertake it ; some think we were lost; 
 some will have it we were starved ; in short, there are a thou- 
 sand lies, but we are safe and well, enjoying rest and good 
 eating most completely. One ought really to take these fillips 
 now and then ; they make one enjoy life a great deal more. 
 
 " The hours here are a little inconvenient to us as vet : 
 whenever we wake at night, we want to eat, the same as in 
 the woods, and as soon as we eat, we want to sleep. In our 
 journey we were always up two hours before day, to load and 
 get ready to march ; we used to stop between three and four, 
 and it generally took us from that till night to shovel out the 
 snow, cut wood, cook, and get ready for night ; so that imme- 
 diately after our suppers, we were asleep, and whenever any 
 one wakes in the night, he puts some wood on the fire, and 
 eats a bit before he lies down again ; but for my part, I was 
 not much troubled with waking in the night. 
 
68 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " I really do think there is no luxury equal to that of lying 
 before a good fire on a good spruce bed, after a good supper, 
 and a hard moose chase in a line clear frosty moonlight starry 
 night. But to enter into the spirit of this, you must under- 
 stand what a moose chase is : the man himself runs the moose 
 down by pursuing the track. Your success in killing depends 
 on the number of people you have to pursue and relieve one 
 another in going first (which is the fatiguing part of snow- 
 shoeing), and on the depth and hardness of the snow ; for 
 when the snow is hard, and hast a crust, the moose cannot get 
 on, as it cuts his legs, and then he stops to make battle. But 
 when the snow is soft, though it be above his belly, he will go 
 on, three, four, or five days, for then the man cannot get on 
 so fast, as the snow is heavy, and he only gets his game by 
 perseverance, — an Indian never gives him up. 
 
 " We had a fine chase after one, and ran him down in a 
 day and a half, though the snow was very soft ; but it was so 
 deep the animal was up to his belly every step. We started 
 him about twelve o'clock one day, left our baggage, took 
 three days' bread, two days' pork, our axe and fireworks, and 
 pursued. He beat us at first all to nothing ; towards even- 
 ing we had a sight of him, but he beat us again : we encamp- 
 ed that night, eat our bit of pork, and gave chase again, as 
 soon as we could see the track iu the morning. In about an 
 hour we roused the fellow a2:ain, and off he set, fresh to all 
 appearance as ever ; but in about two hours after we perceiv- 
 ed his steps grew shorter, and some time after we got sight. 
 He still, however, beat us ; but at last we evidently perceived 
 he began to tire ; we saw he began to turn oftener ; we got 
 accordingly courage, and pursued faster, and at last, for three 
 quarters of an hour, in fine open wood, pursued him all the 
 way in sight, and came within shot ; — he stopped, but in vain, 
 poor animal. 
 
 " I cannot help being sorry now for the poor creature, — and 
 was then. At first it was charming, but as soon as we had 
 him in our power, it was melancholy ; however, it was soon 
 over, and it was no pain to him. If it was not for this last 
 part, it would be a delightful amusement. I am sorry to say, 
 though, that in a few hours the good passion wore oft', and the 
 animal one predominated. I enjoyed most heartily the eathig 
 him and cooking him : — iu short, I forgot the animal, and 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. (59 
 
 only thought of my hunger and fatigue. "We are beasts, 
 dearest mother, I am sorry to say it. In two days after, we 
 joined our baggage, and pursued our journey. 
 
 " My letter is getting too long, and all about myself ; — you 
 know I hate that, but I must give you some of my intended 
 motions. I set out for Niagara, as soon as possible, and by 
 my return expect to find my leave, and a ship to take me to 
 mv dearest mother. God alone knows how I lono: to be with 
 you ! my heart cannot he content while I am so far away 
 from you. Give my love to all. How I long to feel all your 
 arms about my neck ! — but, if I give way to these thoughts, 
 I shall be good for nothing. As it is, I am always low spirit- 
 ed after writing, for two days at least : — otherwise perfectly 
 well. I am sure it will be pleasant to you to find that cold 
 as well as heat agrees with me ; so you may be always easy 
 about me, dearest mother. If G * * should love me, when 
 I go home, I shall be the happiest fellow in the world, — that 
 is the only drawback I feel in the happiness of seeing you all 
 so soon. 
 
 " Pray write to uncle Richmond ; I would write, if there 
 was time, but I have only time to fill up this. Give my affec- 
 tionate love to him. Ten thousand million blessings attend 
 you all, dearest, dearest mother. I will see you soon, — what 
 happiness ! It has been a long year, but I did all I could to 
 shorten it. I wish I was in the woods, tired and sleepy, I 
 should soon forget you all. Love to dear aunt Louisa. When 
 I end a letter, the thoughts of you all come so thick upon me, 
 I don't know which to speak to, — so in a lump, God bless 
 you, men, women, and children. I am going foolish. 
 
 While his lordship was engaged in this difficult and adven- 
 turous journey, out of which none but a spirit and frame 
 hardy as his own could have contrived to extract enjoyment, 
 affairs interesting both to his family and himself were taking 
 place in England, were, on account of the serious illness of 
 the king, at the commencement of the year, it had become 
 necessary to bring under the consideration of Parliament the 
 speedy establishment of a Regency. The Duke of Leinster, 
 whose late desertion from the ranks of the Opposition had 
 been regarded less, perhaps, with anger than regret by his 
 
TO MEMOIRS OF 
 
 party, was now, by the line be took on the great question of 
 the Regency, iu tlie Irish House of Lords, restored to his 
 natural position ; and was one of the personages deputed to 
 carry that memorable Address to the Prince of Wales, on 
 which, from the glimpse it gave of the consequences likely to 
 arise from the exercise of a separate will by Ireland, was 
 founded one of the plausable pretexts for the extinction of 
 her Legislature. 
 
 The following letter of Mr. Fox to Lord Henry Fitzgerald, 
 written during the progress of the Regency Bill through Par- 
 liament, will show that Mr. Fox's opinion of the short aber- 
 ration of the Duke of Leinster coincided with that of Lord 
 Edward, and mav also convey some notion of the kind and 
 friendly interest with which the latter was always regarded by 
 that distin2:uished statesmen. 
 
 'o" 
 
 " MY DEAR HEXRY, 
 
 " Bath, February 1, IV 89. 
 
 " I am sure you will not much wonder at my not having 
 yet answered your letter, when you consider that I have had 
 both sickness and business to prevent me. You may assure the 
 Duke of Leinster from me that nothing can give me greater 
 satisfaction than the prospect of our acting together in poli- 
 tics, and you know, though I could not so far dissemble as to 
 say I apin'oved of what I did not, I never had a feeling to- 
 wards him inconsistent with that kindness which naturally be- 
 longs to so long, and in the early part of our lives, so very 
 intimate an acquaintance. AYith respect to you and Edward, 
 I must be ungrateful indeed, if I did not consider the oppor- 
 tunity of showing my friendship to you two, as one of the 
 pleasantest circumstances attending power. One of the first 
 acts of the Re2:encv will be to make Edward lieut.-colonel of 
 the Royal Irish ; and if a scheme, which is in agitation, takes 
 place, I think I shall have an opportunity of getting for you, 
 too, a lift in your profession, which I take for granted is your 
 principal object. As I shall probably return to my old office 
 of Foreia'n Affairs, I should be glad to know whether vou or 
 Edward have any inclination to foreign employment, that I 
 may have a view to vour wishes in future arrano-ements. With 
 regard to Lord Robert, he must wait a little j but if our ad- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 71 
 
 ministration continues, you may be assured that his prospects 
 shall not be the worse for one cousin ijeing in power rather 
 than another. Pray give my love to the D. L., and believe 
 me, my dear Henry, 
 
 " Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " C. J. Fox." 
 
 The plan of Lord Edward's route through the woods was 
 forwarded from Quebec to the Duke of Richmond, by Mr. 
 Hamilton Moore, with the letter that follows : — 
 
 " Quebec, May 22, 1789. 
 "my LORD DUKE, 
 
 " I take the libertv of enclosin<2: to your "rrace, by the hands 
 of Mr. Jones, a sketch of Lord Edward's route from Fred- 
 erickstown, in New Brunswick, to this place. It was really 
 an arduous and dangerous undertaking, entirely through unin- 
 habited woods, morasses, and mountains, a route never before 
 attempted, even by the Indians. He was only attended by a 
 Mr. Brisbane, a brother officer, and his own servant. In 
 such expeditions lord and servant are alike, for each must 
 carry his ov.'n provisions. They accomplished the journey in 
 twent3'-six days, lying out of course at night in the woods, 
 without any covering except their blanket-coats. They steered 
 by compass, and so well as to enter the river St. Lawrence, 
 witliiu a league of Quebec, in a direct line from Fredericks- 
 town. Your grace will perceive the journey was accomplished 
 in 175 miles, — the way always before travelled, by the 
 rivers St. John, Madwaska, and Kamouraska, being at least 
 3T5 miles. 
 
 " Lord Edward left this the latter end of April in high 
 health and spirits, on his route to Europe, by the river Mis- 
 sissippi and the gulf of Mexico, and through Spain ; it w^ill be 
 a tedious journey, the entrance of the river being upwards of 
 600 leagues from hence. I shall perhaps hear of Lord Ed- 
 ward on his journey ; any thing that occurs, the least inte- 
 resting to your grace's family, I shall take the liberty of com- 
 municating, as a countryman feeling highly interested for 
 everv Ijranch of it. Lord Edward has met with the esteem 
 and admiration of all here, and, I must say, witiiout flattery, 
 
T2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 deservedly so — and I hope yet to see him at the head of his 
 profession, for which he seems so well formed. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, &c. 
 
 '* Hamilton Moore." 
 
 II 
 
 " Quebec, April 12th, 1789. 
 MY DEAR OGILVIE, 
 
 " You or my mother will have got by this time the letter I 
 wrote on my arrival. I had not then perfectly determined on 
 my future movements, but my plans are now all fixed. I 
 found, upon inquiry, that there was no getting from hence 
 directly till June. I therefore determined to make the best 
 of my time here, by seeing all our outposts, and to do that 
 perfectly it will take me to the month of July, as they are 
 more extensive than I thought. Now when I get to the 
 upper country, it will not make more than a month's difference 
 whether I go down the Mississippi to New Orleans or return 
 here. I have therefore resolved to take that tour : it will, to 
 be sure, make three months difference in the time of seeinar 
 you ; but then I really think the object is worth while. I 
 can never have such another opportunity : certainly I shall 
 never be here again at twenty-five, and in good health. 
 
 " I have a great many struggles with myself a1)out it : — the 
 temptation of going home and seeing you all, and living quietly 
 with you at Frescati till the regiment returns, is very great. 
 But then again the curiosity I have to make this tour, — and 
 I may say, indeed, I always have had the desire, though I 
 thought it very unlikely I should ever be able to put it in 
 execution. Tlien again when I consider that I shall see a 
 country which must soon be a scene of action, and that very 
 probably I may be myself employed there, I am spurred on to 
 undertake it. I have, besides, some schemes of my own, 
 which this journey will be of great use in clearing up my ideas 
 upon : they are too long to mention now, but when we meet 
 we will talk them over. 
 
 ** You see I either have, or fancy I have, good reasons for 
 undertaking the journey ; at home you will think it, perhaps, 
 a little mad, but if vou were here I am sure vou would do it 
 yourself. It will be a little fatiguing, but that you know I 
 don't mind. It will not be very expensive, particularly as I 
 go all the first part with a relief of troops that are proceeding 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. '13 
 
 up as far as Lake Superior. I am not quite determined 
 whether I will go up quite so far, perhaps only as far as De- 
 troit, from that to the Fort Pitt, and from thence to the 
 Ohio, and down it to the Missisippi. However, before I set 
 off, YOU shall hear. When once 1 begin to go south, I shall 
 go faster than my letter. 
 
 *' I long to set out. You cannot think how eager I am 
 about this journey — ■/ ai la tete month about it. If it were 
 not for the time it will keep me from dearest, dearest mother, 
 I should be perfectly happy in the idea of it : but then again, 
 when I think the little difference it will make, and that the 
 longer one is away the happier one is to meet, and that I shall 
 have so much to tell her ! — why I shall have stories enough 
 to set her to sleep for a year. I expect in the winter to 
 have you all about me, listening to all the wonders I have 
 seen. 
 
 " I heard about you all from a woman here, an acquaint- 
 ance of Mrs. Ward's, but I have not had any letters from 
 yourselves since November. It is terrible to be so long with- 
 out letters, but as I heard you were all well, I am easy. We 
 M'e all anxious here to know about the Regency. I have no 
 idea what turn affairs will take : there certainly will be great 
 confusion. I am afraid it will be of dis-service to England in 
 the present state of Europe ; but it will be all settled by the 
 time I come, so I won't trouble my brain about it. 
 
 ^ jji H: >!' ^ >i« 
 
 " How did poor Kilrush do this summer ? I should like to 
 hear about it. I will write to mother by another post, that 
 goes from this on the 18th, though I own I am a little afraid. 
 I know she will be angry with me for a short while, but you 
 must take my part. Dear soul, when she reflects, vshe will 
 forgive me, for she is all reason. 
 
 ^^ ^^ ^[^ i-j-* *^ "^ 
 
 " Since I began this, the Kent. -governor of Quebec is dead. 
 It is a place of £1600 a year, and I think would do very well 
 for Charles. The day before he died I was in treaty for his 
 lieut.-colonelcy in the 44th regiment. If he had lived two 
 davs longer, I should have had it. We are here so ignorant 
 about the politics in England, one does not knov>' how to try 
 for it. In case the ministry are changed, Leinster cannot 
 with conscience ask any thing ; and, if he goes out, I certainly 
 
14 MEirOIRS OF 
 
 would not 2*0 a2:aiiist him and the Duke of Richmond for all 
 the lieut.-colonelcies in the world. If there is a change, he 
 and Charles will be a little puzzled ; but I would at any time 
 rather go out with them than in with them." 
 
 " Montreal, May 4th, 1789. 
 "my dearest mother, 
 
 " I have been here a week, and set off in a few hours to 
 begin my long journey. The weather is charming, — no suow, 
 every thing green : — but Emily Montague will tell you all 
 that better than I can. Really, after our long winter, we do 
 enjoy spring. Ten days ago, I set out from Quebec in five 
 feet of snow. I am delighted to be on the go again. I shall 
 see Niagara in high perfection. I am in good health and in 
 good spirits. I heard from a gentleman here about you all : 
 you were all well, thank God ; but I have not heard myself 
 a great while, though I v^'ish to hear. I believe it is better 
 not, for I should want to go home, and not see all I intend to 
 do : — at present, je m^etourdis la-dcssiis ; and I am determined 
 to make use of my time. One of your letters would weaken 
 me, dear mother ; and, till I see you, the less I think of you 
 the better. When once I get home, I shall stick close for a 
 great while. 
 
 " I have nothing new to tell you, for at Quebec and here I 
 have done nothino: but feast, and I am horriblv tired of it : 
 my letters from up the country will be pleasanter. The 
 Canadians are good people, — very like the French, and of 
 course I like them. There was one family at Quebec very 
 pleasant and very good to me, — a mother and two pretty 
 daughters. Don't be afraid — I was not in love. We were 
 very sorry to part. However, it did not last long. I tell it 
 you, because it was the only kind feel I have had for a woman 
 since I left England. I wish it had lasted a little longer. 
 
 " What would I give to hear a pleasant account of G "^ * ! 
 but I despair — so will not think of it. I suppose Fred, is 
 married by this time. I should like to hear how you have 
 gone on with the dear, dear girls in London ; but I won't 
 think of or about any of you. Love to every body. God 
 bless you, dearest, dearest mother — how I long to be with 
 
LORD ED'^ARD FITZGERALD. T5 
 
 yoa ! I am an odd fellow. — Good l^ye. — I won't let myself 
 think of yon again till I am in the Missisippi." 
 
 "Fort Erie, June 1, 1789. 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " I am just come from the Falls of Xiagara. To describe 
 them is impossible. I stayed three days admiring, and was 
 absolutely obliged to tear myself away at last. As I said 
 before, to describe them would be impossible : — Homer could 
 not in writing, nor Claude Lorraine in painting : your own 
 imagination must do it. The immense height and noise of the 
 Falls, the spray that rises to the clouds — in short, it forms all 
 together a scene that is well worth the trouble of coming from 
 Europe to see. Then, the greenness and tranquillity of every 
 thing about, the quiet of the immense forests around, com- 
 pared with the violence of all that is close to the Falls, — but 
 I will not go on, for I should never end, 
 
 >i< ^ ;•; ^ ^ ^ 
 
 " I set out to-morrow for Detroit : I go with one of the 
 Indian chiefs, Joseph Brant, he that was in England. We 
 have taken very much to one another. I shall entertain you 
 very much with his remarks on England, and the Emjlish, 
 while he was there. Instead of crossing Lake Erie in a ship, 
 I go in canoes up and down rivers. In crossing Lake On- 
 tario, I was as sick as at sea, — so you may guess I prefer 
 canoeing ; — besides, my friend Joseph always travels with 
 company ; and we shall go through a number of Indian vil- 
 lages. If you only stop an hour, they have a dance for you. 
 They are delightful people ; the ladies charming, and with 
 manners that I like very much, they are so natural. Not- 
 withstanding the life they lead, which would make most 
 women rough and masculine, they are as soft, meek, and 
 modest as the best brought up girls in England. At the 
 same time, they are coquettes au possible. Conceive the 
 manners of Mimi in a poor squaw, that has been carrying 
 packs in the woods all her life. 
 
 " I must make haste and finish my letter, for I am just 
 going to set off. I shall be at Miehilimackinack in nineteen 
 days. My journey then will be soon over, for from that I 
 shall soon reach the Missisippi, and down it to Xew Orleans, 
 and then to my dearest mother to Frescati, to relate all my 
 
16 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 journey in the little book-room. I shall then be happy. 
 Give my love to all. I think often of you all in these wild 
 woods : — they are better than rooms. Ireland and England 
 will be too little for me when I go home. If I could carry 
 my dearest mother about with me, I should be completely 
 happy here." 
 
 " Detroit, June 20. 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " It is SO hot I can hardly hold the pen. My hand trembles 
 so, you will be hardly able to read my letter. My journey 
 quite answered my expectations. I set out to-morrow for 
 Michilimaekinack, and then down the Missisippi. I am in 
 rude health. As soon as I get to the Missisippi I reckon my 
 journey half over. I can say no more, for really it is too hot 
 for any thing but lying on a mat. Entre nmis, I am in a lit- 
 tle sorrow, as I am to part to-morrow with a fellovv^-traveller 
 who has been very pleasant and taken great care of me : — les 
 plus courtes folies sont les Dmlleiires. I have been adopted by 
 one of the Nations, and am now a thorough Indian." 
 
 His adoption by the native Indians, which he here men- 
 tions, took place at Detroit, through the medium of the Chief 
 of the Six Nations, David Hill, by whom he was formally 
 inducted into the Bear Tribe, and made one of their Chiefs. 
 Tiie document by which this wild honour was conferred upon 
 him has been preserved among his papers, and is, in Indian 
 and English, as follows : — 
 
 '' David Hill's letter to Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Chief of 
 the Bear Tribe. 
 
 ^'TVag/igoiigh Sen non Fryer 
 Ne nen Seghj/rnge ni i 
 Ye Sayats Eg/in id a I 
 
 Ethonayyere David Hill 
 
 Karonghyontiie 
 
 lyogh Saghnontyon 
 
 21 June, 1789. 
 
 " /, David Hill, Chief of the. Six Xations, girt the name 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. *l*l 
 
 of Eghnidal to my friend Lord Edward Fitzgerald, for 
 which I ho^e he will remember me as long as he lives. 
 
 " The name belongs to the Bear TribeP 
 
 " Michilimackinack, 
 July 9, 1789. 
 
 "dearest mother, 
 
 " I know you will be a little angry with me for undertaking 
 this long journey. I really believe that had I thought it 
 would have taken me so much time I should not have begun 
 it ; but as I have got so far, it would be foolish not to con- 
 tinue and finish it well. I have now but one month more of 
 hard work to gain the Missisippi, and then I shall get on 
 easily. However, I am afraid the different embarkations, and 
 the chance of not finding shij^s ready, will prevent my being 
 in England till February. 
 
 " What vexes me most is that you will be uneasy at not hear- 
 ing from me during that time. But then you may rest assured, 
 dearest mother, that I am quite well all the time, for this 
 going about keeps me in perfect health. I have not had so 
 much as a fin2:er-ache since I left En^rland ; and if it was not 
 for my absence from you, I should be perfectly happy. Even 
 if I was at home, being with you would be my only comfort ; 
 for though I force myself not to think of * * here, and go 
 on very well, yet if I were near her, I should, I know, get 
 unhappy again ; and it would end in my going to Germany 
 or Russia, which would be still worse than this. When I am 
 not happy, I must either be soldiering or preparing to be a 
 soldier, — which is what I think I am doing in this journey, — 
 for stay quiet, I believe, I cannot. Why did you give me 
 either such a head or such a heart ! I don't know which it 
 is ; but, — dearest mother, once I get home, you shall do what 
 you please with me, and chain me down to Frescati, 
 
 " I long to be set a-going again, — it is the only chance I 
 have. I set out to-morrow. 1 have got a canoe, with five 
 men, — every thing is laid in : — I am ol)liged to have one to 
 myself, to carry a few presents for the Ind.ian villages I pass 
 through. Except Indian corn and grease, we depend entirely 
 on chance for everv thinff else. You cannot conceive how 
 pleasant this way of travelling is : it is a hunting or shooting 
 
*IS MEMOIRS OF 
 
 party the whole way. I find I can live very well on Indian 
 corn and grease : — it sounds bad, but it is not so : I eat noth- 
 ing else for four days comins; here. Few people know how 
 little is necessary to live. What is called and thought hard- 
 ship is nothing : one unhappy feeling is worse than a thousand 
 years of it. 
 
 " The Canadian engages here live on nothing but two hand- 
 fuls of corn and an ounce of grease per day, and work and 
 sing the whole day. It is very pleasant to travel with them. 
 They sing all day, and keep time with their paddles : their 
 lively, gay, sans souci French blood never leaves them : they 
 are the same in America as in France. This next part of the 
 journey will be, I think, the most interesting and agreeable I 
 have had yet, as the people I am going among live more in 
 their own way, and have less connexion with Europeans. It 
 will give a long story for Black Rock." 
 
 We have seen how sanguinely, throughout the greater part 
 of his journey, he still cherished the thought that, even yet, 
 the fond prayer of his heart might be granted, and the young 
 person he so tenderly loved become his own. But this dream 
 was, unfortunatelv, soon to have an end. At the be^'inning 
 of December, having descended the Missisippi, he arrived at 
 ISQW Orleans. It had been his wish to extend his journey 
 still further, and pay a visit to the Silver Mines of Spanish 
 America ; but, on applying to the proper authorities for per- 
 mission, it was, as we learn from his own letters,, refused to 
 him. His friends at home, indeed, had heard with consider- 
 able apprehension of his purposed visit to the Mines ; as, in 
 the event of a war, which seemed now inevitable, between 
 England and Spain, such a journey would be attended with 
 embarrassment, if not dano-er. The refusal, however, of the 
 Mexican governor to give him permission put a stop to his 
 design ; and he was now, therefore, on the wing for his be- 
 loved home, anticipating all the welcome and the happiness 
 which his own affection, he could not but feel, deserved. 
 
 It was at this very moment, — while so fondly persuading 
 himself that the fair object of his passion might, one day, be 
 his own, — he received intelligence that, in the month of April 
 preceding, she had become the wife of another. Such a shock, 
 to a heart buoyant as his, came but the heavier for the self- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 79 
 
 illusion he had been indulging ; and, had it not been for his 
 mother, whose existence, he knew, was locked up in his, it 
 may be doubted whether he would ever again have returned 
 to Eii'dand, 
 
 The two following letters to his brother Lord Robert (of 
 which I find copies among the papers in my possession) were 
 the last that he now wrote from America ; and the subdned tone 
 in which he here speaks on the subject nearest his heart, only 
 shows how deep and strong must have been the feeling that 
 required such an effort of self-control in the expression of it. 
 
 "Nueva Orleans, 7 Dec, 1789. 
 " QUERIDO ROBERTO, 
 
 " Te maravillarai mucho al recibir una carta mia, su fecha 
 en esta plaza. La dirixo por el Caho Frances, y yo pienso 
 salir de aqui alfin de Euero o principio de Febrero en un barco 
 que saldra directamente para Londres. Por el Corrco de la, 
 Eiiropa vio que eres verdaderamente Fhnijpo-Boh. Te felicito, 
 y me allegro por la satisfaccion que couosco te causa. Las 
 ultimas tuyas que he recebido son confechas en Abril. Ala 
 verdad no me dieron las noticias mas agradables ; pero me 
 conforme con llevar con paciencia las vicitudes humanas, pen- 
 sando en esto como uno verdaclero Philosopho, y ya no pienso 
 mas en ellas ; porque mi feliz temperamento no me permitte 
 pensar mucho tiempo en cosas desagradables. 
 
 " Di a nuestra amada madre que me mantengo siempre 
 bueno, y allegre, en excepcion de aquellos ratos (que son fre- 
 quentes) que se me presenta a la memoria. Di la que me he 
 applicado al estudio de la lingua Espanola, a fin de ahorrarme 
 de alguno modo la innutil pena de pensar continuamente in un 
 objeto cuya vesta separa tanta distancia y agua y tierra : 
 alguua vezes es mas forte que yo, y entonces so bueno para 
 nada. 
 
 " Celebro mucho saber el casamiento de Charlotte : y es- 
 pero que estara de vuelta antes que yo Uegue. Pudiera escri- 
 birte y decirte mas, pero como insenue arriba, quando pienso 
 en mi tierra y en alguno de vos otros, me lleno de melancolia, 
 y asi concliure mi carta. 
 
 " Manifesta a todos mi carinio, sin olvidar a mi amado 
 Henrico, se que esta enojado conmigo porque estoy ausente 
 tauto tiempo. Dentro quatro meses espero dar un abrazo a 
 
80 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 todos, Kecelo que estarais tu abseute : pero nosera poi 
 mucho shi verte. 
 
 " Adios, querido Kobcrto : soy todo a tu, 
 
 " E. Fitzgerald. 
 
 " Te escribiera mucho sobre c-sta pais, pero una carta Es- 
 pagnol es una obra deficil y niuy trabasera para mi." 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 "Xew Orleans, December Tth, 1789. 
 " DEAR ROBERT, 
 
 " You will be surprised at receiving a letter from me at 
 this place. I send it by the Cajp Frangois, and expect to 
 embark from hence myself about the end of January, or in 
 the beginning of February next, on board a vessel which is 
 bound directly to London. By the Courier de V Europe, I see 
 that you are now really Flenlpo-Boh. I congratulate you, and 
 rejoice in the satisfaction I know that gives you. Your last 
 letters which I have received were written in April. In truth 
 they did not bring me the most agreeable news, but I submit 
 witii patience to all human vicissitudes. 
 
 " Tell our much-loved mother that I am very well, and in 
 good spirits, excepting when those crosses which are frequent 
 with me present themselves to my thoughts. Tell her that I 
 have applied to the Spanish language, with a view to divert 
 my mind in some way or other from the unnecessary pain of 
 thinking constantly of an object, from the sight of whom so 
 great a distance both by sea and land divides me. The least 
 reflection overcomes me, and. then I am good for nothing. 
 
 " I rejoice to hear of Charlotte's marriage, and hope she 
 may be returned before I arrive. I could write to you and 
 tell you more ; but, as it constantly happens, when I think of 
 my own country and of any of you, I fill with melancholy, and 
 must tlicrefore conclude my letter. Present my love to all, 
 without forgetting my dear Henry, who is angry with me for 
 remaining so long absent. Within four months time I hope 
 to embrace you all. I grieve that you should be absent, but 
 it shall not l3e long before I shall see you likewise. 
 
 " Adieu, dear Robert : I am altogether yours, " E. F. 
 
 " I should have written much to you about this country, 
 but a letter in Spanish is a difficult and laborious undertaking 
 for me." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. ^81 
 
 " Xew Orleans, Dec. 26th, 1789. 
 ''* MY DEAREST BOB, 
 
 " I wrote to you a few da3's ago iu Spanish, and sent my 
 letter by the Havannah to Cadiz, from wlience it will be for- 
 warded to you by Mr. Duff, our consul there. This goes by 
 'Marseilles, and the longer will be a surer method of your 
 hearing. I have not been able to write home from hence, so 
 the first tidings they will get will be from you. I have been 
 occupying myself here learning Spanish, in hopes of getting 
 leave to go to the Havannah or Mexico ; but as the governor 
 here could not give leave himself, he wrote to ask it for me 
 and was refused, so that I must keep my Spanish for another 
 opportunity, 
 
 " You may guess my impatience to get home. I set off in 
 six weeks in a ship bound for London, so that very likely I 
 may be home before you receive this, I have seen some news- 
 papers which mention you as being at Paris. My last letters 
 were in May. I bore all the account of G * * tolerably 
 well. I must say with Cardenio, ' Lo que ha Ihantado siis 
 hermosura, han derrihada siis ohras. Por elli enfendi que era 
 angel, y por ellas conozco que era muger. Quede ella en paz, 
 el causado de mi guerra, y haga el Cielo, que ella no quede 
 arrepentida de lo que ha hechoj But this is enough on this 
 disagreealjle subject. 
 
 " I am now quite stout, and think of nothing but being a 
 good soldier. To be sure, if it was not for dearest mother, 
 I believe I should not return to England for some time, God, 
 how happy I shall be to see you all ! Dearest Robert, I can- 
 not express how I love you all. I know what I say appears 
 odd, but it is impossible to describe the sort of feeling I have. 
 
 " I should like to give you an account of my voyage, but it 
 would be too long : it has done me a great deal of good. I 
 have seen human nature under almost all its forms. Every 
 where it is the same, but the wilder it is the more virtuous. 
 These, however, will be fine arguments for us two, when we 
 meet, to talk on. Give my love to all, and do not forget 
 dear M® de * ^, who, upon cool consideration, is as charming 
 a creature as is in the world : in short, she is sincere, vv'hich is 
 a C|uality rather rare. 
 
 " The man that sends you this has a brother here, who has 
 been all goodness to me : he has begged me to mention his 
 
82 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 name to you : if ever you can be civil to him, do be so, 
 (thougli I think it will never come in your way). His name 
 is Segond Fils, negociant a Marseilles. I dare say he will 
 write you a letter with this. 
 
 " Good bye, dearest, dearest Bob. 
 
 " Yours, 
 "E. F. 
 " I really am afraid to write to mother, 1 have so much to 
 say." 
 
 On his arrival in London he was, by the merest accident, 
 spared the pain of a scene which could not fail to have been 
 distressing to others as well as himself. Impatient, as may be 
 supposed, to see his mother, who was then residing in London, 
 he hastened instantly to her house, and arrived there just as a 
 large party, among whom were the young bride * of the pre- 
 ceding April and her lord, had seated themselves to dinner. 
 In a second or two, the unexpected visitor would have been 
 among them, had not General Fox, who was one of the 
 guests, and recognized Lord Edward's voice, hastened out to 
 stop him, and thus prevented an encounter which would have 
 been embarrassing to all parties. 
 
 In taking leave of this interesting passage of his lordship's 
 short life, it is not without some pain that the reflection sug- 
 gests itself, how ditierent might have been his doom, both in 
 life and death, had this suit, in which he so sanguinely perse- 
 vered, been successful ; nor can I help adding, that the exem- 
 plary domestic virtues, which have, through life, distinguished 
 the noble lady he thus loved, while they exalt our opinion of 
 the man who could, thus early, appreciate such excellence, 
 but deepen ten-fold our sympathy with the pain he must have 
 felt in losing her. 
 
 In active professional employment would now have been his 
 only safeguard, both against vain regrets for the past, and too 
 sanguine aspirations after the future ; and there was a pros- 
 pect, immediately on his return to England, of employment, 
 such as he himself could have most wished, being found for 
 him. The threatening armaments of Spain at this moment 
 called for corresponding efforts on the part of Great Britain ; 
 
 * Supposed to be the daughter of Lord Holland. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 83 
 
 and, among other measures of offence, an expedition against 
 Cadiz was contemplated. One of Lord Edward's first visits, 
 on his arrival, was to his uncle, the Dake of Richmond, and 
 the information which it had been in his power to collect, 
 respecting the state of the Spanish colonies in America, v/as, 
 of course, listened to by the minister with peculiar interest. 
 Finding, also, that his nephew, during the journey he took 
 through Spain, in 1788, had turned his time to account, and, 
 besides those general military observations which his " tech- 
 nical eye" as a soldier enabled him to make, had taken an 
 opportunity, while at Cadiz, of drawing plans of the fortifica- 
 tions of that city, his grace invited him to meet Mr. Pitt and 
 Mr. Dundas that evening ; and these ministers, having them- 
 selves questioned the young officer on the same subjects, offered 
 immediately, as I have been informed, to promote him by 
 brevet, and give him the command of the expedition intended 
 against Cadiz. This Lord Edward readily accepted, and the 
 duke, at parting, told him that he should, on the following 
 day, report what had been agreed upon to the king, and 
 hoped he might also add, that his nephew was no longer 
 in opposition. Free, as he then supposed himself, from the 
 responsibility which a seat in parliament imposed. Lord Ed- 
 ward answered that it was his determination for the future to 
 devote himself exclusively to his profession ; and he could 
 therefore, without any difficulty, promise not to appear in 
 opposition to the government. 
 
 On seeing his mother, however, the following day, his lord- 
 ship was, for the first time, informed that, notwithstanding 
 her grace's earnest remonstrances, his brother, the Duke of 
 Leinster, had, before his arrival, returned him lor the county 
 of Kildare. Finding his position thus altered, he lost no time 
 in apprizing the Duke of Richmond, who, on learning the new 
 views of the subject which this discovery had occasioned, 
 expressed strong displeasure against his nephew, and accused 
 him of breaking his word with the king ; adding, at the same 
 time, that neither this proffered appointment, nor any other 
 favour from ministers was to be expected by him, if he did 
 not detach himself from the opposition and give his vote to 
 government. This Lord Edward, it is hardly necessary to 
 say, promptly refused, and the two relatives parted, with a 
 degree of anger on the part of the uncle, which is sua- 
 
8^ MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pected, but, I should thiuk, unjustly, to have had some 
 share m the harsh measure taken subsequently, of dismissing 
 Lord Edward, without even the forms of inquiry, from the 
 army. 
 
 Thus disappointed of an employment which would have 
 been so gratifying- at once to his ambition and his tastes, he 
 had now no other resources for the diversion of his thoudits 
 than such as his parliamentary duties in Ireland, and the 
 society of a few favourite friends in London afforded him. 
 This want of any absorbing pursuits or interests of his own 
 left him free to extend his sympathies to the concerns of 
 others ; and, being neither pledged to a certain set of opinions 
 by virtue of any office, nor under that fear of change which 
 high station and wealth engender, he could now give way 
 without reserve to his judgment and feelings, and take part 
 loith the oppressed against the oppressor to the full length 
 that his own natural sense of justice and benevolence dic- 
 tated. 
 
 Left thus open to the influence of all that was passing 
 around him, it may be conceived that the great events now in 
 progress in France could have appealed to few hearts more 
 thoroughly prepared, both by nature and position, to go along 
 with their movement. In the society, too, which he now 
 chiefly cultivated, — that of Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and their 
 many distinguished friends, — he found those political princi- 
 ples, to which he now, for the first time, gave any serious 
 attention, recommended at once to his reason and imagination 
 by all the splendid sanctions with which genius, wit, eloquence, 
 and the most refined good-fellowship could invest them. 
 i>either was it to be expected, while thus imbibing the full 
 spirit of the new doctrines, that he would attend much to 
 those constitutional guards and conditions with which tiie 
 Whig patriots, at that time, fenced round even their boldest 
 opinions, — partly from a long-transmitted reverence for the 
 forms of the constitution, and partly, also, from a prospective 
 view to their own attainment of power, and to the great 
 inconvenience of being encumbered, on entering into office, by 
 opinions which it might not only be their interest, but their 
 dutv, to retract. 
 
 From both these wholesome restraints, on political ardour, 
 Lord Edward was free ; having derived, it may be supposed, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 85 
 
 from his Irish education in politics but a small portion of 
 respect for the English constitution, and being by nature too 
 little selfish, even had he any ulterior interests, to let a thought 
 of them stand in the way of the present generous impulse. 
 At a later period, indeed, it is well known that even Mr. Fox 
 himself, impatient at the hopelessness of all his efforts to rid 
 England, by any ordinary means, of a despotism which aristo- 
 cratic alarm had brought upon her, found himself driven, in 
 his despair of Reform, so near that edge where Revolution 
 begins, that had there existed, at that time, in England any 
 thing Uke the same prevalent sympathy with the new doctrines 
 of democracy as responded throughout Ireland, there is no 
 saying how far short of the daring aims of Lord Edward even 
 this great constitutional Whig leader might, in the warmth of 
 his generous zeal, have ventured. 
 
 These remarks, however, as regards both Mr. Fox and Lord 
 Edward, apply to a later period, by some years, than that at 
 which we are now arrived, — the French revolution not having 
 yet fully developed either its might or its mischief, nor diffus- 
 ed that feverish excitement among the middle and lower classes 
 of the community which rendered them objects of alarm and, 
 at last, coercion with the higher. It was not, indeed, till Lord 
 Edward's visit to France in 1792 that he appears to have es- 
 poused zealously and decidedly those republican principles upon 
 which, during the short remainder of his life, he acted with 
 but a too fearless consistency. The interval previous to that 
 time he passed chiefly under the same roof with his mother 
 and sisters ; and it is for this reason that there remain to us 
 but few letters througli which, for these two years, we are able 
 to track the details of his life. 
 
 At the beginning of 1791 we find him attending the House 
 of Commons in Dublin, but most heartily weary of the society 
 he was living with, and wishino- himself in London, whither 
 all his desires now called him, — not only from the delight he 
 always felt in the converse of his own family, but from certain 
 other less legitimate attractions on which it is not necessary 
 to dwell, but to which his extreme readiness to love, and his 
 power of making himself beloved in return, rendered him con- 
 stantly liable. Seldom, indeed, has any one possessed, to such 
 an engaging degree, that combination of manly ardour with 
 gentleness whicli is so vrinning to most female minds. 
 
86 MEMOIRS or 
 
 " Dublin," he says, in one of his letters at this time, " has 
 been very lively this last week, and promises as much for the 
 next ; but I think it is all the same thing, — La D "^ * , La 
 S * * , and a few young competitors for their j)laces. I have 
 been a great deal with these two. They want to console me 
 for London ; but it won't do, though I own they are very 
 pleasant. Henry and I have been living at Leinster House 
 quite alone. We generally ride to Black Rock. — I hate going 
 by the gate. I won't say any thing of it for fear of tempting 
 you, but the passage is in high beauty. I meant to have gone 
 and slept there to-night, but was kept too late at the levy, so 
 must \)\xt it off to another time. I have dined by myself, and 
 intended giving up the evening to writing to you, but have 
 had such a pressing invitation from Mrs. "*' * to sup that I 
 cannot refuse, I hope it is to make up a quarrel which she 
 began the other night, because I said I thought she was cold. 
 I find it is the worst thiuu; one can sav of a Dublin woman : — 
 you cannot conceive what an aifront it is reckoned." 
 
 At the latter end of 1792, that momentous crisis, when 
 France, standing forth on the ruins of her monarchy, pro- 
 claimed herself a Republic, and hurled fierce defiance against 
 the thrones of the world, — Lord Edward, unwilling to lose 
 such a spectacle of moral and political excitement, hastened 
 over to Paris, without communicatino: his intentions even to 
 the duchess, who had, but a short time previously received 
 from him the followin": leiter : — • 
 
 c 
 
 "dearest mother. 
 
 "London, October, 1792. 
 
 " I know you will be glad to make out, through mistakes, 
 words left out, false spelling, bad English, &c. that I am al- 
 most quite well. I have been in town since Saturday. I re- 
 turn to Boyle Farm again to-morrow. I spent a delightful 
 w^eek. Dear Harry, as usual, charming ; — he is perfect. I 
 dined with Charles Fox, Saturday, on coming to town ;— he 
 was quite right about all the good French news. Is it not 
 delightful ? It is really shameful to see how much it has 
 affected all our aristocrats. I think one may fairly say the 
 Duke of Brunswick and his Germans are bedeviled. The joke, 
 in the Argus of the invincible cavalry of Prussia being totally 
 mt up by their infantry, is not a bad one. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. St 
 
 " I begin to feel a little for the emigrants, though I am 
 sure they deserve none ; but they have so completely ruined 
 their cause that I believe they will lose every thing. " Some, I 
 am sure, thought they were acting right and honouraUji ; and 
 these, though one is surprised and angry at their errors, one 
 cannot help pitying, How glad I am * * has remained in 
 France. Poor Antoine, I cannot say how I feel for him, for 
 he certainly thought he was doing right." 
 
 From the letter that soon after followed it will be seen that 
 had liis Lordship been a more backward pupil in the new doc- 
 trines of democracy than, unluckily for himself, he proved to 
 be, it would not have been for want of an able and daring 
 preceptor. 
 
 " Paris, Tuesday, October 80th. 
 " 1st Year of the RepubHc, 1792. 
 
 "dearest mother, 
 
 " I know you will be surprised to hear from me here, — do 
 not be uneasy. This town is as quiet as possible, and for me 
 a most interesting scene. I would not have missed seeing it 
 at this period for any thing. I stopped a day at Boulogne 
 with the dear * * , and you may guess how glad I was to'see 
 her. I told her not to tell you I was here, as" I did not intend 
 to let you know it ; but upon consideration, I think it better 
 you should. I arrived last Friday. 
 
 " I lodge with my friend Paine, — we breakfast, dine, and 
 sup together. The more I see of his interior, the more I like 
 and respect him. I cannot express how kind he is to me ; 
 there is a simplicity of manner, a goodness of heart, and a 
 strength of mind in him, that I never knew a man before pos- 
 sess. I pass my time very pleasantly, read, Avalk, and go 
 quietly to the play. I have not been to see any one, nor shall 
 not. I often want you, dearest mother, but I should not have 
 been able to bear Tunbridge for any time. The present scene 
 occupies my thoughts a great deal, and dissipates unpleasant 
 feelings very much. 
 
 " Give my love to Ogilvie and the girls. I think he would 
 be much entertained and interested if he was here. I can 
 compare it to nothing but Pvome in its days of conquest : — 
 the energj' of the people is beyond belief. There is no news 
 
88 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that the Mornmg Chronicle does not tell you, so I won't re- 
 peat. I go a great deal to the Assembly ; — they improve 
 much in speaking. 
 
 " God bless you, dearest mother. Believe me 
 
 " Your affectionate, &c. 
 " Let me know if I can do any thing for you here. 
 Direct — 
 
 Le citoycn Edouard Fitzgerald, 
 Hotel de White, aw Passage des Pet its, 
 jp?'es dw Palais Koyal." 
 
 From a disposition so ardent and fearless, discretion was 
 the last virtue to be expected ; and his friends, therefore, 
 whatever alarm or regret it might cause them, could hardly 
 have felt much surprise when the announcement that follows 
 made its appearance in the papers of Paris and London : 
 
 Paris, Nov. lOtli. 
 
 " Yesterday the English arrived in Paris assembled at 
 White's Hotel, to celebrate the triumph of victories gained 
 over their late invaders by the armies of France. Though 
 the festival was intended to be purely British, the meeting was 
 attended by citizens of various countries, by deputies of the 
 Convention, by generals, and other officers of the armies then 
 stationed or visiting Paris, — J, H. Stone in the chair. 
 
 " Among the toasts were, ' The armies of France : may 
 the example of its citizen soldiers be followed by all enslaved 
 countries, till tyrants and tyranny be extinct :' 
 
 " An address proposed to the National Convention. — Among 
 several toasts proposed by the citizens, Sir R. Smith and Lord 
 E. Fitzgerald, was the following : ' May the patriotic airs of 
 the German Legion (Ca Ira, the Carmagnole, Marseillaise 
 March, &c.) soon ])ecome the favourite music of every army, 
 and may the soldier and the citizen join in the chorus.' 
 
 " General Dillon proposed ' The people of Ireland ; and 
 may government profit by the example of France, and Reform 
 prevent Revolution.' 
 
 " Sir Robert Smith and Lord E. Fitzgerald renounced their 
 titles ; and a toast proposed by the former was drank : — ' The 
 speedy abolition of all hereditary titles and feudal distinctions.' " 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 89 
 
 "Paris, 1792. 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 '-^ I got your dear letter yesterday. You were quite right 
 about my joy at the taking of Mons, and the success of the 
 battle of Jemappe. I was in the house when the news came, 
 and saw Baptiste received : it was an animating scene, — as 
 indeed every thing that passes here now is. You who know 
 the French mav conceive it. I am deHorhted with the manner 
 they feel their success : no foolish boasting or arrogance at 
 it ; — ^but imputing all to the greatness and goodness of their 
 cause, and seeming to rejoice more on account of its effects 
 on Europe in general than for their own individual glory. 
 This, indeed, is the turn every idea here seems to take : all 
 their pamphlets, all their pieces, all their songs, extol their 
 achievements but as the effect of the principle they are con- 
 tending for, and rejoice at their success as the triumph of 
 humanity. All the defeats of their enemies they impute to 
 their disgust at the cause for which they fight. In the coffee- 
 houses and play-houses, every man calls the other camarade, 
 frere, and with a stranger immediately begins, * Ah ! nous 
 sommes tous freres, toug horames, nos victoires sont pour vous, 
 pour tout le monde ;' and the same sentiments are always 
 received with peals of applause. In short, all the good enthu- 
 siastic French sentiments seem to come out ; while, to all 
 appearance, one would say, they had lost all their bad. The 
 town is quiet, and to judge from the theatres and public walks, 
 very full. The great difference seems in the few carriages, 
 and the dress, which is very plain. 
 
 " I am glad Ogiivie warms up a little. I knew he would. 
 I am sure you enjoy the success, for you and I always had a 
 proper liking for the true French character. Dear "^ * is 
 here. I see a great deal of her ; she is as pleasant as ever ; 
 — that same good heart and delightful manner. How she 
 dotes on you ! but what I admire is the manner she bears the 
 change of circumstances, — with a good sense and philosophy 
 bej'ond description, even as you yourself would do. From her 
 i£3000 she has got £1000 a year, and not quite that. She 
 goes in her hackney coach, or walks to her friends and her 
 soirees, crottee jitsqii'au cou, with the same cheerfulness as 
 ever ; and is just the same, with her one servant and maid, 
 and little dinner of soup and bouillie, as when M®. la Mar- 
 
90 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 quise, with two granrh lac.quais. Indeed, if it were not for 
 her children, I ratlier think she Ukes it better. You would 
 admh'e her were you to see her, and would understand all her 
 feeling's. 
 
 " Ted Og'ilvie I shall leave this next week, and settle my 
 majority, it" I am not scratched out of the army. General 
 E^'alite is the son of Orleans. I dine to-day with Madame 
 S.liery. God bless you, dearest mother. I am obliged to 
 leave you. Love to the girls. 
 
 " I long to see you, and shall be with you the beginning of 
 the v/eek after next. I cannot be long from you. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "E. F. 
 
 " In the midst of ray patriotism and projects, you are 
 always the first thing in my heart, and ever must be, my dear, 
 dear mother." 
 
 The simple sentence in this letter, " I dine to-day with 
 Madame de Slllery," is far more pregnant with events and 
 feelings interesting to the writer than from the short and care- 
 less manner in which it is here introduced could be suspected. 
 Madame de Sillery (the celebrated Comtesse de Genlis) had, 
 but a day or two before the date of this letter, returned from 
 !Kngland, where, accompanied by her pupil Mademoiselle d'- 
 'Orleans, and her adopted daughter Pamela,* she had been, 
 for the last twelve or thirteen months, living in retirement. 
 The only interruption to this privacy was during the few 
 weeks passed by her under the roof of Mr. Sheridan, at Isle- 
 
 * Lord Edward was the only one amonjr numerous suitors of Mrs. 
 Sheridan, to whom she is supposed to have Ustened Aviili anything like 
 a return of feeling, and that there should be mutual admiration be- 
 tween two such noble specimens of liuman nature, it is easy, without 
 injury to either of them, to believe, some months bef<ire her death, 
 ■when Sheridan had been describing to her and Lord Edward, a b<\'iu- 
 tifvd French girl whom he had lately seen, and added, tliat slie put him 
 strongly in mind of what his own wife had been in the first bloom of 
 her youth and beauty. Mrs. Sheridan turned to Lord Edward and 
 »5aid \vith a melancholy smile. " I should like you when I am dead, to 
 marry that girl." This was Paniela, whom Sheridan had just seen du- 
 ring his visit of a few hours to ^ladame de Geiilis at Bury in Suflolk, 
 and whom Lord Edward married in about a year after. — Jloores Life 
 of Sheridan. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD." 91 
 
 worth, during which time Lord Edward was, more than once, 
 afforded an opportunity of meeting her, but from a horror of 
 learned ladies, — not peculiar, as it would appear l»y this 
 instauLe, to poets, — always declined that honour. Tiiough 
 his imagination, therefore, had been sufficiently prepared by 
 the descriptions wiiich he iiad lieard of tlie young Pamela, to 
 find much in her that would excite both his interest and ad- 
 miration, he had never, till the time of his present visit to 
 Paris, seen her. 
 
 It could hardly have been more than an evening or two 
 before the date of the above letter, tiiat, being at one of the 
 theatres of Paris, he saw, through a loge grilLie near him, a 
 face with which he was exceedingly struck, as well from its 
 own peculiar beauty, as from the strong likeness the features 
 bore to those of a lady, then some months dead, for whom he 
 was known to have entertained a very affectionate regard. 
 On inquiring who the young person was that had thus riveted 
 his attention, he found it was no other than the very Pamela, 
 of whose beauty he had heard so much — the adopted, or (as 
 may now be said without scruple) actual daughter of Madame 
 de Genlis by the Duke of Orleans.=^ Instantly, all his pre- 
 possessions against the learned mother vanished ; an acquaint- 
 ance, from that very night,"}* I believe, commenced between 
 them, and he was seldom after seen absent from the fair 
 Pamela's side. 
 
 In some natures, love is a fruit that ripens quickly ; and 
 that such was its growth in Lord Edward's warm heart tlie 
 whole history of his life fully testifies. In the present mstauce, 
 
 * In making this statement, I but followed what lias long been the 
 general impression on the subject. Since the first edition of this work 
 however, 1 have been honoured with a communication from a source 
 worthy of ci-edence, in which it is positively denied that any such re- 
 lalioiiship between Lad}' Edward and the late Duke of Orleans exist- 
 ed. The Duke himself it appears in speaking on the subject to his own 
 family, always confirmed the account which ^ladame de Genlis invari- 
 ably gave both of the parentage of the young Pamela, and of her own 
 r adoption of her. 
 
 \ This account of his lordship'.? first meeting with Pamela, I receiv- 
 ed from persons most likely to know all that most intimately concern- 
 ed him. — From another source however, of nearly equal authority, I 
 have been since assured that it was at the Rai.icy he first met her. 
 Such is the difficulty of arriving at truth in these minor points of de- 
 tail. 
 
92 
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 where there was so much to interest and attract on both sides, 
 a liking felt by either could not fail to become reciprocal. 
 The perfect disinterestedness, too, of the young soldier threw, 
 at once, out of consideration a difficulty tbat might have 
 checked more worldly suitors ; and, in somewhat less than a 
 month after their meeting at Paris, Mademoiselle Sims (the 
 name by which Madame de Genlis had chosen to designate 
 her daughter) became Lady Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 The marriage took place at Tournay, — Madame de Genlis 
 having consented so far to resume the charge of her illustrious 
 pupil, Mademoiselle -d'Orleans, as to place her in safety beyond 
 the borders of France"^, — and the following is the lady's own 
 account of the event : — 
 
 " Nous arrivames a Tournay dans les premiers jours de 
 Dacembre de cette meme annee, 1792. Trois semaines apres 
 j'eus le bonheur de marier ma fille d'adoption, I'angelique 
 Pamela, a Lord Edouard Fitzgerald. Au milieu de tant 
 d'infortunes et d'injustices, le ciel voulut recompeuser par cet 
 heureux evenemeut la meilleure action de ma vie, celle d'avoir 
 protege I'innocence sans appui, d'avoir eleve, adopte Tenfant 
 incomparable que la Providence jettoit dans mes bras, enfin 
 d'avoir develope son esprit, sa raison, et les vertus qui la 
 rendent aujourd'hui le modele des epouses et des meres de 
 son age.""!" 
 
 M. de Ciiartres, the present King of France, was one of 
 the witnesses of the ceremony ; and as the marriage contains 
 names which are, in their several ways, sure to live in history, 
 the reader may not be displeased to see an extract or two 
 from it here : — * 
 
 " A tons ceux, &c. &c, s^avoir faisons que pardevant maitre 
 Ferdinand Joseph Dorez, notaire repnblicain de la residence 
 de Tournay en Flandre, en presence des citoiens Louis Philippe 
 Egalite, et Silvestre Mirys, de presents au dit Tournay, et 
 temoins requis, sont comparus Edonard Fitzgerald, age de 
 vingt-neuf ans environ, demeurant ordinairement a Dublin, en 
 
 * Almost immediately after, Belgium was incorporated with France. 
 f Precis de la conduite de Madame de Gonlia depuis la Revolution. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 93 
 
 Irelande, natif a White Hall, a Londres, fils de James Fitz- 
 gerald, Due de Leiiister, et de Dame Amelie Lennox Duchesse 
 de Leinster, d'une part. 
 
 " Cito enne Ann Caroline Stephanie Sims, agee de dix-neuf 
 ans environ, demeurante a Paris, connue en France sous le 
 nomme de Pamela, native de Fogo dans I'lsle de Terre-neuve ; 
 fille de Guillaume de Brixey et de Mary Sims, assistees de la 
 cito;enne Stephanie Felicite Ducrest Brulart Sillery, connue 
 en dix-sept cent quatre-vingt-six sous le nom Comtesse de 
 Genlis, autorisee par les deux depositions passees pardevant 
 honorable Guillaume Comte de Mansfield, pair du royaume, 
 et grand justicier d'Angleterre, toutes deux en date du vingt- 
 cinq Janvier, dix-sept cent quatre-vingt-six, d'autre part." 
 
 One of the stipulations is as follows : — • 
 
 " Stipule qu'en cas de separation les biens, meubles et 
 immeubles, acquis et patrimoniaux aux dits futurs epoux, 
 qu'ils possederont lors de cette separation, seront partages 
 entre eux par moitie ; a I'exception neanmoins d'une rente 
 viagere de six mille livres de France annuellement, appartennat 
 a la future epouse, qui n'entrera point dans le partage ; mais 
 au contraire appartiendra en totalite a la dite future epouse, 
 ainsi qu'une autre rente viagere de douze cens livres. 
 
 ^s 5|S *(• 't* *(* 'i^ 
 
 ' " Etoient signes a la minute originale des presentes lettres, 
 Edouard Fitzgerald, Pamela Sims, le Lieutenant-General 
 Jacques Omoran, Stephanie Felicite Ducrest Sillery Brulart, 
 Adele Eugene Egalite, Hermine Compton, Philippe Egalite, 
 Pulcherie Valence, Henriette Screey, Cesar Ducrest, L. 
 Philippe Egalite, Silvestre Mirys, et C. J. Dorez, uotaire." 
 
 In the mean time, while the marriage was thus in progress, 
 the publicity given by the journals of both countries to the 
 details of the English Festival, held lately at Paris, had pro- 
 duced the consequences which Lord Edward himself had, in 
 a great measure, anticipated. Without any further inquiry, 
 and, so far, no doubt, unjustly and oppressively, his lordship, 
 together with two or three other officers, who had offended in 
 the same manner, was dismissed from the armv. To this 
 treatment of his noble relative, Mr. Fox (in speaking on a 
 
94 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 motion * of the Secretary of War for the employment of in- 
 valids, &c.) thus took occasion to advert : — 
 
 " While upon the subject of military, he deemed it a fit 
 opportunity to take notice of some occurrences which had 
 taken place, but which he could not know the particulars of 
 but from report. He alluded to certain dismissals which had 
 been made in the army, as those of Lord Semple, Lord Ed- 
 ward Fitzgerald, and also Captain Gawler. That there might 
 be good grounds for these dismissals was possible, but they 
 were unknown because they were undeclared ; one only ground 
 was suggested by the public voice, namely, their having sub- 
 scribed to the fund raised for the purpose of enabling the 
 
 French to carrv on the war against their invaders 
 
 One of these officers. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, was 
 
 his near relation, and of him he would say, from his personal 
 knowledge, that the service did not possess a more zealous, 
 meritorious, or promising member ; — he had served his coun- 
 try in actual service, and bled in its service." 
 
 On the 2d of January, 1793, Lord Edward, with his young 
 bride, arrived in London. He had written to ask his mother's 
 consent to the marriage ; but whether his impatience had 
 allowed him to wait for her answer appears somewhat doubt- 
 ful. It is, indeed, most probable that the letter to which the 
 following note alludes w^as the first notification he ever receiv- 
 ed of her prompt, and, as ever, indulgent sanction. 
 
 "dearest mother. 
 
 " "Wednesday, 2d January, 1793. 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times for your letter ; you never 
 obliged me so much, or made me so happy. I cannot tell you 
 how strongly my little wife feels it : she has sent your letter 
 to ]\r\ Silleri, whom I knew it would delight. She is to be 
 pitied, for she dotes on Pamela, who returns it most sincerely. 
 What she feels is the only drawback on my happiness. You 
 must love her, — she wants to be loved. 
 
 " We shall dine with you the day after to-morrow. We 
 shall not be able to get from the Customhouse time enough to 
 
 * December 21st, 1792. 
 
J 
 
 LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. j ■ ■ 9^ \^ 
 
 IT' ■ 
 
 see you to-morrow. Love to all. Tell Ogilvie how rducli I 
 am oblio'ed to him. Yours, dearest mothoi' 
 
 After remaining about three weeks with 
 Leinster, the nevf-married couple proceeded to DITI _ 
 
 the Session of Parliament had commenced on the 10th of 
 January ; and, in an Irish newspaper, dated the 26th of this 
 month, I find their arrival thus announced : " Yesterday morn- 
 ins:, arrived the Princess Royal, Captain Browne, from 
 Parko-ate, with the Rio'ht Hon. Lord Edward Fitz2,'erald, his 
 lady and suite, and several other persons of quality." 
 
 In order to convey to my readers any clear idea of the sort 
 of political atmosphere into -which Lord Edward, — himself 
 more than sufficiently excited, — now plunged at once on his 
 return to Dublin, it will l^e necessary to recall briefly to their 
 recollection the historv of Irish affairs for the last fourteen or 
 fifteen years preceding ; — and a few dates and facts, requiring 
 but little comment, will bring more vividly, and, as it were, 
 bodily, before their eyes, the state of Ireland at this moment, 
 than any description that eloquence, however forcible, could 
 give it. 
 
 In the year 1776, the people of Ireland first learned the 
 dangerous lesson, that to the fears, rather than the justice, of 
 their rulers, thev must thenceforward look for either riirht or 
 favour. In the summer of that year, America proclaimed her 
 independence, and in the course of the autumn the first link 
 was struck from the chain of the Catholic : the law then al- 
 lowing him to acquire an interest in the soil, which he had 
 hitherto trod but bv sufferance, as a serf. Small as was the 
 seed of liberty thus sown, all that Ireland has since gained 
 may be considered as its fruits. In a year or two after, the 
 cause of American independence was espoused openly by the 
 courts of France and Spain. The resources of England were 
 reduced to the lowest ebb, and the fleets of the enemy menac- 
 ed the British shores. In this predicament, the town of Bel- 
 fast, which had been invaded by the French eighteen years 
 before, applied to government for protection, and received 
 the memorai)le answer, " We have not the means ; — vou must 
 defend vourselves." Never was an avowal of feebleness, on 
 the part of a government, responded to by a more noble or 
 
96 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 generous manifestation of strength on the part of the people. 
 Instantly an immense army of volunteers sprung up, as if by 
 enchantment, through the country. The sympathies of all, — • 
 even of the outcast Catholic, — rallied round the patriotic 
 standard ; and could Ireland then have claimed the services 
 of all her sons, she would have exhibited to the eyes of the 
 world, at this magnificent moment, that only true fortress of 
 freedom, an armed people. As it was, in less than a year 
 from their first formation, the volunteer force amounted to 
 80,000 men ; the hour of England's weakness was found to 
 be that of Ireland's strength ; and in this attitude, as formi- 
 dable to her rulers as to the enemy, she demanded and obtain- 
 ed from England a free trade and independent legislature. 
 
 Such a spirit, once evoked, was not easily to be laid. Hav- 
 ing secured the independence of their parliament, the next 
 task of these armed patriots was to effect its reform ; and, 
 accordingly, in the year 1783, a Convention of this body 
 assembled in Dublin, holding their deliberations on Reform, 
 even during the sitting of parliament, and assuming powers 
 and functions co-ordinate with those of the two acting branches 
 of the legislature. How far this military intervention might 
 have ventured to proceed, had it not been guided by a leader 
 so temperate, and, at the same time, so popular as Lord Char- 
 lemont, it is impossible to say ; but that a collision was on the 
 point of taking place between these armed deliberators and 
 the legislative councils of the nation must be evident to every 
 reader of the history of that crisis. It is, indeed, now well 
 known, that there was, at that moment, in full equipment, at 
 Belfast, a train of artillery, with a considerable supply of am- 
 munition, and a large corps of volunteers, ready to march to 
 the aid of the Convention, if necessary. 
 
 Formidable, however, as this body appeared in numbers and 
 spirit, it was yet but a very small portion of the Irish nation, 
 and had even precluded itself from the sympathies it might 
 have commanded from the great bulk of the people by reject- 
 ing, more than once, a proposition laid before it for the exten- 
 sion of the elective franchise to Catholics. Against such an 
 assembly, therefore, so little backed by the collective sense 
 of the nation, it is not wonderful that the governing party 
 should feel itself sufficiently strong to assume, at once, a high 
 tone of determination and resistance. A motion for Reform, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 97 
 
 upon a plan previously agreed on in the Convention, having 
 been brought before the House of Commons by Mr. Flood, — 
 himself dressed in the volunteer uniform, and surrounded by 
 other members, some of them Delegates, in the same military 
 array, — after a long and stormy debate, maintained, on both 
 sides, with a spirit of defiance which an eye-witness of the 
 scene describes as " almost terrific," the rejection of the mea- 
 sure was carried by a majority of 159 to 77, and a lesson of 
 national union thus inculcated upon Irishmen, of which, through 
 the eventful years that followed, they were not slow in profit- 
 ing. 
 
 Already, indeed, had there appeared symptoms of friendly 
 approximation among those sects into which the people of 
 Ireland arc even more politically than religiously divided, and 
 from whose disunion all the misery of their common country 
 springs. Among the Protestant voices of the senate, some 
 already had pleaded eloquently for the Catholic. A bishop 
 of the established church '^', — one hardly, however, to be cited 
 as a churchman, — had said, in addressing the volunteers on 
 this now novel subject, " Tyranny is not government, and 
 allegiance is due only to protection." The Presbyterians, too, 
 of the north, the last, it might be supposed, this new light 
 could reach, were, on the contrary, the first and promptest to 
 sacrifice all sectarian prejudices on the wide national altar of 
 union and freedom. The volunteers of Belfast had given in- 
 structions to their delegates in the Convention to support, as 
 one of the essential ingredients of Reform, the free admission 
 of Catholics to all the rights of freemen ; and, among the 
 circumstances indicative of the growing temper of the times, 
 it could not fail to be observed, that the able Catholic divine, 
 O'Leary, on entering the doors of the military Congress, was 
 received with a full salute of rested arms by the volunteers. 
 
 Hitherto, however, this new feeling of liberality had been 
 confined, comparatively, but to a few, and even in them, not- 
 withstanding the increased heat of the political temperature 
 of the times, was, as yet, but imperfectly ripened. If civil 
 and religious liberty are, as they have been sometimes de- 
 scribed, twins, it is lamental)le to observe how much more 
 tardy and stunted is, in most cases, the growth of the latter 
 
 * The Bisliop of Derr}-. 
 
98 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 than of the former. It was not till convmced of their own 
 weakness by the failure of this great effort for Reform, that 
 the attention of the Whigs and other more daring speculators 
 in polities was turned seriously and sincerely to those disquali- 
 fying statutes which had robbed their cause of the great 
 momentum of the general mind, and left them a powerless 
 colony in the midst of a disfranchised nation. From this 
 moment, Catholic Freedom went hand in hand, in all their 
 projects, with Reform ; and the same Dissenters who had 
 formed the flower of the civic army in 1782, were now the 
 foremost to seek, in a cordial reconcilement of all sects, a 
 more extended and national basis for their patriotism. 
 
 This growing coalition between the Catholics and the Dis- 
 senters, to which the one party brought intelligence and 
 republican spirit, and the other deep-rooted discontent and 
 numerical force, had for its chief cement a feeUng, common to 
 both, of impatience under the exactions of the established 
 church ; and a demonstration, among many others, of their 
 joint aims against this vulnerable point, occurred in the year 
 1787, when the celebrated Father O'Leary, already men- 
 tioned, found himself seconded by Dr. Campbell, and other 
 Presbvterian ministers, in his well-kuown and amusing contro- 
 versy with the Bishop of Cloyne. 
 
 Still, however, their mutual tie was but slight and distant ; 
 nor was it till the astounding burst of the French revolution 
 had scattered hopes and fears of change through all nations, 
 that their alliance began to assume any very decisive or 
 formidable consistency. In the mean time, the government, 
 with that infatuation which attends all governments so situ- 
 ated, had, in proportion as the people took bolder views of 
 the responsibility of the trust committed to their rulers, gone 
 on abusing that trust by such a system of corruption as, for 
 its waste and shamelessness, defies all parallel. As far as 
 openness, indeed, may be thought to take away from the 
 danger or ignominy of such traffic, neither in the buyer or 
 the bought was there any want of this quality in the Irish 
 market ; and the well-known threat, or rather lure, held out 
 by Lord Clare* to a refractory opposition, is worth volumes 
 in pourtrayiug the spirit both of his own times and those 
 
 * When Attorney-General. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 99 
 
 that preceded them. " Half a million," he said, " or more, 
 had been expended, some years before, to break an Op- 
 position ; and the same, or a greater sum, might be necessary 
 now." 
 
 It was in speaking of that period, — the portion of it, at 
 least, between 1784 and 1790, — that Mr. Grattan made use 
 of the following strong language : " You have no adequate 
 responsibility in Ireland, and politicians laugh at the sword of 
 ■justice, which falls short of their heads, and only precipitates 
 
 on their reputation and yet in this country we 
 
 have had victims ; the aristocracy has, at different times, 
 been a victim ; the whole people of Ireland, for almost an 
 entire century, were a victim ; but ministers, in all their 
 criminal succession, — here is a chasm, a blank in your his- 
 tory. Sir, you have in Ireland no axe, — therefore, no good 
 minister." 
 
 The part taken by the Irish parliament on the question of 
 the Regency, in 1789, had consequences, both immediate and 
 remote, of the most signal importance to Ireland, One of 
 the first effects of the new division of parties which then took 
 place was to throw an immense accession of strength into the 
 ranks of the Opposition ; and this reinforcement of the popu- 
 lar cause accruing just at the moment when the example of 
 the French Revolution was beginning to agitate all minds, 
 formed such a concurrence of exciting causes, at the beginning 
 of the year 1790, as diffused the ruffle of an approaching 
 storm over the whole face of society. Words, spoken in high 
 places, fall with even more than their due weight on the pubhc 
 ear ; and the language of the parliamentary orators at this 
 period lost none of its impression from the million of echoes 
 that, out of doors, repeated it. 
 
