. ~ __ c —_ —- 2 ) / C, " ) /:" /, / / 7',-' //' /. -~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Y~~~~~~:.::,,..,tJ..-.......::;:::' ". 4i:; THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE J-OHN PHILPOT CURRAN LATE MASTER OF THE ROLLS IN IRELAND BY HIS SON WILLIAM HENRY CURRAN IWITH ADDITIONS AND NOTES BY R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, D.C.L. NEW YORK: W. J. WIDDLETON, PUBLISHER. EDITOR'S PREFACE. JOHN PHILPOT CUBRBN, one of the truest patriots and greatest men ever native of Irish soil, was the centre of the sparkling wits, the renowned orators, th triiiliant advocates, and the honored statesmen who flashed upon the darkness of his country's latest hours of freedom, and vainly endeavored to maintain the national independence which they had achieved for her. His life is identified with the latest years of Ireland's nationality. He manifested an independence as advocate for the accused, during the State Trials, which mndeared him to the people from whose ranks he sprung. To use the words of Thomas Davis (who resembled him in many things), he was " a companion unrivalled in sympathy and wit; an orator, whose thoughts went forth like ministers of nature, with-robes of light and swords in their hands; a patriot, who battled best wnen the flag Was trampled down; and a genuine earnest man, breathing of his climate, his country, and his time." He has been fortunate in his biographers. The life by his Son (who is yet living), contains materials which were inaccessible to other writers. Also came a volume of Recollections by Charles Phillips, who knew him well in his later years —a work which, greatly enlarged, was republished a few years ago, with all the charm of novelty. L.ater still appeared the Memoir, Vi PREFACF. by Thomas Davis, prefixed to his edition of Curran;s Speeches-a brilliant but brief tribute by one honest and gifted man to the worth and memory of another. Anterior to all these is the Memoir, by William O:Regan (the friend and contemporary of Curran, and often engaged with him in the same causes),' written during Curran's lifetrime; with his knowledge, f not with his direct -sanction, and published within six weeks after his deatha book little known, but full of interesting personal details, and abounding with anecdotal and other illustrations of Curran's wit. It appeared to me that there was sufficient in the career and character of Curran to interest not on!y the members of his own profession but a large number, of general readers in this country. I have therefore taken the life by his Son,-and without alteratio.i or omissions, have introduced a large quantity of new natter, principally relating to his legislative and personal. life. These additions will be found between brackets, and, with th thnotes which I hays occasionally found it requisite to add, have; made -the Memoir more full of interest than any yet presented. In the Appendix I have placed a few specimens ot,he wit with which Curran -and his friends were wont "to set the table in a roar." The portrait which embellishes this work is a- characteristic likeness, by Comerford, of Dublin, now for the first time engraved in this country, and little known even in Irela::d. R. SHELTON MACKENZIE. Yew' York, lekptmber- 20,1855. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Mr. Curran's origin-His parents -Early education-Originally intended!or the ChurchEnters Trinity College-His ardour for the classics-Letter to Mr. Stack-Anecdote of nis Mother-Her Epitaph-While in College fixes on the Bar-Anecdote connected with the change of Profession —His character in College-Addicted to Metaphysics-Anecdote on the subject-Verses to Apjohn.............................. - 1 CHAPTER II. Mr. Curran leaves College-Enters the Middle Temple-Letter to Mr. Weston-Letter to Ir,. Keller- His first attempts in Oratory fail-His own account of the failure, and of -his first success-A regular attendant at Debating Clubs-Anecdotes-His Poem on Friendship-Dr. Creagh's character of him —Mr. Hudson's predictions and friendshipHis early manners and habits-Subject to constitutional melaneo:oly-Letters from London-His society in London-Anecdote of his interview with Macklin-His early application and attainments-Favorite authors-Eariy attachment to the Irish peasantry-His marriage —Remarks upon the English Law.......................... 17 CHAPTER III. Mr. Curran called to the Irish Bar-Dissimilarities between that an(' tle English Bar — Causes of the Difference......................................... 58 CHAPTER IV. Mr. Curran's early success at the bar —His contest with Judge Robipson-His defence of a Roman Catholic.priest-Itis duel with Mr. St. Leger-:-Receives the dying benediction of the priest-Lord Avonmore's friendship —His character of Lord Avonmore-Monks of St. Patrick, and list of the original members-Anecdotes of Lord Avonmore-Mr. Curran's entrance: Into Parliament........ -................... 69 viii CONTENTS. C.HAPTER V. Xhe Irish Houie of Commons, in 1788-Sketch of the prev'rous history of Ireland-Effects of the revolution of 1688 Catholic penal code-System of governing Ireland-Described by.Mr. Csrran-Intolerance and degradation of the Irish parliament-Change of sys. tem-Octennial bill-American revolutio6n —-1. e ffects upo- Ireland-The Irish volunteers-Described by Mr. Curran-Their numbers, and infitrnce upon public measures -Irish revolution of 1782-Mr. Grattrn's public services-Observations upon the subsequent conduct of the Irish parliament...................8................, 87 OHA:PT ER YVI. -/I~. Lio0&s Li an of Parliamentary Reform —,lr. Curran's contest-and dre, with Mr. Fitsgiobna (afterwards Lord Clare)-Spe.ch on Pensions-His professional success —Mode of life-Occasionarl verses —Visits.' rance —Letters from Dieppe ana Rouen-Anecdo'e —;Letters from;aris-Anecdote-Letter from Mr. Boyst —Anecdote of Mr. Boyse-Lettere from Holland,............,.,............... 106 CHAPTER VII. B.'s Majesty's illness-Communicated to the House of Commons —Mr. Curran's speech upon the Address-Regency q estion-Formation of the Irish Whig opposition-Mr. Curran's speech and motion upon the division of the boards of stamps and accountsAnswered by Sir Boyle Roche-Mr. Curranis reply-Correspondence and duel with Major Hobart-Effects of Lord Clare's enmity —Alderman -Howison's case. 134 CHAPTER VIII. State of parties-Trial of Hamilton Rowan —Mr. Curran's fidelity to his party-lRev. William Jackson's Trial, Conviction, and Death-Remarks upon that Trial-.Irish Informers-Irish Juries —The irf uence of the times upon Mr. Curran's style of Oratory............................................................... 166 CHAPTER IX. Catholic Emancipation-.Mr. Curran moves an address to the Throne fora: inquiry into the state of the poor-Other Parliamentary questions-Mr. Ponsonby's plan of Reform rejected-Secession of Mr. Curran and his friends-Orr's trial-Finnerty's trial-2Finncy's Trial-The informer, James O'Brien................................... 195 I.e 19 CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. Rebe:llovn of 1798-Its causes-, Unpopular: system' of Government-Influence of, the, French revolution —-Increased.ntelllgence in Ireland —Reform societies-United Irishmnen-Their views and proceedings-Apply for aid to France-Anecdote oqf Theobald Wolfe Tone-Numbe:s of the United Irishmen-Condition of the peasantry and conduct of the aristocracy-Measures of the'GoteTnment —Publio alarm —eneral insurrection...........................................234 tion-..........-........... CHAPTER XI. Trial of Henry and John Sheares.............,.....55 CHAPTER XII. Trials of M'Cann, Byrne, and Oliver Bond-Reynolds the informer —Lord Edward 7itzgerald-Hi. attainder-Mr. Curran's conduct upon the State Trials-Lord Kilwarden's friendshiip-Lines addressed by Mr. Curran to Lady Charlotte Rawdon-Theohaldd Wowy Tone —His trial and death....;.;.......:.. ~...298 CHAPTER XIII. Effects of the Legislative Union upon Mr.'Citiran's mind-Speech in Tandy's case-Speech in. behalf of Hevey-Allusion in the latter to Mr. Godwin —Mutual friendship of Mr. Curran and Mr. Godwin.................... 818 CH OHAPTERi -X I.V;'Mr. Curran visits Paris-Letter to his son-Insurrection of 1803 —Defence of KirwanDeath of Lord Kilwarden-Intimacy of Mr. Robert Emmett in Mr. Curran's family, and its consequences-Letter from Mr. Emmett to Mr. Curran —Letter from the same to Mr. Richard Curran........... 888 CHAPTER XV. Mr. Curran's domestic affairs-Forensic efforts-Appointed Master of the Rolls in Ireland -His literary projects-Letter to Mr. M'Nally-Account of a visit to Scotland~in a letter to Miss Philot —Letter'o Mr. Leslie-Letters to Mr. Hetherington.............. 85T OCHAPTER XVI,. Mr. Ourran is invited to stand for the borough of Newry-Speech to the electors-Letter to Sir J. Swinburne-Letter on Irish affairs to H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex...... 896 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Curran's health declines-Letters to Mr. Hetherington-Resignation c his judicital office-Letters from London to Mr. Lube-Letters from Paris to the same —His last Illness and death.................................... 41f CHAPTER XVIII. Observations on Mr. Curran's Eloquence-Objections to his Style considered-His habits of preparation for Public Speaking-His Ideas of Popular Eloquence-Fis PathosVariety of his powers-His Imagination-Peculiarity of his Images-His use of Ridicule -Propensity to Metaphr —Irish eloquence-Its origin-Mr. Curran's and Burke's eloquence compared................................. 466 CHAPTER XIX. Mr. Curran's skill in. cross-examination-His general reading —His conversation — is wit-Manuscript thoughts on various subjects-His manners-Person-Personal peculiarities-Conclusion...................... 49 APPENDI-X. Anecdotes of Curran and his friends..,.................................... it LIFE OF THE RIGHT HON. JOHN PHILPOT CU1RRAN. C II A P T'E R I. Mr. Curran's origin-His parents -Early education-Originally intended for the ChurchEnters Trinity College —His ardour for the classics-Letter to Mr. Stack-Anecdote of his Mother —Her Epitaph-While in Cohe!ge fixes on the Bar-Anecdote connected with the change of Profession-His character in College-Addicted to Metaphysics-Anecdote on the subject-Verses to Apl.jan. JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN was born on the 24th day of July, 1750, at Newmarket, an obscure town of the count'y of Cork, in Ireland.* In several accounts that have been published of his origin and advancement, it, has, by a general consent, been asserted that the one was very low and the other unassisted; that he was the sole architect of his own fortune, and the sole collector of the materials which were wc raise it; and lovers of the marvellous implicitly believed and repeated the assertion. Let not, however, the admirers of what i. rarc, be offended at being told, that, no matter how much praise may Lbe due to his personal inerit (and the allowance unquestionably should not be scanty), a portion must still be given to the institutions of his country, and to those relatives and friends whose industry and protection placed himn in a condition of sharing their advantages. It is of far more importance to the intellectual interests of men to diffuse a rational confidence in the * Newmarket is eight miles distant from the dismantled castle of Kilcolulan, where Spencer -is said to have composed his " Faery Queen." —M. 2 LIFE OF CURRAN. efficacy of instruction, than idly to excite their wonder, and perhaps their despair, by insinuating that there are persons who, by nature, are above it. It is not by hearing that the subject of the following pages was a heaven-taught, unaided genius, that others can be encouraged to emulate his mental excellencies, but by learning the real, and to him no less creditable fact, how.he studied and struggled-what models he selected-what deficiencies he corrected —by what steps he ascended; to tell this is the duty of his biographer, and not to amaze his readers by urninstructive panegyric. The lowness* of his origin has been mitch exaggerated. His father, James Curran, Who has eban:represeaited as an unlettered peasant, was Seneschal of a manor court at Newmarket.t It is confidently asserted, by those who knew him, that he possessed a mind -and acquirernents above his station, that he was familiar with the Greek and Roman classic s, which -he often cited in con*:When Mr.:Cui'ran had risen to eminenee,:many tables -of his pedigree were sent him, all -of them varying, and the most of them, he conceived, too flattering to be authentic. Among his papers is the latest of these, tendered to hliwn while he was Master of'the Rolls, and made out by-a resident (f his riatite pla.ee. In the pstei.nal lite it ascends no higher.than his -grandfather, who is stated -to have been "a north-countryman, of the county Derry, from which, having met with disappointments, he came and settled in the county Coork:" it adds,: that " his only son, Mr. Ciutrans father, was educated at a school in Newemarket, then kept by the Rev. Mri'. Dallis, and afterwards by the Rev. Mr. Morduck, by whom he was considered the best Greek and Latin svholar in their school." In the F maternal line, it presents a long list of ancestors, among whom are judges, bishops, and ndblemeth; but'Mr. Curran has marked:his incredulity or his indifference by indors. ing this paper with " Stemmata quid faciunt." -Some other pedigrees derived his descent, from the English family of COurwen in Cumher'and. —-C. [o'Regan, whowas Curran's con — temporary, and long on the most intimate termns with him, says that the family was " of an English, stock, transplanted from: one of the northern, counties, and encouraged to settle in that part of Ireland, under the protection of the highly respectable family. or the All*orth's, *hori'etain considerable landed e.: ttes there to: the present time, acqUired after the fall of the-Desmonds.5' Phillips says, that the paternal ancestor of the Curran family came over to Ireland one of CUomweli's soldiers, " and the most ardent patriot she ever had owed his oiigin: to' her most merea"t::s aid' eruel' plundierer!" —Mi;]t Thb -emoluments of the o~iCe wet * ery' small. The-Aldworth -estates at.Newmarket (formerly belonging to the Irish family or clan of the McAuliffes) consisted of'82,000 acres..As Seneschal, James Curran had jurisdiction to the value of forty shillings: and thus was —a Judge! —M. sM- MOTSEM 3 versation; that he delighted in disputation, and excelled in it; and, among his other favorite subjects of discussion, it is still remembered, that, after his son's return from colleg., the old man was frequently to be found in ardent contention with him upon the metaphysical doctrines of Locke.* His:mother, whose maiden name was Philpot, belonged to -a family well known and:respected, and of which the descendants continue in the class of gentry. She was a woman of a strong original understanding, and of admitted superiority, in the circles where she moved.t In her latter years, the ~t.lebrity of her son rendered her an object of additional attention and scrutiny; and the favorers of the opiuiou that talent is hereditary, thought they could discover, in the bursts of irregular eloquence that esca|l.,s her, the first visible g-si4iinfg of the stream, which, expanding as it descended, at length attained a force and grandeur that incited the admirer to explore its source. This persuasion Mr. Curran himself always fondly cherished-" The only inheritance," he used to say, "that I could boast of from my poor father, was the very scanty one of an unattractive face and person like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to me something more valuable than face or person, or than ea.rt!tly wealth, it was that another and a dearer parent gave her child a portion from the treasure of her mind." He attributed much of his subsequent fortune to the earlv influence of such a mother; and to his latest hour would dwell with grateful recollection upon the wise counsel, upon the lessons of honourabie:ambition, and of sober, masculine piety, *-Phillips-says, 4"dcl James Curran's education was pretty much in the ratio of his' income." Thoc.-.a Davis says that Curran's father had learned reading, writing, cyphering, and, 1E is oiaid, some Greek and Latin. —M. -t " ".ree was of gentle blood, and what is more to our purpose, she had a deep, fresh, womanly, irregular mind; it was like the clear river [the Avenda:a] of her town, that came gushing and flashing and discoursing from the lonely mountains-from the outlaw's and the fairy's home-down-to-the village. She had, under an exalted piety, a waste of passions and traditions lying grand and gloomy in her soul, and thence, a bright, human love of her son, came pouring out on him, and making him grow green at her feet."Dive. LIFE OF GCURA~. which she enforced upon the minds of her children. She was not without her reward, she lived to see the dearest of them surpassing every presage, and accumulating public honors upon a namc, which she, in her station, had adorned by her virtues. John Philpot, the eldest of their sons,* having given very early indications of an excellent capacity, the Rev. Nathaniel Boyse, the resident clergyman at Newmarket, pleased with the boy, and moved by regard for his parents, received him into his house, and by his own personal tuition initiated him in the rudiments of classical learning. This, his first acquired friend and instructor, had also the satisfaction of seeing all his care repaid by the rapidity with which its object ascended to distinction, and still moro by the unceasing gratitude with which he ever after remembered the patron of his childhood. Many of this gentleman's letters to him, written at a subsequent period, remain,; and it is not unpleasing to observe in them the striking revolution that a few years had effected in the fortunes of his pupil. In some of them the little villager, whom he had adopted, is seen exalted into a senator, and is solicited by his fornner protector to procure the enactment of a statute that might relieve himself and all of the clergy fiolm the vexations of the tythelaws. The rapid progress that he made under the;!:structions of Mr. Boyse, and the fond predictions of his pare!..., determined them to give their sdn, what has alwtays been a prevailing object of parental ambition in Ireland, a learned education. It was also their wish, which he did not oppose at the time, tihat he should eventually enter the church. FWith this view he was soon transferred to the free-school of Middleton, upon which occasir,,- Ilis generous friend insisted upon resigning a particular ecclesiastical emolument (in value 101. a year) for the purpose of partly defraving the expenses of his young favorite's studies.t He remained * Mr. Curran had three brothers and a sister, all of who -;''e s-rived. + O'Regan says that he was "transplanted" to the s-hool of Middleton, by Mhrs HI CHILD)OCD. a at this scho.ol until ILe had attained the preparatory knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, which should capacitate him to become a student of Trinity College, Dublin. It may not be unworthy of remark, that the same seminary had, a few years before, sent up to the capital the late Lord Avonmore, then commencinlg nis career in circumstances, and with a success so resembling those of his future friend.