 " Do you imagine," said Mr. Grattan, " that the laws of 
 this country can retain due authoritv under a svstem such as 
 yours ; — a system which not only poisons the source of the 
 law, but pollutes the seats of judgment ?....The present ad- 
 ministration is an enemy to the law : first, because it has 
 broken the law ; secondly, because it has attempted to poison 
 the true sources both of legislation and justice ; and however 
 the friends of that administration may talk plausibly on the 
 subject of public tranquillity, they are, in fact, the ringleaders 
 of sedition placed in authority. Rank majorities may give a 
 
100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 nation law, but rank majorities cannot give law authority." 
 In the course of the same session (1790) Mr. O'Neill, while 
 animadverting upon the corrupt influence of government, 
 thus predicted but too truly the catastrophe to which they 
 were hurrying : — " I do say, and I say it prophetically, that 
 the people will resist. The members of this house bear but a 
 small proportion to the people at large. There are gentlemen 
 outside these doors, of as good education and of as much judg- 
 ment of the relative duties of representation as any man within 
 doors ; — and matters are evidently ripening and will come to 
 a crisis," 
 
 The immense efficacy of clubs and societies, as instruments 
 of political agitation, had been evinced by the use which the 
 workers of the French Revolution had made of them ; and it 
 is a striking proof of the little foresight with which the steps 
 even of the most cautious are sometimes taken, that to no 
 less moderate a Whig than Lord Charlemont did Ireland owe, 
 at this crisis, the first example of that sort of combination for 
 political purposes which became afterwards such a lever in the 
 hands of her millions. At the latter end of 1789 this excel- 
 lent nobleman had, with the aid of Mr. Grattan, founded a 
 Whig Club in Dublin, and, shortly after, a similar society 
 was, through his lordship's means, instituted at Belfast. To 
 cultivate the old Revolution principles, as distinguished from 
 the democratic theories of the day, was the professed object 
 of these clubs ; but it was soon seen that the new revolution- 
 ary school had, in the minds of most of the northern zealots 
 of freedom, superseded the venerable doctrines of 1688. The 
 example set by Lord Charlemont was, in all but its modera- 
 tion, imitated ; other clubs, keeping pace more" boldly with 
 the advancing spirit of the times, succeeded ; and, at length, 
 in the ensuing year, 1791, was formed that deep and compre- 
 hensive "Plot of Patriots" (as they themselves described it), 
 the Society of United Irishmen ; — professing, as the aim and 
 principle of their Union, " the greatest happiness of the great- 
 est number," and calling upon all sects and denominations of 
 Irishmen to join them in the one great, common cause of 
 political, religious, and national enfranchisement. 
 
 Among the new features which distino'uished this club from 
 its predecessors, the prominence now for the first time given 
 to the wrongs of the Catholics, as one of those evils of which 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 101 
 
 the whole nation should call loudly for the redress, was hj far 
 the most important. Too long had the old AVhig feeling of 
 hatred to Popery succeeded in blinding many of the Protestant 
 advocates of freedom to the true interests of that cause which 
 they but as colonists, not as Irishmen, pleaded. Agreeing to 
 " call it freedom if themselves were free," they took no account 
 of the great mass of living materials, out of which alone the 
 pile of national liberty can be constructed. The Volunteer 
 Convention of 1783, in all their pride of patriotism, were yet 
 unwilling, as we have seen, to connect the question of Catiio- 
 lic freedom with Reform ; and, most absurdly, while demand- 
 ing a wide extension of the right of suffrage, were for leaving 
 the numbers of those who could exercise it as limited as ever. 
 The Whig Club too, though, as individuals, some of their 
 body were warm advocates of the Catholics, yet, as a society, 
 so far threw damp upon the questio'n as to exclude it from 
 among their subjects of discussion. 
 
 By this impolitic backwardness in their cause, the great 
 bulk of the people were, by degrees, alienated from all confi- 
 dence in the legitimate guardians of their rights, — were left to 
 listen to the call of other and bolder leaders, and to look to 
 that ominous light now kindled in the north as their sole and 
 sure beacon of invitation and hope. To those whose object it 
 was to rally all the nation's energies round a flag of a far 
 deeper green than the pale standard of Whigism, this distrust 
 of their parliamentary friends by the people was by no means 
 unwelcome ; nor, as far as courtesy to the individuals in 
 question would permit, did they fail to encourage it. " Trust," 
 said they, in one of their Addresses*, " as little to your friends 
 as to your enemies, in a matter where you can act only by 
 yourselves. The will of the nation must be declared before 
 any Reform can take placef ." 
 
 * Address of the Society of United Irislimen of Dublin to the Irish 
 Nation. 
 
 •j- In this sentence they seem to refer to Paiue's notions on the sub- 
 ject of Reform: — "A government on the principles upon -which con- 
 stitutional governments, arising out of society, are established, cannot 
 
 have the right of altering itself. The bill which Mr. Pitt br(>ught 
 
 into Parliament some years ago, to reforin Parliament, was on this er- 
 roneous principle. The right of Reform is in the nation in its original 
 character, and the constitutional method would be by a General Con- 
 vention elected for the purpose." 
 
102 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Anticipating, too (as they well might, under any govern- 
 ment less infatuated) the probability of their being, before 
 long, deprived of their hold upon the Catholics by a season- 
 able and liberal concession of their claims, they took care not 
 to fall into the error which has been, in our own times, com- 
 mitted, of representing this concession, however important, as 
 the " one thing needful," but thus, in another of their Ad- 
 dresses, guarded themselves against any such misconception or 
 limitation of their views : — " In the sincerity of our souls do 
 we desire Catholic Emancipation ; but, were it obtained to- 
 morrow, to-morrow should we go on as we do to-day, in the 
 pursuit of that Reform which would still be Avanting to ratify 
 their liberties as well as our own." 
 
 With all this, however, it was still but by very slow degrees 
 that the better order of^Catholics lent themselves to the ex- 
 citing call of their fellow-countrymen. Not, assuredly, from 
 any tendency that there is in their faith, more than in most 
 others, to weaken or counteract the spirit of liberty, — an as- 
 sumption which the events of our own time must have suffici- 
 ently set to rest, — but from the timidity and want of self- 
 confidence engendered by a long course of slavery, and the 
 hope still kept alive in their hearts of some boon from the 
 free grace of government, they were at first, naturally, fearful 
 of putting to hazard whatever advantages their present posi- 
 tion might possess for the precarious and stormy chances of 
 an alliance which seemed to offer no medium between success 
 and ruin. 
 
 To this cautious line of policy the influence of some of their 
 peers and chief gentry, who had hitherto taken the leading 
 part in their deliberations, had been successful in restraining 
 them ; but the same impatience under aristocratic rule which 
 was now pervading all Europe could not but find its way at 
 leno-th into the councils of the Catholics. So late as the year 
 1791, these hereditary conductors of their cause had taken 
 upon themselves, in the name of the whole body, to present 
 an Address to the Lord Lieutenant, condemnatory of the 
 spirit and tendency of the popular associations of the day, 
 and leaving, with implicit loyalty, to the discretion of govern- 
 ment the measure of justice it might think proper to accord 
 to their claims. 
 
 This offensive mixture, in their aristocratic leaders, of die- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 103 
 
 tation to the people and servility to the Court was at once felt 
 to have incapacitated them from being any longer the organs 
 of a ])ody rising into the proud attitude of assertors of their 
 own rights. The proceedings of this small knot of lords and 
 gentlemen were accordingly protested against by those whom 
 tliey pretended to represent ; and a separation having in con- 
 sequence taken place between them and the great mass of the 
 Catholics, the conduct of the cause devolved from thencefortli 
 into the hands of commercial men of intelligence and spirit, 
 whose position in society gave them an insight into the grow- 
 ing demands of the country, and placed their minds, as it 
 were, in contact with those popular influences and sympathies 
 from which the proud seclusion in which they lived had insu- 
 lated the former managers of their cause. 
 
 From this moment the political views of the Catholic Com- 
 rjittee and the United Irish Societies began manifestly to con- 
 verge towards the same formidable object — a general and 
 nationalized league against English power. Even the feud 
 which had for some time raged in the North between the low- 
 er classes of Roman Catholics and Presbyterians, and which 
 has bequeathed, in the transmitted spirit of its Peep-o'-day 
 boys, the curse of Orangeism to Ireland, could not prevent a 
 great majority of the better order of both sects from drawing 
 cordially towards a union, by which alone, they saw, their 
 common objects could be affected. The appointment, indeed, 
 of Theobald Wolfe Tone, the founder of the first society of 
 United Irishmen, to be Secretary of the Catholic Committee, 
 gave sufficiently intelligible warning that the time was at hand 
 when the same spirit would be found to actuate both these 
 bodies. 
 
 To the confluence of troubled waters which I have been 
 here describing, the example and progress of the French Revo- 
 lution were giving, every day, a more revolutionary colour and 
 course. In the year 1790-1, the Irish A^olunteers had trans- 
 mitted an Address to the National Assembly of France, and 
 received from them a long and fraternizing answer in return. 
 On the 14th of July, 1792, the town of Belfast, now foremost 
 in the race of democracy, had celebrated by a grand Proces- 
 sion and Festival the anniversary of the French Revolution 
 and among the devices and inscriptions displayed on the occa- 
 sion, one or two will sufficiently give a notion of the repul)l> 
 
104 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 can spirit that pervaded the whole ceremony. On a group of 
 emblematic figures was inscribed, " Our Gallic brethren were 
 born July 14, 1789 : — alas ! we are still in embryo." On 
 the reverse, " Superstitious jealousy, the cause of the Irish 
 Bastille : let us unite and destroy it." To this meeting the 
 Catholic Committee of Dublin sent down a deputation, and a 
 dinner given to those deputies, a day or two after the Festi- 
 val, is thus described by Tone : " Chequered at the head of 
 the table, sat Dissenter and Catholic. The four flags, Ame- 
 rica, France, Poland, Ireland, but no England.^^ 
 
 It is not wonderful that, by such manifestations of public 
 feeling, even the government of that day, hardened as it was 
 to all better appeals, should, at length, find itself alarmed into 
 some show of justice. The justice, however, that is wrung 
 from fear, but adds contempt to the former sense of wrong ; 
 and the whole history of the concession doled out to the 
 Catholics, in this and the ensuing year, but exhibits, in its 
 fullest perfection, that perverse art, in which Irish rulers have 
 shown themselves such adepts, of throwing a blight over 
 favours by the motive and manner of conferring them,- — an 
 art, which vmhappily has had the effect of rendering barren, 
 thankless, and unblest, some of the fairest boons bestowed by 
 England upon Ireland. At the beginning of this year (1792), 
 a Bill, brought forward avowedly under the sanction of gov- 
 ernment, gave to the Irish Catholics the right of admission to 
 the bar, and repealed one or two of the most odious of the 
 penal statutes. But, almost at that same time, a respectful 
 petition from that body, praying for " the restoration to them 
 of some share in the elective franchise," was, with a degree of 
 bitterness and indignity which seemed as it were a relief after 
 their late effort of liberality, spurned away from the table of 
 the House of Commons ; — thus not only poisoning the scanty 
 measure of relief just afforded, but teaching the Catholic how 
 to estimate the sudden access of generosity by which the very 
 same parliament was actuated towards him in the following 
 year, when, in a moment of panic, they of themselves hurried 
 forward to invest him with even more extensive riirhts than 
 those which the petition, now so insultingly thrown out, soli- 
 cited. 
 
 In the course of the session of 1792, two fearful predictions 
 were uttered, one of which the accomplishment followed but 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. lOft 
 
 too speedily. In exposing the gross corruption of the govern- 
 ment, Mr. Ponsonby said strongly, that " an hour would come 
 when the country would endure any extremity rather than 
 submit to the system of influence that had been established ;" 
 and Mr. Grattan, in the debate on the Catholic Bill, alluding 
 to the prospect of a Union, which was then, for the second 
 or third time in the course of the century, threatened, pro- 
 nounced it a measure that *' would be fatal to England, begin- 
 ning with a false compromise which they might call a Union, 
 to end in eternal separation, through the process of two civil 
 
 wars." 
 
 The immediate effect of the haughty repulse which the 
 Catholics suffered this session was to impress upon themselves , 
 and their Protestant advisers the necessitv of acting; with re- 
 doubled vigour in future, and of devising some plan by which 
 the collective sense of the whole Catholic population might be 
 brought to bear, peacefully and legally, but, at the same time, 
 with all the weight implied in such formidable unanimity, up- 
 on the government. This they were enabled to effect towards 
 the close of 1792, by a system of delegation, embracing all 
 the counties and many of the great towns and districts of 
 Ireland. Writs were issued to the electoral bodies, who had 
 been, in each place, chosen to name the delegates, and in the 
 month of December, a Convention, representing the entire 
 Catholic population, commenced its sittings with all the forms 
 of a Legislative Assembly, in Dublin. 
 
 Authoritative and commanding, in itself, as speaking the 
 voice of at least three-fourths of the nation, this body was 
 also backed by a considerable proportion of the Protestant 
 talent and spirit of the country, in and out of parliament, as 
 well as by the daily increasing confederacy of the Presbyter- 
 ian republicans of the North. While the late Catholic Bill 
 had been before the House, a petition was sent up, signed by 
 numbers of the most respectable persons in Belfast, praying 
 that the Legislature would repeal all penal laws against the 
 Catholics, and place them on the same footing with their 
 Protestant fellow-subjects. 
 
 Among other symptoms of the rapid progress now making 
 towards that national union from which alone English supre- 
 macy has any danger to fear, it is mentioned that the Yolun- 
 teers of Dublin, on the recent celebration of the 4th of No- 
 
106 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 vember, had refused to parade, as usual, round the statue of 
 King William, and that, while all of them had discarded their 
 orange ribbons, some had even appeared, on that day, in cock- 
 ades of the national green. But the event, among these 
 minor indications of public feeling, in which the government 
 must have seen most formidably shadowed out the forthcom- 
 ing results of their own obstinate misrule, was the enthusiastic 
 reception given, at Belfast "^j to the five Catholic Delegates, 
 whom the General Committee had deputed to lay their Peti- 
 tion before the king. " On their departure," say the accounts 
 of the day, " the assembled populace took the horses from 
 their carriage, and drew them quite through the town over 
 the long bridge on the road to Donaghadee, amidst the loud- 
 est huzzas and cries of ' Success attend you,' ' Union,' * Equal 
 laws,' and * Down with the Ascendancy.' " 
 
 Such, — as briefly brought before the eyes of my readers as 
 the subject would allow, — was the state of ominous excite- 
 ment to which a long train of causes, foreign and domestic, 
 all tending towards the same inevitable crisis, had concurred 
 in winding up the public mind in Ireland, at the time when 
 Lord Edward arrived to fix his residence in that country. 
 He found the Parliament already assembled, and had not 
 more than a dav or two taken his seat, when, in the course of 
 a Debate on an address to the Lord Lieutenant, he, by one 
 of those short bursts of feeling which have a far better chance 
 of living in history than the most elaborate harangue, showed 
 how unrestrainedly all his sympathies had, even at this time, 
 connnitted themselves with the srreat national strusfo'le in 
 which his countrymen were engaged. 
 
 In order to understand clearly the occasion on which this 
 manifestation of his feelings was called forth, a brief reference 
 to some anterior circumstances, marked strongly with the 
 character of the times, may not be superfluous. 
 
 Among the many plans devised by the L^nited Irishmen, 
 for banding and organizing the people, a revival, or rather 
 extension, of the old volunteer system had been resorted to 
 with success by the patriots of the North, and was now about 
 to be tried, on even a more daring scale, in Dublin. An 
 armed association, calling themselves the . " Eirst National 
 
 * December, 1792. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 107 
 
 Battalion," aud bearing, for their device, au Irish harp, with- 
 out a crown, surmounted bv a cap of Liberty, had, in the 
 month of December, 1792, sent forth summonses for the 
 meeting of their corps : but a Proclamation, issued by govern- 
 ment on the day preceding their meeting, put a stop to the 
 design. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, however, an assembhug of Delegates 
 from the Old Volunteer corps of Dublin announced their 
 intention, shortlv after, of holding a meeting: to celebrate the 
 late retreat of the Duke of Brunswick, and the French victory 
 in Brabant. To confound these old established corps of Vol- 
 unteers with the new military associations emanating from the 
 system of the United Irishmen was the obvious policy of a 
 government interested in suppressing all such combinations. 
 In order to render, however, the proclamation issued against 
 the National Guard available for the dispersion of more inno- 
 cent assemblages, it was thousrht necessarv, as a matter of 
 form, to apply for the sanction of Parliament ; and a motion 
 was accordino'lv made, on the 31st of Januarv, for an Address 
 to the Lord Lieutenant, approving the Proclamation, and 
 pledging the House to support cordially such measures as 
 misrht be necessarv to bring it into full effect. 
 
 It was on this occasion that Lord Edward Fitzgerald gave 
 vent to his feeliuirs in those few bold words to which I have 
 already adverted, and which have been recorded with such 
 fidelity by all historians of the Irish Parliament. At the very 
 end of the discussion, after several of the chief members of 
 opposition, and, among others, Mr. Grattau himself, had 
 declared their approval of the Proclamation, and condemned 
 strongly the repubhcan language of some of the summonses 
 aud resolutions of the volunteers. Lord Edward, as if unable 
 any longer to contain himself, started up, and with great 
 euersrv of manner, said — '' Sir. I srive mv most heartv disap- 
 probation to this address, for I do think that the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant and the majority of this House are the worst subjects 
 the King has." 
 
 Loud^cries of ''to the Bar" and "take down his words" 
 resounded instantly from all sides. The House was cleared in 
 a moment, and nearly three hours elapsed before strangers 
 were re-admitted. During this interval attempts were in vain 
 made to induce the refractory member to apologize. All that 
 
108 MEMOIRS OF > 
 
 either persuasion or the threatened rigour of the House could 
 draw from him was a few equivocal words, in which, with 
 some humour, (if the report I have heard of them be true,) 
 he reasserted his former obnoxious opinion, saying, " I am 
 accused of having declared that I think the Lord Lieutenant 
 and the majority of this House the worst subjects the King 
 has : — I said so, 'tis true, and I'm sorry for it." If such 
 really were the terms of his lordship's explanation, it can but 
 little surprise us that the House should have come to a unani- 
 mous resolution, "that the excuse offered by the Right Hon. 
 Edward Fitzgerald, commonly called Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald, for the said words so spoken, is unsatisfactory and 
 insufficient." 
 
 This resolution was followed by an order, passed also unani- 
 mously, " that Lord Edward Fitzgerald do attend at the bar 
 of this House to-morrow." On the day following he appeared 
 accordingly in custody, at the bar, and, being again called 
 upon by the Speaker, offered a few words of explanation, of 
 which no report has been preserved, but which could hardly 
 have been of a very penitential nature, as on the question 
 being put whether the House should receive the excuse, 
 there appeared a minority of no less than 55 against accept- 
 ing it. 
 
 In about a week after this occurrence, we find him again 
 standing forth, almost singly, against government, and raising 
 his voice in reprobation of that system of coercion which the 
 new aspect of affairs abroad was now emboldening them to 
 adopt. At the first opening of the session, a more liberal 
 spirit had seemed to pervade their councils. The prospect of 
 an immediate war with France, still more formidable from the 
 prevalence of her principles than of her arms, — the alliance 
 rapidly cementing between the Dissenters and Catholics, both 
 victims of the Church Establishment, and the latter, outca.sts 
 of the State, — the commanding attitude assumed by the dele- 
 gates of so many millions in Convention, — all these considera- 
 tions had, at the commencement of this session of 1793, pro- 
 duced suddenly, on the part of the government, a disposition 
 towards conciliation and justice, which, while it completely 
 took all their parhamentary adherents by surprise, was yet 
 seconded by these ever ready instruments with a degree of 
 docility that brought discredit alike on authority and its sup- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 109 
 
 porters, and rendered them hardly more respectable in the 
 right than in the wrong. 
 
 What had occurred too, during the summer, rendered this 
 sudden conversion of the ruling party still more startling. 
 The haughty rejection of the Catholic prayer in the preceding 
 session had been regarded by all the enemies of religious 
 freedom as a signal for the indulgence at once of their loyal 
 and intolerant zeal. In the course of the summer months, the 
 most violent declarations had been issued by most of the 
 Grand Juries and Corporations, denouncing fiercely, not only 
 the religious, but the moral and political tenets of the Catho- 
 lics, and proffering prodigally the aid of their own lives and 
 fortunes in excluding them from all further power. At more 
 than one of these inflammatory meetings persons.high in official 
 trust assisted ; and the greater number of them, it was supposed, 
 had received sanction and impulse from the ruling powers. 
 
 Almost in the very face of this movement, with that blind 
 recklessness of character by which such a government forfeits 
 the confidence of its friends, without, in the least degree, con- 
 ciliatiDg the good-will of its opponents, the present session 
 opened with a recommendation to parliament to take into its 
 " wise and liberal" consideration the condition of his majesty's 
 Catholic subjects. The measure of grace was, in this instance, 
 represented as originating in the bounty of the Crown ; and a 
 deputation from that lately execrated body, the Catholic Con- 
 vention, was now seen, day after day, amicably closeted with 
 the minister, negotiating for their admission to power on a far 
 wider basis than that from which, but a few months before, 
 the same minister had so contemptuously dislodged them. 
 
 While thus, on one of the two great questions that agitated 
 the country, some symptoms of a more just and liberal policy 
 were manifested, on the other no less vital subject, Parlia- 
 mentary Reform, an admission had been, for the first time, 
 made, on the part of the ruling powers, of the principle and 
 practicability of such a measure, by their consenting to the 
 appointment of a Committee to inquire into the state of the 
 representation.'^ 
 
 * " "Whence does all this benignity flow ? " sai<l Lord Charlemont, 
 in a letter to Mr. Hardy ; — " I doubt much whether Mounsieur Dumou- 
 rier ever heard of a Parliamentary Reform, and yet I am almost tempt- 
 ed to suspect him of having some share in what is now going forward." 
 
110 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 This prospect of a change of policy, and in the unexpected 
 direction of tolerance and reform, Avas hailed by all friends of 
 their country with a degree of satisfaction and hope which 
 unfortunately was allowed but a short period of indulgence. 
 The star of French freedom had, about this time, begun to 
 darken, and, as it was thought, decline in its course. The 
 execution of the King, the chiily increasing excesses of the 
 Jacobins, and the state of moral as well as political disorgani- 
 zation into which all France seemed sinkinu', had besi-un to 
 bring odium upon the theories ot the youtliful Republic, while 
 her present reverses in Flanders were dissolving fast the spell 
 of her arms ; and the effect of both these causes combined, at 
 the period of which we are speaking, was to produce a re- 
 action in favour of ancient institutions throughout Europe, of 
 which Legitimate Power, tottering as he had been from his 
 base, in all quarters, was now hastening to take advantage, 
 for the recovery of his balance. 
 
 In Ireland, where but little encouragement Avas ever want- 
 ing to induce its rulers to persevere in, or return to, old abuses, 
 the eff'ects of this brightening up of the cause of Thrones were 
 instantly perceptible. Thongh it was now too late to retract 
 the promised boon to the Catholics, the favour could be, at 
 least, they knew, " shorn of its beams ;" and, instead of con- 
 sidering any longer how much might be accorded with gra- 
 ciousncss, the minister now only calculated how much could be 
 withheld with safety. The glimpse of Reform, too, that, had 
 been so reluctantly held forth was withdrawn, and a course of 
 coercive and inquisitorial measures forthwith entered upon, 
 which, like all such legislation, gendered of injustice and fear, 
 but provoked those very evils of which they professed to bo 
 the cure. 
 
 To the severe acts passed this session, the fore-rnnners, as 
 it was found, of others still severer, the opposition party in 
 parliament afforded, it must be owned, too ready a sanction ; 
 — partly, at first, from complaisance to a government which 
 they thought inclined to do right, and partly, afterwards, from 
 fear of a people whom they saw goaded into doing wrong. 
 Even Mr. Grattan himself but faintly, if at all, opposed a 
 measure* Avhich, a few years after, in a Petition from the 
 
 * The Gunpowder Bill. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. Ill 
 
 "Whig Club, attributed to his pen, he thus strongly character- 
 ized. "They then proceeded," he says, speaking of tiie gov- 
 ernment of this period, " to a system of coercion to support 
 their corruption, and to dragoon the people, as they had 
 bpught the parliament. They began that system by an act 
 which tended, in a qualified manner, to disarm his majesty's 
 subjects, under certain regulations, named a Gunpowder Bill, 
 and which had principally in view to put down the Irish 
 Volunteers ; and, to check the discontent which grew from 
 this measure, further measures of violence, and new causes of 
 discontent, were resorted to." 
 
 It was on the discussion of the act here specified, the Gun- 
 powder Bill, that Lord Edward, as I have already intimated, 
 stood forth, almost alone, against the government, condemn- 
 ing, particularly, the clause imposing penalties on the removal 
 of arms from one place to another, and pronouncing the whole 
 bill to be, from beginning to end, a penal law. 
 
 The Convention Bill, another of the coercive acts of this 
 session, the sole effect of which was, by producing still deeper 
 discontent, to render measures of still more searching severity 
 necessary, was, it is true, combated, with his usual vigour, by 
 Mr. Grattan, in every stage.* Bat he found but feeble sup- 
 port from the remainder of his party. Only three Lords, the 
 Duke of Leinster, the Earl of Charlemont, and the Earl of 
 Arran, voted against the bill in the House of Peers, while 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Mr. Grattan formed part of a 
 minority of but 27 to 128, that recorded their reprobation of 
 it in the House of Commons. 
 
 I shall now give >some letters written by his lordship in the 
 course of this and the succeeding year. 
 
 " April, 1793. 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " I have been very idle, and so has my dear little wife ; 
 but I hope you will forgive us, — she is afraid you are angry 
 with her. The truth is, the sitting up so late has made us 
 late in the morning, and we get on so agreeably, and chatter 
 so much in the morning, that the day is over before we know 
 
 * "This bill, sir," said that great man, "I pronounce to be the 
 boldest step that was ever j-et made towards introducing a mihtary 
 government." 
 
112 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 where we are. Dublin lias been very gay, — a great number 
 of balls, of which the lady misses none. Dancing is a great 
 passion with her : I wish you could see her dance, you would 
 delight in it, she dances so with all her heart and soul. Every 
 body seems to like her, and behave civily and kindly to her. 
 There was a kind of something about visiting Lady Leitrim, 
 but it is all over now. We dined there on Sunday, and she 
 was quite pleasant, and Pamela likes her very much. 
 
 " We have not been able yet to go to Castletown, to stay, 
 but intend going there next week. I had one very pleasant 
 day with dear aunt Louisa, and had a long talk about you, 
 which was not the least pleasant part of it. We have been 
 four or five times to Frescati ; but the weather has been too 
 cold to enjoy it well : you know what a difference that makes 
 in every thing with me. Pray tell Ogilvie I have deferred 
 speaking to Byrne till the spring was a little more advanc- 
 ed, to show it in beauty to him. If the weather comes mild I 
 shall go and stay there, for I long for a little country and a 
 little fine weather. 
 
 " There is nothing going on in the House, and I believe 
 our Reform will not take us long, so that I suppose Dublin 
 will soon be empty. I find by your letter that people are as 
 violent about politics in London as they are here, which is 
 l^retty well. My differing so much in opinion with the people 
 that one is unavoidably obliged to live with here, does not 
 add much, you may guess, to the agreeableuess of Dublin 
 society. But I have followed my dear mother's advice, and 
 do talk much on the subject, and when I do, am very cool. 
 It certainly is the best way ; but all my prudence does not 
 hinder all sorts of stories being made about my wife and me, 
 some of which I am afraid, have frightened yon, dearest 
 mother. It is rather hard that when, with a wish to avoid 
 disputing, one sees and talks only to a few people, of one's 
 own way of thinking, we are, at once, all set down as a nest 
 of traitors. From what you know of me, you may guess all 
 this has not much changed my opinions ; but I keep very 
 quiet, do not go out much, except to see my wife dance, and, 
 — in short, keep my breath to cool my porridge. 
 
 " Your affectionate son, 
 
 "E. F." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 113 
 
 " Frescati, April 27th, 1*793. 
 
 " Ogilvie will have glorious weather for his journey ; I 
 shall be delighted to see him ; he does quite right to come : 
 I believe Lord W * * only waits to see him to settle about 
 Frescati. Mrs. S * * , whom I saw yesterday, told me he 
 was now determined on taking it. He has been shilH-shally 
 about it lately, but is now fixed ; this makes me, at last, look 
 about me. I have heard of a place in the county of "\Yick- 
 low which I think will do for me ; a Mr. Magennis had it, 
 and the description he gives of it is delightful . — in a beauti- 
 ful country between Wicklow and Arklow, a small house with 
 forty acres of land, some trees upon it near the sea-side, ever- 
 greens the most beautiful growing among the rocks, the rent 
 £90 a year. We are going to see that and some otiier places 
 that are to be set to-morrow. We go to iS'ewbridge, twenty- 
 six miles from this, and mean to stay theie three days to look 
 about us. 
 
 " I have heard a beautiful description of that part of the 
 county of Wicklow, and every thing sets cheaper than about 
 the parts we know. I think I shall hke any thing in the 
 county of Wicklow better than Leinster Lodge or Kildare, 
 the country is so much more beautiful ; and when one is to 
 settle, w4iy not choose a pretty spot and pretty country ? I 
 think it is worth while paying a little more rent, and, if neces- 
 sary, curtailing in other things, as in servants or houses. I 
 own also I hke not to be Lord Edward Fitzgerald, * the county 
 of Kildare member,' &c. &c. — to be bored with ' this one is 
 vour brother's friend,' — ' that man voted aQ:ainst him,' &c. 
 In short, by what I hear of this place, I shall be very quiet, 
 — not a gentleman nearer me than six miles, except a young 
 Mr. Tighe, whom I like. 
 
 " I am a little ashamed when I reason and say to myself 
 * Leinster Lodge would be the most profitable. Ninety per- 
 sons of one hundred would choose it, and be delighted to get 
 it.' It is, to be sure, in a good country ; plentiful, affords 
 every thing a person wants, but it has not mountains and 
 rocks, and / do like mountains and rocks, and pretty views, and 
 pretty hedges, and pretty cabins, — ay, and a pleasanter people. 
 In short, I shall certainly, I think, fix on the Wicklow place ; 
 — that is, if I like it. If not, I shall take some place that is 
 to be let for the summer, or by the month, to go to from here. 
 
114 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Poor Frescati ! I shall be sorry to leave it. I look at 
 all the trees and places with regret. I hope, however, to sec 
 every thing blossom before I go ; for two or three days more 
 will bring all the lilacs completely. My dear little wife is 
 well — goes on delightfully. I never saw her look so well : 
 she grows both broad and long. Indeed, she has quite taken 
 a fit of growing." 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "Frescati, May 6th, 1793. 
 
 " Wife and I are come to settle here. We came last night, 
 got up to a delightful spring day, and are now enjoying the 
 little book-room, with the windows open, hearing the birds 
 sing, and the place looking beautiful. The plants in the pas- 
 sage are just watered : and, with the passage door open, the 
 room smells like a green-house. Pamela has dressed foui' 
 beautiful flower-pots, and is now working at her frame, while 
 I write to my dearest mother ; and upon the two little stands 
 there are six pots of fine auriculas, and I am sitting in the bay 
 window, with all those pleasant feelhigs which the fine weath- 
 er, the pretty place, the singing birds, the pretty Avife, and 
 Frescati gives me, — with your last dear letter to my wife be- 
 fore me : — so you may judge how I love you at this moment. 
 Yes, dearest mother, I am delighted at the Malvern party, 
 and am determined to meet you there, or wherever you are. 
 I dote on being with you any where, but particularly in the 
 country, as I think we always enjoy one another's company 
 there more than in town. I long for a little walk with you, 
 leaning on me, — or to have a long talk with you, sitting out 
 in some pretty spot, of a fine day, with your long cane in your 
 hand, working at some httle weed at your feet, and looking 
 down, talking all the time. I won't go on in this way, for I 
 should want to set out directly, and that cannot be, so I shall 
 give you some account of what we have been doing. We 
 were here a fortnight with the Henries, and were very pleas- 
 ant : we 
 
 " May 8th. — My dearest, I was stopped in my letter by 
 my dear wife being taken very ill ; she is now much better, 
 and is going on as well as possible. She has not kept her 
 bed, by the doctor's advice, but lies on the couch in the book- 
 room. I was frightened a good deal the first day at her 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, ll5 
 
 great weakness, but she is much stronger to-day, and I feel 
 quite comfortable about her. Emily says she will write to 
 you, and tell you every thing about her better than me. We 
 have luckily had two of the finest days that ever were, so we 
 have all the windows open. Xot to be far from her, I am 
 amusing myself dressing the little beds about the house, and 
 have had the little green full mowed and rolled ; the little 
 mound of earth that is round the bays and myrtle before the 
 house, I have planted with tufts of gentianellas and primroses, 
 and lily of the valley, and they look iDcautiful, peeping out of the 
 dark everorreen : close to the root of the ijreat elm I have 
 put a patch of lily of the valley. I have got the beds well 
 dressed, and the whole thing looks beautiful, and I mean to 
 keep it as neat as possible while here : in short, dearest moth- 
 er, at this moment I only want you here, and little wife well ; 
 for, in the midst of the feelings of the fine weather, I want 
 her to enjoy them with me. 
 
 " Pray, when shall you be at Malvern ? I shall wish to 
 give her a month or three weeks' sea-bathing ; — so I expect 
 to be ready to meet you in the beginning or middle of June. 
 Emily, who is here, says the Henries set out on Sunday : we 
 shall miss them terribly. Lady H. has been kinder than I 
 can say about my wife, — every thing I could wish, — and that 
 is saying a great deal. 
 
 " Give my love to all the dear girls and Ogilvie ; tell them 
 I long to see them. I hope dear Ciss is quite well, and takes 
 good long rides. I know she dotes on a fine spring ride. I 
 was in hopes Pamela would have been able to ride with her, 
 when we met ; but I am afraid we must give that up. Tell 
 her we got the bracelets, and thank her very much. Pamela 
 is as bad about writing as me, — but I will make one excuse, 
 — she has, of late, had no time, for I have kept her out all 
 day, and took up her time to dissipate her, and prevent her 
 thinking on, and vexing herself about, all these French affairs, 
 which have distressed her very much. Good bye, dearest 
 mother, I have said all my say, — so bless you a thousand 
 times. The dear little, pale, pretty wife sends her love to you. 
 
 " Your 
 
 " Edward." 
 
116 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ♦' Frescati, June 11, 1793. 
 "dfarest mother, 
 
 " We returned here vesterdav from Castletown, where we 
 had been a week. We had promised to go there a long time, 
 but could not prevail on ourselves to leave this sweet place, 
 where we are so comfortable. However, we at last took a 
 good resolution, and when once there, passed a very pleasant 
 week ; but were delighted to return here yesterday evening, 
 and enjoy this place, which is now in perfection. All the 
 shrubs are out, lilac, laburnum, syringa, spring roses, and lily 
 of the valley in quantities, four pots full now in the book- 
 room, — in short, the whole thing is heavenly. I believe there 
 never was a person who understood planting and making a 
 place as you do. The more one sees Carton and this place, 
 the more one admires them ; the mixture of plants and the 
 succession of them are so well arranged. We went to the 
 cottage from Castletown ; it is in high beauty, in spite of 
 neglect and contrivance to spoil it. The Leinsters are all in 
 the country settled, and intend to enjoy it, they say. We 
 shall pay them a visit after my wife has had a fortnight's 
 bathing. 
 
 " Our Parliament did business yesterday. What is to be 
 done was partly told us, — a new arrangement of the revenues, 
 a pension bill and a place bill, — but the sums not mentioned. 
 I am fraid we shall have only form, not substance ; no saving 
 of expense, no abolition of places, and a great increase of 
 taxes. Ogilvie will explain it all to you, if you wish to know 
 it. What is to be done, though, will, I believe, take a good 
 deal of time. I do not think we shall be up these six weeks, 
 which I am vexed at, as it will delay us seeing you, dear, dear 
 mother ; — but we shall enjoy Frescati. I wish Ogilvie was 
 here now, and in parliament ; he would be of use. I think 
 we shall be bamboozled or deceived in this arrangement. I 
 do not think our people understand well what they are about. 
 Tell Ogilvie how much I thank him for subscribing for me to 
 Charles Fox's business ; I will pay him the half of it this 
 June." 
 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. lit 
 
 "Dublin, Saturday, 27th December, 1793. 
 " We arrived here last night,* after a good passage of 
 thirty-nine hours, all well, and not much tired. "We intend to 
 go to Carton to-morrow, stay a day there, and go from thence 
 to Castletown. Our journey was pleasant enough, the weath- 
 er favourable. We eat your pie on board ship, — it was excel- 
 lent. I am not yet accustomed to be away from you, and 
 think of dear Malvern with great regret, — so cheerful and so 
 pleasant. After I got into the carriage, I recollected I had 
 not bid Ogilvie good bye. I hope he saw that it was from 
 my hurry to get the parting over, and not from being careless 
 about leaving him ; for really I was very sorry, and must have 
 been very ungrateful if I had not, for he was as pleasant and 
 kind as possible to me and my wife the whole time ; but I 
 was vexed with myself that my hurry should have given me 
 an appearance of neglect, where my heart spoke directly con- 
 trary. God bless you, dear, dear mother, and believe me, 
 
 " Your affectionate, &c." 
 
 " Dublin, Jan. 23, 1794. 
 
 " I beg pardon for putting off answering your two dear let- 
 ters so long, but the hurry of Castletown (what with balls, and 
 hunting, and sitting after dinner), took up all one's time. We 
 left Castletown last Monday, to make our Carton visit, where 
 we stay till next week, and then go to Frescati, the quiet of 
 which I long for. I assure you I often regret our dear quiet 
 Malvern, and no party will ever be so pleasant to me. My 
 dear little wife has, upon the whole, been cheerful and amused, 
 'which of course pleases me. I never have received an answer 
 from her mother, so that Pamela is still ignorant of what has 
 happened. 
 
 " Politics do not go on well, I think. The leaders of 
 Opposition are afraid of the people, and distrasted by them of 
 course. Leinster really is the only man who seems fair and 
 honest, and not frightened ; but as he sees himself not sui> 
 ported by the rest of the party, and does not approve of their 
 ways of thinking, he means to keep quiet, and entirely out of 
 the business. ConoUy is the sume as usual, — both ways : 
 
 * His Lordship and Lady Edward had been passing some time with 
 the Dutchess of Leinster at Malvern. 
 
118 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 but determined not to support government. His militia has 
 frightened him : he swears they are all republicans, as well as 
 every man in the North. He concludes all his speeches by 
 cursing presbyterians : he means well and honestly, dear 
 fellow, but his line of proceeding is wrong. Grattan I can 
 make nothing of. His speech last night on the Address was 
 very bad, and the worst doctrine ever laid down,* viz. that 
 this country is bound, right or wrong, without inquiry, to sup- 
 port England in any war she may undertake. There was no 
 division on the Address, but I believe there will be something 
 done to-night. If there is not, I shall not go to Parliament 
 again during the session. It is in vain to look to that quarter 
 for any thing ; and if the people don't help themselves, why, 
 they must suffer. There is not a person that doesn't abuse 
 this war, yet no man will take measures to stop it. It will 
 stop itself at last, but I am afraid with very bad consequences. 
 
 " I won't bore you any more about our politics : you may 
 see I am not in great good humour about them. If we do 
 anything to-night to support Charles Fox and his friends 
 against the war, I shall be in better humour. I own altogether 
 I am greatly provoked at them all, when I see every man 
 acting in the very manner calculated to bring on those ills they 
 say they are so afraid of ; — but no more on this subject. 
 
 " I don't know whether Aunt Louisa wrote you word that 
 Conolly wants to give me his lodge at Kildare, all furnished and 
 ready. However, I don't think I shall take it : indeed I am 
 determined not ; — it is too much to accept as a present : but 
 I have some thoughts of borrowing it for next summer, trying 
 if I like it, and if it will suit me, I will then take it off his' 
 hands, and pay him what it is worth. I understand it is worth 
 about i3300 as it stands, furniture and all. The situation 
 certainly is advantageous for me : — six miles from Kilrush, 
 across the Curragh ; not too large, and the country round 
 pleasant. If I want a farm I can have one on my own 
 estate : if I don't choose to undertake a farm, and wish to 
 leave the country for any time, the place is so small that it can 
 be taken care of by one person, at little expense. I think I 
 may try it for some time. 
 
 * In his war politics, Mr. Grattan was at least consistent, thalast 
 speech he ever made having been in favour of the war with France in 
 1816. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 119 
 
 " I own that, thouirh I feel so mucli inclination to settle 
 qnietly and turn farmer, I dread any thing that would obliore 
 me to stay lono- fi'om my dearest mother, which a great farm 
 might do, — unless 1 had somebody whom I could depend on 
 to look after it while I am nway. If one pays attention to it, I 
 understand by all I hear, that a grass farm is certainly a pro- 
 fitable thing. Now I think by taking ConoUy's place for a year 
 or so, and my farm on my own estate, which only pays me £14 
 a year, I may try my hand safely, and not risk much when I 
 leave it ; and perhaps, in the course of carrying it on, find 
 somebody I could trust to manage my business while away. I 
 am constantly turning all this over and over in my head, and 
 have time to consider, as Leinster Lodge cannot be had till 
 November, and I shall in the meantime enjoy dear Frescati. 
 I shall take a turn from there in April, and show my wife the 
 two places. She at present inclines to the small house, as I do 
 myself. I do like a small place so much better than a large 
 one." 
 
 "Freseati, Feb. 6th, 1764 
 '* I have got an under-gardener (myself) to prepare some 
 spots for flowers, and to help Tim. I have been hard at work 
 to-day and part of yesterday (]iy the by weather so hot, I go 
 without coat, and the birds singing like spring), cleaning the 
 little corner to the right of the house, digging round roots of 
 trees, raking ground, and planting thirteen two-year old 
 laurels and Portugal laurels. I have also trimmed the rose 
 trees. The flowers and shrubs had all got out of the little 
 green palling ; — I am now putting them inside, and mean only 
 to have a border of primroses and polyanthus outside, if I have 
 any. I mean from thence to go to the rosery, and then to the 
 little new planted corners. I am to have hyacinths, jonquils, 
 pinks, cloves, narcissuses, &c. in little beds before the house, and 
 in the rosery. Some parts of the long round require a great 
 deal of pruning, and trees to be cut ; if you trust me, I think 
 I could do it prudently, and have the wood laid by. There 
 are numbers of trees quite spoiling one another. 
 
 " God bless you, dear mother, I am now going to make my 
 gardener work, for he does nothing if I am not with him. 
 Pamela sends you her love : hers and mine to all the rest. 
 Bless you all : this is too fine a day to stay longer writing. I 
 
120 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 wish to God you were here. If you want any thuig done tell 
 me ; if you hko what I am doinp:, tell me ; if you like the part 
 of the house we have taken, tell me," 
 
 "Fi-eseati, Feb. lOtli, 179-1. 
 
 yfz 0f% ?K *f« #f« ?i^ 
 
 " I live here constantly. Pam has not been in to\\ni since 
 
 we came. She goes to the manutacturer's ball on Friday. 
 
 She is quite well, eats, drinks, and slee})s well ; she works a 
 
 great deal, and I read to her. I have left oft* gardening, for I 
 
 hated that all my troubles should go for that vile Lord W**, 
 
 and my flowers to be for aides-de-camp, chaplains, and all such 
 
 followers of a lord-lieutenant.*" 
 
 ****** 
 
 Kildare, June 23cl, 179-1, 
 "dearest mother, 
 
 " I write to you in the middle of settling and arranging my 
 little family here.f But the day is fine, — the spot look? 
 pretty, quiet, and comfortable ; — I feel }ileasant, contented, and 
 happy, and all these feelings and siglits never come across me 
 without brino-iuo- dearest, dearest mother to mv lieart's recol- 
 lection. 1 am sure vou understand these feeliuirs, dear mother. 
 How you would like this little spot ! it is the smallest thing 
 imaginable, and to numbers would have no beauty ; but there 
 is a comfort and moderation in it that delights me. I don't 
 know 1 can describe it to you, but I will try. 
 
 " After going up a little lane, and in at a close gate, you 
 come on a little white house, with a small gravel court before 
 it. You see but three small windows, the court surrounded by 
 larffe old elms : one side of the liouse covered with shrubs, on 
 the other side a tolerable large ash ; upon the stairs going up 
 to the house, two wicker cages, in which there are at this mo- 
 ment two thrushes, singing a gorge dc.ployee. In coming into 
 the house, you tind a small passage hall, very clean, the floor 
 tiled ; upon your left, a small room ; on the right, the stair- 
 
 * Lord Westmoreland the nobleman here alluded to had, at this 
 time, some idea of taking Freseati. 
 
 \ Mr. Couolly's Lodge in the town of Kildare, to which his lurd- 
 fihip had now removed. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 121 
 
 case. In front you come into the parlour, a good room, with 
 a how window loolting into the garden, which Is a small green 
 plot surrounded by good trees, and in it three of the finest 
 thorns I ever saw, and all the trees so placed that you may 
 «:hade vourself from the sun all hours of the dav ; the how 
 window, covered with honeysuckle, and up to the wuidow some 
 roses. 
 
 " Going up stairs you find another bow-room, the honey- 
 Buckle is almost up to it, and a little room the same size as 
 that below ; this, with a kitchen or servants' hall Vjelow, is 
 the whole house. There is, on the left, in the court-yard, 
 another building which makes a kitchen ; it is covered by 
 trees, so as to look pretty ; at the back of it, there is a yard, 
 &c, which looks into a lane. On the side of the house oppo- 
 site the grass plot, there is ground enough for a flower-garden, 
 communicating with the front garden by a little walk, 
 
 " The whole place is situated on a kind of rampart, of a 
 circular form, surrounded by a wall ; which wall, towards the 
 village and lane, is high, but covered with trees and shrubs ; — 
 the trees old and large, giving a great deal of shade. To- 
 wards the countrv iha wall is not hiffher than vour knee, and 
 this covered with bushes : from these open parts you have a 
 view of a pretty cultivated country, till your eye is stopped by 
 the Curragh. From our place there is a back way to these 
 fields, so as to go out and walk, without having to do with the 
 town. 
 
 " This, dearest mother, is the spot as well as I can give it to 
 yon, but it don't describe well ;* one must see it and feel it ; 
 it is all the little peeps and ideas that go with it that make the 
 beauty of it to me. My dear wife dotes on it, and becomes 
 it. She is busy in her little American jacket, planting sweet 
 peas and mignonette. Her table and work-box, with the little 
 one's caps, are on the table. I wish my dearest mother was 
 here, and the scene to me would be complete, 
 
 " I will now answer some of your dear letters. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Pam is as well as possible, better than ever ; the only incon- 
 
 * I paid a visit to this spot some month; since, and cotild trace only 
 a few of the general features here described. Of the Ixxlge its^-lf there 
 are no remains, and the whole place is in a state of de5olatic:i. 
 
122 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 venience she finds is great fulness, for which she was bled this 
 morning:, and it "has done her a great deal of good. I can't 
 tell you how delighted she was with your cliina, and how it adds 
 to the little menage; it is beautiful, and your dear way of 
 buying and giving it goes to my heart. What would I give to 
 have you here drinking tea out of it ! Ogilvie flattered us 
 with the prospect the last day we dined with him. If you do 
 not come, we will go to you, when you think Pamela will bear 
 it. I don't know how nursing and travelling do, but I should 
 think, if the child should prove strong, it won't mind it. 
 
 " Parting with poor dear Frescati did make me melancholy, 
 as well as the idea of your settling away from us ; but, cer- 
 tainly, there are good reasons for it. If you can once recover 
 your money for Frescati, it will be a great object, and not be 
 missed ; and then, after parting with it, I don't think you 
 would like Ireland. I have tired you by this long scrawl. 
 I have not said half I feel, for it is one of those delightful 
 days when one thinks and feels more than one can say or 
 write." 
 
 "Kilclare, July 19th, 1794. 
 
 " Thank you for your account of the Henries. I had read 
 the account of the eruption in the paper, and had been just 
 saying to Pamela how lucky they were to be near Naples at 
 that time, not thinking they had been in danger. I suppose, 
 now the danger is over, they are glad to have seen it ; and by 
 the public accounts, I see very few people have been killed or 
 hurt, — not so many as in a trifling skirmish in Flanders. I am 
 glad you are enjoying yourself at Boyle farm. I dare say 
 poor Henry thought of it in his fright, and wished himself 
 there. 
 
 " I have not stirred from this place since we came. I in- 
 tend paying a visit for a day to Castletown or Carton next 
 week. We have been busy here about the militia ; the peo- 
 ple do not like it much, — that is, the common people and 
 farmers, — and even though Leinster has it, they do not tho- 
 roughly come into it, which I am glad of, as it shows they 
 l)egin not be entirely led by names. I am sure, if any person 
 else had taken it, it could not have been raised at all. It has 
 required all his exertion to bring the people into it, in any 
 manner, and they are not at all cordial to it. We are by no 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 123 
 
 means so eager in this vile war as the people in England ; 
 and if it is not soon put a stop to in England, I am in hopes 
 we shall take some strong measures against it here. Besides 
 its wickedness and injustice, it is the very height of folly and 
 madness, and at present there is much more likelihood of the 
 French getting to Amsterdam than the combined armies to 
 Paris. 
 
 " I hear there is a talk of a change here in the ministry ; 
 but I do not know any thing for certain. Leinster comes 
 here to-day, he will perhaps know something. It is said Pon- 
 sonby is to come in, and that there is to be a total removal 
 of all the old set, with an offer to all the Opposition. When 
 I see Leinster, I shall soon find how the wind sets in his quar- 
 ter. I trust, though, that he will be stout, and have nothing 
 to say to any of them. I know if he goes over, I shall not 
 go with him ; for my obstinacy or perseverance grows stronger 
 every day, and all the events that have passed, and are pass- 
 ing, but convince me more and more, that these two countries 
 must see very strong changes, and cannot come to good, un- 
 less they do. I won't bore you any more with politics, dear 
 mother, as I know you don't like them." 
 
 " 1794. 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 ^n ^^ ^^ T^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 " I ought to thank you for all your kind thoughts about 
 us, at this moment, — for your present of the requisites, which 
 really helped us a great deal, and which you were quite right 
 supposing we had not thouglit of. Pam is going on as well 
 as possible, strong, healthy, and in good spirits. We drive 
 and walk every day : she never thinks of what is to come, I 
 believe, or if she does, it is with great courage ; in short, I 
 never saw her, 1 think, in such good spirits. Seeing her thus 
 makes me so, and I feel happy, and look forward with good 
 hope. Thank God ! I generally see all things in the best 
 light. 
 
 " I had a delightful letter from the girls at Hastings, one 
 of the best letters I ever read, — so full of fun, wit, and hu- 
 mour, and every thing so well told. I have not answered it 
 yet, and am almost afraid, — mine must be so stupid : for I 
 confess Leinster House does not inspire the brightest ideas. 
 
124 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 By tlie by, what a melancholy house it is ; you can't conceive 
 how much it appeared so, when first we came from Kildare ; 
 but it is going off a little. A poor country housemaid I 
 brought with me cried for two days, and said she tliought she 
 was in a prison. Palm and I amuse ourselves a good deal by 
 walking about the streets, which, I believe, shocks poor ^ * 
 a little. Poor soul ! she is sometimes very low. 
 
 ^i* ^l' ^^ ^1' ^^ 
 
 jjx 'j^ 'T* 'T» '^ 
 
 " My little place will be charming next year ; this last 
 month and the present would require my being there ; but I 
 must take care of the little young plant that is coming, which 
 will give me great pleasure, I hope. Believe me, dearest, 
 best mother, your affectionate 
 
 " Edward." 
 
 "Dublin, October 20, 1794. 
 
 " The dear wife and baby go on as well as possible, I 
 think I need not tell you how happy I am ; it is a dear little 
 thing, and very pretty now, though at first it was quite the 
 contrary. I did not write to you the first night, as Emily had 
 done so. I wrote to M®. Sillery that night and to-day, and 
 shall write her an account every day till Pam is able to write 
 herself I wish I could show the baby to you all — dear mo- 
 ther, how you would love it ! Nothing is so delightful as to 
 see it in its dear mother's arms, with her sweet pale, dehcate 
 face, and the pretty look she gives it. 
 
 " By the by, dearest mother, I suppose you won't have any 
 objection to be its godmother, though I own I feel scrupulous, 
 as you were so kind to her about her lying-in clothes ; and I do 
 hate taking your poor guineas for such foolish nonsense ; but 
 still I like, as there are such things, that it should be you. 
 Charles Fox and Leinster are to be the godfathers. Pray ask 
 Charles Fox if he has any objection ? Good bye, dear moth- 
 er. I am going to play a game of chess : there is a Sir 
 George Shee here that plays very well : he and I play a good 
 deal. Bless you, dear mammy. Love to the dear girls. 
 
 " Yours, &c." 
 
 " Dublin, Nov. 4th, 1794. 
 " Thank God ! you are relieved from your anxiety for our 
 dear Lucy. She has had a bad attack, dear soul ; but I hope 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 125 
 
 now she will soon recover, and be better than ever, which was 
 the case after that fever she had once before at Boyle farm. 
 You have had a severe time of it, dear mother, but I hope 
 now you will be repaid by seeing her recover. 
 
 "I am sure it will be some comfort to you to hear that my 
 dear wife goes on charmingly ; a most excellent nurse, and the 
 little boy thriving. I do not see much likeness in him to any 
 body : he has Pam's chin, the eyes blue, but not like either 
 of ours. However, at present one cannot say much, as he 
 does not open them much. Pamela is to drive out the first 
 fine day, and in two or three days after that we go to Carton. 
 Little St. George and Edward are to be christened at the same 
 time. Thank you for standing godmother. How I long to 
 show you the little fellow ! and how I should like to be with 
 you now, my dear mother, to comfort you and keep up your 
 spirits, and occupy you a little by making you nurse my little 
 boy ! 
 
 " There is no news here about our lord-lieutenant, with 
 which people were occupied for so long a while. For one, I 
 was very indifferent about it ; and, if any thing, am glad Lord 
 Fitzwilliam does not come, as perhaps it may make some of 
 our Opposition act with more spirit and determination. I 
 think any people coming into the government of this country 
 at present will have a hard task of it. 
 
 " Your affectionate, &c." 
 
 "Duhlin, Nov. 11th, 1794. 
 
 " Our accounts of our dear Lucy to-day are very uncom- 
 fortable and distressing ; though I think not alarming, as it 
 is all the regular process of that kind of fever of which the 
 danger is over, though her re-establishment will be tedious. 
 But if the accounts are distressing to us, how much must you 
 suffer, who are a constant attendant on her, the dear soul ! 
 and who see all her sufferino-s, and all the chano-es of this tedi- 
 ous illness ! I do feel for you, my dearest mother, from my 
 heart, and for Oarilvie, and the dear 2:irls. 
 
 " I have been busy these last few days, preparing to go to 
 the country. I have sent off dear Pam and the baby to-day, 
 and follow to-morrow : they are both well — have been both 
 out walking. Pam gets strong, and the little fellow fat and 
 saucy : he has taken such a fancy for the candle, that it is 
 
126 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 almost impossible to make him sleep at night. A cradle he 
 don't like, and wants always to have his cheek on his mamma's 
 breast. He every day grows, I think, like me in his mouth 
 and nose ; but the eyes I don't yet make out. Dearest mo- 
 ther, I try to give you details of things that will interest you ; 
 and if our dear Lucy is better, I know they will. It is ter- 
 rible to have her thus : to have all that good-nature, softness, 
 and gaiety subdued by sickness goes to one's heart ; but I 
 hope, while I write this, she is better. My dear mother, I 
 should like to be with you, to comfort you and keep up your 
 spirits. 
 
 " Your affectionate, &c." 
 
 " Carton, K'ov. 25th, 1Y94. 
 
 " A thousand times I wish you joy of the great amendment 
 in our dearest Lucy's health. Your letter took quite a load 
 off my lieart ; for though I was not frightened after Mosely 
 and Warren said she was out of danger, yet the having her 
 still so ill and suffering made me very melancholy. Thank 
 God ! she is so much better, and of course, my dear mother, 
 so much easier. Pray thank my dear Ciss for her letters. I 
 will write in a day or two to her. 
 
 " We have been here a week. Pamela was not well for a 
 day, but it was only a little bilious attack, and a ride or two 
 on the pony quite put her right ; she is now going on per- 
 fectly well, walks every day, gains her strength and good 
 looks. The little fellow is delightful, improving every day, 
 takes his walks, and, in short, is every thing we could wish ; 
 he must be taken great notice of, spoken to, and danced, or 
 otherwise he is not at all pleased. We are to stay here 
 another week, then go to Castletown for a week, and return 
 here for the christening, which is to be the 8th of next month. 
 This keeps us ten days longer from home than we intended, 
 which I am sorry for ; but I did not like bringing the little 
 fellow down to Kildare, and then having to change him again 
 so soon as bringing him here on the 8th would have obliged 
 me to do. So 1 make up the time between Castletown and 
 this place ; though, to tell you the truth, longing to get home. 
 
 " My little place is much improved by a few things I have 
 done, and by all my planting ; — by the bye, I doubt if I told 
 you of my flower-garden, — I got a great deal from Frescati. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 127 
 
 I have been at Kildare since Pam's lying-in, and it looked 
 delightful, though all the leaves were ofif the trees, — but so 
 comfortable and snug. I think I shall pass a delightful win- 
 ter there, I have got two fine large clumps of turf, which 
 look both comfortable and pretty. I have paled in my little 
 flower-garden before my hall door, with a lath paling, like the 
 cottage, and stuck it full of roses, sweetbrier, honeysuckles, 
 and Spanish broom. I have got all my beds ready for my 
 flowers ; so you may guess how I long to be down to plant 
 them. The little fellow will be a great addition to the party. 
 I think when I am down there with Pam and child, of a 
 blustery evening, with a good turf fire, and a pleasant book, 
 — coming in, after seeing my poultry put up, my garden set- 
 tled, — flower-beds and plants covered, for fear of frost, — the 
 place looking comfortable, and taken care of, I shall be as 
 happy as possible ; and sure I am I shall regret nothing but 
 not being nearer my dearest mother, and her not being of our 
 party. It is, indeed, a drawback and a great one, our not 
 being more together. Dear Malvern ! how pleasant w^e were 
 there : you can't think how this time of year puts me in mind 
 of it. Love always your aflectionate son, 
 
 "E. F.'^ 
 
 In reading these simple, and, — to an almost feminine de- 
 gree, — fond letters, it is impossible not to feel how strange 
 and touching is the contrast, between those pictures of a 
 happy home which they so uuafl'ectedly exhilnt, and that dark 
 and troubled sea of conspiracy and revolt into which the ami- 
 able writer of them so soon afterwards plunged ; nor can we 
 easily bring ourselves to believe that the joyous tenant of this 
 little Lodge, the happy husbaad and father, dividing the day 
 between his child and his flowers, could be the same man who, 
 but a year or two after, placed himself at the head of rebel 
 myriads, negotiated on the frontiers of France for an alliance 
 against England, and but seldom laid down his head on his 
 pillow at night without a prospect of being summoned thence 
 to the scaffold or the field. The government that could drive 
 a man into such resistance — and there were hundreds equal to 
 him in goodness, if not in heroism, so driven, — is convicted by 
 this very result alone, without any further inquiry into its 
 history 
 
128 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Though his lordship had not, at this time, nor, indeed, for 
 a year or two after, connected himself with the United Irish 
 Association any further than by a common feeling in the 
 cause, yet that the government had seen reason, even thus 
 early, to suspect him of being implicated in the conspiracy 
 appears from a passage in the Report of the Secret Committee 
 in 1799, where, among the persons who, it is stated, had, so 
 early as the year 1794, rendered themselves obnoxious to such 
 a suspicion, the name of his lordship is included. 
 
 Besides the well known republican cast of his opinions, and 
 the complexion of the society he chiefly lived with, there was 
 also a circumstance that no doubt came to the knowledge of 
 those in authority, which may have had no small share iu 
 inducing this suspicion. At the beginning of 1793, soon after 
 the declaration of war against England, the ruling party in 
 France had despatched an agent to Ireland, for the purpose 
 of sounding and conferring with the chief leaders of the United 
 Irishmen, and offering the aid of French arms for the libera- 
 tion of their country. This emissary was the bearer of a letter 
 of introduction to Lord Edward, who, however, appears to 
 have done nothing more towards the object of his mission than 
 to make him known to Mr. Simon Butler, Mr. Bond,* and a 
 few others of the party, by whom his proposal was, after all, 
 so Httle countenanced that he returned, without effecting any 
 thing towards his purpose, to France. 
 
 Very different was the feeling with which a proposal of the 
 same kind was hailed, in the present year, after an increased 
 pressure of coercion had been for some time in operation upon 
 the people, and in proportion to the sullen tranquillity thus 
 enforced over the surface of the public mind was the condensed 
 purpose of revenge and ripeness for explosion underneath. 
 Nor was there a want, even then, of forewarning voices to 
 prognosticate the consequences of such a state of affairs ; and 
 
 * " Bond was a wholesale woollen draper who had acquired consid- 
 erable wealth in his business. Arthur O'Connor speaks of him as ' a 
 beloved friend whom he himself had brought into the undertaking,' 
 namely, into the Society of United Irishmen. His amiable manners, 
 extensive charities, and generous disposition, had endeared him to his 
 fellow-citizens of all parties. lie was convicted on Reynolds's evidence 
 and sentenced to be hanged, but was ultimately reprieved, and died 
 ehortl}' after of an apoplectic seizure in Xewgate." — Maddcn's United 
 Irishmen. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 129 
 
 Sir Lawrence Parsons, among others, in urging upon ministers 
 the necessity of 'oeing, at least, [)rej;ared for the event, told 
 them, with awful truth, that they " were sleeping on a vol- 
 cano." The person employed in this communication from 
 France was the Reverend William Jackson,* whose arrest 
 soon after his arrival, while it put a stop to the immediate 
 course of his mission, served its object in a way hardly less 
 important, by giving publicity to the purpose of his visit, and, 
 for the first time, acquainting the people of Ireland, from any 
 authentic source, that the eyes of France were upon them, and 
 that the same powerful arm which was now, with restored 
 strength and success, breaking asunder the chains of other 
 lands, might, before long, reach theirs. 
 
 It does not appear that Lord Edward was among the per- 
 sons whom Jackson, previous to his apprehension, conferred 
 with ; nor does Theobald Wolf Tone, who has given a detailed 
 account of the whole transaction, and was himself deeply im- 
 plicated in it, make any mention of his lordship's name. Evea 
 apart, however, from this negative evidence, we are fully war- 
 
 * In April 1Y94, another emissary arrived in Dublin, and shortly 
 after liis arrival was arrested. This gentleman Rev. "\Vm. Jackson, 
 brought witli him a letter of introduction to Lord Edward Fitzgerald; 
 that his mission was unexpected may be inferred from the fact that 
 Tone and qthers of the popular lenders at first, were disposed to be- 
 lieve he was an agent of the British government. In a copy of Em- 
 met and McNevin's " Pieces of Irish History,'' purchased at the sale of 
 Hamilton Rowan's Library, the following manuscript note in the hand- 
 writing of the latter, occurs at the bottoin of the page wliere mention 
 is made of Jackson's mission. — " Lord Edward Fitzgerald declined to 
 have any conversation with Jackson." — Madden's United Irishmen. 
 
 It was a whole year from the time of Jackson's arrest, before he 
 was brought to trial. Curran xmdertook his defence. 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. Tlie judges were too glad to have 
 difficulties removed in the wa}- of ready conviction, Jackson was con- 
 demned. On the da}' 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 
 gi'asp him with his damp and nerveless hand, uttered in a whisper 
 and with a smile of mournful triumph the dying words of Pierre, 
 " "We have deceived the senate." — Life of Curran. 
 
130 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ranted in concluding that he who, to the last, as is well known, 
 regarded French assistance with apprehension and jealousy, 
 must have been amono; the slowest and most reluctant to 
 sanction the first recurrence to it. His views, indeed, at the 
 outset, — as far as I have been able to collect from some of 
 his earliest friends, — did not extend so far as total separation 
 from England, Connected as he was, by blood, with that 
 country, and counting, as it proved, far too confidently on the 
 present dispositions of the English towards change and reform, 
 he looked, at first, rather to concert with them in the great 
 cause of freedom, than to any thing like schism, and would, at 
 the commencement of the struggle, have been contented with 
 such a result as should leave the liberties of both countries 
 regenerated and secured under one common head. This 
 moderation of purpose, however, gradually gave way, as the 
 hopes by which alone it could be sustained vanished. The 
 rejection of the motions of Mr. G rattan and Mr. Ponsonby 
 for Reform had shut out all expectation of redress from the 
 Irish government ; while the tameness with which England, 
 in her horror of Jacobinism, was, at this moment, crouching 
 under the iron rule of Mr. Pitt, gave as little hope of a better 
 order of things dawning from that quarter. 
 
 In the mean time, the United Irish Society of Dublin, whose 
 meetings hitherto had been held openly, were, under the sanc- 
 tion of one of the new coercive measures, dispersed, as illegal ; 
 and the whole body, thus debarred from the right of speaking 
 out, as citizens, passed naturally to the next step, of plottiiig 
 as conspirators. Even yet, however, it does not appear that 
 the last desperate expedient, of recurring to force or to foreign 
 aid, though urged eagerly by some, and long floating before 
 the eyes of all, had entered seriously into the contemplation 
 of those who were afterwards the chief leaders of the struggle ; 
 nor can there, indeed, be any stronger proof of the reluctance 
 with which these persons suffered themselves to be driven to 
 sucli extremities than the known fact that, at the commence- 
 ment of the year It 96, neither M'Nevin, nor Emmet, nor 
 Arthur O'Connor,* nor Lord Edward Fitzgerald, had yet 
 joined the ranks of the United Irishmen. 
 
 * "My old friend Arthur O'Connor, is, I am happy to say, not only 
 alive, but actively engaged in the preparation of memoirs of his long 
 and eventful life. He -will tell his own tale, but I cannot write his 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. Ii5l 
 
 But a juncture was now at hand when, in the minds of all 
 embarked in the cause, there could no longer remain a doubt 
 that the moment had arrived when between unconditional 
 submission and resistance lay their only choice, and when he 
 who thought the rights they struggled for worth such a risk 
 must " set his life on the cast,"' as there was no longer any 
 other chance of attaining them. The recall of Lord Fitz- 
 william was the event which, at once, brought the struggle to 
 this crisis ; and never, assuredly, was there a more insulting 
 breach of faith flung deliberately in the face of a whole people. 
 As if to render still more mischievous the disappointment that 
 was about to be excited, all the preliminaries of the great 
 measure of justice now announced to the Catholics were 
 allowed to be proceeded in ; nor was it till Mr. Grattan, 
 under the full sanction of government, and with hardly a mur- 
 mur of dissatisfaction from any part of the country, had ob- 
 tained leave to bring in a Bill for the complete enfranchise- 
 ment of the Roman Catholics, that the British minister 
 stretched forth his hand and dashed the cup from their lips. 
 In vain did Lord Fitzwilliam set forth the danger, — and he 
 might have added, perfidy, — of now retracting the boon, and 
 declare that *' he, at least, would not be the person to raise a 
 flame which nothing but the force of arms could put down." 
 The dark destiny of Ireland, as usual, triumphed : — with the 
 choice before them of either conciliating the people or lashing 
 them up into rebellion, the British Cabinet chose the latter 
 
 name upon the same page with that of Edward Fitzgerald without 
 reflecting upon the peculiar character of the national movement of 
 whicli tliese two men were types as well as leaders. In casting their 
 lot with those who desired to reform and regenerate their country, 
 and who in pursuit of that end went the extreme length of treason, 
 botli O'Connor and Fitzgerald proved their sincerit}' by putting in 
 jeopardy the most enviable positions which men could attain to in Irish 
 Society. To both, the road to high station and wealth was open, both 
 unhesitatingly struck off into a narrower path that seemed to lead 
 them towards the good service of Ireland, but that eventually con- 
 ducted the one to exile and disinheritance, and the other to a violent 
 death. Arthur O'Connor would have inherited the estate, and, in all 
 probability, the title of his uncle. Lord Longueville, whose borough 
 he represented in parliament had he followed his Lordship in sup- 
 porting the government; his sincere conviction was, that to do so 
 would be to oppose the cause of his country, and he acted in accord- 
 ance with that conviction." — Pergonal Recollections of Lord Cloncurry. 
 
132 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 course,* and Lord Fitzwilliam was, in an evil hour, replaced 
 by Lord Camden. 
 
 The natural effect of this change was to reinforce instantly 
 the ranks of the Unfted Irishmen with all that mass of discon- 
 tent generated by such a defiance of the public will ; and we 
 have it on the authority of the chief rebel leaders themselves, 
 that out of the despair and disgust of this moment arose an 
 immediate and immense accession of strength to their cause. 
 Nor was it only in the increased number of the malcontents 
 that the operation of this policy showed itself, but in the more 
 daring extension of their plans and elevation of their aims. 
 The Protestant reformer, whom a Democratic House of Com- 
 mons f and the Emancipation of his Catholic countrymen 
 
 * That a Union was the ultimate object of this policy, the Duke of 
 Portland at the time clearly avowed, declaring it as his opinion, in 
 recommending Lord Fitzwilliam to retrace his steps on the Catholic 
 question, that " it would be a means of doing a greater good to the 
 British empire than it had been capable of receiving since the Revo- 
 lution, or, at least, since the Unioti." With respect to the means 
 through which they had made up their minds to wade to this meas- 
 ure, though not avowed at first, the design was, at a later period, ac- 
 knowledged witliout scruple. " It has been said," remarked Mi\ Grat- 
 tan, in his speech on the subject of General Lake's proclamation, " that 
 it were better the people should proceed to violence ; nay, it has been 
 said, in so many words, ' It were to be wished they did rebel.' Good 
 God! — wished they would rebel! Here is the system and the princi- 
 ple of the system. From corruption to coercion, and so on to military 
 execution, accompanied with a declaration that it were to be wished 
 the people would go into rebellion! " The avowal, too, of Lord Cas- 
 tlereagh, in his examination of Dr. M'Nevin before the Secret Com- 
 mittee, that " means were taken to make the United Irish system explode,^^ 
 is no less exclusive evidence of the same disgraceful fact. 
 
 f " We thought," said Dr. M'Nevin, " one aristocratic body in the 
 state sufficient." It must be owned, however, that with such a sj'steni 
 of representation as was proposed by the United Irishmen, no monar- 
 chy could go on. The following are some of the general provisions of 
 their plan : 
 
 " That the nation, for the purpose of representation solely, should 
 be divided into three Inindred electorates, formed by a combination 
 of parishes, and as nearly as possible equal in point of population. 
 
 " That each electorate should return one member to Parliament. 
 
 " That ever}^ male of sound mind, who lias attained the age of 21 
 years, and actually dwelt or maintained a family establishment in any 
 electorate for six months of the twelve immediately previous to the 
 commencement of the election (provided his residence, or maintaining 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 133 
 
 would once have satisfied, now driven to take a more advanced 
 position in his demands, saw, with the Presbyterian, no chance 
 but in separation and a Republic ; while the Catholic, hitherto 
 kept loyal by the sort of "gratitude that is felt for favours to 
 come," and, between his new hopes and his old resentments, 
 being, as it were, half courtier and half rebel, now baffled and 
 insulted, threw his strength into the confederacy, — prepared 
 doubly for mischief both by what had been given and what 
 had been refused, the former arming him with power, and the 
 latter leaving him revenge. 
 
 Having traced thus far, as compendiously as my subject 
 would admit of, the course of that rash and headlong current 
 of events which marks this whole period of Irish history, and 
 which could not otherwise than lead to the catastrophe we are 
 now approaching, I shall, through the short remainder of my 
 story, confine myself, as much as possible, to those public 
 occurrences more immediately connected with Lord Edward 
 himself, and with the part taken by him in that deep-laid and 
 formidable conspiracy with which, about the period we have 
 now reached, he, for the first time, connected himself ; — a 
 conspiracy which, however judgments may vary as to the 
 justifiableness of its grounds or aims, can admit, I think, but 
 of one opinion with respect to the sagacious daring with which 
 it was planned, and the perseverance, fidelity, and all but suc- 
 cess, with which it was conducted. 
 
 From any great insight into the details of his private life 
 we are henceforth shut out ; as, from the moment he found 
 himself embarked in so perilous an enterprise, he, as a matter 
 of conscience, abstained from much communication with his 
 family, feeling it to be quite a sufficient infliction to keep them 
 in alarm for his safety, without also drawing upon them sus- 
 picions that might endanger their own. After his arrival from 
 England, he, for a short time, Hved in some degree of style, 
 
 a family establishment be duly registered), should be entitled to vote 
 for the representative of the electorate. 
 
 *' That the votes of all electors should be given by voice, and not 
 by ballot. 
 
 " That no property qualification should be necessary to entitle any 
 man to be a representative. 
 
 " That representatives should receive a reasonable stipend for their 
 services. 
 
 " That Parliament should be annual." 
 
134 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 keeping a fine stud of horses, and, as I have been told, dis- 
 playing the first specimen of that sort of carriage, called a cur- 
 ricle, which had j'^et appeared in Dublin. On his removal, 
 however, to the little Lodge at Kildare, he reduced his estab- 
 lishment considerably ; and small as was his income, — never, 
 I believe, exceeding eight hundred a year, — it would have 
 been for a person of his retired habits and temperate wants, 
 amply sufficient. But the engrossing object that now engaged 
 him — to which safety, peace of mind, and, at last, life was 
 sacrificed, — absorbed likewise all his means ; the advances he 
 found it necessary to make for the exigencies of the cause not 
 only drawing upon his present resources, but also forcing him 
 to raise supplies by loans with which his property was left 
 encumbered. 
 
 It was about this time that there took place on the Curragh 
 of Kildare, a well-known rencontre between his lordship and 
 some dragoon officers, which, — like most other well-known 
 anecdotes that the biographer has to inquire into, — receives 
 from every new relater a wholly different form. The follow- 
 ing, however, are, as nearly as possible, the real circumstances 
 of the transaction. Mr, Arthur O'Connor* being, at that 
 time, on a visit to his noble friend, thev rode together, on one 
 of the days of the races, to the Curragh, — Lord Edward 
 having a green silk handkerchief round his neck. It was 
 indeed his practice, at all times (contrary to the usual custom 
 of that day), to wear a coloured silk neckcloth, — generally of 
 
 * It is (1854) two years since a friend in Paris advised me of thfe 
 death of General Arthur Condorcet O'Connor, in the ninety-ninth 
 year of his age. The same friend assured me the General had com- 
 pleted in live volumes his "Life and Times." and left them with his 
 wife fur publication, and that she had taken them to Switzerland. On 
 receiving this information, I ordered through a Bookseller here a copy 
 of the work so soon as published in Europe, well knowing the supe- 
 rior opportunities and talents of the writer, and that he was intimately 
 acquainted with all the relations, intercourse, and negociations which 
 had taken place between the Avould-be Irish rebels and the Govern- 
 ment of France, To my extreme disappointment, regret and mortiti- 
 cation, ni\' order was returned to the Bookseller with the information 
 that, Mrs. General O'Connor had printed the work in Dublin, that the 
 Goverment had seized the whole edition and supj)ressed the publica- 
 tion. I am unable to say whether a copy printed or manuscript re- 
 mains in possession of the relations or friends of the deceased. — Life 
 of John Binns. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, 135 
 
 that pattern which now bears the name of Belcher ; but, on 
 the present occasion, he chose to wear the national, and, at 
 that time, obnoxious colour, green. 
 
 At the end of the race, having left the stand-house, in a 
 canter, to return home, the two friends had not proceeded far 
 before they found themselves overtaken by a party of from ten 
 to a dozen officers, who, riding past them in full gallop, wheeled 
 round, so as to obstruct their passage, and demanded that 
 Lord Edward should take off his green cravat. Thus ac- 
 costed, his lordship answered coolly, — '' Your cloth would 
 speak you to be gentlemen ; but this conduct conveys a very 
 different impression. As to this neckcloth that so offends 
 you, all I can say is, — here I stand ; let any man among you, 
 who dares, come forward and take it off." This speech, pro- 
 nounced calmly and deliberately, took his pursuers by sur- 
 prise ; and for a moment they look puzzled at each other, 
 doubtful how to proceed ; when Mr. O'Connor, interposing, 
 said, that if the officers chose to appoint two out of their 
 number. Lord Edward and himself would be found, ready to 
 attend their summons, at Kildare. The parties then sepa- 
 rated, and during the two following days, Lord Edward and 
 his friend waited the expected message. But no further steps 
 were taken by these military gentlemen, on whose conduct 
 rather a sigrificant verdict was passed at a Curragh ball, 
 shortly after, «vhen it was agreed, as I have heard, by all the 
 ladies in thr zoom not to accept any of them as partners. 
 
 It woul(^ tppear to have been about the beginning of 1T96 
 that Lor(^ Edward first entered into the Societv of United 
 L'ishmen. That he went throu2:h the usual form of initiation 
 by an oath is not, I think, })robable ; for, as in the case of 
 Mr. Arthur O'Connor, they dispensed with this condition, it is 
 to be concluded that the same tribute to the high honour and 
 trust-worthiness of their iniatiate would be accorded also to 
 Lord Edward. In the preceding year, as has been already 
 mentioned, a great change had taken place both in the spirit 
 and frame-work of the system of Union ; — or, rather, an en- 
 tirely new system was at that time constructed, on such 
 remains of the old society as had, in the north and elsewhere, 
 survived the operation of the Convention Act. The secrecy 
 with which they were now obliged to invest their meetings 
 made it necessary to add the solemn obligation of an oath to 
 
136 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the simple Test which had hitherto bound them together ; 
 while an equally significant change was the omission of certain 
 words, from that Test, which had seemed to limit their views 
 to a Reform " z?i Farlimunlp The oath, as at present framed, 
 pledged every member " to persevere in his endeavours to obtain 
 an equal, full, and adequate representation of all the people 
 of Ireland," — thus leaving free scope for those more extended 
 projects of change which no less their confidence in themselves 
 than their despair of their rulers now suggested to them. The 
 system, as hitherto constituted, had consisted but of individual 
 societies, communicating with each other by delegates ; nor 
 had they, before this time, carried their organization any far- 
 ther than to the appointment of a Committee for the county 
 of Antrim which acted, occasionally, as Executive. 
 
 On the remodelling, however, of the association, in 1795, 
 the new impulse given to its principle by the recall of Lord 
 Fitzwilliam, and the consequent increase of its numbers, called 
 for a plan of organization more commensurate with the advance 
 of the cause ; and, for all the purposes, as well of secrecy, as 
 of concert and uniformity of action, it would be diSicult, per- 
 haps, to devise a plan more efficient than that which they 
 adopted. In order 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, of 
 the same street or neighbourhood. By each of these societies 
 of twelve, a secretary was chosen, and the secretaries of five 
 such societies formed a Committee, called the Lower Baronial. 
 The next step in the scale was called the Upper Baronial 
 Committee, to constitute which ten Lower Barouials sent each 
 a member ; and above this rose again the District or County 
 Committee, composed of one member chosen from each Upper 
 Baronial. 
 
 Having provided, by these successive layers, as it were, of 
 delegated authority, — each exercising a superintendence over 
 that immediately below it, — for the organization of the seve- 
 ral 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 consisted of five persons, chosen 
 in such a manner from the Provincial Committees as to leave 
 
LORD EDWARD is-ITZGERALD, 13 1 
 
 the members of the latter in entire ignorance as to the indi- 
 viduals selected. Over the whole body thus organized, the 
 Executive possessed full command, and could transmit its 
 orders with but little risk through the whole range of the 
 Union, — one member of the Executive communicating them 
 to one member of the Provincial Committee, and he again 
 to the secretary of the County Committee, who, in like man- 
 ner, passed them down through the secretaries of the Baroni- 
 als, and these on to the secretaries of the subordinate socie- 
 ties. 
 
 The facility with which it was found that this plan, thougli 
 designed, at first, for a purely civil organization, could be 
 transferred, without change of its structure, to military pur- 
 poses rendered it a doubly formidable engine in the hands that 
 now directed it. The secretary of each subordinate society 
 of twelve was transformed easily into a sergeant or corporal ; 
 the delegate of five societies to a Lower Baronial became a 
 captain with sixty men under his command, and the delegate 
 of ten Lower Baronials to a County or District Committee 
 took rank as a colonel at the head of a battalion of six hun- 
 dred men. 
 
 Though there had been, from time to time, since the break- 
 ing out of the war with France, attempts made by individu- 
 als who passed secretly between the two countries to bring 
 abo'tit an understanding between the United Irishmen and the 
 French Directory, it was not till early in the year 1T9G that 
 any regular negotiation was entered into for that purpose : 
 and the person who then took upon himself the office, — an 
 office, unluckily not new in diplomacy, — of representing the 
 grievances of Ireland at the court of England's enemy, was 
 Theobald Wolfe Tone, the banished Secretarv of the Catholic 
 Committee, who had, early in the year, sailed from America 
 to France on this mission, and whose Diary of the whole 
 course of his negotiations has been some time before the pub- 
 lic. To this book I must refer the reader for particulars, ad- 
 ding only my opinion, that there are few works, whether for 
 the matter or the manner, more interesting- ; — the character 
 of the writer himself 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 contem- 
 plate a mission pregnant with such consequences, is for ever 
 
138 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 relieved by those alternate flashes of humour and sentiment 
 with which only a temperament so national could have enliv- 
 ened or softened such details. The whole storv, too, is full of 
 ominous warning to Great Britain, as showing how fearfully 
 dependent upon winds and waves may, even yet, be her physi- 
 cal hold upon Ireland, unless timely secured by those moral 
 ties which good government can alone establish between a 
 people and their rulers. 
 
 In consequence of Tone's representations of the state of 
 feeling in Ireland, confirmed and enforced bv more recent in- 
 telligence, it was, in the spring of the present year, intimated 
 to the persons then directing the Irish Union,* that the French 
 government were disposed to assist them, by an invasion of 
 Ireland, in their plan of casting off the English yoke and 
 establishing a Republic, Having taken this proj)Osal seriously 
 into consideration, the Irish Executive returned for answer 
 that " they accepted the offer, on condition that the French 
 would come as allies only, and consent to act under the direc- 
 tion of the new government, as Rochambean did in America ; 
 — that, upon the same principle, the expenses of the expedi- 
 tion must be reimbursed, and the troops, while acting in Ire- 
 land, receive Irish pay." This answer was despatched to 
 Paris by a special messenger, who returned with the Direc- 
 tory's full assent to the terms, and a promise that the proffer- 
 ed succours should be sent without delay. 
 
 After tracing, as I have done briefly, some few pages back, 
 the progress of Ireland's struggles for Emancipation and Re- 
 form down to the period when all moderation was evidently 
 cast off by both parties, and a course of warfare commenced 
 between the State and the people, it was my intention, as I 
 have there stated, not to enter into any of those further mea- 
 sures of the government which were, in fact, but a continu- 
 ation of the same system of coercion they had begun, only 
 increasino", with each new turn of the screw, the intensitv of 
 the pressure. A Bill, however, brought in this session,' — the 
 memorable Insurrection Act, — must, from the part Lord Ed- 
 
 * The new system of organization had not, a? yet, been carried into 
 complete effect any where but in Ulster, the Executive Committee of 
 which province, holding its sittings at Belfast, managed at this time 
 the interests of the whole Union. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 139 
 
 ward took in its discussion, receive a passing notice. In 
 opposing (Feb. 2d) one of the Resolutions on which the Bill 
 was to be founded, his lordship declared it to be his opinion, 
 that " nothing would tranquillize the country but the sincere 
 endeavour of the goverment to redress the grievances of the 
 people. If that was done, the people would return to their 
 allegiance ; — if not, he feared that neither Resolutions nor 
 Bills would be of any avail." * 
 
 In order to settle all the details of their late agreement 
 with France, and, in fact, enter into a formal treaty with the 
 French Directory, it was thought of importance, by the Unit- 
 ed Irishmen, to send some agent, whose station and character 
 should, in the eyes of their new allies, lend weight to his mis- 
 sion ; and to Lord Edward Fitzgerald, the no less delicate 
 than daring task was assigned. It being thought desirable,, 
 too, that he should have the aid, in his negotiations, of the 
 brilliant talents and popular name of Mr. Arthur O'Connor, 
 they requested likewise the services of that gentleman, who 
 consented readilv to act in concert with his friend. 
 
 About the latter end of May, accompanied only by his 
 lady, who was then not far from the period of her confine- 
 ment. Lord Edward set out from Dublin on his perilous em- 
 
 * The language of others (who, however, luckily for themselves, 
 went i!0 farther than language — who " spoke daggers, hut used none") 
 was yet more strong. ]\Ir. Ponsoiiby dechared that the Insurrection 
 Bill, if continued, would be the grave of the Constitution. Sir Law- 
 rence Parsons, in speaking of the clause against persons selling sedi- 
 tious papers, said, '* that if the most arbitrary spirits through the 
 whole kingdom had been brought together, with the most studious 
 selection, to compose an arbitrary law against the liberty of the press, 
 they could scarcely have devised any thing more destructive than 
 this : — and yet this was but a subordinate part of the present Bill." 
 ilr. Duquerry, at a later period of the year, accused the ministers of 
 "goading the people to resistance;" and Mr. Grattan, in adverting to 
 an assertion of Mr. Secretary Pelham, '• that the exclusion of Catho- 
 lics from the parliament and the state was necessary fur the crown 
 and the connexion," said, "Eternal and indefeasible proscription! de- 
 nounced b\' a minister of the crown against three-fourths of his Majes- 
 ty's subjects But, the member may rely on it. the Catholic. — ■ 
 
 the Irish will not long submit to such an interdict; they will not suf- 
 fer a stranger to tell us on what proud terms English government 
 will consent to rule in Ireland, still less to pronounce and dictate the 
 incapacity of the natives as the terms of her dominion, and the base 
 condition of our connexion and allegiauco." 200 
 
140 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 bassy, — passing a day or two in London, on his way, and, as 
 I have been informed by a gentleman who was of the party, 
 dining, on one of those days at the honse of Lord * * * * ^ 
 where the company consisted of Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and 
 several other distinguished Whigs, — all persons who had been 
 known to concur warmly in every step of the popular cause 
 in Ireland, and to whom, if Lord Edward did not give some 
 intimation of the object of his present journey, such an effort 
 of reserve and secrecy was, I must say, very unusual in his 
 character. From London his lordship proceeded to Ham- 
 burgh, and had already begun to treat with Rheynhart, the 
 French agent at that place, when he was joined there by Mr. 
 O'Connor. Seeing reason, however, to have some doubts of 
 the trust-worthiness of this person, they discontinued their 
 negotiation with him, and, leaving Lady Edward at Ham- 
 burgh, proceeded together to Basle, where, through the medi- 
 um of the agent Barthelomew, they opened their negotiation 
 with the French Directory. 
 
 It was now known that General Hoche, the late conqueror 
 and pacificator of La Yendee, was the officer appointed to 
 take the command of the expedition to Ireland ; and the 
 great advantage of holding personal communication, _ on the 
 subject, with an individual on whom the destinies of their 
 country so much depended, was fully appreciated by both 
 friends. After a month's stay at Basle, however, it was signi- 
 fied to them that to Mr. O'Connor alone would it be permit- 
 ted to meet Hoche as a negotiator, — the French Government 
 having objected to receive Lord Edward, " lest the idea should 
 get abroad, from his being married to Pamela, that his mission 
 had some reference to the Orleans family." Independently of 
 this curious objection, it appears to have been strongly im- 
 pressed upon Lord Edward by some of his warmest friends 
 that he should, on no account, suffer his zeal in the cause to 
 induce him to pass the borders of the French territory. 
 
 Leaving to Mr. O'Connor, therefore, the management of 
 their treaty with Hoche, whom the French Directory had in- 
 vested with full powers for the purpose. Lord Edward return- 
 ed to Hamburgh, — having, unluckily, for a travelling compa- 
 nion, during the greater part of the journey, a foreign lady 
 who had been once the mistress of an old friend and official 
 colleague of Mr. Pitt, and who was still in the habit of cor- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 141 
 
 responding with her former protector. Wholly ignorant of 
 these circumstances, Lord Edward, with the habitual frank- 
 ness of his nature, not only expressed freely his opinions on all 
 political subjects, but afforded some clues, it is said, to the 
 secret of his present journey, which his fellow-traveller was, 
 of couse, not slow in transmitting to her official friend. 
 
 After his interview with Mr. O'Connor, Hoche hastened, 
 with all privacy, to Paris, to inform the Directory of the re- 
 sult ; and the zeal with which his own ambitious spirit had 
 already taken up the cause being still more quickened by the 
 representations of the state of Ireland he had just received, 
 an increased earnestness and activity were soon visible in every 
 branch of the preparations for the expedition. It was at this 
 time that the indefatigable Tone first saw the destined leader 
 of that enterprise which had, for so long a time, been the 
 subject of all his thoughts and dreams, — that Avatar to which 
 he had so long looked for the liberation of his country, and 
 which was now, as he thought, to be accomplished in the per- 
 son of this Chief The conversations that passed between 
 them are detailed in Tone's Diarv : and it is not unamusino; 
 to observe how diplomatically the young general managed to 
 draw from Tone all that he knew or thought, concerning Lord 
 Edward and Mr. O'Connor, without, in the least degree, be- 
 travino^ his own recent neorotiation with them. " Hoche then 
 asked me (says Tone), 'did I know Arthur O'Connor?' I 
 replied, ' I did, and that I entertained the highest opinion of 
 his talents, principles, and patriotism.' He asked me, ' Did 
 he not some time ago make an explosion in the Irish Parlia- 
 ment ? ' I replied, ' He made the ablest and honestest speech, 
 to my mind, that was ever made in that House.' ' Well,' said 
 he, * will he join us ? ' I answered, ' I hoped, as he was fon- 
 ciercment Irlandais, that he undoubtedly would.' Hoche then 
 went on to say, ' There is a Lord in your country (I was a 
 little surprised at this beginning, knowing, as I do, what stuff" 
 our Irish peers are made of), — he is a son to a Duke ; is he 
 not a patriot ? ' I immediately recognized my friend Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald, and gave Hoche a very good account of 
 him." 
 
 Hoche had pledged himself that, in the course of the au- 
 tumn, the expedition should sail ; and, as far as the military 
 part of the preparations was concerned, it appears that in the 
 
142 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 month of September all was ready. But, from Yarious delays 
 and difficulties, interposed chiefly by the Department of the 
 Marine, it was not till the 15th of December that this noble 
 armament sailed from Brest, consisting of IT sail of the line, 
 13 frigates, and an equal number of transports, making in all, 
 43 sail, and having on board an army of near 15,000 men. 
 
 It was the opinion of Xapoleon, as recorded somewhere in 
 his Conversations, that, had Hoche landed with this fine army 
 in Ireland, he would have been successful : and, taking into 
 account the utterly defenceless state of that country at the 
 moment, as well as the certainty that an immense proportion 
 of the population would have declared for the invaders, it is 
 not too much to assert that such would, in all probability, have 
 been the result. For six days, during which the shattered 
 remains of their fleet lay tossing within sight of the Irish 
 shore, not a single British ship of war made its appearance ; 
 and it was also asserted, without being met by any contradic- 
 tion, in the House of Commons, that such was the unprotected 
 state of the South, at that moment, that, had but 5,000 men 
 been landed at Bantry,* Cork must have fallen. 
 
 But while, in all that depended upon the foresight and 
 watchfulness of their enemy, free course was left to the in- 
 vaders, both by sea and land, in every other point of view 
 such a concurrence of adverse accidents, such a combination 
 
 * There were, after this event, batteries erected at Bantry ; but, 
 owing to the great extent of the bay, it appears that no batteries, 
 without the aid of a considerable force, could prevent a landing at 
 this point. It was the opinion of Sir Ralph Abercrombie that the 
 Shannon and Galway were the most assaihxble parts of the islaiid ; and 
 the same opinion, as regards Galway. had been before advanced in a 
 curious pamphlet " On the Defence of Ireland " (by Colonel Keating, 
 1 believe), published in 1795. " Of the many parts," sa^'s this writei-, 
 " of the island where landing in great force is possible, Galway is the 
 most practicable, because the navigation is most favourable, as also 
 that, the enemy should keep us longer in suspense as to his real point 
 of attack ; besides the p.iculiar advantages that bay offers, the excel- 
 lent posts its shores afford, and the peculiar facility with Avhich an 
 advance into, and conquest of, first the province of Connaught, and 
 subsequently of the whole kingdom might be effected." 
 
 Dr. Mac^sevin, in his Memoir laid before the French Directory, re- 
 commended Oyster Haven, as the best place of debarkation in the 
 South, and Lough Swilly in the North. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 143 
 
 of all that is most thwarting in fortune and in the elements, no 
 expedition, since the Armada, had ever been doomed to en- 
 counter. Not to mention the various difficulties that for near 
 a month delayed their embarkation, during the whole of wliich 
 time the wind blew direct for Ireland, on the very first night 
 of their departure a seventy-four of the squadron struck upon 
 the rocks and was lost ; and, at the same time, the frigate La 
 Fraternite, on board which, by an inexplicably absurd ar- 
 rangement, were both the General in Chief of the Army and 
 the Admiral, was separated from the rest of the squadron, and 
 saw no more of them till their return to Brest. To the inaus- 
 piciousness of this commencement, every succeeding day 
 added some new difficulty, till, at length, after having been no 
 less than four times dispersed by fogs and foul weather, the 
 remains of the armament found themselves off Bantry Bay, 
 the object of their destination, reduced from 43 sail to 16, and 
 with but 6,500 fighting men on board. 
 
 Even then had some more daring spirit presided over their 
 movements,"^ a landing with the force that remained would 
 have been hazarded, and, considering the unguarded state of 
 the countrv, at the moment, with everv chance of success. 
 Fortunately, however, for the rulers of Ireland, General 
 Grouchy, who had succeeded Hoche in the command, hesitated 
 at such a responsibility ;f and, after a day or two lost in idly 
 cruising off the Bay, such a tremendous gale set in, right from 
 shore, as rendered a landing impracticable, and again scat- 
 tered them over the waters. Nothing was left, therefore, but 
 to return, how they could, to France ; and, of all this for- 
 midable armament, but four ships of the line, two frigates and 
 one lugger, arrived together at Brest : while Hoche himself, 
 who, in setting out, had counted so confidently on the success 
 of the expedition, that one of his last acts had been to urge 
 
 * "Si, du moins la presence d'esprit des commandans secondairos 
 poiivait suppleer a I'abseuce du Chef. Mais non ; el yignes de Hoche, 
 ils semblent avoir perdu toutes leurs facultes." — Vie de Lazare Hoche. 
 
 f At this anxious moment, Tone, who was on board, writes in his 
 Diary, — " At half after one, the Atalante, one of our missing corvettes, 
 hove in sight, so now again we are in hopes to see the General. Oh, 
 if he were in Grouchy's place, he would not hesitate one moment" 
 
144 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 on the Directory the speedy outfit of a second,* found liimself 
 obliged, after an equally fruitless visit to Bantry Bay, to make 
 his way back to France, not having seen a single sail of his 
 scattered fleet the whole time, and being at last indebted to a 
 small chaloupe for putting him on shore, in the middle of the 
 night, about a league from La Rochelle. 
 
 This narrow escape, not alone of invasion, but, perhaps, 
 actual conquest, for which Ireland was now indebted to chance 
 and the elements, would, if read aright, have proved a vrarn- 
 ing, as useful as it was awful, to each of the two parties on 
 whose heads rested the responsibility of having drawn down on 
 their country so fearful a visitation. That confidence in the 
 inviolability of their shores which the people of the British 
 isles had, under the guardianship of their navy, being so long 
 accustomed to indulge, was now startled from its security by 
 the incontestable fact, that, with two British fleets in the 
 Channel, and an Admiral stationed at Cork, the coasts of Ire- 
 land had been, a whole fortnight, at the mercy of the enemy. 
 With such a proof before their eyes of the formidable facility 
 with which the avenger could appear at the call of the 
 w^ronged, it was, even yet, not too late for the government to 
 pause in the harsh system which they had adopted, — to try 
 whether concession might not make friends of those whom 
 force could hardly keep subjects, and thus disarm of its worst 
 terrors the enemy, from witiiout, by depriving him of his alli- 
 ance with the malcontent within. 
 
 On the other hand, that large portion of the nation, so long 
 at issue with their rulers, whose impatience under insults and 
 wrongs, — some of them of the date of centuries, — had thus 
 driven them to seek the arbitrement of a foreign sword, could 
 not but see, in the very shape which this interposition had 
 assumed, enough to alarm them as to the possible consequences 
 of the alternative they had chosen. Instead of the limited 
 force which they had asked — a limitation which Lord Edward, 
 among others, would have made the condition of their accept- 
 ing any aid whatever, — they saw a powerful armament sent 
 
 * "Sa clerniere pensee, en quittant la terre, est toute remplie deja 
 dii desir de la secoade expedition, — tant il est sur du sncces de la pre- 
 miere. Sa derniere parole au Direetoire est pour reeommander a sa 
 solicitude le second depart." — Vie de Hoche. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 145 
 
 forth, under one of the Republic's most aspiring generals, — 
 one equal to Napoleon himself in ambition and daring, and 
 second only to him in the endowments that ensure to these 
 qualities, success ; nor could those among them, who sought 
 singly and sincerely the independence of their country, refrain 
 from harbouring some fear, that auxiliaries thus presenting 
 themselves came not so much to befriend a part of the popu- 
 lation as to make conquest of the whole. 
 
 Such were the considerations and warnings which must now 
 have occurred to the minds of thiniving men of both parties, 
 and which ought to have disposed them earnestly to avail 
 themselves of whatever sense of their common danger had 
 been awakened, to bring about such a compromise of their dif- 
 ferences as should benefit alike both the governing and the 
 governed, and by making the people more free render the 
 throne more secure. And it is to the honour of those whose 
 cause, however mixed up with a '' worser spirit," was still 
 essentially the great cause of freedom and tolerance,"^ and had 
 on its side the inextinguishable claims of right against wrong, 
 that by them alone were any steps, at this juncture, taken 
 towards such a reconcilement of the State and the People to 
 each other. After the failure of the expedition, the chief 
 leaders of the United Irishmen, acting, no doubt, upon such 
 views of the crisis as I have above supposed, held a commu- 
 nication with the principal members of Opposition in Parlia- 
 ment, and professed their readiness to co-operate in affording the 
 government one more chance of reclaiming, even yet, the alle- 
 giance of the people, by consenting to even so modified a mea- 
 sure of Reform as their legitimate Representatives in Parlia- 
 ment might think it prudent to propose. 
 
 A Bill to this effect was, in consequence, prepared by Mr. 
 Ponsonby,y and we have it on the authority of the rebel 
 
 * In conversing once with Mr. Flood on the subject of the civil war 
 between Charles I. and his people, Lord Chatham said, "There was 
 mixed with the public cause, in that struggle, ambition, sedition, and 
 A'iolence ; but no man will persuade me that it was not the cause of 
 liberty on one side and of tyranny on the other." Tlie same may be 
 said, with no less truth, of the striiggle in Ireland at this period. 
 
 f The leading features of this plan of Reform are contained in the 
 following resolutions : 
 
 " That it is indispensably necessary to a fundamental Reform of the 
 Representation that all disabilities, on account of religion, be for evev 
 
146 IfEMOIRS OF 
 
 leaders engaged in the transaction, that "if, in the course of 
 that effort for Reform, it had not become evident that success 
 was hopeless, it was the wish of many among them, and they 
 believed the Executive would have gladly embraced the oppor- 
 tiiuity, to decline holding any further intercourse with France, 
 except sending a messenger there to tell them that the dilfer- 
 ence between the government and the people had been ad- 
 justed, and that they would have no business a second time 
 to attempt a landing."* 
 
 I have dwelt thus long on the circumstances connected with 
 this first attempt at invasion, both on account of the share 
 taken by Lord Edward in the negotiations which led to it, 
 and because the hope of a reconciliation that then so fleetingly 
 presented itself afforded a brief resting-place whereon we might 
 pause and contemplate the relative positions of the two parties 
 engaged in the struggle. It was soon seen that all hopes of a 
 change of policy in the government, except from bad to worse, 
 w^ere utterly fallacious. Whether conciliatory measures might 
 yet have averted the conflict must be a question of mere con- 
 jecture ; but that the reverse system drove the country into 
 rebellion, and nearly severed it from England, has become 
 matter of history. In the train of the insurrection Act and 
 
 abolished, and that Catholics shall be admitted into the legislature, 
 and ail the great offices of state, in the same extent, <fec. as Protestants 
 now are. 
 
 '• Tliat it is the indispensable right of the people of Ireland to be 
 fully and fairl}' represented in Parliament. 
 
 " That, in order that the people ma}' be fully enabled to exercise 
 that right, the privilege of returning members for cities, boroughs, etc. 
 in the present form, shall cease ; that each county be divided into dis- 
 tricts, consisting of 6000 houses each, each district to return 2 mem- 
 bers to Parliament.'' 
 
 " That, all persons possessing freehold property to the amount of 
 forty pounds per annum ; all possessed of lease interests to the value 
 of ; all possessed of a house of the value of 
 
 ; all who have resided for a certain number of years in 
 any great city or town, following a trade; and all who shall be free 
 of any city, &c. by birth, marriage or servitude, shall vote for mem- 
 bers of Parliament. 
 
 " That seats in Parliament shall endure for number of 
 
 years." 
 [I'he blanks left to be filled up at the discretion of the House.] 
 
 :j: Memoir delivered to the Irish Government by Messrs. Emmet, 
 O'Connor, and MacXevin. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 147 
 
 the Indemnity Bill, soon followed, as the natural course of 
 such legislation, the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, 
 inquisitorial tribunals under the name of Secret Committees, 
 and, lastly, Martial Law, with all its frightful accompaniments 
 of free quarters, burnings, picketings to extort confession, and 
 every other such infliction. 
 
 To talk of Reform to a government launched in such a 
 career seemed little less than mockery. But, as a last asser- 
 tion of principles which, had they been acted upon, w^ould 
 have saved all this ruin, the Opposition party in Parliament 
 thought it due to themselves to bring forward their measure.* 
 Once more was the wise eloquence of Grattan heard above the 
 storm, — but as unavailingly as folly itself, in its hour of tri- 
 umph, could desire. " First subdue and then reform " was 
 the sole answer he received from those, who, he well knew^, 
 could only be trusted for the former of these two processes. 
 After a firm and final protest against the wiiole system now 
 pursued, this illustrious man, followed by the small minority 
 that yet remained, withdrew, in disgust, from the House, leav- 
 ing the government, — as now reprobate beyond all hope, — to 
 itself, and thus adding his own and his party's despair to that 
 of the nation. The effects of this session upon the minds of 
 the people were rendered still more impressive by the refusal 
 of Mr. Grattan and Lord Henry Fitzgerald to stand candi- 
 dates at the ensuing election ; and such language as the fol- 
 lowing, which occurs in one of Mr. Grattan's addresses on the 
 
 * That the present is seldom more than a mere echo of the Past is 
 a remark of which the following passage from Mr. Grattan's Answer 
 to a Pamphlet of Lord Clare att'ords strong illustration. The sanie 
 objections to Reform, and the same answers to them, are as rife and 
 ready in 1831 as in 1797. " It was objected, first, that the plan did 
 not give satisfaction, — in that the most vehement partisans of Parlia- 
 mentary Reform had signified their disapprobation ; secondly, that 
 the plan opened the way to another plan, or to the project of persojial 
 representation. It became highly expedient, therefore, bef<)re any 
 other plan was submitted to the cousiderarion of Parliament, to be 
 able to assure that august body, that such plan wonld give general 
 satisfaction, and put an end to the project of persoi:al rep!'e--:e!ita.ion. 
 Th^ persons concerned in ihe forming that, plan did accordingly ob- 
 tain from the North of Ireland, and, moreover, from the advocares 
 of personal representation, authority to declare in Parliament that, 
 if the plan of 1797 should pass, they would rest satisfied." 
 
148 
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 subject,* shows that, to whatever degree he may nave blamed 
 some of the acts of those leagued against government, his 
 every feeling went thoroughly and unreservedly with their 
 cause. " When the country is put down, the press destroyed, 
 and public meetings, for the purpose of exercising the right of 
 petition, are threatened and dispersed, I agree with you that 
 a general election is no more than an opportunity to exercise, 
 by permission of the army, the solitary privilege of returning 
 a few representatives of the people to a House occupied by the 
 representatives of boroughs. "f 
 
 In the mean time, while these events were taking place, 
 negotiations had been again opened between the government 
 of France and the Chiefs of the United Irishmen ; and the 
 latter, thinking it expedient for the purpose of more regular 
 communication, to have a resident re})resentative in Paris, 
 despatched thither, in the spring of this year, Mr. E. J. Le- 
 wines,J with powers to act as their accredited minister to the 
 French Republic. This gentleman was also instructed to ne- 
 gotiate, if possible, a loan of half a million, or £300,000 with 
 either France or Spain. 
 
 Somewhat later in the year an agent was, it appears, sent 
 over by the Frencli Directory to collect information respecting 
 the state of Ireland ; but being unable, for want of the ne- 
 cessary passi)orts, to proceed any farther than London, he 
 wrote to request that some confidential member of the Union 
 should be sent thither to meet him, and Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald, as being most competent to give intelligence respecting 
 
 * It was from this Address that Mr. Isaac Corr}- read some extracts 
 in the course of lliat violent speech which gave rise to tlie duel be- 
 tween him and Mr. Gi-attan iu 1800,— nricuing that they "preached 
 the doctrine of insurrection under the name of liberty, and led to the 
 rebellion that followed." 
 
 j- " Leaders as veil as followers now began to get wearied with the 
 protracted struggle against the venality and corruption of Parliament, 
 and the memorable secession of the popular members from the House 
 of Commons having been determined upon, I made one of a deputa- 
 tion (including Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Arihur O'Connor; ap- 
 pointed to carry an address to ^lessrs. Grattan, Curran, and Geoi-ge 
 Ponsonby, requeslit;g them to discontinue the mischievous mockery 
 of attending rarliament. The request was complied with." — Cloncur- 
 rii'fi 3Ie/noirs. 
 
 :}; Lewines died in Paris in Dec. 1827, and his remains were interred 
 in the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 14^ 
 
 the military preparation of the country, was the person des- 
 patched with that view. 
 
 So impatient were the people of the North, at this moment, 
 to rise, that it was with difficulty the Chiefs of the Union suc- 
 ceeded in restraining them ; and it was only by assurances of 
 a speedy aid from France, such as should put success beyond 
 peril, that the United Irishmen of Ulster, amounting then to 
 DO less than 100,000 men, organised and regimented, could be 
 prevented from rising. To press therefore, the despatch of 
 the succours from France was now the great object of the 
 Irish Executive, and, in the month of June, one of the most 
 active of their body, Dr. MacNevin,* set out on a special 
 mission to Paris for that purpose. He found the French 
 authorities, notwithstanding the delusive negotiations which, 
 with the professed object of peace, they were about to enter 
 into with England, fully disposed to second his most hostile 
 views. It was, however, by the Batavian Republic that the 
 honour had now been claimed of taking the lead in an expedi- 
 tion for the invasion of Ireland ; and a powerful armament 
 had been accordingly collected at the Texel, consisting of fif- 
 teen sail of the line, ten frigates, and twenty-seven sail of 
 transports, carrying a land force to the amount of near four- 
 teen thousand men. And here again we see the good genius 
 of England interposing to avert from her the deserved conse- 
 quences of her own Tory councils. Had this great armament 
 been in readiness but a few weeks sooner, when the mutinies 
 of the English fleets had left the sea open, and even a part of 
 the very squadron now watching off the Texel had deserted to 
 the mutineers, — could the invader have taken advantage of 
 that most critical moment, when not only a rebel array would 
 have received them on the shores of Ireland, but a mutineer 
 fleet most probably, joined him in her waters, — what a change 
 
 * Dr. Wra. James MacXevin was born at Ballynahowne county Gal- 
 way, 1763. He was educated at Prague and graduated in Vienna; 
 after his return to Ireland he became a United Irishman, — he was ar- 
 rested in 1798, — imprisoned in Kihnainham, and subsequently refnov- 
 ed with the other State Prisoners to Fort George; afier his liberation 
 in 1803, he entered the French army as Ca[)tain in the Irish Brigade 
 in hopes of being of use to his native country; disappointed in his ex- 
 pectations, he resigned his commission and sailed for New York; he 
 died in 1841. 
 
150 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 might then have been wrought in the destinies of the British 
 Empire ! 
 
 Fortunately, however, for that empire, the chances deter- 
 mined otherwise. Having let pass the favourable moment 
 which the difficulties of England presented, the Dutch fleet 
 was, from the beginning of July, locked up by a long course 
 of adverse winds in the Texel ; till, at length, the provisions 
 laid in for the expedition being nearly exhausted, it was found 
 necessary to disembark the troops ; and the Dutch govern- 
 ment having, by a rashness of resolve for which no intelligible 
 motive has ever been assigned, ordered their admiral to put to 
 sea and engage the British fleet, that memorable action en- 
 sued, off Camperdown, which terminated, as is well known, in 
 one of the most splendid victories that have ever adorned the 
 annals of Great Britain. 
 
 Meanwhile, affairs in Ireland were hurrying to their crisis ; 
 and events and scenes crowded past, in fearful succession, of 
 which, — if i)ersonal feelings may be allowed to mingle them- 
 selves with such a narrative, — so vivid is my own recollection, 
 I could not trust myself to dwell upon them, Tliough then 
 but a youth in college, and so many years have since gone by, 
 the impression of horror and indignation which the acts of 
 the government of that city left u|)on my mind is, I confess, 
 at this moment, far too freshly alive to allow me the due calm- 
 ness of a historian in speaking of them. Not only had I 
 myself, from early childhood, taken a passionate interest in 
 that struggle which, however darkly it ended, began under the 
 bright auspices of a Grattan, but among those young men 
 whom, after my entrance into college, I looked up to with 
 most admiration and regard, the same enthusiasm of national 
 feeling prevailed. Some of them, too, at the time of terror 
 and torture I am now speaking of, were found to have impli- 
 cated themselves far more deeply in the popular league against 
 power than I could ever have suspected ; and these I was 
 now doomed to see, in their several wavs, victims, — victims of 
 that very ardour of patriotism which had been one of the 
 sources of my affection for them, and in which, through al- 
 most every step but the last, my sympathies had gone along 
 with them. 
 
 One, — considerablv mv senior, and not in the universitv, — 
 who, by his industry and taste in collecting old Irish airs, and 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 151 
 
 the true national expression with which he performed them on 
 the flute, contributed to nurse in me a strong feeling for our 
 country's music, if he be still alive, is now languishing in 
 exile.* Another, whose literary talents, and mild, manly cha- 
 racter gave every promise of a bright, if not splendid career, 
 was under the ban of a collegiate sentence which incapacitat- 
 ed him from all the learned professions, driven to a line of 
 employment the least congenial to his tastes, where, through 
 the remainder of a short, amiable life, his fine talents lay use- 
 less ; while a third, young Emmet, but escaped with the same 
 branding sentence to be reserved for that most sad, but mem- 
 orable, doom, to which despair, as well of himself as of his 
 country, at last drove him.y 
 
 Of this latter friend, notwithstanding his own dying en- 
 treaty that the world would extend to him " the charity of 
 its silence," | I cannot deny myself the gratification of adding 
 a few words, conscious that, at least, the spirit of his wish 
 
 * When, in consequence of the compact entered into between gov- 
 ernment and the chief leaders of the conspiracy, the State Prisoners, 
 before proceeding into exile, were allowed to see their friends, I paid 
 a visit to this gentleman in the jail of Kilmainham, where he had lain 
 immured for four or live months, hearing of friend after friend being 
 led out to death, and expecting every week his own turn to come. As 
 paiutiiig was one of his tastes, I found that, to amuse his solitude, he 
 had made a large drawing with charcoal on the wall of his prison re- 
 presenting that fancied origin of the Irish Harp, which some vears 
 after, I adopted as the subject of one of the Melodies: — 
 
 " 'Twas a Syren of old," <te. 
 
 f As, in England, by a natural and, at one time, no very calumni- 
 ous mistake, the term '' rebel "' is looked upon as synonymous with 
 *' Catholic," it may be as well to mention that these three young men 
 were (^like most of the leading persons of the conspirac}-) Protestants. 
 
 X " The grave opens to receive me: — all I ask of the world is the 
 charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as none 
 who knows my motives dares justify them, so let none who is igno- 
 rant of them dare to asperse them. Let my tomb remain uninscribed, 
 till other times and other men shall learn to do justice to mv memo- 
 ry." 1 quote these sentences from recollection, and the noble speech 
 of which they form a part, was delivered by him, before receiving 
 Bentence, ia his most animated and energetic manner, after having 
 stood tiiruugh a harassing trial of twelve hours' duratio:i. 
 
 To the passage of this speech just quoted (and not, as is sometimes 
 supposed, to any thing connected with Lord Edward Fitzgerald,) the 
 Irish Melody beginning "Oh breathe not his name," was intended to 
 allude. 
 
152 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 will not be violated in them. Were I to number, indeed, the 
 men, among all I have ever known, who appeared to me to 
 combine, in the greatest degree, pure moral worth with intel- 
 lectual power, I should, among the highest of the few, place 
 Robert Emmet. Wholly free from the follies and frailties of 
 youth, — though how capable he was of the most devoted pas- 
 sion events afterwards proved, — the pursuit of science, in which 
 he eminently distinguished himself, seemed, at this time, the 
 only object that at all divided his thoughts with that enthusi- 
 asm for Irisli freedom Avhich in him was an hereditary as well 
 as national feeling, — himself being the second martyr his 
 father had given to the cause. 
 
 Simple in all his habits, and with a repose of look and man- 
 ner indicating but little movement within, it was only when 
 the spring was touched that set his feelings and, — through 
 them, — his intellect in motion that he, at all, rose above the 
 level of ordinary men. On no occasion was this more peculi- 
 arly striking than in those displays of oratory with which, 
 both in the Debating, and the Historical, Society, he so often 
 enchained the attention and sympathy of his young audience. 
 No two individuals, indeed, could be much more unlike to each 
 other than was the same youth to himself, before rising to 
 speak, and after; — the brow that had appeared inanimate 
 and almost drooping at once elevating itself in all the consci- 
 ousness of power, and the whole countenance and figure of the 
 speaker assuming a change as of one suddenly inspired. 
 
 Of his oratory, it must be recollected, I speak from youth- 
 ful impressions ; but I have heard little since that appeared 
 to me of a loftier or (what is a far more rare quality in Irish 
 eloquence) purer character ; and the effects it produced, as 
 well from its own exciting power, as from the susceptibility 
 with which his audience caught up every allusion to passing 
 events, was such as to attract at last seriously the attention 
 of the Fellows ; and bv their desire one of the scholars, a 
 man of advanced standing and reputation for oratory, came 
 to attend our debates expressly for the purpose of answering 
 Emmet, and endeavouring to neutralize the impressions of his 
 fervid eloquence. 
 
 Such, in heart and mind, was another of those devoted 
 men, who with gifts that would have made them the orna- 
 ments and supports of a well-regulated community, were driven 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. , 153 
 
 to live the lives of conspirators and die tlie death of traitors, 
 by a system of governmeut which it would be difficult even to 
 think of with patience, did we not gather a hope fron) the 
 present aspect of the whole civiUzed world, that such a sys- 
 tem of bigotry and misrule can never exist again. 
 
 With Lord Edward I could liave no opportunity of form- 
 ing any acquaintance, but rememl)er (as if it had been but 
 yesterday) having once seen hira, in the year 1T97, in Grafton 
 street, — when, on being told who he was, as he passed, I ran 
 anxiously after him, desirous of another looli at one whose 
 name had, from my school-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 ex- 
 pression given to his eyes by their long dark eyelashes, are as 
 present and familiar to my memory as if I had intimately 
 known hhn. Little did I then think that, at an interval of 
 four-and-thirty years from thence, — an interval equal to the 
 whole span of his life at that period, — I should not only find 
 myself the historian of his mournful fate, but (what to many 
 Will appear matter rather of shame than of boast) with feel- 
 ings so little altered, either as to himself or his cause. 
 
 Trusting that I shall meet with pardon from my reader, not 
 so much for the digressiveness of these last few pages, — which 
 can hardly, perhaps, be said to have much wandered from the 
 subject, — as for the more than due share of their contents 
 that relate personally to myself, I shall now proceed with the 
 narrative which I had been thus tempted to interrupt. 
 
 Towards the close of 1797 the fervour of the insurrectionary 
 spirit had, in the great seat of its strength, the North, visibly 
 abated : and to the enforcement of martial law throughout 
 Ulster, during the summer, that party whose panacea for the 
 ills of Ireland had been, at all times, and under all circum- 
 stances, the bayonet, were anxious to attribute this change. 
 But though the seizure, under General Lake's proclamation of 
 so large a quantity of arms, must have a good deal weakened 
 the means of the United Irish in that quarter, it is also evident 
 that there were still arms enough in their possession to give 
 them confidence in their own strength, as their first impulse 
 was to rise and employ them against their despoilers. This 
 desu'e, indeed, seems to have sprung up, in the very wake of 
 
154 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 martial law, throughout the whole provhice, and the objections 
 and obstacles raised by most of the Dublin leaders, - from a 
 conviction, as they themselves state, that, without French aid, 
 such an attempt would be unavailing, — hrst caused that dis- 
 cordance of views between the Ulster and Leinster delegates, 
 which continued from thenceforth to embarrass the counsels 
 of the conspiracy, and, at last, contribute to its failure. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dissent, however, of their Dublin 
 brethren, some of the more sanguine leaders of the North still 
 persisted in their endeavours to force a general rising ; and 
 Lowry, Teeling, and others proceeded to Dublin to concert 
 measures for that purpose. A plan of insurrection, — in draw- 
 ing up which, it is said, some Ifish officers, who had been in 
 the Austrian service, assisted, — had already been agreed upon ; 
 and, what was far more important, some of the regiments then 
 on duty in Dublin having received intimation of the intended 
 design, a deputation of sergeants from the Clare, Kilkenny, 
 and Kildare militias waited upon the provincial committee of 
 Dublin with an offer to seize, in the name of the Union, the 
 royal barrack and the castle, without requiring the aid or pre- 
 sence of a single citizen. 
 
 This proposal was immediately laid before the executive ; 
 and Lord Edward most strenuously urged, as might be ex- 
 pected, tlieir acceptance of it. But, after a long and anxious 
 discussion, their decision was to decline the offer, as involving: 
 a risk which the present state of their preparations would not 
 justify them, they thought in encountering. The whole design 
 was, therefore, abandoned, and its chief instigators, Messrs. 
 Ijowry, Teeling, and Tennant, — the first a member of the 
 executive committee of Ulster, — were forced to fly to Ham- 
 burgh. 
 
 To popular ardour, when at its height, the postponement of 
 action is a check seldom recovered from ; and it is the opinion 
 of those most conversant with the history of the conspiracy, 
 that the Leinster leaders, by their want of enterprise and 
 decision at this moment, let pass a crisis far more pregnant 
 with chances of success than any ever presented to them.* 
 
 * That such was Tones view of their conduct, as far as he could 
 judge from the reports of the fugitives who had joined him at the 
 Texel, will appear from the following passage in his Diar3^ — "August, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 155 
 
 The people of the North, who had been induced to curb their 
 first impulse by an assurance of the speedy arrival of the 
 French, when they now saw weeks pass away without any 
 appearance of the i)romised succours, began naturally to abate- 
 in their zeal, and even to suspect they had been deceived. 
 From having been taught thus to look for aid to others, they 
 lost confidence in themselves ; and an interval of grace being, 
 at the same time proclaimed by the government, within which 
 those who submitted and gave up their arms were to receive 
 full pardon, the good effects of such rarely tried policy were 
 manifested by the numbers that, in all parts of the North, 
 hastened to avail themselves of it. 
 
 To these causes of the abatement of fervour among the 
 Northerns must be added another of a still deeper and more 
 important kind, which began to come into operation about the 
 middle of 17 97, and from that time, continued not only to 
 moderate their enthusiasm in the conspiracy, but materially 
 mfiuenced the character of the rebellion that followed ; — and 
 this w^as the growing apprehension, both upon political and 
 religious grounds, with which the more scrupulous among the 
 Presbyterian republicans regarded that alliance, which the 
 orsranization of the Catholic counties was now admitting into 
 their league.. Already had there, for some time, existed among 
 
 1797. — By vrhat Lowry and Tennant tell me, there seems to have 
 been a great want of spirit in the leaders in Dublin. I suspected it 
 very much from Lewine's ac.couut, thougli I saw he put the best side 
 out ; but I am now sure of it. However, I did not say so to them, 
 for the thing is past, and criticising it will do no good, but the reverse. 
 The people liave been urgent more than once to begin, and, at one 
 time, eight liundred of the garrison offered to give up tlie barracks of 
 Dublin, if the loaders would only give the signal; the militia were 
 almost to a man gained over, and numbers of tliese poor fellows have 
 fallen victims in consequence. It is hard to judge at this distance, 
 but it seems to me to have been an unpardonable weakness, if not 
 downright cowardice, to let such an occasion slip. With eight hund- 
 red of the garrison and the barracks to begin with, in an hour they 
 would have had the whole capital, and by seizing the persons of half 
 a dozen individuals, paralj'zed the whole government, and, in my 
 opinion, accomplished the whole revolution by a single proclamation. 
 But, as I said alread}', it is hard to judge at a distance. — I am sur- 
 
 Crised that Emmet did not show more energy, because I know he is as 
 rave as Cajsar of his person. It seeni3 to me to have been such an 
 ocoasioa missed as we can hardlv ever see return." 
 
156 MEMOIRJ? OF 
 
 tlie lowor orders of Catholics nssoi'iations known by t lie name of 
 Defenders, halt'-politieal, lialf-}»redatory to whieh the Ihiion luid 
 always looked as a sort of nursery for their own ehief military 
 force, — the hardy habits of these freebooters (for such they 
 had now become) and their familiarity with the use of arms, 
 appearing' to oiler the kind of material out of which good 
 example and disci])line might succeed in making soldiers. 
 
 In the >»orth the United Irishmen and the Defenders, 
 though concurring iu iierce enmity to the state, had been kept 
 in wholly distinct bodies, as well by the ditrerence of their re- 
 ligious tenets, as by the grounds, but too sufllcient, which the 
 latter had for considering all rresbyterians as foes, Iu most 
 other parts of Ireland, however, the case was diftereut, 
 AYherevcr the bulk of the population were Catholics, the 
 Defenders formed the chief portion of the United force ; — or, 
 rather, in such places, the system of the Union degenerated 
 into Defcnderism, assnming that character which a peojile, 
 lawless from having beeu themselves so long outlawed, mii;'ht 
 have been ex})ected to give it. Heuce those outrages and 
 crimes which, jjcrpetrated under the nauie of United Irishmen, 
 brought disgrace upon the cause, and alarmed more especially 
 its Presbyterian supj)orters, who, not without reason, shrunk 
 from the hazard of conmiittiug the interests of the cause of 
 civil and religious liberty to such bauds. Under this impres- 
 sion it was tliat the leading United Irishmen of the counties 
 of Down and Autrim were anxious to inculcate the uotiou 
 that the rresbyterians could disjiense with Catholic aid ; ami 
 so luuch had the repugnance of the two sects to act in concert 
 manifested itself, that at a meeting of captains, on the 31st 
 of July, at Downpatrick, strong fears were, we tiud, expressed 
 " that the Dissenters aud Catholics would become two sepa- 
 rate parties." 
 
 But though this, and the other causes I have adverted to, 
 had, at the conuueucement of the year HOS, a good deal 
 checked the advance of tlie consi)iracy in that region which 
 had given it birth and strength, there were still immense num- 
 bers organized and armed throughout the North, who, under 
 Protestant leaders,^such as were, at this time, the great ma- 
 jority of the United chiefs, — would have felt too confident in 
 their own power of giving a direction to the revolution to have 
 any fears from the pi-edominance of their outnumbering allies. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 157 
 
 Whatever of physical strerijrth, too, mijrht have been lost to 
 the Union in Lister had been more than a hundred-fold made 
 uj) V)y the spread of the orffanization elsewhere ; and from the 
 returns made, in the month of Fe)>ruary this year, to Lord 
 Edward, as head of the military committee, it appeared that 
 the force at that time regimented and armed, throughout Ire- 
 land, amounted to little less than 300,000 men. 
 
 The object of the military committee, just mentioned, was 
 to prepare a plan of co-operation with the invader, or of 
 irtsurrection, if forced to it, before the invader came. The 
 hope of succours from France, though so frequently frustrat- 
 ed, was still kept sanguinely alive, and to the arrival of an 
 armament in April they, at the beginning of this year looked 
 with confidence, — the strongest assurances having been given 
 by M. Talleyrand to their agent at Paris, that an expedition 
 was in forwardness, and would be ready by that time. 
 
 On the 28th of Februarv Lord Edward's friend, Mr. 
 Arthur O'Connor, was, together with Quigley, the Irish priest 
 and others, arrested, on their way to France, at Margate ; 
 and a paper being found on Quigley, addressed to the French 
 directory, inviting earnestly a speedy invasion of i]ngland, the 
 whole party were, on the 6th of March, committed to the 
 Tower, on a charge of high-treason. In consequence of this 
 arrest the office of the Press newspaper, — a journal which 
 had been in the year 1797 established in Dublin, for the ex- 
 press purpose of forwarding the views of the Union,* and of 
 which Mr. O'Connor had lately become the avowed editor, — 
 was by order of the government searched, and all the ma- 
 terials and papers belonging to the establishment seized. 
 " Among the persons," says a ministerial newspaper of the 
 day, " who were in the house where the Press was printed, 
 were found Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Counsellor Samp- 
 soa.f Lord Edward seemed peculiarly affected by the visit 
 
 * In this newspaper the author of the present Memoir confesses to 
 have made his first essay as a writer of prose ; and among those ex- 
 tracts from its columns which are appended to the Report of the Se- 
 cret Committee, for the purpose of showing the excited state of pubhc 
 feeling at that period, there aie some of which the blame or the merit 
 must rest with an author wlio had then but just turned hi? seventeenth 
 year. 
 
 f See the Memoirs of William Sampson (Letter L), for a more full 
 
158 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of the magistrate, and interested himself much to comfort the 
 woman of the house, who had been brouf^ht by miscliievous 
 dehislons into embarrassment and trouble ; and offered her 
 and her family a residence in his own house, as some com- 
 pensation," 
 
 It being now clear' that, with or without French aid, the 
 struf^gle must soon come, Lord Edward and his colleagues 
 urged on, with redoubled zeal, the preparations for the en- 
 counter. A revolutionary staff was formed, and an adjutant- 
 general appointed in each county to transmit returns to the 
 executive of the strength and state of their respective forces, 
 — to report the nature of the military positions in their neigh- 
 bourhood, to watch the movements of the king's troops, and, 
 in short, as their Instructions * (drawn up by Lord Edward 
 himself) direct, to attend to every point connected with the 
 species of warfare they were about to wage. 
 
 In this formidable train were affairs now proceeding ; nor 
 would it be possible, perhaps, to find, in the whole compass 
 of history, — taking into account the stake, the odds, the peril, 
 and the daring, — another instance of a conspiracy assuming 
 such an attitude. But a blow^ was about to fall upon them 
 for which they were little prepared. Hazardous as had been 
 the agency of the chiefs, at every step, and numerous as^ were 
 the persons necessarily acquainted with their proceedings, yet 
 so well contrived for secrecy was the medium throua'h which 
 they acted, and by such fidelity had they been hitherto fenced 
 round, that the government could not reach them. How lit- 
 tle sparing those in authority would have been of rewards, 
 
 account, of that transaction: that in the ministerial paper was incor- 
 rect. Mr. Sampson was there as counsel for Mr. Stockdale; Lord Ed- 
 ward was not there at all. — Am. Ed. 
 
 * One part of these Instructions ran thus: — " Those in the maritime 
 comities are charged, on the first a[)peara!ice of a friendly force upon 
 the coast, but especiall}' on the most certain informalion being had of 
 the debarkation of our allies, to commimioate the same, in the most 
 speedy manner, to the Executive. They must then immediately collect 
 tlieir force and march forward, with as many of the yeomanry and 
 militia as possible, each man to be provided with at least three days' 
 subsistence, and to bring all the\' can of carts, draft-horses, horses 
 harnessed, and horses to mount cavalry, with three or four days' for- 
 age ; taking care to seize nowhere the property of a patriot where an 
 enemy can be found to raise contributions on." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 159 
 
 their prodigality to their present informer proved. But few 
 or none had yet been tempted to betray ; and, in addition to 
 the characteristic fidelity of the Irish in such confederacies, 
 the same hatred of the law which had made the traitors to 
 the state kept them true to each other. 
 
 It is, indeed, not the least singular feature of this singular 
 piece of history, that with a government, strongly intrenched 
 both in power and will, resolved to crush its opponents, and 
 not scrupulous as to the means, there should now have elapsed 
 two whole years of all but open rebellion, under their very 
 eyes, without their being able, either by force or money, to 
 obtain sufficient information to place a single one of the many 
 chiefs of the confederacy in their power. Even now, so far 
 from their vigilance being instrumental in the discovery, it 
 was but to the mere accidental circumstance of a worthless mem- 
 ber of the conspiracy being pressed for a sum of money to dis- 
 charge some debts, that the government was indebted for the 
 treachery that, at once, laid the whole plot at their feet, — 
 delivered up to them at one seizure almost all its leaders, and 
 thus disorganizing, by rendering it headless, the entire body 
 of the Union, was the means, it is not too much to say, of 
 saving the country to Great Britain."^ 
 
 * " "When Lord Edward Fitzgerald spoke to me of Reynolds, which 
 was not until early in March, as one of the Kildare colonels chosen 
 til rough 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 safe- 
 ty, that I escaped from a snare lie laid deliberately against my life. 
 
 '• The day before the meeting of the r2th of March, he called at my 
 residence twice in one forenoon without finding me. The seccJnd 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 1 had no idea of the extent of my danger, for I knew noth- 
 ing of the nature of the confidence reposed in him b}' Lord Edward; 
 neither had I any knowledge of those traits of villany in his charac- 
 ter which afterward came out on the trial of Mr. Bond. My preeau- 
 liou arose simply from the obvious indiscretion of the demand, togei^h- 
 er with my contemptuous opinion of the individual himself; 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 
 
160 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The name of this informer, — a nanie in one country, at 
 least, never to be forj^otten, — was Thomas Reynolds, and the 
 information he gave that led to the arrests at Bond's on the 
 
 would eonie Lack for an answer before dinner, T waited for him with- 
 in, l^etween three and four he made liis a{>pearanee, when I told 
 him, that as he had come liimself it was unnecessary to hand him my 
 answer, throwing the paper in the fire. Never shall I forget the sud- 
 den falling of Ills countenance and his rueful expression of disappoint- 
 ment at that moment. I coldly said I knew nothing of the matter, 
 and hooked about as for my hat. He could not recover his composure, 
 but at once witlulrew. My opportunities enabled me to know (for I 
 attended professionally- on his mother and her daughters) that he was 
 given to lying, much of a glutton, and both expensive und avaricious; 
 qualities Avhich I had never seen to belong to a man of firm resolu- 
 tion, generous purpose, integrity, and courage. I also learned tliat 
 by his neai- relations he was not esteemed. 1 take Reynolds as a case 
 to prove how much it is a violation of morals on any account to con- 
 ceal from the knowledge of the world the heinous transgressions of 
 bad men. These are then the wolves in sheep's clothing, whose Avick- 
 ed nature is not changed by lenity, but concealed in ambush until 
 llieir pounce is deadly. Tenderness for his mother and her lionoura- 
 ble relatives, the fit/.geralds of Oerakline, caused a veil to be drawn 
 over the crimes of his youth. Had he been unmasked in time, he 
 never could have brought about the ruin of the virtuous Lord Edward, 
 nor so many other excellent men, nor of Ireland, at that period. No 
 pure character would ever suffer his approach if a coroner's inquest 
 had been held on the death of his motlier-in-law. It Avas not, how- 
 ever, until the trial of Mr. Bond that the circumstances of that horrid 
 affair became public. On the day of trial, Mv. Henry Withrington, a 
 coi-net in the 0th dragoons, presented himself voluntarily, and made 
 oath, that he believed Reynolds not deserving of credit in a court of 
 justice, and that he had poisoned his (Withriiigton's) mother. Rey- 
 nolds ha<l married a daughter of Mrs. Withi-ington, a lady of great 
 respectability and good fortune, and was to receive at her death £1,500. 
 of his wife's portion. In some time he persuaded the tjood lady to 
 lend him this sum, and take the interest dm-ing her life. Subsequent- 
 ly to the transaction, Mrs. Withrington became indisposed with a cold, 
 for which her son-in-law gave her a dose of medicine, — he said, tartar 
 emetic ; but she grew worse. The cornet, her j-ounger son, at that 
 time seventeen years of age, testified that she sent an express the 
 same evening for him and her son lulward, who was major of the regi- 
 ment, both quartered in Atlw, thirty-two miles from Dublin. That 
 he himself set off inunediately, and arrived in town befure morning; 
 but that his mother was nailed up in her cofiin, which Reynolds would 
 not sutler to be opened, but wished to proceed with the burial; that 
 he resisted the removal of the coffin, and remained leaning on it imtil 
 his brother Edward arrived, who was very indignant at the haste, 
 and had the coffin opened. There they found their mother's body 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 161 
 
 12tli of March,* will be most clearly set before the reader 
 in the foUowin;:^ extracts from his evidence : — 
 
 " It was about the 25th February, 1798, that, in travelling 
 
 wrapped in a pitched sheet. After this, all intercourse ceased between 
 the major and Reynolds. I have no copy by me of Mr. Bond's trial, 
 where the evidence of the cornet is detailed, but every bo<iv must see 
 it was quick work for a sudden death happening in the middle of the 
 night, and no physician called. Major Withrington also appeared on 
 the trial, whether voluntarily or by summons 1 do not know, and he 
 corroborated Henry's testimony. To a question why he had conceal- 
 ed such a fact so long, he answered, " lie had the misfortune of hav- 
 ing a sister married to Reynolds, and wished not to destroy her peace." 
 Mrs. Withrington was rich, and was said to have received a few days 
 before her death a large sum of money. There was not found after 
 her decease sufficient to bury her. 
 
 Reynolds admitted at the trial every thing brought forward to im- 
 peach him, and the Orange jury convicted on his testimony, and the 
 government took the part of his character. 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES MACNEVIX. 
 
 * The reader probably requires not to be reminded that the cap- 
 ture at Bond's was the result of, perhaps, one of the mo?t diabolical 
 strokes of treachery that ever fell to the lot of a historian to chroni- 
 cle. Thomas Reynolds ! Oh ! would that wc could write his name in 
 letters of blood! Were every disgusting epithet of opprobrium col- 
 lected from the refuse of our vocabulary, and hurled in one foetid mass 
 at the reputation of the Judas, 'twould be only a speck to the dung- 
 hill of obloquy under which his character ought to be, for all eternity 
 buried. A more deliberate and cold-blooded jjiece of treachery (with 
 the exception, perhaps, of Sheares' betrayal,) is not upon record in 
 the Irish memory. By this act alone, Reynolds consigned to the gib- 
 bet thirteen men, wholly innocent of an}' moral crime, not to take into 
 account at least a dozen others, whose opinions w^re revealed by the 
 discovery at Bond's of their papers and memoranda. Reynolds was 
 originally a silk mercer in Dublin, but having acquired, by the death 
 of some relatives, a landed property in the County Kildare, he took 
 up his abode in Kilkea Castle, near the town of Mageney. " He so 
 completely wormed himself" sa3-8 Plowden, " into the confidence of 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Bond, that in 1797 he was appointed a 
 colonel, then treasurer and representative of Kildare, and at last, de- 
 legate for the province of Leiuster. A day rarely elapsed that he was 
 not ingratiating himself with Fitzgerald, partaking of his hospitality, 
 eagerly drinkinjj down those secrets too confidingly imparted, strength- 
 ening them in his recollection by careful note-taking when the momen- 
 tary absence of his entertainer from the room afforded an opportuni- 
 ty, and in the privacy of his own closet, afterwards stringing them 
 together into the form of a connected narrative, in order, when the 
 fitting time arrived, to lay it before Lord Castlereagh and his col- 
 leagues." — Fitzpatrick's Life of Cloncv.rry. 
 
162 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 with Mr. Cope to Castle-Jordan in order to obtain pofiscssion 
 of some lands to which we were jointly entitled, I was inchie- 
 ed by the i)ersuasion of this gentleman, on whose friendship 
 and hononr 1 had the most im])hcit reliance, to disclose to 
 him, in part, the extent of the conspiracy, I added, that in 
 order to enable o-overnment to counteract it entirely, I would 
 procure a man wiio could get to the bottom of it, and detect 
 the leaders. In consequence of this I did, in the name of a 
 third [)erson, commnnicate to Mr. Cope for government all 1 
 knew of the plans and views of the United Irishmen, and 
 ]):irticularly the ])ro('eedings of the meeting at Bond's of the 
 IDth of February, 1798, which I had got from Lord I'^dward 
 Fitzgerald, and the intended (Provincial) meeting of the 12th 
 of March, also at Bond's, which meeting was in consequence 
 apprehended, 
 
 " In order to procure more certain knowledge of the in- 
 tended meeting of the 12th of March, I applied to Bond, at 
 whose house Dalv had said it was to be held ; and ])ond 
 referred me to John M'Cann as the man who was to regulate 
 that part of the business, and to give any information that 
 might be necessary about it. 1 accordingly applied to 
 M'Cann, who said, that unless I brought u\) the returns from 
 the county connnittee of Kildare, I could not be admitted to 
 the provincial, neither could he give me any information tliere- 
 of till 1 showed him said returns. On connnunicating this to 
 Mr, Cope, he advised me to go down to my county, whicli I 
 accordingly did, on the Satiu-day week before the arrest of 
 the nu'cting at Bond's, On the Sundr.y I went to Castleder- 
 mott, where for the first time 1 met my othcers, and settled 
 returns of men and arms, &c., after which J called upon Daly 
 at Kilcullen, who 1 knew was in possession of the returns, and 
 who wrote a copy of them and gave it to me. On l)ring!ng 
 this i)aper up to Dublin, I showed it to M'Caim, and asked 
 him the time of meeting of the provincial ; when he said that 
 it was very odd there was not any increase in the returns since 
 the last meeting, and that the delegates must be in town on 
 the Sunday evening. M'Cann then promised that he would 
 breakfast with me on Sunday, 11th March, 1798, at my 
 house. No, 4 Cumberland-street, and tell me all particulars as 
 to the time and place of the provincial meeting. Accord- 
 ingly, M'Cann did come on the next morning, Sunday, to 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1G3 
 
 breakfast ; but no particular convcrsatiou then took place, as 
 Mrs. Reynolds was present. 
 