* The early history of emilnenit Ielsolns so generally contains some presaging tokens of the fi)rtune that awaits thelm, that something of the kind may be expected here, yet Mr. Curran's childbood, if tradition can be cred:'ted, was not mnarked by much prophetic originality.t At the first little school in the town of Newmarket to -which he resorted, previous to his* reception into Mr. Bloyse's family, he used to say that he was noted for his simplicity, and was incessantly selected as the dupe and butt of his play-fellows. This, however, it would appear that he soon laid aside, for Aldworth. In mature life, speaking of this lady, Curran said, " It is not to be wondereld at, that she does not do all that is expected of her. To be enabled so to do, nature should have supplied her with three hands. It is impossible that, stintedly furnished as she is, she could accomplish the great purposes of her heart; she is not prepared for so enlarged a charity. Such in truth is her benevolence, that she would have occasion for the constant employment of three hands; but having only two, and these always engaged, one in holding the petition of the poor, the other in wiping away the tears which flow for their distresses; and not having a third to put into her pocket for their relief, she is thus rendered incapable of administering to their wants; but still she is excellent, and her heart is bountiful."-M. * Another of Curran's schoolfellows at Middleton, was Jeremiah Keller, subsequently well known as the witty and sardonic senior of the Munster bar. He.presided, says Shell, at their mess, " and ruled in all the autocracy of wit." Yelverton, afterwards Viscount Avonmore, and, for more than twenty-one years, Lord Chief Baron of the Exc1hequer, in Ireland, was fourteen years older thami Curran —which leads me to doubt their having been at school together, though, no doubt, both had been educated by the same master, Mr. Carey. Robert Day, afterwards one of the Irish Judges, and a friend of G(rattan's, is also said to have been Curran's schoolfellow.-M. t Thomas Davis, who was himself from that part of Ireland, honored by Currarn's birth and pupilage, gathered up many recollections of his childood, which had floated down to these later times, on the current of traditions He reports, from there, that Curtran, at school, was " a vehement boy, fonder of fun than books." He describes him as being among the hills and the streams, his father's court, the fairs, markets, and merry-rmakings, and his mother's lap. He learned much passion and sharpness, a!)I some vices, too.-M. G LLFBE OF CURIAN. a puppet-show having arrived in Newmarket, and Punch's prompter being takln suddenly ill, he, then a very little boy, volunteered to perform the sick man's duty, and seizing the opportunity, mercilessly satirized the reigning vices of the neighbours. This is almost the only exploit of his childhood that has been related. He entered Trinity College as a sizer, in 1769, being then nineteen years old, an age at wMlich the students of the present day have, for the most part, nearly completed their college course.* Here he studied the classical writings of antiquity with great ardour, and with eminent suiccess, Nor did his enthusiastic admiration of them ever after subside. Amidst all the distractions of business and ambition, he was all his life returning with fresh delight to their perusal; and in the last journey that he ever took, Horace and Virgil were his travelling companions. He obtained a scholarship, and that his general scholastic attainments were not inconsiderable, may be inferred from his having commenced a course of reading for a fellowship,t but, deterred by the labor, or diverted by accident, he soon gave tp the project. When we reflect upon the lustre of his future career, it becomes a matter of natural curiosity to inquire how far his mind now began to indicate those qualities, by which it was to be subsequently so distinguished.; and upon this interesting subject there happened to be preserved some documents, principally a portion of his early correspondence and his first poetical attempts, from which a few occasional extracts shall be offered, for the purpose of giving some idea of the writer's juvenile habits and capacity. Whatever may be considered to be their intrinsic merit, several * Curran entered Trinity College,'Dublin, on the 16th June, 1769. The examination is a severe one, but Curran's answering must have been very good, as he obtained the second place at entrance. His Sizarship entitled him to free rooms and commons, at College.-M. t O'Regan states that besides acquiring an intimate acquaintance with the Classics, Ourran had made considerable advance in science, particularly in metaphysics and morality, while the purest modern classics in the English and French literature, became equally familiar to him. With the Bible he was familiar, and once said, " It would be a reproach not to ex tmine the merits of a work in which all mankind are so much engaged, and have taken so deep an interest." —M. LETTER: OW MU.. STACK. of them were at least written with considerable- ware, and may therefore be introduced as no unfair specimens of the progress of his intellectual strength. To the student of eloquence their defects will not be without instruction, if they inspire him with a reliance upon that labor and cultivation, which alone conduct to excellence. One. of the most intimate friends of Mr. Curran's youth, and of his riper years, was the late Rev. Richard Stack, his contemporar at Trinity College, and since a fellow of that University.* The following is a formal letter of consolation to that gentleman upon the death of a brother. The writer 1lad just completed his 20th year, and appears to have been so pleased with his performance, that no less than three transcripts of it remain in his own handwriting. D' DiUiN, A.ugu8t 20, 1770. "DEAR DICK. "I am sorry to find by your letter (which I have just now received), that you judge my silence for some time past with so much more severity than it deserves. Can my friend suspect me of being unconcerned at his sorrows? I woiad have wrote to you on hearing from Vincent of his late mi.fortune, but that- I was unwilling to press a subject upon, your thoughts which you should take every means of avoiding. To offer co,.solatioll to a mnan of sense, upon the first stroke of affliction, is perhaps one of the most cruel offices that friendship can be betrayed into. All the fine things that can be addressed to the fancy will have but small effect in removing a distemn:r fixed in the heart. Time and reflection only can cure tr-}:;; and happy is it for us that in this chequered scene, where everything feels perpetual decay, and seems created only for d;ssolution, our sorrows cannot boast of exemption from the conmlaon fate. Time, though he sometimes tears up our happiness by:'.e roots, yet, to make amends for that, * Mr. Stack wrote a Treatise GA Optics, long a College Text-book.-M. S LIFE OF CURRAN. kindly holds out a remedy for our afflictions; and though he violently breaks our dearest connexions, yet he is continually teaching us to be prepared for the blow.'Tis true, nature on these occasions will weep, but, my dear Dick, reason and reflection should wipe away these tears. A few years may see us numbered with those whom we now regret, or will give us cause to congratulate those whore happy lot it was, by an early retreat from this scene of misery and disappointment, to escape those troubles which their survivors are reserved to suffer.'Tis true, the inattention of youth will leave the great account more unsettled than might be wished; but at this age, we have everything to plead for that defect-the violence of passions, want of reason to moderate them. Faults, no doubt we have, but they are tho faults of youth, of inexperience; not a course of wickedness riveted by habit, and aggravated by obdurate perseverance, which (heaven help us) in a iength of years they may become; but, above all, that Being who is pleased to call us so suddenly from hence, has mercy and colllpassion to make allowarnce for these involuntary omissions. But I find I have. fallen una.vares upon a theme which I had no intention to pursue so far, as I was persuaded your own good sense would suggest much stronger reasons for your consolation than I could. " J. P. C." At the date of thlis letter, the writer, if he looked forward to fame, expected to find it in tthe pulpit; but this, and a short religious discourse, are all that remain of his early compositions, which, from the style, would uppear to be written with a view to his first destination. Mr. St.ack, however, entertained so very high an opinion of his talents for the solemn ein Atuence of the church, that being appointed a few years after (I 7'.5) to preach before the judges of assize at Cork, and being ar,;sx.ius that his matter should be worthy of his auditors, he entreated of his young friend, who was then upon the spot, and going hs first circuit, to compose a sermon for the occasion. Mr. Curran. omplied; and his produc TRIBUTE TO HIS MOTHER. 9 tion excited such general admiration, that his mother, in an.rwcr to the congratulations of the neighbourhood upon so flattcr.iln, a proof of her son's abilities, could not avoid tempering her maternal exultation with Christian regret, and exclaiming-" Oh, yes, it was very fine; but it breaks my heart to think what a noble preacher was lost to the church when John disappointed us all, and insisted on becoming a lawyer." All his subsequent success and celebrity at the bar could never completely reconcile her to the change; and in her latter years, when her friends, to gratify and console her, used to remind her that she had lived to see her favorite child one of the judges of the land, she would still reply — " Don't speak to me ofjudges —John was fit for anything; and had he but followed our advice, it might hereafter be written upon my tomb, that I had died the mother of a bishop." This excellent and pious woman died about the year 1783, at the advanced age of eighty. It is not written upon her tomb that she died the mother of a bishop or of a judge; but there is to be seen upon it an attestation to her worth from tle son who was her pride, which, as long as virtue and filial gratitude are preferred to the glare of worldly dignities, will be considered as an epitaph no less honorable both to the parent and the child.* It was during the second year of his college studies that he fixed on the profession of the law. In his original intention of taking orders he had been influenced by the wishes of his friends, * Her remains lie in the churchyard of Newmarket; over them if the following epitaph, Wr;ten by Mr. Curran: HERE LIES THE BODY OF SARAH C- RRAN. She was marked by Many Years, Many Talents, Many Virtues, Few Failings, No Crime. This frail memorial was placed here by a Son Whom she loved. 1* 10 LIFE OF CURRAN. and by the promise of a small living in the gift of a distant relative, and probably still more stit.lgly by a habitual preference for the calling to which his early paltron belonged; but his ambition soon overrulel all these motives, alUnd he selected the bar as more suited to h]is telmperament and talents. According to his own account, it was the following incident that suggested tile first idea of a change in his destination. He had committed somle breach of the college regulations, for which he was sentenced by t],e Censor, Dr. Patrick Duigenan, either to pay a fine of five shillings, or translate into Latin a numnber of the Spectator. He fouind it more convenient to accept the latter alternative; but, on the appointed day, the exercise was not ready, and some unsatisfactory excuse was assigned. Against the second offence a heavier penalty was denounced-lhe was condemned to pronounce a Latin oration in laudem decori from the pulpit in the college chapel. Ite no longer thought of evading his sentence, and accordingly prepared the panegyric; but when lie came to recite it, he had not proceeded far before it was found to contain a mock model of ideal perfe(;tion, which the Doctor instantly recognized to be a glaring satire upon himself. As soon, therefore, as the young orator had cOnciunded, and descended from -his station, he was summoned before the Provost and Fellows to account for his behaviour. D)octi'r lDuigemlan was not very popular, and the Provost was secretly not di.pleased at any circuillstance that could mortiify himl. e,- therefore, merely went through the form of calling upon the offender for an explanation, and listening with indulgence to the ingenuity with which lie attempted to soften down tile libel, dismissed him with a slight reproof. When Mr. Curran retaurned among hlis companions, they surrounded him to hear the plarticulars of his acquittal. He reported to them all that he had said, "and all that he had not said, but that he might have said;" and impressed tlhen with so high an idea of his legal dexterity that they declared, by common acclamation, that the bar, and the bar alone, was the proper pro HILS COLLEGE LIFE. 11 fession for one who possessed the talents of which he had that day given such a striking proof. le accepted the omen, and never after repented of his decision. In College he distinguished himself by his social powers. iHe had such a ftut!d of high spirits and of popular anecdote; his ordinary colversation wtas so full of " wit, and fun, and fire," that in the convivial, meetings of his fellow-students he was never omitted. Ihis general reputation anlong them was that of being very clever and very wild. He often joined in those schemes of extravagant fiolic so prevalent in that Unversity, and a after one of the nocturnal broils to which they usually led, was left wounded and insensible from loss of blood to pass the remainder of the night on the pavement of Dublin. He was at this time supported partly from the funds appropriated to the sizers, and partly by scanty remittances from Newmarket. But he was frequently without a shilling; for he was incorrigibly improviden.t, and would often squander, in entertaining his companions, what should have been meted out to answer the demands of the coining quarter. Yet, whatever his priva. t ons were, he bore them with sinIgular good humor, and when he had no longer money to treat his friends; he never failed to divert them with ludicrous representations of his distresses and expedients. One of his sayings while he was in College has been preserved, and is a favorable instance of the felicitous use that he made of his classical knowledge in the production of comical effect,* A fellow-student in rec'ting a Latin theme assigned a false quantity * Another classical application shews his readiness, if not his wit. A gentleman of very ordinary counteutance, whose forehead was so prominent on the one side that it rose like a rugged hill, while on the other it was depressed like a valley, being charged by one -of his friends with an affair of gallantry, blushed exceedingly, and defended himself from the imputation by good humoredly offering his deformity as a proof of his innocence; on which Curran observed: "On thefigrt blush I should think you ought to be acquitted, but the max!,i is still strong against you-Fronti ulla ftdes, niniunm nte credae coloi.'"-.M. 12 ~LIFE OF -CURRAN. to the syllable mi *n the word nimirum. A buzz of disapproba, tion succeeded; Mr. Curran, to relieve his friend's, confusion observed, "that it was by 1o me:ans surprising that an Irish student should be ignorant of what was known by only one man in Rome, according to the foilowing testimony of Horace"Septimius, Claudi, nimirum intelligit unus." He was at this early period remarkable for his disposition to subtle disputation and metaphysical inquiries, connected with which a circumstance may be mentioned that strikingly illustrates the speculative propensities of his young and ardent mind. A frequent topic of conversation with one of his companions was the investigation of the nature of death and eternity, and the immortality of the soul; but finding that the farther they followed the bewildering light of reasonl, the more they were " in, wandering mazes lost," they canme to the romantic agreement, that whoever of them might first receive the summons to another state, should, if permitted, for once revisit the survivor, and relieve his doubts by revealing, whatever could be revealed to him, of the eternal secret. A very few years after, the summons came to Mr. Curran's friend, who, finding his end approach, caused a letter to be addressed to his former fellow-student, apprising him of the impending event, and of his intention to perform his promise (if it should be allowed) on a particular night. The letter did not reach its destination till after the expiration of the appointed hour; but it was the first, and the only intimation, that arrived of the writer's decease. Something of the same turn of mind may be observed in a little poem that Mr. Curran wrote the year before he left Trinity College. One of his contemporaries there, was a young gentleman, named Apjohn, with whom he became intimately connected by a community of taste and pursuits, and who claims a passing mention as a friend'rom whose example and encouragement ho EARLY POETRY. l3 deri ed the most important advantages at this trying period of his career, when hope and ardour were the most precious benefits that a friend could bestow. )During a tli;porary absence of Apjohn from college, a report reached his compan'ons that he had died suddenly at his native place, Killaloe. It was soon discovered to have been unfounded, upon which occasion, while the others congratulated iW.;n in prose, his more ambitious friend addressed him in the follow'ing verses: TO r. APJOH N. I':.c!.- whinilng slut, dismiss those sighs, Those epitaphs and elegies; And throwing off those weeds of sorrow, Go laughing bid my friend good morrowr Go bid him welcome here again, From Charon's bark and Pluto's reign! The doleful tale around was spres i: "Hast heard the news? Poor Apjohn',s dead!" - "Impossible!' —" Indeed it's trueHe's dead-and so is Casey tooIn Limerick this, and that Killaloe. As St. Paul says,' we all must die!' I'm sorry for't." —" Faith so'm IExtremely so —But tell me. pray, If you were on the ice to-lay? There'wss great skating there, they say —" " I oldll n't to for want of shoesIn'trtul I'n surry for the newsArnd get I knew and always said, When tie hald g:t into his head That strange ab:temious resolution,'Twould quite destroy his constitution,' Thus careless, tearless sorrow spoke, And heaved the sigh, or told the joke, Yet, must I own, there were a few Who gave your memory its due; 14 LIFE OF CURRAN. And while they dropt a friendly tear Said things that —— but you must n't hear, And now, methought, a wandering ghost, You whizz'd along the Stygian coast; And if, perchance, you gained the wherry, And tugg'd an oar across the ferry, That, sitting on the fiuther shore, ~vqu vwatch'd each boatful wafted o'er,.Whbile with impatience you- attend Th' arrival of your quondam friend; To tell his wonder where you've been, And what surprising things you've seen; And, from experience wise, relate The various pQlitic of fate; And show where hoary sages stray, Ailnd where ihey clbaul; to keep their way Then laugh to think, how light as air, Our blinl dogmatic guesses were; When, fancy throned and placed oa high We sat in judgment o'er the sky. There envy too began to rise, To think that you were grown so wise; That bursting from this shell of clay, You now enjoy'd eternal day; While I was left perplex'd and blind, In anxious ignorance behind; Doom'd this insipid part to play In life's dull farce another day, That, bent with.i-orrows and with age, I late might totter oft the stage: But yet my Muse, I cried, will pay, The tribute of a weeping lay: And though the flowers strewn o'er his tome May boast, perhaps, a longer bloom, The short-liv'd verse he'II still receive. Since that is all a Muse can give. The Muse, coutpntedl, took her place.I solemnly composed my face, And took the pel, prepared to write What she sat ready to indite, WILLIAM AIPJOE. 15 When Rumor, lo! with deaf'ning sound, X:re gladsome tidings blows around, And.bids n'r thcusand t.orgue- to te'i, That Apjohn is alive and wrll! And louder now the torrent grows, Gathering new murmurs as it flows, When the poor Muse, in sad affright, Swift to Parnassus wings her flight; But promised, ere away she fled, That when you should indeed be dead, She'd call again, and write a verse, To please your friend, and grace your hearse; Unless that I myself ere then Sh %uld grow fatigued and quit the scene. And yet how short a time can live Those honors that the Muses give — Soon fades the monument away, And sculptured marbles soon decay; And every title, now defaced, Mix with the dust which once they graced: But if we wish a deathless name, Let Virtue hand us down to Fame. Our honors then may Time defy, Since we will have, whene'er we die, For epitaph-a life well spent, And mankind for a monument. What matter then for you and me, Though none upon our graves should see A W. A. or ~ J. P. C. William Apjohn is a name of which the world has heard nothing. He died prematurely, and "without his fame;" but had his days been lengthened, he would probably have acted a distinguished part in the history of his country. Like his friend, he had chosen the bar as the most honorable road to fortune and celebrity, and had already given a promise of such talents for public life, that his success was looked to as undoubted. Mr. Curranl never spoke of lis capacity but in terms of the mnost 16 LIFE OF CURRAN. respectful admiration. "Apjohn's mind," he used to say, "was, beyond exception, the most accomplished tLat I ever met: his abilities and attainments were so many and so -;are, that if they could have been dictri'outed among a dozen ordinary personls, the share of each would have promoted him:o the rank of a man of talents." LEAVES COL.i1;UfL}E. 17 CHAPTER II. Mr. Curran leaves College-Enters the Middlle Temple-Letter to Mr. Weston-Letter to Mr. Keller-tHis first attempts in Oratory f:til —Uis own account of the failure, and of his first success-A regular attendant at Dtbating Clluhs-Anecdotes-His Poem ol Friendship-Dr. Creagh's charecter of hir —Mr. Htudson's predictions and fr iendshipHis early manners and habits-Subject to constitutional melancholy-Letters from London-His society in London —Anecdote of his interview with Macklin-his early application and.'~tt-.inments-Fa:,orite authors-Early attachment to the Irish peasantry-His marriage-Remarks upon the English Law. MR. CURRAN completed his college studies in the early part of the year 1773, having qualified himnself to a Master's degree, and passed over to London, where he became a student of law in the Society of the Middle Temple.* During his residence in England he wrote regularly, and at considerable length to his friends in Ireland. A collection of these letters has been preserved, and as several of them contain a more striking picture of his circumnstances, and of many traits of individual character, than any description by another could convey, he shall in this stage of his life be occasionally made his own biographer. The following was written immediately after his arrival in the British capital. The gentleman to whom it is addressed was a resident of Newmarket, and one of the most attached of Mr. Curran's early friends. It is indispensable that every person who seeks admission to the Irish bar, shall have " studied" (i. e., eaten a certain number of dinners during two years) at one of the Imle of the Court, in London, as well as at the Queen's Inn of law, in Dublin!-M. b8 LIFE OF CURRAN. "LONDoN, 31 Chandos-street, July 10, 1773. "THE REV. HENRY WESTOGN, NEWMARKET, CO. CORK. "I would have taken a last farewell of my dear Harry from Dublin, if I had not written so shortly before I left it; and, indeed, I was not sorry for being exempt firom a task for which a thousand causes conspired to make me, at that julncture, unqualified. It was not without regret that I could leave a country, which my birth, education, and connections had rendered dear to me, and venture alone, almost a child of fortune, into a lard of strangers. In such moments of despondence, when fatncy plays the self-tormnentor, she commlonly acquits herself to a nmiarle, and:will not fail to collect in a single group the most hideotu forms of an i-,;latil misfortune. 1 vc(,sidered myself, besides, as rcsigning for ever the little indulget:c~:s that youth and inexperience may claim for their errors, and passing a period of life in which the! cst can scarce escape the rigid severity of censure; nor could the little trivial vanity of taking the reins of my own conduct alleviate the pain of so dear-boughlt a transition from dependence to liberty. Full of these reflections as I passed the gate, I could not but turn and take a laSt lingering look of poor Alna-mater; it was the scene of many a boyish folly, and of many a happy hour. I should have felt more confusion at a part of the retrospect, had I not been relieved by a recollection of the valuable friendship I had formed there. Though I am far firom thinking such a circumstance can justify a passed misconduct, yet I cannot call that time totally a blank, in which one has acquired the greatest blessing of humanity. It was with a melancholy kind of exultation I counted over the number of those I loved there, while my heart gave a sigh to each name in tile catalogue; nay, even thefellows, whom I never loved, I forgave at that moment; the parting tear blotted out every injury, and I gave them as hearty a.: benediction as if they had deserved it: as for my general acquaintance (for I could LE[EW- TO> Mt. WESTON. 19 not but go the round). I packed their respective little sighs into one great sigh, as I turned round on my heel. My old friend and handmaid Betty, perceiving me in motion, got her hip under the strong box with my seven shirts, which she had rested against the rails during the delay, and( screwed up her face into a most rueful caricature, that might provoke a laugh at another time; while her young son Denny, grasping his waistband in one hand, and a basket of sea-provision in the other, took the lead in the procession; and so we journeyed on to George's Quay,* where the ship was just ready to sail. When I entered, I found my fellow-paszengers seated round a large table in the cabin: we were fourteen;n number. A young Highland lord had taken the head of the table and the conversation, and, with a modesty peculiar to himself, gave a history of his travels, and his intimate connections with the princes of the empire. An old debauched officer was complaining of the gout, while a w: m.n, who sat next to him (good heaven! what a tongue), ga.rve a long detail of what her father suffered from that disorder. To do them all justice; they exerted themselves most zealously for the common entertainment. As for my part, I had nothing to say; nor, if I had, was any one at leisure t,+ listen to me; so I took possession of what the captain called a bed, fwond.lrig with Partridge,' how they could play so many different tunes at the same time without putting each other out.' I was expecting that the sea-sickness would soon give those restless mouths different employment, but in that I was disappointed; the sea was so calm that one only was sick du:i:ro.g the passage, and it was not my good fortune that the lot should fall on that devil who never ceased chattering. There was no cure but patience; accordingly, I never stirred from mly tabernacle (unless to visit my basket) till we arrived at Parkgate.t Here, after the usual pillage:it the custom-house, I laid my box down * [n Cork. —5. t Pa' kgate, in Cheshire, was the usual port of debarcation, for Irish Toyagers to England, in the last century.-M. 20 LIFE OF..CU. on the beach, seated myself upon it, and, casting my eyes westward over the Welsh mountains towards Ireland, I beganl to reflect on the impossibility of getting back without the piecarious assistance of others. Poor Jack! thought I, thou wert never till now so far from home but thou miglltest return on thine own legs. Here now must thou remain, for where here canst thout expect the assistance of a friend Whimsical as the idea was, it had power to affect me; until, at lenlgth, I was awakened from thi, reverie by a figure which approached me with the utmost afiability; nlethought his looks seemed to say,'WAhy is thy spirit troubled?' 1le pressed me to go into his hoiuse, and to'eat of his bread,' and to'drink of his drink.' There was so vilJib good.-natured solicit.LE;, in tl!te invitation,'t was ilreslstible. i arose, therefore, and filtowed 1.il ashamtl of my uncharitable despondence. Surely, thlought I,'there is stidi hulnanity left among us,' as I raised my eyes to the golden letters over his door, that offer.s l en'tl.rainment and repose to the wearied traveller. Itfrce!T "ei:d to stay for the night, and agreed for a place in his coac-, ne:r;; tmorning, to Chester; but, finding my loquacious fellow-passeli;,.-r l)ad agreed for one in the same vehicle, I retracted my b u;i:4an, and agreed for -my box only. I perceived, however, mLteni I irose next morning, that my box was not sent, though the coach w as gone. I was tlhinking how I should remedy this unlucky disappointment, when my'friendly host told me that he could furnish me with a chaise! Confusioan light upon him! what a stroke was this! It was not the few paltry shillings that vexed me, but to have my philanthropy till that moment running cheerily through my veins, and to have the current turned back suddenly by the detection of his knavery! Verily, Yorick, e eit thy gentle spirit, so meekly accustomed to bear and forbear, would have been roused on such an occasion. I paid hastily for my entertainment, and, shaking the dust from my feet at }..is gate, I marched wit1l my box on lmy shboulder to a waggoner's at tie other end of the town, where I entered it for London, and sallied forth towards Chester on foot. LETTEaR TO MR. WESTON. 21 I was so nettled at being the dupe of my own credulity, that I w.s allmost tempted to pass an excomnmunication on- all mankind, and resolved never more to trust'n-y own skill in physiognromny. Wrapt up in my speculations, I never perceived at whlat a rate! was striding away, till I found myself in the suburbs of Chester, quite out of breath, and clompletely covered with dust and dirt. From Chester, I set out tl hat evening in the stage: I slept about four hours next day at Coventry, and the following evening, at five o'clock, was in view of near a hundred and twefity spires, that are scattered from one side of the horizon to the other, and seem almost bewildered. in the mist that perpetually covers this prodigious capital.'T would be impossible for description to give arny idea of the various objects that fill a stranger, on his first arriv;l, with surprise and astonishment. The magnificence of the churchles, hospitals, and other public building, which everywhere present i1 lt.rselves, would alone be ample subject of admiration to a spectator, though he were not distracted by the gaudy display of wealth and dissipation continually shifting before his eyes in the most extravagant forms of pride and ostentation, or by a hurry of business that might make you think this the source from which life and motion are conveyed to the world beside. There are many places here not unworthy of particular inspection; but as my illness prevented me froml seeing them on my first arrival, I shall suspend my curiosity till some future time, as I am determined to apply to reading thbis vacation with the utmost diligence, in order to attend the Colrts next winter with more advantage. If I should happen to visit Ireland next summer, I shall spend a week, before I go, in seeing the curiosities here (the king and queen, and the lions); and, if I continue in my present mood, you will see a stran;ge alteration in your poor friend.'nat cursed fever ever brought me down so much, and my spirits are'so reduced, that, faith, I don't remember to have laughed these six weeks. Indeed, I never thought solitude could lean so heavily on me as I find it does: I- rise, 1most commonly, in the morning between five 22 LIFE OF -CUiRAN. and six, and read as much as my eyes will permit me till dinnertime; I then go out and dine, and from that till bed-time, I mope about between my lodgings and the Park. For heaven's saie, sonci me some news or other (for, surely, Newmarket cari-ot be-l barren in such things) that will -each me once more to laugh. I niever received a single line from any one since I came here! Tell me if you know anything about Kelle-; I wrote twice to that gentleman without being it\vored with al.y answer. You will give mry best respects to f(rfs. Aldworth aid hfer'family; to Doctor Creagh's; and do n't forget mJy good fiends 1:'eter and Will Conn']. "Yours sincerely, "J. P. C. "P.S.-I will cover this blank edge with intreating you to write closer than you commonly (do when you sit down to annwor this. and don't make me pay tenpence for a halfspenny-worth of white paper." [Curran's correspondence with Mr. Weston was collected and published in 1819, but is only slightly known. It extends over,' only a year and a half (17 73 —4), when Curran was yet very young, but contains some passages too characteristic not to be added to this life of him. Here is a lively:bit of description: " No doubt Keller has informed you of Schoole's exploit in the matrimonial way, with the daughter of the widow Craigan in Limerick. It 3eems the whole posse comitatus was hunting the fugitives for three or rour days; but,4choole made a valiant running fight of it, and has the lear creature here in London. I have the honor of being introduced as a particular friend of Mr. Schoole's, though I fancy the desire of showing nie the prize was the chief ground of the particularity. She is a curious Little puppet, smart and chattering, and looks upon her good man as in oracle of taste and erudition. By her means I have got acquainted Nith a Miss Hume, who is also an original in her way. She is a relation )f the celebrated David Hume; and, I suppose, on the strength of the rindred, sets up for a politician as well as a sceptic; she has heard his TilHE IRISH CHAlRACTER. 23 Essays recommended, and shews her own discernment by pronouncing them unanswerable; and talks of the famous Burke, by the familiar appellation of Ned. Then she is so romantic and so sentimental-nothing for her but grots, and purling streams, and piping shepherds; and to crown all, it sings like a nightingale. As I have not the best command of my muscles, I always propose putting out the candles, before the song begins, for the greater romanticality of the thing. This is an expedient I used to have recourse to in the college, when I had the honor of teaching Nixon to sing.'T is a miserable thing when a poor girl is so mistaken in her qualifications, as to display only her absurdities, and stu diously conceal everything that she ought not to be ashamed of. EveL this being wants not common sense, if she would but use it. Bat what have you or I to ho with the text or comment?' Here, after an unfavorable character of the English boor, is Curran's panegyric on his own countrymen: "' Their fondness for genealogy, so much despised here, and not without reason, yet gives them an advantage they could derive from no other source. When each poor individual is supposed to contain in his own person the accumulated honors of many generations, they are led to treat each other with a politeness and respect prbportioned to this imaginary merit, and to cultivate a friendly intercourse that contributes not a little to reclaim, and even to refine the sentiments of the illiterate; and I have often thought, their manner of lamenting over their dead, co-operates strongly to preserve and improve this untutored sort of politeness, by keeping alive something like a taste for composition in a language, that wants neither expression nor extent, and by preventing that language from a decay, into which it must otherwise have fallen: and to these you add the severe political grievances, and the still more cruel miserable inducement'to a strict association, the community of affliction and wretchedness, more than can be found in either France or Germany. and yet fostered in the bosom of a constitution boasted to be free. You will smile, no doubt, at these observations as being unseasonable as well as exaggerated. To the first I must plead guilty: but for the latter, there certainly is some truth in:it;would to Heaven there was not so much i" There is life, spirit and vivacity in this account of his visit to 21 LIFE OF CURRAN. Hampton Court, one of the Royal Palaces near London, to which the public at large, as its true proprietors, have free admission now: "The servant who showed us the apartments, which were very splendid, gave us a circumstantial detail of the pictures, and the judgment.s passed upon them by different connoisseurs: he seemed to be a. good deal pleased with his manner of explaining a suite of tapestry, representing the Persian war of Alexander: though a simple fellow, he had his lesson well by rote, and ran over the battles of Issus and Arbela, &c., with a surprising flippancy.' But where is Alexander?' cries Apjohn. l'There sir, at the door of Darius's tent, with the ladies at his feet.''Surely,' said 1,' that must be Hephestion, for be was mistaken by the Queen for Alexander.''Pardon me, sir: I hope I know; Ale.xander better than that;' and he shook his head in confirmation of his opinion, while I paid myself the same compliment.' ut which of' the two do you really think the greater manll?'' reater! Bless your soul, sir, they are both dead this hundred year..' O HIarry! what a comment on human vanity! By my soul, there was the marrow of a thousand folios in the answer. I could not help thinking, at the instant, what a puxzle that mighty man would be in, should he appear before a committee from the Temple of Fame, to claim those laurels he thought so much of; and be opposed in his demand, though his competitors were Thersites, or the fellow who rubbed Bucephalus's heels. Ilow would his identity be ascertained? Choerilus, stand forth; but should MAtvius contest the bays with Chtcrilus, would a million of critics decide the difference? What then must be the sentence? Why, since the conqueror cannot be distinguished from the slave, let the chaplet be divided between them, et curru servus portetur eodem. Thus, in a few years, may my dear Harry be a Tillotson, and his friend as much Cicero as Cicero himself." The following extract shows how Curran spent his time in London. What a happy kind of-life, what a blessed flashing of mirth and meditation-sport and study-fun and philosophy-purl and politics-shaded, as it must have been, with the constitutional melancholy which pressed on him through life, and at length wrapped his mind in the darkest folds of despondency and hopelessness, such a way of living must lhave had chiarlis for one who liked variety, and could accommodate himsnelf to all phases of society. EARLY CORRESPONDENCE. 