 " After breakfast, M'Cann and I walked to the bottom of 
 Churcli-strcet, when he told me that, at ten o'clock on Mdu- 
 dav mornin<j:, I must be at Oliver Dond's and desired me to be 
 punctual, as particular l)usiness woukl be done. Not wishin;^- 
 to be at the meeting-, as 1 knew it was to be arrested, 1 wrote 
 a note to Bond, which I sent on Monday morninii,-, stating- that 
 Mrs. Reynokls was taken very ill ; that 1 conid not conse- 
 quently bring my money at the hour appointed, and begged 
 him to make an apology for me to M'Cann on that account." 
 
 The above information being laid by Mr. Cope before gov- 
 ernment, a warrant IVom the secretary of state's oifice was 
 phiced in tlie hands of Mr. Swan, a magistrate for the county 
 of DubHn, who, on the morning of ^Nlondny, 12th of ^larch, 
 repaired to Mr. Oliver Bond's house, attended by tiiirteen ser- 
 geants in coloured clothes, and by means of the pass-word, — 
 " Where's M'Cann ? Is Ivers from Carlow come ?" obtained 
 ready admission to the meetingvand arrested all the persons 
 there assembled.* Among tlie chief leaders mentioned in the 
 warrant, there were, — besides Oliver l^oud himself, who was 
 one of the most respectable and oj)ul('nt merchants in all Ire- 
 land, — Dr. MacNevin, Knunet, and Sampson, f both barristers 
 of eminence, and Lord Edward Fitzgerakl. Of the four last 
 none happened to be present at the meeting ; but sei)arate war- 
 
 * Among the papers found at Bond's, consisting chiefly of returns 
 from the otticers of the Union, there was a list of toasts and sentiments, 
 of wliieli the following is a signitieant s|)ocimon : — " Mother lOrin dress- 
 ed in green ribands by a French luilliner, if she can't be dressed with- 
 out her." 
 
 The following are the names and residences of those arrested. Oli- 
 ver Hond, lo Bridge street, Dublin, Peter ivers, Carlow, Lawrence 
 Kelly, Queen's county, James Hose, AVindyluu'bour, Dublin, (ieoi-ge 
 Cummins, Kildare, Edward Hudson, 38 Grafton street, Dublin. John 
 Lynch. ;U ilary's Abbey, Dublin, Lawrence Griffen, Carlow, Thomas 
 Reynolds. Culmuttin, Kilkenny, John McCann, 15^ Church street, 
 Dublin, Patrick Devine, Ballymony, county of Dublin, Tlujuias Tray- 
 nor, Pi)olbeg street, Dublin, William iMiehael Byrne, Park hill Wick- 
 low, Christopher Martin, Dunboyne, Meath, i'eter Bannon. Poi'tarling- 
 ton. 
 
 f Mr. Sampson, however active, resolute, and efficient in the cause 
 of the United Irishmen, had tlu^n no pai't in the organization civil or, 
 military. See his correspondence with Lord Moira. iSlemoir, 2d ed. 
 p. :iL— Am. Eu. 
 
164 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rants being instantly issued against them, MacXevin, Emmet, 
 and Sampson were at no very long intervals after apprehend- 
 ed,* and Lord Edward alone contrived to elude pursuit. 
 
 It has been my good fortune to have intrusted to me, with 
 liberty to make extracts from it, a short journal which was, 
 about this time, begun by Lady Sarah Napier,"}" for the kind 
 purpose of preserving, during a severe illness of her husband, 
 such particulars of the events then passing as it would most 
 interest him, when convalescent, to know. The minute domes- 
 tic details connected with her noble relative's fate, which she 
 has here so simply, but with so much feeling and strength of 
 character, recorded, are such as could have been in no other 
 way accessible, nor in any other shape half so interestingly 
 conveyed. . ^ 
 
 " Monday, March 5th. 
 " News came from London this week that four or five men 
 were taken up at Margate, trying to escape to France with 
 some plot ; for that, having come to Dover, they put their bag- 
 gage on a cart, and followed it themselves on foot towards 
 Marirate — offered immense sums — seemed to know the wav — 
 that many odd things caused suspicion, and they were appre- 
 hended. One of tliem said he was Arthur O'Connor, and 
 going abroad with the other gentleman : that on the cart was 
 found boxes with papers expressive of their being a sort of 
 ambassadors, from the U. I. M.J to the Directory at Paris, to 
 give assurances of the good reception the French would meet 
 with in Ireland and to press their immediate coming. The 
 gentlemen denied the baggage was theirs. They were carried 
 to the privy council, and put into the Tower. 
 
 This is all the substance I have gleaned from the little I 
 
 n n 
 
 * Coiinselloi- Sampson, however, having fled to England, was seized 
 at Carlisle, and there committed to prison ; nor was it, if I recollect 
 right, till the beginning of May that he was brought back, in cusfody. 
 to Dublin. [For what concerns the warrant and arrest of Counsellor 
 Sampson, see his own jMemoirs, 2d ed. p. 18. His work it a^^pears, 
 had not reached the hands of Mr. Moore. — Am. Ed.] 
 
 f Aunt to Lord Edward Fitzgerald and mother of the distinguished 
 historian of the Peninsular AVar, to whose kindness I am indcijted for 
 the use of so precious a document. 
 
 \ United Irishmen. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 165 
 
 have heard ; and, on the other hand, it is since said that all 
 these suspicious circumstances are a fabrication, and that no- 
 thing can be found against O'Connor of any sort. Yet Mr. 
 Ogilvie writes me word, it is generally believed, he will be 
 hanged ; but many at first said he would get ofif. I will try 
 to be more mistress of the subject against you read this, which 
 I have carefully kept from your hearing as long as I thought 
 it dangerous to give your thoughts such serious grounds for 
 working them on, which in your weak state is hurtful and re- 
 tards recovery. I have since heard from Mr. Henry that Ed- 
 ward never was troubled about O'Connor, and said that he 
 had nothing odd with him but 1200 lyuineas. * * * * 
 " He is to be tried at the Kent Asssizes. 
 
 March, 17 98. 
 
 " It was fortunate I kept O'Connor's business from you, as it 
 first appeared linked with one much more interesting to us all : 
 but / believe I may say with truth, that it was the artful ma- 
 nagement of government so to dispose the scenery, that the 
 most knowing ones were taken in at first ; but that it is cer- 
 tain that an event which took place here is in no way whatever 
 the conseciuence of this English business, but a mere repetition 
 of Russel and Xelson s business, and will end the same way, 
 to the disgrace of government. However, here is the story : — 
 
 " (Mr. Pelham was dying, and therefore, poor man is free 
 from this business. Lord Castlereagh was sent for express from 
 Dundalk, to do Mr. Pelham's business.) 
 
 " Mails came from London, and a council called, and then 
 determined to take up many U. I. M. ; for, early on Monday, 
 12th, messengers were sent to Oliver Bond's house, to take up 
 all then sitting at a committee ; when they entered the 
 house, the table was full of papers : a sergeant said, ' If you 
 don't all hold up your hands, I will shoot you.' The papers 
 seized were of the utmost importance, and carried to council. 
 Counsellor Emmet, Oliver Bond, Jackson, the ironmonger, 
 Sweetman the brewer, and others, were taken. Counsellor 
 Sampson made his escape ; Dr. MacXevin was taken in his 
 own house ; and report made a thousand stories of where Ed- 
 ward was. Some said at the committee, others at Dr. Mac- 
 Nevin^s ; that the sheriff seeing him, said to the messengers, 
 ' Is not Lord Edward in your warrant V ' Xo ;' upon which 
 
166 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Edward walked in the streets ; and then heard a separate war- 
 rant was out for him, on which he disappeared, and has never 
 been heard of since, 
 
 " Tiie separate warrant went by a messenger, attended by 
 Sheriff Carlton, and a party of soldiers, commanded by a Ma- 
 jor O'Kelly, into Leinster-house. The servants ran up to 
 Lady Edward, who was ill with the gathering in her breast, 
 and told her ; she said directly, ' There is no help, send them 
 up :' they asked very civilly for her papers and Edward's, and 
 she gave all. Her apparent distress moved Major O'Kelly to 
 tears ; and their whole conduct was proper. They left her, 
 and soon returned (Major Boyle having been with two dra- 
 goons to Frescati, and taken such papers as were in their sit- 
 ting-room, and not found Edward) to search Leinster-house 
 for him, and came up with great good nature to say, ' Madam, 
 we wish to tell you our search is in vain. Lord Edward has 
 escaped.' Dr. Lindsay returning from hence went to Leinster- 
 house to her, and there found her in the greatest agitation, the 
 humour quite gone back, and he was a good deal alarmed for 
 her ; but, by care, she is, thank God, recovered. 
 
 " Mrs. Pakenham wrote that night to my sister a letter, I 
 hope you will see, for it was trying to make the matter as light 
 as she could to my poor sister, yet forced to say what, of 
 course, she heard from Mr. P. and Lord Castlereagh. 
 
 "Tuesday, 13 th. 
 " ]My sister brought me the letter in the greatest despair. I 
 was shocked at the event, but by no means alarmed at the 
 description, and told her I was sure Edward ran off to avoid 
 a prison only, and that it would all prove a second edition of 
 Nelson's, <fec. I said this, yet my mind sunk within me at the 
 idea of its being from O'Connor's business. 
 
 " AVednesda}', 14th. 
 " My sister went off early to town with Emmy to break- 
 fast at Mrs. P.'s, appointing C. Fitzgerald to meet her, and 
 wishing to hear from him what he had done relative to my 
 sister and the duke ; but instead of Charles she found Lord 
 Castlereagh, who told her, • Tliough the two brothers differ, 
 yet nature is strong, and Lord Charles was so overcome on 
 Monday, hearing this event, that he set off early on Tuesday 
 for the country, to get out of the way.' 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 167 
 
 " Louisa then asked questious. Lord C. said, ' I fear I 
 cauuot answer your questions, for you know I am bound to 
 secrecy,; but pray don't believe any reports you liear, for, 
 upon my word, nothing has y&t transpired. You may rely on 
 the earnest wishes of government to do all they can for Lord 
 Edward, who is so much loved, and as he can't be found, no 
 harm can happen to him. I pity Lady Edward most exceed- 
 ingly, and will do all in my power to send her back her private 
 letters.' Mr. P. spoke as usual, of Edward, fine fiinnmery, 
 and said he only hoped in God he should not meet him, as it 
 would be a sad struggle between his duty and frie.ndship. 
 Louisa took all this as it was intended she should ; but when 
 she was out of the room, Emily heard Sir G. S. express his 
 hojies that Lord Edward would he caught, and she did not hear 
 or set any thing like a contradiction to this wish from any of 
 the company. 
 
 " From thence Louisa went to Leinster-house, where poor 
 little Pamela's fair, meek, and pitiable account of it all moved 
 her to the greatest degree, and gained my sister's good opinion 
 of her sense and good conduct. My sister charged her not 
 to name his name, — not to give a soul a hint of where he was, 
 if she knew it, and to stay at Leinster-house, seeing everybody 
 that called, and keep strict silence, — to which Pamela agreed. 
 Louisa went back to the set, and told them how meek and 
 gentle Pamela was ; that she did not suppose any of the gov- 
 ernment people would insult her, but underlings might ; that 
 she would, as soon as her breast admitted of it, see everybody 
 who was so good as to call on her, to show she was not plot- 
 ting mischief. They gave great praise to her sense and good 
 conduct (though I hear, before this, Mr. P. had said her sick- 
 ness was a sham), and my sister came home with Dr. Lindsay 
 quite satisfied that, in this miserable business. Lady Edward 
 was secure of his innocence and safety, and government all 
 good-nature ; but still in such horrors about either his having 
 invited the French, or his being punished for it, that she can- 
 not bring herself to name tlie subject without agony. 
 
 " By this time I had heard from others, that all Dublin was 
 in consternation on ^Monday morning ; that upon the papers 
 being carried to council, the chancellor was sent for at the 
 courts to attend it : that he dashed out in a hurrv, and found 
 a mob at the door, who abused him, and he returned the abuse 
 
168 MEMOIRS GF 
 
 by cursing and swearing like a madman. He met Lord West- 
 meath, and they went into a shop and came out with pistols, 
 and the chancellor thus went on foot to council. 
 
 " Thursday, loth. 
 
 " I heard from Mr. Berwick that government had ordered 
 no mention of this transaction should appear in any paper. 
 He told me of the strange absurd reports of their having be- 
 haved so ill in the searches, &c. ; and I told him Lady Ed- 
 ward had written to thank Major O'Kelly for his humane 
 conduct. 
 
 " My sister had promised to go again, but did not. I heard 
 daily from Lady Edward, and found she had recovered her 
 spirits in so sudden a manner, that everybody is convinced she 
 knows where he is, and that he is safe and innocent. I sent 
 her 20/. in case she wanted ready money, but she returned it, 
 and sent me word she had plenty, for that they had some by 
 them, and that she was going to take a house to get out of 
 Leiuster-house, which was grown detestable to her, and to 
 have a quiet home of her own to lie-in in. She bade me tell 
 my sister Leinster to be quite, quite easy. To write would be 
 folly in her, and indeed in us, for all letters are opened now ; 
 so I only wrote to Mrs, Johnson, and made a child direct it, 
 desiring h€.r to send for Mr. Ogilvie, and show it him. We 
 know nothing yet of how my poor sister will take it — I fear 
 very badly. Government intended a proclamation to take 
 Edward, but thought better of it. 
 
 " I was surprised by a visit from Captain M * *. He 
 began a])out Edward : I said I was sure he was innocent, 
 though he made no secret of his opinions, but that nobody 
 dreaded a revolution more, from the goodness of his heart, 
 and that he only ran off, I was sm'e, from the dread of prison. 
 ' But,' said M., ' surely he knew the consequence of sitting at 
 a committee V 'I believe he never was there.' ' Oh ! I beg 
 your pardon,' said M., ' he was seen there, as I understand.' 
 ' I am sure,' said I, * you think your authority good, very 
 naturally, but I douU every authority.' ' But surely,' said he, 
 * they would not dare to take him up without sufficient grounds ?' 
 ' If I had not seen it done twice here, I should think as you 
 do ; but I know all their ways too well, and you will see that 
 I am right.' We then talked of poor Doyle, of M * * 's 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 169 
 
 own situation, who is aid-de-camp to Lord Clanricarde, with 
 whom he was in Corsica, and whom he likes of all things. 
 He spoke with the greatest regard of you, came down on pur- 
 pose to inquire about you, and says he will come whenever 
 you are able to see him. He told me of a servant of Mr. 
 Lee's being killed by a soldier's bayonet the day before in the 
 streets, because some men, among whom was this servant, 
 were seducing soldiers ; that Lord Tyrawly came among them, 
 and tried to send them away. This servant was impertinent 
 to him : he drew his pistols, and a soldier struck the man, 
 who died on the spot. 
 
 "Friday, 16th, 
 
 " Captain M * * seemed to think ill of the U. I. men, 
 and laughed at the farce of everybody going armed with pis- 
 tols, — saying ^ he, never had been attacked, — out at all hours 
 of the night.' 
 
 " Saturday, 17th. 
 
 '' St. Patrick's Day. All quid. 
 
 " The same day came the surveyor that lived with Plaw, 
 merely to acknowledge his obligations to you ; he has been in 
 the Xorth with Lord Downshire, and, being in Dublin could 
 not resist his wish to see you. Mr. Swinburne came, as you 
 know, merely to inquire after you. I suspect he avoided see- 
 ing me on account of Edward's business. 
 
 " Saturday, 24:th. 
 
 " Captain Armstrong came for the third time, and you saw 
 him. From him I heard that the prisoners would come off 
 well ; that there was no committee, only some of them as- 
 sembled to consider what was to be done about the 'prtss. 
 That the report of a dreadful majp, found in Lady Edward's 
 care, was one of Dublin, with notes written by a clever gun- 
 maker,* who had marked the weak parts, and who sent it to 
 Lord Edward. That no sooner had this man heard of the 
 noise it made, than he went to government and said it was 
 
 "^ "Watt}' Cox" the proprietor of the Union Star, a paper which 
 professed to advocate the principles of the United Irishmen, 1>ut was 
 repeatedly denounced by the leaders on account of its sanguinary 
 tendencies. 
 
I TO MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his, which he had shov.-n to Lord Edward, They asked him 
 for what purpose he had drawn it? 'For my own amuse- 
 ment/ said he. So tliat, by Armstrong's account, nothing 
 would come of all this business, and by Lady Edward's and 
 others, I was in hopes it would prove so. Reports say Ed- 
 ward was seen in a postchaise with his brother Charles at 
 Is ewry ; but it is false, I fancy : others that he is at Leinster- 
 house, and at Carton, — all false, I believe. 
 
 *' When Mrs. P. came on Tuesday, Mr. Conolly was setting 
 off. Louisa said she would go and fetch Lady Edward to 
 Castletown, and he forbade it. From Duudaik he wrote, 
 ' There will not be the same objections in June to her coming 
 to Castletown,' We cannot guess what that means. All 
 Saturday we were in expectation of the Naas prisoners' re- 
 turn, and anxious to know their fate. 
 
 " Sunday, 2oth. 
 " This morning, being in your room, my sister "^ came, and 
 I saw she looked disturbed. 
 
 ^ ^; ^ H« ^ 5js 
 
 I took no notice of her looks, but she gave me a letter from 
 Mr, Ogilvie, saying, my poor sister f was supported by her 
 confidence in Edward not deserving any thing by word or 
 deed, but that Sophia and Lucy were terribly affected. He 
 also said that the poor little dutchess J was given over by all 
 who came from Bristol, but that he, the duke, did not see it. 
 This letter accounted to me for her low looks. As she was 
 going, she beckoned me out, and said that she must tell me a 
 secret, though she had reasons not to reveal it ; but since I 
 had determined to sit up this night, it was necessary to tell 
 me not to be alarmed, if, early in the morning, I should hear 
 a bustle, for that an officer, she thinks a Mr. Longfield, came 
 from Xaas, and asking for Mr. Conolly, seemed disappointed. 
 lie then asked to speak to Colonel ]Sapier, and hearing that 
 he was ill, asked if any gentleman vv'as in the house, and at 
 list begged to speak to Louisa herself, who went down to 
 him. He told her that an order was given in General Wil- 
 
 * Lady Louisa Conolly. 
 
 + The dutehess-dowager. Lord Edward's mother. 
 
 :}: The Dutchess of Leinster, 
 
LORD EDTVARD FITZGERALD. 171 
 
 son's district, including this place, to search for arms, and dis- 
 arm everybody. She asked if officers were included ; he suid 
 he believed not ultimately, but that no exclusion was mmle in 
 the order which he siiowed her, signed by General Hewitt, 
 and it is very strict. He asked how many arms she had : 
 she guessed twenty. He said, * Have you twenty servants to 
 use them?' 'Yes.' Then we won't trouble you. For it was 
 the fear of alarming you with all the military that will be 
 about to-morrow early that brought me, and we won't come 
 here, as it is only meant for the disaffected, and others must 
 go through the ceremony,' Louisa said, ' Pray, sir, don't let 
 your civihty interfere with your duty — search the house, if 
 you choose it.' 'That must depend on the magistrates,' said 
 he, ' for Sir Ralph Abercrombie's new order hampers us sadly 
 now. I wish I knew who were disaffected — can you tell me ? ' 
 * Xo,' said Louisa ; ' I can tell you wiio are 7iot, but I don't 
 know who ore ; but may I beg to know if you must go to 
 Colonel N., for he is so ill, it may alarm him to hear a bustle ? ' 
 ' Yes, I suppose we must, but of course we shall give a receipt 
 for the arms, and he will know where to find them." 
 
 " Thus did my dear sister so alter her nature, that she sub- 
 mitted to be disarmed, and leave her house a prey to vaga- 
 bonds — and she was not glad the prisoners were released.* 
 What perversion in the noblest nature may be compassed by 
 cunning, by nerves, and by habits of hearing terror rung in 
 her ears for years ! I had neither time nor thoughts to 
 answer, argue, or try to convince her. I thanked her for the 
 notice, and rejoiced to be prepared; — and on reflection, I now 
 determined to refuse to allow the search, or to give up the 
 arms. And I am loell awake in the expectation of these 
 offenders, who w^ant to leave us to defenders. N. B. The Naas 
 prisoners all returned to Celbridge at six o'clock. 
 
 " In the interim I return to Mr. Henry's conversation in 
 the morning before my sister came. He told me that O'Con- 
 nor would be tried soon, and he understood nothinij: would be 
 done to him, though Mr. Oo:ilvie wrote me word he would be 
 hanged. Henry also says, cntre nous, there was a committee, 
 
 * Tliis alludes to Lady Louisa liaving, the day before, checked some 
 of her sister's children who were expressing their \o\ at the libex'- 
 ation of the prisoners tried at Xaas. 
 
1T2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and that goyernment say they knew of it a month ago ; that 
 the delegates of each province send Iheir delegates to Dublin, 
 and that Edward was to order for Leinster how they were to 
 proceed — as is said. That he staid in Dublin some days, and 
 foolishly was visited by many, and at last removed for fear of 
 being found out. That government made a furious noise for 
 two days, but dropped it in a moment, and that he believes 
 they wish him to escape ; but that he (Henry) fears Edward 
 will be tempted to draw the sword and throw away the scab- 
 bard, for that they (I don't know who Henry includes in they) 
 all sav that if Edward is taken or touched, thev ivoiiH hear it. 
 
 " Now what am I to think of all this ? How far can I 
 rely on Henry's opinion ? who does he take it from ? He 
 also told us Lord Ormond and Sparrow made themselves con- 
 stables, searching for Edward with two dragoons, the latter 
 vowing he would bring him dead or alive ; but all this vapour- 
 ing ceased soon. Henry also told me goxevmaQwi ahuscd Sir 
 Ralph Abercrombie, who was going to resign ; l^ut that, as the 
 king and Dundas were fond of him, it was expected to make 
 a dust first. 
 
 " You asked me to-dav if something was not the matter 
 with me. I tliink with such a load of interesting things on 
 my mind, I fight a good battle with myself, and keep very 
 equal in my attendance and manner to you. What will not 
 affection do, when what we adore may suffer from the least 
 inadvertence ? I made a little trial of your wish about the 
 arms, and your answer decided me, for I am your representa- 
 tive in this iostance. 
 
 " Among these things, I forgot to mention a trifling thing, 
 comparatively speaking, but which agitated me a good deal. 
 On Sunday, 4th, Farrell rode Sam to town for Lindsay, and 
 going into Coyle's a soldier of the Fermanagh pushed the 
 horse out of his way. Farrell was endeavouring to do the 
 same, when another soldier of the same regiment stuck his 
 bayonet in the horse's flank, and wounded him. Farrell call- 
 ed out ; but instantly giving the horse to Coyle's people he 
 ran to examine the man, and marked him in his memory, then 
 returned, attended to the horse, and called everybody to wit 
 ness it. An officer of Frazer's saw it all and said he would 
 write to you ; but hearing you were ill, told Farrell to tell 
 you, when well, that he would vouch for his good conduct. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1*13 
 
 Farrell, not content, went to look for Mr. P. to make his com- 
 plaint ; bnt not finding hira, would not risk being lute, and 
 came home gently with Sam, who I hear is quite well, it being 
 only a flesh wound. All my children and servants were up 
 about this, and I ready to cry for vexation ; but I foresaw 
 that a fuss about it might bring on unpleasant stories, such 
 as your horse being stabbed, and then the soldier's revenge at 
 Farrell, and in short many things to annoy you in your con- 
 valescence ; so I forbade all talk, and took it all on me. I 
 sent to Mr. Kempland, and had the whole told hi?n, desiring 
 the soldier might be properly punished for being a brute to a 
 poor horse, — and not because it was a colonel's horse, but a 
 horse. In some days after Mr, Kempland came to fetch Far- 
 rell to be a witness against the man, at a court-martial, after 
 having kept him in the black-hole a week. I begged to be 
 allowed to obtain his pardon, upon condition he would promise 
 never to hurt any horse again, and to have hira told that I 
 forgave him, in hopes it would make him more sorry for his 
 fault than if I got him punished. Mr. K. seemed much pleas- 
 ed with my commission, and I hope it will meet with your 
 approbation, as I did it exactly as I thought yo2i ivoidd do. 
 Since that I send my horses to Mrs. P. or Moira-house, 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that Captain Hamilton brought me a 
 letter from General X,, by which I see poor Mrs, Oswald is 
 dead, and your poor aunt in the greatest affliction. 
 
 " Thursday, 29th March. 
 " I now return to the 'a7-7ns, which you know the sequel of.*^ 
 It cost me very uneasy nights, I own, expecting a domiciliary 
 visit daily. We have heard from my sister Leinster, and 
 she shows so much sense, firmness, and resignation to what- 
 ever mav be the event, that I am charmed with her elevated 
 and spirited character, and trust it will save her from many 
 hours of misery which poor Louisa, passes so unnecessarily for 
 want of using her reason. As I mean to show you this to- 
 morrow, I shall stop." 
 
 The reader has seen from this Journal, that, after the arrests 
 
 * Her ladyship refused to deliver up the arms, and there was no 
 further step taken about them. 
 
lU 
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of the 1 2tli of March, neither Lord Edward's brother or aunts 
 were at all aware of what had become of him. Whether it 
 had been his intention to attend tlie meeting at Bond's does 
 not appear from the evidence, but that he was one of those 
 whom the officers expected to find there was manifest. On the 
 issuing of the separate warrant against him, they lost no time, 
 as we see, in putting it into execution, and were actually in 
 Leinster-house, making their search, when, having hastened 
 home, hearing of the arrests, he was on the point of entering 
 it. His faithful Tony, however, being on the look-out for him, 
 he received notice of what was going on in time to escape. It 
 is difficult, however fruitless such a feeling must be, not to min- 
 gle a little regret with the reflection that had he happened, on 
 this day, to have been one of the persons arrested at Bond's, 
 not onlv might his own life, from the turn affairs afterward 
 took, have been spared, but much of the unavailing bloodshed 
 that was now to follow have been prevented. 
 
 Another striking part of the fatality which seems to have 
 marked his every step, was, that he himself should have been 
 the chief cause of the informer Reynolds's promotion to those 
 posts of honour and trust in the confederacy which gave him 
 ultimately so much the power of betraying it. His lordship 
 had, it appears, taken a kind and active part in some negotia- 
 tion relative to a lease between Reynolds and the Duke of 
 Leinster, and being deceived, in the course of this transaction, 
 by an appearance of honesty and respectability in the man, 
 was induced, in the unsuspiciousness of his own nature, to 
 place entire confidence in him. To what an extent he carried 
 this reliance, the following extracts from Reynolds's deposi- 
 tions will show : — 
 
 "In the month of November, 119T, Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald called upon me, at my house in Park-street, and said 
 that he came to request me to become a colonel for the barony 
 of Kilkea and Moon, in which barony I had then purchased a 
 place. I at first hesitated, but he used many arguments, and 
 I at length agreed to accept the command. 
 
 " Lord Edward then said, ' That there was an honest man 
 in the county of Kildare, Matthew Kennaa, who would call 
 and speak to me about my election to be colonel.' About the 
 latter end of January, 1798, Matthew Kennaa came to me, 
 and asked whether I would stand my election for colonel, on 
 
LORD ED-^VARD FITZGERALD. 175 
 
 which I told liim that I would, as Lord Edward had been 
 speaking to me about it. Kennaa then said that he knew his 
 lordship had been speaking to me on the subject, and adding, 
 that it was intended I should hold a civil as well as military 
 employment, asked me which I should prefer, being a treasurer 
 or a secretary. To this I answered, that I would rather be a 
 treasurer. 
 
 " About the 24th of February I went down to the Black 
 Rock with Curamings and M'Cann of Grafton-street to dine 
 with Lord Edward, where I found Huirh Wilson. It was 
 after dinner on that day, that Lord Edward gave me the reso- 
 lutions and returns of the National Committee,* with copies 
 of which I furnished ]Mr. Cope for the government. 
 
 " I expressed some doubts to Lord Edward, whether the 
 United men could stand in battle before the king's troops, but 
 he replied to me, ' That would not be altogether necessary, as 
 assistance from France was expected ; that then some of the 
 
 * These papers were all in Lord Edward's hand-writing. Tlie re- 
 turns will give some notion of the forcj which he might have been 
 able to rally round him had he lived. 
 
 ''National Committee, 2&th Feb. 1798. 
 
 " Ulster and Munster made no new returns this time, but stato 
 their former returns asrain of last Monday. 
 
 O x/ 
 
 
 Armed Men. 
 
 Finances in hand, 
 
 Ulster 
 
 - 110,990 
 
 £436 2 4 
 
 Munster 
 
 - 100,634 
 
 147 17 2 
 
 Kildare 
 
 10,863 
 
 110 17 7 
 
 Wicklow 
 
 12,895 
 
 93 6 4 
 
 Dublin 
 
 3.010 
 
 87 2 6 
 
 Dublin City 
 
 2,177 
 
 321 17 11 
 
 Queen's County 
 
 11,089 
 
 91 2 1 
 
 King's County 
 
 3,600 
 
 21 11 3 
 
 Carlo w 
 
 9,414 
 
 49 2 10 
 
 Kilkenny 
 
 624 
 
 10 2 3 
 
 Meath 
 
 1,400 
 
 171 2 1 
 
 279,896 £1,485 4 9" 
 
 Among the resolutions was the following, alluding to some concili- 
 atory motion which was then about to be brought forward by Lord 
 Moira: — 
 
 " Kesolved, that we will pay no attention whatever to any attempts 
 that may be made by either House of Parliament, to divert the pub- 
 lic mind from the grand object which we have in view, as nothing 
 short of the complete emaucipatiou of our country will satisfy us." 
 
1T6 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 United men would certainly join in the French lines, and of 
 course would soon become disciplined ; but as to the multitude, 
 all they would have to do would be to harass the escorts of 
 ammunition, cut oil" detachments and foraj^in;^ parties, and, in 
 line, make the kin,<i,'s troops feel themselves in every respect in 
 an enemy's country, while tlie actual battles would be left to 
 the foreign troops.' '' 
 
 The very day before the arrest of the meeting at Bond's a 
 conversation which we find thus detailed l)y tlie informer him- 
 self, took i)lace between him and his noble patron : — " About 
 four o'clock, on Sunday the lltii of March, I called at Leins- 
 ter House, upon Lord Edward Fitzgerald. I had a printed 
 jiapcr in my hand, which I had picked uj) somewliere, purport- 
 ing to ))e directions or orders signed l)y Counsellor Saurin to 
 the Lawyers' Corjjs. These recjuired tliem, in case of riot or 
 alarm, to repair to Smithheld, and such as had not ball-cart- 
 ridge were to get them at his house, and such as were going 
 out of town and did not think their arms safe, were to depo- 
 site them with him ; and there was a little paper inside, which 
 mentioned tiuit their orders were to be kept secret. Lord Ed- 
 ward Fitzgerald, upon wading this })aper, seemed greatly agi- 
 tated : he said he thought government intended to arrest him, 
 and he wished lie could get to France, to hasten the invasion, 
 which he could do by his intimacy with Talleyrand Ferigord, one 
 of the French ministers. He said he would not approve of a 
 general invasion at first, but that the French had some very 
 tine fast-sailing frigates, and that he would put on board them 
 as many English and Irish officers as he could procure to come 
 over from France, and as many men as were capable of drilling, 
 and stores and annnunition of dilferent kinds, and run them 
 into some port in this country ; he said he thought Wexford 
 might do : that it would be unsus[)ected, and if they succeed- 
 ed they could establish a rallying point, until other help 
 should come. 
 
 " Lord Edward, after this conversation, walked up and 
 down the room in a very agitated manner : * No,' said he, * it 
 is impossible, government cannot be informed of it ; they 
 never have been aljle to know where the provincial meet.' 
 Shortly after this, the servant came and asked was he ready 
 for dinner. I went away ; — he wanted me to stay to dinner, 
 but I would not." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1*77 
 
 In makini^ his terms vvitli the jrovermiient, it was one of 
 the conditions insisted upon hy Reynolds, that the channel 
 throngli which tiie information came should remain for some 
 time a secret ; — a stipulation in which his employers were no 
 less interested than himself, as by wearing still the mask of a 
 friend, he could retain still the confidence of those he was be- 
 traying, and whatever victims his first aim had missed might, 
 from the same ami)ush, be made sure of afterward. In jjur- 
 suance of this policy, we find him, as he himself admits, pay- 
 ing a friendly visit to JNIrs. Bond, two or tiiree days after he 
 had marked her husband for death ; and even to Lord Ed- 
 ward, whose place of concealment at this moment was kept 
 secret, as we have seen, from his own family, this man, under 
 the trust reposed in him, found ready admittance ; and, again 
 abusing the frank confidence he had inspired, was enabled to 
 return to his employers armed with fresh proofs, which, though 
 unavailing, as it turned out, against the noble Edward him- 
 self, were reserved for the posthumous revenge of disinheriting 
 his offspring. The following is Reynolds's own account of what 
 passed on this occasion ; and it would be a task worthy of a 
 great painter, to consign to canvass his conception of what an 
 interview between two such persons, under such circumstances, 
 must have been ; — doing justice at once to the ardour, the 
 gallant bearing, the elevation above all guile and suspicion, 
 that characterized one of the parties, and the cool purpose of 
 deceit, yet consciousness of degradation, which, to any eye 
 perhaps but his victim's, must have been visible through the 
 plausibility of the other : — 
 
 " I saw Lord Edward Fitzgerald the Wednesday night 
 after, in Aungier-street, at Dr. Kennedy's having been brought 
 to his place of concealment there. I had little conversation 
 with him at that time, but he desired me to come to him the 
 following evening, at the same place. I did so, and he brought 
 me u}) stairs, and gave me a paper, which he desired me to 
 deliver as an address from him to the county, desiring them 
 not to mind what had passed, as it signified nothing ; but to 
 fill up the vacancies occasioned by the arrest at Bond's as soon 
 as possible, as the time was at hand when they should be call- 
 ed into action, and they might rely on his being in his place 
 on the day of need. 
 
178 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " He also told me, that he had in his hands £13 as trea- 
 surer of the barony of Ofifally, and £32 as treasurer to the 
 county of Kildare, which two sums he would take care to have 
 handed over to me. Lord Edward then went away from the 
 house in disguise, under care of a gentleman whom I believe 
 to have been a Mr, Lawless, a surgeon." 
 
 That Reynolds promptly gave information to his employers 
 of the place and circumstances of this interview, there can be 
 hardly any doubt ; and that they should have let pass such 
 an opportunity of seizing their noble prey, can only be ac- 
 counted for either by his quick change of place, Avhich baffled 
 their pursuit, or more probably by that wish to afford him a 
 chance of quitting the country, which it is well known one at 
 least of the powerful members of the cabinet at this time en- 
 tertained. The thought of abandoning, however, for a single 
 moment, the post of peril assigned to him, had never once 
 entered into Lord Edward's dauntless mind. The very cala- 
 mity that had just befallen the cause but bound a spirit like 
 his more ardently to its service. To repair the breaches made 
 in the organization by these arrests, — no less than three mem- 
 bers of the Leinster executive * havino- been seized at Bond's, 
 — was now the first great object of his lordship and his friends ; 
 and, with such promptitude was this effected, that, on the 
 very evening of the arrests, three other persons were found to 
 fill the vacant places. So anxious, indeed, were they to have 
 it supposed by the people that this discovery had but little 
 deranged their plans, that we find shortly after, one of the 
 delegates, in his report to an Leister meeting, assuring them 
 confidently, that the Leinster committee had recovered wholly 
 from their shock, and that within four days after the arrests, 
 the whole province had been again completely organized. 
 
 In order to calm, too, the minds of their followers, and 
 prevent either the panic of some, or the premature violence 
 of others, from having any injurious consequences, they drew 
 up hand-bills, in styles suited to their various readers, and had 
 them distributed among the initiated. From one of these the 
 following ably written paragraphs are extracted : — 
 
 * Towards the close of the year 1797, instead of the affairs of the 
 Union being, as before, under the control of one supreme directory, 
 sitting in Dublin, there was an executive committee established for 
 each of the four provinces. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 179 
 
 " For us, the keen but momenturj anxiety, occasioned by the 
 situation of our invakiable friends, subsided, on learning all 
 the circumstances of the case, into a cahn tranquilUty, a con- 
 soling^ conviction of mind, that they are as safe as innocence 
 can make men no\Y ; to these sentiments were quickly added 
 a redoubled energ-y, a tenfold activity of exertion which has 
 already produced the happiest effects. The organization of 
 the capital is perfect ; no vacancies existing. Arrangements 
 have been made, and are still making, to secure for our op- 
 pressed brethren, whose trials approach, the benefit of legal 
 defence : and the sentinels whom you have appointed to watch 
 over your interests stand firm at their posts, vigilant of events, 
 and prompt to give notice and advice, which, on every occa- 
 sion at all requiring it, you may rely on receiving. 
 
 '' This recital. Irishmen, is meant to guard those of you 
 who are remote from the scene of the late events against the 
 conseqnences of misrepresentation and mistake. The most 
 unfounded rumours have been set afloat, fabricated for the 
 double purpose of delusion and intimidation. Your enemies 
 talk of treachery, in the vain and fallacious hope of creating 
 it ; but you, vrho scorn equally to be their dupes or their slaves, 
 will meet their forgeries with dignified contempt, incapable of 
 being either goaded into untimely violence, or sunk into pusil- 
 lanimous despondency. Be firm. Irishmen, but be cool and 
 cautious ; be patient yet a while ; trust to no unauthorized 
 communications ; and, above all, we warn you, again and 
 again we warn you, against doing the work of your tyrants, 
 by premature, by partial, or divided exertion. If Ireland 
 shall be forced to throw away the scabbard, let it be at her 
 own time, not at theirs. 
 
 "Dublin, March ITtli (St. Patrick's Day), 1798." 
 
 While putting in train all these measures for the retrieval 
 of their affairs, another essential object with them was to pro- 
 cure, somewhere near Dublin, a place of concealment for their 
 noble leader, till circumstances should require his presence ia 
 the capital. With this view Mr. Lawless, — the gentleman 
 mentioned in Reynolds's evidence, — applied to a friend of his, 
 a widow lady, who occupied a retired house on the banks of 
 the canal,* in the immediate neighbourhood of Dublin ; and 
 
 * ^r3. Dillon, n«ar the first lock on the Grand Canal. 
 
180 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 who, besides being known not to entertain sentiments un- 
 friendly to the popular cause, was a person of that strong 
 character of mind and generosity of spirit which alone can 
 qualify women to be heroines in such exigencies. To her 
 sympatliy Mr. Lawless felt assured his appeal in behalf of 
 his friend would not be vain. Though knowing; nothino: 
 more of Lord Edward than what fame brought to every ear, 
 she consented, perilous as was such hospitality, to afford him 
 the shelter of her roof ; and it was to this lady's house that, 
 on the night of the Thursday after the arrest at Bond's, he 
 was conveyed, in disguise, by Mr. Lawless, — having contrived 
 to see Lady Edward and his children before he went. 
 
 Her ladyship had, immediately on the disappearance of 
 Lord Edward, removed from the Duke of Leinster's to a 
 house in Denzille-street, taking with her an attached female 
 servant, and her husband's favourite Tony. The two latter 
 believed, — as did most people, — that their master had fled to 
 Frauce, and it was therefore with no small surprise that the 
 maid-servant (as she herself told the person from whom I heard 
 the anecdote) saw, on going into her lady's room late in the 
 evening, his lordship and Lady Edward sitting together by the 
 light of the fire. The youngest child had, at his desire, been 
 brought down out of its bed for him to see it, and both he 
 and Lady Edward were, as the maid thought, in tears. 
 
 The name he went by while at the house of the widow lady 
 was Jameson, and an old and faithful maid-servant of the 
 family was the only person allowed to wait upon him. He 
 had not, however, Ijeen more than tvro days in the house, 
 when one of those slight accidents which seem to defy all 
 caution made the secret known to the whole family. A pair 
 of his boots having been left outside his door to be cleaned, 
 the man-servant to whom they had been given for that pur- 
 pose told his mistress afterward that he knew " who the gen- 
 tleman up-stairs was ; — but that she need not fear, for he 
 would die to save him." He then showed her Lord Edward's 
 name written, at full length, in one of the boots. Thinking 
 it possible that, after such a discovery, her guest might deem 
 it dangerous to remain, Mrs. * "^ mentioned the circumstance 
 to him. But his fears were not easily awakened : — " What a 
 noble fellow!" he exclaimed ; "I should like to have some 
 talk with him." In the hope that it n:iight be an incitement 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 181 
 
 to the man's fidelity, the lady told hhn his lordship's wish ; 
 but he answered, "No, — I will not look at him — for, if they 
 should take me up, I can then, you know, swear that I never 
 saw him.'- 
 
 Though Mr. Lawless had requested shelter but for a few 
 davs for his friend, he continued to remain in this unsuspected 
 retreat near a mouth ; and as it was feared that to one ac- 
 customed so much to exercise confinement might prove inju- 
 rious, he used to walk out, most nights, along the banks of 
 the canal, accompanied generally by a child, who became a 
 great favourite of his, and whom it was his amusement some- 
 times to frighten by jumping into the boats that were half- 
 sunk in the reservoir or basin of the canal. So light-hearted, 
 indeed, and imprudent was he at times, that Mrs. * *, who, 
 during his absence on these walks, was kept in a constant 
 state of anxiety and suspense, used often to hear him, at a 
 considerable distance, laughing with his young companion, and 
 more than once went out to meet them, and try to impress 
 upon him the necessity of more caution. 
 
 Another subject of merriment between him and his young 
 playfellow arose from a large bed of orange lilies which grew 
 at the bottom of the garden, and which they had conspired 
 together to root up, some day, when Mrs. "^ * should be from 
 home. 
 
 Among the kind and attaching qualities by which her noble 
 guest was distinguished, none struck Mrs. * * more forcibly 
 than the affectionate solicitude with which he never ceased to 
 think of Lady Edward and his children ; and, in order to 
 tranquillize his anxieties on this head, she herself went more 
 than once to Denzille-street, — taking every precaution, of 
 course, against being watched or tracked, — to make inquiries 
 about his family. She found Lady Edward, who always ran 
 to embrace her as if they had been the oldest friends, full of 
 gratitude for the attentions bestowed upon her husband ; and 
 she also, in the course of these visits, saw the faithful Tony, 
 w^ho lamented to her that "his unfortunate face prevented 
 him from going to see his dear master."' 
 
 Of the feelings of his lordship's family during this interval, 
 wholly uncertain as they were all left respecting his fate, the 
 following letter to Lord Henry Fitzgerald from one of his re- 
 
182 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 latives may afford some notion. Lord Henry was at the time 
 at Boyle Farm, his villa on the Thames : — 
 
 Hanover Square, 21st March, 1798. 
 
 " My Dear Henry, 
 
 " I have been making all possible inquiry, and find that no 
 further accomits respecting Edward have arrived. There is a 
 mail to-day from Waterford, which, I understand, mentions 
 that several families had fled to Bristol. I find your family 
 here are easv, and satisfied with the accounts thev have re- 
 ceived. I wish thev mav have reason to be so, but I hear 
 reports so very different, and from such authority, that I can- 
 not entirely disbelieve them. I confess I should not have the 
 least reliance on Lady Edward's story, as I believe it to be a 
 fact that a pocket-book of great consequence is now in the 
 hands of the Duke of Portland, and which was taken from 
 her. 
 
 " It is said that his escape will probably be connived at, 
 thouorh I believe that to be verv far from the wishes of our 
 ministers in England. If I hear anything, you may depend 
 upon my letting you know immediately. Let me hear if you 
 intend being in town this week or soon. I most sincerely feel 
 for you all, and hope that, before it is long, you will have ac- 
 counts that will set your minds at ease. I returned from 
 Bulstrode yesterday. I hope our party there may still take 
 place shortly. Remember me kindly to Lady Henry. Assure 
 her, I pity her sincerely for being drawn into a fatal connexion 
 with such a nest of Jacobins. 
 
 *' Adieu. Ever vours, 
 
 " E. L." 
 
 I have already mentioned that there was, about the time of 
 the arrests at Bonds, a very sincere wish on the part of one of 
 the principal members of the Irish cabinet, that Lord Edward's 
 friends might be able to induce him, by timely flight, to avert 
 the fate which, it was then evident, hung over him ; and, how- 
 ever strong the abhorrence in which I must ever hold Lord 
 Clare's political conduct, it gives me, for more than one reason, 
 no ordinary pleasure to be able so far to do justice to the kind- 
 lier feelings of his nature, as to state that it was by him this 
 truly humane and generous wish was entertained. 
 
LORD ED"^ARD FITZGERALD. 183 
 
 A short time before the arrests of the 1 2th of March, when 
 the government were ah*eady furnished with fall proof against 
 Lord Edward, Mr. Ogilvie, who had been himself but too 
 painfully aware of the extent to which his young relative had 
 committed himself in the conspiracy, hurried over to DuliHn, 
 for the purpose of making one more effort to impress uj)on him 
 the fearfulness of his position, and endeavour to detach him 
 from the confederacy. In an interview which he had, shortly 
 after his arrival, with Lord Clare, that nobleman expressed 
 himself with the most friendly warmth on the subject, saying, 
 " For God's sake get this voung man out of the countrv : the 
 ports shall be thrown open to you, and no hindrance whatever 
 offered." 
 
 Lord Edward was, however, immoveable : at the very time 
 when Mr. Ogilvie called upon him, there was a meeting of the 
 chief conspirators in the house, and his lordship came out of 
 the room where they were assembled to speak with him. In 
 vain did his adviser try every means of argument and persua- 
 sion : though as alive as ever to the kindness of his old friend, 
 the noble chief could only answer, " It is now out of the ques- 
 tion : I am too deeply pledged to these men to be able to 
 withdraw with honour." 
 
 It is right to add, that as the plans of the plot became fur- 
 ther unfolded, the alarm of the government for their own ex- 
 istence superseded every other thought, and all considerations 
 of mercy were lost in their fears. At the period, therefore, 
 where we are now arrived, the search after his lordship, by the 
 emissaries of authority, was pursued with as much eagerness 
 as political zeal, urged by fear and revenge, could inspire. 
 
 As it would have been difficult to find a retreat more suited 
 to his purpose, he would, no doubt, have remained at Mrs.* * 's 
 some time longer, had not a circumstance which now occurred 
 awakened some fears for his safety. During the absence one 
 day, of the lady of the house, the maid-servant came in alarm 
 to tell him that she had just seen a guard of soldiers, with 
 fixed bayonets, pass on the other side of the canal. " And I, 
 too, said Lord Edward, " have observed, within these ten 
 minutes, a man whom I know to be a police-officer looking up 
 earnestly at the house." The maid, whose terrors were 
 naturally increased by the responsibility now thrown upon her, 
 made him instantly put on a lady's night-dress and get into 
 
184 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 bed ; then darkening the room, as for a person indisposed, she 
 placed a table, with medicine-bottles upon it, beside the bed. 
 In this situation he remained for two hours, — but neither police- 
 man nor soldiers again made their appearance ; and the scene 
 served but as a subject of mirth for the evening's conversation. 
 It excited, however, some fears ; — even his own sense of secu- 
 rity w^as disturbed by it, and his friends thought it most pru- 
 dent that he should, for a time at least, remove to Dublin, 
 where, in the house of a respectable feather-merchant, named 
 Murphy, in Thomas-street, he was to be allowed to lie concealed 
 for some days. 
 
 "While the noble fugitive was thus evading their toils, the 
 government, whose apprehensions still increased in proportion 
 as fresh disclosures, every day, revealed to them the extent to 
 which the foundations of their authority had been undermined, 
 made the whole country at length participators of their panic 
 by a proclamation which appeared on the 30th of March, de- 
 clarino' the entire kiuo-dom in a state of rebellion : and at the 
 same time with this proclamation appeared an order signed by 
 Sir Ralph Abercrombie, authorizing the troops to act without 
 waiting for the authority of a civil magistrate.'^ 
 
 * It was on finding himself, as he thought, compelled by a sense of 
 obedience to affix his name to this order, in opposition to all liis own 
 expressed opinions both in public and in the council, that Sir R. Aber- 
 crombie wrote to request that lie might be recalled from his command. 
 There could scarcely, indeed, be any severer comment upon the acts 
 of the Irisli government at this period than what a record of the 
 opinions entertained of it, both by Sir Ralph Abercrombie and Sir 
 John Moore would furnish. Called to act, as they were, in this fright- 
 ful struggle, at a time when its last convulsion was so near, and when, 
 — if ever, — the violence of the government might seem to be justified 
 by its danger, these humane and sensible men yet saw too clearly how 
 the danger had been brought about to feel much sympathy for the 
 part\^ whose own inj^ustice had provoked it; nor, while loyally assisting 
 the authorities in their present measures of self-defence, could they 
 forget that a little more tolerance and justice would have rendered 
 such measures unnecessary. Neither was it so much to the govern- 
 ment as to the gentry of the old dominant party that the mischiefs 
 which the}- saw, both actual and to come were attributed by them ; 
 for it is known that Sir John Moore, in reporting to the lord-lieutenant 
 the state of quiet to which, in the summer of 1798, the county of 
 Wicklo'.v had been reclaimed b}' him, added, that " though the presence 
 of the troops might perhaps be necessary for some time longer, it would 
 be more to check the yeomen and Protestants than the people m 
 general." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 185 
 
 As this revival of the famous order of Lord Carhampton, 
 in 179T, gave full loose to all the license of the soldiery, while 
 by indemnity bills the magistracy were no less encouraged to 
 pass the bounds of the law, those who know what an Orange 
 Magistrate was in those times of terror, and recollect Sir Ralph 
 Abercrombie's own description of th^ army then under him, 
 that " it was in a state of licentiousness that rendered it for- 
 midable to every one but the enemy," may be left to picture 
 to themselves some of the horrors to which, between bench 
 and camp, the people of Ireland were now systematically 
 delivered up by their rulers. That it was done on system has 
 been since avowed, — the professed object being to goad the 
 wretched multitude into revolt before the arrival of a French 
 force should render their outbreak more formidable ; and with 
 such over-zeal and efficacy was this work of torture performed, 
 that in the county of Wexford, where the United Irish system 
 had but little extended itself, the effects of the floggings and 
 burnings now introduced there by the loyalists was to convert 
 it into one of the worst hotbeds of the rebellion that followed. 
 
 While such was the plan of the government, upon Lord 
 Edward and his friends, whose policy it was to prevent a pre- 
 mature rising, fell the far more difficult task of reining in the 
 impatience of the maddened people, so as not, at the same 
 time, to break their spirit or allow them to fancy themselves 
 deceived. To effect this purpose, all the influence of the ex- 
 ecutive was now directed, — weakened, however, as that influ- 
 ence had to a considerable extent, become, as well from the 
 necessary disappearance of Lord Edward himself from the 
 scene, "^^ as from the far inferior intellects that had now joined 
 
 * That he was not lost sight of, however, in the "mind's eye" of the 
 people appears from ]>assages such as the following, in the publications 
 of the da}^ : — " And thou, noble-minded j'outh, whose princely virtues 
 acquire new splendour from a fervent zeal for your country's rights, — ■ 
 oh may the Genius of Liberty, ever faithful to its votaries, guard your 
 steps ! — may the new harp of Erin vibrate its thrilling sounds through 
 the land to call you forth and hail vou with the angelic crv of the 
 Deliverer of our Country!" (Marcli 27, 1798.) In another address 
 we find — "When an O'Connor is hunted from liis country for the 
 crime of loving Ireland, when Fitzgerald is a fugitive for sacrificing 
 the prejudices of birth to accelerate the happiness of his native land, 
 <tc. <L'c." 
 
186 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 him at the hehu ; Mr. Lawless* being the only man of real 
 ability whom the late seizure of the other chiefs had left re- 
 maining by his side. All was done, however, that, under such 
 circumstances, could be effected, to sustain the liopes of the 
 people ; and early in April, we find delegates despatched to 
 the North and elsewhere, to spread the intelligence that all 
 was in readiness in the French ports for invasion, and that 
 about the middle of the month it was expected the troops 
 would be on board. 
 
 But while holding forth this expectation to their followers, 
 the chiefs themselves could not but be well aware that their 
 chance of any effective assistance from France was now con- 
 siderably diminished. At no time, indeed, among a purely 
 military people like the French, could a species of warfare so 
 much dependent upon naval tactics for its success have been 
 expected to be very popular ; and the result of the two ex- 
 periments, on a grand scale, against Ireland was not such as 
 could tend to remove their indisposition to such enterprises. 
 The gallant Hoche, who alone felt sanguinely on this subject, 
 was now no more ; and the great man who was at this time 
 beginning to direct the fortunes of France looked with no 
 favouring eye either upon the Irish or their cause. 
 
 At this time, indeed, when the termination of his glorious 
 campaign in Italy left Buonaparte at leisure to turn his atten- 
 tion to this subject, the number of fugitives from Ireland in 
 Paris had very much increased ; and the indifferent characters 
 of some, with the mutual jealousies and bickerings of almost 
 all, — each setting himself forth as more important and trust- 
 worthy than the others, — brought discredit both on them- 
 selves and on the country of which they were the self-elected 
 organs. Neither can it be at all doubted that Buonaparte, 
 at this period of his career, when already he saw the imperial 
 crown glimmering in the distance, had begun to shrink from 
 the contact of revolutionists and levellers, and to view with 
 feelings anticipatory, as it were, of the future Emperor, those 
 
 * This gentleman, whom I knew slightly, and who was a person of 
 that mild and quiet exterior which is usually found to accompany the 
 most determined spirits, made his escape to France at the time of the 
 apprehension of the ISheares's, and rising afterwards to be a genei-al 
 in the French service, lost a leg in one of the engagements at "Wal- 
 cberen. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 18T 
 
 principles out of which his own power had sprung ; — well 
 knowing that these principles were even more i)otent to over- 
 turn than to elevate, and that he had lienceforth no choice but 
 to be their victim or their master. It is not to be wondered 
 at, therefore, that a race like tiie Irish, among whom rebellion 
 had, he knew, been handed down, from age to age, as a sort 
 of birth-right, should be regarded by the candidate for empire 
 with no very friendly eye, or that the energies of Franco 
 which he now wielded should be diverted to objects more con- 
 sonant with his designs. Had he happened to view Ireland 
 and her cause witli Hoche's eyes, who can say what might 
 have been the result ? — That he himself, in his latter days, 
 repented of not having played the game of ambition other- 
 wise, appears strongly from his own avowal at St. Helena : — 
 " If instead," he is represented to say, " of the expedition to 
 Egypt, I had undertaken that against Ireland, what could 
 England have done now ? — On such chances do the destinies 
 of empires depend ! " * 
 
 We left Lord Edward on his way from Mrs. * * 's to take 
 refuge in the house of Mr. Murphy of Thomas-street, wliither 
 he was brought by his friend Lawless, wrapped up in a coun- 
 tryman's great-coat, and, in order the more completely to dis- 
 guise him, wearing a pig-tailed wig. Though his host had 
 seen him frequently before, he was now, for the first time, 
 made known to him as an acquaintance. During th^ fortnight 
 his lordship passed with him at this period, he lived much the 
 same sort of life as at Mrs. * *'s, walking out often at night, 
 along with his host, by the canal, and receiving the visits but 
 
 * " Si au lieu de I'expedition de TEgypte, j'eusse fait cello de I'lr- 
 lande, — si de legers derangements n'avaient mis obstacle a mon entre- 
 prise de Boulogne, que pourrait I'Angleterre aujourd'hui ? A quoi 
 tierinent les destinees des empires ! "-^Memoires de Las Casas. If there 
 be not some error in reporting this remark of Xapoleon. it would ap- 
 pear to imply, that Ireland -svas, after all, the real object of the Bou- 
 logne armament. — See, for some remarks upon this subject, the acute 
 and able Commentary on the Memoirs of Tone, by Colonel Roche 
 Fermoy. 
 
 So ill protected was the south of Ireland at this time, notwithstand- 
 ing all the warnings that had been given, that when Sir Ralph Alter- 
 cronibie made a calculation of the number of troops that could be 
 collected, in case the enemy should appear at Bantrj- or the Shannon, 
 he found that, in the course of four or five days, six thousand would 
 W the utmost he could muster ! 
 
188 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of two or three persons, among whom were, if I am rightly 
 informed, Major Plunket * and another miUtary gentleman, 
 of the rank of colonel, named Lumra. To this latter officer 
 Lord Edward had despatched a note, immediately on his ar- 
 rival, by Murphy, who returned, attended by Colonel Lumm, 
 to Thomas-street, taking the precaution to walk before him 
 all the way. 
 
 As it was now more than a month since he had seen any 
 of his family, he could no longer restrain his impatience for 
 an interview with them, but, insisting that Mr. Murphy should 
 dress him in woman's clothes, went, attended by his host, in 
 that disguise, to Denzille-street. The surprise, however, had 
 nearly proved fatal to Lady Edward. Some friend being with 
 her at the moment, the servant came to say that there was a 
 lady in the parlour waiting to see her ; and, on Lady Edward 
 discoveriuij; who it was, and that he meant to remain till next 
 night, her alarm at his danger, and her anxiety about his re- 
 turn, brought on a premature confinement, and her second 
 daughter, Lucy, was then born. 
 
 From the house of Mr. Murphy, his lordship, at the end of 
 a fortnight, was removed to Mr. Cormick's another feather- 
 merciiant, in the same street ; and, between this and the resi- 
 dence of Mr. Moore, but a few doors distant, contrived to 
 pass his time safe from detection till about the first week in 
 May. As the connexions of Cormick and Moore, both men 
 of extensive trade, lay chiefly among that class of persons 
 who were most likely to be implicated in the conspiracy, their 
 houses were of course the resort of most of those individuals 
 with whom it was of importance that Lord Edward should 
 communicate upon the business he had in train, — a convenience 
 which, while it facilitated his plans of concert with his follow- 
 ers, at the same time endangered his safety, by putting in the 
 power of so many more persons the secret of his concealment- 
 It is, indeed, suspected by those best acquainted with his posi- 
 tion at this period, that it was among the company he so 
 rashly permitted to be collected around him at Cormick's and 
 
 * To this gentleman, who had been in the Austrian service, I find 
 the following allusion in the Personal Narrative of tlje Rebellion by 
 Mr. Charles Teeling : — " Pluuket, that intrepid soldier of fortune, 
 whose fame will be recorded while Buda or the Danube are remem- 
 bered." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 189 
 
 Moore's, that lie met the person whose imprudence or treach- 
 ery afterward betrayed him. How unguardedly his hfe was 
 placed at the mercy of every chance visiter will be seen hy 
 the following extracts from the evidence of a person of the 
 name of Hughes, takeu before a committee of the Lords, in 
 August, 1798. 
 
 " Deponent went to Dublin on the 20th of April, and re- 
 mained there about nine days. He called on Samuel Neilson, 
 and walked with him to Mr. Cormick, a feather-merchant in 
 Thomas-street. He was introduced by Neilson to Cormick, 
 in the office. Cormick asked them to go up stairs ; he and 
 Keilson went up stairs, and found Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
 and Mr. Lawless, the surgeon, playing at billiards. He had 
 been introduced to Lord Edward, about a year before, by 
 Teeling ; he was a stranger to Lawless ; staid about an hour ; 
 no particular conversations ; was invited to dine there that 
 day, and did so ; the company were, Lord Edward, Lawless, 
 Neilson, Cormick, and his wife. The conversation turned 
 upon the state of the country, and the violent measures of 
 government in letting the army loose. The company were all 
 of opinion, that there was then no chance of the jDcople resist- 
 ing by force with any success." 
 
 Notwithstanding the opinion here reported, it had, at this 
 time, become manifest, both to Lord Edward himself and the 
 greater number of those who acted with him, that the appeal 
 to arms could not be much longer delayed ; and that, there 
 being now little hope of the promised aid from France, by 
 Irish hands alone must the cause of Ireland be lost or won. 
 Among those who had, from the first, insisted on the necessity 
 of French aid, one or two still strongly deprecated any unas- 
 sisted effort, and even withdrew from the meetings of the con- 
 spiracy on learning that such a course was to be pursued. 
 Well intentioned, however, as were the views of these persons. 
 Lord Edward could not but recollect, that to the prevalence 
 of the same timid advisers, in the year 1797, was owing the 
 loss of one of the most precious moments for action that for- 
 tune had ever presented to them ; when their Union was still 
 in full strength and heart, and treachery had not yet found its 
 way into their councils. Even granting, too, that to refrain 
 from action would have been the true policy at this moment, 
 such a course, in the present headlong temper of th? people — 
 
190 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 goaded, as they were, by every torment that tyranny could 
 devise, — had become wholly impracticable. It was not for 
 those, tlierefore, who had cheered them to tlie combat, to let 
 them now plunge into it alone, nor, however desperate the 
 prospect of success, to shrink from sharing the worst with 
 them. Such, at least, were the generous views that determin- 
 ed Lord Edward to take his chance with liis fellow-country- 
 men, and the event was not far from proving that there was 
 almost as much policy as generosity in his resolution. 
 
 That, at the same time, too, he was not unmindful, of what 
 these more prudent persons counselled, appears from a letter 
 which, about the beginning of May, reached him at Cormick's 
 in answer to a request made, through the Irish agent at Paris, 
 that a force not exceeding 5000 men should be sent instantly 
 to their succour. The communication of the agent, expressed 
 in ambiguous phrase, was as follows : — " I have just received 
 a letter from L., who has made application to the trustees for 
 the advance of iS5000 upon your estates, which they refused, 
 saying, they would make no payment short of the entire, and 
 that they would not be able to effect that for four months." 
 
 To wait the performance of this promise, — a delusory one, 
 as events afterward proved, — was now considered impossible ; 
 no alternative being any longer left to the people but either 
 to break out into revolt or throw themselves on the mercy of 
 their tormentors. The goading system had done its work ; 
 discontent had been ripened into rage ; and the half-hangings 
 and the burnings, the picket and the scourge, had left little 
 more to the leaders of the infuriated multitude than to direct 
 that rage which their rulers had roused. To enter into de- 
 tails of the cruelties perpetrated at this period is beyond the 
 scope of my work. But it may be sufficient to say, that if, 
 out of the great mass of uneducated Catholics, by whom, dis- 
 organized and without leaders, the partial rebellion that broke 
 out afterward was sustained, there were some guilty of atro- 
 cities that have left a stain on the Irish name, they therein 
 showed themselves but too apt learners of those lessons of 
 cruelty which their own government had, during the few 
 months previous to the insurrection, taught them. 
 
 It seemed to have been about the first week m May that 
 the resolution was finally taken to prepare for a general rising 
 before the end of that month. Intelligence of the design was 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 191 
 
 transmitted through all parts of the Union, and arrangements 
 made with the executives of the three other provinces, so as 
 that the news of the risings of their respective districts sliouhl 
 reach Dublin on the same day the rebellion broke out tliere. 
 Of such importance was it thought to prepare the south for 
 this simultaneous movement, that the younger Sheares, who 
 was now one of the most active members of the Leinster exe- 
 cutive, proceeded, early in May, to Cork, to lay the train for 
 explosion in that quarter. 
 
 To the momentous object of gaining over the militias, 
 among whom disaffection had already spread to a great ex- 
 tent, they now applied themselves with a degree of zeal, or 
 rather of headlong rashness, of which the trial of the unfortu- 
 nate Sheares's discloses a striking example : and such a foot- 
 ing had they, at this time, obtained in most of the regiments, 
 that we find Lawless, early in May, holding a conference, on 
 the subject of the rising, with a meeting of delegates from 
 almost all the militias in Ireland. By the plan of operations 
 for Leinster, where Lord Edward was to raise his standard, it 
 was arranged that the forces of the three counties of Duljlin, 
 Wicklow, and Kildare should co-operate in an advance upon 
 the capital, taking by surprise the camp at Lehaunstown, and 
 the artillery at Chapelizod, and crowning their enterprise by 
 the seizure of the lord lieutenant, and the other members of 
 the government, in Dubhn.^*' 
 
 * Lord Edward's precise views on the subject of the rising of the 
 people have never been given to the people, they are now laid before 
 it in the following memorandum of a conversation with one who pos- 
 sessed his entire confidence, who communicated with him on the sub- 
 ject of the contemplated rising immediately before its intended out 
 bi-eak, and who fruitlessly endeavoured to dissuade him from it. On 
 the accuracy of the information given respecting this matter the m-ost 
 implicit confidence may be reposed. The person in question met 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald by appointment at the Shakespeare Gallery, 
 Exchange street, about one month before the arrests in Marcli, to con- 
 fer with the delegates from the different counties respecting the pro- 
 jected rising. Alter Lord Edward had received the different reports 
 of the number of men ready for the field in the different counties, he 
 called on the gentleman above referred to fur his opinion. Lord Ed- 
 ward said, " he deeply regretted his friend should have withdrawn 
 himself so long from any active interference in the business of the 
 Union, and that one in whose judgment he so much confided, should 
 Btand aloof at such a moment, if he unfortunately persisted in so 
 
192 " MEMOIRS OF 
 
 As it was now known that the pursuit after Lord Edward 
 was becoming every day more active and eager, his friends felt, 
 at last, the necessity of having him removed to some fitter 
 
 doing, the friends of the Union might be led to imagine he had desert 
 ed them in the hour of need, that lie. Lord Fitzgerald had determined 
 on an immediate and general rising of the people, their impatience 
 for which was no longer to be restrained, nor, with advantage to the 
 cause, to be resisted." He then appealed to the delegates for the 
 truth of this assertion, and his opinion was confirmed by them. His 
 friend, it is well to state, had withdrawn himself from the Union, 
 about the beginning of the year, when the system was changed from 
 a civil to a militar^^ organization. He could only regard this change 
 as one likeh' to direct the attention of their opponents to their pro- 
 ceedings. In fact, the people had not been sworn in at this time, and 
 no danger was apprehended from them. But when the system was 
 changed, and secretaries, and chairmen, and delegates, were called 
 captains, and colonels, and adjutant-generals, a military aspect was 
 given to the business of the Union, the government became necessarily 
 alarmed, and recourse was had to spies and informers. The danger 
 of this course was obvious to those who felt that any premature dis- 
 play of militarj" preparation must prove fatal to their cause. >f * * 
 The gentleman I allude to informed Lord Edward, though he had 
 taken no part for some time in the affairs of the L^nion, he did not 
 cease to give his opinion when consulted, * * * when Lord Edward 
 had spoken of his deserting the cause, the latter felt hurt by the ob- 
 servation, and replied in strong terms that he had not deserted the 
 people nor betrayed their cause, but those people had done so, who 
 had precipitated measures prematurely taken, which did not afford 
 the least promise of success. " My Lord," said he, " I am not a per- 
 son to desert a cause in which I have embarked, * * * but when I 
 know the step that you are taking will involve that cause in the great- 
 est difnculties, my fears are great — I tremble for the result. My Lord, 
 all the services that you or your noble house have ever rendered to 
 the country, or ever can render to it, will never make amends to the 
 people for the misery and wretchedness the failure of j-our present 
 plans will cause them." " I tell you," replied Lord Edward impetu- 
 ously, " the chances of success are greatly in favour of our atteinp*;, 
 examine these returns — here are returns which show, that one hund- 
 red thousand armed men may be counted on to take the field." " My 
 Lord," replied his friend, " it is one tiling to have a hundred thousand 
 men on paper, and another in the field. A hundred thousand men on 
 paper, will not furnish fifty thousand in array. I, for one, am enroll- 
 ed amongst the number, but I candidly tell you, you will not find me 
 in your ranks. You know for what objects we joii'ed this Union, and 
 what means we reckoned on for carrying them into effect. Fifteen 
 thousand Frenchmen were considered essential to our undertaking. 
 If they were so at that time, still more so are they now, when our 
 warlike aspect has caused the government to pour troops into the 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 193 
 
 place of concealment ; and as none offered that seemed to 
 combine so many advantages, both of security and comfort, 
 as his former asylum at Mrs. * *'s, to that lady's house he 
 
 countr}-." "What!" said Lord Edward, " would you atlempt noth- 
 ing without those fifteen tliousaud men — would you not be satisfied 
 with tea thousand?" "I would, niy Lord," replied his friend, "if 
 the aid of the fifteen could not be procured." " But," continued Lord 
 Edward, " if even the ten could not be got, what would you do then? " 
 " I would then accept of five, my Lord," was the reply. " But," said 
 Lord Edward, fixing his eyes with great earnestness on him, " we can- 
 not get five thousand, and with respect to the larger force we origi- 
 nally wished for, had we succeeded, wdth so large a body of French 
 troops we might have found it difficult to get rid of our allies." To 
 this it was replied, " my Lord, if we found it possible to get rid of 
 our enemies, ten times as numerous as our allies, we could have little 
 difficulty in getting rid of the latter VN'heii necessity required it." 
 "But, I tell you we cannot," said Lord Edward, "get even the five 
 thousand you speak of, and when you know that we cannot, will you 
 desert our cause ? " The eyes of the delegates were turned on the 
 person thus addressed. He felt that Lord Edward had put the matter 
 in such a light before those present, that he would have been branded 
 as a traitor if he abandoned the cause while there was a ray of hope 
 for its success. " My Lord," said he, " if five thousand men could not 
 be obtained, I would seek the assistance of a sufiicient number of 
 French oflicers to head the people, and with three hundred of these, 
 perhaps we might be justified in making an eft'ort for independence, 
 but not without them. What military men have we of our own, to 
 lead our unfortunate people into action against a disciplined army ? " 
 Lord Edward ridiculed the idea of their being anything like disci- 
 pline at that time in the English army. " Besides, the numbers," he 
 said, " of the L^nited. L-ishmen, would more than counterbalance any 
 superiority in the discipline of their enemies." " M\^ Lord," said his 
 friend, " we must not be deceived, they are disciplined, and our peo- 
 ple are not, if the latter are repulsed and broken, who is to re-form 
 their lines ? Once thrown into disorder, the greater their niambers, 
 the greater will be the havoc made amongst them." Lord Edward 
 said, " without risking a general engagement, he would be able to get 
 possession of Dublin," " Suppose 30U did, my Lord," was the reply, 
 " the possession of the capital would not insure success, and even 
 when you had taken the city, if the citizens asked to see the army of 
 their brave deliverers, which might be encamped in the Phu?nix Park, 
 the citizens would naturally expect to see some military evolutions 
 performed, some sort of military array, exhibited on such an occasion. 
 Who would there be, my Lord, to pxit the people through these evo- 
 lutions ? What officers have you, to teach them one military manoeu- 
 vre, and if they were suddenly attacked b}' an army in the rear, 
 what leader accustomed to the field have you to bring tiiem with any 
 advantage to the attack ? You, my Lord, are the only military maa 
 
194 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 was again, at the beginning of May, conveyed. Being uncer- 
 tain as to his cominLi; on the eveuino- first named, Mrs. * * had 
 gone to the house of a neighbour, having left word at home 
 tliab she should be sent for " if Miss Fitzgerald, from A thy, 
 arrived." Though so fully prepared to expect him, yet such 
 was her sense of the risk and responsibility she so heroically 
 took upon herself, that when the servant came, between eleven 
 aud twelve at night, to say that " Miss Fitzgerald, from Athy, 
 had arrived,-' so agitated was she by the announcement that 
 she actually fainted. 
 