25 "I happened at first to be rather unlucky in my lodgings; I was not aware of their being situated exactly under the bells of St. Martin, and that I was to be eternally stunned with the noise of praying bells, rejoining bells, and passing bells. I had the additional inconvenience of being exposed to the conversation of a man, no ways agreeable to me, a dull, good-natured, generous, unexperienced, opinionated, deep-read, unlearned, disputative sort of a character; still more offensive to me than my other neighbour, the steeple; for I had learned to endure unpleasing sounds, but I never had an opportunity of learning to bear with a troublesome companion. So I changed my tabernacle not a little to my satisfaction Besides being disengaged from the nuisances that infected me before, I have procured much better accommodations, on more reasonable terms. For the future, you will direct to me, No. 9 Orange Street, Leicester FiieLds. " Notwithstanding a fit of illness, which somewhat retarded my application in the beginning, I have exerted a degree of assiduity, of which I once thought myself incapable. For the first five months I was almost totally a recluse, indeed, too much so. When we seclude ourselves entirely. from all intercourse with the world, our affections will soon grow impatient of the restraint, and strongly convince us that much of our happi ness must be drawn from society; and if we exert too much rigour, however philosophical it may appear at the time, to suppress these struggles, the temper is apt to fall into a gloomy kind of apathy. This I found to be my case, and I accordingly resolved to soften the severity of the discipline I had over-zealously adopted, and to that end made some additions to my wardrobe, and purchased a fiddfe, which I had till then denied myself. Do not think, however, from my mentioning those indulgences, that I have diminished my hours of reading; all I have done by the change is, eimploying the time that must otherwise be vacant, in amusement instead c:, solitrale. I still continue to read ten hours every day, seven at law, and three at history, or the general principles of politics; and that I may have time enough, I rise at half after four. I have contrived a machine after the manner of an hour-glass, which. perhaps, you may be curious to kniow. which wkecns me regularly at that hour. Exactly over my head I have suspended Iwo vessels of tin, one above the other; when I go to bed, which is always ai ten, I pour a bottle of water into the upper vessel, in the bottom of which is a hole of such a size, as to let the water pass thlough. so as to make the inferior reservoir overflow in six hours and a half. I have had no small trouble in proportioning those 2 26 LIFE OF CUBRIAN. vessels; anid I was still more puzzled for a while how to confine my hkad, so as to receire the drop, but I have at length succeeded. i * * * * * * * * "You wild, perhaps, be at some loss to guess what kind of amusement I allow myselC. why, I'll tell you. I spend a couple of hours every night at a coffee-houea'cohere I am not a little entertained with a group of old politicians, who meet in order to debate 6n the reports of the day, or to invent some for the nezt, with the other business of the nation. Though I don't know that sociaielity is the characteristic of this people, yet politics is a certain introdo.,nion to the closest intimacy of coffee-house acquaintance. One meete,'ith a great deal of amusement from this sort of conversation. and I thin: it, can scarcely be devoid of improvement. Six or seven old fellows who Ave spent the early part of their lives in a variety of adventures, and are.mited at last by no other principle.'an a common vacancy, which makes it ra-..essary for them to fill up'.heir time by meddling in other people's busines,;.icn they have none of!heir own, is certainly a miscellany not unwsorhi:y a prusal; it gives a.:cility at least of discerning characters, and what is no less useful, enu',s:j us to a toleration that must make our passage through life more easy. I also visit a variety of ordinaries aind eating-houses, and they are equally fertile in game for a characterh.buntcr. I think I have found out the cellar where Roderick Random ate slhin of beef for three-pence, and actually drank out of the identical quari., which the drummer squeezed together when poor Strap spilt the broth on his legs.' From the last letter in this collection I quote a passage, a ]i' tie too formlal, perhaps, firl' the otf-hand sdtle of friendly letters, but showing vigour of thll.ul{lt, feeling and expression: "My not writing to you since I came to England, proceeding wholly from a scarcity of any thing worth communicating, I might justify a continuance of silence from the same cause. But vet I know not well how it happens, there is something in the first day of the new year that seems peculiarly to demand the tribute of' remembrance: I could not let it pass without apprizing you that I am still in the land of the living: "vivo equidem." These anniversary days serve as light-houses on the great ocean of time, by which we direct and compute our courPes. They alarm us to a momentary recollection of the temper.esi we iaVr w(;athered, EARLY CORRE1'O1NDEiNCCE. 27 the quicksands we have escaped, or the fortunate gales we have enjoyed. If any of the stars of heaven have shone with propitious influence, we adore them for their benevolent regards, and endeavour to engage their superintendence for the remainder of our voyage. " As Young says-'we take no heed of time but b7 its loss;' the moments slide a.,perceived away, we think it still in our possession, still in being, till the knell of our departed hours startles us into a perception of its decease. These returning periods are not then without their advantage. They admonish us, it least, to dedicate one day in the year to a little reflection. The incidents of our ii;i crowd in upon our thoughts, the pleasures we have found, the anxious moments we have spent-and Reason, elated with the temprw.y slbmission of her authority, makes a merit of passing an impartial sentence, and of changing, for an instant, from the venal advocate to the upright judge of our passions or our follies. Then, too, the heart counts over its attachments; and if Fate has blotted out any name of the catalogue, we fix our expectation with amnore anxious solicitude on the survivors. When any of our fortresses against the outrages of fortune have sunk into ruin, we are doublv bound to attend to the preserv'ation of those that remain, lest we should be found totally defenceless in the day of danger. "Thus have I in some sort accounted for my troubling you with a letter at this particular time, as well as for the melancholy mood in which I sit down to write: in truth I do not remember to have been much more dejected. To you, my dear Harry, 1 hope this merry season has been more favourable. And yet, situated as you are, you can scarcely avoid sometimes feeling the heaviness of time, especially now when Newmarket has lost so many who might contribute to enliven it. As for my part, you can neither envy nor congratulate my situation with half the reason that I may yours. I once thought that solitude amidst thousands was no better than a paradox; but now I find it effectually verified. It is, indeed, tCle most dreary of all solitudes to walk abroad amongst millions, to read the most legible of all characters. those written by fortune or affliction, in every face you meet; to feel your heart elated or depressed by every story, and with the most disinterested solicitude, acknowledging toie object for its fellow-creature; to have all these exquisitely respondcut Sympathies for which nature has so finely formed the bosoms of her children, unobserved and unavailing. * * *, *] 28 LIFE OF CURRAN. In a letter of nearly the same date, to another friend,* he says " By the time you receive this I shall have relapsed into the same monastic life that I led before. I do not expect, however, that it will lean so heaviily on me. e,as am now tolerably recovered, and shall continue to read with unabated application; indeed, that is the only means of making solitude supportable; yet, it must be owned, a man of speculative tu:lt will find ample matter in that way without stirring from his wi. low. It is here that every vice and folly climb to their meridian, arci that mortality seems properly to understand hermbusiness. If you cOas your eyes on the thousand gilded chariots that are dancing the haves in an eternal round of foppery, you would think the wor'i assembled to play the fool in London, unless you believe the report of the passing bells and hearses, which would seem to intimate that they all made a point of dying here. It:.niazi.ng, that even custom should make death a matter of so much unor_.cern as you will here find it. Even in the house where I lodge, there has been a being dead these two days. I did nou: hear a word of it till this evening, though he is divided from m'a inly by a partition. They visit him once a day, and so lock hi: upi till the next (for they seldom bury till the seventh day), and there he lies without the smnallest attention paid to him, except a dirge each night on the Jew's-harp, which I shall not omit while he continues to be my neighbour." It was during his attendance at the Temple that Mr. Curran made the first trial of his rhetorical powers. He frequented a debating society that was composed of his fellow-studlentis. His first attempt was unsuccessful, and for the momnet t quite disheartened him. He had had from his boyhood a.-;itd,nsideraXie precipitation and confusion of utterance, from which he was denominated by his school-fellows "stuttering Jack Curran." This defect he had labored to remove, but the cure was not yet * Jeremiah Keller, Esq., a member of the Irish bar. —C. BURSTING THE SHILL. ~9 complete. Fromr the agitation of a fiirt efiort he was unable to pronounce a syllable; and so little prixomise did there appear of his shining as a speaker, that his friiend AJohn said to him, "I have a high opinion of your capac;'.y;,:onrine yourself to the study of law, and you will, to a cert:lim,.), becollle an eminent chamber counsel; but, depend upon it, nawure ineer intended you for an orator." Fortunately for his f'e-ne, this advice was disregarded: he continued to attenl the ab.lv)rt and other debating clubs, at one of which, duri. g a discuss:ion, some personal and irritating expressions having been levelled at him, his indignation, and along with it his talent, w.a, roulsed. Forgetting all his timidity and hesitation, he rose a-ainst his assailants, and, for the first time, revealed to his hearers and to himself that style of original and impetuous oratory; nhich he afterwards improved into such perfection, and whli.: now bids fair to preserve his ilnaue. lIe used often to entertain his friends by detailing this evelnt of his mlind's havina g "burst the shell." The following was the mlialler in which he once related it; for one of the gre.at charms of his collicial powers was the novelty that he coul f give to the sllame iifacts upon every repetition: he adorned a favorite arnecdc(te, as a skilful musician would a favorite air, by an endless varicsy of umrnli lmeditated ad libitum graces. One day arLer dinner, an acquaintance, in speaking of his eloquence, happened to observe that it must have been born with him. "Indeed, my dear sir," replied Mr. Curran, "it was not; it was born thlree and twenty years and somle months after nle; and, if you are satisfied to listen to a dull historian, you shall lave the history of its nativity. " V1 When I was at the Temple, a few of us formed a little debating club-poor Apjohn, and -)Duhigg,* and the rest of thelm! they have all disappeared fiomn the stage; but my own busy hour will soon be fretted through. and then we nmay meet again behind the scenes. Poor fellows! they are now at rest; but I still can * The late B. T. Duhigg, Esq., of the Irish Bar. —C. 3G r.TF of cBuraA. see them, and the g-l\,w of honest bustle on their looks, as they arranged. their little plau of honourable association (or, as Pope would say,'gave tieiJ little senata laws'), where all the great questions in ethics an! politics (there,were 1it gagging-lills in those days) were to be discussed and irrevocably settled. Upon the first night of our assembling, I attended, my foolish heart throbbing with the anticipated honour of being styled'the learned member that opened the deb.ate,' or'the very eloquent gentleman i ho has just sat down.' All day the coming scene had been flitting before my fancy, and cajoling it; my ear already caught the glorious melody of' hear him, hear him!' Already I was practising how to steal a cunning side-long glance at the tear of generous approbation bubbling in the eyes of my little auditory; never suspecting, alas! t1hat a modern eye may have so little affinity with moisture that tlhe lfinest gunpowder may be dried upon it. I stood up —the yqvestic:; was Catholic claims or the slave trade, I protest I now f'o!r'g t which, but the di.;tr n'cle, you know, was never very obvious —-my minid was stored with about a folio volume of matter, but I wanted a preface, and bfor want of a preface the volume was never publislhed. I stoc. up, trembling through every fibre; but remembering tl.'la., in this I was but imitating Tally, I took courage, and had -. stually proceeded almost as far as'Mr. Chairman,' when -to my astonishment and terror, I perceived that every eye was riveted upon me. There were only six or seven present, and the little room could not have contained as many more; yet was it, to my panicstruck imagination, as if I were the central object in nature, and assembled millions were gazing upon me in breathless expectation. I became dismayed and dumb; my friends cried'hear him!' but there was nothing to hear. My lips, indeed, went through the pantomime of articulation, but I was like the unfortunate fiddler at the fair, who, upon coming to strike up the solo that was to ravish every ear, discovered that an eneiny had maliciously soaped his bow; or rather like poor Punch as I once saw THE DEBATINGO CLUB. ot him (and how many like hiln have I seen in our old House of Commons! but it is dead, and let us not disturb its ashes) grimacing a soliloquy, of which his prompter behind had most indiscreetly neglected to administer the words. So you see, sir, it was not born with me. However, though my friends, even Apjohn, the most sanguine of them, despaired of me, the cacoethes loquendi was not to be subdued without a struggle. I was for the present silenced, but I still attended our meetings with the most laudable regularity, and even ventured to accompany the others to a more ambitious theatre,'the Devils of Temple Bar;' where truly may I say, that many a time the Devil's own work was going forward. Here, warned by fatal experience that:; man's powers may be overstrained, I at first confined myself t,) a simple'ay or no,' and by dint of practice and encouragemcnt, brought my tongue to recite these magical elements of parliamentary eloquence with'such sound emphasis and good discretion,' that in r fortnight's time I had completed my education for the Irish senase. "Such was my state, the popllar throb ju.st beginning to, dresvisit msv heart, when a lorng expected remittance arrived fronm Newmlaiket; Apjohn dined with me that day, and when the leg of mutton, or rather the bone, was removed, we offered up the libationl of an additional glass of punch for the health and length of days (and heaven heard the prayer) of the kind mother that Ihad relnemubered the necessities of her absent child. In the evening we had repaired to' the Devils.' One of them was upon his iegs; a fellow of whom it was impossible to decide, whether he was most distinguished by the filth of his person or by the flippancy of his tongue; just such another as Harry Flood' would have called'the highly gifted. gentleman with the dirty cravat and greasy pantaloons.'* I found this learned personage * Mr. Curran, here alluded to the celebrated Mr. Flood's custom of distinguishing the speakers attl.h London Debating Societies by such ludicrous descriptions of their dress, as "the el iuilt friend to reform in the threadbare coat," "the able supporter of the present miri.stiy with the new'pair of boots," &c.-a. 32 LIFE OF CURRAN. in the act of calumniating chronology by the most preposterous anachronisms (and as I believe, I shortly after told him) traducing the illustrious dead by affecting a confidential intercourse with them, as he would with some nobleman, his very dear friend, behind his back, who, if present, would indignantly repel the imputation of so insulting an intimacy. He descanted upon Demosthenius, the glory of the Roman forum; spoke of Tully as the famous cotemporary and rival of Cicero; and in the short space of one half hour, transported the straits of Marathon three several times to the plains of Thermopylae. Thinking that I had a right to know something of these matters, I looked at hiln with surprise; and whether it was the money in my pocket, or my classical chivalry, or most piobably the supplemental tumbler of luincll, that gave my face a smirk of saucy confidence, when our eyes met, there was something like wager of battle in mine; upon which the erudite gentleman instantly changed his invectives against antiquity into an invective against me, and concluded by a rewe- words of friendly cotmlsel (horriboe referens) to'Orator Mul,' who he doubted not possessed wonderful talents for eloquence, although lie would recommend hini to ilow it ill future by some more popular method than his silenc:-. I followed his advice, and I believe not entirely without eflect; for when sitting down, I whispered my friend, that I hoped he did not think that my dirty antagonist had come' quite clean off?''On the contrary, my dear fellow,' said he,'every one aroutnd lme is declaring that it is the first time they ever saw himt so well dressed.' So, sir, you see that to try the bird, the spur must touch his blo(od. Yet, atter all, if it had not been for the inspiration of the punch, I mnillht have continuled a mute to this hour; so for the honor of the art, let, us hlave.another glass." The speech which Mr.( Curran nmtade,upoln fhis,occasion w..i immediately followed by a more substaltiial reward than the applauses of his hearers; the debate was no sooner clcsed than the president of the society dispatched his secre*ary to the eloquent THE ROBIN HOOD. 83 stranger, to solicit the honor of his company to partake of a cold collation, which proved to consist of bread and cheese and porter; but the public motives of the invitation rendered it to the guest the most delicious supper that ue had ever tasted. From this time till his final departure from London, le was a regular attendant and speaker at debating clubs; an exercise which he always strongly recommended to every student of eloquence, and to which he attributed much of his own skill and facility in extemporaneous debate. He never adopted or approved of the practice of committing to memory intended speeches, but he was in the habit of assisting his mind with ample notes of the leading topics, and trusted to the occasion for expression. The society that he latterly most frequented was the well-known Robin Hood. He also sometimes attended a meeting for the discussion of religious questions,'which was held on Sunday evenings at the Brown Bear in the Strand, and resorted to by persons of every persuasion, and by many who were honorary members of all faiths. Whenever the claims of the Roman Catholics were the subject of debate, he uniformly supported them. From his zeal in their cause, and from his dress (a brown surtout over black), he was supposed by strangers to be a young priest of that Order, and was known in the club by the name of " the little Jesuit from St. Oiners."' Among Mr. Ciurran's juvenile productions was a poem of some length, written while he was at the Temple; it is entitled, "On Friendship," and addressed to Mr. Weston, of Newmarket. When we consider the character of Mr. Curr, he confronts the band Of willing slaves that sell their native land: And, when the mitred h'reling would persuade That chains hor man by Heaven's high will were made, Or hoary jurist, in perversion wise, Would. sap the laws, and Qn their ruin rise, While the mute'squire and star-enamour'd beau Are tase in all thly can-an "ay" or "no!" With equal scorn he views the venal train, And sordid bribe that such a tribe can gain. And a little further on: But if opprcssion lord it o'er the land, AnD frio-c alone can lawless force withstand, LIFE OF CURRAN. Fearless he follows where his country calls, And lives with freedom, or with glory falls; He gives that shackle he disdains to wear, For endless fame, nor thinks the purchase dear. This may not be very good poetry, but it.evinces, what is more honorable to the writer, and what was in those days of more value to Ireland than good poetry, an indignant sense of her condition, and an impatience to redress it. It will hereafter appear how far he fulfilled the engagements of his youth. From the above and similar productions,* and from the indications of talent that his ordinary conversation afforded, great hlopes t'v')' now entertained of him. According to all the accounts of those who knew him at this time, his colloquial powers were even then of a very high order. Having no hereditary fortune or powerful connections on which to depend, and having embraced an ambitious and hazardous profession, where, without the reputation of superior ability, there was little prospect of success, he appears to have habitually exerted himself upon every occasion to substantiate his claims, and justify his choice. The following judgment was passed upon irn, at this period, by his future father-in-law, Dr. Richard Creagh, of Newmarket, a scholar and a man of cultivated taste, whose prediction, in -.he present instance, has been so completely verified. After mentioning, in one of his letters, the fixture ornament of the Irish bar), As a young man of this town, one Jack Curran," he proceeds,:;n~ke his character from me. tie possesses a good. underlsta:! in s an eellent scholar; has some taste, and, for his yea —s', I' tl ilmk, a tolerable judgment; has uncoln on ablilities; is a hpIicit i' nmlusic.; has received an university education; is now prepaing tfor the Lar, for * During the two years that preceded his admission to the bar, he wrote, besides the poem of "Friendship," "Lines upon visiting the Cave of Pope," and " Lines upon the poisoning a stream at Frenchay" (where he had been dri-.en by foul winds, in one of his passages from.England to Ireland), which he comnpose for the purpose of expressing his gratitude to a family of that place, who ihad given him a rver hospitable recep. tion, —O. HIS EARLY FRIENDS. 3 which profession he possesses extraordinary talents, and will disappoint all his friends if he does not distinguish himself there. As far as I can observe, he seems'o be extremely cheerful and goodnatured, and is remarkable pleasant in conversation.'* In a letter of about th( same date from one of Mr. Curran's earliest friends, Mr. Hudsoi, we find similar expectations prevail; alluding to the melancholy that ran through a letter he had just received from the other, he says-" Consider, now and then, Jack, what you are destined for; and never, even in your distresses, draw consolation from so mean a tliought, as that your abilities may one day render your circumstances easy or affluent; but that you may one day have it in your power to do justice to the wronged, to wipe the tear from the widow or orphan, will afford the satisfaction that is wvorthy of a man." It would be injustice to suppress another passage. Having a little before chided his friend for neglecting to inform him of the state of his finances, Mr. Hudson goes on, "I think I shall be a man of no small fame to-morr,.w or next day, and though'tis but * Doctoi Creagh was a physiclan, and a member of a very respectable family of that name in the county ef Cork. Mtch of the earlier part of his life had been passed on the Continent, where he had mixed in the society of the most celebrated men of talent; but he used often to declare th!at, neither abroad nor at home, had he ever met so delightful a companion as " young Jack Curran;" yet, the conversation of the latter was not, at this time, what it subsequently became. It was full of vivacity and of anecdotes, to which he could give an extraordinary degree of dramatic effect; but it had not, as at a later period, those inccssa:t and ma* ical transitions from the most comic trains of thought to the deepest pathos, which were for ever bringing a tear to the eye, before the smile was off the lip; nor that surpr'sing control over all the mysteries of language, which he acquired by his subsequent habits of extemporaneous speaking. Dr. Creagh was a determined Whig, and had, no doubt, an influence in confirming the political inclinations of his sonin-law. It was also from Dr. Creaglh, who had spent several years in France, and was an excellent French scholar, that Mr. Curran derived much of his early taste for the language and literature of thz:. country.-C. t Mr. Edward Hudson, for a long course of years the most eminent dentist in Ireland. —. He ouilt a beautiful mansion near Dublin, and asked Curran what order of architecture he should adopt. Gaily smniling at the dentist, the wit replied, " The Tesk-an, of course." In allusion to this, Hudson was commonly spoken of, familiarly, as The Grand Duke of Tusk-any;" and whet) his nephew entered the military service of a foreign country, Curran said t sat't: ycu;zg ma-i's first engagement would naturally be the Battle of Pul.tusk.- M. 33 LIFE OF CURRAN; the fame of a dlentist, yet if that of an honest man is added to it;, I shall not be unhappy. Write speedily to me, and if you are in want, think I shall not be satisfied with my fortunes-believe me I shall never think I maell1 a better use of my possessions than when such a. friend as Jac-k can assist me in their uses." The amiable and:spectable writar of the above still lives [1819], and if the union of the two characters, to which, iL his youth, he aspired, could confer happiness, he has been completely happy. Many other proofs might be added (were it necessary) to show that Mr. Curran was, even at this period, considered as much more than an ordinary man; that he had already obtained a very high degree of estimation in the opinions of civery 1i erson of discernment who knew him. To be regarded as an oflject of admiration and of hope by the immediate circle of his friendy, is, indeed, no more than happens to every young man of any intellectual pretensions; but to Mr. Curran's ho-nour it should not he overlooked, that the friends who enteriuined such sentin-lents toi.ards I:I were, all of them, those whose zr:;1 and appIr:-'ation lie l:di won for himself by his own character Andl talent Is; nor was a mere general respect for the latter the only feeling that united! them with him —they all appear to have been fcnimated by the most anxious and affectionate attachment to his person. Their letters to him abound with expressions of more than usual endearment, with offers of pecuniary supplies, and many other uneolnivoca.l demonstrations of the extremle value in which they 1heldh liim. At this period of life he used to pass considerable intervals of time at his native village, where he always entered, with thie most goodnatured vivacity, into all the little parties and interests of the place. He, whose lofty and independent spirit wras a few years after to bring upon him the charge of " lecturing' ie Privy Council,"* was in his social intercourse so little fil.tidi,i)s or assuming, that he could find a-bundant amusement amolng thu harmless wits and politicians of an obscure little town. Nor were these mere * An expression of Lord Clare's. The whole scene is gaen hei cater. —;' LETTRE FROM LONDON..39 temporary feelings, adopted for convenience, and as evanescent as the occasions that excited them-all his impulses were intensely social, and, whether present or absent, his heart was still in the midst of the firiends and companions that he loved. His letters from the Temple abound with proofs of these amiable propensities; in none of them is the Newmarket circle omitted; he dedicates a portion of every day to thinking of them, and of every letter to inquiries after their health and foitunes. This unpretending facility of manners, showing how little natural the alliance between superiority of intellect and austereness of demeanour, continued ever after prominent in his character; and from the event we may learn that such cheerfill, conciliating, and sympathising habits are the surest road to lasting friendships. Of these, few persons ever enjoyed more-the greater number have gone where he has followed-still a few, and among theml some of his earliest friends, survive; and it is no less honourable to their constancy than to his memory, that the same men, who, more ithan forty years ago, were cheering his efforts, and admitting him to their affections, are, at this day, with unabated ardour, mourning his loss and cherishing his fame. The despondency which Mr. Curran's generous correspondent has just been seen so anxious to alleviate w.vas not merely casual. Notwithstanding the liveliness of his conversation, fiom which a stranger would have supposed that his spirits never knew depression, he was all his life subject to visittations of constitutional nmelancholy, which the most ordinary acc(idents excited and emb;ttered; even at this early time it may be observed constantly breaking out in his communications to his friends. After having passed the long vacation of 1 7741 witlh his family in. Ireland, he thus writes to one of them tpoli his retrn to London: "Apjohn and I arrived in London tabout eight o'clock on i'hllrsday. When I was set down, and threw myself into a brox in the next coffee-house to me, I think I never felt so strangely in Piet life. The struggle it cost me to leave Ireland, and the pairl 40 LIFE OF CURRAN. of leaving it as I did, had been hurried into a sort of numbness by the exertion of such an eflbrt, and a certain exclusion of thought, which is often the consequence of a strong agitation of mind: the hurry also of the journey might in some measure have contributed to soothe for a moment these uneasy sensations. But the exertion was now over, the hurry was past; the barriers between me and reflection now gave way, and left me to be overwhelmed in the torrent; all the difficulties I had encountered, the happy moments I had lately passed, all now rushed in upon my mind, in melancholy succession, and engrossed the pang in their turn. Revolving in his alter'd soul The various turns of chance below, And now and then a sigh he stole, And tears began to flow.'At lenth I roused myself from this mournful reverie, and, after writing a few words to Newmarket, set out in search of some of my old acqtuaintance. I sought them sorrowing, but there was not even one to be found; they had either changed their abodes or were in the cou.ntry. How. trivial a vexation can wound a mind that is or,:e depressed! Even this little disappointment though it was of no consequence, though it could not surprise mie, yet had the powier to afflict me, at least to add to my other mortifications. I couid not help being grieved at considering how inuch more iniportant changes may happen even in a shorter timel; how the (learest hopes and most favorite projects of the heart Inay flour1ish, and flatter us with gaudy expectations for a moment, and then, suddeimll y disappearing, leave us to lament over our wret( htedness and our c, redulity. Pleased with the novelty of the word, we tasten eagerly on the bauble, till satiated with enjoymenlt, or disgusted with disappointment, we resign it with contmlll)t. The vworld, in general. follows our example, ant,.:Yi are soon tlhrown aside, like baubles, in our turn. And yet, dill o.r,' as the prospect is,,it is no sma1ll consolation to be attc'sed to, PECULIAITTIES OF STYLE. 41 and to be assured of the attachment of some worthy affectionate souls, where we may find a friendly refilge from the rigours of our destiny; to have even one congenial bosom on which the poor afflicted spirit may repose, which will feelingly participate our jdys or our sorrows, and with equal readiness catch pleasure from our suc esses, or strive to alleviate the anguish of disappointment." In another letter, written a few weeks after, the same unfortunate sensibility is more strikingly exemplified, and more vigoroUZi!y iexpressed. In one passage we clearly recognise the peculiarities of' his subsequent style. ". tliis (lay left my lodgings; the people were so very unruly that [ cotuld stay no longer; I am now at No. 4, in St. Martin's Streel, Leicester Fields, not fir fron) my foilem.r I'ez,]ence. You will perhaps slnile at the weakness, yet I must confess it; never did 1 feel myself so spiritless, so woe-begone, as whelu I w^as i:reparing for the removal. I had settled myself with an expectation of remaining till I;Jcould finally depart for Ireland; I was now leaving it before that period, and my spirits stink into a mixture of peevishness and despondence at the disappointment. I had emptied the desk belonging to the lodgings of my few moveables, which I collected in a heap on the floor, and prepared to dispose Df in my little trunk. Good heavens! in how many various parts, and iby how many various ways may the poor human heart be wounded! Is it that even Philosophy cannot so completely plunge her children in the waters of wisdlom, that an heel, at least, will not be left vulnerable, and exposed to the danger of an arrow Is the fable equally al)plicable to the mlind as to the body? And is all our firmness and intrepi(lity fotunded ultimnatelv on our weakness and our foibles? May all our giant fortitude be so lulled into slumber, as, ere it awakes, to be chained to the ground by a few Lilliputian grievances, and held immnoveably by such slender fetters Why else shall we be unaccountably depressedl I To leave the friends of my heart, to tear myself 42 LI'FE OF CURRATN from their last affecting farewell, to turn my face to a distant region, sen)arated from them by mountains, and oceans, and tempests; to mndure all this with something like calmness, and yet to feel pain at changing from one street to another! Strange inconsistence! and yet so it was. I proceeded very slowly to fill the trunk. I could not please myself in the packing. Solne letters now presented. themselves; I could not put them in without reading. At length I made an end to the work, and fell into another reverie; I called to mind my first acquaintance with mnS little trunk; I industriously hunted my melory'f or every thin,g ttla.. aully way Mrelated to it, and gave my recollection a geat. deal (.,r eredit for being so successfill in making me mise":.}nle. h t iAl;gith I o'ot it belilld Tom Gess, and s isv,or'',;lu: edl:l'inl, forward to ax(id its jolf'in,, an on1 ging, ebe eiel!':lis Ii lumtrance. I saw i-. nlit.- o'' or,'( ho\rlw ntillny bilows a it wafted, friomn Cork to BrisTol, ortver hLow many miles fioln Brist'ol to London! And how small a portion of tlhatt distance mnust it nlecasure lack to-day! And mtust I be'equally slow in my return?,7it}t such sensations I left Mr. Tu rnetr's, pelihap:s as completely nliserable as a ny tn an in London." Of some of his occupations, lie gives the following account: "As to my amusements, they are very few. Since I wrote last, I went to onle play. I commonly spend even more time at home, thlan I can employ in reading of an improving and aimusing kind.