 Lord Edward's conductors, Messrs. Cormick and Lawless, 
 had themselves experienced some alarm on the way, having 
 heard voices behind as they came along the canal from Thomas- 
 street, which appeared to them like those of persons eagerly 
 in pursuit. In their anxiety they persuaded his lordship, who 
 was all the while laughing at their fears, to lay himself down 
 in a ditch, by the road's side, till these people (who, after all, 
 proved to be only labourers returning home) should have 
 passed by ; and the plight in which, after having been covered 
 up to the chin in mud, he made his reappearance among his old 
 friends was to himself a source of much jest and amusement. 
 
 The guarded privacy in whicli, during his first visit here, he 
 had lived, was now no longer observed by him, and scarcely a 
 day elapsed without his having company — sometimes six or 
 seven persons — to dine with him. Fearless as he was by na- 
 ture, his familiarity, of late, with danger, had rendered him 
 still more reckless of it : the companions of his hours, at Cor- 
 mick's and Moore's, being now in the secret of their chiefs 
 retreat, felt no less pride than pleasure in being numbered 
 among his visitors ; and, though he himself was far too tem- 
 perate to be what is called convivial, that excitement of spirits 
 natural on the eve of any great enterprise led him to relish. 
 
 amongst ws, but you cannot be everywhere you are required, and the 
 misfortune is, you delea^ate your authoritv to those whom vou think 
 are hke j'ourself, but the\' are not like you, we have no such persons 
 amongst us." The delegates here assented to the justice of these re- 
 marks, declaring that the proposals for the aid of the French officers 
 was a reasonable one, and they were proceeding to remonstrate, when 
 Lord Edward impatiently reminded them that they had no assistance 
 io expect from France, and that consequently the determination had 
 been come to, to prepare the country for an immediate rising.— 
 Madden' s United Irish/nen. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. l95 
 
 no doubt, the society of those who were so soon to share his 
 dangers. To his kind, watchful hostess, however, this un- 
 guarded mode of living was a constant source of apprehension 
 and disquiet ; nor did his friend Lawless fail earnestly to re- 
 present to him the great danger of admitting so many visitors, 
 — more especially a visitor so inconsiderate as Neilsou, who, 
 well known as was his person, used to ride out frequently, in 
 full daylight, to call upon him. 
 
 While matters were thus verging towards a crisis, another 
 fatal bolt fell and almost as unexpectedly as the former, among 
 the conspirators. Through the means of an officer of the King's 
 County militia, named Armstrong, who, by passing himself off 
 as a person of republican principles, gained the confidence of 
 the two brothers, John and Henry Sheares, the government 
 had obtained an insight into the movements of the conspiracy, 
 of which, quickened as was now their vigilance by their fears, 
 they lost no time in vigorously availing themselves ; and, as 
 a lirst step, on the 11th of this month, a proclamation was 
 issued, offering a reward of d£1000 for the apprehension of 
 Lord Edward Fitzsrerald. How far this measure, and the 
 ulterior ones it seemed to portend, had any share in hastening 
 the moment of explosion, does not appear ; but it was now 
 announced by the chiefs to their followers that on the night of 
 the 23d inst. the general rising was to take place. 
 
 The awful fiat being thus sent forth, it was seen that, for 
 the purpose of concerting measures with his colleagues, the 
 presence of Lord Edward himself would be necessary in the 
 capital, during the week previous to the great event ; and he 
 was accordingly, about the 13th, removed from "^ "^ to Dub- 
 lin, leaving his hostess under the impression that he went but 
 to attend some of the ordinary meetings of the Union. In 
 taking leave of her he spoke with his usual cheerfulness, say- 
 ing that, as soon as these meetings were over, he would return ; 
 nor, aware as were all then present of the perils of his position, 
 was it possible for them, while looking at that bright, kindly 
 countenance, to associate with it a single boding of the sad 
 fate that was now so near him. 
 
 A night or two after his leaving Mrs. * *'s, it appears that 
 he rode, attended only by Neilson, to reconnoitre the line of 
 advance on the Kildare side, to Dublin, — the route marked 
 out on one of the papers found upon him when arrested, — and 
 
196 MESIOIRS OF 
 
 it was on this occasion that he was, for some time, stopped 
 and questioned by the patrol at Pahnerston. Being well dis- 
 guised, however, and representing himself to be a doctor on 
 his way to a dying patient,, his companion and he were suffered 
 to proceed on their way. 
 
 It was thought advisable, as a means of baffling pursuit, 
 that he should not remain more than a night or two in any one 
 place, and, among other retreats contemplated for him, appli- 
 cation had been made, near a week before, to his former host, 
 Murphy, who consented willingly to receive him. Immediately 
 after, however, appeared the proclamation offering a reward 
 for his apprehension, which so much alarmed Murphy, who 
 was a person not of very strong mind or nerves, that he re- 
 pented of his offer, and would most gladly have retracted it, 
 had he but known how to communicate with the persons to 
 whom he had pledged himself 
 
 On the 17tb, Ascension Thursday, he had been led to ex- 
 pect his noble guest would be with him ; but owing most pro- 
 bably to the circumstance I am about to mention, his lordship 
 did not then make his appearance. On the very morning of 
 that day, the active town-major, Sirr, had received informa- 
 tion* that a party of persons^ supposed to be Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald's body-guard, would be on their way from Thomas- 
 street to Usher's Island at a certain hour that night. Accord- 
 ingly, taking with him a sufficient number of assistants for his 
 purpose, and accompanied also by Messrs. Ryan and Emerson, 
 Major Sirr proceeded, at the proper time, to the quarter 
 pointed out, and there being two different ways (either Wat- 
 ling-street, or Dirty-Iaue) by which the expected party might 
 come, divided' his force so as to intercept them by either road. 
 
 A similar plan having happened to be adopted by Lord 
 Edward's escort, there took place, in each of these two streets, 
 a contlict between the parties ; and Major Sirr, who had 
 almost alone to bear the brunt in his quarter, was near losing 
 his life. In defending himself with a sword which he had 
 snatched from one of his assailants, he lost his footing and 
 fell ; and had not those with whom he was engaged been much 
 more occupied with their noble charge than with him, he could 
 
 * Dr. Drennan, Editor of the Irish Magazine, accuses Walter Cox 
 with being the person who acted as " setter " to JNIajor Sirr on this occa- 
 sion. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 19Y 
 
 hardly have escaped. But their chief object being Lord 
 Edward's safety, after snapping a pistol or two at Sirr, they 
 hurried away. On rejoining- his friends in the other street, tiie 
 town-major found that they had succeeded in capturing one of 
 their opponents, and this prisoner, who represented himself as 
 a manufacturer of mushn from Scotland, and whose skihully 
 assumed ignorance of Irish affairs induced them, a day or two 
 after, to discharge as innocent, proved to have been no other 
 than the famous M'Cabe, Lord Edward's confidential agent, 
 and one of the most active organizers in the whole confederacy. 
 
 Of the precise object or destination of this party I have 
 not been able to make out any thing certain ; but if, as is 
 generally supposed, Lord Edward was at the time on his way 
 to Moira-house, it was for the purpose, no doubt, of once more 
 seeing Lady Edward (to whom the noble-minded mistress of 
 that mansion had, since his concealment, paid the most com- 
 passionate attention) before his final plunge into a struggle 
 the issue of which must, even to himself, have been so doubtful. 
 
 On the followins: ni^'ht he ^vas brought from Moore's to the 
 house of Mr. Murphy, — Mrs. Moore herself being his con- 
 ductress. He had been suffering lately from cold and sore 
 throat, and, as his host thought, looked much altered in his 
 appearance since he had last seen him. An old maid-servant 
 was the only person in the house besides themselves. 
 
 Next morning as Mr. Murphy was standing within his gate- 
 way, there came a woman from Moore's with a bundle which, 
 vrithout saying a word, she put into his hands, and wiiich, tak- 
 ing for granted that it was for Lord Edward, he carried up to 
 his lordship. It was found to contain a coat, jacket, and 
 trousers of dark green edged with red, together with a hand- 
 some military cap, of a conical form. At the sight of this 
 uniform, which, for the first time, led him to suspect that a 
 rising must be at hand, the fears of the already nervous host 
 were redoubled ; and, on being desired by Lord Edward to 
 put it some where out sight, he carried the bundle to a loft 
 over one of his warehouses, and there hid it under some goat- 
 skins, whose offensiveness, he thought, would be a security 
 against search. 
 
 About the middle of the day an occurrence took place, 
 which, from its appearing to have some connexion with the 
 pursuit after himself, excited a good deal of apprehension in 
 
198 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his lordship's raincl. A sergeant-major, with a party of soldiers, 
 had been seen to pass up the street, and were, at the moment when 
 Murphy ran to apprize his guest of it, halting before Moore's 
 door. This suspicious circumstance, indicating, as it seemed, 
 some knowledge of his haunts, startled Lord Edward, and he 
 expressed instantly a wish to be put in some place of secrecy ; 
 on which Murphy took him out on tlie top of the house, and 
 laying him down in one of the valleys formed between the roofs of 
 his warehouses, left him there for some hours. During the ex- 
 citement produced in the neighbourhood by the appearance of 
 the soldiers, Lord Edward's officious friend Neilson was, in his 
 usual flighty and inconsiderate manner, walking up and down 
 the street, saying occasionally, as he passed-, to Murphy, who 
 was standing in bis gate-way, — " Is he safe ? " — " Look sharp." 
 
 While this anxious scene was passing in one quarter, treach- 
 ery — and it is still unknown from what source,* — was at work 
 in another. It must have been late in the day that informa- 
 tion of his lordship's hiding-place reached the government, as 
 Major Sirr did not receive his instructions on the subject till 
 but a few minutes before he proceeded to execute them. Major 
 Swan and Mr. Ryan (the latter of whom volunteered his 
 services) happened to be at his house at the moment ; and he 
 had but time to take a few soldiers, in plain clothes along with 
 him, — purposing to send, on his arrival in Thomas-street, for 
 the pickets of infantry and cavalry in that neighbourhood. 
 
 To return to poor Lord Edward : — as soon as the alarm 
 produced by the soldiers had subsided, he ventured to leave 
 his retreat, and resume his place in the back drawing-room, — 
 where, Mr. Murphy having invited Neilson to join them, they 
 soon after sat down to dinner. The cloth had not been many 
 minutes removed, when Neilson, as if suddenly recollecting 
 something, hurried out of the room and left the house ; shortly 
 after which Mr. Murphy, seeing that his guest was not inclined 
 
 * Dr. Madden is of opinion that the betrayer of Lord Edward Avas 
 the informer Jobn Hughes. " The reward for the discovery of Lord 
 Edward was offered on the 11th of May, earned on the 19th, and paid 
 on the 20th of the month following, to F. H. The Christian name of 
 Hughes does not correspond with the first inidal. The reader has 
 been furnished with sufficient data to enable him to determine whe- 
 ther the similarity of the capital letters J. and R in the hand-writing 
 in question, may admit or not, of one letter being mistaken for an- 
 other." — 3Iadden's United Irishmen. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 199 
 
 to drink any wine, went down stairs. In a few minutes after, 
 however, returning, he found that his lordship had, in the in- 
 terim, gone up to his bedroom, and, on following him thither, 
 saw him lying, without his coat, upon the bed. There had 
 now elapsed from the time of Neilson's departure not more 
 than ten minutes, and it is asserted that he had, in going out, 
 left the hall-door open. 
 
 Mr. Murphy had but just begun to ask his guest whether he 
 would like some tea, when, hearing a trampling on the stairs, 
 he turned round, and saw Major Swan enter the room. Scarcely 
 had this officer time to mention the object of his visit, wlien 
 Lord Edward jumped up, as Murphy describes him, "like a 
 tiger," from the bed, on seeing which. Swan fired a small 
 pocket-pistol at him, but without effect ; and then, turning 
 round sliort upon Murphy, from whom he seemed to appre- 
 hend an attack, thrust the pistol violently in his face, saying 
 to a soldier, who just then entered, " Take that fellow away." 
 Almost at the same instant, Lord Edward struck at Swan 
 with a dagger, which it now appeared, he had had in the bed 
 with him ; and immediately after Ryan, armed only with a 
 sword-cane, entered the room.* 
 
 In the mean time, Major Sirr, who had stopped below to 
 place the pickets round the house, hearing the report of Swan's 
 pistol, hurried up to the landing, and from thence saw, within 
 the room. Lord Edward struggUng between Swan and Ryan, 
 the latter down on the floor weltering in his blood, and both 
 clinging to their powerful adversary, who was now dragging 
 them towards the door. Threatened, as he was, with a fate 
 similar to that of his companions, Sirr had no alternative but 
 to fire, and, aiming his pistol deliberately, he lodged the con- 
 tents in Lord Edward's right arm, near the shoulder. The 
 wound for a moment staggered him ; but, as he again rallied, 
 and was pushing towards the door, Major Sirr called up the 
 
 * It appears, from a letter written by one of this gentleman's friends, 
 on the morning after the encounter, — a copy of which his son, Mr. D- 
 F. Ryan, has kindly furnished me with, — tliat, immediately on enter- 
 ing the room, Mr. Kj-an made a thrust of his sword at Lord Edward, 
 but with no otliei effect, from the blade bending on his breast, than 
 that of causing his lordship to fall on the bed; in which position Mr. 
 Ryan grappled with him, and, in the course of their struggle, received 
 the desperate wound of which he died. 
 
200 MEilOIRS OF 
 
 soldiers ; and so desperate were their captive's struggles, that 
 they found it necessary to lay their firelocks across him, before 
 he could be disarmed or bound so as to prevent further mis- 
 chief. 
 
 It was during one of these instinctive efforts of coura2:e 
 that the opportunity was, as I understand, taken by a wretched 
 drummer to give him a wound in the back of the neck, which, 
 though slight, yet, from its position, contributed not a little to 
 aggravate the uneasiness of his last hours. There are also 
 instances mentioned of rudeness, both in languao'e and conduct, 
 which he had to suffer while in this state from some of the 
 minor tools of government, and which, even of such men, it 
 is painful and difficult to believe. But so it is, 
 
 ' Curs snap at lions in the toils, •whose looks 
 Frighted them being free." 
 
 It being understood that Doctor Adreen, a surgeon of much 
 eminence, was in the neighbourhood, messengers were imme- 
 diately despatched to fetch him, and his attention was called 
 to the state of the three combatants. The wounds of Major 
 Swan, though numerous, were found not to be severe ; but 
 Mr. Ryan was in a situation that gave but little hope of re- 
 covery. When, on examining Lord Edward's wound, Adreen 
 pronounced it not to be dangerous, his lordship calmly an- 
 swered, " I m sorry for it." 
 
 From Thomas-street he was conveyed, in a sedan-chair, open 
 at the top, to the Castle, where the papers found upon him, — 
 one of them containing the line of advance upon Dublin, from 
 the county of Kildare, — were produced and verified. On 
 hearing that he was at the Castle, the lord lieutenant sent his 
 private secretary, Mr. Watson, to assure him that orders had 
 been given for every possible attention being shown to him, 
 consistently with the security of his person as a state prisoner. 
 
 By the gentleman who was the bearer of this message, I have 
 been favoured with the following particulars, — as honourable 
 to himself as they cannot but be interesting to others, — of the 
 interview which, in consequence, he had with the noble 
 prisoner : — 
 
 " 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 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, 201 
 
 wound. His coimtenauce was pallid, bnt serene ; and when I 
 told him, in a low voice, not to l)e overiieard, my commission 
 from the lord lieutenant, and that I was p:oing to bre^k the 
 intelligence of what had occurred to Lady Edward, asking 
 him, with every assurance of my fidelity and secrecy, whether 
 there was any confidential communication he wished to be made 
 to her ladyship, or whether I could undertake any other per- 
 sonal act of kindness in his service, — he answered merely, but 
 collectedly, ' No, no, — thank you, — nothing, nothing ; only 
 break it to her tenderlv.' 
 
 " When I called at Ladv Edward's house, this beino: in the 
 evening, and after dark, I found that she was absent at a party 
 at Moira house : I therefore communicated to two of her 
 female attendants the events of the evening."* 
 
 The eifect produced by this event is thus strikingly described 
 by one of the historians of the rebellion :f "The arrest of Lord 
 Edward visibly occasioned a strong sensation among the mass 
 of the people in Dublin, as their hopes of getting possessiou 
 of the metropolis, on the approaching insurrection which they 
 meditated, rested much on his valour and skill as an officer. 
 Numbers of them were seen going from one part of the town 
 to the other, with a quick pace and a serious countenance. 
 Others were perceived, in small parties, conversing with that 
 seriousness of look and energy of gesticulation, which strongly 
 indicated the agitation of their minds. A rising to effect a 
 rescue was expected that night :J the yeomen, therefore, and 
 
 At the time of Lord Edward's arrest, his wife had taken refuge 
 with my sisters, and was at that time in my father's house, in Merrion 
 street, though without his knowledge. She was pursued there by the 
 police in search of papers, and some which she had concealed in her 
 bed-room were discovered and seized. — Personal Recollections of 
 Lord Cloncnrry. 
 
 f Musgrave's Ilistory of the Rebellion. ' 
 
 \ Xeilson determined, that on the night of the 23d, he would make 
 an effort to liberate the leaders, and hazard all hopes of success on an 
 attack on Newgate, where Lord Edward was confined. From his 
 long confinement in the Dublin prisons, he had become intimately 
 acquainted with their interior arrangeinent and construction, and so 
 far was qualified to carry the proposed plan of attack into execution. 
 But to the success of that effort, it was necessary to ascertain the 
 height of the walls, at that part where they were to be scaled, and to 
 obtain this knowledge with accuracy, he boldly, and, as the result 
 
202 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the garrison, which it was to be lamented was very thin, re- 
 mained on their arms all night, and were so judiciously dis- 
 posed as to prevent the possibility of an insurrection." 
 
 Of the melancholy close of Lord Edward's days I am en- 
 abled to lay before my readers all the minutest details, tli rough 
 the medium of a correspondence, which took place immediately 
 on his apprehension, between some of his nearest relatives and 
 friends, — a correspondence as affecting, as it has ever fallen to 
 the lot of a biographer to put on record. It would be difficult, 
 indeed, to find a family more affectionately attaclied to each 
 other than that of which his lordship had been always the most 
 beloved member ; and it is only in language direct from such 
 hearts, at the very moment of suffering, tliat dismay and sorrow 
 such as now fell upon them could be at all adequately conveyed. 
 Of one of the writers, Lady Louisa Conolly, it is gratifying to 
 be able to preserve some memorial beyond that tradition of 
 her many noble virtues which friendship has handed down to 
 us, and to the truth of which the amiable spirit tliat breathes 
 throughout her letters bears the amplest testimony. 
 
 In the accounts given in some of these letters of the cir- 
 cumstances of the arrest, there will be found mistakes and 
 mistatements into which the writers were naturally led by the 
 hasty reports of the transaction that reached them, but which 
 tlie reader, acquainted as he is already with the true facts of 
 the case, will be able to detect and rectify. In the desperate 
 resistance which he made. Lord Edward had no other weapon 
 than a dagger, and the number of wounds he is said to have 
 inflicted with it on his two adversaries is such as almost to ex- 
 ceed belief. This dagger was given by Lord Clare, a day or 
 two after the arrest, to Mr. Brown, a gentleman well known 
 and still living in Dublin, who has, by some accident, lost it. 
 He describes it to me, however, as being about the length of a 
 large case-knife, with a common buck-handle, — the blade, 
 which was two-edged, being of a waved shape, like that of the 
 
 proved, most imprudently determined to reconnoitre the prison, and 
 while he was intently engaged in estimating the height of the building 
 from the number of tiers of mason-work in the wall, he was observed 
 by G'"^gg. the jailer, Avho, calling a file of soldiers to his assistance, im- 
 mediately seized on Neilson, and after a desperate struggle on the part 
 of the latter, lodged him in jail. — Maddens United Jrishnien. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 203 
 
 Bword represented in the hands of the angel in the commoa 
 prints prefixed to the hist book of Paradise Lost, 
 
 The rebel uniform belonging to his lordsliip, which was 
 found at Murphy's, passed afterward into the hands of Mr. 
 Watson Taylor, in whose possession it remained for some time, 
 till the late Duke of York, who had always been much at- 
 tached to Lord Edward, and had even oifered, when made 
 commander-in-chief, to restore him to his rank in the army, 
 having expressed a wish to possess so curious a relic of his no- 
 ble friend, Mr. Watson Taylor presented it to his royal high- 
 ness, and what has become of it since the duke's death I have 
 not been able to ascertain. 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA COXOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ.* 
 
 " Castletown, May 21st, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " I was too ill yesterday to write, but as there sailed no 
 packet, I have an opportunity of letting my letter go now 
 among the first, with the sad narrative of Saturday night's 
 proceedings. Which of poor Edward's bad friends betrayed 
 him, or whether, throu2:h the vi2:ilance of the town magistrates, 
 he was apprehended at nine o'clock that night, I know not, 
 but, at a house in Thomas-street, Mr. Serle, the town-major, 
 Mr. Ryan, (printer of Faulkner's Journal), and Mr. Swan (a 
 magistrate), got information of him, and had a small party of 
 soldiers to surround the house. Mr. Serle was settling the 
 party, and advised Ryan and Swan not to be in haste ; but 
 they hastily ran up stairs, and forced open the door where he 
 was asleep. He instantly fired a pistol at Mr. Ryan, who we 
 have this day hopes will recover. Upon Mr. Swan's approach- 
 ing him, he stabbed Mr. Swan with a dagger, but that wound 
 is not considered dangerous. 
 
 " Mr, Serle, upon hearing the resistance, ran up stairs, and 
 thinking that Edward was going to attack him, fired a pistol 
 at him, which wounded Edward in the shoulder, but not dan- 
 gerously. He was then carried prisoner to the Castle, where 
 Mr. Stewart (the surgeon-general) was ordered to attend him. 
 He dressed his wound, and pronounced it not to be dangerous. 
 Lord Camden had ordered an apartment for him, but the 
 
 * Mr. Ogilvie was at this time in London. 
 
204 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 magistrates claimed liim, on account of his having wounded 
 their people. He was therefore carried to Xewgate, and, after 
 the first burst of feeling was over, I hear that he was quite 
 composed. 
 
 " Mr. Pakenham has promised to inquire if he wants any 
 comfort or convenience that can be sent him in prison ; and I 
 am going to town this evening, meaning to see Mr. Stewart, 
 the surgeon, to know from him what may be w^anted. I am 
 also going for the purpose of hearing whether this event makes 
 any alteration in the determinations respecting Lady Edward's 
 leaving the country. If it is necessary that she should still 
 go, I shall wish to hurry her off, and shall in another letter 
 write you more particulars about her. In the mean time, I 
 have had the satisfaction of hearino' that she bore the shock 
 yesterday better than one could expect, and she had some sleep 
 last night. 
 
 " As soon as Edward's wound was dressed, he desired the 
 private secretary at the Castle (Mr. Watson, I believe, is the 
 name) to write for him to Lady Edward, and to tell her what 
 had happened. The secretary carried the note himself. Lady 
 Edward was at Moira-house, and a servant of Lady Mount- 
 cashell's came soon after, to forbid Lady Edward's servants 
 saying anything to her that night. Poor Miss Napier, with 
 my Emily, were at the play that night, with Lady Castlereagh 
 and Mrs. Pakenham, in the next box to the lord lieutenant's, 
 where the news was brought to him, and of course the two 
 poor girls heard it all. Miss Napier was so overcome that 
 Lady Castlereagh went out with her, and Miss Napier went 
 instantly to Moira-house, knowing Lady Edward to be there. 
 Lady Moira forbade her telling her that night, so that Miss 
 Napier made some foolish pretence to go home with her, and 
 she has never left Lady Edward since. Mr. Pakenham made 
 Louisa Pakenham keep Emily in the box, as they feared that 
 all running out of the box might have the appearance of some 
 not ; and I believe it might be better, but the poor little soul 
 was wretched, as you may imagine. The next morning (being 
 yesterday), Miss Napier told Lady Edward, and she bore it 
 better than she expected ; but Mr. Napier, who went to town, 
 brought us word that her head seemed still deranged, and that 
 no judgment could be formed about her. He and Sarah are 
 gone again this morning. I wait for the evening, as I wish to 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 205 
 
 go a little better prepared with advice than I could hitherto 
 have been. 
 
 " It is my intention to entreat for leave to see him (nobody- 
 has been permitted to go since he was carried to Newgate j, 
 but I will vv'ait to see surgeon Stewart, and know first the 
 state of his health, and if he would like to see me. The trial, 
 it is thought, will not come on immediately ; but as reports 
 are the only information I have upon that head, I shall post- 
 pone saying more until I am better informed. My astonish- 
 ment at finding that Edward was in Dublin can only be 
 equalled by his imprudence in being in it. I had felt such 
 security, at being sure of his having left Dublin Bay, added 
 to the belief, from the Duke of Portland's ofiice, that he had 
 left the English coast in a boat, that I scarcely felt startled 
 when the proclamation came out, though I began to wonder 
 why it took place now. 
 
 " I received yours of the 15th yesterday morning, with the 
 bad account of the poor Dutchess of Leinster's state of health. 
 It affected me, certainly, but under the impression of Edward's 
 misfortune, I could feel no other equal to what that has brought 
 upon us. I am very sorry that the poor duke still deceives 
 himself about her. 
 
 " This last week has been a most painful one to us. May- 
 nooth, Kilcock, Leixlip, and Celbridge have had part of a 
 Scotch regiment quartered at each place, living upon free 
 quarters, and every day threatening to burn the towns. I 
 have spent days in entreaties and threats, to give up the horrid 
 pikes. Some houses burnt at Kilcock yesterday produced the 
 effect. Maynooth held out yesterday, though some houses 
 were burnt, and some people punished. This morning the 
 people of Leixlip are bringing in their arms. Celbridge as 
 yet holds out, though five houses are now burning. Whether 
 obstinacy, or that they have them not, I cannot say, but you 
 may imagine what Mr. Conolly and 1 suffer. He goes about 
 entreating to the last, — spent all yesterday out among them, 
 and to-day is gone again. He goes from Maynooth to Leixlip 
 and Celbridge, and begins again and again to go round them. 
 
 " We have fortunately two most humane officers, that do 
 not do more than is absolutely necessary from their orders. 
 At present I feel most prodigiously sunk with all the surround- 
 ing distress, but I am determined to exert myself, for the little 
 
206 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 use I may be of. It would grieve you to see Mr. Conolly'3 
 good heart so wounded as it is. 
 
 " Yours affectionatelv, " L. C." 
 
 FROM COLONEL NAPIRR TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 "Dublin, Maj' 21st. 
 "my dearest OGILVIE, 
 
 " I must trust to the manly firmness I know you possess 
 as the only preface which can enable you to support tlie heavy 
 intelligence I am obliged to convey in this melancholy letter. 
 Poor Lord Edward, seduced and betrayed, was arrested the 
 night before last by three men sent for the purpose, who took 
 him after a desperate resistance, in which he wounded two of 
 them with a poinard, and was himself shot in the right arm, 
 and bruised and cut in three places of his left. He was first 
 carried to the Castle, and, after his wounds had been dressed 
 removed to Lord Aldborough's room, in Newgate, on the re- 
 quisition of the magistrates, as one of his opponents appeared 
 to be mortally wounded in the groin. However, this day it 
 is found the intestines are not hurt, and great hopes are enter- 
 tained of his recovery. 
 
 " Lord Ross broun'ht the dreadful intelligence to Castletown 
 yesterday morning, and after a miserable scene, in which I 
 feared their violent hysterics would have ended fatally with 
 both Lady Louisa and Sarah, I set off for Dublin, but was 
 peremptorily refused to be allowed an interview with our un- 
 fortunate prisoner. I next went to Geo. Stewart, who dressed 
 his wounds, and attends him ; but, missing him I went to the 
 poor suiferer's wife ; who, kept up by her spirits, bore her mis- 
 fortunes like a heroine. Alas ! she does not know, what I 
 dread to be true, that government have strong and even indu- 
 bitable proofs of treason. It is in vain to dissemble : Geo. 
 Ponsonby, who is to be Edward's counsel, in conjunction with 
 Curran, fears the event, at least if ministers produce what 
 they assert they possess. In short, my dear friend, no time 
 must be lost in applying to the king, or the catastrophe is — 
 I dare not write what ! As no packet sailed yesterday, I have 
 waited till now, that I might guard you against flying or nia- 
 licious reports ; for, among others, it was said yesterday, that 
 Ryan, the man wounded in the groin, was dead ; and to-day, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 207 
 
 that Lord Edward had a locked jaw, both which are utterly 
 uu [bunded. 
 
 " I write this from Moira-house. Opposite, in Thomas-street, 
 they are destroying tiie houses ; and I expect, on my return, 
 to lind Celbridge and Maynooth in ashes, as that was the 
 * order of the day.' I enclose this to my sister, who will di- 
 rect Alexander to give it into your own hand, as I dread and 
 shudder at the thoughts of its effects on your dear wife. Good 
 God ! how my heart bleeds for her. I can't write more— my 
 breast is so very bad ; and not relieved, you may believe, by 
 the scenes of misery I am every where witness to. I have, 
 however, the satisfaction of thinking, that neitiier party can 
 accuse me of having abetted them, in thought, word, or deed ; 
 and this is no small consolation to an honest man. I hope, 
 poor dear intrepid Lady Edward will go to England (where 
 the privy council have ordered her), as Ponsonby says she 
 cannot be of any use here. Adieu, my dear friend ; for God's 
 sake exert your fortitude, and be prepared for the worst. 
 *' I cannot write more, but I am 
 
 " Very, very sincerely yours. 
 
 " Lady Moira's kindness, in every sense of the word, has 
 surpassed that of common mothers. 
 
 " My sister, at the king's feet, imploring a pardon on con- 
 dition of exile, may do more than all the politicians, lawyers, 
 or exertions in the whole world : let her try it instantly, and 
 never quit him till obtained : stop at no forms or refusals. 
 Human nature must give way. 
 
 " Tills is intended for the Duke of Lienster, and all the 
 family, none of us being able to write more." 
 
 FROil LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO LADY SARAH NAPIER. 
 
 "May 22d, 1798. 
 " MY DEAREST SAL, 
 
 " Poor Lady Edward is to go : when I brought her the 
 passport this morning, it threw her into sad distress, for she 
 had hoped 1 could prevail upon them to let her live in prison 
 with him. Lord Castlereagh told me, that it had been a de- 
 termination, at the beginning of all this particular business^ 
 not to admit the friends at all, and that it had not been de- 
 parted from in any one instance ; and that, if Mrs. Emmet 
 
208 M1EM0IRS OF 
 
 saw her husband, it was by stealth, and contrary to the most 
 positive order. I tried for one day before she went ; but that^ 
 Lady Edward says, she would not have ventured, on account 
 of his wound, lest it should have caused him fever. Lindsay 
 brought word to-day that he was better. Lady Edward will 
 have her choice of a Parkgate or Holyhead packet on Thurs- 
 day morning, a five o'clock. I shall, therefore, stay in Dublin 
 till that time, to put her on board, to pay her the last little 
 friendly office in my power. 
 
 " In the House of Commons, to-day, the discovery of the 
 conspiracy was announced, which they report to have been 
 found out but just in due time, as this week was to have com- 
 pleted it. Two men of the name of Sheares, have been taken 
 up ; in the pocket of one of them a proclamation was found, 
 intended for distribution after that Dublin should be in their 
 possession ; and in Mr. Braughal's pocket, a letter, addressed 
 to him, saying, ' Get off as soon as you can for ice are discov- 
 ered.^ I vouch for nothing, but tell you what I have heard ; 
 and know nothing for certain, but my own wretchedness. God 
 bless you, dearest dear Sal. " Ever yours, 
 
 '' L. CONOLLY. 
 
 " Pray send Mrs. Staples word of my stay in town. 
 
 " I saw Mr. G. Ponsonby : he advised her going. I hear 
 that Mr. Curran does the same. 
 
 " Dear good Miss Napier, don't look ill. Surgeon Stewart 
 is to write constantly to Lady Edward an account of his 
 health." 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAil OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Burlington House, 
 "Wednesday, May 23d, 1798, 11 A. M. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " It is with infinite concern that I take upon myself to ac- 
 quaint you with the very melancholy circumstances which have 
 attended the apprehension of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, when 
 Justice Swan, attended by a Mr. Ryan, entered the room (at 
 the house of one Murphy, in the Liberty,) where Lord Ed- 
 ward was in bed. Lord Edward, who was armed with a case 
 of pistols and a dagger, stood in his defence, shot Mr. Ryan 
 in the stomach, and wounded Mr. Swan with the dagger 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 209 
 
 in two places. Major Sirr, on entering the room, and ob- 
 serving Lord Edward with the dagger uplifted in his hands, 
 fired at him and wounded him in the arm of the hand that 
 held the weapon, upon which he was secured. Mr. Ryan's 
 wound is considered to be mortal ; no apprehensions are en- 
 tertained for Mr. Swan's life. Upon so very melancholy and 
 distressful a subject as this must be, it would as little become 
 me as it can be necessary, to assign reasons for this intrusion : 
 the motives will speak for themselves, and I need make no 
 other appeal than to your candour and to your feelings for my 
 justification upon this distressful occasion. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, 
 " Dear sir, 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 
 " Portland." 
 
 from the duke of richmond to william ogiltie, esq. 
 
 " Goodwood, May 24th, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken, 
 at a moment when you must have so much anxiety on your 
 mind, to communicate to me the very melancholy event of 
 Lord Edward's being taken, and the circumstances attending 
 it. God grant that Mr. Ryan may recover ! 
 
 " I can easily conceive the oppression of my poor sister's 
 mind ; for although I know that she possesses great fortitude, 
 none can stand under the sort of misery with which she may 
 be afflicted. It is in vain to offer any assistance or comfort 
 where none can be of any avail ; but she may be assured that 
 no one can sympathize more sincerely in her misfortune than 
 I do. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 " Ever most sincerely yours, 
 
 " Richmond, &c. 
 
 " P. S. I have sent your letter to Lord Bathurst and Cap- 
 tain Berkeley, who are at Wood End. 
 
 " I read a case a few days ago in the newspapers, in which 
 Lord Kenyon is said to have expressed, very strongly his 
 opinion how much it was the duty of any officer executhig a 
 warrant to declare who he was, and his authority ; otherwise, 
 
210 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 what dreadful consequences might ensue by a resistance sup- 
 posed to be justifiable ! 
 
 " If it should turn out that the persons who arrested Lord 
 Edward did not declare their authority, this speech of Lord 
 Kenyon's from the bench, of which you may easily get a cor- 
 rect minute, might be useful. 
 
 " The letters of to-day were brought by Hyde, the messen- 
 ger : if you should wish to ask him any questions, he will cer- 
 tainly not return sooner than to-morrow." 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Tliursdaj- morning, 2-l:Lh Ma}-, 1798. 
 "dear SIR, 
 
 " Give me leave to assure you, that I am much irratified by 
 ihe reception my unfortunate intrusion of yesterdsiy met with 
 from you. I wish I could in anv deij-ree relieve vour anxiety 
 by the accounts I have received to-day : they are of tiie 20th, 
 and state no new unfavourable symptoms ; but I must not 
 conceal from you, that they give no better hopes of Mr. 
 Ryan's recovery than the letters of the 19th. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, 
 " Your very faithful and obedient servant, 
 
 " Portland." 
 
 from the duke of portland to lord henry fitzgerald. 
 
 " Whitehall, Friday, 2oth May, 1798. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " I have the honour of your lordship's letter, in which you 
 desire me to give you an order to be admitted to Lord Ed- 
 ward Fitzgerald, whom you are going over to Ireland for the 
 purpose of visiting. I am therefore to inform your lordship, 
 that as Lord Edward is not under confinement in consecjuence 
 of a w^arrant issued by me, I have not the power of comply- 
 ing with your request, 
 
 *' I have the honour to be, 
 " Mv lord, 
 " Your lordship's most obedient and 
 humble servant 
 
 " Portland." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 211 
 
 FROil THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 "Whitehall. Friday, 25th May, 1798, 
 " Half pas^t 4, P. M. 
 
 "dear sir, 
 " I have the pleasure of acquainting you, that since I left 
 St. James's, I have been assured by a person whose accuracy 
 may be depended upoir, that he has seen private letters, hut 
 of /tigk authority^ of the 21st, from Dublin, which state, that 
 though Mr. Ryan's wound is a very dangerous one, it is not 
 considered to be necessarily mortal. 
 
 *' Very sincerely yours, 
 
 " Portland." 
 
 from the same to the same. 
 
 "Saturday morning, 26th May, lv98. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " By a letter, dated the 22d, I am informed that Lord Ed- 
 ward remains in the same state : that though the ball is not 
 yet extracted, the surgeon who attends him does not think the 
 wound dangerous ; and that great hopes are entertained of 
 Mr. Ryan's recovery. 
 
 "I am, sir, 
 " Your faithful, humble servant, 
 
 " Portland." 
 
 FROM lady LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Castletown, June 1st, 1*798. 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " I have this instant received vour two letters of the 26th 
 and 28th of May, and have written to Lord Castlereagh, to 
 entreat for the order of silence in the papers. I trust it will 
 be complied with, because it cannot impede the course of jus- 
 tice ; and, if I may judge by dear Lord Castlereagh's dis- 
 tress about all this business, I fancy government mean to 
 soften the distress as much as possible, and of course will ac- 
 cede to a thing that canuot counteract justice, 
 
 " I am so entirely of your opinion about dear Edward, that 
 his heart could never be brought to the guilt imputed to him, 
 
212 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that I begin to rest my afflicted soul in hope, and do not yet 
 give it up ; thougli it was a sad blow to me, yesterday, to hear 
 of Ryan's death. It is said he died of a fever ; but when 
 once all the circumstances of that affray come to be known, I 
 do verily believe, that it can only be brought in manslaughter, 
 in his own defence. However, in the confused state that all 
 things are in, and the mystery that involves the truth, every 
 new thing creates doubt and alarm. I have also written to 
 Lord Castlereagh, to know the mode of proceeding now ; for, 
 upon the idea of Ryan's recovery he had told me, that trial 
 was out of the queston. 
 
 " Louisa Pakenham, who sees Dr. Lindsay every day, sends 
 me constant accounts of dear Edward, who suffers less ; and 
 the accounts of yesterday are better than I have had yet, as 
 his appetite and sleep were better. But Lindsay cannot pro- 
 nounce him out of danger until the balls are extracted, which 
 is not yet the case, though the discharge one day was so great 
 as to make him expect it. The warm weather has been 
 against him. 
 
 ** My two letters to poor Lady Edward, directed to you, 
 contained all tlie accounts concerning him, which made it un- 
 necessary to write to you. I long to hear of her arrival in 
 London, and whether she will have permission to remain there. 
 I hope the Duke of Portland will let her stay. I must, for 
 ever and ever, repeat my firm belief of her innocence, as far 
 as acts of treason. That she should know dear Edward's 
 opinions, and endeavour to secret him when in danger of being 
 taken, I easily believe ; and where is the wife that would not 
 do so ? As Mr. Conolly justly says, no good man can ever 
 impute that as guilt in her. However, I believe that under 
 the illiberal prejudice that has been against her, as a French- 
 woman, ever since she came to Ireland, and which has much 
 increased upon this occasion, I believe it was safer to send her 
 to England. God bless her, poor soul ! She is to be pitied 
 more than can be expressed ; and I never knew how much I 
 loved her, till she became so unfortunate. 
 
 " I wrote word in my last that Edward had made his will. 
 Lieutenant Stone, of the Derry militia, has been appointed to 
 stay with him : he is a good man, and I hear that Edward is 
 pleased with him, and got him to write his will, which Stew- 
 art and Lindsay signed. I hear that dear Henry is just land- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 213 
 
 ed : I am very glad of it. I felt sure he would come, but I 
 thouglit you would stay with my poor sister. Oh, good God, 
 what is to become of her ? I hardly dared read your letters 
 this morning. Her wish to come over I also expected ; and 
 it is so natural, that I think it must be the best for her, and 
 yet I dare not advise. The trial, I hear, is to be the 20th of 
 next month. I shall beg of Lord Castlereagh, when he sends 
 this letter, to tell you as many particulars as he can upon that 
 subject. And now, my dear Mr. Ogilvie, that I have said all 
 I know about him, I must inform you of the dreadful state of 
 this country. 
 
 " The fikes prove the intended mischief to anybody's under- 
 standing, without being in the secrets of either government or 
 the United men, and the rebellion is actually begun. The 
 north, south, and west are perfectly quiet, and we have every 
 reason to believe the militia are true to the existing govern- 
 ment ; so that Leinster is the province devoted to scenes of 
 bloodshed and misery. As yet, there does not appear to be 
 any leader that can be dangerous, and their depending on 
 numbers (which they endeavour to collect by force, as they 
 pass through the country), shows great want of skill ; for the 
 numbers must embarrass instead of assisting, and the conse- 
 quence has been the loss of hundreds of those poor creatures, 
 who confess they do not know what they are going to fight 
 for. 
 
 ^ SfC «K 'T^ 'K ^ "r* 
 
 " There have been several skirmishes in this neighbourhood : 
 two hundred of them forced through our gates, and passed 
 across our front lawn, at three o'clock on Saturday morning 
 last, the 26th, when I saw them ; — but they went through 
 quietly. However, it is thought prudent to put our house in 
 a state of defence ; we are about it now, and we shall remain 
 in it. If I had not for ever experienced the goodness of God 
 upon trying occasions, I should be at a loss to account for my 
 total want of feeling, as to personal danger ; but, knowing 
 His mercy, I feel at this moment a safer natural strength, that 
 can only be sent me from Him. 
 
 " My heart is almost borne down with what I feel about 
 dear Edward and the familv. His mother and wife are two 
 
 \ The passages omitted contain some local details respecting the 
 rebellion, which would not now be read with any interest 
 
214 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 sores that I can find no balm for ; and I sometimes am almost 
 sinking under it, but I do not let it get so much tiie better of 
 me, as not to think of ever}'' thing that can serve him ; but 
 alas ! how little is in my power, being in no secrets whatever ! 
 • " But to return to the rebels : they have a, camp at Black- 
 more Hill, near Rusborough ; are in possession of Lord Mil- 
 town's house, another camp at Taragh, and another at Staple- 
 town, near the Bog of Allen. At Dunboyne, the first breaking 
 out appeared ; and the town is burned down all to a few 
 houses. Mr. Couolly tells me, that the destruction in the 
 county from Sallins to KilcuUen bridge made him sick, and 
 that many years cannot restore the mischief. We are happy 
 in having been able to preserve Celbridge, and the poor people, 
 I trust, will find that ice are their best friends at last. You 
 may be sure that v/e are protecting them to the best of our 
 power. God bless you. I will endeavour to keep a journal 
 of what passes here ; I shall pretend to no more, for I can 
 know but little of what passes in Dublin. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 *'L. COXOLLY." 
 
 The mutual attachment by which the whole Leinster family 
 were so remarkably bound, together was even more warm be- 
 tween Lord Edward and Lord Henry than betv^een any of its 
 other members. " Dear Harry ! — he is perfect,"* was the 
 enthusiastic feeling which Lord Edward no less sincerely enter- 
 tained than he tiius strongly expressed, and which was an- 
 swered with a corresponding warmth on the part of his bro- 
 ther. When millions, therefore, were mourning the fate of 
 the gallant Edward, what must have been the sorrow of one 
 so near and so devoted to him ? Soon after the dreadful 
 news reached him. Lord Henry hurried over to Dublin, re- 
 solved to share the sufi'erer's prison and be his attendant and 
 nurse. But, by a sternness of policy which it seems impossible 
 to justify, even the privilege of a single interview with his 
 brother was denied to him ; and he was left, day after day, in 
 a state of anguish only to be conceived by those who knew 
 the strength of his affections, to implore this favour of the lord 
 lieutenant and his advisers in vain. The following is one of 
 the answers which he received to his applications : — 
 
 * See a letter of Lord Edward's, p. 8S. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 215 
 
 FROil THE EARL OF CLARE TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Ely Place, Sunday, 3 o'clock. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you, that it will be impossible, for the 
 present, to comply with your wishes ; and ii" I could explain 
 to you the grounds of this restriction, even you would hardly 
 be induced to condemn it as unnecessarily harsh. 
 
 " Always very truly yours, 
 
 " My Dear lord, 
 
 " Clare, C." 
 
 This resolution, so harshly persevered in, not to suffer any 
 of Lord Edward's own friends to see him, is rendered still 
 worse by the fact that, in some instances, the government 
 relaxed this rule of exclusion ; and I have been told by Mr. 
 Brown, — a gentleman already mentioned, as having received 
 from Lord Clare the present of Lord Edward's dagger, — that, 
 through the favour of the same nobleman, he was himself, a 
 day or two after the arrest, admitted to the noble prisoner. 
 This gentleman's father was, it seems, the landlord of the 
 house in which the fatal event occurred, and having a desire to 
 speak with Murphy, on the subject of the lease, he procured 
 an order of admission from Lord Clare, to which was added 
 also a permission to see Lord Edward. Having first visited 
 the unfortunate Murphy, he proceeded to Lord Edward's 
 room, where he found his right of entrance contested by two 
 ruffianly-looking members of Beresford's corps of yeomanry, 
 who were there standing, with their swords drawn, beside the 
 bed of the sufferer. On his showing the order, however, from 
 Lord Clare, he was admitted : and having mentioned, in the 
 few minutes' conversation^ he had with Lord Edward, that he 
 had just been in Murphy's room, his lordship, with his usual 
 kindness of feeling, recollecting the blow he had seen Swan 
 give to his host with the pistol, said, in a faint voice, '* And 
 how is poor Murphy's face ?'' 
 
 Even for the purpose of drawing up his will, which took 
 place on the 2Tth of May, no person at all conected with his 
 own family was allowed to have access to him ; and Mr. John 
 Leeson, who executed the instrument, sat in a carriage, at the 
 door of the prison, while Mr. Stewart, the government sur- 
 
216 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 geon, communicated between him and the prisoner during the 
 transaction. The following is the sketch of the will indited 
 under such circumstances : — 
 
 " I, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, do make this as my last Avill 
 and testament, hereby revoking all others : that is to say, I 
 leave all estates of whatever sort I may die possessed of to 
 my wife, Lady Pamela Fitzgerald, as a mark of my esteem, 
 love, and contidence in her, for and during her natural life, and 
 on her death to descend, share and share alike, to my children 
 or the survivors of them ; she maintaining and educating the 
 children according to her discretion ; and I constitute her ex- 
 ecutrix of this my last will and testament. Signed, sealed, 
 and delivered May the 26, 1798. 
 
 " In presence of -'"^ 
 
 During this painfal interval, the anxiety of Lord Edward's 
 friends in England was, as the following letters will show, no 
 less intense and active. The letter from the late king will be 
 found to afford an amiable instance of that sort of i>'ood-na- 
 ture which formed so atoning an ingredient in his character. 
 While, with the world in general, it seems to be a rule to em- 
 ploy towards living kings the language only of praise, reserv- 
 ing all the license of censure to be let loose upon them when 
 dead, it is some pleasure to reverse this safe, but rather ignoble 
 policy, and, after having shocked all the loyal and courtly by 
 speaking with more truth than prudence of his late majesty 
 when living, to render justice now to the few amiable qualities 
 which he possessed, at a time when censure alone is heard 
 over his grave from others. Seldom, indeed, were the kindlier 
 feelings of George the Fourth more advantageously exhibited 
 than on the subject of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, — not only at 
 the time of which we are speaking, when, on his first inter- 
 view with the afflicted mother of his noble friend, he is said 
 to have wept with all the tenderness of a woman in speaking 
 of him, but at a much later period, when it was in his power, 
 as monarch, to perform an act of humane justice towards 
 Lord Edward's oifspring, which, both as monarch and man, 
 reflects the highest honour upon him. 
 
 * The signatures to the iastrunient itself were " Alex. Lindsay, Geo. 
 Stewart, and Sara. Stone." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 21*1 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "Whitehall, June loth, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR HENRY, 
 
 " Your poor wife has been with me, much alarmed, this 
 morning, at the idea that your generous but, I must say, im- 
 prudent offer of sharing your brother's prison would be allowed 
 of. She very justly fears that it would materially hurt your 
 health, and expose you to many dangers ; but we trust more 
 to other reasons than those which are personal to yourself, to 
 hope you will abandon that plan, — and those are what you 
 yourself state, namely, that some friends think you could be 
 much more useful out than in prison. In it you would do no 
 other good than afford a comfort to his mind, which, thank God, 
 has fortitude enough to support itself under all its present 
 pressures ; but, out, you may be of essential service to him, by 
 a calm and prudent behaviour, which will make you listened to 
 when you represent how impossible it is for him, under the 
 bodily pains he suffers, and the debility they must leave on his 
 mind, to do himself justice on his trial ; — that the very ends 
 of justice would be defeated, by arraigning a man, who, from 
 illness, is not capable of defending himself ; as the object of 
 iustice, such as it is the glory of our constitution to distribute, 
 is to give a prisoner every fair means of defence ; — that inde- 
 pendently of his bodily and mental complaints, the present 
 state of Ireland, in which men of all descriptions must have 
 their minds much agitated, and their passions stirred with just 
 resentment against the attacks on the constitution, affords no 
 room to hope for that calm, dispassionate, and fair investiga- 
 tion of truth which is so necessary to make justice loved and 
 respected ; and that therefore a delay of his trial seems neces- 
 sary to give him fair play, and to convince the world, that, if 
 he is found guilty, he really is so ; for, tried under all the pre- 
 sent circumstances of his illness, and the temper of the times, 
 it will never be believed that he was fairly convicted, if such 
 should be the issue of a trial now carried on. 
 
 " But there is another point of view in which it appears to 
 me that it will be impossible to try him now, and that is the 
 existence of martial law at this moment in DuVjlin. While 
 that subsists, all other law must be silent, and we are told 
 that, in consequence of it, the judges have sluit up the courts, 
 
218 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and will not try the common suits. With how much more 
 reason must it then be objected, to try a prisoner for his life 
 for crimes alledged on the very subject that has caused the ex- 
 istence of martial law ; and, while it exists, how can any jury- 
 man, or any witness, or indeed the judges themselves, feel that 
 they are safe, when they may be taken out of court, or seized 
 the moment they quit it, and be flogged or hanged at the will 
 of the military ? I am not saying any thing against these 
 measures : they may have been deemed necessary ; nor do I sup- 
 pose that government would, by their power, influence a judge, 
 juror, or witness ; but the fear that underlings may, will pro- 
 duce the same efi'ect, and make men afraid to speak truth that 
 may not be acceptable, lest they should be considered and 
 treated as marked men, and justice will of course not be free. 
 
 " No mischief can arise from a delay. Your brother can- 
 not escape ; and whatever may be his fate, government itself 
 will gain infinitely more credit by postponing his trial till the 
 times can afford a fair one, than by hurrying it on, as if they 
 thought they could not convict him but through passion and 
 prejudice. 
 
 " I have been with Mr. Pitt, and stated the substance of 
 these arguments to him, and, with his approbation, have stated 
 them to the lord lieutenant, in whose justice and moderation 
 I have too much confidence not to believe but that they will 
 have weight. Don't show this letter, so as to make it a topic 
 of conversation, which might do more harm than good : but I 
 have no objection to your making use of it where you think 
 it can be of any real use. 
 
 " Good God ! how different will the proceedings in Ireland 
 be from the humane laws of this country in criminal cases, 
 which here in times of profound peace, remove even the ap- 
 pearance of all military from the town where the assizes are 
 held, lest there being there should be supposed to cause the 
 smallest influence, — how different from a trial in a court, at 
 the doors of which any man may be instantaneously hanged 
 by the military, without trial ! But I convince myself the 
 tiling is impossible, and that a reasonable delay, and certainly 
 till martial law ceases, will be allowed. 
 
 " Adieu, my dear Henry ; you will hear from others that 
 your mother sets off to-morrow for Ireland. Her fortitude 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 219 
 
 adds a respect and dignity to her sufferings that I think no 
 heart can resist. 
 
 " Adieu ! Heaven ever bless and protect you. 
 
 " I am, ever, 
 " Your most affectionate uncle, 
 
 "Richmond, &c." 
 
 FROM HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS GEORGE, PRINCE OF WALES, TO 
 
 WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Carlton-House, June 6, 1798. 
 Three-quarters past 5, P. M. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I feel SO truly for the dutchess and the unfortunate Ed- 
 ward, that I am sure there is nothing in the world I would 
 not attempt to mitigate the pangs ^\•hich I am afraid but too 
 much distress her grace at the present dreadful crisis. I would, 
 were I in the habit of so doing, most undoubtedly write to Lord 
 Clare ; though, even were that the case, I should hesitate as 
 to the propriety of so doing, thinking such an application to t/ie 
 chancellor might be subject to misconstruction, and consequent- 
 ly detrimental to Lord Edward's interests. But I have no 
 hesitation in allowing you to state to his lordship how much 
 pleased I shall be, and how much I am sensible it will concili- 
 ate to him the affections of every humane and delicate mind, 
 if every opportunity is given to poor Lord Edward to obtain 
 an impartial trial, by delaying it till his state of health shall 
 be so recruited as to enable him to go through the awful scene 
 with fortitude ;* and until the minds of men have recovered 
 their usual tone, so absolutely necessary for the firm adminis- 
 tration of justice. 
 
 " This, my dear sir, I have no scruple to admit of your 
 stating in confidence, and with my best compliments, to the 
 lord chancellor. My long and sincere regard for both the 
 Dutchess and Duke of Leinster would have naturally made 
 me wish to exert myself still more, were I not afraid by sucn 
 exertion I might do more harm than good. 
 
 " Excuse this scrawl, which I pen iu the utmost hurry, fear- 
 
 * It will be seen by a subsequent letter that the Duke of York 
 exerted himself with such zeal on this point, that he succeeded in 
 obtaining the royal consent to a delaj' of the trial. 
 
220 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ing that you may have left London before this reaches 
 Harley-street. I am, dear sir, with many compUments to the 
 dutchess, 
 
 " Yery sincerely yours, 
 
 " George P. 
 "WilHam Ogilvie, Esq." 
 
 FROM THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES FOX TO LORD HENRY 
 
 FITZGERALD. 
 
 " DEAR LORD HENRY, 
 
 " St. Anne's-hill, June 1. 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear so bad an account of poor dear 
 Edward's wounds, which give me much more apprehension 
 than his trial, if he is to have a fair one. I understand from 
 Lady Henry that you wish his friends to go to Du1)lin. I am 
 sure you will not suspect me of a wish to save myself on such 
 an occasion, and therefore I have no difficulty in saying that 
 I think, and that upon much reflection, that my going is far 
 more likely to be hurtful than serviceable to him ; but if you 
 and Mr. Ponsonby, his counsel, think otherwise, I will set out 
 whenever you think it necessary 111 as I think of the Irish 
 government, I cannot help hoping that the trials will be put 
 off for some time at least, from a consideration of their own 
 reputation. At any rate, the time between the arraignment 
 and the trial will, I suppose, be sufficient to send for such of 
 us as you wish. 
 
 " If vou see mv dear, dear Edward, I need not desire you 
 to tell him that I love him with the warmest affection. When 
 I hear of the fortitude with which he has borne his sufferings, 
 I hear no more than what I expected from him, though from 
 him only could I have looked for so much. God bless you, 
 my dear cousin ! 
 
 " Yours affectionatelv, 
 
 "C. J.' Fox." 
 
 Except as some comfort to the wounded hearts of his sur- 
 vivors, this sympathy was now unaviling. A day or two be- 
 fore these letters, so creditable to the feelings that dictated 
 them, were written, the gallant spirit of him who was the ob- 
 ject, of all this tenderness had been released from its pains. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 221 
 
 Through the following memorandums, which I find in Lord 
 Henry's handwriting, may be traced more touehingly than in 
 the most elaborate narrative the last stages of his suffering. 
 
 " Has he got fruit ? — does he want linen ? 
 
 " How will the death of R. (Ryan) affect him ? 
 
 ** What informers are supposed to be against him ? 
 
 " Upon his pain subsiding, the hearing of Ryan's death 
 (which he must have heard) caused a dreadful turn in his 
 mind. 
 
 " Affected strongly on the 2d of June — began to be ill 
 about 3. — Clinch executed before the prison. He must have 
 known of it — asked what the noise was. 
 
 *' 2d of June, in the evening, was in the greatest danger. 
 
 " Mr. Stone, the officer that attended him, removed the 2d 
 of June — could not learn who was next put about him. 
 
 " 2d of June, in the evening, a keeper from a madhouse 
 put with him — but finding him better in the night, left him. 
 
 " June 3d, exhausted, but composed. 
 
 " 3d of June, wrote chancellor a pressing letter to see E." 
 
 The answer of the chancellor to the application here men- 
 tioned was as follows : — 
 
 FROM THE EARL OF CLARE TO LORD HENRY" FITZGERALD. 
 
 "Ely-place, J^ine 3d, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " Be assured that it is not in my power to procure admis- 
 sion for you to Lord Edward. You will readily believe that 
 Lord Camden's situation is critical iu the extreme. The ex- 
 tent and enormity of the treason which has occasioned so 
 many arrests make it essentially necessary, for the preserva- 
 tion of the state, that access should be denied to the friends 
 of all the persons now in confinement for treason. Judge, 
 then, my dear lord, the situation in which Lord Camden will 
 be placed, if this rule is dispensed with in one instance. ^Nlr. 
 Stewart has just now left me, and from his account of Lord 
 Edward, he is in a situation which threatens his life. Per- 
 haps, if he should get into such a state as will justify it, your 
 request may be complied with ; and, believe me, it will give 
 
222 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 me singular satisfaction if you can be gratified. You may 
 rest assured that his wound is as well attended to as it can be. 
 
 " Yours always, truly, my dear lord, 
 
 " Clare." 
 
 On the same day the following letter from a fellow-prisoner 
 of Lord Edward was written : — 
 
 FROM MR. MATTHEW BOWLING TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Newgate, Sd June. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " Having, in happier days, had some success and much satis- 
 faction in being concerned for you and Mr. Grattan on the 
 city election, I take the liberty of writing to inform you that 
 your brother Lord Edward, is most dangerously ill — in fact, 
 dying — he was delirious some time last night. Surely, my 
 lord, some attention ought to be paid him. I know you'll 
 pardon this application. 
 
 "I am yours, 
 " With respect and regard, 
 
 '' Matt. Dowling." 
 "I am a prisoner a few day days, — on what charge I know 
 not. 
 
 " He is now better, and has called for a chicken for din 
 ner. 
 
 " Past 2. 
 
 " Seeing you or any friend he has confidence in, would I 
 think be more conducive to his recovery than 50 surgeons. I 
 saw him a few moments last night — but he did not know me 
 — we'll watch him as well as is in our power." 
 
 On the night of the 3d of June, it having become manifest 
 that the noble prisoner could not survive many hours, the 
 hearts of those in authority at length relented, and Lord 
 Henry and Lady Louisa Conolly were permitted to take a last 
 look of their dying relative."^ 
 
 * Tlie folio-wing narrative of the arrest of Lord Edward Fitzger- 
 ald at the house of Mr. jS'icholas Murphy, No. 153 Thomas street, was 
 drawn up by the latter, partly daring the period of his long confine* 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 223 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILYIE, ESQ. 
 
 Dublin, June Itli, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " At two o'clock this morning our beloved Edward was at 
 peace ; and, as the tender and watchful merc}^ of God is ever 
 
 ment in Newgate, and that portion of it relating to events of a later 
 date, written'subsequently to his liberation, at ditFerent and evidently 
 at distant intervals. From the time of his death it remained in the 
 hands of his sister, who is still living in the city of Dublin. 
 
 All Accouvt of the Arr^ of the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Written 
 by Xicliolas Miirpliy, in tchose house the arrest took place. 
 
 " On the night of Friday, the 18th May, 1798, Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald came to ui}' house (Xo. 153 Thomas street) in com^^any with a 
 Lady ^.Mrs. Moore) about the hour of ten or eleven o'clock at niglit. 
 I did expect him the previous evening, and the reason I state this is, 
 that a friend of his came to me, and requested that I would receive 
 him, as he wished to move from where he was at present. I was get- 
 ting the house cleaned down and secured, and I brought his friend in, 
 and he saw tlie persons employed as I told him. He mentioned that 
 it was not intended to remove him immediately, but said, 'I think a 
 week or ten days would answer.' I assented, and indeed with reluct- 
 ance : — however, I made no mention of that. In a few days previous 
 to Lord Edward's coming the government had offered one thousand 
 pounds reward for his apprehension, I certainly felt very uneasy at 
 this circumstance, and 1 wished very much to see Lord Edward, but 
 where to see him I did not know. As a man of honour, I wished to 
 keep my word, and I could not think of refusing him admittance 
 when he came. Unfortunately for him and myself, 1 did keep my 
 word. I expected him on Thursday, but he did not come till Friday, 
 the ISth of May, 1798. I perceived he looked very bad and altered 
 from what he appeared ichen I saw him before. The lady that came 
 with him did not stay long, and I made a tender of my services to go 
 home with her, as she lived in the neighbourhood, there was a person 
 that we met on our way who I believe was waiting for her, — I had 
 some knowledge of him myself, — I returned to the house with a trou- 
 bled mind. Lord Edward told me he was ver\- ill with a cold, and it 
 Avas easy to perceive it. I had {)rocured for him whey, and put some 
 sherry wine in it. At this time he appeared quite tranquil, and went 
 up to the room intended for him — the back room in the attic story. 
 In the morning he came down to breakfast, and appeared better than 
 the night before. The friend that spoke to me respecting his coming, 
 came, 1 believe, about eleven o'clock. Then came out, for the first 
 time, an account of the rencontre that took place the night before, 
 between Lord Edward's party and Major Sirr's, It is perfectly clear, 
 in my humble judgment, that Major Sirr had known of his removal 
 
224 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 over the afflicted, we have reason to siijjpose this dissolution 
 took place at the moment that it was fittest it should do so. — 
 
 and the direction he intended to take, for his party and Lord Edward's 
 came in contact in a place called Island-street, at the lower end of 
 Watling-street. They there met, and a skirmish took place, and, in 
 the confusion. Lord Edward got off; however, one of the part\' was 
 taken, but could not be identiiied. I found my situation now Aery 
 painful, but nothing to what it was afterwards. In the course of the 
 day (Saturday 19th), there was a guard of soldiers, and I believe 
 Major Swan, Major Sirr, a Mr. Medlieot, and another, making a search 
 at Mr. Moore's house, the Yellow Lion, in Thomas-street. A friend 
 came and mentioned the circumstance to me, I immediately mentioned 
 it to Lord Edward, and had him conve^'ed out of the house, and con- 
 cealed in a vallc}', on the roof of one of the warehouses. While I 
 ■was doing this, Sam. Xeilson came, and inquired of the girl if I was at 
 home. I believe the girl said not. ' Bid him be cautious,' I think, 
 was what she told me he said. I considered that conduct of his very 
 ill-timed, however, I am led to believe it was well intended. 
 
 On Saturday morning, the daj- of the arrest, there came a single 
 rap at the door. I opened it myself, and a woman with a bundle ap- 
 peared, and inquired if that was Mr. Murphy's. I said it was. She 
 informed me tliat she came from Mrs. Moore, and was directed to 
 leave that bundle there. I knew not what it contained, but to ray 
 surprise, when I opened it, I found it to be a uniform, of a very 
 beautiful green colour, gimpt or braided down the front, with crimson 
 and rose-colour cuffs and cape ; there were two dresses — one a long- 
 skirted coat, vest and pantaloons, the other a short jacket, that came 
 round quite close, and was braided in front; there was also a pair of 
 overalls, that buttoned from the hip to the ankle, with, I think, black 
 Spanish leather on the sides. I suppose they were intended for riding. 
 The bundle contained a cap of a A^ery fanciful description, extremely 
 attractive, formed exactly like a sugar-loaf — that part that went round 
 the forehead green, the upper part crimson, with a large tassel, Avhich 
 inclined on one side or other occasionally when on the head. After 
 placing Lord Edward in the valley, on the roof of the warehouse, I 
 came down in a little time and stood at the gate, the soldiers still at 
 Mr. Moore's. 
 