* As I live near the Park, I walk there some time every day. I sometimes find entertainment in visitinlg the diversity of eatingplaces with whlich thlis town abounds. Here every coal-porter is a politiciantl ad vends his maxims in public with all the iinportance of a mailn who thinks he is exerting himself for the public service': lte c4l.aimlls thle privilege of looking as wise as possible, and * Mr. Curran's cotemporaries at the Teimple have corlfirmed his Own anccount of his habits at that period. He rose very early, studied till he was exhausted, and thesl wer;t out in search of his fellow students, with whom he passed the interval till the evening, when they all' generally repaired to any debating society that was open. Diring his second year at the Temple, he spent a considerable portion of!.;- time in the courts ot law -C. ROMANCEt OF REAL LIFE. 43 of talking as loud, of damning the ministry, and abusing the king, with less reserve thlan he would his own equal. Yet, little as these poor people understand of the liberty they contend so warmly for, or of the measures they rail against, it reconciles one to their absurdity, by considering that they arn. happy at so small an expense as being ridiculous; and ti',O.,;et'.ainlly receive more pleasure fiom the power of abusing, than'they would from the reformation of what they condemn. I take the more satisfaction in this kind of company, as, while it diverts me, it has the additional recommendation of reconciling economy with amusement. "Another portion of tilne I have set apart every day for thlinking of my absent fiiends. Though this is a duty that does not give much trouble to many, I have been obliged to confine it, or endeavour to confine it, within proper bounds: I have, therefore, made a resolution to avoid any reflections of this sort, except in their allotted season, that is, immediately after dinner. I am then illn a tranquil, happy humour, atIt 1 inracease that happiness by presenting to my fancy those I love in the most advantage Acus point of view: so that lowevevlr.Severely I treat them when they intrude( in the morning, T:.,tke th'olul anmple amends in tithe evening; I then assure m:l.:If titt. they are twice as agreeable, and as wise and as gos., as they really are." The coLclusiou of this letter shall be given, if not for the sake of the incidents, at least to show the writer's sensibility to any pathetic occurrence that fell in his way. "I have lately made two acquaintances; one a Frenchman, Dr. Du Garreau; the other is a German, Mr. Skell, for whom I am indebted to the doctor. With this latter I am not yet nmuch acquainted; the folrner is really a man of understanding, and, I believe. of worth: he is the son of an advocate in Paris, and practised there hinmsel, as a physician, for some time. He had conceived an affection for a young lady with whomr the dilierence of their religion prevented his union at home; but, alas! I believe love is of no particular sect; at least so tle lt it was,lot any particular class that looked to or obtainled a seat ir to.t assembly: the ambition of appearing there was verl,g;ueral at the Irish bar; it was the grand object upon which every enterprising barrister fixed I:is:eye and his heart. This was the age of political speculatir.; it was" Ireland's lifetime." Great original Questions were dri.lv in her Parliament: the struggle between popular claimns and ancient prerogatives was a scene wherrc much seemed likely to bt- gained — by the venal for themselves, by t]:e honest for their country; but whether considered as a post ~of honDour or of profit, i: was one to which men of colder temperaments than the IiAsh might be easily moved to aspire. The consequence of this intermixture of political with legal pursuits was, that the talents most suited to advance the former were much culltivated ami constantly exercised; and firom this difference in the objects and habits of the bars of the two countries appear to have principally resulted the different styles of oratory disllayed by the members of each, both in their parliamenlt;ry andl blrensic exertions. The English barrister, long disciplin:l to technical observances, having passed the vigour of his intellect in submissive reverence to rules and authorities, brings into the House of Comlmors the same subtle propensities, and the same LIFE OF CURRAN. dread of expanded investigation and of rhetoricald or alna nt that his professional duties imposed; but in Ireland tile leading eoun sel were also from an early age distinguished rlerobers of the senate. If in the morning their horizon was bouinded by their briefs, in a few hours their minds were free to rise, and extend it as far as the -statesman's eye could reaeh; tley had the daily excitation and turmrult of polta debate to clear away any momaentary stagnations of fancy Or enterprize; the lawyer became enlarged into the legislator, ald instead of 4itroducing in.tothe efforts of the latter the coldness a;:d constraint of his professional manner, he rather delighted to carry back with him to the forum, all the fexvour, and pomp, and copiq- esaa of the deliberative style. ThLe Parliame-nt of Irelai 1,. e n ulrse of the genius and ambition of its bar, is now oxtinac,; but t~e: imnpnulse that it gave is Vtot yet spent; the old have not yet forgotteni the inspiration of [he.;,ene where they beheld so many accromplished orators pass their u:ost glorious hours; the young canl ot hear without a throb of emu tion. the niany wonderous tlilngs of tlat pr1oud work of th eir fti hers, wlich. was levelled for L.aving towered too high; nor is.he general regret of' the bar fbr its fall unincreased bv their possession and daiiy admiration of two, noble and still perfect reiics, attesting the mnag-ifico:c of tle structure they have survived.* Another peculiarity of the lihle bar that is now paJsing away, bat which prevailed to a great esxtent during Mr, Cullrran's forensic career, was the frequency of collision between the btar and the bench. It was often his fate to be involved in them, and many are the instances of the promptness of repartee, and of the indignant intrepidity with which, on all such occasions, he defended the * Messrs. Bushe- and, Plunkett, two of' the members of the Ilish House of Commons, the most distinguished for eloquence, continue at the Irish bar. —C. [This was written in'1S18. Bushe became Lord Chief Justice of Ireland in 1822, atd (lied in 1848. Plunkett, twice; Irish Lord Chancellor, died 1854, a British Peer.-L.] .TUDrICATf, _ro.OTIONS. 65 privileges of the advocate. it will be presently seen that he had scarcely appeared at the bar, when he showed how he could encounter and triumph over all the taunts and menaces of a hostile judge. The same spirit of resistance and retaliation will be fundi in his contests with Lord Clare; and at a much subsequent period, when he was exertin:7 himself in a cause with his ceiaracteristic firmness, the preAiding judge having called the sheriff to be ready to take into custo-'v any one who should disturb the decorum of his court,')(!)o, Mfr. Sheriff," replied Mr. Curran, "no and get ready my dungco; prepare a bed of straw f.ib mn; and upon that ted I shal: to-night repose with more tranquillit-y than I should enjoy were T sitting upon that bench with a consciousness that I disgiaed it.." The same political calaus,' that have been already M, a;:tled to as influencing the oratory (f the Irish bar, will, in a great mo. 3ule, account for these confi'cts in the courts, and for that tone of s rcasm and defiance ass; me ed by the barrister on such occasions. It was one of the public calamities of the period when such scenes were most fiequent, that, in the selection of persons to fill the judicial seat. ne.;re attention was often paid to famnily interest and political services t]an to the claims of merit, or the benefit of the commrnnuityv Nt. doubt, it sometimes happened that this ilmportant office was bes't.,ved upon men, to whom the appointment to situations of hnmo,.r and of trust was less a gift, than the payment of the justest d(let.- What dignity could be too exalted for the learned and a'lcomnlis;1-d Lord Avonmore? What trust too sacred for Lord Kilwuaden, th. most conscientiou-. and pacifi,:. and merciful of men?* lut if TIreland beheld such p, rsons * Arthur Wolfe, son of a country gentleman in Kildare, was lorn in 1739, became a barrister, and soon after, a member of the Ihish parliament. Il ifl's latter capacity, siding with the government, he contended with Flood and Grattan. He was appointed Solicitor-General in 1787, Attorney-General in 17S9, and Chief Justice of Irelanl it 179`l%, being thlel created Lord Kilwarden * in 18i00 was raised to the rank of Viscount, and in 1802 ywas made Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin. On the evening of July 23, 1808 (Iwhen Elimett's insuerection prematurely broke out), Lord Kilwarlen was met by a band of a'mled men, in TIhomila street, Dublin, who killed him and his nephew by stab, 66 LIFE OF CUBRAN. a..:lling 2h..ir station, she had the anguish and humiliation to sc( u,:lers *J;3cTrading it by their political fury, or by the more ind cent gra.lfication of their particular animosities. Influenced by such unworthy feelings of party or of private hostility, the judges, in those days, were too prone *to consider it a branch of their official duty to discountenance any symptoms of independence in their court; and though at times they may have' succeeled, yet, at others, indignant and exemplary was the retaliation to,l.,ia( h such a departure from their dlignity exposed them: for it was not unusual that the persons w1-ho nmade these experiments upon the,. ilrit of the bar, and whose politics and connections had raised thetl to a place of nominal superiority, were, in public considera:il,),!, and in.every intellectual respect, the inferiors of the men thal:t zhey undertook to chide. It sometimnes happened, too, that the parties, whose powers might,)e less unequal, had been lid pi-Iltiainentary antagonists; and wheln'he imputed crimes of; op)positionist came to be visited upon the advocate, it is not surprising that he should have retorted with pride, and acrimoVr, and contemlpt. Hence arose in the Irish Coumrts those scenes of pelsonal contention, which the different ch:iracter of the bench in later times precludes, and which (whatevr s.ide gain the victory) must be ever deprecated as'ruinous to tl:e lHieint, and disgracefill to that spot, within whose precincts f;.itioi; and passion should never be permitted to intrude. But though the solemnity of ju.iicipl proceedings in Ireland minght have been often disturbed;)- the preceding causes, they,aive been more frequently enlivenled by others of a less unamiable descriiition. Notwithstanding the existence there of that religious and political bigotry whlicl: tends to check every cheerful impulse, and, in their place, to substitute general distrust and g4ooln, these baneful effects have been powerfully counteracted by the more Ab!ing!hem with pikes. It was supposed that his administration of the Criminal Law, in 1-i7, had createkd enmity to him. Lord Kilwarden, who supported the Union, was an Ultoquent Spet.cr, itl th11 Sernate az well as at the bar, and a very eminent lawyer.-M. FORENSIC JOCULARITY. 6 7 prevailing influence of the national character. The honest kindly affieftions of nature, though iiupede(&, have still kept on their course. In spite of all the sufferings and convulsions of the last century, the social vivacity of the Irish was proverbial. It subsisted, as it still subsists, in an eminent degree, in their privoate ilntercourse; it may be also seen constantly breaking forth in their public discussions. At the bar, where the occasions of jocularity so frequently occur, it is, as might be expected, most strikingly displayed. The Irish judges have not disdained to resign themselves to the favourite propensity of their country. The humrorollrs sally or classical allusion, which would have pleased at the t:rble, has not been frowned upon from the bench; their hbbits of social intimacy with the bar, and tbeir own tastes as scholars and companions, have rather prepared them to tolerate, and even join in those lively irregularities which the more severe decorum of Westminster Hall ilmi'ht condemn. This urbanity and indulgenc.e sti!l remains; and scarcely a termln passes over without mmsv a-ldditions, either from the bar or the bench, to the large find of I'ish forensic humuour.* A more fiequent and less dignified description of mirth, of which so much may be observed in the legal proceedings of Ireland, is that which originates in the particular character of the lower orders of that country. They abound in sagacity and repartee-qualities to whichll, when appearing as unwilling witnesses, or when struggling under the difficulties of a cross-examination, they seldom fail to fly to shelter. Their answers, on such occasions, are singularly adroit and evasive,t and the advocate is conseqently obliged to adopt every artifice of humour and ridicule, as more effectual than seriousness or menace, to extract the truth and expose their equivocations. The necessity of employing * It is worth noting that the jokes which now amuse judges, counsel, clients, and witnesses, in Courts of Law, are notoriously poor ones. Real forensic fun and wit appear ro. have disappeared. This holds good on both sides of the Atlantic. —M. t See Mr. Curran's cross-examination of O'Brien, inserted hereafter,- C. $8 LIFE.~ Q0'F VURRAX such methods of conf.otLrjin thle klaviph igrrenuity of,a witness, perpetually occasions the riost striking contrtsts bc tween the solemnity of the subjects, and the ievity of tle language in which they are investigated. It is particularly in the Irish criminal courts that scenes of' this com-plicated interest most constantly occur, In tle front appear the counsel and the evidence in a dramatic contest, at which the auditors cannot refrain from bursts t' laughter, and at a little distance behind, the prisoner under trial, jga'.r;g Jpon them with agonized attention, and catching at a prv.agt. of his fate in the alternating dexterity or fortune of the vombatants.'TIlin intru.-,on of levity into proceedings that should be marked by pomIp anld,!ignity may be indeem.t, btlt it is inevitable. Without this latitude of examination, no right would be secure, and, when exerted, no gravity can resist its influence; even the felon's'isage, is often roused from its expression of torpid despair by the saliies t.nat w~ccoinpany the disctlosure of his crimes. As long, l},ere;'il, as tie Irish populace retain their present cLaracter of:'i\tacix arti:;;uteness, the Irish advocate must cultivate and dis. play ilis powers of humour, often, perhaps, to a greater extent than his own better taste would desire; and the courts, aware of the necessity of such an instrument for eliciting the trutb, will not consider i. incmnbent on them to interfere with its use. EARLtY RfPUTATiON. (69 CHAPTER IV. Mri. Curran's early success at the bar-His contest with Judge Robinson —His defence of a Roman Catholic priest-His duel with Mr. St. Leger —Receives the dying benedictton of the priest-,-Lord Avonmore's friendship-His character of Lord Avonmore —.M.niks of St. Patrick, and list of the original members-Anecdotes of Lar- Avonmore-Mr. Curran's entrance into Parliament. qMa. Cya'RRA.N has been frequently alluded t., as one of the many examllples in the history of the bar, of the hlighest talents remlaining for a long time unknown and unrewarded. This, however, was inot the fact: so general was the reputation of his abilities, and so numerous his personal fiiends, thb; Ille became employed ii.imediattly, and to an extent that is..:' Iulusual with those, who, like him, have solely depended upon t'.cir own exertions and -upon accidental stilupport.* Th'e filure of Mr. Curran's first attempt at,;peaking has been:etitilld:. a li, ore sing'uliat instance of that nervousness which.; li'cqently accompanies the highest capacity, uc, curred to him il on 1his debut in the courits. The first brief that he held was in tlm Court of Chancerty; he had,;ltv to read a short sentence front his in!tr. ltions, but lie did it so precipitately and inaudibly, that the chancellor, Lord Lifforid retquested of him to repeat the wiNords, and to raise his voice: upon this his agitation became so extreme that he was unable to articulate a s.llable; the brieJ dropped fromn his hands, and a friend who sat beside him %was obliged to take it up and read the necessary passage.t * The fact of his early practice appears froih his 0Wui fe5-bouk, mn which the receipts commence fromr the day after he rwas called to the ba'r. The first year produced eigflty. two guineas, the second between one and two hundred, and so on, in a regularly acreasing proportion.-C, t llordl Eskirsne, on his debut a;t the English bar, is said to have been equally nervous, 70 LIFE OF CURRAIN. This diffidence, however, totally vanished whenever he had to repel what he conceived an unwarrantable attack. It was by giving proofs of the proud and indignant spirit with which lhe could chastise aggression, that he first distinguished himself at the bar: * of this his contest with Judge Robinson is recorded as a very early and imenmorable instance. Mr. Curran having observed in some case before that judge, " That he had never met the law as laid down by his lordship, in any book in his library," " That,nay be, sir,";a4id the judge, in an acrid, contemptuous tone; "but I suspect tieat your library is very small." His lordship, who, like too many of that time, was a party zealot, was known to be the author of sevc.: al anonymous political pamphlets, which were chiefly conspicu,,,,s for their despotic principles and. excessive violence. The young barrister, roused by the sneer at his circumnstances, replied that true it was that his library might be small, but he tllnkpT ]leaven that, among his books, there were nolne of the wretched.c.oductions of the frantic parmphleteers of the day. "I find it more instructive, my lord, to study good works than to comiose bad ones; my books may be few, but th, title-pages give me the writers' names' my shelf is not disgraeed by Cany of slu: l rank. absurdity that their very autholis are ashamed to owi them." I-e was here interruptel 1y, the judge, who said, " Sir, you are forgetting the respect which you- owe to the digity o' the judicial character." "Dignity!" ex.liimed Mr. Curran;' mny lord, upon that point I shlall cite you a case firom a book of some aluthority, with which you are I,,lrhaps not unacquainted. A poor until (to use his own words)' I thought I felt my hungry little ones pulling my gown, and that gave me courage to speak."-M. * fis first occasion of displaying that high spirit which was afterwards so prominent in his character, was at the election of Tallagh, where he was engaged as counsel, a few mlonths after his admission to the bar. One of the candidates, presuming upon his own rank, and upon the yotung advocate's unostentatious appearance, indulged in some rude language towards him; but was instantly silenced by a burst of impetuous and eloquent invectiv e, which -it at that time required an insult to awaken -O.. TIE RETORT. 71 SCotc. hlmaln,* upon his arrival in London, thinking himself insulted by a strangrer, and imagining that he was the stro)nger man, resolved to resent the affront, and taking off his coat, delivered it to a bystander to hold; but having lost the battle, he turned to resume his garment, when he discovered that he had unfortunately lost that also, that the trustee of his habilimnents had decamnped during the affray. So, my lord, when the person who is invested with the dignity of the judgment-seat lays it aside, for a moment, to enter into a disgracefil personal contest, it is vain, when he has been worsted in the encounter, that he seeks to resmne it-it is in vain that he endeavours to shelter himself from boehind an authority which he has abandoned." Judge Robinson-If you say another word, sir, I'll commit you. Mr. Curran —Then, my lord, it will be the best thing you'll have c<;tnlllmitted this term. The judge did not commit him; but he was understood to have soliclited the bench to interfere, and make an example of the advocate by depriving him of his gown, and to have received so little ~wloullagem, ent, that he thought it most prudent to proceed no ftlrthr in the affair.f F'rlom this, and many other specimens of spirit and ability, Mr. C;a'ratl's reputation rapidly increased; but it was not till he had been -four or five years at the bar that his powers as an advocate becamlle 1f1illl'? lawn. His first opportunity of displaying them wxas in a cu ce at the Cork Assizes, in which a RTo:naa Cat.holic priest, tle Rev. -lr. Neale, brought an action u:gainst a nobleman of that county (Lord Doneraile), for an assault and battery. * Perhaps it is'unne -ss: - y to remind most readers, that the Scotchman alluded to is Strap, in Smoll-'*'s Ro.ieric Random.