 I perceived four persons walking in the middle of the street, some 
 of them in uniform. I believe yeomen. I think Major Swan and 
 Captain Medlieot was of the party. Towards four o'clock. Lord Edward 
 came down to dinner, ever^-thing was supposed to be still. Now at 
 this time, Sam. Xeilson came in to see us. Dinner was nearly read\% I 
 asked him to stay and dine, which he accepted. Xothing particular 
 occurred, except speaking on a variety of subjects, when Mr. Xeilson, 
 as if something struck him, immediately went away leaving us toge^ 
 ther. There was very little wine taken. Lord Edward was very 
 abstemious. In a short time I went out, and now the tragedy com- 
 menced. I wished to leave Lord Edward to himself. I was absent I 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 225 
 
 On Friday ni^ht, a very 2:reat lowness came on, tliat made 
 those about him consider him much in dan^rer. On Saturday, 
 he seemed to have recovered the attack, but on that niirht was 
 again attacked with spasms, that subsided again yesterday 
 morning. But, in the course of the day, Mrs. Pakenham 
 (from whom I had my constant accounts) thought it best to 
 
 suppose about an hour. I came into the room where we dined, being 
 the back drawing-room, he was not there. I went to the sleeping- 
 room, he was in bed. It was at this time about seven o'ckielc. I 
 asked him to come down to tea. I was not in the room three minutes 
 when in came Major Swan, and a person following him in a soldier's 
 jacket, and a sword in his hand, he wore a round hat. When I saw- 
 Major Swan I was thunderstruck. I put myself before him, and asked 
 his business. He looked over me and saw Lord Edward in the bed. 
 He pushed by me quickly, and Lord Edward seeing him, sprung up 
 instantly like a tiger, and drew a dagger which he had carried about 
 him, and wounded Major Swan slightly, I believe. Major Swan had 
 a pistol in his waistcoat pocket, which he tired without effect, he im- 
 mediately turned to me and gave me a severe thrust of the pistol un- 
 der the eye, at the same time desiring the person that came in with 
 him, to ttake me into custody. I was immediately taken away to the 
 yard, there I saw Major Sirr and about six soldiers of the Dumbarton 
 Fencibles. Major Swan had thought proper to run as fast as he could 
 to the street, and I think he never looked behind him till he got out of 
 danger, and he was then parading up and down the flags, exhiluting 
 his linen Avhieh was stained with blood, Mr. Ryan supplied Major 
 Swan's place, he came in contact with Lord Edward and was wounded 
 seriously. Major Sirr at that time came up stairs, and keeping at a 
 respectful distance, fired a pistol at Lord Edward in a very deliberate 
 manner, and wounded him in the Tipper part of the shoulder. Re-in- 
 forcements coming in, Lord Edward surrendered after a very hard 
 struggle. * * * * 
 
 In some time a carriage came and I was placed in it, and brought 
 off to the Castle and there placed in the Castle guard-house. * * * 
 A large guard was ordered to prime and load, then I was placed in 
 the centre, and marched off to Xewgate. * ^ * 
 
 Two surgeons attended daily on Lord Edward Fitzgerald. It' was 
 supposed, the evening of the day before he died, he was delirious, as 
 we could hear him, with a very strong voice crying out — 'come on! 
 come on ! d — n you, come on! ' He spoke so loud that the people in 
 the street gathered to listen to it. He died the next day early in the 
 morning, on the 3d of June. The surgeons attended and opened the 
 body, tlien he was seen for the first time by the prisoners. The bowels 
 were opened, and whatever was found there was thrown under the 
 grate, and then the part opened was sewn up. He had about his neck 
 a gold chain suspending a locket with hair in it." — Maddens United 
 Irishmen. 
 
226 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 send an express for me. I came to town, and got leave to go, 
 with my poor dear Henry, to see him. 
 
 " Tiianks to the great God ! our visit was timed to the mo- 
 ment that the wretched situation allowed of. His mmd had 
 been agitated for two days, and the feeUng was enough gone, 
 not to be overcome by the sight of his brother and me. We 
 had the consolation of seeing and feeling that it was a pleasure 
 to him. I first approached his bed : he looiied at me, knew 
 me, kissed me, and said (what will never depart from my ears), 
 * It is heaven to me to see you !' and, shortly after, turning to 
 the other side of his bed, he said, ' I can t see you.' I went 
 round, and he soon after kissed my hand, and smiled at me, 
 which I shall never forget, thoui>:h I saw death in his dear 
 face at the time. I then told him that Henry was come. He 
 said nothing tliat marked surprise at his being in Ireland, 
 but expressed joy at hearing it, and said, ' Where is he, dear 
 fellow V 
 
 " Henry then took my place, and the two dear brothers fre- 
 quently embraced each other, to the melting a heart of stone ; 
 and yet God enabled both Henry and myself to remain quite 
 composed. As every one left the room, we told him we only 
 were with him. He said, ' That is very pleasant.' However, 
 he remained silent, and I then brought in the subject of Lady 
 Edward, and told him that I had not left her until I saw her 
 on board ; and Henry told him of having met her on tlie road 
 well. He said, 'And the children too"? — She is a charming 
 woman :' and then became silent again. That expression 
 about Lady Edward proved to me that his senses were much 
 lulled, and that he did not feel his situation to be what it was ; 
 but, thank God ! they were enough alive to receive pleasure 
 from seeing his brother and me. Dear Henry, in particular, 
 he looked at continually with an expression of pleasure. 
 
 " When we left him, we told him, that as he appeared 
 inclined to sleep, we would wish him a good night, and return 
 in the morning. He said, ' Do, do ;' but did not express any 
 uneasiness at our leaving him. We accordingly tore ourselves 
 away, and very shortly after Mr. Garnet, (the surgeon that 
 attended him for the two days, upon the departure of Mr. 
 Stone, the officer that had been constantly with him) sent me 
 word that the last convulsions soon came on, and ended at two 
 o'clock, so that we were within two hours and a half before the 
 
LORD EDTVARD FITZGERALD. 22T 
 
 ibad close to a life we prized so dearly,* He sometimes said, 
 * I knew it must come to this, and we must all go ;' and then 
 rambled a little about militia, and numbers ; but upon my 
 saying to him, ' It agitates you to talk upon those subjects,' 
 he said, * Well, I won't.' 
 
 " I hear that he frequently composed his dear mind with 
 prayer, — was vastly devout, and as late as yesterday evening, 
 got Mr. Garnet, the surgeon, to read in the Bible the death of 
 Christ, the subject picked out by himself, and seemed much 
 composed by it. In short, My dear Mr. Ogilvie, we have 
 every reason to think that his mind was made up to his situa- 
 tion, and can look to his present happy state with thanks for 
 his release. Such a heart and such a mind may meet his God ! 
 The friends that he was entangled with pushed his destruction 
 forward, screening themselves behind his valuable character. 
 God bless you ! The ship is just sailing, and Henry puts this 
 into the post at Holyhead. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 " L. C." 
 
 From the heart-breaking scene here described Lord Henry 
 hurried off, instantly, to Holyhead, and from thence, in the 
 agony of the moment, addressed a long letter to Lord Cam- 
 den, of which it would be injustice to both parties to lay the 
 Avhole before the world ; — the noble writer being at the time 
 in a state of excitement that left him scarcely the master of 
 his own thoughts, while in the gross, gratuitous cruelty which 
 marked, on this, as on all other occasions, the conduct of the 
 Irish government. Lord Camden had no further share than 
 what arose out of the lamentable weakness with which he 
 surrendered his own humaner views to the overruling violence 
 of others. This vindication of his lordship, — if vindication it 
 can be called, to defend thus his humanity at the expense of 
 his good sense— was brought forward, during the very heat of 
 
 * The following is Mr. Garnet's note announcing the event : 
 
 "Six o'clock, June 3d, 1798. 
 
 " Mr. Garnet presents his most respectful compliments to Lady 
 
 Louisa CouoUy, and begs leave to communicate to her the melancholy 
 
 intelligence of Lord Edward Fitzgerald's death. He drew his last 
 
 breath at two o'clock this morning, after a struggle that began soon 
 
 after his friends left him last night." 
 
228 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the crisis itself, by one who best knew the real authors of 
 that system of governing from the guilt of which he so far 
 exonerated his chief. In boasting of the success of those 
 measures of coercion which had l3een adopted by the Irish 
 government, Lord Clare expressedly avowed, in the house of 
 Lords, that they " were, to his knoicledge, extorted from the 
 nobleman who governed that countrv." 
 
 To this best of all testimonies on such a point, is to be ad- 
 ded also the evidence of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, who always 
 declared, that in every suggestion which he had, in his own 
 capacity, tendered to the Irish cabinet, recommending the 
 adoption of a more liberal and conciliatory policy, he had been 
 invariably supported in the council by Lord Camden ; though, 
 when matters came to a decision, the more violent spirits car- 
 ried it their own wav, and the sanction of the lord lieutenant 
 was thus yielded to a course of measures which, in his heart, 
 he disapproved. For these reasons, as well as from a sincere 
 admiration of the disinterestedness which, as a public servant, 
 this nobleman has displayed, I most willingly expunge from 
 Lord Henry's letter all such expressions as, though natural in 
 his state of feeling, at the moment, appear to me undeservedly 
 harsh towards the noble person to whom they are applied. 
 
 FROM LORD HENRY FITZGERALD TO THE EARL OF CAMDEX. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " A little removed from scenes of misery and wretchedness 
 scarcely to be equalled, I feel myself, thank God ! sufficiently 
 composed to write you this letter. I owe it to the memory of 
 a beloved, I may almost say an adored brother. An uncom- 
 mon affection, from our childhood, subsisted between us ; such 
 a one as * * *. The purport of this, however, is not to give 
 a loose to reproaches alone, but to state to you, and to the 
 world ^ ^ * supported by facts. A full catalogue of them 
 would take up many pages ; mine is very short. Many indig- 
 nities offered to him I shall for the present pass over in silence, 
 and begin from the time of my arrival in Ireland, which was 
 last Thursday. 
 
 " Surgeon Lindsay, who attended my brother with Surgeon 
 Stewart, told me, when I really had imagined my brother to 
 be in a recovering state, that, a few days before, he had been 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 229 
 
 dangerously ill : ' apprehensive of a lock jaw' was his expres- 
 sion ; and that he had been consulted about the breast. I 
 also learned that he had made his will, &c. Mr. Lindsay- 
 added, ' But, however, he is now much better ;' and told me, 
 also, that the wounds were going on well, and that he did not 
 apprehend any danger from them. When I came to inquire 
 into the circumstances relating to the signing of the will from 
 others, I find this suffering, dying man was not even allowed 
 to see his lawyer, a young man he put confidence in, but the 
 paper was handed first in and then out of the prison, through 
 the hands of the surgeons. Possiljly he might have had little 
 or nothing to say to his lawyer, but a decent consideration of 
 his situation ought to have left him a choice of seeing him or not. 
 
 " Thus situated as he was, who would have thought, my 
 lord, but that, upon my arrival, you would yourself have 
 urged me to see him. * * "^^ After this came my audience of 
 your excellency : * * * — I implored, I intreated of you, to let 
 me see him. I never begged hard before. All, all in vain ! 
 you talked of lawyers' opinions ; — of what had been refused to 
 others and could not be granted for me in the same situation. 
 His was not a common case ; — he was not in the same situa- 
 tion ; he was wounded, and in a manner dying, and his bitter- 
 est enemy could not have murmured, had your heart been 
 softened, or had you swerved a little from duty (if it can be 
 called one) in the cause of humanity. 
 
 " On Friday, the surgeon told me still that the wounds were 
 going on well ; but that he perceived, as the pain subsided, 
 that his mind was more than usually engaged. He felt ill- 
 treatment. =5^ * * * — l3ut he communed with his God, and 
 his God did not forsake him. But, oh ! my lord, what a day 
 was Saturday for him ! >k * ^ >!c :>. q^ ^gaturday, my poor 
 forsaken brother, who had but that night and the next day to 
 live, was disturbed ; — he heard the noise of the execution of 
 CUnch, at the prison door. He asked, eagerly, ' What noise 
 is that V and certainlv in some manner or other he knew it ; 
 for, — God ! what am 1 to write ? — from that time he lost 
 his senses : most part of the night he was raving mad ; a 
 keeper from a madhouse was necessary. Thanks to the 
 Almighty, he got more composed towards morning. 
 
 "]S[ow, my lord, shall I scruple to declare to the world, — I 
 wish I could to the four quarters of it ! — that among you, 
 
230 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 your ill-treatment has murdered my brother, as much as if you 
 had put a pistol to his head. In this situation uo charitable 
 message arrives to his relations, no offer to allow attaelied 
 servants to attend upon him, who could have been depended 
 upon in keeping dreadful news of all sorts from liim. Xo, no ; 
 to his grave in madness, 3'ou would pursue him, — to his grave 
 you persecuted him. 
 
 " One would think I could add no more, — but I have not 
 yet done. At this very time, a Mr. Stone, an officer, that was 
 in the room with him, whom they tell me he grew fond of and 
 liked, was removed, and a total stranger put about him. Are 
 you aware, my lord, of the comfort, of the happiness of see- 
 ing well-known faces round the bed of sickness, and the cruelty 
 ot the reverse ? or, have you hitherto been so much a stranger 
 to the infirmities of this mortal life, as never to have known 
 what it was to feel joy in pain, or cheerfulness in sorrow, from 
 the pressure of a friend's hand, or the kind looks of relations ? 
 yet he, my lord, possessed as he was of the tenderness of a 
 woman to all whom he loved, was abandoned, most barbar- 
 ously neglected ;— a man to attend him (and that, I believe, 
 
 only latterly,) as a nurse. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 1^ 
 
 " These were his friends, these his attendants on his death- 
 bed in Newgate. Sunday, I urged the chancellor once more, 
 and stung him so home, with regard to the unheard-of cruelty 
 of hanging Clinch close to my brother, in his \veak state, that 
 he did seem sorry and to relent. He said, ' It was very wrong 
 indeed, that he was sorry for it, that it should not happen 
 again, but that they did not know it,' was his expression. Oh, 
 my lord ! what does not this expression involve ? what vo- 
 lumes might be written on these last words ! — but that is 
 foreign to my purpose. At last the chancellor in a sort of 
 way, gave me hopes of seeing ray poor brother, — talked even 
 of the secrecy with which the visit must be conducted. The 
 joy of a reprieved wretch could not exceed mine ; — it was of 
 short duration. The prospect that gladdened me with the 
 hopes that, in the interval, when he was quiet, I might still be 
 a comfort, — be of use to him, — vanished. A note from the 
 chancellor came, saying, that my request could not be granted. 
 What severity could surpass this ? 
 
 " In the evening of the same day, the surgeons told me that 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 231 
 
 the symptoms of death were such as made them think he 
 would not last out the niglit. Then, I believe, the Ahnighty 
 smote your consciences ! Lady Louisa and myself indeed saw 
 him three hours before he breathed his last, in the grated room 
 of Newgate. God help you ! that was the extent of your 
 charity. This was your justice in mercy, — but I will not im- 
 bitter the sweet remembrance of that scene, which I hope 
 will go with me through life, by mistimed asperity, nor will I 
 dare to talk of it * * =^ 
 
 ^ :it 4c ^ ;|c 4c 
 
 " My grief has plunged me deeper into correspondence with 
 you than I at first wished ; but to recount a brother's suffer- 
 ings, a brother's wrongs, and, above all, his patience, is, and 
 will be, my duty to the end of my life. I will complain for 
 him, though his great heart never uttered a complaint for him- 
 self, from the day of his confinement. My lord, you did not 
 know him, and happy is it for you. He was no common being. 
 I have now eased my mind of a part of the load that oppressed 
 it, and shall now conclude, returning thanks to that kind Pro- 
 vidence that directed my steps to Ireland, just in time to dis- 
 cover and be the recorder of these foul deeds. 
 
 " One word more and I have done, as I alone am answera- 
 ble for this letter. Perhaps you will still take compassion on 
 his wife and three babes, the eldest not four years old. The op- 
 portunity that I ofi'er is to protect their estate for them from 
 violence and plunder. You can do it if you please. I am, &c." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUSIA CONOLLVT TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "JNIonday evening, 7 o'clock. 
 
 " MY DEAREST HENRY, 
 
 " To tell you with what heartbreaking sorrow I parted with 
 you this morning is surely unnecessary. God protect you and 
 relieve you, my dear, dear nephew, for doubly dear does your 
 misfortunes make you to me. I have sent Shells for some 
 more hair, the little gray cloak, and all the apparel that we 
 saw on him, to be put by for you. I have also consented to 
 the funeral's taking place on Wednesday night, from a circum- 
 stance Dr. Lindsay informed me of, just as I returned from you, 
 which was the necessity of opening the body, as a coroner's 
 
232 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 inquest sat upon it, to ascertain the causes of dissolution, 
 which were proved to arise from fever. 
 
 " Mr. Stone and Mr. Shells are to go in the coach, and 1 
 have written down the direction for tlie intermediate attention, 
 — ordering the man and Avoman who attended him during the 
 illness to sit up these two nights, and sent them necessaries 
 for the puq^ose. I have got the watch and chain that hung 
 constantly round his neck, with a locket of hair, which I will 
 send you by the first opportunity, along with his own dear 
 hair. I have been also with Hamilton the painter. There 
 are two pictures of him, one for your mother, and the other 
 for you, besides one of Lucy, I believe, for you also. Mr. 
 Hamilton says they are not finished, and cannot be ready to 
 go to England these two months ; but he will hasten them as 
 much as possible, and I will take care to forward them. My 
 love to your dear wife, and believe me ever, my dearest Henry, 
 your most affectionate aunt and fellow-sufierer, 
 
 " L. CONOLLY." 
 
 FROM CHARLES LOCK, ESQ., TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Harley-street, June 9, 1798. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 "You will be glad to know that the intelligence of this 
 misfortune has not had the violent effect we feared upon Cecilia. 
 On Thursday we prepared her for it, by informing her that 
 Lord Edward was in extreme danger. She cried very much 
 during the course of the day, and being tired with the agita- 
 tion, and perhaps soothing herself with a ray of hope, slept 
 tolerably well. Yesterday, I was under the painful necessity 
 of disclosing to her the truth. S!ie had two hysteric fits, and 
 suff"ered dreadfully all the day ; but towards evening became 
 more composed, and was perfectly calm at bedtime. She slept 
 several hours, and is this morning, though extremely low, col- 
 lected, and seems resigned. Her grief will be lasting, but I 
 no longer fear any premature effects from its violence. 
 
 "What you write of Lady Sophia and Lucy is very com- 
 fortable. If Lady Lucy feared when her brother was arrested 
 that the event would be fatal, from knowing more of the mat- 
 ter than ourselves, it will account for the alarming state of 
 mind she was in previous to her leaving London, and I trust 
 
LORD ED-WARD FITZGERALD. 233 
 
 Blie will be lei?s afifected now. 1 think there is every reason to 
 hope, from tlie religious temper of mind the dear dntchess 
 possesses, that she will snpport herself under this heavy dis- 
 pensation with fortitude. My mother has been here constantly, 
 and so has Charlotte, who desires her love to you, and says 
 she does not write since I am writing. She has been of the 
 greatest assistance and comfort to Cecilia, from the composure 
 she has shown from the beginning, and will be so to her mother 
 and sisters when they arrive. 
 
 " Lord Henry came to town last night. The Dukes of 
 Richmond and Leinster have been to Stratford-place, but it 
 was thought prudent he should not see any one yet, as he is 
 much agitated and fatigued with all he has undergone. I 
 shall probably hear from you to-morrow, and I hope good 
 news. Believe me very sincerely yours, 
 
 '' Chas. Lock." 
 
 from the duke of richmond to william ogilvie, esq. 
 
 " Whiteliall, Jnne 9th, 1798. 
 
 " You will believe, my dear Mr. Ogilvie, how anxious I am 
 to hear of my poor sister. Charles Lock showed me, this 
 morning, your letter to him from Coles-hill ; and I trust we 
 shall hear again to-morrow how she is able to bear this dread- 
 ful blow. I doubt, that now the hopes of saving him, which 
 kept up her mind, and occupied her attention are gone, she 
 will sink into melancholy and wretched regret. The only 
 topics to keep her up are what you so wisely hint at in your let- 
 ter, — the reflections of how much worse it probably would have 
 ended, — the saving of his fortune for his children, — and the 
 pleasure of now showing to his wife and them the affection one 
 possessed for him. Little Edward will be an occupation for 
 my sister, and the reflection of the shocking scenes that have 
 been avoided will afford a comfort for a loss which, any way, 
 was, I fear, inevitable. 
 
 " Believe me, I feel much for the terrible task you have had, 
 of (conducting Lady Sophia and Lady Lucy from Towcester 
 to Coles-hill, and without female assistance. But you have 
 shown such kindness to them all, that the recollection of the 
 real use you have been of will, I trust, compensate for the 
 pain it has occasioned. You and my sister will be glad to 
 
234 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 know how those left here go on. As soon as I heard the event, 
 which the Duke of Portland very humanely communicated to 
 me, I sent to Harley-street to know if you was gone, and had 
 a messenger ready to despatch after you, when they brought 
 me word that Lady Henry had sent her servant. I went im- 
 mediately to Harley-street, and brought Lady Edward here, 
 trying to prepare her, in the coach, for bad news, which I re- 
 peatedly said I dreaded by the next post. She, however, did 
 not take my meaning. When she got here, we had Dr. Moseley 
 present, and, by degrees, we broke to her the sad event. Her 
 agonies of grief were very great, and violent hysterics soon 
 came on. When the Duke of Leinster came in, she took liim 
 for Edward, and you may imagine how cruel a scene it v/as. 
 But by degrees, though very slow ones, she grew more calm 
 at times : and, although she has had little sleep, and still less 
 food, ancl has nervous spasms, and appears much heated, yet I 
 hope and trust her health is not materially affected. She yes- 
 terday saw her children, and all of his family who had been 
 able to come here, but no one else, except Miss Coote, who 
 got admittance by mistake. She is as reasonable as possible, 
 and shows great goodness of heart in the constant inquiries 
 she is making about my sister. Lady Lucy, and Mrs. Lock. 
 It seems a diversion of her own grief to employ her mind in 
 anxiety for that of those she most loves, and who were dearest 
 to her dear husband. 
 
 " The Duke of Leinster has supported himself with great 
 fortitude, though, with Lady Edward, he is often crying. Lady 
 Mary has also great command over herself ; Lady Emily less. 
 Dear Cecilia is, I trust, as well as can be expected. Tiiey 
 thought it right to break the business to her by very slow 
 degrees, which, I fear, rather tormented her with a vain hope ; 
 but, since she has known the worst, she is more quiet and com- 
 posed. In one way or other the effusions of grief must have 
 their vent, but after that one gets somehow recont-iled to 
 misery. Lady Charlotte Sturtt's fortitude has not forsaken 
 her strong mind, and, though much distressed, she employs her 
 whole time with Cecilia. 
 
 " Lady Henry, too happy to have got her husband back, is 
 totally occupied about him, I called there this morning, but 
 he was not composed enough to see me. Lady Henry told 
 me that he was very angry and violent ; that he had written 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 235 
 
 a warm letter to the lord lieutenant, and talked of publishing 
 
 accounts of the treatment his brother had received. One 
 
 knows Henry's good and warm heart enough to prepare for 
 
 his feelino's been thus excited bv having been so near a witness 
 
 of events which, in every light, convey such unpleasant thoughts. 
 
 But I trust that a litte calm reflection, and talking with his 
 
 friends, will convince him that his plans can do no good, but, 
 
 on the contrary, much harm now. Attacks will be retaliated, 
 
 and periiaps be attended with unpleasant circumstances ; and 
 
 now, I do think, the best friends to poor Edward's memory 
 
 must wish to have as little said of the past as possible. No 
 
 doubt some things might have been better : more humanity 
 
 and attention to him might have been shown, and would have 
 
 done them credit ; but some allowances are to be made for the 
 
 critical times, in which there were too many things to think 
 
 of to permit half to be done properly. The Duke of Leinster 
 
 is quite reasonable and right about keeping all discussions 
 
 down, and I trust we shall soon bring Henry to our opinions. 
 
 I have been promised that I shall see him before anybody 
 
 else, except his brother. 
 
 :{{ ^ H< * * 
 
 "The Duke of Leinster, Lord Holland, and myself, on 
 hearing a variety of reports, thought it right that something 
 should be published, and accordingly the enclosed was agreed 
 upon, and sent to the papers ; I hope you and my sister will 
 approve of it. Lady Henry, this morning, showed me a copy 
 of poor Edward's will. It was, I think, dated the 27th of 
 May. He makes Henry trustee, to pay off debts, and gives 
 the remainder to his wife for life, and then in equal shares 
 among his children ; failing of them, to his right heirs. 
 
 " You will see in the papers such news as we have about 
 Ireland ; it seems but bad ; but there are reports to-day, 
 though I believe not as yet confirmed, that the rebel camp at 
 Wexford has been carried with great slaughter ; and it is said 
 that the regiments are goinu-from hence. I hear from Charles 
 Lock, that you very prudently mean to stop at Coles-hill for 
 some days, and then come up by slow journeys to London. I 
 wished to wait here vour arrival, and after a few dav's rest, to 
 propose to you all to go to Goodwood, where you will have 
 good air, and a quiet you can never get in this town, which 
 seems to me quite necessary for all. But perhaps my sister 
 
236 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 may wish to wait in town, to attend Cecilia, or perhaps she 
 may trust her with her mother-in-law. 
 
 " I am most anxious that she and all of you should do 
 whatever may, on the whole, appear pleasanter to her. Good- 
 wood will hold you and my sister, Lady Sophia, Lady Lucy, 
 Miss Og'ilvie, Lady Edward and her children, and Lord and 
 Lady Henry. The Duke of Leinster must, of course, stay 
 with his wife, and Lady Charlotte Sturtt will be with her hus- 
 band ; but I can take all the rest, and more if necessary. 
 Don't let my sister fancy that it will be crowding, or distress- 
 ing me. Far otherwise, I assure you : it will give me real 
 pleasure to be of any use to you all on so melancholy an occa- 
 sion, and it is on such that the affections of near relations is 
 soothing to grief. I hope, too, that the quiet of Coventry 
 may be useful, for I expect nobody, and at all events should 
 have nobody else then. 
 
 " Lady Edward, to whom I have talked on this scheme, 
 seems rather inclined to go to Hamburgh, as soon as she has 
 seen my sister a little more composed. Lady Lucy quiet, and 
 Mrs. Lock brought to bed. She is very naturally suspicious, 
 and diso-usted with aff"airs in this countrv ; and although she 
 says that polities are the last thing she should think of, yet she 
 fancies she should be quieter at Hamburgh than in England. 
 I wish her to do exactly what her own inclination may lead 
 her to, for I have no other wish than to see her as comfortable 
 as her misfortunes will permit ; and it will be no inconvenience 
 whatever for me to have her remain some time at Goodwood. 
 My sister's wishes will determine me to press it or not ; as, 
 for my own part, I really should feel a particular pleasure in 
 showing this mark of attention to poor Edward's memory.* 
 
 * Lady Fitzgerald was first known as the cherished pupil, if not the 
 adopted child of Madame de Genlis, and beyond that, little was ascer- 
 tained of her connexions or her birth. About the year 1782, the Duke 
 of Orleans committed the education of his children to Madame de 
 Genlis, and she, anxious that they should become perfect in the living 
 languages, had taken into their service English and Italian female do- 
 mestics, and she moreover resolved on educating with these children 
 a young English girl of nearly their own age. The Duke de Chartres 
 was then in correspondence with a Mr. Forth, and requested him to 
 find out, and send over to France, a handsome little girl of from five 
 to six years of age. Mr. Forth immediately executed his commission, 
 and sent by his valet, a horse, together with the infant, and accom- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 23 Y 
 
 I have a county meeting at Lewes, on this day se'nnight, the 
 16th instant, which I wish to attend, and shall be gh\d if it 
 
 panied by a note in these words — " I have the honoiir to send to your 
 highness, the finest mare and the prettiest little girl in all England." 
 This infant was Pamela, afterwards Lady Edward Fitzgerald. Her 
 arrival at the Palais Royale, occasioned odd conjectures. She was, 
 however educated with the prince and princesses, as a companion and 
 a friend; she had the same masters, was taken equal care of, partook 
 in their sports, and her astonishing resemblance to the Duke's children 
 would have made her pass for their sister, were it not for her foreign 
 accent. While Pamela and the young princess were pursuing their 
 studies in the delightful retreat of Belle-Chasse, the Revolution broke 
 out. The Duke of Orleans and his two sons, the Dukes of Chartres 
 and Montpensier, warmly espoused its principles. Madame de Genlis 
 was then an admirer of the Constituent Assembly, — Pamela partici- 
 pated in her enthusiasm for liberty, and every Sunday the members 
 of that Assembly met at Belle-Chasse. Barrere, Petion, and David, 
 were constantly at her soirees, and there, in the presence of these 
 young girls, seriously discussed the important questions of the day. 
 Pamela, abounding in beauty and every mental accomplishment, had 
 just reached her fifteenth year, and the Duke of Orleans had ordered 
 his notar}- to draw out a settlement of 1,500 livres a year upon her. 
 The notary declared that the orphan was not competent to receive 
 the anniiit}', unless she had a guardian. " Well, then," replied the 
 Duke, " let herself choose a guardian — enough of deputies come to 
 Belle-Chasse, so that she can have no difficulty in selecting one." On 
 the Sunday following, the Duke's answer was communicated to Pamela, 
 at a moment when the usual party had assembled. " I have not much 
 time to reflect." she said, " but if citizen Barrere would favour me by 
 becoming my guardian, I should make choice of him." Barrel e gladly 
 assented, and all the formalities of the contract were soon executed. 
 When the Constituent Assembly had terminated its glorious labours, 
 Madame de Genlis proceeded to England, with Mademoiselle D'Orleans 
 and Pamela, and attended by two deputies, Petion and Voidel. It 
 was then Lord Edward Fitzgerald saw Pamela. The brilliancy of her 
 beaut\% the graces of her mind, and the free expression of her feelings 
 of liberty, made a deep impression on the young Irish peer, and when 
 Madame de Genlis, alarmed at the turn things were taking in France, 
 retired with her pupils to Tournay, where the presence of Dumouriez 
 and of the Duke de Chartres assured them of a safe asylum, Lord 
 Fitzgerald accompanied them, and soon became the husband of Pannla. 
 After the loss of her husband, this poor lady experienced the heart 
 and hope-chilling effects of cooling regard and declining friendship. 
 She went on the Continent, and feeling herself neglected and embar- 
 rassed, she forgot her husband's memory, and formed an unhappy alli- 
 ance with an American, then established in France, of the name of Pit- 
 cairn, '' not the twentieth part the tithe of her precedent lord." One 
 of Lord Edward's grand children, a lad of fifteen or sixteen, bears the 
 
238 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 should so happen that my sister was to come to town before 
 Friday, on which day I wish to set out. But I would by no 
 means wish her to hurry in the least on that account ; only let 
 me know your plan, as near as you can, and I will endeavour 
 to accommodate mine to it as well as I can. If my sister 
 don't come so soon, I would go and come back again, and could 
 leave Lady Edward here with Henrietta, taking care first to 
 see the Duke of Portland, and obtain his approbation ; but I 
 believe that now they will let her do as she pleases, at least I 
 cannot see why they should not, especially as, from what I can 
 see, she behaves with the most strict propriety. Adieu, my 
 dear sir : assure my dear sister of my kindest and most affec- 
 tionate love, and tell all her daughters with you how sincerely 
 I sympathize in their sorrows. . 
 
 "Ever yours, most truly, 
 
 "KiCHMOND, &c." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO THE HONOURABLE JOHX LEESOX.* 
 
 " Castletown, June 13th, 17 98. 
 "dear sir, 
 
 "I received both your letters, and acquainted the lord 
 lieutenant with the neglect in Mr. Cook's office, as I thought 
 
 most striking resemblance to him, and all the amiable qualities of that 
 most noble-hearted being, his daughter, the mother of tlie boy I 
 allude to, seems to have inherited. In the year 1820, I saw Ladv Ed- 
 ward at Toulouse, where she was then living, (apart, I believe, from 
 her second husband,) in a very retired manner, and, it seemed to me, 
 in restricted circumstances. She died in the latter part of Xovember, 
 1831, in very inditierent circumstances, in retired lodgings, in the Rue 
 Richepanse, at Paris. By her second marriage she had a daughter, 
 who was mani- d in Xew York, and living there at the period of my 
 first visit to tim: place, in 1835. — Jladdens United Irishmen. 
 
 * On the back of this letter is the following memorandum, in the 
 handwriting of Lord Henry : — " From Lady Louisa Conolly — in con- 
 sequence of a complaint made to her, of the indecent neglect in Mr. 
 Cooke's office, b}- Mr. Leeson, A guard was to have attended at New- 
 gate, the night of my poor brother's burial, in order to provide against 
 all interruplion from the different guards and patrols in the streets : — 
 it never arrived, which caused the funeral to be several times stopped 
 in its way, so that the burial did not take place till hear two in the 
 morning, and the people attending obliged to stay in the church until 
 a pass could be procured to enlarge them." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 239 
 
 it riglit that he should know it, to prevent mischief for the fa- 
 ture on such occasions, Tne grief 1 have been in, and still do 
 feel, is so much above any other sensation, that the want of 
 respect to my feelings on that melancholy procession was not 
 worth any notice. 1 should have answered your second letter, 
 but that I expected from it to have the pleasure of seeing you 
 here yesterday. The enclosed letter to General Wilford 
 (which 1 have left open for you to read) was to have gone to 
 Kildare by a servant of Mr. Conolly's, five days ago. But 
 as he changed his mind about sending there, I send it now to 
 you, and am, " Dear sir, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 '' L. O'COXOLLY. 
 FROM LADY SARAH XAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 " Castletown, June 27 th, 1798. 
 
 *' It is impossible, my dearest brother, to find expressions 
 suitable to the extraordinary sensations occasioned by the 
 uncommon events that daily lill my thoughts, — a succession of 
 anxious doubts, fears, anger, grief, indignation. Public cala- 
 mities touching each person individually ; private concerns 
 awakening all one's feeling ; the calls of honour, duty, mixed 
 with pity and deep concern for the fate of thousands, — all to- 
 gether form such a chaos, that, with double joy, I catch at 
 those few pleasing ideas that come along with sorrow. Your 
 generous, tender, and noble conduct towards all our afflicted 
 family, but in particular to Lady Edward, has made an im- 
 pression on my mind of the most consoling nature. It brings 
 forth all those qualities your good heart possessed into their 
 full lustre, and they not only act as a balm to many a wounded 
 heart at -this juncture, but secure to yourself those happiest, 
 best of feelings, which no power on earth can rob you of, — -that 
 inward blessing of self-approbation that will make your days 
 calm and content amid all these storms. 
 
 " I have hitherto only heard a general exclamation of grati- 
 tude from the family, — the Duke of Leinster in particular, — and 
 that Lady Edward was actually gone to Goodwood, from which 
 I augur so much good to her health and spirits and feelings, 
 that I trust the time is not far off before you will be rewarded 
 by success in your generous solicitude to comfort the afflicted. 
 
240 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 And wlien you know her, my dear brother, I will venture to 
 assert you will not tliiuk your pains bestowed on an unworthy 
 or . ungrateful object. She is a character, but it is noble, 
 elevated, o^reat, and not easilv understood bv those who level 
 all down to common worldly rules. According to the observa- 
 tions you must have made, in reading and experience of cha- 
 racters, you will find hers susceptible of all that belongs to a 
 superior one. Uneven in strength of body and mind, she rises 
 or sinks suddenly with illness and with affections. She 
 launches out into almost ravings from her lively imagination, — 
 sees things in too strong lights,^ — cannot bear violent checks, 
 but is soothed into reason by tenderness with ease. I know 
 no human being more formed by your tender, patient perse- 
 verance to bring her poor distracted mind to composure ; and 
 your talents for cheerfully occupying her thoughts will, I doubt 
 not, chime in with her natural youthful vivacity so well, as to 
 give you full powers of consolation over her mind in due time. 
 
 " Alas ! would I could think your success as sure with our 
 dear, dear sister ; — how different must your system be with 
 her ! Yet, even in that task, I know nobody, next to Louisa., 
 so fit to undertake it, or so likely to succeed. Your affection- 
 ate manner to my sister will have all the weight which nature 
 gives, and, added to that, the pleasing powers of unexpected 
 tenderness; — for, although she knows you love her, yet she has 
 not been so much in the habit of receiving such unequivocal 
 proofs of your kindness, as her grief now produces in your 
 most unwearied attention to her and all hers. I am sure she 
 will feel all these sentiments, because I anticipate them in my 
 own mind as hers, and feel a comfort in the contemplation of 
 what hers must be. 
 
 " I thank God and you for the least gleam of sunshine to 
 my beloved sister : she is my first object ; but how many, 
 many more wander round my imagination like ghosts ! The 
 poor Duke of Leinster — how my heart bleeds for him ! I am 
 even now interrupted by the sad tidings of his last and still 
 deeper misfortune being just at hand.* God grant him forti- 
 tude. He has great feeling, little energy, and an accumulation 
 of distress beyond the common lot of man. His lost brother, 
 and the entire ruin of his fortune (perhaps for ever), are the 
 
 * The death of the Dutchess. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 241 
 
 preliminaries to his sorrows : deeply will he feel the loss. No 
 mortal can pity him more than you, for his dear wife's attach- 
 ment was of that nature never to be forgotten ; she was his 
 ■friend, his counsellor, with an uncommon share of sense, and 
 warmth of heart in all that concerned him, that made her the 
 haven to which he looked in all distresses ; she soothed and 
 calmed his griefs, pointed out remedies, and, by occupying him 
 in his tender care of her sorrows, made him forget his own. 
 He will now sink, I fear, into a depth of affliction from which 
 additional ruin will start up. The only chance he has, would 
 be what his nature, I much fear, can never be roused to under- 
 take, — the immediate arrangement of business. The county 
 of Kildare, in which is all his property, is almost desolate, 
 and growing worse every day. The peculiar marked object 
 has been to ruin his tenants, and the insurgents will now finish 
 it ; for although personal attachment to him makes them very 
 anxious to avoid it, yet necessity forces them to take what they 
 can get. The cruel hardship put on his tenants, preferably to 
 all others, has driven them to despair, and they join the insur- 
 gents, saying, ' It's better to die with a pike in my hand than 
 be shot like a dog at my work, or see my children faint for 
 want of food before my eyes •/ from hence you may guess he 
 will get no rents. 
 
 " Private distresses divert one's thoughts from public evil, 
 yet you see how it brings one back to it on every occasion. 
 A servant is waiting for this letter : I therefore will only add 
 some slight account of our situation, in case you do not hear 
 of it from others. The victory, as it is called, in Wexford, 
 has only secured the town, and killed five thousand, — a lament- 
 able victory ; yet, if it tends to save more lives, it is success ; 
 but how far it does do that, no mortal can yet decide. They 
 say (for I assert nothing) that there were thirty thousand 
 there ; — call it twenty, then fifteen thousand have escaped, 
 and are now, as I to-day hear from Celbridge (where I fear 
 our intelligence is too good), at Timahor, a hill that forms a 
 kind of peninsula in this end of the Bog of Allen. We knew 
 of many thousands between Timahor and Celbridge for this 
 month past ; for Colonel jSTapier has, by his personal atten- 
 tion, kept them off from Celbridge by odd means, too long to 
 explain, but which, being a ruse de guerre, which they did not 
 expect, has answered the purpose ; and as they waited for the 
 
242 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 event of Wexford, it could be done. But now I fancy it will 
 be the seat of the next insurrection ; it is nine miles from 
 hence, and all their outposts within three or five of Celbridge. 
 '• What Lord CornwaUis will do, I cannot say, but probably 
 he will make some military arrangement, and this camp at 
 Timahor a2:ain be routed. But what is more alarming]: is, that 
 in the south, and in the Queen's County, they start up, so 
 that our troops will never be sufficient to prevent insurrec- 
 tions : though, if well managed, I have no doubt they will 
 drive away the multitudes by a flying camp pursuing them in 
 time, and that it will never amount to a rebellion^ which the 
 Camden government have so imprudently called it. 
 
 ^ix ^t^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 " I hope some good will arise from * *'s disgrace ; indeed 
 it cannot fail, for there will be some system, and the violence 
 of the troops requires to be directed to useful exertions, and 
 not wasted on the innocent as well as the guilty. Dublin is 
 well guarded by a very fine body of yeomanry, but it is not 
 safe to move them. You send us no militia, which is natural 
 enough, and what are we to do ? The small bodies of army 
 quartered every where to stop passes towards the capital are 
 harassed to death by want of sleep, and by going about like 
 a young dog in a rabbit warren, here and there, flying from 
 spot to spot, and catching little or nothing ; for all those cal- 
 culations of hundreds which you see are commonly from six 
 to ten or twelve men killed, and four or five poor innocent 
 wretches shot at in the fields, and afterward bayoneted, to put 
 them out of pain ; — this a soldier told my sister. 
 
 " Adieu, my dearest brother : I will in general terms re- 
 quest our most affectionate love from hence to Goodwood inha- 
 bitants, and to yourself in particular. My husband gains 
 strength in proportion to fatigue and thinness, I think. I 
 hope it will not essentially hurt him : he made me come here 
 with my children, to clear our house for action, as it is the 
 first to fall on if they come this way ; and we expect them 
 every day. My dear sister is as usual much the better for the 
 constant employment of doing good, and much has she now 
 to exert that talent on. Mr. Conolly is at home, well guard- 
 ed, and wishing to do good, but knows not how. Adieu. 
 
 " Ever, most affectionately, 
 
 " Mv dearest brother, yours, 
 
 " S. N." 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 243 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Castletown, Jul}- 10th, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " I was most truly thankful to you for yours of the 10th 
 of June from Coleshill, and would have answered the business 
 part of it directly, had it been necessary ; but as dear Henry 
 is left sole executor to the will, and that he had a copy of it, 
 there was nothing left for me to do. You must also have 
 heard from him, that the dear remains were deposited by Mr 
 Bourne in St. Werburgh church, until the times would permit 
 of their being removed to the family vault at Kildare. I 
 ordered every thing upon that occasion that appeared to me 
 to be right, considering all the heart-breaking circumstances 
 belonging to that event ; and I was guided by the feelings 
 which I am persuaded our beloved angel would have had upon 
 the same occasion, had he been to direct for me, as it fell to 
 my lot to do for him. I well knew, that to run the smallest 
 risk of shedding one drop of blood, by any riot intervening 
 upon that mournful occasion, would be the thing of all others 
 that would vex him most ; and knowing also how much he 
 despised all outward show, I submitted to what I thought 
 prudence reciuired. The impertinence and neglect (in Mr. 
 Cook's office) of orders (notwithstanding Lord Castlereagh 
 had arranged every thing as I wished it), had nearly caused 
 what I had taken such pains to avoid. However, ha})pily, 
 nothing happened ; but I informed Lord Camden of the neg- 
 lect, for the sake of others, and to prevent mischief on other 
 occasions, where a similar neglect might have such bad conse- 
 quences. You may easily believe that my grief absorbed all 
 other feelings, and Mr. "^ * is too insignificant even to be 
 angry at. At any other time than this his impertinence might 
 amuse one, — but now it passes unnoticed. 
 
 " Mr. Stone is an officer belonging to our regiment. I have 
 never been able to see him since, though I long for that satis- 
 faction ; but previous to our dear angel's departure from this 
 life, Mr. Stone was forced to join his regiment, wliich has 
 been at Kilcullen ever since : and the last two davs he was 
 attended by a surgeon whose manner and appearance I liked. 
 But I shall never lose sight of Mr. Stone, or of being of all 
 the use I can to him for the friendship he showed my beloved 
 
244: MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Edward, — my beloved Edward, I may well say, for, indeed, 
 my dear Mr. Ogiivie, the sorrow I feel is beyond what I could 
 well have imagined, and I own to you that I do not grow 
 better. The compUeated scene of distress that involves our 
 family is perpetually before my eyes ; and that of my dearest 
 sister, whom I love so much better than myself, grieves my 
 heart. Your account of her was as good as I could expect, 
 and I hear that she bore the meeting at Goodwood without 
 any bad effect to her health. I long to hear of her again, 
 and beg, my dear Mr. Ogiivie, that you will write to me. I 
 won't write to her myself, because I really can't. It is so im- 
 possible to write on subjects that tear one's very heartstrings 
 asunder, and on no other, I am sure, could we write. Her 
 heart and mine are like one, from the affection we bear each 
 other ; and, therefore, she must be sensible of all that passes 
 in mine, without my undergoing the painful task of writing it. 
 But I wish greatly to hear of her ; therefore, pray write to 
 me, and tell me about the rest of the sad afflicted family. 
 
 " The poor Duke of Leinster and his dear girls go to ray 
 heart, — exclusive of my own regret for that most truly worthy 
 dear dutchess, whose mind I know to have been one of the 
 purest that ever mortal had, and fit for heaven. On her own 
 account I hardly know how to regret her, for the very misera- 
 ble state of her nerves, at all times, deprived her of enjoyment 
 here ; and her well-spent life, with the unceasing desire of do- 
 ing what was right, certainly always gave her an indifference 
 about living, that at times, I have thought, amounted to a 
 wish of its being at an end. But her loss to her family is irre- 
 parable ; for a better mother never existed, nor one who has 
 instilled better principles than she did into her children. The 
 three eldest I am convinced will never lose the good effects of 
 them, and the three youngest I trust will profit by their exam- 
 ple. I am going to town to see them — Ceciha has not been 
 well, but I hope there is no cause for alarm. The situation 
 of the country has separated us sadly, and it was thought 
 more advisable for them to stav at Leinster-house, where the 
 yeomanry corps keep guard, so that I believe they are in the 
 best possible place. I shall venture to persuade poor Bess to 
 come here for a week, as her spirits want help, for she is deeply 
 afflicted at the loss of her dear mother. 
 
 " I have been interrupted two or three times in the course 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 245 
 
 of writing my letter, and that not without agitation ; for 
 although I make it a rule to believe as little as possible all 
 that I hear, yet these histories of cruelty I cannot at all times 
 avoid, I confess candidly that I hear of them on both sides, 
 and they equally thrill me with horror ; but I am determined 
 to pm'sue, as long as I possibly can, the plan of standing my 
 ground ; for I really do not apprehend personal danger, but 
 suiferings. The miseries of the country pursue me day and 
 night, for I have at times most terrible dreams. Lord Corn- 
 walhs's coming at first raised me ; his character has always 
 been so good, and his own sentiments upon his arrival seemed 
 so calculated for restoring us to peace, that a cheering ray 
 pierced through the dreadful clouds that are hanging over us. 
 But alas ! I hear that our cabinet are all against him, — what 
 can he do ? and yet, if he leaves us, I am afraid we are un- 
 done. It is astonishing to see the veneration his name creates ; 
 and it is my firm belief that, if all sides would submit to him 
 as an arbitrator, he could still save us. What could be so 
 wise as trusting to an honest man, an experienced military 
 man,* and, above all an unprejudiced man, who cannot have 
 imbibed any of our misguided passions ? All the Irish neces- 
 sarily must be prejudiced at this moment ; suffering, as we all 
 do, from various causes, it becomes extremely difficult to steer 
 the little bark of reason, justice, and humanity, that yet re- 
 mains among us, through the ocean of fear, mistrust, treachery, 
 cruelty, and revenge : — to which catalogue I may add, an ex- 
 traordinary and unaccountable phrensy that seems to have in- 
 fluenced the lower class ; for not one in a hundred have an 
 idea what they are fighting for. However, that part of the 
 people would be in our favour, if ever we were restored to 
 peace ; for the same levity that brought them to this pitch 
 would make them forget it, when the thing was once over, 
 which, if originating from any fixed principle, would not be 
 the case. 
 
 "Our house is a perfect garrison, eighteen soldiers sleep in 
 
 * It was the opinion of Sir John Moore, whose sincere love of liberty 
 no one can doubt, that if ever there was a case in which the emphjj-- 
 ment of such an officer as dictator could be desired, it was that f)f the 
 state of Ireland, — one honest, strong, and uncompromising hand being 
 alone adequate, in his opinion, to the application of such remedies as 
 she requires. 
 
246 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 our saloon, and we are all blocked up and shut up, except by 
 the hall door, and one door to the kitchen-yard, and are fre- 
 quently ordered all into the house, upon the alarm being given 
 of the rebels being near Celbridge. Thank God, they have 
 never been in a body since the military company came into it, 
 or else there must have been some battle, wliich is the thinsr I 
 dread. Lord Cornvvallis would have a proclamation inviting 
 them to come in ; and although it has not been as decided as 
 I am sure he wished it to be, yet many are dailv comins; iu to 
 Mr. Conolly, begging protection, which you may imagine he 
 gives them with the greatest pleasure. I have opportunities 
 of conversing with these poor people, from whom I find that 
 many are forced into the rebellion, and of course are grievously 
 to be pitied. I verily believe that many of them are heartily 
 tired of it. My love to all at Goodwood. And pray tell me 
 something of my dearest brother, whose kindness I am sure, 
 does you all so much good. Adieu. 
 
 " Believe me aflfectionately yours, 
 
 " L. COXOLLY." 
 
 FROM THE DUTCHESS DOWAGER OF LEIXSTER TO LORD HENRY 
 
 FITZGERALD. 
 
 "GoodTvood, July IT, 1798, 
 Fatal Yeai"! 
 
 " We are neither of us in a state at present, my beloved 
 Henry, to touch on a subject so heart-rending and distracting 
 as all that has passed within these last three months of wretch- 
 edness ; but I am sure you will be glad to know from myself 
 that I am much better, thanks to Almighty God ! and in pro- 
 portion as I look around for comfort is the wish I feel of see- 
 ing you next week. • The Leinsters are asked to come ; but, 
 at that time, it would make too many. They will probably 
 not stay longer than a week, and then I hope to be blessed 
 with a sight of you. My brother has often asked why you 
 don't come ; and the dear little interesting Pamela, who must 
 ever be an object, dear, precious, and sacred to all our hearts, 
 has often expressed a desire of seeing you. Hitherto I have 
 dreaded its affecting you too much, but as I hope your mind 
 is more composed, you might perhaps be better able to bear 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 247 
 
 it. This you must judge of yourself, and when you Ciin come, 
 I hope you will. 
 
 " 1 wish for your advice and opinion in regard to dear Pa- 
 mela's future destination, as I know it will in great part be 
 determined by that which I give her, and I am really afraid 
 of recommending any particular plan to her for that very rea- 
 son ; but I think we could talk it over more comfortably toge- 
 ther. There is no need of hurry, for she is welcome I am 
 sure, to stay here as long as she likes ; my brother is extremely 
 fond of her, and enters into her situation with parental solici- 
 tude. Indeed it is one that must move all hearts, and claims 
 all our protection, tenderness, and attention. You, my dear 
 Henry, have been the chosen person for this duty ; but we are 
 all ready to share it with you. She seems at present much 
 undecided about going to Hamburgh : Mr. Matheuson's press- 
 ing letters, the cheapness of living, and being perhaps more 
 in the way of seeing those who might give her information as 
 to the small chance she may have of recovering her property, 
 are all inducements to go. On the other hand, she hates 
 leaving his family to whom she is naturally drawn by affection. 
 She hates the appearance as well as the reality of separating 
 herself from us, and wishes us to witness the propriety and 
 good sense with which she always has and always will guide 
 all her actions, and which the ill-nature that has prevailed 
 against her makes particularly necessary in her case than in 
 any other. She is a charming creature, and tlie more one is 
 acquainted with her real character, the more one esteems and 
 loves it ; — but, even were she not so, he adored her : he is 
 gone ! This is an indissoluble chain, that must ever bind her 
 to our hearts. But here let me stop, lest I break the resolu- 
 tion I made at the beginning of my letter. 
 
 " Mr. Leeson, I understand, has been with you, and you 
 may now have it in yoar power to know a little, whether she 
 has the power of making a choice as to her motions, for they 
 must greatly depend on money. We are too poor to give her 
 any assistance, and I believe it is pretty much the case with 
 the whole family, who at any other time would have done it 
 with pleasure ; but it is now quite out of the question, and, 
 therefore, to avoid expense must be her first object. This she 
 is very sensible of, and it throws her into irresolution, which 
 is always an unpleasant state, and oftener brought on by the 
 
248 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 want of money, I believe, with most people, than by any other 
 sort of distress whatever. It is very much ours at present, and 
 I have not the least guess where we shall be the remainder of 
 this year. I am sorry for others, but as to myself it is per- 
 fectly indifferent — all, all alike ! To see those I love pleased 
 is the only thing that ever can have the power of cheering 
 me. To that I am not insensible. 
 
 " Adieu, my dearest Henry : remember me most kindly to 
 your dear wife. I hope she is well, and will write often to the 
 girls accounts of you both, and of the dear boys. God bless 
 you all. " E. L." 
 
 " I enclose this to William, to save postage, as I understand 
 he is with you. Poor dear William ! give my love to him." 
 
 Though it would be impossible to adduce any more con- 
 vincing proof of the amiableness of Lord Edward's private 
 life than what the interest in his fate evinced throughout these 
 letters affords, it would be injustice not to cite also some of 
 those public tributes to his character which friends and ene- 
 mies of his political principles have alike concurred in pay- 
 
 ino' • 
 
 " I knew Fitzgerald but very little, but I honour and ven- 
 erate his character, which he has uniformly sustained, and, in 
 this last instance, illustrated. What miserable wretches by 
 his side are the gentry of Ireland ! I would rather be Fitz- 
 gerald as he is now, wounded in his dungeon, than Pitt at the 
 head of the British empire. What a noble fellow ! Of the 
 first family in Ireland, with an easy fortune, a beautiful wife, 
 and a family of lovely children, the certainty of a splendid 
 appointment under government, if he would condescend to 
 support their measures, he has devoted himself wholly to the 
 emancipation of his country, and sacrificed every thing to it, 
 even to his blood." — Diary of Theobald Wolfe Tone. 
 
 " As I suspected, the brave and unfortunate Fitzgerald was 
 meditating an attack on the capital, which was to have taken 
 place a few days after that on which he was arrested. He 
 is since dead, in prison ; his career is finished gloriously for 
 himself, and whatever be the events, his memory will live for 
 ever iu the heart of every honest Irishman." — Ibid. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 249 
 
 " Sir J. Parnell. Mr. Emmet, while voii and the execu- 
 Live were philosophizhig, Lord Edward Fitzgerald was arming 
 and disciplining the people. 
 
 " Emmet. Lord Edward was a military man, and if he 
 was doing so, he probably thought that was the way in which 
 he could be most useful to the country ; but I am sure, that 
 if those with whom he acted were convinced that the griev- 
 ances of the people were redressed, and that force was become 
 unnecessary, he would have been persuaded to drop all arming 
 and disciplining. 
 
 "■ Mr. J. C. Bcresford. I knew Lord Edward well, and 
 always found him very obstinate, 
 
 " Emmet. I knew Lord Edward right well, 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 dishonestly or unfairly 
 by him, he was as obstinate as a mule." — Report of Evidence 
 before tJie Secret Committee of the House of Commons. 
 
 " The Irish nation could not sustain a greater misfortune in 
 the person of any one individual, than befell it in the loss of 
 Fitzgerald at that critical moment. Even his enemies, and 
 he had none but those of his country, allowed him to possess 
 distinguished military talents. With these, with unquestioned 
 intrepidity, republicanism, and devotion to Ireland, with popu- 
 larity that gave him unbounded influence, and integrity that 
 made him worthy the highest trust, had he been present in 
 the Irish camp to organize discipline, and give to the valour 
 of his country a scientific direction, we should have seen the 
 slaves of monarchy fly before the republicans of Ireland, as 
 they did before the patriots of America. And if at last the 
 tears of his countrymen had been constrained to lament his 
 fate, they would have been received on the laurels of his 
 tomb." — Dr. MacNevin. 
 
 " If Lord Edward had been actuated, in political life, by 
 dishonourable ambition, he had only to cling to his great 
 family connexions and parliamentary influence. They unques- 
 tionably, would have advanced his fortunes and gratified his 
 desires. The voluntary sacrifices he made, and the magnani- 
 mous manner in which he devoted himself to the independence 
 of Ireland, are incontestable proofs of the purity of his soul." 
 —Ibid. 
 
250 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Lord Edward had served with reputation, in the nine- 
 teenth regiment, during a great part of the American war, 
 and on many occasions had displayed great valour and con- 
 siderable abilities as an officer. When in the armv, he was 
 considered as a man of honour and humanity, and was much 
 esteemed by his brother officers for his frankness, courage, and 
 good-nature — qualities which he was supposed to possess in a 
 very high degree." — Sir Richard Musgrave, History of the 
 Irish Rebellion. 
 
 " Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose name I never mention 
 without anxiety and grief, and of whom I wish to speak with 
 as much tenderness as possible." — Speech of the Attorney Gen- 
 eral (Toler) on Bond's l^ial. 
 
 " The allusion in the following passage of Mr. Curran's 
 speech, to the amiable character of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 will lose much of its force to those who have heard nothing 
 of that unfortunate nobleman except his fate. His private 
 excellencies were so conspicuous that the officer of the crown, 
 who moved for leave to bring in the bill of attainder, could 
 not refrain from bearing ample testimony to them : * His poli- 
 tical offences he could not mention without grief ; and were it 
 consistent with the principles of public justice, he would wish 
 that the recording angel should let fall a tear and wash them 
 out for ever.'" — Currants Life, by his Svn.^ 
 
 * The following eulogy, vivid and glowing as it is, and from one 
 whose sincerity was never doubted, ma}- be well added to the fore- 
 going. It is from the Memoirs of William Sampson, p. 327, 2d ed. 
 
 " iiut e'er we light, go call at E<i\vard's tomb, cry in his ears, bid 
 him who sleeps to wake, bid him to rise and fight his enemies. Brave 
 as the lion, gentler than the lamb, the sparkling jewel of an ancient 
 house, the nobl»:'St blood of any in our land ran through his veins. 
 He hears you not ; he sleeps to wake no more ! Of all his countr}'^, 
 and of all he owned, there rests no more to him than the cold grave 
 he lies in ! 
 
 " Oh gallant, gallant Edward, fallen in the flower of youth and 
 pride of manly beauty; had you lived to see your country free, the 
 proudest conqueror that wears a sword dared not invade it. 
 
 " Go call his children by their noble sire to come and fight the bat- 
 tles of their country. What sire ? what country ? They have no 
 father, for you murdered him! They have no country but the green 
 sod that rests upon his grave ! You robbed their guiltless infancy, 
 tainted their innocent blood, plundered their harmless cradles 1 " 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 251 
 
 To these high testimonials iti his lordship's favour, I cannot 
 resist the gratification of adding a, few words of my own ; 
 though conscious that the manner in which his frank, simple 
 character has unfolded itself before the reader of the fore- 
 going pages renders any further comment on it almost wholly 
 superfluous. Both of his mind and his heart, indeed, simplicity 
 may be said to have been the predominant feature, pervading 
 all his tastes, habits of thinking, affections, and pursuits ; and 
 it was in this simplicity, and the singleness of purpose result- 
 ing from it, that the main strength of his manly character lay. 
 Talents far more brilliant would, for want of the same clear- 
 ness and concentration, have afforded a far less efficient light. 
 It is Lord Bacon, I believe, who remarks that the minds of 
 some men resemble those ill-arranged mansions in which there 
 are numerous small chambers, l3ut no one spacious room. 
 With Lord Edward the very reverse was the case, — his mind 
 being, to the whole extent of its range, thrown open, without 
 either partitions or turnings, and a direct singleness, as well 
 of power as of aim, being the actuating principle of his under- 
 standing and his will. 
 
 It is evident 'that even a moderate portion of talent thus 
 earnestly and uudividedly brought to bear, must be capable of 
 effects far beyond the reach even of the most splendid genius, 
 when tempted, as it is too often, by the versatility of its own 
 powers, to deviate into mere display, and so to lose sight of 
 the end in the variety and prodigality of the means. 
 
 Another quality of mind which, both in action and in the 
 counsels connected with it, gave Lord Edward the advantage 
 over men far beyond him in intellectual resources was that dis- 
 interested and devoted courage, which, rendering self a mere 
 cipher in his calculations, took from peril all power to influence 
 his resolves, and left him free to pursue the right and the just, 
 unembarrassed by a single regard to the consequences. Xever, 
 indeed, was the noble devise of the ancient worthies of France, 
 '' Fais ce que je dois, advienne que pourra," more genuinely 
 exemplified than in his chivalrous character. 
 
 How much of self-will there was mixed up in his disposition 
 may be seen throughout the ordinary events of his life. 
 " Make Ogilvie remember," he savs in one of his letters, " how 
 obstinate I am when once I take a resolution." But in him 
 the tendency of this sort of character to settle into obstinacy 
 
252 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 was in a great degree counteracted, not only by the natural 
 gentleness of his disposition, but by a spirit of candour which, 
 as we have seen attested by his friend Emmet, rendered him 
 easily convincible by those on whose good sense and good in- 
 tentions he had reliance. The same candour and gentleness of 
 nature, — however singular such a mixture may appear, — con- 
 tinued to mingle with and influence his feelino;s even throue-h- 
 out that part of his career when it must have been most diffi- 
 cult to keep them clear of intolerance and bitterness ; nor, in 
 warring fiercely against principles which he thought ruinous 
 and odious, did he entertain towards the persons professing 
 them any of that rancorous spirit which is so rarely separable 
 from the excitement of such a strife. As one who acted by 
 his side throughout that conflict* says of him — " He was the 
 most tolerant of men : — he had no enmity to persons ;" and 
 the same authority adds, in all the warmth of friendly portrai- 
 ture, " I never saw in him, I will not say a vice, but a defect," 
 But while thus a natural sweetness and generosity of temper 
 counteracted in him those defects of obstinacy and intolerance 
 to which a degree of self-will such as he possessed almost 
 always leads, the great efficacy also of this quality in giving 
 decision to the character was no less manifested by the perse- 
 verance with which, through all the disappointments and re- 
 verses of his cause, he continued, as we have seen, not only to 
 stand by it firmly himself, but what, — despondingly as he 
 must often have felt, — was far more trying to set an example 
 of confidence in its ultimate success for the encouragement 
 of others. There was, it is true, in these very failures and 
 misfortunes a sufficient stimulus to a strong and generous 
 mind, like his, to call forth all its energies. Of such spirits 
 reverses are the true whet-stones, and, as has been well re- 
 marked, " None can feel themselves equal to the execution of 
 a great design who have not once witnessed, with firmness and 
 equanimity, its failure."f 
 
 * Arthur O'Connor. 
 
 f From the speech given as that of the Marquis de Bedemar to his 
 brother conspirators on an occasion resembling somewhat the situation 
 of the United Irishmen in 1797, — when the fleet of the Viceroy of 
 Kaples, Avhich was on its way to assist him, had been attacked by cor- 
 sairs, and disabled from coming : — " Les grands revers qui dans les 
 affaires communes doivent surprendre les esj)rit3 sont des aceidens na- 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 253 
 
 We have seen, accordingly, how unshrinking was the pati- 
 ence, how unabated the cheerfuhiess with which he was able 
 to persevere under the continued frustration of all his plans 
 and wishes. The disappointment, time after time, of his hopes 
 of foreign succour might, from the jealousy with which he 
 regarded such aid, have been easily surmounted by him, had 
 he but found a readiness on the part of his colleagues to sec- 
 ond him in an appeal to native strength. But, while the ele- 
 ments baffled all his projects from without, irresolution and 
 timid counsels robbed him of his chosen moment of action 
 \vithin ; till, at last, — confirmatory of all his own. warnings 
 as to the danger of delay, — came that treachery by which the 
 whole conspiracy was virtually broken up, their designs all laid 
 open, and himself left, a fugitive and a wanderer, to trust to the 
 precarious fidelity of persons trembling for their own safety, 
 and tempted by the successful perfidy of others, — with hardly 
 one of those colleagues remaining by his side on whose saga- 
 city he could rely for help through his difficulties. 
 
 Still, as we have seen, he persevered, not only firmly but 
 cheerfully, conceiving his responsibility to the cause to be but 
 increased by the defection or loss of its other defenders. After 
 the appearance of the proclamation against him, some of his 
 friends, seeing the imminent peril of his position, had provided 
 some trusty boatmen (like those through whose means Ham- 
 ilton Rowan had escaped), who undertook to convey him 
 safely to the coast of France. But Lord Edward would not 
 hear of it ; — his part was already taken. Submitting with 
 heroic good-humour to a series of stratagems, disguises, and 
 escapes, far more formidable to a frank spirit like his than 
 the most decided danger, he reserved himself calmly for the 
 great struggle to which his life was pledged and w^hieh he had 
 now to encounter, weakened, but not dismayed, — " animatus 
 melius (as Cicero says of another brave champion of a des- 
 perate cause) quam paratus." 
 
 While such were the stronger and, as they may be called, 
 pubUc features of his character, of the attaching nature of his 
 social qualities there exist so many memorials and proofs, both 
 
 tiirels aux entreprises extraordinaires. lis sont la seule epreuve de 
 la force de Tame, et on ne peut se croire capable d'uu grand desseia 
 que quaad on I'a vu uae fois renverse avec tranquillite et Constance," 
 
254 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 in the records of his life and, still more convincingly, in those 
 bursts of sympathy and sorrow which his last melancholy mo- 
 ments called forth, that to expatiate any further on the topic 
 would be superfluous. As son, friend, lover, husband, and fa- 
 ther, he may be said to have combined all that most adorns 
 and endears such ties. Limited as was his income, he could 
 at all times find the means to be generous, the simplicity of 
 his own habits enabling him to be liberal to others ; — " he 
 avoided," says the friend already quoted, " every expense for 
 himself ; for others his generosity was bounded only by the 
 means to satisfy it." By his servants he was idolized ; — 
 " there was not one of us (said an honest old groom of his to 
 me) that would not gladly have laid down life for him." Poor 
 Tony, of whose fate the reader must be desirous to know some- 
 thing, never held up his head after his noble master's death, 
 and verv soon followed him. 
 
 Besides that charm which the most perfect good-nature 
 threw around all that he said and did, he had likewise in his 
 conversation a vein of natural pleasantry, which was the more 
 amusing from its making no pretensions to amuse, and which, 
 from his great power of self-possession, he was able to preserve 
 in situations where few people could atford to be playful. Of 
 this Ave have a characteristic instance in what Lady Sarah 
 Xapier mentions him to have said, on an occasion of no less 
 danger to himself than the arrest of his friend Mr, O'Connor 
 at Maidstone.* 
 
 Among those traits of character which adorned him as a 
 member of social life, there is one which, on every account, is 
 far too important not to be brought prominently forward in 
 any professed picture of him, and this was the strong and pure 
 sense which he entertained of religion. So much is it the cus- 
 tom of those who would bring discredit upon freedom of 
 thought in politics, to represent it as connected invariably with 
 lax opinions upon religion, that it is of no small importance to 
 be able to refer to two such instances as Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald and the younger Emmet, — in both of whom the freest 
 range of what are called revolutionary principles was com- 
 bined with a warm and steady belief in the doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity, 
 
 Thus far the task of rendering justice to the fine qualities of 
 * See her Ladyship's Diary, p. 20. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 255 
 
 this noble person has been safe and easy, — the voice of political 
 enemies, no less than of friends, concurring cordially in the 
 tribute. In coming to consider, however, some of the uses to 
 which these high qualities were applied by hira, and more par- 
 ticularly the great object to which in the latter years of his 
 life he devoted all their energies, a far different tone of temper 
 and opinion is to be counted on ; nor are we, even yet, per- 
 haps, at a sufficient distance from the vortex of that struggle 
 to have either the courage or the impartiality requisite towards 
 judging fairly of the actors in it. 
 
 Of the right of the oppressed to resist, few, in these days, 
 would venture to express a doubt, — the monstrous doctrine of 
 passive obedience having long since fallen into disrepute. To 
 be able to fix, however, with any precision-, the point at which 
 obedience may cease, and resistance to the undue stretches of 
 authority begin, is a difficulty which must for ever leave vague 
 and undirected the application of the principle ; — a vagueness 
 of which the habitual favourers of power adroitly take advan- 
 tage, and while they concede the right of resistance as a 
 general proposition, hold themselves free to object to every 
 particular instance of it. 
 
 How far the case of Ireland against her government, as it 
 stood in 1798, comes under that description which most writers 
 on political science consider as justifying a people in rising 
 against their rulers, must be left to the readers of her previ- 
 ous history to decide for themselves, according to the views 
 they respectively take of the boundaries within which human 
 patience ought to limit its endurance. One of the most an- 
 cient, as well as most able expounders of the mutual relations 
 between rulers and their subjects, in speaking of the functions 
 for which a people are qualified, says, — " The safety of every 
 free government requires that the major part of the citizens 
 should enjoy a certain weight in the administration. If this 
 does not take place, the majority will be dissatisfied, and where 
 the majority are dissatisfied, the government will soon be sub- 
 verted.* 
 
 Had the philosophic politician carried his supposition still 
 
 * Aristotle, Polit. lib. 3. cap. 1. " Ubi enim m\ilti ab honorc omni 
 atque digiiitate exeluduntur, ibi miiltos reperiri hostes Ripnblicoe iie- 
 cesse est: imo plenain talibus llempublicam ac penitus ditfertam esse." 
 Heinsii Peripli. 
 
256 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 farther, and contemplated the possibiUty of a system in which 
 the great majority of the people should not only be excluded 
 from all weight and voice in the administration, but should be 
 also disqualified by statute for the acquisition of property, in- 
 sulted as well as proscribed, for adherence to their faith, and, 
 in every walk of life, branded as serfs and outcasts, — what 
 duration would the;, sage's knowledge of human nature have 
 led him to assign to such a system ? 
 
 If in addition, too, to such a proscription of the great mass 
 of the people, he should be told that, even over the small, 
 patronized minority of its subjects, the government in question 
 would usurp a power, less glaring but as base, of which cor- 
 ruption was the life-blood and peculation the aliment, and to 
 support which, therefore, the interests and the rights of the 
 whole community were made a matter of open traffic between 
 their representatives and their rulers, — would he not have in- 
 dignantly applied to a system so monstrous, a system thus 
 availing itself of all the worst uses to which the sword and 
 the purse are made subservient by power,* his own strong lan- 
 guage, in speaking of the various causes of revolution : — " In 
 such hands authority itself becomes hateful ; and the feelings 
 of mankind conspire with their reason to destroy a govern- 
 ment pregnant only with mischief, deformed by peculation, and 
 disgraced by injustice."! 
 
 By such as view in this light the system against vrhich Lord 
 Edward raised the standard of revolt, the question as to the 
 justifiableness of his resistance will not be found difficult of 
 decision ; nor even amon": those who, while acknowledi^inii: the 
 extent of the evil, yet shrink from the desperate nature of the 
 remedy, will there be found many who, on comparing the 
 
 * Tlie whole course of the ruling party in Ireland, from 1782 to 
 1798, is thus strongly and truh' traced by Mr. Grattan : — "They op- 
 posed the restoration of the constitution of Ireland ; tliey afterward 
 endeavoured to betraj' and undermine it. The\' introduced a system 
 of corruption unknown in the annals of parliament. Having by such 
 proceedings lost the affection of the people of Ireland, they resorted to 
 a sytem of coercion to support a system of corruption, which they closed 
 by a system of torture, attendant on a conspiracy of which their criines 
 were the cause. — Letter to the Courier newspaper, Xoveinher, 1798. 
 
 f ^Y6pL^nvTuv Te Kai tuv ev ratg apxat^ nai -/.eovsKvovvTov. The trans- 
 lation, or rather very loose paraphrase of the whole passage, which 
 I have given above, is from Gillies, 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. . 25*1 
 
 manifold enormities of the aggressor with the long forborne 
 vengeance of the wronged, can feel a doubt as to lohich of the 
 two parties the blame of that alternative must rest with, or 
 hesitate to pronounce, as Mr. Grattan did deliberately in his 
 place in the Irish House of Commons* — " I think now, as I 
 thought then (1198), tliat the treason of the minister against 
 the liberties of the people was infinitely worse than the rebel- 
 lion of the people against the minister." 
 
 There are persons, it is true, the bias of whose thoughts and 
 feelings renders them incapable of considering the noble subject 
 of these pages in any other light than that of a rebel against 
 legitimate authority, and as such politically excluded from the 
 circle of their sympathies. But not so does the feeling of 
 mankind in general requite the generous martyrs of their com- 
 mon cause. Even wiiere contemporaries have been unjust, "j* 
 Time, the great vindicator of those who struggle for the right, 
 seldom fails to enforce a due atonement to their memories ; 
 and, while on those who so long resisted the just claims of the 
 Irish people lies the blame of whatever excesses they were ul- 
 timately driven to, the concession, late, but effectual, of those 
 measures of emancipation and reform which it was the first 
 object of Lord Edward and his brave associates to obtain, has 
 set a seal upon the general justice of their cause which no 
 power of courts or courtiers can ever do away. 
 
 It is plain, however, that, strong as may be the inherent 
 justice of any cause, without some clear and rationally 
 grounded probability of success, an appeal to arms in its be- 
 half can by no means be justified ; — the very interests of tire 
 great principle which is at issue demanding, as a moral duty, 
 from its defenders that they should not rashly expose them- 
 selves to the disgrace of failure, nor, by any burst of weak 
 violence, provoke a retaliation which may only add to the fet- 
 ters it is their purpose to break. With this sort of miscalcu- 
 lation, — adversely as all that depended upon chance turned 
 out for them, — the leaders of the Irish rebellion are by no 
 means to be charged. It was truly said by Lord Halifax that 
 
 * Debate on the Union, Feb. U, 1800. 
 
 f Few have the courage, Hke Lord Chatham, to put the matter in 
 its true light, even while the storm is raging, or say, as he did, in the 
 year 1777, — "Those whigs and freemen of America, whom you, my 
 lords, call rebels." 
 
258 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " there is more strength in union tlmn in numbers ; " and the 
 United Irishmen, in combining- both these sources of strength, 
 secured to themselv-es two of the surest elements of success.* 
 When, in addition to this, too, we take into account the ex- 
 pected aid from France, the many embarrassments in which 
 England was involved at that crisis, the disaffection of the 
 Irish militias, and the unprepared state of defence of the en- 
 tire country, it will be confessed not to have been over san- 
 guine in the chiefs of the Union to calculate upon a prepon- 
 derance of chances in their favour. 
 
 Even the rebellion that followed, mutilated as it was of 
 of native strength, and unassisted from without, yet presented 
 so formidable a front as to incline Sir John Moore to the 
 opinion that, had a French force at the same time shown 
 itself on the coast, the most serious, if not fatal consequences 
 must have ensued. As it was, the cost to the government of 
 no less than 20,000 livesf in putting down what was but a 
 partial movement of the Union, — the North, its head-quarters, 
 having scarcely stirred, — leaves awful room for conjecture as 
 to what might have been the result, had the whole organized 
 mass, under its first leaders, been set in motion. 
 
 Another point connected with, and, in some instances, in- 
 cluded in the question of resistance, is that of the allowable- 
 
 * How powerfully they were backed also by property will appear 
 from the following evidence of Dr. ^SlacXevin: — 
 
 " Mr. Alexander. — Altlioujjh talents and education are to be found 
 in the Union', yet there is no comparison, in point of property, be- 
 tween those who invited the French and those who brought in King 
 William. 
 
 " Dr. MacXevin. — Pardon me, sir. I know many who possess much 
 larger properties than did Lord Danby, who signed the invitation to 
 the Prince of Orange, or than did Lord Somers, who was the groat 
 champion of the Revolution. The property of the Union is immense; 
 but persons in a situation to be more easil\- watched were not required 
 to render themselves particularly conspicuous." 
 
 In Emmet's account of his own examination, too, we find, " I was 
 asked by many of the members whether there were many persons of 
 property in the Union. I answered that there was immense property 
 in it. They acknowledge there was great personal property in it, 
 but wished to know was there much landed property ; I answered 
 there was." 
 
 •j- The calculation of the loss on both sides makes it 20,000 on the' 
 part of the government, and 50,000 on that of the insurgents. 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 259 
 
 ness or expediency of calling in foreign aid, — a resource the 
 peril of which to national independence, in all cases, limits the 
 occasions where it can be at all jastitiably employed to a very 
 few. Where the will of a majority of the people is declared 
 in favour of a change, such aid will of course be unnecessary. 
 It is, therefore, in the very nature of things, the sort of ex- 
 pedient most likely to be resorted to by a small and desperate 
 minority, or sometimes even by individuals, who, as in the case 
 of Count Julian, the betrayer of Spain to the Moors, or Mac 
 Murohad, who first invited the English into Ireland, have been 
 able, in one reckless movement of revenge, to fix the yoke of 
 the stranger on their country's neck for ages. 
 
 That Lord Edward was well aware of the peril to which 
 even the purchased aid of France might expose his country's 
 independence has been shown sufficiently in the course of these 
 pages.* Soon after his junction with the United Irishmen, a 
 friend of his, who approved perfectly of their objects, but had 
 a strong objection to the intention of calling in foreign aid, 
 having expressed his opinions to this effect. Lord Edward an- 
 swered that, without such aid, it would be impossible for them 
 to accomplish their purpose. " This, then, only proves,'' re- 
 plied his friend (from whom I heard the anecdote), "that the 
 country is not yet ripe for the design, and that you are prema- 
 ture in your movements," 
 
 Applied to a country not dependent upon tlte power of an- 
 other, this argument would have been conclusive. In the 
 natural course of affairs, indeed, the whole question of resist- 
 ance, as well as of recourse to foreign succour, lies within a 
 very simple compass. Where the great bulk of the people 
 are disposed to change their government for a better, they 
 have not only the right to do so, but, being the majority, have 
 also the power. In this case, therefore, the intervention of 
 foreign assistance is unnecessary. It happens sometimes, how- 
 ever, that the right is not thus backed by the power, — as in 
 Ireland, at the time we are speaking of, and some years before 
 in America, where the malcontents, though strong on their own 
 land, yet constituted but a minority of the whole empire, and the 
 arm of the stranger from without, however hazardous the alli- 
 
 * "I believe, latterly. Lord Edward was rather afraid of invasion, 
 lest '\e French should conquer Irehind, and tlierefore urged on the 
 ■^ ■ 3Ction." — Jt^eilsofi's Evidence before the Secret Committee. 
 
260 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ance, presented one of their few chances of liberation from the 
 intruder within. In Ireland, as we have seen, this alternative 
 was adopted with reluctance and fear ; but so little did the 
 Americans hesitate in resorting to such aid that, in the first 
 public declaration of their independence of Great Britain 
 (May 15th, 1T76), the second sentence stated that "measures 
 were to be immediately taken for procuring the assistance of 
 foreign powers." The example of England in 1688, to which 
 the United Irishmen constantly referred, as a justification of 
 their own conduct in inviting foreign aid, was by no means a 
 case in point, and went to establish, indeed, a far more dan- 
 gerous precedent ; it being, in that instance, against a native 
 government that the aid of the foreigner was called in, and 
 not only by a minority of the nation, but that minority com- 
 posed chiefly of the aristocracy, — a class who assuredly have 
 not always shown themselves so worthy as on that occasion of 
 being the sole arbiters and disposers of a whole people's des- 
 tiny. 
 
 For the excesses, and, in more than one instance, cold- 
 blooded cruelties by which the rebellion that followed Lord 
 Edward's arrest was disgraced, neither he nor any of those 
 leaders who first directed its movements, and the spirit of 
 whose views and counsels had departed with themselves, are to 
 be considered at all responsible. In reference to a proclama- 
 tion of a sanguinary character found upon one of the Sheares's, 
 Mr. Emmet declared, in his examination before the Lords, that 
 he entirely " disapproved of it ; — that the old executive had 
 never meant to spill blood, but rather to retain men of a cer- 
 tain rank as hostages, and if they found them hostile to the 
 revolutionary government, to send them out of the country." 
 
 Even while present and in full activity, the authority of 
 these chiefs had not been able so to " turn and wind" the fiery 
 spirit they had excited as to prevent it from breaking out into 
 violences the most abhorrent to their own natures ; and the 
 charge brought against Lord Edward and his friends of having 
 connived at, if not encouraged, the circulation of an infamous 
 paper called " the Union Star," the professed object of which 
 was to point out victims for the assassin's dagger, was, by that 
 class of partisans who believe any thing of an enemy, re- 
 ceived with ready credence. In a similar manner, we know, 
 the schemes of the underlings in the Rye-house plot were 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 261 
 
 assumed as matter of real charge and odium against their 
 principals. But the same justice which repels from the me- 
 mories of such men as Lord Russell and Sydney any suspicion 
 of having sanctioned the cowardly crime of assassination, will 
 reject, with no less indignant promptness, any such aspersion 
 on the name of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 Of the natural endowments and dispositions of his lordship 
 little more remains to be said. His acquisitions from educa- 
 tion or study were, as may be concluded from the active tenor 
 of his life, not very extensive : but he had a retentiveness of 
 memory which, in some degree, supplied the place of study, by 
 enabling him to treasure up with selection and accuracy what- 
 ever he heard in conversation. In thus arriving, too, at the 
 contents of books through other men's minds, he became ac- 
 quainted at once both with the men and the books, instead of 
 studying in his closet only the latter. While this faculty was 
 of such advantage to him as a man of the world, he had a 
 quickness of eye no less remarkable and useful to him in his 
 profession as a soldier. The most hasty glance, in passing 
 through a tract of country, was sufficient, it is said, to put 
 him in possession of all its bearings and military positions : 
 not a ridge or a stream escaped him as he went, and he could 
 have mapped it all, immediately after, with the utmost accuracy. 
 
 By these latter remarks we are led naturally to a considera- 
 tion of his lordship's military character, — a point of view in 
 which he will be found to stand pre-eminent, as, in addition to 
 his great courage and early experience, he appears also, from 
 the report of persons who were acquainted with his opinions, 
 to have taken enlarged and original views of his art, and to 
 have anticipated some of those lights on military subjects which 
 the bolder spirit of modern warfare has, since his time, elicited. 
 
 It will be recollected that immediately after he had joined 
 the United Irishmen, their system of organization, which had 
 before been purely civil, was converted, with scarcely any other 
 change than that of the titles of the officers, into a most effi- 
 cient system of military force ; and it is a proof of the skill 
 and foresight with which this mode of organization had been 
 devised, that not only did it thus easily admit of being turned 
 into a compact national armament, but that, from the sound 
 principles of representation on which the whole scheme was 
 constructed, and the facility it afforded of transmitting the will 
 
262 -MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of the executive to the people, it presented ready made, wlien 
 wanted, — in the event of their struii'O'le succeedinu", — the com- 
 plete frameAvork of a provisional, if not of a permanent gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 In training the people to arms, it was the opinion of Lord 
 Edward, that till they had been perfected in that first rudi- 
 ment of soldiership, marching, or, in other words, moving 
 through equal spaces in equal times, — till they had been also 
 brought to a sufficient degree of celerity and precision in form- 
 ing from column to line, and from line to column, and in ex- 
 ecuting these changes of position by dispersion and reforma- 
 tion, it w^as altogether premature to think of placing arms in 
 their hands. So far was he, indeed, from being impatient to 
 see the people armed, that, for this, as well as other reasons, 
 his utmost efforts were directed to repress that habit so long- 
 prevalent among the lower orders of Irish of providing them- 
 selves with weapons by the plunder of gentlemen's houses ; 
 his constant observation being that " till the arms were 
 wanted, they would be safest and best taken care of in the 
 hands of their present owners." 
 
 Even for the purpose of training troops to be good marksmen, 
 he had a notion, it seems, that firearms might be dispensed 
 wdth, and the expense of the ammunition which target-practice 
 requires be saved. Having observed, while in America, that 
 the Indians, who are almost all expert marksmen, have at- 
 tained this accuracy of aim by the use of the bow and arrow 
 while young, he was of opinion that, among the means of train- 
 ing a people to national warfare, the same economical mode 
 of practice might be adopted, — the habit of aiming at a mark 
 with any missile, whether bow or sling, being sure to establish 
 that sort of sympathy between the hand and eye w^hich ena- 
 bles the execution of the one to follow instantly the direction 
 of the other, and this precision of aim once acquired, being, 
 with little difficulty, transferable to the use of the musket or 
 rifle. 
 
 That Lord Edward may have thrown out this ingenious 
 suggestion in conversation can be easily believed ; but that 
 he had any serious notions of adopting it in his system of mili- 
 tary organization for Ireland appears somewhat questionable. 
 
 Another peculiarity of opinion attributed to him is that 
 of having preferred the rifle, as an arm of common use, to the 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 263 
 
 musket ; an opinion which is at variance, at least, with tlie 
 first military authority of our age, who has declared " que le 
 fusil est la meillure machine de guerre qui ait ete invente pur 
 les hommes ;* an opinion, of the sincerity of which there could 
 not be a better practical proof than that, in the whole Impe- 
 rial army, there was not a single rifle. Whatever may have 
 been Lord Edward's theory on the subject, it is certain that 
 there occurs no mention of this description of arms in any 
 of the returns made to the Irish executive by its officers, nor 
 does it appear in what manner the supply of them, counted 
 upon, it is alleged, by Lord Edward, was to be obtained. It 
 is, indeed, stated that a depot of such arms was, by his orders, 
 preparing at Brest, w^hich, when the proper time should arrive, 
 were to be run over in luggers, and landed ; but for this sup- 
 position I cannot find any satisfactory evidence. 
 
 Of his lordship's other views on military subjects, as con- 
 veyed in the conversations reported to me, I have not space 
 sufficient to enter into any details. But, on all the points con- 
 nected with the sort of warfiire he was about to engage in, — • 
 the advantages to be derived from the peculiarities, both moral 
 and physical, of the country ; from the equal diffusion of the 
 population over its whole surface, enabling every district to 
 produce its own army, and thus saving the expense and disor- 
 ganization of long marches ; — the account to which superiority 
 of numbers may be turned by the power they give of outflank- 
 ing the enemy, — the prudence of avoiding pitched battles, f — 
 the disadvantage of being the assailant in mountain war, j — 
 on all these, and other such tactical points, the mind of Lord 
 Edward seems to have been considerably in advance of his con- 
 temporaries, and to have anticipated much that a long 
 experience in warfare has taught to Europe since. 
 
 * Napoleon's Notes xipon Rognard's Art de Guerre. 
 
 •j- " In imitation of the Central Juntas, they call out for a battle and 
 early success. If I had the power, I would have prevented the 
 Spanish armies from attending to this call ; and, if I had, the cause 
 would now have been safe." — Duke of Wellingtoii s Letters to the Por- 
 tuguese Regency. 
 
 \ " The attacking party in mountain warfare will have the disad- 
 vantage." — Reveries du Marechal Saxe. In a similar manner, Colonel 
 Napier (without ever having, as he assures me, read Marechal Saxe) 
 savs, — " He who receives battle in the hills has ahvaj-s the advan- 
 tage." 
 
264 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 At the time of the search after him oq the 12th of March, 
 there was found in his writing-box, at Leinster-house, a paper, 
 which is generally supposed to have been the production of his 
 own pen, and with the insertion of which, therefore, I shall 
 conclude this part of my subject. 
 
 " If ever any unfortunate cause should put our city, with the 
 other parts of the country, into the possession of a cruel and 
 tyrannical enemy, whose government might, by repeated op- 
 pressions, drive us into the last stage of desperate resistance, 
 our conduct then should be regulated in a manner best calcu- 
 lated for obtaining victory. 
 
 " The following thoughts are humbly offered for the inspec- 
 tion of every real Irishman. 
 
 *' In such a case every man ought to consider how that army 
 could be attacked or repelled, and what advantage their dis- 
 cipline and numbers might give them in a populous city, acting 
 in concert with the adjoining counties. 
 
 " It is well known that an officer of any skill in his profes- 
 sion would be very cautious of bringing the best disciplined 
 troops into a large city in a state of insurrection, for the fol- 
 lowing reasons : 
 
 " His troops, by the breadth of the streets, are obliged to 
 have a very narrow front, and however numerous, only three 
 men deep can be brought into action, which in the widest of 
 our streets cannot 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 succession, 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 inconvenience might destroy the order of this 
 army. Perhaps at the same moment they may be dreadfully 
 galled from the house-tops, by showers of bricks, coping-stones, 
 &c., which may be at hand, — without imitating the women of 
 
LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 265 
 
 Paris, who carried the stones of the unpaved streets to the 
 windows and tops of the houses in their aprons.* 
 ' ** Another disadvantage on the part of the soldiers would 
 be, that, as they are regulated by the word of command, or 
 stroke of the drum, they must be left to their individual dis- 
 cretion, as such communications must be drowned in the noise 
 and clamour of a popular tumult. 
 
 " In the next place, that part of the populace who could not 
 get into the engagement, would be employed in unpaving the 
 streets, so as to impede the movements of horse or artillery ; and 
 in the avenues where the army were likely to pass, numbers 
 would be engaged forming barriers of hogsheads, carts, cars, 
 counters, doors, &c., the forcing of which barriers by the army 
 would be disputed, while like ones were forming at every 
 twenty or thirty yards, or any convenient distances the situa- 
 tion might require ; should such precautions be well observed, 
 the progress of an army through one street or over one bridge 
 would be very tedious, and attended with great loss, if it would 
 not be destroyed. At the same time the neighbouring coun- 
 ties might rise in a mass and dispose of the troops scattered 
 in their vicinity, and prevent a junction or a passage of any 
 army intended for the city ; they would tear up the roads and 
 barricade every convenient distance with trees, timber, imple- 
 ments of husbandry, &c., at the same time lining the hedges, 
 w^alls, ditches, and houses, with men armed with muskets, who 
 would keep up a well-directed fire. 
 
 '' However well exercised standing armies are supposed to 
 be, by frequent reviews, and sham battles, they are never pre- 
 pared for broken roads, or enclosed fields, in a country like ours, 
 covered with innumerable and continued intersections of ditches 
 and hedges, every one of which is an advantage to an irregu- 
 lar body, and may with advantage be disputed against an 
 army, as so many fortifications and entrenchments. 
 
 " The people in the city would have an advantage by being 
 armed with pikes or such weapons. The first attack if possi- 
 
 * " Tlie soldier, if posted in the streets of a town, -will be assailed 
 from the roofs and windows of the houses and lost. He cannot remain 
 there ; nor is he much better off, if in the squares surrounded by houses. 
 The examples of Warsaw, that of Ghent, and of Brussels in 1789, 
 sufficiently demonstrate the truth of what I advance." — Bulov;, Spirit 
 of Modern System of War. 
 
266 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ble should be made by men whose pikes were nine or ten feel 
 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 flank or extremity of every rank, there should 
 be intrepid men placed 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 wanting, 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 intimidate, 
 as closing on it makes its powder and ball useless : all its su- 
 periority is in fighting at a distance ; all its skill ceases, and 
 all its action must be suspended, when it once is within reach 
 of the pike. 
 
 " The reason of printing and writing this is to remind the 
 people of discussing military subjects." 
 
 On the 2'Ith of July, 1798, a bill was brought forward by 
 the attorney-general for the attainder of Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald, Cornelius Grogan, and Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey. 
 After a long discussion and examination of witnesses in both 
 houses, the bill passed the house of lords in the month of Sep- 
 tember, and received the royal assent in the October following. 
 
 From among the letters and documents in my possession 
 connected with the history of Lord Edward's attainder, I shall 
 select such as appear to me most generally interesting, and 
 throw them into the form of an Appendix for the conclusion 
 of this work. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 FROM COLONEL NAPIER TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Celbridge, July 28th, 1798. 
 
 " My dear Lord, 
 
 " I feel it incumbent on me to apprize you that Mr. Toler has 
 most humanely thought proper to move for leave to bring in a 
 bill of attainder for the purpose of confiscating the property of 
 your poor brother, as well as that of B. Harvey and Grogan Knox. 
 For his attempt on the estates of the two last there exists some 
 pretext, as they were tried and condemned by a court-martial ; 
 but this wanton posthumous malignity to Lord Edward is repug- 
 nant to every principle of law and equity, and diametrically op- 
 posite to the spirit of the constitution, which presumes every man 
 innocent until he has been fairly tried and convicted. However, 
 it accords well with the illiberal rapacity of the prevailing fac- 
 tion in this miserable country, which which will move hell and 
 earth to carry the measure into effect unless you succeed in dis- 
 appointing their inhuman avarice by a timely application to his 
 majesty, in any manner you judge most likely to prevail, 
 
 -Ir 7r vs- -X- -K- 
 
 " Lord Cornwallis's avowed predilection for humane and con- 
 ciliatory measures gives great offence to the Robespierres. Nei'os, 
 and Culigulas of this country, but is applauded by every prudent 
 man as well as every friend to humanity ; and I have strong 
 hopes he will succeed in tranquillizing the public mind, of which 
 desirable object (if it be obtained) he must have tlie sole merit, 
 as nobody can accuse his counsellors of being so weak as to sacri- 
 fice either personal interest or contemptible and indiscriminate 
 resentment to the softer sentiments of liberality and compassion. 
 
 '• Adieu, my dear lord. Present my respects to Lady Henry, 
 with Lady Sarah's love to you both, and believe me yours, most 
 sincerely, 
 
 " George Napier." 
 
268 APPENDIX. 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Goodwood, August 14, 1798. 
 
 " My dear Henry, 
 
 " As Mr. Ogilvie will, I believe, write to you pretty fully, and 
 the position of writint; hurts my stomach, 1 shall not trouble you 
 long to-day ; but I will, as shortly as I can, state my opinion 
 which is. that you, as trustee for the children, should instruct 
 counsel to oppose the bill, after presenting a petition to be heard 
 against it in their behalf; — that you should direct your counsel 
 not to attempt any defence, alleging that it is impossible to defend 
 a dead man against accusations of a personal nature, which he 
 alone is competent to controvert : but which, nevertheless, can- 
 not be admitted till proved, and cannot be proved now because 
 there is no possibility of hearing the accused in his own defence, 
 and, without hearing, no man can, in justice, be condemned or 
 convicted ; — that therefore, even supposing all Mr. Reynolds or 
 any other witness may swear to be true, it cannot be received as 
 such, or a^ sufficient to convict a man in a court of justice, unless 
 the accused has an opportunity of opposing that evidence by 
 other evidence ; and that he who knew Avhether he was guilty or 
 not being dead, and consequently incapable of defending himself, 
 no one else can : — that almost all the acts of attainder in the 
 statute-book are made against persons alive, who have fled from 
 justice, and give them a day to appear and defend themselves ; 
 if they do not, then their non-appearance is taken for admission, 
 and they are upon that adjudged guilty : but this calling on them 
 to appear proves the necessity of hearing them, or at least of 
 giving them an opportunity to be heard. 
 
 " Of persons who are dead being attained, there are few exam- 
 ples — 1 rather believe none since the Revolution ; and the only 
 one I can find before is, the attainder of Oliver Cromwell and the 
 regicides immediately after the restoration. That case will be 
 allowed to be a singular one, and the grounds on which it went 
 was the notoriety of their guilt ; and certainly no man would deny 
 but that it was notorious that Oliver Cromwell had usurped the 
 regal power, and that those who publicly sat in judgment on 
 Charles the First and condemned him had been concerned in his 
 death. But surely such notoriety is very diiferent from an overt 
 act consisting of private meetings, speeches, papers, commissions, 
 or receiving money to stir up a rebellion. These overt acts may 
 have taken place, but they are not matters of public notoriety 
 like that which alone was thou2;ht sufficient to found this single 
 ace of attainder against dead persons. The charges against Ed- 
 ward are. undoubtedly, of a very different description, and such 
 as are not known but by the evidence of one or two men, which 
 evidence he might possibly have disproved ; and, therefore, upon 
 
APPENDIX. 269 
 
 such ex parte allegations to attaint, not the man, but his innocent 
 children, must be the height of injustice. 
 
 '• On these grounds, I should advise your counsel to say that he 
 will not pretend to enter upon any defence, and thereby give a 
 countenance to such a proceeding ; but that he protests against it 
 as a measure contrary to the first principles of justice, i think 
 this will be far better than getting into a dispute about his being 
 more or less concerned ; in which Reynolds would swear what he 
 pleased, which could not be disproved. And besides, entering 
 into all this might involve Lady Edward, and raise a spirit against 
 them both. All this would be avoided by your counsel not at- 
 tempting any defence, but only protesting against the measure. 
 I am also clear that Lady Edward should barely petition on the 
 same grounds, and make no defence, and, above all, that her affi- 
 davit should not be produced. The protest of your counsel should 
 also be renewed when the bill comes on in the House of Lords. 
 Adieu, ever yours, 
 
 " Most sincerely and affectionately, 
 
 " Richmond, &c." 
 
 from colonel napier to george ponsonby, esq. 
 
 "Castletown, August 15, 1798. 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " As I understand there is much merit assumed by ministers 
 for their lenity in excepting Lord Robert Fitzgerald from the con- 
 sequences of their posthumous malignity to Lord Edward and his 
 unfortunate family, and that they attempt to deceive the world 
 by pretending that their humane condescension secures to Lord 
 Robert and his heirs the honours of the family, I trust you will 
 excuse my taking the liberty to suggest the case of Earl Kilmar- 
 nock to your contemplation, as somewhat in point on the present 
 occasion. He was tried, attainted, and beheaded during the life 
 of his aunt, the Countess of Errol, who, on her demise many 
 years subsequent to his execution, was succeeded in her title and 
 estate by his son. Lord Boyd, her grand-nephew ; and this hap- 
 pened without any renewal of the attainder^ or any interference 
 of the crown. 
 
 '' I shall make no apology for troubling you with this letter, 
 because an excuse Avould imply a doubt of the sincerity and zeal 
 with Avhich I have seen you adopt the cause of Lord Edward's 
 orphans, whose interest on this occasion is, in my humble opinion, 
 intimately blended with that of the Constitution, since the min- 
 isters themselves affirm, they are neither actuated ))y resentment 
 against the dead nor malevolence to the living. I theref(jre con- 
 ceive it a fair logical deduction to conclude, that the measure has 
 ' plus in capite quam in fronte promittit ! ' and having long ob- 
 
2t0 APPENDIX. 
 
 served the subsisting variance between these 'honourable men' 
 and the constitution, I can divine no other enemy to the object of 
 their unrelenting hostility. Our slight acquaintance scarcely 
 warrants the length of this letter, buc there are some subjects 
 which would make even a Spartan prolix. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, dear sir, 
 
 '• Yours, with much regard, 
 
 " Geo. Napier." 
 
 from lady sarah napier to the duke of richmond. 
 
 Castletown, August 26, 1798. 
 
 " My Dearest Brother, 
 
 " Yesterday an express came from Sligo to give notice that 
 three French frigates were on the coast ; and from an express 
 this moment received from JNIr. ConoUy, who is at Lord Ross's, 
 near Enniskillen. we learn that eisrhtecii hundred men are landed. 
 The troops of course, are all under orders for immediate move- 
 ments: the yeomanry ordered to do duty again. Lord Cornwal- 
 lis probably won't neglect all possible means of defence, and we 
 hope to look on this event as good news ; for where the governor 
 is an honei>L sincere, and able character, and the bulk of the peo- 
 ple sincerely against giving up the kingdom to France, surely it 
 is a good thing to show on one side, to republicans, how little 
 chance they have of success ; and on the other, to detestable 
 leeches of their country that icords and murders are not the way 
 to prove loyalty, but danger and real fighting. We shall now see 
 who is the true or the soi-distant friend of Ireland. 
 
 '• All things considered, it seems not to have given any sensible 
 person the least ahirm. and I trust will prove only a predatory 
 descent. I will write you word what bulletins say. for more we 
 are not likely to know ; and yet bulletins were so false in Lord 
 Camden's reign, that they were not to be depended on : but I trust 
 they will now wear the fashion of the times which Lord Corn- 
 wallis's plain dealing seems to give, for nothing ever was equal to 
 the efiect his clemency has had on all. Those who sincerely ap- 
 prove of it seem relieved from anxious misery ; those who affect 
 to approve do it with so bad a grace that it is quite ridiculous, 
 and many abuse him openly ; so that the Castle-yard is become a 
 medley of more truth than ever was heard in it for years past. 
 
 " I say nothing, my dearest brother, about our most interesting 
 subject of affliction : it is too heart-rending to enter on. But 
 what you would never suspect possible in persons who ought to 
 be so tenderly attached to my beloved sister,* no signs of feeling 
 accompany their conduct. She feels hurt and miserable, yet is try- 
 Lady Louisa Conollj. 
 
APPENDIX. 2Tl 
 
 ing to conquer her feelings not to' show them coolness. 0, my 
 dearest brother, she is not made for this world : her angelic mind 
 passes on them for indifference, and almost for approbation of 
 their conduct ; so little do iheij know her who ought to know her 
 well! 
 
 •• This whole week has been passed in accusing, judging, con- 
 demning, and ruining the characters and properties of poor Ed- 
 ward and his family ; and on Sunday Lord and Lady Castlereagh, 
 ]Mr. and Mrs. P., Mr. and Mrs. F. have made a party to come 
 and dine, and stay here, because Lord Hobart comes; so that all 
 Dublin will hear that the very people who passed the week in 
 plunging daggers in Louisa's heart hallow the seventh day by a 
 junket to her house ! Mrs. P. is indeed just landed from Eng- 
 land : and Mr. P., we have reason to believe, has avoided the 
 House of Commons as much as he could ; but Lady Castlereagh 
 and Mrs. French went to the House of Commons to hear their 
 intimate acquaintance^ Lady Edward, traduced and ruined : and the 
 nephew of their aunt, ]\Ir. French, spoke for the bill of attain- 
 der ; and Lord Castlereagh I firmly believe to be the diief mover 
 and pursuer of the prosecution against Lady Edward. But Louisa 
 thinks otherwise ; and, therefore, if you write, say nothing on 
 that subjet as coming from me, because my hatred to him vexes 
 her, and never opens her eyes at all ; therefore, having once done 
 my duty in putting her on her guard against a false heart, I have 
 done, and avoid giving her the least additional pain. Adieu, 
 dearest brother, " Ever yours, 
 
 " S. N." 
 
 FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 *« Castletown, 29th August, 1798. 
 
 " I have no news I can authenticate as coming from Lord Corn- 
 wallis. dearest brother : but from Dublin 1 find that the French 
 landed great stores, threw up works, and, on finding the rebellion 
 in a different stage from what they expected, are trying to get 
 off ; but it is believed they must be taken by land or by sea, as 
 such pains are taken to catch them. The reports of risings are 
 terribly manufactured by agitators on both sides, Orangemen and 
 rebels. Government, of course, keeps it down as much as pos- 
 silile ; so that you see, from the nature of such a critical landing, 
 one cannot expect to hear truth, and one must trust to one's own 
 ju<lgment on the reports. 
 
 '• From what we learn here, 1 think numbers are on the wing, 
 but dare not fly, because they still doubt the success, and becau.se 
 greater numbers by far plainly declare they will not stir from their 
 harvest-work, and that they will fight the French, who are only 
 come to rob them of the harvest. Besides this, there are, to my 
 
2t2 APPENDIX. 
 
 certain knowledge, a set of the worst rebels who have offered tho 
 officer of the city Cork militia quartered here to set off under his 
 command, and with his soldiers (famous anti-rebels, but not Orange- 
 men) to attack the French 3 and also, to my certain knowledge, 
 there is a banditti here who are trying to muster up a little corps 
 of robbers, who, at all events, will enrich themselves, and per- 
 haps appear under the name of United I. if the French succeed, 
 and by that means evade law. So now you have the pro and cou 
 in a small circle. 
 
 " I suspect the same sentiments are in the balance in ths 
 larger scale, and that Lord Cornwallis, by taking the field with 
 ten thousand men, has two objects : the first to secure the banks 
 of the Shannon, which form a barrier to all Connaught, and pre- 
 vent a junction of French and northern enemies ; secondly, if it 
 all melts away, he relies on his own conduct at the head of a 
 large army to impress the guilty with fear, and the doubtful with 
 confidence, in his government and his character. If I am right, 
 I hope we shall soon see the good effects of his government, not- 
 withstanding the dreadful villany with which every principle he 
 holds out seems to be counteracted in an underhand way. 
 
 " I will not enter on the subject of the attainder, as I have 
 hitherto been so careful not to mention what appears to me to ad- 
 mit of such deep researches before one can venture to assert any 
 thing on the subject ; but the newspaper and common accounts 
 I will transcribe. On a long and interesting debate, in which 
 Mr. Egan spoke finely, the third reading came on Monday, and 
 the votes 42 to 9. It is said, ' many people who would have 
 voted against the bill, seeing so large a majority, wont out : ' from 
 which it appears, that these persons (who certainly prove one 
 cannot serve God and Mammon), finding their interest in opposi- 
 tion to their conscience, left the field at the moment of conquest ; 
 for had they staid the division might have run equal ; and had 
 the vote been delayed one day, ]Mr. Conolly, just come up to 
 town yesterday, would have added one, and the Duke of Leinster, 
 expected to-day, would perhaps have influenced others. By a 
 near vote the question would have come into the House of Lords 
 
 with double strength for opposition • — but what then 1 Lord 
 
 has, with his usual weakness of character, been frightened out of 
 his zeal by the chancellor, I suppose, though I don't know more 
 than that he jiinches. 
 
 '• The chancellor, I suppose you heard, said, with his wonted 
 dictatorial style, that your queries were inadmissible ; * and, of 
 
 * The following are the queries here alluded to as having been submitted by the 
 Duke of Richmond to Lord Clare : — 
 
 " 1st. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws 
 of the land to institute a criminal proceeding against a man after his decease, 
 and to hear evidence against him when he cannot be heard iu his defence ? 
 
APPENDIX. 273 
 
 course, it required no very great spirit of prophecy, I think, to 
 be assured, as I was from the beginning, that ' to con,sult with 
 one's enemy how one is to beat him' was not a very probable 
 means of conquering." 
 
 FROM THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX TO LORD HENRY 
 
 FITZGERALD. 
 
 " My DEAR Henry, 
 
 " I have not written hitherto because I had nothing to suggest 
 to be done for our poor Edward's heirs, and partly because [ hwid 
 hoped, from an account in the newspaper (which I now find was 
 an erroneous one) that the business was dropped. 1 see a petition 
 has been presented from Lady Edward on ]>ehalf, as I suppose, of 
 her children as well as herself; but I cannot express the degree 
 to which I am astonished at not seeing any notice taken of this 
 abominable proceeding in any of the newspapers, who are con- 
 stantly praising Lord Cornwallis's clemency, at a time when a bill 
 is going on exceeding in injustice and tyranny all the past. 
 
 •• J do not know how poor Edward's property was disposed of, 
 nor whether his children inherit from him by will, by settlement, 
 or as heirs-at-law ; nor, perhaps, is this material, but 1 should like 
 to know. Dr. Brovra, of the College, who is the only attending 
 member of the Irish parliament that I am acquainted with, is, I 
 hear, in England ; but if you think it would be of any use that 
 the Ponsonbys should be written to, that may easily be done. My 
 opinion is, that nothing can be of any use unless it were a strong 
 representation to Lord Cornwallis. nor should I hope much even 
 from that : but my opinion still is, that the thing is too bad to be 
 possible, and yet, after all that has been done, this is. perhaps, a 
 foolish, and certainly a sanguine opinion. I know how the whole 
 of this subject affects you, but in the present moment it is im- 
 possible not to think upon it. 
 
 " Yours, ever affectionately, 
 
 " C. J. Fox. 
 
 " P. S. If the bill should pass the Irish parliament, I think 
 there should certainly be a petition to the king against it, in 
 which, I take for granted, the Duke of Richmond would con- 
 cur." 
 
 " 2cl. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws 
 of the land, upon such a proceeding, to adjudge a man guilty who has not been 
 convicted or tried while living ? 
 
 "3d. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws 
 of the land to make such a judgment the foundation of a further proceeding to 
 affect the property of his heirs ? ' •' 
 
2t4 APPENDIX, 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 " Castletown, September 2d, 1798. 
 
 " No news of any importance has yet reached us, my dearest 
 brother, but your own judgment must point out to you the doubt- 
 ful state of Ireland, wliicli entirely depends on the French land- 
 ing in suflBcient force to make it worth while for all U. 1. men to 
 join them; and even then it would, I trust, be more than they can 
 accomplish to surmount, the immense number of persons of com- 
 mon sense who dread a French government, and will, with sincere 
 zeal, join their efforts to give the army under Lord Cornwollis their 
 utmost help. Not so, had Lord Camden and Lord Carhampton 
 remained ; for no human being can bring themselves to depend 
 on the weak or ignorant, or on the false help they lend. It is 
 like the description of Egypt in the Bible : — • Trust not to Fgj'pt, 
 for like the broken reed she will bruise thy seed if thou rest upon 
 her.' So that we must consider the moment in which Lord Corn- 
 wallis was fixed on to come here as salvation to Ireland ] for the 
 balance turned instantly on his coming, and disposed the common 
 people to consider the change of government as an object within 
 their sphere. They told my sister and I, ' Sure this is a brave man 
 they've sint us now ; he holds the swoord of war and the swoord 
 of pore, and sure we may do as we like now.' 
 
 •■ This in two words shows you they consider him as a respect- 
 able being whom it is worth while to be cautious in attacking, 
 and Paddy is shrewd enough if he gives himself time to thiriJc. 
 Now as this landing is (hitherto) only 18U0 men at the most, and 
 called by government 7U0 only, Paddy has full leisure to think, 
 and does think, I promise you, on this occasion. For example, 
 about 200 stragglers have joined the French, who began by hang- 
 ing eight men for giving false information. Poor Faddy never 
 thought one was to be hanged for lying, and is wofully discom- 
 posed. Then the French put the rebels in front of the battle, 
 and this was not civil ; consequently, Paddy is all ears and 
 ej'es just now, but steadily at harvest, securing the main chance; 
 for if the French land in force, and gain battle after battle, then 
 it is time after harvest to join with their pockets full of money. 
 
 '• This, according to my own observation, is the general state of 
 mind of rebellious subjects ; and of good subjects one may easily 
 guess the state of anxiety, as so much depends on chance. We 
 do not yet hear of any other landing : and if they try, you know 
 there is, thank God ! many a chance in our favour both by sea 
 and land. In short to be frightened is folly ; to be anxious is na- 
 tural and unavoidable : for on private accounts one must feel 
 strong sensatiuns of fear about individuals now exposed to battle 
 
 any day against an active, brave, and clever enemy. 
 
 * 4t ' ^ » « 
 
APPENDIX. 275 
 
 " Lord Yelrerton has made a charming declaration on the sec- 
 ond reading of the bill of attainder in the House of Lords, which 
 bill has been tried to be hurried through with shameful haste, but 
 now, 1 trust, the protest will have an excellent protector. The 
 Duke of Leinster.* just arrived, safe and well — wretchedly low, 
 poor soul ! My dearest brother, how every thing gives me reason 
 to love you better and better every day ! Adieu, 
 
 " Believe me ever yours." 
 
 In a subsequent letter from the same lively pen, the fair writer 
 says, '■ I hope you Avill read all the debates on the attainder bill ; 
 and not wonder if the Irish parliament now tempts one to wish 
 for a union w'ith England, to mortify those lawgivers to their 
 country who have made so unjust a use of their power over their 
 countrymen." The declaration of the chief baron. Lord Yelver- 
 ton, referred to in the foregoing letter, was to the effect that he 
 "would oppose the bill as unjust, illegal, and inconsistent with 
 the gracious principle of mercy and lenience, which formed the 
 leading character of Lord Cornwallis"s administration.'' 
 
 In the course of the debates on the subject. Lord Clare said, 
 with considerable feeling, in referring to some circumstances con- 
 nected with Lord Edward's death, that " he well remembered 
 them, for a short time before the death took place he was witness 
 to one of the most painful and melancholy scenes he had ever ex- 
 perienced."' 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 " September 11, 1798. 
 
 " My Dear Brother, 
 ^' The bulletin,! which I cannot get, but which will be in the 
 
 * I avail myself of the mention here of this most amiable nobleman to say a 
 few words relative to his short secession from the whig party in 17S8, to which 
 somewhat too strong a character maj' seem to have been given in the first part 
 of this work. It appears from Hardy (Memoirs of Lord Charlemonl), who does but 
 justice to the character of the duke in describing him as •' proverbially liberal," 
 that not only his grace, but the greater number of the Irish whigs of that period, 
 were so far satisfied with the Marquis of Buckingham's administration, as during 
 the whole cf the session of 1788 to offer but little, if any, opposition to his gov- 
 ernment. -The charge, indeed," adds Hardy, '-against this opposition diflefed 
 totally from the general accusations preferred against tbem. They were not said 
 to endanger public tranquility, but they gave no unnecessary molestation to gov- 
 ernment, and were therefore guilty, according to some persons, of the most inex- 
 piable crime." The Duke of Leinster, it is true, was one of those who. by taking 
 office, gave a more decided sanction to the government ; but the general leaning 
 of his own pu'ty in the same direction took from his conduct on that occasion all 
 that in the remotest degree deserves the name of apos'.acy. 
 
 f The bulletin which gave an account of the surrender to General Lake, of Hum- 
 bert and his small army, at Ballinamuck. •■ It must ever remain," says Plowden, 
 " a humiliating reflection upon the lusire and power of the British arms, that bo 
 pitiful a detachment as that of eleven hundred French infantry should, in a king- 
 
276 APPENDIX. 
 
 papers, I suppose, will tell you all the particulars vre know, and 
 General Lake's panegyrics on every body will speak for them- 
 selves. * -H- -Sfr * 
 Your curiosity will naturally lead you to wish for information 
 relative to the minds of the Irish on this occasion. The little 
 information 1 can give you will lead you to judge for yourself. 
 In a letter from a very sensible, good man in the North, who heads 
 a yeomanry corps, are these words : — 
 
 " ' What 1 foretold in February has now taken place, — that dis- 
 tinction of religions would produce the worst evils. The live 
 corps of this garrison are equally divided in persuasions, and did 
 live in the most perfect cordiality till now, when within these few 
 days there has arisen dissensions almost coming to blows. The 
 cause of this change in the minds of the men is occasioned by 
 the pains taken by persons in ofl&cial departments to form Orange 
 lodges, which has had the most pernicious effects. My own opin- 
 ions have never changed ; but 1 wish to ask you a question, not 
 from mere idle curiosity, but to determine my own conduct. As 
 these lodges are formed by persons in of&cial departments, am [ 
 to consider them as sanctioned and approved of by government ? 
 for, though my own principles are the same as before, I should 
 be extremely sorry, at this critical period, to show any opposition 
 to a measure that government may consider as conducive to the 
 general good ;. and should it be against my principles, I shall re- 
 tire from the scene.' 
 
 '• This letter, dated September, proves that what Lord Cornwallis 
 positively asserted as his most anxious wishes in July is not at- 
 tended to by those in office out of his sight. The consequence of 
 a government that is undermining its governor you will know. 
 This renewal of ill blood will have its etfect in time, if not stop- 
 ped ; but, for the present, the North seems perfectly quiet, the 
 JSouth the same. In Leitrim, Longford, Westmeath, &c., the 
 risings were sudden, and as suddenly quelled, you see. Yet in 
 these very counties are numberless proofs of the attachment of 
 the tenants, who flocked to their landlords" houses to guard them, 
 and behaved with all possible merit, industrious, grateful, and 
 generous, — for they went and reaped the corn in great bodies, to save 
 it for their landlords. 
 
 •' In our neighbourhood, which I may well entitle the doubtfuls, 
 I can read my neighbours" thoughts in their eyes, in the tone of 
 their voices, their gait. — in short, on connoit son monde, with a 
 
 dom ia which there was an armed force of above 150,000 men, have not only put 
 to rout a select army of six thousand men prepared to resist the invaders, but 
 have also provided themselves with ordnance and ammunition from our stores, 
 taken several of our towns, marched 122 Irish (above 150 English) miles through 
 the country, and kept arms in their victorious hands for seventeen days in the 
 heart of an armed kingdom." 
 
APPENDIX. 27 1 
 
 very little observation. They are all ears, and distrust all they 
 hear. They watch to take the ton from Dublin, their constant 
 traffic with which makes intelligence come like lightning to them, 
 though not to us. They at first disbelieved the surrender of the 
 French ; they now believe it, and put a good face on it, still han- 
 kering after a chance of a new force which is Collecting in Wick- 
 low, under a clever man called Holt, who rejects mob, and chooses 
 his associates. This keeps up the flame ; and while it burns, all 
 those who persuade themselves that they acted on principle only, 
 and those who have gone too far to retreat, besides those whom 
 ill usage has worked up into revenge, all reluctantly give up 
 hopes of success. Yet their own judgments noiv have fair play-; 
 they see the lower order quite tired of the business ; they see a 
 vast number who loudly proclaim their determination to stick to 
 the promise they made to old General Dundas,* who is their hero ; 
 for not one of those he forgave has returned to the rebels. They 
 see the tide is against them; and, in short, I can perceive by 
 their countenances that they are low, and sorry, and fearful. 
 But if they once give the point up, they will return to all their 
 work with a heavy, but not a sulky, heart: for they are nearly 
 convinced they are conquered by/a^e, not hj force, and you must 
 know that all the common people are predestinarians, which is a 
 great cause of their hardy courage for moments, and their seem- 
 ing indiiference about death. They have very little shame about 
 running away, being convinced they are reserved for another fight 
 
 hj fate, and not by their running. * * 
 
 * * ***** 
 
 From all these circumstances, one may, I think, decide, that all 
 depends on there being no more landings ; for, if any succeed, 
 risings will follow of course. Yet, after all, we have such mil- 
 lions of chances now in our favour, that there is nothing to alarm 
 one ; since the United Irishmen, by their own confessions, seem 
 to have so very little head or plan, that no reasonable being could 
 for a moment depend on their government, even if they coidd con- 
 quer all Ireland ; so that the whole plan, whether of French, Irish, 
 Presbyterian, or Catholic extraction, seems dissolved into impos- 
 sibilitieS; and can no longer be a bugbear now, I think, by which 
 government can frighten the world into approbation of despotism. 
 Lord Cornwallis has undoubtedly saved this country from a still 
 more bloody war, which was to have been expected ; but the 
 United Irishmen themselves have proved they never could have 
 kept Ireland. 
 
 '' 1 ought to apologize for all my political and private accounts 
 of the state of the country, when you certainly must hear it from 
 
 * A compact entered into by General Dundas with the rebels in the county of Kil- 
 dare, for which he was much censured, but which, like erery step of conciliation 
 or justice towards the Irish, was productive of tlie best effects. 
 
2T8 APPENDIX. 
 
 much better judges and better authority; but when the whole 
 conversations of societies is turned on poHtical causes which im- 
 mediately concern every individual, one can scarce take up a pen 
 and steer clear of them. Indeed, there is but one other subject 
 that comes across us, and it is not pleasant to dwell on it, though 
 one part of it is so'gratifying to my very sincere affection for you, 
 my dearest brotiier, that 1 cannot refrain from expressing it. 
 From Mary I hear a thousand particulars of your goodness to 
 poor Lady Kdward. which 1 know the full value of. I can trace 
 your genei'ous attention to all her feelings : your spirited resist- 
 ance to the torrent that ran against her ; your protecting hand 
 that shielded her hopeless situation from the most aggravating 
 circumstances. You gently said in a letter to my sister, • she is 
 not popular.' I own I was struck with the expression, and won- 
 dered how you. who could hear nothing of her but through her 
 family, should have heard so (though it is true in Dublin) ; but I 
 now find from Mary, that the very common people had imbibed 
 prejudice against her. poor little soul, to a degree that is quite 
 horrible, yet a well-known characteristic of the English nation. 
 What is to become of her my dear brother ? I pity her from my 
 soul, for her elevated mind will suffer torture from the necessity 
 of being under obligations to many, and I fear no one individual 
 can, at this time, soften the bitter pangs of adverse fortune by 
 generously giving her, under the tender tie of affection, an income 
 equal to procuring her a comfortable situation. Pride has nothing 
 to do with affection. Obligations from those who know how to 
 grant them nobly become a pleasure to the receiver as long as he 
 perceives the giver is gratified by the gift ; but so very, very few 
 can and will be such givers, that 1 fear she will be subject to 
 all those feelings which poverty is most unjustly expected not to 
 Iiace. and which only belong to poverty; — feelings, the nature of 
 which induces one to examine, consider, and value the nature of 
 every gift. 
 
 '• \Vhen I reflect, as I often do, on poor Lady Edward's fate, I 
 cannot help comparing it to my own : and in proportion as my 
 own unworthiness of all the blessings I have had and the kindness 
 1 have received strikes my recollection, my warmest wishes arise 
 that she, whose misfortunes have arisen only from the strongest 
 attachment to her dear husband, may meet with the same protec- 
 tection from heaven, and on earth from friends, as I have done. 
 The former I am sure she will ; the latter is more doubtful, yet. I 
 hope, will not fail ; though circumstances alter the mind of man 
 so much one can never be sure. Yet surely, in this instance, the 
 world would wonder if the widow and orphans of a man adored 
 by his family are not pul)licly supported by that very family who 
 acknowledge her attachment to him. A stranger, an orphan her- 
 self, lovely in her appearance, great in her character, persecuted, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 219 
 
 ruined, and banished; her name so well known as to be brought 
 into the history of the country ; that Itistonj will of itself be the 
 test of the generosity of her family connexions or their disi,n-a4;e. 
 I wish those who should first step forward saw it in the hght I do, 
 which, exclusive of affection for her, is of importance, I think, to 
 the family. Adieu, my dear brother, ever most affectionately 
 yours, »->• ■'■^ • 
 
 Having passed the House of Lords, the bill of attainder was, at 
 the latter end of September, sent to England to receive the royal 
 assent ; and though there could be but httle hope at that stage of 
 arresting its progress, the friends of the femily were resolved to 
 make one more effort, and address a petition to the king. To Sir 
 Arthur Pigott the task of drawing up their appeal was intrusted ; 
 and it is with much pleasure 1 find myself enabled to lay this 
 document before my readers, as a composition more admirable 
 for its purpose, more precious as an example of the adroitness and 
 power with which rhetoric and logic may be made subservient to 
 each other, has rarely, perhaps, been written. 
 
 " TO THE king's MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY." 
 
 " The humble petition of Henry Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly 
 called Lord Henry Fitzgerald, Charles, Duke of Richmond, 
 William Ogilvie, Esq., Charles James Fox, Esq., Henry 
 Edward Fox, Esq., and Henry Richard, Lord Holland ; 
 For and on behalf of Edward Fitzgerald, an infant of the age of 
 four years, or thereabouts, only son and heir of Edward Fitzger- 
 ald, Esq., lately deceased, commonly called Lord Edward Fitzger- 
 ald ; and for and on behalf of Pamela Fitzgerald, an infant of the 
 age of tAvo years, or thereabouts, and of Lucy Fitzgerald, an infant 
 of the age of four months, or thereabouts, daughters of the said 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald ; and for and on behalf also of Pamela 
 Fitzgerald, widow of the said Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 
 '•' Showeth, 
 '•'That the said Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly called Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald, departed this life on or about the fourth day of 
 June last, being at the time of his death seised of some real estate, 
 situated in Ireland, and also possessed of some personal estate, 
 which by his death became vested in his said infant children as his 
 heir-at-law and sole next of kin, according to their respective 
 titles to the said real and personal estates, subject to the right 
 of his said widow to be endowed out of the real, and to receive 
 her share of the personal estate. 
 
 •• That the said Pamela Fitzgerald, the widow of the said Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald, is at present absent from this kingdom, on 
 
280 APPENDIX. 
 
 •which account alone, as your petitioners have reason to believe, 
 she is not in her own person a party to this petition. 
 
 '• That your majesty's petitioner, Henry Fitzgerald, is a guardian 
 of the persons and estates of the said infants, and that he and 
 your majesty's other petitioners are near relations of the said 
 infant children. 
 
 ••' That your petitioners have observed, with great concern, that 
 a bill has been passed by the parliament of Ireland, and trans- 
 mitted for your majesty's royal assent, for, among other purposes, 
 the attainder of the said Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly 
 called Lord Edward Fitzgerald^ under the title of ' A Bill for the 
 attainder of Edward Fitzgerald. Cornelius Grogan, and Beauchamp 
 Benegal Harvey, deceased, of high treason,' or some such title, 
 reciting, alleging, and assuming, as the cause and foundation of 
 the said bill, that the said Edward Fitzgerald did. durinsr the 
 period of his life, since the first day of November, 1797, commit 
 and perpetrate several acts of high treason, by conspiring toge- 
 ther with several false traitors to raise and stir up insurrection and 
 rebellion within this kingdom (Ireland), and by endeavuuring to 
 persuade the enemies of our lord the king to invade this his king- 
 dom of Ireland, and did, in pursuance of the said treason, commit 
 several overt acts with intent to depose and dethrone the king, 
 and subvert and overthrow the government of this his kin>rdom 
 of Ireland : and further reciting; that several other false traitors 
 who were concerned in the said treasons and rebellion have 
 already received their trials at law for the same, and have been 
 convicted, and, by judgment of law thereupon had, do now stand 
 dully and legally attainted : 
 
 '' The said bill therefore enacts (among other things), that the 
 said Edward Fitzgerald, commonly called Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 deceased, shall be adjudged to be convicted and attainted of high 
 treason to all intents and purposes, as if he had been attainted dur- 
 ing his Ife: 
 
 •'■ And further enacts (among other things), that all and every 
 the manors, messuages, lands, tenements, &c., and all other the 
 heredits. leases for years, chattels real, and other things of what 
 nature soever they be, of the said Edward Fitzgerald, which he 
 or any other person to his use or in trust for him had on the first 
 day of November, 1707, shall be forfeited to his majesty, and shall 
 be deemed to be in the actual seisin and possession of his majesty, 
 without any inquisition or ofl&ce taken or found : and that all and 
 every other the goods, and debts, and other the chattels, personal 
 whatsoever of the said Edward Fitzgerald, whereof upon the first 
 of March, 1798, he or any person in trust for him stood possesiied 
 either in law or equity, ^hall be deemed forfeit, and are vested in 
 his majesty, without any inquisition or office found. And several 
 provisions follow for declaring void all subsequent alienations and 
 
APPENDIX. 281 
 
 transfers whatsoever of the property of the said Edward Fitzger- 
 ald, and also all previous alienations and transfers except for 
 valuable consideration. 
 
 " Your petitioners conceive it to be their duty to the said infant 
 children and absent widow of the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
 humbly to represent to your majesty that the said bill is contrary 
 to the first and most sacred principles of law, of justice, and of 
 the constitution ; as it intends, by special and arbitrary provisions, 
 neither known to the law of Ireland nor analogous to any of its 
 just and wise maxims, to despoil the innocent family of the said 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald of that property which upon his death 
 vested in them, and which the law secures to them by the same 
 sanctions and protections under which all the rest of your ma- 
 jesty's subjects, both in England and Ireland, enjoy their lives, 
 liberties, and property. 
 
 '•The best security, sire, against the injustice, the passion, and 
 violence which frequently characterize the partial, occasional, 
 and arbitrary acts of power, wherever it is placed, is the observ- 
 ance of the steady course of general and equal law ; which, as 
 it ascertains the obligations, secures alike the rights of all, and 
 impartially applies its rules and maxims, through the medium of 
 its tribunals, to the actions of individuals. But whatever may 
 be the censures which have been by grave and weighty authorities 
 pronounced upon bills of attainder in general, whatever the irre- 
 gularities and deviations from the rules of law or principles of 
 justice which have sometimes attended their progress, into these 
 we do not presume to enter ; because we apprehend that bills of 
 attainder of living persons, or the motives which lead to them, or 
 the maxims Avhich govern them, do not apply to the present bill. 
 We are aware that the Scdus Populi, of which the legislature, we 
 know, must judge, — that the security of the government, of which 
 the legislature is, we know, the guard, — may sometimes, though 
 very rarely, be supposed to render necessary an anomalous and 
 extraordinary proceeding, which certainly dispenses with some of 
 the most valuable securities for the life, liberty, and property of 
 the subject. But these are still proceedings against living men ; 
 and, at least, the never varying and eternal principle of justice, 
 not to condemn and punish unheard^ is not violated. In a proceed- 
 ing in parliament, as on the trial of an indictment, the accused, 
 if living, may make a full defence; has the important privilege 
 of answering the charge; cross-examining the witnesses against 
 him ; contradicting their testimony ; showing their incompetence 
 to be heard, or incredibility when heard ; and of availing himself 
 of all other means by which falsehood is demonstrated or inno- 
 cence established. He has the use of his own talents, and the 
 assistance of the talents of others ; and it should not be forgotten, 
 that he has the opportunity and advantage of exposing the errors 
 
282 APPENDIX. 
 
 and ignorance of his adversaries. And in whatever human tri- 
 bunal charge is made or accusation preferred, no experience will 
 contradict the assertion that it is most frequently in the power of 
 the accused alone to furnish the means of his own defence, to de- 
 tect fraud, to make falsehood manifest, to develope motives, to 
 unravel events, to point out time, place, persons, the whole train 
 of circumstances which discriminate human actions, and, by im- 
 parting to them their true colour and real character, either as- 
 sert and protect innocence, or fix and ascertain the exact shade 
 and precise gradation of guilt, where guilt does exist. But these 
 inestimable privileges are the privileges only of the living : and 
 accordingly the wisdom, and justice, and mercy, and decorum of 
 the law of England (and we believe the law of Ireland is not 
 different) confine its jurisdiction to the living, to those who can 
 hold communion with parliaments and courts, with judges and 
 juries, with counsel, and attorneys and witnesses. But our law 
 teaches us. that as the persons of those on whom the tomb is 
 closed are no longer objects of human punishment, their actions 
 are no longer of human cognizance, or subjects of temporal judg- 
 ment, which death in all cases, and necessarily, disappoints of its 
 victim, 
 
 '• Of this we shall only lay before your majesty the striking in- 
 stances which follow, and apply closely to the subject on which 
 we address your majesty. 
 
 " We have the authority of Sir Matthew Hale for stating, that 
 at all times, in all cases of felony or treason, except the single 
 case of death received in open war against the king, and, as that 
 exception will be found to have been soon overruled, it may now, 
 upon the same authority, be stated, that from the beginning of the 
 reign of Edward III,, in all cases of felony or treason, without 
 any exception, if the party die before he be attainted, though he were 
 killed in the pursuit (which implies his resistance), or even in 
 open war against the king (a still stronger case), and (still more) 
 even though he had been tried and convicted, yet, // he died after 
 conviction, and before judgment, 'there ensued,' to use Sir Mat- 
 thew Hale"s words, ' neither attainder.' that is, judgment, ' nor 
 forfeiture of lands,' 
 
 "And from the eighth year of King Edward III, the judges 
 would not allow an averment that a party died in open icar against 
 the king, either in rebellion or adhering to the king's enemies, 
 without a record of his conviction. 
 
 " And-now, by the statute of the twenty-fifth year of the reign 
 of King Edward III,, deproditiontbus^ which requires an attainder 
 by conviction, and attainder per gents de lew condition, attainder 
 after death for adhering to the king's enemies is ousted. 
 
 " And nine years afterward, because subtlety or chicanery 
 might say that an inquest before the escheator might satisfy 
 
APPENDIX. 283 
 
 those words, the statute of the thirty-fourth year of the reign of 
 the same King Edward, chap, 12, has in express terms, for the 
 future, ousted such attainders or convictions after death of the par- 
 ties. 
 
 " And this venerable judge, Sir Matthew Hale, a text-writer of 
 the highest authorit}' on the criminal law. emphatically lays down, 
 what is indeed engraven on every breast endued with a sense, or 
 animated with a love of justice, that 
 
 " ' No man ought to be attainted of treason without being called 
 to make his defence and put to answer, which is called arrenatio, or 
 ad rationem positusJ' 
 
 " And. among several remarkable precedents of justice in sup- 
 port of that just and protecting maxim, Sir jNI. Hale states the 
 case of Roger Mortimer. Earl of March, condemned for treason, 
 for the death of King Edward the Second. His heir, Roger Mor- 
 timer, in the reign of King Edward the Third, brought a petition 
 of error upon that judgment, and the record of his attainder was 
 removed into parliament, and there entered of record, and errors 
 were assigned that lie had not been arraigned and called upon to an- 
 swer ; and, by the judgment of the king, lords, and commons, the 
 judgment appealed from was reversed and annulled, and the peti- 
 tioner was restored to the title of Earl of JMarch, and the lands, 
 &c. of his grandfather. 
 
 " It cannot be pretended, and therefore it is not alleged, that 
 the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald was killed in open war against 
 your majesty, fighting either in open rebellion or for the enemies 
 of your majesty ; the only case in which, even in the least civil- 
 ized and most irregular times, when the constitution can scarcely 
 be deemed to have been settled, a forfeiture by a proceeding after 
 death could be incurred, — and to effect a forfeiture, even in those 
 unruly and turbulent times, and in a case so extraordinary, when 
 death was received in the very act of flagrant and raging rebel- 
 lion. — a presentment in Eyre, a presentment in the King's Bench, 
 or an inquisition by the escheator was indispensable. 
 
 '• But this practice has been shown to have been of old time 
 discountenanced and reprobated by the judges of the land, and 
 condemned and prohibited by the authority of parliament. 
 
 '• And even the practice of accusing and attainting in cases of 
 treason or felony, without indictment or presentment, where the 
 party was taken living, with the mainour cum manu opere. is, says 
 Sir M. Hale, disused and ousted by the statutes of the fifth year 
 of the reiorn of Kino; Edward the Third, chap. 9. and the 25th 
 year of the reign of the same king. chap. 4, according to winch 
 statutes, • none shall be put to answer without indictment or pre- 
 sentment of good and lawful men of the neighbourhood.' 
 
 " Attainder, on which, as we have frequently had occasion to 
 show, so much depends, we understand to be the immediate and 
 
284 APPENDIX. 
 
 inseparable consequence o^ sentence of death. When that sentence 
 is pronounced, the criminal is called attaint, attinctux, stained or 
 blackened. ' This/ says Mr. Justice Blackstone, in his excellent 
 Commentaries, 'is after judgment ; for there is great difference 
 between a man convicted and attainted, though they are frequently, 
 but inaccurately, confounded together. After conviction only, a 
 man is liable to none of these disabilities ' (the inseparable con- 
 sequences of sentence of death) ; ' for there is still' (after con- 
 viction) ' in contemplation of law, a possibility of his innocence. 
 Something may be offered at any time before judgment' actually 
 pronounced, and at the very instant that it is about to be pro- 
 nounced ; for which express purpose the criminal is at that time 
 asked whether he has any thing to allege why judgment should 
 not pass against him. ' The indictment may be erroneous, which 
 will render his guilt uncertain, and thereupon the present con- 
 viction may be quashed , he may obtain a pardon' (which, we un- 
 derstand, may be pleaded after conviction, and at any time before 
 judgment is actually pronounced^, 'or be allowed the benefit of 
 clergy. But when judgment is once pronounced, both law and 
 fact conspire to prove him completely guilty, and there is not the 
 remotest possibility left of anything to be said in his favour. Up- 
 on judgment, therefore, of death, and not before, (that is, when 
 the remotest possibility that any thing can be said in his fiivour 
 is exhausted, — merciful law ! and not more merciful than wise !) 
 then ' the attainder of a criminal commences ; or, upon such cir- 
 cumstances as are equivalent to a judgment of death, as judg- 
 ment of outlawry on a capital crime pronounced for absconding 
 or fleeing from justice, which tacitly confesses the guilt. And 
 therefore, either upon judgment of outlawry or of death, for trea- 
 son or felony, a man shall be said to be attainted. The conse- 
 quences of attainder arc forfeiture and corruption of blood.' 
 
 '• Enough, we humbly hope, sire, has been urged to satisfy your 
 royal mind that forfeiture of lands and corruption of blood are 
 the legal fruits and consequences, the strict technical effects, of 
 the attainder of an existing traitor or felon who has, at the time 
 of the attainder^ blood to be corrupted and land to be forfeited 
 (all alienations of his land between the period of his crime and 
 that of his attainder being, by the judgment of the law. avoid- 
 ed). Forfeiture and corruption of blood are, indeed, the fruits 
 of crime, but fruits which the nice and scrupulous justice of the 
 law disdains to gather until it has given to the criminal every 
 possible opportunity of defending himself, and is enabled to say, 
 even the most remote possibility of his innocence is now exclud- 
 ed. May such, sire, ever be the just description and character 
 of the law of forfeiture and corruption of the blood of an inno- 
 cent posterity, while it is deemed expedient to permit that law to 
 endure ; and may none other ever be executed by the sovereign 
 
APPENDIX. 285 
 
 of a free people ! Where there is no attainder in the lifetime of 
 the subject, the legal root from which alone these fruits spring 
 fails, and we might as well look for an effect of which the sole 
 cause has no existence. If the subject die unattainted, who shall 
 take upon him to say that he does not die innocent ] Who is 
 authorized to assert that, had he lived, he ever would have been 
 attainted '? Who shall presume to allege that the most remote 
 possibility of his innocence was excluded 1 Who will undertake 
 to answer for the issue of his trial had he lived to such an event 1 
 And, supposing him convicted, who will prescribe limits to your 
 majesty-s clemency, or dare to affirm that no motive to mercy, no 
 service he could have rendered, no discovery he could have made, 
 no repentance of his errors, no situation into which his misfor- 
 tunes, his sufferings, or his offences might have plunged him, 
 could possibly have actuated your royal breast to the exercise of 
 that godlike attribute at any moment previous to the time of his 
 being stained by final sentence and the dreadful judgment of the 
 law ? 
 
 " If, then, sire, the subject die unattainted, his blood flows un- 
 attainted to his unoffending offspring, and his property descends, 
 at the instant of his death, to his legal representatives, whose 
 dominion over it from that moment becomes absolute : whose title 
 is guarded and secured by all the laws of property, by all the rules, 
 and maxims, and statutes which prescribe and regulate its des- 
 cent and distribution on the death of the person last seised and 
 possessed. Their title is without defect or imperfection. Their 
 alienations, whether by sale, or mortgage, or settlement, would 
 convey a pure and unadulterated right. In this state of things, 
 to overturn the general law of the land, the security of every 
 mans inheritance, and, by an arbitary act of power and a fictiti- 
 ous post-mortem attainder (a solecism in language and a contra- 
 diction in terms), divested of every characteristic of a real one, 
 to sentence innocence and infancy, on which alone this shocking 
 proceeding can operate, to degradation and dishonour ; to create 
 in those, who not only have not committed, but who are incap- 
 able of the commission of crime, the incapacity of inheriting 
 after they have inherited ; to break and intercept the descent of 
 that which lias already descended ; and to inflict on the unoffend- 
 ing the loss of property which has in the due course and opera- 
 tion of law upon that property come to them ; — can, gracious sire, 
 such an instrument of injury and worker of wrong expect to ob- 
 tain the sanction and authority of a legislative proceeding, which 
 would foul the fountain and pollute the sanctuary of law, and 
 make those records, which ought to be the monuments of truth 
 and justice, a whimsical compound of absurdity, imposture, pas- 
 sion, and tyranny 1 
 
 " Of examples in good or regular times for this monstrous pro- 
 
286 APPENDIX. 
 
 ceeding we are, with one exception only, fortunately ignorant ; 
 although, since the happy accession of your majesty's family, its 
 title to the crown of these realms was long and openly disputed, 
 and twice by open rebellion, and oftener by meditated insurrec- 
 tion and conspiracies to levy war, attempted to be subverted ; so 
 that occasions for such examples, and the weak excuse of provo- 
 cations to such acts of outrage and violence, could not have been 
 wanting. The same observation applies to the reign of King 
 William the Third. A recollection of the commencement and 
 events of his reign, and of the conspiracies which were formed 
 for the destruction of his person and government, justifies the 
 conclusion. 
 