-C. [Mr. O'Regan relates this reply to Judge Robinson as hav;ng i-;,n made, not by Curran, hut by Mr. Illoare, his frirnd and cotemporary. —M.] t As a companion to this anecdote, let me mention that, mince upon a time, when a. gigantic and ignorant barrister who had been wounded by some of the shafts of n'rlran's wit, half seriously threatened to put him in his pocket-Curran being of stunteJd tature and size-the quick retort was, " Do! and then you'll have more law in your pocltt tban 3'ou ever had in youl l.ei d I"-M. 72 LIFJE OF CUtRAN. The circumstances attending this case mark the melancholy condition of the times. They afford a single, but a very striking example.f those scenes of local despotism and individual suffering, of which, at this degraded period, Ireland was daily tlie witness and the victim. The nobleman in question had collntracted an intimacy with a young wotnan, Whose family resided in the parish of which the plaintiff in this action was the priest. This woman's brother hayving conmmitted some offence against religion, for which the Romran Catholie Bishop of the diocese had directed that the Censures of the church should be passed upon him, she solicited Lord Doneraile to interfere, and to exert his influence and authority for the remission of the offender's sentence. His lordship, without hesitationj undertook to interpose his authority. For this purpose he proceeded, accompanied by one of his relatives, to the house, or rather cabin, of the priest. As soon as he arrived there, disdaining to dismount fiom his horse, he called in a loud and imperious tone, upon the inhabitant to come forth. The latter happened at that moment to be in the act of prayer; but, hearing the voice, which it would have been perilous to disregard, he discontinued his derotioiis to attend upon tlie peei. The nminister of religion appeared before him (an affecting spectacle, to a feeling mztd, of infirmitv and lhumility), bending u nder years, his hcied uncovered. and holdingr in his hand the book Which was now his only source of hope anid contolatiol.; Iis lordslip orldered him to take off th seteese lately passed ipohn his favourite's brother. The priest, struggling betwieent his tetiporal fear's and the solemn obligations of hlis church, could only riply, with respect and Lhulmbleness, that he would gladly comiply with any injunction of his lordship, but that to do so in the plresent instance was beyond his power; that he was only a parish priest, and, as such, had no authority to remit nti ecclesiastical penalty imposed by his superior; that the Bishop alone could do it. To a second and more angry mandate, a similar answer was returned, upon which the nobleman, forgetting ATTIER NEAE'S C&SE. 73 what he owed to his own dignity, the pity and forbearance due to age, and the reverence due to religion, raised his hand against the unoffending old man, who could only escape the blows directed against his person by tottering back into his habitation, and securing its door against his merciless assailant. For this disgraceful outrage, to which the sufferer was exposed,'because he would not violate the sanctity of his'own character, and the ordinances of his church, for the gratification of a profligate woman, who chanced t, b'te,e mistress of a peer, he for some time despaired of obtaining redress. So great was the provincial power of this nobleman, and such the political degradation of the Roman Catholic clergy, that the injured priest found a difficulty in procuring an advocate to plead his cause.. At length, several to whom he applied having (according to the general report) declined to be concerned for so unpopular a client,* Mr. Curran justly conceiving that it would be a,stain upon his profession'if such scenes of lawless violence were allowed to pass without investigation, took a step which many considered as most romantic and imprudent, and only calculated to baffle all his prospects upon his circuit; he tendered his services to the unfriended plaintiff, and, the unexpected offer being gratefully accepted, laid the story of his unmerited wrongs before a jury of his country. No printed report of this trial has been preserved, but all the accounts of it agree that the plaintiff's counsel acquitted hin:self with eminent ability. And it is only by adverting to the state of those times that we can appreciate the ability that could obtain suieoess. This was not, as an ordinary case, between man and uvaii, where each may be certain of an equitable hearing. The. advocate had to address a cLass of men who were full of furious * In 17385, a Catholic nobleman (Lord Clancarty) brought an ejectment to recover his family estates that had been confiscated, but by a resolution of the Irish House of Commons, all barristers, solicitors, attorneys or proctors, that should be concerned for him, w',re voted public enemies (O'Contor'6 Ristory of the Irish Catholics, p. 218:) and in Ircland the prejudices, which had dictated sc iniquitous a measure, were not extinct in 1780.-C. 4 74 LIFE OF CURiRAN. and inveterate prejudices against his client. The very appearauvc~e of a Roman Catholic clergyman, obtruding his wrongs ulpon a court of justice, was regarded as a presumptuous novelty. To the minds of the bigoted jurors of that day, his demand of redress was an act of rebellion against the Protestant ascendency-a daring effort to restore a deposed religion to its throne. The cause had also, from the characters of the parties, excited the greatest public interest, and the sympathy of the public, as is always the case when no,:,idemic passions intervene, was upon the side of the oppres:ed; but the general expression of such a feeling was rather detrimental to its object. The crowds that filled and surrounded the court, upon the day of trial, were Roman Catholics, and were supposed, by a very obvious construction, to have assembled, not so much to witness a triumph of justice, as to share in a triumph of their religion. Upon such an occasion, the advocate had not merely to state the fact and apply the law; before he could convince or persuade, he had to pacify-to allure his hearers into a patient attention, and into a reversal of the hostile verdict, which, before they were sworn, they had tacitly pronounedel. These were the difficulties against which AMr. Curran had to contend, and which he overcame. The jury granted a verdict to his -client, with thirty guineas damages. So small a suln would now be deeaned a very paltry remuneration for such ani injury; but in Ireland, about seventy years ago, to have wrung even so much from a Protestant jury, in favour of a Catholic priest, against a Protestant nobleman, was held to be such a triumph of fPreno.i,' eloquence, and to be in itself so extraordinary a circumstance, that the verdict was received by the people at large as an important political event. In a part of his address to the jury in this case, the plain. tiff's counsel animadverted, with the utmost severity of invective, upon the unworthy conduct of the defendant's relative (Mr. St. Leger). who had been present, and countenancing the outrage MR. ST. LEGER. 75 upon the priest.* At length, his zeal and indignation hurrying him beyond his instructions, he proceeded to describe that gentleman (who had lately leffta regiment that had been ordered on actual service), as " a renegado soldier, a drummed-out dragoon, who wanted the courage to meet the enemies of his country in battle, but had the heroism to redetetn the ignominy of his flight from dagller, by raising his arnn against an aged and unoff;inding minister of religion, who had just risen from putting up before the throne of God a prayer of general intercession, in which his heartless insulter was included. As soon as the trial was over, he was summnoned to make a public apology for those expressions, or to meet Mr. St. Leger in the field. He was fully sensible -that his language had not been strictly warrantable, and that a barrister had no right to take shelter under his gown from the resentment of those whose feelings and character he might have unjustifiably attacked; but perceiving that an apology would, in the eyes of his countrymen, have tarnished the lustre of his recent victory, and that it mlight have the effect of inviting future challenges whenever he should perform his duty with the necessary boldness, he deemed it more eligible to risk his life than his reputation.t A duel * There was another circumstance during this trial which had given equal offence, and which, whatever judgment may be passed upon it now, was well calculated to influence the jury. Mr. Curran knew that Mr. St. Leger was to be produced as one of the defendant's witnesses, and it was in order to diminish the weight of his testimony, that he had described him as above. lie had, however, mentioned no name, but merely apprised the jury that such a character might be brought to impose upon them. When Mr. St. Leger;ame upel;, the table, and took the Testament in his hand, the plaintiff's counsel, in a tone of affected respect, addressed him saying, " Oh, Mr. St. Leger, the jury will, I am sure, believe you without the ceremony of swearing you; you are a man of honour, and of high moral p4ir iple; your character will justify us from insisting on your oath." The witless, decei:ed by this mild and complimentary language, replied with mingled surprise and irl'itation. " I n h'iappy, sir, to see you have changed the opinion you entertained of me when you were describing me awhile ago." " What, sir! then you confess it was a description of yourself! Gentlemen, act as you please, but I leave it to you to Fjr whether a thousand oaths could bind the conscience of such a man as I have just described." t When eaoh had taken his ground, Mr. St. Leger called out to his adversary to fire; 76 LIFE OF OURRAN. accordingly followel; upon which occasion Mr. Curran not only established for himself a character for personal intrepidity (an acquisition of no small moment in a country where the point of honour has always been so sacredly observed), but afforded infinite entertailltnint to the bystanders, by a series of those sportive sallies, which, blhetl t.le illnulse was on him, no time or place could repress. He declined returning Mr. St. Leger's fire; so that the aflair, after a singoi, shot, was tertlminated. A more solemn aind interesting scele soon followed. The poor priest was shortly after cal11-id away to anolther world. When he found that the hour of,l:athb xas at hade. he earnestly requested that his counsel, to whom he had solllthing of importance to communicate, miriht be brought into his piesence. Mr. Curran complied, and was conducted to the bed-side,I' his expiring client. The humhble selrvant of God had neither gold nor silver to bestow; but what he had, and what with him was above all price, he gavethe blessing of a dying Christian upon him who had employed his talents, and risked his life, in redressing the wrongs of the minister of a proscribled religion. Ile caused himself to be raised, for the last tilne, froin his pillow, and, placing his hands on the head of his young advlocate, pronounced over him the formal benediction of the Roman C;(tJ:olic ChisAij-,, as the reward of his eloquence and intrepidity. Mir. Curran had also the satisfaction of being assured by the lower orders of his countrymen, that he might nowt fight as many duels as he pleased, without apprehending any danger to his person-an assurance which subsequently becalnme a prophecy, as far as the event could render it one. Shortly after this trial, the successful orator was given to understand that his late triumph should cost him dear. As he was'' No, sir," replied he, "I am here by your invitation, and you must open the ball." A Little after, Mr. Curran, observing the other's pistol to be ai.ned wide of its mark, called,ut in a loud voice, " Fire!" St. Leger, who was a nervsas man, started, and fired: and: having died not long after, was reputed in Munster to have been killed by the report of his own pistol.-C. HIS PRACTICE INCREASES. 77 standing amidst'a circle of his friends in one of the public streets of Ct'ok, he was called aside by a person who brought him an intimation from Lord Doneraile, that in consequence of his late unprecedented conduct, he might expect never to be ernmloyed in future in any cause where his lordship, or his extensive coiTections, should have the power to exclude hin. The young barrister answered, with contemptuous playfulness, and in a voice to h)e overheard by every one: "My good sir, you i-iay tell his lordship that it is vain for him to be proposing terms of accorJlnlodation; for, after what has happened, I protest I think, while I live, I shall never hold a brief for him or one ofhis family." The introduction of these particulars may almost dlemand an apology; vet it is often by little things that the characters of timnes and' individuals are best displlayed, as (according to an eminent English writer) " throwing up little straws best shows which way the wind lies." Previous to this trial, Mr. Curran's fame and practice had been unusual for his standing; but after his display of eloquence and conduct upon this occasion, they increased with unprIci'delted rapidity.* It was probably, too, with this event that originated his great popularity among the lower orders of the Irish —a feeling which a little time matured into an abouinded veneration lor his capacity, colhined with a most devoted attachment to Lhis person. Their enthusiasm in this instance can be scarcely conceived by such as have only witnessed the coRmlnon marks of * The motto to the first carriage he set up on the strength of his fees was,'" PE:R VAlO CAsus," on which some person observed that he prudently omitted the late' par't of!he sentence, "per tot discrimrstina rerutm," which gave him, he said, a better opinion of his judgment than he was otherwise, inclined to entertain. It being remarked to him th'it he might have still sonticthing more appropriate; he answered, " Why, yes, to be surc,'Ore tenus.' but the herald p:i iter dissuaded me; he did not like the brevity of wit; and being then engageAu an t disovering, amidst the bones of the crusaders, armorial bearings suitable to the motto, I left to him the piofit of two syllables, and he counted out the letters-a course since, very wisely, I assure you, adopted in Chancel'y: nay, I rather think also by the common law courts; and thus you perceive, my friend, from what small sources great rivers begin to flow. God knows they sometimes lo inundate without fertilizing; but things l'eing so, who can force back those noxious streams?"-M. 78 LIFE OF CURRAN. respect paid io ordinary favourites of the people. So much of his life, and so many of its proudest moments were passed ill their presence, in the courts of Dublin, and on the circuit towns, his manners were so unaffectedly familiar and accessible, his genius and habits were so purely national, that the humblest of his countrymen, forgetting the difference of rank in their many common sympathies, fondly considered him as one of themselves, and cherished his reputation rnot more as a debt of gratitude to him than as a kind of peculiar triumph of their own.; These sentiments, which he never descended to any artifices to cultivate, continued unimpaired to his death, and will probably survive him many years. In relating the steps 1)by which Mr. Curran advanced to professional distinction, it would be an injustice to omit the support which he found in the friendship of the late learned and respected Lord Avonnmore, then Mr. Yelverton, a leading counsel at the Irish cbar. This excellent and rarely gifted man had himself risen from an humble station, and k n-owing, Iy experience, "how hard it is to climL)," was ever mast roempt in encouraging and assisting those whom he saw imitating his own honorable example. His friendship for Mr. Curran comnmenced in 177.5 (through the fatherin-law of the latter, Dr. Creagh, between whom and MIl. Yelverton an old and tender intimacy thad1 subsisted;) and, with the exception of a few intervals of temporary alienation from political differences, continued unimpaired to his death.* * Mr. O'Regan says, " Barry Yelverton, afterwards Lord Avonmore, probably possessed more of the vehemence of masculine intellect than most others of his countrymen. Comprehensive and luminous, of a copious wit and extelsive eradition, he was among the 6rhlcr of talent which Mr. Curran was to succeed. Lord Clhnumel had a coarse jocularity, w.ich was received as an useful talent. IMr. Burgh had the majesty of Virgil, and IDuquery the elegance of Addison. Temple Emmett possessed the vigour of a great and original mind; he was certainly a person of singular natural and q:...ecd tnloowments; a man who read Coke on Littleton in his bed, as others do Tom Jones or the Persian Tales. Of the chaste, accomplished and classic Duquery, it is related on his own authority, that he read Robertson on the day before his best displays, to catch his unrivalled style, and to harmonize his composition by that of the master of historic eloquence. He bad also to C-utend with the wit of Mr. Keller, and the unbending stubbornness of Hoars. LORD A)VONMORE. 79 In one of Mr. Curran's latest- efforts at the bar, we find hint fondly turning aside for a moment to indulge his respect for the iudlc:e and the scholar, and' his gratitude to the friend of h: younger years. The following is the character that he has s,]. e, of Liord Avonmiore. To strangers it may appear overwrought, but those who were familiar with the simple antique g,'ndleur of mind that dignified the original, recognise the fidelit) eof the likeness. "'I am not ignorant that this extraordinary conlstruction has received the sanction of another court, nor of the;cIrprise and dismay with which it smote upon the general he.:.lt of the bar. i am aware that I may have the mortification of being told in another country of that unhappy decision, and I foresee in what confusion I shall hang down my head when I am told it. Bat I cherish, too, the consolatory hope, that I shall bhe able to tell them, that I had an old and learned friend, whom I N ould put above t al the sweepings of their Hall, who was of a difierent opinion-who had derived his ideas of civil liberty from the purest fountains of Athens and of Rome-who had fed the youthful vigour of his studious mind with the theoretic knowledge of their wisest philosophers and statesmen-and who had refined that theory into the quick and exquisite sensibility of moral instinct, by conternplating the practice of their most illustrious examples-by dwelling on the sweet-souled piety of Cimon-on the anticipated Chris - tianity of Socrates-on the gallant and pathetic patriotism of Epaminondas-on that pure austerity of Fabricius, whom to nsmove John Fitzgibbon, afterwards Lord Clare, and Lord High Chancellor of Ireland, was a competitor whose ardent and energetic decision of character, whose precision of mind and legal capacity, rendered him a formidable rival. They did not uniformly run the same course of competition; Mr. Curran was not early qualified to start for the hunter's plate, nor had he ever much taste for the Olympics of a Castle chase; for such, he said, he was short by the head. Ynt Mr Curran often repeated, that had not the father of fir. Fitzgibbon pre-occupied tne groruid for his son, by one stage, he never should cr could have gone beyond him. B.t Buhenever these high-mettled racers started fairly, and'on an equai plain, Mr. Curran was always first at the winning-post.'