 " To very remote times, to the melancholy and disgraceful 
 periods of our history, when hostile factions alternately gave away 
 and resumed the royal sceptre, and the crown was supported, not 
 by the law, but by the sword, we shall not resort ; nor shall we 
 ransack the flagitious registers of those rapacious counsels which 
 hunted after forfeitures and sought a source of revenue in the 
 destruction of opulent subjects. These the judgment of a more 
 just and more enlightened posterity has doomed to their merited 
 fate. But the precedent which, as an exception, we mentioned 
 before, is furnished by the case of the attainder of the regicides 
 after the restoration of King Charles the Second, among whom 
 four were dead, Cromwell, Bradshaw, Pryde, and Ireton, — a pre- 
 cedent which, as far as it relates to the dead, has never since been 
 followed, and which, in all human probability, there never will in 
 these kingdoms be again occasion to follow. And on that act of 
 attainder, whether the measures then pursued against the dead 
 may now be looked back upon with pride or shame, it may be 
 observed, that the acts of treason were not of more enormity than 
 notoriety. The destruction of the person of the king, the sub- 
 version of the regal authority, the usurpation of the government, 
 did not admit of any sort of question. That was no case of con- 
 spiring to levy war, or of endeavouring to persuade the kings 
 enemies to invade the realm. • There the treasonable purposes 
 were perfectly accomplished, and the guilt of the conspirators 
 was consummated by the complete attainment of their treason- 
 able objects. To the conviction of mankind, from the nature of 
 the case, the most remote possibility that any thing could be said 
 in contradiction to the facts alleged against the regicides did 
 not remain ; and the dead could not possibly have been tried, 
 could not possibly have been pardoned, before their decease, be- 
 cause they had overturned the authority under which they were 
 to be tried, and destroyed the source from which grace and mercy 
 flowed. Their wealth, too, in so singular a state of guilt, was 
 presumed to have been the fruit of their successful treasons, and 
 it was alleged at the time that the fact justified the presumption. 
 
4.PPEXDIX. 281 
 
 We do not make these remarks for the purpose of exercising; a 
 judgment which we are not called upt^a to pronounce on any part 
 of that proceeding, but solely to point out the little reseml^Uince 
 which the case that produced it has to that brought by this bill 
 under your majesty's consideration. 
 
 " After what has been already alleged, it can scarcely be neces- 
 sary to add, but the truth is, that Lord Edward Fitzgerald never, 
 during any period of his life, had judgment of high treason pro- 
 nounced against him ; never was convicted of high treason ; 
 never was tried for, or arraigned of, high treason ; nor had any 
 indictment or presentment for high treason ever been found or 
 preferred against him by good and lawful men of his neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 " Your petitioners, sire, have always apprehended that tho 
 guilt of man cannot be presumed or acted upon unless it has been 
 established in a due and regular course of law ; but in this case, 
 the guilt of the dead ancestor is assumed, for the unjust and 
 odious purpose of divesting his innocent posterity of their just 
 and lawful rights, and despoiling them of their absolute and in- 
 disputable property. What are the limits to the exercise of such 
 a power ] For what injustice, what violence, what oppression, 
 what rapacity may not such a bill be a precedent 1 What rights 
 of property does it leave secure 1 Does not the same general and 
 equal law which assures the inheritance and possessions of all 
 the rest of your majesty's subjects secure the inheritance and 
 possessions of these unfortunate and oppressed children 1 Is their 
 title less valid than the title of any other man ? or worse secured 
 than if they had acquired it by purchase, settlement, or deed of 
 gift ? Upon the principle of this bill, may not any man, or num- 
 ber of men, equally void of offence as these helpless infants, be 
 stripped of their property, and reduced to indigence and misery 
 by an arbitary, ex parte, extra-judicial, posthumous, legislative 
 enactment of the treason of some departed ancestor ? What new 
 and unheard-of power is this which punishes living persons of 
 acknowledged innocence, by trying and condemning the dead 1 
 And what ideas of justice must those entertain who thus attempt 
 to violate the sacred rights of property, and perpetrate an act of 
 wrong and violence by exhibiting a mock trial of the dead, where, 
 if there may be accusation, there can be no defence ; and if there 
 may be crime, there can be no criminal. 
 
 '■ If for any reason beyond our capacity to perceive, it were 
 thought necessary, by a special legislative act made on the spur 
 of the occasion and in the rage of the moment, to find the fact 
 and make the law for dooming the untried dead to a judgment of 
 high treason, we cannot but hope that your majesty's love of jus- 
 tice will countenance us in thinking that even then the bill might 
 have stopped there, without superadding the confiscation and tor- 
 
288 APPENDIX. 
 
 feiture of that property which now by law belongs to his innocent 
 children. Treason tliey cannot have committed, and they are not 
 traitors by birth or inheritance : yet this bill makes them so, and, 
 at the same time that it cruelly renders them, innocent and help- 
 less as they are, incapable of inheriting any thing else, it pre- 
 sents them with treason for their inheritance, leaves them desti- 
 tute of the means of education and sustenance, and turns them 
 into the world naked and desolate, in calamity, misery, and 
 despair, as if it were necessary by this bill to imbitter their mis- 
 fortunes and aggravate their sufferings, and to teach them their 
 duties to society by robbing them of their rights in it. 
 
 " These superadded provisions in the case of perfect innocence 
 cannot but appear the more extraordinary proofs of precipitation 
 and passion, that your majesty's royal clemency has been recently 
 extended (highly to the satisfaction of your petitioners, and, we 
 believe, to that of the rest of .your majesty's subjects) to several 
 persons, one or more convicted of, and the rest charged with, high 
 treason ; all of whom have, consequently, preserved their pro- 
 perty, while the innocent children of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 those who cannot have been guilty of any offencCj are, by the 
 provisions of this bill, made to forfeit theirs. Thus, it appears, 
 that while the government of Ireland is remitting the punish- 
 ments which in the course of law fail upon the guilty, it is ex- 
 tending and aggravating beyond the laAV those consequences of 
 guilt which fail only upon the innocent. What would be the 
 sense and feeling of mankind, if, in the case of a tried, convicted 
 traitor, his property were preserved for him during his life, but 
 that effect of his attainder were enforced which furieits his prop- 
 erty after his death, when it would devolve upon his innocent 
 children ^ that is, that the guilty father should be pardoned, but 
 the innocent children punished ! And what less can be said 
 of this bill, when the case of the innocent children of Lord Ed- 
 ward Fitzgerald is contrasted with that of those who, at the very 
 time of its passing, have been objects of royal mercy in Ireland ? 
 
 '' The provisions of this bill are also rendered more striking, 
 by considering that several modern statutes which constitute the 
 offence of treason provide that it shall work no forfeiture of lands 
 save only for the life of the offender ; and all such modern sta- 
 tutes preserve to the wife of the offender her dower. And in the 
 case of high treason itself, the hereditary punishment of a traitor 
 actually attainted has, during nearly the whole of this century, 
 stood m the statute-book tacitly condemned ; as a period has been 
 fixed for its cessation, which, in the course of nature, must in all 
 probability soon arrive. 
 
 " We trust, may it please your majesty, that we have urged 
 reasons of sufficient weight against the general principles of this 
 bill of injustice and violence to induce your majesty, in your 
 
APPENDIX. 289 
 
 kTiOwn love of justice and uniform regard for the rights of prop- 
 erty, to protect these defenceless orphans in the enjoyment of 
 theirs, and to withhold your royal assent from this bill. But, 
 according to the best accounts which we have been able to obtain 
 of it, it will in the detail of its provisions be found consistent 
 with the violent and oppressive character of its general prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 *' In such a bill, instead of loose, and general, and accumulating 
 terms, — instead of recitals of the crimes, and convictions, and 
 attainders of others, — there might have been expected some legal 
 precision and certainty in the description of the treason charged 
 upon the deceased, and at least some clear and distinct specifi- 
 cation of the overt acts by which it was manifested and to be 
 proved. 
 
 '• The bill alleges, that since the first of November, 1797, the 
 deceased did commit ' several acts of high treason, by conspiring 
 to raise and stir up insurrection and rebellion, and by endeavour- 
 ing to persuade the enemies of our lord the king to invade his 
 kingdom of Ireland ; and did, in pursuance of the said treason, 
 commit several overt acts with intent to depose and dethrone the 
 king, and subvert and overturn the government of his kingdom 
 of Ireland.' 
 
 " Such legal advice as we have been able to procure has in- 
 structed us that this contains no legal description of the crime of 
 high treason. To compass or imagine the death of our lord the 
 king is high treason • to levy war against our lord the king is 
 high treason ; to adhere to the enemies of our lord the king is 
 high treason. But ' conspiring to raise and stir up insurrection 
 and rebellion,' we are informed, is not a description of high trea- 
 son ; though it may, Ivhen properly laid, be charged as an overt 
 act of compassing or imagining the kings death. And • endea- 
 vouring to persuade the enemies of our lord the king to invade 
 the kingdom,' we are also informed, is not a description of high 
 treason ; though persuading the enemies of our lord the king to 
 invade the kingdom may, when properly laid, be charged as an 
 overt act of adhering to the kino-'s enemies. 
 
 " But what are the overt acts of what the bill describes as high 
 treason 1 The deceased ' did, in pursuance of the said treason, 
 commit several overt acts with intent to depose,' &c. But what 
 these several overt acts were, or what any one of them was, or 
 where or when committed, this bill of attainder of treason nowhere 
 informs us ; so that the infant children of the deceased were ex- 
 pected to defend their parent against high treason not described 
 by the charge, and of which no overt act was disclosed by the 
 charge ; although your petitioners are informed, that to sustain 
 a charge of high treason, the treason itself must be first correctly 
 charged ; and next, some act, with the place, time, and other neces- 
 
290 APPENDIX. 
 
 sary ingredients thereof, by which such treason is demonstrated or 
 made overt. 
 
 '• If it be true, as we have been informed, that no access was 
 permitted to Lord Edward Fitzgerald after he was taken into cus- 
 tody, no measures could have been concerted in his lifetime for 
 his defence ; still, after his death, his infant children were, it 
 seems, expected to undertake that defence^ and had their all at 
 stake on it. And yet they were not informed by the charge against 
 hitn what were the overt acts of treason against which they were 
 to defend him. 
 
 '• Neither does the bill state that any of the facts, alleged as 
 they are against the deceased, have been proved at all : still less 
 which of them, or how^ or by what witnesses or evidence, so as to 
 give your majesty any information to satisfy your majesty's con- 
 science or judgment; although your majesty is called upon to be 
 a party to this bill, to sit in judgment upon the dead, and to con- 
 fiscate the property of the living innocent ! 
 
 " And whatever confidence in the case of public acts, or in or- 
 dinary cases of private acts, your majesty may constitutionally be 
 expected to place in the proceedings of parliament, yet, Avhen 
 parliament assumes these extraordinary functions of judicial ma- 
 gistracy ; institute prosecutions of a sort quite unknown to the 
 law, and conduct them on principles utterly repugnant to it; dis- 
 pose of private rights legally vested in innocent and unoffending 
 pe^'sons, whose tender age and incapacity make them peculiar ob- 
 jects of the protection of the law ; enact a crime ex post facfo, 
 after the death of the alleged criminal, and a confiscation of an 
 inheritance after it is vested : — we trust that it will not be thought 
 either unreasonable in itself, or any departure from your majesty's 
 general confidence in parlu\ment, that a bill of so singular a spe- 
 cies, and so terrible an aspect, should not, merely because it has 
 passed the other two branches of the legislature, and without any 
 examination of its principles, allegations, or provision, receive 
 your majesty's assent, and obtain the force of law. 
 
 " Moreover, sire, this bill declares forfeited all the real estate 
 which Lord Edward Fitzgerald had on the 1st of November, 1797, 
 and makes void all transfers of it subsequent to that time, and 
 yet makes no provision out of it for the payment of any of his 
 debts ; though from that time to the time of his expiration, 
 several months afterward, he had the uncontrolled dominion over 
 his property, and may have mortgaged or charged it for money 
 lent, or other valuable consideration ; or, without specifically en- 
 cambering it, may have contracted specialty debts upon the faith 
 and credit of his possession of it with a known and just title to 
 ir. Was it criminal in his creditors to transact v»iih him the 
 ordinary business of life ] or what care or caution have they 
 omitted 1 \Vhat prudence or foresight could reveal to them, that 
 
APPENDIX. 291 
 
 after the death of their unconvicted debtor a special act of par- 
 liament should, by a post mortem attainder of treason, confiscate 
 his property from a date purely arbitrary and capricious: which 
 property was at that date and at the time of his death more than 
 sufhcient to enable the lawful owner of it honourably and consci- 
 entiously to fulfil all the pecuniary obligations for which it was 
 responsible, or which he had contracted. 
 
 " The bill also declares all his personal estate forfeited, and 
 carries that forfeiture back to the 1st March, 1798, although by 
 his death, unconvicted of any crime, independent of the legal 
 claims of his widow and next of kin, all his creditors at the time 
 of his death have a legal claim on his personal estate for the pay- 
 ment of their debts. Yet this bill has no respect to such their chiim ; 
 nor, which is still more extraordinary, does it even make provision 
 for the payment of his funeral expenses out of his personal estate ; 
 so that those who contracted for his funeral expenses, or furnished 
 the means of his Christian burial, are to be added to the number 
 of persons punished by this bill, for the performance of an act of 
 decorum and piety, — the decent interment of his remains. It 
 is not improper to be suggested, that betweeq the 1st of March, 
 1798, and the time of his death, his personal estate, or some of it, 
 may have been sold and transferred, and the produce appropriated 
 to the fulfilment of his obligations, or expended in the necessary 
 support of himself, his wife, and children. If, for instance, he 
 had any property in the public funds, it may have been sold at the 
 Stock Exchange, and transferred at the Bank, either by himself 
 or by the authority of a letter of attorney, under the existing 
 laws of this country. Yet the bill attempts at least to reach all 
 the personal estate of which, on the 1st of March, 1798, he was 
 possessed, though he died unconvicted, and though by the law of 
 the land the forfeiture of personal estate on conviction for treason 
 does not relate back to any time previous to conviction. ' The for- 
 feiture of goods and chattels,' says Sir William Blackstone, ' has 
 no relation backwards ; so that those only which a man has at the 
 time of conviction shall be forfeited. Therefore, a traitor or felon 
 may bona fide sell any of his chattels, real or personal, for the 
 Bustenance of himself and family, between the fact and conviction : 
 for personal property is of so fluctuating a nature, that it passes 
 through many hands in a short time, and no buyer could be safe 
 if he were liable to return the goods which he had fairly bought, 
 pro\ided any of the prior venders had committed treason or 
 felony,' So that this bill not only enacts a conviction, of the dead, 
 but gives to that conviction an efi:ect which it would not have had 
 by law had it actually taken place in his lifetime. The bill fixes 
 an arbitrary date, for which no reason is assigned, and which has 
 no reference even to its own fictions for the forfeiture of the per- 
 sonal estate ; refuses to pay for the burial of the dead ; takes from 
 
292 ' APPENDIX. 
 
 vendees and creditors their legal property : makes the deceased, 
 against his will, a fraudulent debtor in his grave, a posthumous 
 insolvent, though he died the lawful owner of a sufficiency of 
 assets real and personal ; defrauds his creditors of the fund out of 
 which they are entitled to l)e paid, and his widow and next of kin 
 of the surplus to which they are by law entitled. 
 
 " All which matters are humbly submitted to your majesty. 
 " And may it please your majesty to prove, as is natural to the 
 known benevolence of your royal mind, the protector of the 
 fatherless children and widow thus desolate and oppressed ! — that 
 this unexampled, violent, vindictive, and cruel bill may not be 
 further proceeded in ; or, that your majesty would be pleased to 
 withhold your royal assent from the same. 
 
 " And your petitioners, as in duty bound, will ever pray, &c. 
 (Signed) " Richmond. 
 
 " W. Ogilvie. 
 
 "■ Henry Fitzgerald. 
 
 " Charles James Fox. 
 
 ''■ Henry Edward Fox. 
 
 "Holland." 
 
 from the dutchess dowager of leixster to lord henry 
 
 fitzgerald. 
 
 <' October, 1798. 
 
 "■ My dearest Henry, 
 " I send you a copy of the sketch Lord Holland sent me, by 
 Charles Fox's desire, of a petition to the king, desiring him to 
 order the former petition, which arrived too late, to be laid before 
 him ; and this, it is proposed, should go along with my letter, of 
 which here is also a copy. We are now in doubt who should 
 present it ; my brother ofiers, if I wish it, to ask an audience of 
 the king in his closet, and to add his representations of the busi- 
 ness, which may not have reached the king's ear. I have written 
 to Lord Holland to consult Charles about it, and also to know from 
 him if he thinks the Duke of York would do it, and, if he would, 
 whether that is not the best. 1 mean to write both to the prince 
 and duke for their approbation of it : at any rate, to the first, as 
 a compliment due to his good-nature ; to the latter, in hopes that, 
 whether he presents it or not, he may back it, as he has great 
 weight, and has always shown much feeling. Did you happen 
 to know that he had actually obtained the delay of the trial 1 so 
 much dreaded, although he had made me no promise, and only 
 made use of terms of compassion when he listened to me. with- 
 out engaging to do any thing ? God bless you, dear angel, and 
 all at lioyle Farm. 
 
 " Ever your affectionate mother, " £. L." 
 
APPENDIX. 293 
 
 " TO THE king's MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY." 
 
 " May it please your majesty, 
 
 " The humble petition of Emily, Dutchess Dowager of 
 Leinster, wife of William Ogilvie, Esq.. and mother of 
 the right honourable Edward Fitzgerald, commonly 
 called Lord Edward Fitzgerald ; 
 
 " SHOW^ETH, 
 
 "That an humble petition of the right honourable Henry 
 Fitzgerald, 
 
 '■ To your majesty, against a bill passed by the parliament of 
 Ireland, and transmitted for your majesty's royal assent, for, 
 among other purposes, the attainder of the said Edward Fitzger- 
 ald, Esq., was, on Friday, the 28th of September last, delivered 
 into the office of his grace, the Duke of Portland, one of your 
 majesty's principal secretaries of state, in order to its being laid 
 before your majesty, previous to the passing of the said bill. 
 That your petitioner has been informed, that on the Wednesday, 
 the 3d day of this month, it was intimated to one of the said 
 petitioners, by letter from the Duke of Portland, that the said 
 petition had not reached Weymouth till Saturday morning, the 
 29th of September last, and that the commission empowering the 
 lord lieutenant to give the royal assent to that and other bills 
 had passed the great seal, and had been despatched the preceding 
 evening. That your petitioner, imagining from the circumstance 
 that the said petition may not have been submitted to your ma- 
 jesty's consideration, beseeches your majesty, in the humble hope 
 that the reasons which were offered to your majesty why the 
 said bill should not pass into a law may be deemed by your ma- 
 jesty of sufficient w^eight to induce your majesty, as an act of 
 personal grace and favour from your majesty to the innocent and 
 infant children of the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald, by your ma- 
 jesty's royal grant to restore to them that property of which 
 they were possessed till the said bill was passed, and of which 
 the said bill has divested them. And which your majesty's peti- 
 tioner, as in duty bound, will ever pray, &c. &;c. &." 
 
 The following are the affecting appeals addressed by her grace 
 to the three royal personages mentioned in her letter : — 
 
 to his majesty george the third, from the dutchess 
 dowager of leinster.* 
 
 " Sir, 
 " Your majesty, who has so often honoured me with condescend- 
 
 * This letter was presented to his majesty, in the closet, by the Duke of Rich- 
 mond, on the 24th of October, 1798. 
 
294 APPEXDIX. 
 
 ing goodness in the days of my prosperity, will, I am sure, allow 
 me to apply to you in those of my adversity. Family affection 
 has ever been a marked feature in your majesty's character, 
 and your subjects have contemplated it with pleasure, as flowing 
 from that benevolence of heart, to which, in their distresses, they 
 might safely appeal without the fear of being deemed presump- 
 tuous. In this persuasion, sir, I flatter myself you will look with 
 pity on an afflicted parent, in the dechne of life, bereft of a 
 favourite child, and sympathize in her sorrows. To the will of 
 Heaven my broken heart submits with resignation ; and. trans- 
 ferring to the children of my beloved son that anxious tenderness 
 which filled my bosom so many years for his happiness and wel- 
 fare, I fondly hoped in this occupation to find some relief for the 
 ang-uish of my heart. But, sir, what must my wretchedness be, 
 when I find myself robbed of this comfort by a fatal and unex- 
 pected blow, depriving these innocent babes of the little patri- 
 mony which; I am informed, was actually theirs oh the death of 
 their father, unconvicted of any crime, and which a most extra- 
 ordinary exertion of the power of parliament has now taken from 
 them. 
 
 '• 1 did not join, sir, in a petition which their guardians and 
 some of their family presented to your majesty, beseeching you 
 not to give your assent to this bill, because that petition went 
 into legal discussions, which it did not becc^me me to enter into ; 
 nor do 1 now presume to say any thing upon the reasons of policy 
 which only could have induced your majesty to suffer it to pass 
 into a law. No, sir, my hope and confidence is placed in the ex- 
 cellence of your heart. 1 apply to that benevolence of which 
 your majesty has the uncontrolled exercise, and of which inno- 
 cent children are sure, to find a friend in your majesty's breast. 
 Your majesty's parliament of Ireland, certainly misled in some 
 circumstances which would have come out very differently on a 
 fair trial, has thought proper to exert the utmost stretch of its 
 power ; and, however hardly used I must ever think my son and 
 his children have been, — his memory blasted, unheard, untried, 
 and unconvicted, — and, in their being selected to forfeit their in- 
 heritance for an offence never proved by any law, or in any court 
 of justice, 1 must submit to what is decided. But may 1 not hope, 
 sir. when, whether ill or well founded, pubhc vengeance has been 
 satisfied by th'e forfeiture declared by this act, my ever dear son's 
 life lost, and complicated misery fallen on his unhappy family, 
 that your majesty's natural feelings of compassion fur the dis- 
 tressed may be allowed to operate, and your goodness to flow in 
 favour of these helpless innocents ? 
 
 '■ Your majesty's reign has been marked with many restitu- 
 tions of property, forfeited in the ordinary course of law by of- 
 fenders regularly convicted of having actually taken up arms to 
 
APPENDIX. ■ 295 
 
 deprive your majesty and your family of the crown ; and the 
 blessings of thousands, with the approbation of all mankind, hare 
 followed these bountiful acts. Even at this moment [ am inform- 
 ed the property, with the life, of some convicted of what my son 
 can only be suspected of. — since he was never tried, — has been 
 preserved by your majesty's clemency. How, then, can I doubt 
 but that it will be extended to these innocent children, whose 
 property is now in your majesty's sole disposal. Oh, sir, I never 
 can forget the humanity and kindness of your two sons, their 
 royal highnesses the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York : 
 with what goodness they attended to my prayer, that they would 
 intercede with your majesty for that delay in the trial of my son 
 which would give time for heat and prejudice to subside, and en- 
 sure real justice. Tears dropped from their eyes while they 
 listened to my complaint ; they seemed to take pleasure in repeat- 
 ing to me the assurance of your majesty's commiseration in my 
 misfortunes, and in soothing my grief with recalling many little 
 circumstances of your majesty's former goodness to me. The 
 same benevolence still exists, and I trust will restore to my grand- 
 children their lost property, a gift for which your majesty will 
 ever have my most fervent prayers for your happiness ; which 
 will relieve my poor little ones from want and, beggary, and en- 
 able my son's executors honourably to pay his debts : but which 
 can in no respect be more gratifying to me, than in the proof it 
 will afford that your majesty has not entirely withdrawn your 
 protection from a family long and devotedly attached to your per- 
 son -and government. 
 
 '• But if, contrary to these, I trust, neither unnatural or unrea- 
 sonable hopes, reasons I cannot presume to judge of should still 
 restrain the first emotion which I am sure 3^our majesty's heart 
 will feel for unoffending children, let me beseech your majesty not 
 to suffer their property to be sold or given away to others ; from 
 whence, however connected with that of the family, it could never 
 be recovered. Preserve it, sir, unalienated in your own hands, 
 and if their innocence be not a sufficient claim for restitution at 
 this moment, at least, sir, reserve to yourself the godlike power 
 of restoring them to their birthright, if by their duty and loyalty 
 to your majesty, their respect for the constitution, and obedience 
 to the laws, they should hereafter show themselves deserving of 
 such a mark of your majesty's favour; and your majesty may 
 be assured, as long as I live, I shall think it ray duty to see them 
 educated in these principles." 
 
296 APPENDIX. 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERIC, DUKE OF YORK, FROM THE 
 DUTCHESS DOWAGER OF LEINSTER. 
 
 " Itchenor, Oct. 20th, 1798. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " The sensibility and sympathy with my affliction that your 
 royal highness showed, when 1 presumed to request your good of- 
 fices to obtain such a delay in my son's trial, as should have given 
 time to passion and prejudice to subside, have made the deepest 
 impression on my heart, and induces me once more to apply to 
 your royal highness as the friend of wretchedness and distress. 
 
 '- 1 have ever venerated that humanity and benevolence that 
 shine so conspicuous in your royal fiither"s chai'acter ; and to 
 these qualities alone I wish to address an application in favour of 
 the innocent children of my beloved and unfortunate son. I have 
 the honour of enclosing a copy of a letter to his majesty for your 
 royal highess's perusal ; and if your royal highness approve of 
 the contents, I should humbly request your royal highness to have 
 the condescending goodness to deliver it to the king. 
 
 '• The situation of these helpless children will speak forcibly to 
 your royal highness's feelings. They are the children of a soldier 
 and a brave one, who has bled for his king and his country. 
 
 " If I durst presume to oiFer any vindication of my dear unfor- 
 tunate son's conduct, it should be an appeal to your royal high- 
 ness if any officer was more prodigal of his blood, more devoted 
 to his majesty, and more zealous in his duty, than my brave son, 
 while he had the honour of serving his majesty, and until his 
 majesty was unfortunately advised to remove him from that ser- 
 vice. Need I add sir, that a sentence of death would have been an 
 act of mercy to a man of his spirit "? But for that fatal measure 
 my valuable son might either be now a living ornament to his 
 profession, and I a happy mother, or I should have had the con- 
 solation of his having fallen gloriously fighting for his king and 
 his country. Alas, how much reason have 1 to complain ! But 
 he never imputed any blame to his majesty ; and freely forgave 
 his advisers, though he strongly felt that the treatment was un- 
 merited, and it consequently made a deep and indelible impression 
 on his mind, — even insensibly to himself, as he never Avould allow 
 it had any efiect on his conduct. 
 
 " But, sir, when a man who for years had enjoyed a pension 
 from your majesty's bounty, and who was executed in actual re- 
 beUion, has not been included in the bill of attainder, may I not 
 hope that your royal highness will find a fiivourable moment to 
 represent to his majesty the difi'erence of my son's case, whose 
 services were not only unrewarded but rejected, and he deprived 
 of the honour of serving in a profession to which he was devoted 
 by inclination and duty. 
 
4PPENDIX. 297 
 
 " I hope it will not appear to your royal highness as if I com- 
 plained that the name of the unfortunate man to whom I allude 
 had not been inserted in the bill of attainder. — God forbid : I state 
 it only as a striking proof of partiality in the framers and advisers 
 of -this bill, which would alone justify an act of grace from his 
 majesty, 
 
 " Another circumstance I would presume to state as an allevia- 
 tion and by no means as an excuse for my son, — that whatever 
 his objects and views might have been as to the independence of 
 Ireland, it appears clearly, from the reports of the Irish parlia- 
 ment, that he w^as the person who prevented the French from 
 sending a large army into Ireland, and resisted the idea of sub- 
 jecting it to France. So that 1 hope he might have been betrayed 
 into the fatal error stated in the reports, of thinking that Irish 
 independence was not incompatible with a connexion with Great 
 Britain. 
 
 '• In humble reliance on your royal highness's goodness, I will 
 venture to mention another circumstance. In the report of the 
 Irish House of Lords, great stress is laid on a plan said to have 
 been found among my sons papers, for the attack of the city of 
 Dublin. That paper was found on the 12th of March ; and a few 
 days after, an armourer who worked in the ordnance-yard in the 
 castle of Dublin, on hearing it talked of, went to the under-secre- 
 tary of state and desired to see the plan, which, when show^n to 
 him, he acknowledged to be his, and that he had sent it, anony- 
 mous, to Lord Fdward Fitzgerald ; and, being asked his reasons 
 for so doing, said, because he understood Lord Edward was a good 
 engineer, and curious in those matters. The plan is not mentioned 
 in the report of the House of Commons drawn up by Lord Castle- 
 reagh, who knew the circumstances. I will leave your royal 
 highness to decide, if they could have been unknown to the com- 
 mittee of the House of Lords. 
 
 " I fear I have trespassed too long on your royal highness's pa- 
 tience by entering into the detail of particulars, that from ray 
 anxiety may have appeared to me as favourable ; but, after all, 
 sir, I confess to your royal highness, that my whole dependence 
 and hope of success for my petition is in the goodness of the 
 king's heart, and in his majesty's compassionate feeling for my 
 unoifending innocent grandchildren, and, I trust, I shall not be 
 mistaken. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, sir, 
 " Most gratefully and dutifully, 
 " Your royal highness's 
 
 '• Obedient servant, 
 (Signed) "E. Leinster." 
 
298 APPENDIX. 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS GEORGE PRINCE OF WALES, FROM THE 
 DUTCHESS DOWAGER OF LEINSTER. 
 
 "Itclienor, Oct. 20, 1798. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 '• Never, to the last hour of my life, will the remembrance be 
 effaced from my grateful heart of your royal highness's humane 
 participation of the distress by which it was torn, and of the 
 dreadful anxiety that filled my mind in those sad moments. Com- 
 plicated horrors have since that time overtaken me, and [ was 
 destined to feel the severest shock that could befall my declining 
 age. Sunk, as I now am, in the depth of misery and sorrow, I 
 must still reflect with pleasure on the excellence of that nature 
 which promises blessings to so many thousands, and in which, I 
 am certain, I shall find an advocate for the cause of the helpless 
 innocents, in whose favour I have ventured, with submission, to 
 address his majesty, whose goodness and benevolence have ever 
 been conspicuous. From these virtues, sir, I form a strong hope 
 that my application may not be unsuccessful; and I have taken 
 the liberty, sir, which 1 hope your ro3^al highness will forgive, of 
 inclosing a copy of my letter for your royal highness's perusal, 
 and, I h(jpe, for your approbation. 
 
 '• From my dependence on your royal highness's goodness to me, 
 I confess my first idea was to request your royal highness would 
 do me the honour to present my letter to the king yourself; but, 
 on reflection, it struck me as too great a presumption, and besides 
 that, being limited in time, as it must be presented before Wed- 
 nesday next, I thought it might not be convenient to your royal 
 highness, if it had otherwise been proper. I have, therefore, 
 ventured to address this request to his royal highness the Duke 
 of York, encouraged by the great kindness and condescension his 
 royal highness showed me on a former occasion. And 1 hoped 
 that his royal highness might feel an additional interest in the 
 fate of my beloved and unfortunate son, from the circumstance 
 of his having been a soldier, and his having distinguished him- 
 self as a brave and gallant oflBcer, until his majesty was un- 
 fortunately advised to remove him from his service ; and from 
 that hour 1 date ail his misfortunes and my own everlasting mis- 
 ery. 
 
 •' But I will no longer distress your royal highness's feelings 
 by dwelling on this subject, which drew tears from your eyes the 
 last time 1 had the honour of seeing you, — tears never to be for- 
 got. Allow me then, sir, to hope that the same benevolence will 
 operate in favour of my unhappy little grandchildren ; to your 
 favour and protection permit me to recommend them ; and, con- 
 fiding in your goodness, my heart will be eased of much of its 
 present anguish, and I shall look towards their welfare in this 
 
APPENDIX. 299 
 
 world with some degree of comfort. With sentiments^ &c. &c„ 
 I have the honour to be, &c. &c. 
 
 " Your royal highness's, &c. &c. 
 • (Signed) '' E. Leinster." 
 
 The letter that follows, though containing nothing upon the 
 subject of the attainder, 1 insert solely for the sake of its remarks 
 on the Orange party in Ireland ; remarks which, unluckily (from 
 the singular sameness of wrong that pervades the whole history 
 of that unhappy country, giving to periods however remote from 
 each other contemporary features), are almost as applicable at 
 the moment I transcribe them as on the day when they were 
 written. 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 " Celbridge, 26th October, 1798. 
 
 " My dear Brother, 
 
 51c ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ***** 
 
 '• Our rebellion seems lulled by Sir J. Warren's most gallant 
 conduct. I trust in God it will melt away in consequence of 
 softer measures, which alone take off the energy of resistance. 
 That justice is intended by Lord Cornwallis, every day affirms ; but 
 that it has not been executed, you will see a striking instance of 
 in a court-martial held in Dublin on a yeoman named Woolaghan, 
 and two others, Charles and James Fox. for the murder of a man 
 who had been believed a rebel, but was then sick, and perfectly 
 quiet. Lord Cornwallis's order in consequence of this court- 
 martial has enraged all the Orange party, who talk of him in the 
 most contemptuous terms ; and no wonder at their rage, for we 
 are too much used to murder, alas ! to let the murder of this sick 
 man make much impression; 'what signifies a rascally rebel ? ' 
 But it records, in the most public manner, that in most of the 
 yeomanry corps it was an understood thing that they were to go 
 out, without their officers, in no less number than nine (for their 
 own safety), and shoot whomever they thought or suspected to be 
 rebels, and not to bring them in prisoners. 
 
 '• Will people still shut their eyes to truth ? will they not see 
 that such is not the way to conciliate his majesty's subjects, or to 
 wean them from the strong passions that have so formidably 
 armed half the nation against the other 1 Deceived by wicked, 
 cunning men, the passions of the spirited and most courageous 
 have been worked upon to a degree of enthusiasm, which govern- 
 ment has kept up by the cruel fuel of deliberate barbarities, un- 
 der the injured name of loyalty, — a name which has been as 
 
300 APPENDIX. 
 
 much perverted by government as that of liberty has by repub- 
 licans. 
 
 " I am in hopes Lord Cornwallis's evident displeasure will, by 
 being so public, induce a semblance of humanity at leJlst, if it 
 does not reign in their hearts ; for their cruelty will not take such 
 terrible long strides in face of day, and the oppressed in private 
 may now venture to discover their sufferings from some hope of 
 justice." 
 
 The act of attainder, as it regarded Lord Edward, is known to 
 have been considered by the Irish government themselves as a 
 measure which could not be defended upon legal or constitutional 
 grounds, but which had been rendered necessary, they thought, 
 by the state of the country, and as a means of striking terror in- 
 to the disaffected. No sooner, therefore, had they, in their own 
 opinion, attained this object, than a disposition to relax into a 
 humaner policy, showed itself. The first great object of Lord 
 Edward's relatives after the enactment of the bill was to secure 
 the property of his infant heirs from passing into other hands ; 
 and in this the friendly zeal of Lord Clare, as will be seen by the 
 following letter, most readily seconded them. 
 
 FROM THE EARL OF CLARE TO AYILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Mount Shannon, May 18th, 1799. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " Your letter was put into my hands a very few days since, on 
 the bench of the Court of Chancery, and I inquired in vain for 
 Mr. Leeson whom you announced as the bearer of it. I have 
 been able to get down here for a very few days during the recess 
 of parhament, and shall return to town in the course of the next 
 week. 
 
 " Before I had the honour of hearing from you, Lady Louisa 
 Conolly had written to me on the same subject, and i did imme- 
 diately mention to her, that the only opening which is left for the 
 children of Lord Edward is an appeal to the bounty of the crown. 
 I understood from the Duke of Richmond, last autumn, that the 
 Dutchess of Leinstcr had presented a memorial to the king in 
 behalf of the poor little children, and that seems to be the only 
 course which can be pursued. Immediately on receiving Lady 
 Louisa's letter, I spoke to Lord Castlereagh to give directions to 
 the attorney-general not to take any decisive step for seizing the 
 estate until full time should be given for an appeal to the crown, 
 and 1 make no doubt that Lord Castlereagh has done it. [ also 
 recommended to Lady Louisa to apply to Lord Cornwallis to the 
 same effect. This, she told me, she would do by a letter, of which 
 she would make me the bearer ; and whenever I receive it from 
 
APPENDIX. 301 
 
 her, you may be assured I will lose no time in delivering it, and 
 that nothing shall be wanting on my part in seconding her appli- 
 cation. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, 
 
 " My Dear sir, very truly. 
 Your faithful, humble servant, 
 
 " Clare;' 
 
 The history of this small property may be thus briefly, and. as 
 regards the gentleman who was the chief means of saving it to 
 the family, honourably stated. Lord Clare having, with the ap- 
 probation of government, allowed the estate to be sold in Chan- 
 cery, under the foreclosure of a mortgage, to which the attorney- 
 general was made a party, Mr. Ogilvie became the purchaser of 
 it for £10,500 ; and having, by his good management of the pro- 
 perty, succeeded in paying off the mortgage and the judgment 
 debts, he had the satisfaction, at the end of a few years, of seeing 
 the estate restored to its natural course of succession, by settling 
 it upon Lord Edward's son and his heirs for ever. 
 
 At the end of the year 1799, Lady Louisa ConoUy and Mr. 
 Ogilvie made their first application to the Irish government for a 
 reversal of the attainder against Lord Edward ; and received as- 
 surances from Lord Cornwallis and Lord Clare, that it was the 
 intention of government, should the Union be carried, to propose 
 a general bill of indemnity as the first measure of the United 
 Parliament, in which bill the repeal of Lord Edward's attainder 
 should be incorporated. A change of ministry, however, taking 
 place before the meeting of the first Union Parliament, these con- 
 templated measures fell to the ground ; and though every suc- 
 ceeding Irish administration was friendly to the repeal, it was 
 deemed, expedient to defer applying for it till a general peace, 
 when a hope was held out that no obstacle would be interposed 
 to the exercise of the royal prerogative in recommending this act 
 of grace. 
 
 It had been the wish nearest the heart of the venerable mother 
 of Lord Edward to see the attaint removed from the blood of her 
 beloved son before she died ; and being denied this happiness, the 
 last injunction she laid upon Mr. Ogilvie was, that he should spare 
 no pains in accomplishing this, her darling object. The task 
 could not be placed in more efi&cient hands. Besides the sacred 
 ness of this last request, and the affectionate interest he had ever 
 taken in all that related to his favourite Edward, the resources of 
 this gentlernan's vigorous and well-informed mind fitted him 
 eminently for any task where there were difficulties to be sur- 
 mounted. 
 
 After the failure of the hope held out by Lord Clare, the acces- 
 sion of the Prince of Wales to the regency opened the first fair 
 
802 APPENDIX. 
 
 prospect of success for any application to the government on this 
 subject: his royal liighness having, in the most gracious manner, 
 assured the Dutchess of Leinster tliat ■• he would, as soon as he 
 had the power, recommend the repeal of the act of attainder."' 
 It does not appear, however, to have been till the year 1815 that 
 the performance of this promise was taken seriously into contem- 
 plation. The proposal of the repeal was then about to be brought 
 forward under the sanction of government, when, in consequence 
 of the relanding of Napoleon in France, it was thought advisable 
 by Lord Castlereagh that the measure should be postponed. 
 
 As soon as the excitement and alarm of this event had passed 
 away, IVIr. Ogilvie again renewed his application to the govern- 
 ment ; and in the ensuing year, the following appeal, marked 
 with all the noble simplicity of her fine character, was addressed 
 by Lady Louisa ConoUy to the Prince Regent : — 
 
 to his royal highness the prince regent, from lady 
 
 louisa conolly. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Your royal highnesses goodness to my family on many occa- 
 sions has invariably left a sense of gratitude on my part which 1 
 hope I am incapable of ever forgetting ; but in one instance (on 
 a very heart-breaking occasion), it was shown with such tender- 
 ness and benevolence of heart to my beloved sister Leinster, at the 
 unhappy period of 1798, that I cannot look back to it without 
 my heart fiUing at the recollection of the consolation that it 
 afforded her under the severe pressure of her grief, 
 
 " Your royal highness then told her that you would not forget 
 the little boy Edward ; he was not then four years old. She 
 thanked your royal highness, and happily lived to see that graci- 
 ous promise fulfilled by your royal highncss's appointment of him 
 to a commission in the 10th, where your royal highness"s coun- 
 tenance and- protection were sufiicient to silence the unpleasant 
 circumstances attached to his situation ; and I trust he has not 
 proved unworthy of that goodness which my dear sister was sen- 
 sible of to the last moment of her existence. She had but one 
 more object for that cherished grandson, who had succeeded his 
 unfortunate father in her affections, — and this was the repeal of 
 the attainder. Her heart was set upon it ; and she repeatedly 
 spoke to Mr, Ogilvie and me, should she not live to see it accom- 
 plished, never to lose sight of it. 
 
 •' In humble supplication, as her deputy, I now take the liberty 
 of addressing your royal highness, hoping that some circumstances 
 which I have to relate may not appear unworthy of attention. 
 The late Lord Clare, whose kindness I must ever bear the strongest 
 
APPENDIX. 303 
 
 testimony to, often told me that he thought the thing might be 
 done ; but after restoring the property (which the plea of debt 
 sanctioned him to do immediately), he advised the not agitating 
 the question of attainder until tlie Union would present a fair op- 
 portunity for bringing it forward. Lord Cornwallis and Lord 
 Clare both told me, that at the meeting of the first Union Parlia- 
 ment they ' expected the two countries to shake hands.' and to 
 bring in a general bill of indemnity for consigning to oblivion all 
 animosities. 
 
 " From a variety of circumstances, these hopes have not been 
 realized, and the attainder still remains on an innocent individual, 
 whose profession and principles, I can venture to say, place him 
 in the rank of a true, loyal subject, such as I hope he will ever be 
 considered by your royal highness, and that a gracious boon will 
 now remove the unmerited stains he still lies under. 
 
 •' The presumption of this address to your royal highness from 
 a person so long retired from the world as I have been, would be 
 an unwarrantable liberty if I did not trust to that indulgence of 
 character which, I am persuaded, will induce your royal highness 
 to forgive one wHo is, with most unfeigned respect, 
 
 '• Your royal highnesss truly grateful and 
 
 most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 " L. CONOLLY." 
 
 Again was the object of Mr. Ogilvie's anxious pursuit thwarted 
 and delayed ; nor was it till three years after, that chiefly through 
 the kind offices of Lord Liverpool, whose conduct on the occasion 
 reflects the highest honour upon him, he was able to efi'ect his 
 great object. In the year 1819, the attainder was repealed. The 
 reasons advanced on behalf of the petitioner on this occasion were 
 the same in substance with those brought forward in 1798 ; but 
 the following note from Lord Liverpool to Mr. Ogilvie contains 
 the two points on which the justice of the- case chiefly turned. 
 
 " Fife House, 24th June, 1819. 
 
 " Lord Liverpool presents his compliments to Mr. Ogilvie, and 
 is very desirous, upon communication with others, that it should 
 be stated in the preamble to the enclosed bill that Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald was not convicted of high treason upon trial during 
 his life, and that the bill of attainder originated and was passed 
 after his death. 
 
 '• Lord L. believes these facts to be true ; and, if they are, they 
 should be inserted in the preamble, in order that an inconvenient 
 precedent may not be made. 
 
 '• If Mr. Ogilvie will send Lord L. the bill altered as proposed, 
 he will then obtain the Prince Resrent's signature to it. which is 
 necessary previous to its being presented to the House of Lords. 
 
304 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The case of Gerald, ninth Earl of Kildare, was on this as on 
 the former occasion, referred to as an historical precedent for the 
 act of grace which the petitioner prayed for ; and the close par- 
 allel which (as I have already remarked at the beginning of this 
 work) is to be found between Lord Edward's story and that of his 
 unfortunate ancestor. Lord Thomas, is thus pointed out in one of 
 the documents prepared to be submitted to the House of Lords 
 in 1819. 
 
 The Case of Gerald, ninth Earl of 
 Kildare. 
 
 He had been for many years employed 
 by Henry YIU. as his deputy in Ireland. 
 B}^ his vigorous administration he had 
 made many enemies, who, by misrepre- 
 sentation, excited the king's jealousy ; 
 and he was called to England to answer 
 the chai-ges against him, which he did 
 when examined before the Privy Coun- 
 cil ; but he was committed to the Tow- 
 er to wait the king's pleasure. He died 
 in the Tower on the 12th December, 
 1534, and was buried in the chapel, as 
 appears by an inscription on his coffin 
 found many years afterward. 
 
 His death is said to have been caused 
 by grief at hearing that his son Thomas, 
 whom he had left his vice-deputy, had 
 been induced to resist Lord Gray, who 
 had been sent over by the king as his 
 deputy. 
 
 After various conflicts. Lord Thomas 
 was defeated and taken prisoner at Dro- 
 gheda, in 1535, b}' Lord Graj--, who sent 
 hira and his £i\"e uncles, two only of 
 whom had been in arms, to England. 
 They were tried, and all executed for 
 high treason on the 2d February, 1535. 
 And in a parliament held in Ireland in 
 1537, an act of attainder (2Sth Henry 
 Vlll. c. 1.) was passed agamst Gerald. 
 Earl of Kildare, his son Thomas, and 
 two of the uncles, and others. 
 
 Gerald, now eldest son of the late earl, 
 being pursued by the king, fled to the 
 continent, where he served under the 
 I)uke of Florence, and was eminently 
 distinguished. 
 
 On the death of Henry, he was recall- 
 ed by his son, Edward YL, and restored 
 to ail his family estates and honours. 
 
 In the 1st and 2d of Philip and JIary, 
 letters patent were issued renewing all 
 the grants made bj' Edward VI. and con- 
 firmed by an Irish act of parliament the 
 
 The Case of the late Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 Lord Edward entered into the army 
 during the American war, and served 
 under the Jklarquis Cornwallis, Lord 
 Rawdon, and General O'Hara, with great 
 distinction, having been promoted to 
 the rank of major in 1783 ; but in the 
 year 1792 was dismissed the service by 
 a letter from the secretarj-at-war. The 
 causes that led to this measure are known 
 to their royal highnesses the Prince Re- 
 gent and the Duke of York, and were of 
 a political nature. 
 
 In the month of March, 1798, foui'teen 
 individuals were arrested at a meeting 
 in Dublin, with their papers, by a gov- 
 ernment warrant, charged with treason- 
 able practices, and committed to prison : 
 and a proclamation was issued for ap- 
 prehending Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 charged as their accomplice. On the 
 25th of ^lay, Lord Edward was appre- 
 hended, after resistance, mortally wound- 
 ed, and committed to prison, where he 
 died of his wounds on the 4th of June. 
 About tliis period, insurrections had 
 taken place in several parts of Ireland, 
 which were suppressed bj' the kiug's 
 troops. And on the restoration of tran- 
 quillitj', two acts were passed by the 
 Irish parliament. The one, an act of 
 indemnity and pardon to the fourteen 
 ringleaders apprehended in JIarcli ; and 
 the other, an act of attainder against 
 the late Lord Edward, their associate, 
 and two other men Avho had been made 
 prisoners at the battle of Wexford, tried 
 by a court-martial, condemned, and ex- 
 ecuted. 
 
 Edward, only son, of Lord Edward, 
 was in his third year at the time of his 
 father's death. He was brought up by 
 his grandmother, the late Dutchess of 
 Leinster ; educated at Eton and Marlow; 
 and before the age of sixteen called to 
 his majesty's service by his royal high- 
 ness the Prince Regent, who appointed 
 him a cornet in his own regiment, in 
 which he serve i during the war in Por- 
 tugal, Spain, and France, till the peace 
 in 1814, honoured by the approbation of 
 
APPENDIX. 305 
 
 3d and 4th of Philip and Mary, c. 2, s. 5. the Duke of Wellington, and rewarded 
 And further, on a petition from Gerald, by his royal highness raising him to the 
 his brother, and sisters, to Queen Eliza- rank of captain in his own regiment be- 
 beth, to be restored to their blood, an fore he had attained the age of twenty- 
 act was passed by the parliainent of Ire- one. 
 
 land, the 11th of Elizabeth, session 4, Lord Edward's small property waa 
 
 c. 2, entitled, An Act to restore Gerald, mortgaged, the mortgagee foreclosed. 
 Earl of Kildare, his brother, and sisters The estate was sold in Chancery, and 
 to their blood. purchased for £10,500 by William Ogil- 
 
 vie, Esq., who has conveyed it to Capt 
 Fitzgerald, charged with £4,000 to his 
 two sisters. Captain Fitzgerald and hie 
 sisters have presented a petition to his 
 royal highness the Prince Regent, pray- 
 ing for an act of grace, which his royal 
 highness has been pleased to receive 
 graciously, and to recommend to the 
 Earl of Liverpool. 
 
 The prayer of the petition is, to re- 
 commend to parliament to pass a bill 
 similar to the 11th Elizabeth, session 4 
 c. 2, to restore Captain Edward Fitzger- 
 ald and his sisters to their blood. 
 
 The conduct of the Prince Regent, in recommending this act 
 of generous justice, received for its reward two as flattering and 
 honourable tributes as sovereign has ever won from independent 
 minds ; namely, a declaration from Lord Holland, in the House 
 of Lords, "that it was the act of a wise, gracious, and high- 
 minded prince ] " and the following laudatory verses from the pen 
 of Lord Byron : — 
 
 Id be the father of the fatherless. 
 
 To stretch the hand from the throne's height, and raise 
 
 His offspring who expired in other daj-s. 
 To make thy sire's sway by a kingdom less, — 
 This is to be a monarch, and repress 
 
 Envy into unutterable praise. 
 
 Dismiss thy guard, and trust thee to such traits, 
 For who would lift a hand except to bless ? 
 
 Were it not eas}% sir, and is't not sweet 
 
 To make thyself beloved ? and to be 
 
 Omnipotent by mercy's means? for thus 
 Thy sovereignty would grow but more eomplete, — 
 
 A despot thou, and yet thy people free, 
 
 And by the heart, not hand, enslaving us. "^ 
 
 It had been my intention, from among the papers which the 
 kindness of several friends has intrusted to me, to select a good 
 many more illustrative of the general state of Ireland during 
 the period to which the chief part of this work refers. The 
 documents relating, however, to the attainder, have occupied so 
 much space as to leave no room but for the two letters that 
 follow. 
 
306 APPENDIX. 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER * TO THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES FOX. 
 
 '• An opportunity of sending you a letter by a private hand 
 happens to occur, and I take advantage of it, my dear Charles, 
 merely to indulge myself in the satisfaction of conversing with 
 you, sans gene, upon the present state of politics in both countries, 
 as they affect each individual now too nearly not to make poUti- 
 cians of us all. I certainly care most about Ireland, for whose 
 salvation 1 had a gleam of hope when it was with good reason 
 known to our family that the prince's coming over, was in the bal- 
 ance for a moment. Had it taken place, the ^clat of his situation, 
 manners, and good will would have served for an excuse to many, 
 and a reason to others, to join an administration that was inde- 
 pendent of Pitt, and had Lord Moira for minister, whose honour 
 is too strict not to win over millions to trust him , and • there is 
 a tide in the affairs of men which,' &c. &c. 
 
 '• Such a period we had, and it is lost 5 but still I vainly flatter- 
 ed myself it would be resumed (though late and less effectually) 
 when the M. grew frightened at the blackening storm ; but now 
 I despair of success in that line, for the prince seems to have 
 caught the royal distemper ; unsteady weakness seizes- him at the 
 most important instant of his life, and he timidly withdraws from 
 the active scene the times had so evidently pointed out to him. 
 This appears from the papers saying ' the prince withdrew when 
 the question was put/ — for L know nothing else as yet of the 
 cause, and am anxiously hoping it may be better explained ; but 
 now it is a mere milk-and-water conduct; and not only because 
 the happy moment is lost do I regret it, but who can hereafter 
 depend on his steadiness 1 What a prospect to us all who hate 
 a republic as a bad government for these kingdoms, and because 
 we know that even absolute monarchy is better, and a lunited 
 monarchy just what is best of all for us. What are we to do ? 
 Are we to tight for a cause the head of which won't support 
 itself I And yet — what an alternative ! — must we join rebels 
 and republicans, quite, quite contrary to our feelings and senti- 
 ments .' No, surely. What then ? We must fall the martyrs 
 to our principles and our opinions with our eyes open. I'his is 
 
 * In this letter, her ladyship, it will be seen, had no further share than that of 
 acting as amauuensis to her husband. 
 
 There is no date to the letter, but it must have been written shortly after the 
 expedition of the French to Bantry Bay ; at which time, Plowden .-ays, ••Catliulic 
 eniaucipation and temperate reform were again confideutiaUy spoken of ; and Lord 
 Camdeii, whose administration was pledged to resisx these two questions, it wa-^ 
 generally expected would immediaiely resign. These flattering prospects were eji- 
 couraged by the then prevailing reports that the Prince of Vv'ales had olfered his 
 services to the king to go to Ireland in quality of lord lieutenant, with Lord Moira 
 as commander-in-chief. The power of the Irish junta, however, prevailed ; the 
 system of coercion preponderated ; and the oiler even of the heir-apparent to the 
 crown to attempt the conciliation of the Irish people was rejected." 
 
APPENDIX. SOT 
 
 sad ; but I, for my own part, feel it a necessary duty to myself 
 never to swerve from what I think right because it's convenient. 
 If all Britain insisted on a republic like France, then I would not 
 oppose them, though I would never join ; but if only a part do, 
 then civil war must exist, and includes all misery, to honest men 
 first, and to rogues in the end. This is my creed ; consequently, 
 I lament from my heart and soul the failure of the princes cour- 
 age, for s'il avoit de l etoffe much might still be made of it. 1 like 
 him, nay, love him so much, I hate to think him wrong ; but 1 
 cannot be blind to the errors of my dearest friends, though I can 
 forgive them ; and if it is true, where else are we to look for a 
 plan of support for this poor country ! For God's sake, dear 
 Charles, think of it more seriously than just to make it a parlia- 
 mentary debate. Plan something, and plan in time. I am sure 
 there are many people willing, and a few able, to try to put it 
 into force ; but here all is a chaos of self-interest, spite, distrust, 
 and no plan whatever. 
 
 '• Yet a plan might be made use of to strike all parties with its 
 merits. The trial at least would be made, and, if it failed, your 
 mind would receive comfort from having attempted the salvation 
 of a whole people by trying to avert a civil war. By a plan I 
 mean you to point out what should be done and undone, and 
 who sho-uld do it. 1 know that a very sensible plan of this sort 
 was written, and sent to the prince ; but it is too vague, and, be- 
 sides, I so well know its author, that one day he is be-chancellor'd, 
 another be-Ponsonby'd, another persuaded to believe every thing 
 by a third party, and so on ; from such vacillation, what plan can 
 be attended to ? I know there must be une bonne bouc/ie pour 
 chaqiie cliefj car tout homme a son prix: — show will do for some, 
 vanity for others, a secret for a third, a job for a fourth, honour 
 for a fifth, and doing good is a sure loadstone to all men of prin- 
 ciple, if you can convince them it is do-able, which truly, in these 
 times, requires your genius to discover, your eloquence to per- 
 suade. But if you are really persuaded that if such and such en- 
 gines could all move together it would save Ireland, why not try ? 
 1 have no opinion whatever of any politicians here (by-the-way, 
 when I am such an egotist, pray understand that 1 speak the 
 opinions of wiser heads than mine, in my own name, for sh(jrt- 
 ness ; for J, individual I, am nobody in this letter). Government 
 people are so Pitted, that they've the insolence to say, ' Yes. it's 
 all very true, we are undone, and by our own faults; but now the 
 case is so desperate, you see there is but one remedy, to join hand 
 and heart fairly to rescue us from the impending ruin, tor to find 
 fault now is only increasing the evil.' In short, the plain Eng 
 lish is, ' I ruined you, 1 lied, and cheated you; but trust me again, 
 and I will try to save you, though I own I don't see how.' You 
 know the answer to that between individuals would be a kick, 
 
308 APPENDIX. 
 
 tout uniment, and a new man taken (and, methinks, Mr. Pitt is 
 
 getting it) ; but here we have nobody fit to give the kick, though 
 
 plenty fit to take it. 
 
 * * 44- * * * * 
 
 '• Our near connexions would do very well as kings with vice- 
 roys over them, for that's their foible ; they like to be thought 
 the leaders, but both equally dread to be so, because they feel 
 themselves unequal to it, and wont own it ; but both love you, 
 and would delight to follow you. if they understood you. But 
 the difficulty is to prevent their falling into the mistakes their 
 soi-djsant friends wished to lead them into. In short, opposition 
 is (to apply the old allusion), 'a perfect rope of sand.' As to the 
 great men of power, all is centred in the chancellor, the speaker, 
 and the secretary. As for poor dear Lord Camden, c'est la bon- 
 homme person/Jie, but as he has no will of his own, he can never 
 do here. The C. and S. are the very devil in obstinacy about the 
 Catholics, and will never shrink ; all the rest of their tribe would 
 kiss your toe, even if you were in power to-morrow, and of course 
 would ki.ss the pope"s if it suited them. Lord Charlemont would 
 be glad of an excuse to relinquish his former anti-catholic vio- 
 lence at least — in every thing else he is right. The Beresfords, 
 like moles, would work underground, but a few civil things and 
 a few places would cool them. In short, if a plan was formed, 
 and known only to Lord iSIoira, who is the lord lieutenant I want, 
 and to a very, very few indeed besides him, and if it was suddenly 
 to be put into execution, it would so amaze the United Irishmen 
 that half their forces would insensibly leave them : for, I believe 
 you may rely on it, that it is only because government has driven 
 them to the brink, that they wish to jump in, and that they would 
 rejoice to have ample room to recover from the danger. As for 
 all dirty placemen and runners, I would make main basse of them 
 all, even if you picked them up hereafter ; they should do pen- 
 ance first ; and the few honourable and good placemen 1 know, 
 of which there do exist a few, would gladly join you, and serve 
 you well, if your advice came through the medium of such a man 
 as Lord Moira to enforce it. 
 
 " There must soon happen some crisis here. Our king sends 
 millions to slaughter, and yet Ave cannot, in common sense wish 
 his crown to fall and to belong to a republic of tyrants, as all re- 
 publics are. Our prince, whose eyes are open to the impending 
 danger, says he will try to save us, and shrinks at the moment he 
 ought to act. The ministers drive us to perfect ruin in England, 
 and rebellion here ; and Avhen they are detected, and driven from 
 their power, you, to whose honest conduct and good sense the 
 power will devolve, will complete our destruction by leaving such 
 dangerous animals loose among us, to Avork up democracy to its 
 maddest state, to head their party, and hurl the king and the royal 
 
APPENDIX. 309 
 
 family from the throne, and sacrifice your life because you saved 
 theirs. Perhaps you will say, ' I grant this, but I had rather they 
 were murderers than 1. 1 will do my duty, and, if I fall, I can- 
 not help it." But, dearest Charles, think well what is the duty of 
 the minister of a great country. Is justice to be out of the ques- 
 tion 1 is the example given to future ministers, not to lavish the 
 lives, fortunes, and happiness of subjects, to go fur nothing ? and 
 are not a few lives better to sacritice than millions of innocent 
 persons ? Weigh this well, and do not undertake being minister, 
 if you have not firmness to do all its duties. Perhaps you think 
 me bloody-minded, — 1 do not feel myself so, when 1 see, on one 
 hand, four or five men tried, condemned, and iKecuted, by the 
 most fair trial, and on the other, a field of battle,. a country burned 
 and wasted with fire, sword, and famine." These are serious 
 times, full of events, and you should poise your conduct with 
 them. 
 
 '• To return to Ireland : I hope you know that nobody can be 
 beheved about its state, for everybody is more or less deceived by 
 the United Irishmen, — c'est un bruit soard, mais sw\ and all that 
 we can rely on is that it exists. To form a calculation from the 
 ditferent accounts I hear, — I leave out all reports from the clergy, 
 from the magistrates, from government people, — I only reckon the 
 reports of military men of reason on the facts that have come 
 before them, and thus it stands. In the North about 70,000 men, 
 chiefly armed with pikes, many muskets and guns, some ammuni- 
 tion, a captain, lieutenant, and sergeant to each troop or district, 
 who report to private committees, and they to the general com- 
 mittee at Belfast. As soon as any are suspected, they oifer them- 
 selves as yeomen, take the oath of allegiance, and are quiet. 
 Parties of banditti are employed to collect arms and annoy peo- 
 ple ] if they fall, it's no loss ; if they bring them, it's a gain. Th& 
 Catholics of the South are desirous to avail themselves of the 
 times to abohsh tithes and nothing else ; the Presbyterians of the 
 North look to more. Reform is the handle and much too plausi- 
 ble to be condemned ; but how is it possible any persons in their 
 senses can expect an efficacious or just reform to a^rrive in an in- 
 stant upon an insurrection, unless it was planned, and in the hands 
 of a set of men whose abihties, power, and riches could give them 
 weight ? No such set seems to exist. There is not one military 
 genius among them (I don't except even O'Connor's friend, who 
 knows less than he is supposed to do). That you will say is easily 
 got from France, which is fertile in them ; but a stranger will make 
 no figure with the Paddies at home, for every Paddy will direct, 
 and not one obey , so that I do not all despair of conquering the 
 Monskeers and the 70,000 Paddies all at unce, if we had but a 
 general of sense, instead of forty without it, — or rather a general 
 that the troops loved and trusted 3 and I know none so fit for that 
 
310 APPENDIX. 
 
 as Lord Moira, who would lead them to certain conquest, if we 
 ever have the misfortune to want to fight our own countrymen. 
 But, L repeat it again and again, his name would disarm the iSorth, 
 and he can never come in any way but as lord lieutenant, or min- 
 ister to the prince, commander-in-chief under him alone. Why 
 did you let the Duke of York get such false notions about the 
 Catholics ^ for, if he was right about them, he would do here, 
 though not near so well as the prince. Give us but a showy ro3'al 
 lord lieutenant for the mob, and Lord Moira for the business, and 
 we will soon find the men and the money in Ireland to save it, 
 and we wont ask you for one Englishman. A few Scotch regi- 
 ments are usef«l, because they are so very steady, manageable, 
 and active; but Paddy wants only an example of good discipline 
 to follow it, — if their ofiicers would let them, whose fault all irre- 
 gularity is, — for the men are excellent ; biit a commander-in-chief 
 who knew his business would soon set that to rights. Adieu. I 
 dare not make the smallest attempt to excuse what is, [ believe, 
 inexcusable, for I have let my imagination run on to suppose you 
 a magician, who have only to wave your wand, and bring us 
 peace and happiness." 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 "1797 
 ******* 
 
 " Tn summer last, upon government finding that an invasion 
 was probable, they began to consider what defence might be ne- 
 cessary. Lord Carhampton is our neighbour, and without living 
 much together, we have every intercourse of neighbourly society, 
 and Colonel Napier has taken a great liking to him, because he' is 
 a plain-dealing, frank character, and extremely active and good- 
 natured in doing justice to all about him. He is an unpopular 
 man, and has been cruelly injured in his character, in the very 
 instance where he deserved the highest praise. From his talking 
 a good deal to Colonel Napier, the sentiments of the latter never 
 were one moment a secret from Lord Carhampton, — and it is re- 
 quisite to explain this before I tell you, that, in the month of Au- 
 gust last, Lord Carhampton, meeting Colonel Napier in the 
 streets, said, ' You are the very man I want :' then, taking him in 
 private^ gave a full account of the state of Ireland, saying, 
 ' What we want is a man of science, of judgment, of honour, and 
 honesty, and who will not allow of jobs, to examine the country, 
 and tell us what places are fittest to strengthen, how to do it, what 
 it will cost without a job, and still less without absurd savings in 
 things of importance ; and a man whose perseverance will see the 
 thing concluded as it ought. You are the very man to do all this; 
 but you have such scruples and delicacies about men and places, 
 
APPENDIX. 311 
 
 that we must understand one another first. Take notice, it is no 
 favour we do you. it is ijoa do us one, for we want such men as 
 you. If you will undertake this, you. will have the cominuii pay, 
 and your expenses paid.' Colonel Napier instantly answerevl, 
 ' Nothing is so easy as to understand me : first. I feel excessively 
 flattered, and obliged to your lordship, for the manner of this 
 otFer, and. whatever comes of it. I shall always be grateful for the 
 confidence you repose in me ; as to politics, you know I hold Mr. 
 Pitt to be the bane of his country, and of course could never utter 
 a falsehood and praise him ; but never did I for a moment hesitate 
 to follow the duties of my profession, which i hold too high by far 
 ever to subject them to political opinions. The (country, you say, 
 is in danger. I am ready and happy to serve it, if in my power. 
 I want no place or emolument, and, if you choose it, I will go 
 directly to such places as you point out, and make my report to 
 you. for your private use.' ' Oh no,' cried Lord Carhamptou, ' I 
 want to employ you : it is a shame such a man should not be em- 
 ployed in these times, when they are so much wanted. Blay I 
 name you to the lord-lieutenant T — • Will you be so kind as to 
 give me a short time, to write over for leave from the Duke of 
 Vork ? As there is no actual fighting here, he might think I wished 
 to evade the West Indies, and 1 hold it my duty to avoid no service 
 whatever ; and, being under his command, I wish to write.' • Do 
 so.' It was done, and Lord Carhampton, who was at that time 
 getting himself made commander-in-chief (unknown to us), was 
 some time before he sent for Colonel Napier. When he did, it 
 appeared that the adjutant-general here, a very remarkable good 
 oiticer, had, without letting us know of it, proposed Colonel Napier 
 as a most useful officer to government : and, when the difl'erent 
 people each found their protege to be one and the same person, 
 you will allow it was a flattering way thus se trouver siir les rangs 
 sans le savoir. The moment the French fleet was seen, of course 
 he sent in his name to ask for service, and was ordered to head- 
 quarters, where he was trusted, consulted, and employed. His 
 nature is such, that the idea of service animates him, and wholly 
 absorbs his thoughts, in order to leave nothing undone or uu- 
 thought of that may be necessary. Vv'henone sees a person. very 
 dear to one appearing in their element, — all activity in a good 
 and useful cause,— don't you, dear brother, comprehend the spirit 
 it gives one 1 1 declare I forgot it was vjar ; I only thought it 
 was duty, and not a cloud came across me, to check, his ardour 
 in the occupation he was engaged in of calculating the things ab- 
 solutely wanted to take the field and defend posts. In the midst 
 of all this, what was our astonishment to find Lord Carhampton 
 fly out into the most petulent. peevish attack on Colonel Napier, 
 for saying, in the course of conversation, that ' the war was ca- 
 lamitous and ruinous.' Every soul was in amazement at the 
 
312 APPENDIX. 
 
 strangeness of the attack, and glad to hear Colonel Napier show 
 the proper spirit of a man conscious of his own integrity, loyalty, 
 and honour. Indeed, to do Lord Carhampton justice, he seemed 
 sorry he had given way to this moment d'humeur, for at first we 
 thought it nothing else ; and, thinking so, Colonel Napier told 
 him fairly, that, as his want of confidence put an end to all plea- 
 sure in serving under him, he should undoubtedly resign his place, 
 at any other period, but, with an enemy on our coasts, it was no 
 time to allow private feelings to interfere, and he should do his 
 duty without pleasure equally well as with it — but certainly with- 
 out fay, and would take nothing for it. Here it might have 
 ended ; — Colonel Napier would have gone, and returned soon, and 
 nothing more said ; but, for some reason, still a mystery, though 
 nearly guessed at by us, the next day Lord Carhampton sent for 
 him, and changing his ground entirely, put it on the most curious 
 reasoning, of which the following is the meaning : — ' I, command- 
 er-in-chief, acknowledging that your merit as an officer may be 
 of essential service, respecting you in my private capacity to the 
 highest degree, do notwithstanding decline recommending you 
 for service in the north, — but not in the south, where I request you 
 to go with me ; and my reason is, that you say conciliatory mea- 
 sures are preferable to coercion there, and will answer the purpose ; 
 and therefore I should affront Lord Londonderry and Lord Castle- 
 reagh, by sending an officer to any part of the north that held a 
 language different from theirs. Not that I doubt your loyalty the 
 least, but ive are determined to use coercion only. Consider 1 am only 
 an insignificant part of an administration, and must follow their 
 system.' This was so true, that what could Colonel Napier do, 
 but bow and assent to his lordship's assertion of his own insignifi- 
 cance 1 and there it ended." 
 
 END. 
 
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