-M. * Speech in the case of Mr. Justice Johnson, in the Court of Exc.heuJct, where Lord Avonmore presided.-C. [The date wa,, February 4 1805.]-M. 80 LITFE OF CURRAN. fiom his integrity would have been moro difficult than toI have pushed the sun from his course. I would add, that if he had seemed to hesitate, it was but for a moment-tntat his hesitation was like the passing cloud that floats across the morning sun, and hides it from the view, and does so for a moment hide it, by involving the spectator without even approaching the face of the luminary." Lord Avonmore was the person under whose auspices was formed, in the year 1779, a patriotic and convivial society-" The Monks of the Order of St. Patrick," * which was in those days * Of this society, so interesting as connected with the most splendid era of Ireland's history, Mr. Hudson has kindly supplied the following notice and list of the original members: This celebrated so ~iety was partly political and partly convivial; it consisted of twc parts, professed anld ads brothers. A.s the latter had no privileges, except thiat of commons in the refectory, thry are unnoticed here. The professed (by the constitution) consisted of members of.:i her house of parliament, and barristers, with the addition from the other learned pro.t isions of any number not exceeding one-third of the whole. They assembled every SaturdO v in Convent, during term-time; and commonly held a chapter before commons, at which the abbot presided, or in his (very rare) absence, the prior, or 3cnior of the officers present. Upon such occasions, all the members appeared in the biabit of the order, a black tabinet domino. Temperance and sobriety always prevailed. A short Latin grace, "Benedictus benedicat," and " Benedicto benedicatur" (since adopted as the grace of the King's Inns Society, in Dublin) was regularly and gravely pronounced by the przecontor or chaplain, before and after commons. It will be seen by the following list, that there were many learned men and men of genius in their number, and I may venture to say, that few productions (either in pamphlets or periodical publications) of any celebrity, during the arduous struggle for Irish emancipation, appeared, which did not proceed from the pen of one of the brethren. Nor did they forego their labours, till, by their prayers and exertions, they attained emancipation for their country. The sad change which has taken place since their dispersion need not be related. THE MONKXS OF THE ORDER OF ST. PATRICK. COMMONLY CALLED THE MONKS OF TEtE SCREW..dsemnbled at their Consvet in St. -Kevin Street, -sDuir., on and after September the 3d, 1779. 2Members' Names. 1. ousnde'r-Blarry Yelverton, barrister, M.P., since Lord Viscount Avonmore, Lord Chief Baron. 2. Abbot.-William Doyle, barrister, Master in Chancery. MONKS OF TFHE SCREW. 81 sufficiently celebrated, and composed of men such as Ireland could not easily assemble now. It was a collection of the wit, the 8. Prior.-John Philpot Curran, barrister, since M.P., Privy Counsellor and Master of the Rolls. 4. Prcecentor.-Rev. Wm. Day, S. F.-T. C. D. 5. Bursar'. —Edrard Hudson, Ml.D.* 6. Sacristan.-Robert Johnson, barr. M.r., and since a Judge.* 7. Arran, the Earl of. 8.., Barry, James (painter), elected an honorary member, never joined. 9. Brown, Arthur, barr. M.P., and F. T. C. D. 10. Burgh, Walter Hussey, barr., Rt. Hon. anl M.P., and since Chief Baron 11. Burston, Beresford, barr., and K. C.* 12. Carhampton, Earl of. 13. Caldbeck, William, barr., and K. C. 14, Chamberlayne, W. Tankerville, barr. M.P., and since a Judgo. 15. Charlemont. Eall of. 16. Corly, Rt. Hon. Isaac, M.P., and since Chancellor of the Exchequer. 1 1. Daly, Rt. Hon. Denis, M.P. 18. Day, Robert, barr. M.P., and since a Judge.* 19. Dodds, Robert, barr. 20. Doyle, John, M.P., and since a General in the army, and Bart.* 21. Dunkin, James, barr. 22. Duquety, Henry, barr., and M.P. 23. Emmett, Temple, barr. 24. Finucane, Matthew, barr., and since a Judge. 25. Fitton, Richard, barr. 26. Forbes, John, barr., M.P. 27. Frankland, Richard, barr., and NK.C. 28. Grattan, Rt. Hon. Henry, barr., and M.P. 29. Racket, Thomas, barr. 80. Hardy, Francis, barr., and M.P. (Lord Charlemont's biographer.) 81, Harstonge, Sir Henry, Bart. and M.P. 82. Herbert, Richard, barr., and M.P. 88, Hunt, John, barr. 84. Hussey, Dudley, barr., MZ.P., and Recorder of Dublin. 85. Jebb, Frederic, M.D. 86. Kingsborough, Lord Viscount, M.P. [afterwards Earl of Kirgstcn ] 87. Mocawen, -, barr. 88. Martin, Richard, barr., and M.P. 89. Merge, Peter, barr., M.P., and since a Judge. 40. Mornington, Earl of [the late Marquis Wellesley.] 41. Muloch, Thomas, barr. 42. Newenham, Sir Edward, M.P. 48. Ogle, Rt. Hon. George, M.P. * Surving.-C. L 1819]..4 4* 82 LIFE OF CUIRRAN. genius, and public virtue of the country; and though the name of the society itself is not embodied in any of the iiational records, 44. O'Leary, Rev. Arthur, honorary. 46. O'Neal, Charles, bair., K.C., and M.P. 46. Palliser, the Rev. Doctor, chaplain. I7. Pollock Joseph, barr. 48. Ponsonby, Rt. lion. George, barr., M.P., tndl since Chancellor of Ireland. 49. Preston, Willinam, barr. 50. Ross, Lieut. Col. M.P. 51. Sheridan, Charles Francis, barr., M.P., and Secretary at War. 52. Smith, Sir Michael, Dart. barr., M.P., and since Master of the Rolls. 68. Stawel, William, barr. 54. Stack, Rev. Richard, ~.T.C.D. 55. Townshend, Marquis or.* 66. Woolfe, Arthur, barr., M.P., and since Lord Viscount Kilwarden, Chief Justice King's Bench. The society dwindled away towards the end of the year 1795. Shortly after the formation of this club, Mr. Curran, having been one evening calledi upon for a song, gave one of his own composition, which Nwas immediately adopted as the Lh^,;er iong of the order. The following are all the verses of it that have been recollected. W\'rEN St. Patrick this order established, He called us the " M!:lks of the Screw;" Good rules he revealed to our -Abbot To guide us i;n what we should do. But first he r,,lenished our fountain With lieuor, the best in the sky; And lihe swore, on the word of a saint, That the fountain should never run dry. Each year, when your octaves approach, In full chapter convened let me find you; And, when to the convent you come, Leave your favorite temptation behind you. And be not a glass in your convent, Unless on a festival, found; i:na, this rule to enforce, I ordain it One festival all the year round. Mly brethren, be chaste, till you're tempted; Whilst sober, be grave and discreet; And humble your bodies with fasting, As oft as you've nothing to eat. * lAected, professed, and joined on his visit to Dublin, after his vice-royalty. LORD AVONMORE. 83 the names of many of its members are to be found in every page, and will be remembered, while Ireland has a memory, with gratitude and pride. The primary object of their association was to give hei a Constitution, and to nourish and diffuse among her people the spirit and intelligence which should render them worthy of the gift; and when the day arrived, as it shortly did, when the rights to which they aspired were not to be gained without aI struggle, the leading members of the " Order of St. Patrick" may be seen conspicuous in the post of honour and of danger. Mr. Curran always bore a distinguished part in their meetings; it was to them, and to the many happy and instructive hours he had passed there, that he so pathetically alluded in the fine burst of social enthusiasm which immediately follows the passage above cited. "And this soothing hope I draw from the dearest and tenderest recollections of my life-from the rcnlem'r?;rr-Ince of those Attic nights, and those refections of the gods, which. we have spent with those admired, and respected, and beloved companions, who have gone before us; over whose ashes the most precious tears of Ireland have been shed. [Here. Lord Avonmore could not refrain from bursting into tears.] Yes, my good Lord, I see you do not forget them. I see their sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory. I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy meetings, where the innocent enjoyment of social Yet, in honour of fasting, one lean face Among you I'll always require; If the Abbot should please, he may wear It, If not, let it come to the Prior.* Come, let each take his chalice, my brethren, And with due devotion prepare, With hands and Wvith voices uplifted Our hymn to conclude with a prayer, May this chapter oft joyously meet, And this gladsome libation renew, To the Saint, and the Founder, and Abbot, And Prior, and Monks of the Screw I * Mr. Doyle, tho Abbot, had a remsarkably largeo U foeei Mr. Curran' ws tb' 84: LIFE OF CUIRRAN. mirth became explanded into the nobler warmth of social viitu3, and the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizon,f man —where the swelling heart conceived and communicated tne pure and generous purpose —where my slenderer and' younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more matured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my Lord, we can remember those nights without any other regret than that they can never;aoG:c return, for " We spent them not in toys, or lusts, or wine, But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence, and poesy, Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine."* COWJn.. Lord. Avonmore was one of those men in whom a rare intellect and vast acquirements are fGund united with the most artless unsuspecting innocency of nature. Whatever the person in whom he confide-d asserted, he considered to be as undoubted as if he had uttered it himself. His younger friend, aware of this amiable imperfection, used often to trifle with it, a:,d. in imoments of playful relaxation, to practice harmless impositions upon his lordship's credulity. His ordinary artifice was to touch his sensibility, and thus excite his attention by relating in his presence.nme affecting inciderit, and, then pretending to be unconscious that his lordship was listening, to proceed with a detail of many.trange and improbable particulars, until he should be interiupted., as he regularly was, by the good judge's exclaiming, "Gracious heaveis! sir, is it posssible? I have overheard all those most truly aimazing circumstances, which I could never have * Lord Avonml,;o, in whose breast political resentment was easily subdued, by the same noble tenderne(t; of feeling which distinguished the late Mr. Fox upon a more celebrated c.casio-n, could rn,.t i.ittStar.i this appeal to his heart. At this period (1805) there was a suspersion of intercout se between him and Mr. Curran; but the moment the court rose, his Lordship sent for his friend, and threw himself into his arms, declaring that unworlhy artificee had been nsed t" separate them, and that they should never succeed in future. —- (, FOND OF ANTICIPATING.- 85 believed, if they did not come from such good authority." His lordship at length discovered the deception, and passing into the opposite extreme, became (often ludicrously) wary and incredulous as to every thing that Mr. Curran stated. Still, however, the latter persisted, and, quickening his invention as the difficulties micreased, continued from year to year to gain many a humour ous triumph over all the defensive caution of his firiend. Even upon the bench, Lord Avonmore evinced the same superstitious apprehension of the advocate's ingenuity, whom he would frequently interrupt, sometimes in a tone of endearment, sometimes of impatience, saying, "Mr. Curran, I know your cleverness; but it's quite in vain for you to go on. I see th,: drift of it all, and you are only giving yourself and me unnecessa'v trouble." Upon one of these occasions, the judge having frequently interposed to prevent the counsel's putting forward some top)ic that was really relative and neceisary to his case, declaring, ai often as it was attempted, that the tendency of his argument wa-s quite obvious, and that he was totally straying from the question, Mr. Curran addressed him thus: "Perhaps, my lord, I am straying; but you must impute it to the extreme agitation of my mind. I have just witnessed so dreadful a circumstance, that my imagination has not yet recovered from the shock." His lordship was now all attention. "On my way to court, my lord, as I passed by one of the markets, I observed a butcher proceeding to slaughter a calf. Just as his hand was raised, a lovely little child approached him unperceived, and, terrible to relate-I still see the life-blood gushing out, the poor child's bosom was under his hand, when he plunged his knife into-into " " Into the bosom of the child!" cried out the judge, with much emotion-" into the neck of the calf, my lord; but your lordship sometimes anticipates."* There are no reports of Mr. Curran's early speeches at the bar; but the celerity of his ascent to distinction in his profession, and in the public estimation, may be inferred from the date of his * Phillips alqo tells this story, but has worked it up too dramatically.-M. 86 LIFE OF CURRAN. entrance into Parliament. He had been only seven years at the bar, when Mr. Longfield (afterwards Lord Longueville) had him returned for a borough in his disposal.* At this time boroughs were the subject of notorious traffic, and it seldom happened that the members returned for them did not bind themselves to relt;anerate the patrons in money or in services. There was no such stipulation in the present instance; the seat was given to Mr. Curran upon the express condition of perfect freedom on his part; but having soon differed from Mr. Longfield on political sul,jects, and there being then no way of vacating, he insisted upon purchasing a seat, to be filled'hv any person whom that gentleman might appoint; an a r:lugelneurt. against which, it is but justice to add, that Mr. Longfield anxiousiyv endeavoured to dissuade him.t * The borough of Kilbeggan, for which the other member'as the celebrated Mr. Flood. It was also about thi0period that Mr. Curran obtained a silk gown.-C. t In the succeeding parliament Mr. Curran also came in, at his own expense, for the borough of Rathcormack.-C. TME RISH llOUSE OF COMMONS 1783. 87 CHAPTER V. lThe Irish House of Commons, in 1783-Sketch of the previous history of Ireland-Effects of the revolution of 1688-Catholic penal code-System of governing Ireland-Described by Mr. Curran-Intolerance and degradation of the Irish parliament-Change of system-Outennial bill-American Revolution-Its effects upon Ireland-The Irish volun. teers-Described by Mr. Curran-Their numbers, and influence upon public measures -Irish revolution of 1782-Mr. Grattan's public services-Observations upon the subsequent conduct of the Irish Parliament. IT was at the eventful era of i783 that Mr. Curran became a member of the Irish House of Commons*-an assembly at that day thronged with groups of original historic characters,t the * The manner in wbhic; Curran got a seat in Parliament has been thus related, as" well authenticated:" Lord LoLagueville, an Irish peer, with vast property, and large boroughinterest, wishing to avail himself of Curran's talents, offered him a seat in Parliament Curran replied that his politics were opposed to the party to which Lord L. belonged. He was reminded, with a laugh, that patriotism was unprofitable, and that, with a young family, his good sense would tell him so. Some time after, one of Curran's friends asked him for a frank, and informed him that he was gazetted as member for one of Lord Longuerille's boroughs. HIe took his seat, and voted against Lord L.'s friend, the minister. In explanation, he said that he entered Parliament independent and unshackled, and that so he would remain. At that time, he had saved only five hundred pounds. This money, and' about twice as much more, which he borrowed from his friends, he sent to Lord Longoeville, in payment for his seat.-M. t Of some of these, Mr. Grattan'(in his answer to Lord Clare's pamphlet, 1801) has given the following masterly sketches, over which he has, perhaps, u:. -onsciously distributed the noble traits which, if collected, would form the portrait of himself. " I follow the author through the graves of these honourable dead men, for most of them are so; and I beg to raise up their tombstones as he'throws them down; I feel it more instructive to converse with their ashes than with his compositions. " Mr. Malone, one of the characters of 1753, was a man of the finest intellect that any country ever produced.'The three ablest men I ever heard were Mr. Pitt tthe father), Mr. Murray, and Mr. Malone. For a popular assembly, I would choose Mr. Pitt; for a privy council, Murray; for twelve wise men, Malone.' This was the opinion which Lord Sackville, the secretary of 1753, gave to a gentleman from whom I heard it. He is a great sea in the calm,' said Mr. Gerrard Hamilton, another great judge of men and talents;'Ay,' it was replied,',but had' you seen him when he was young, you would have 88 LIFE OF CURRAN. vigorous product of unsettled times: great public benefactors, great public delinquents, but both of rare capacity and enterprise, said he was a great sea in a storm.' And like the sea, whether in calm or storm, he qwas a great prodeuctioe ofatcetr'e. "Lord Pery.-He is not yet canonized by death; but he, like the rest, has been canonlzed by slander. He was more or less a party in all those.measures which the pamphlet condemns, and indeed in every great statute and measure that took place in Ireland for the last fifty years. A man of the most legislative capacity I ever knew, and -the most comprenensive reach of understanding I ever saw; with a deep-engraven impression of public care, accomparite' by a temper which was adamant. In his train is every private virtue that can adorn human nature.' Mlr. Brownlow —Sir William Osborne.-I wish we had more of these criminals. The former seconded the address of 1782, and in the latter, andjin both, there was a station of mind that would have become the proudest senate in Europe. " Mr. Flood, my rival, as the pamphlet calls him: and I should be unworthy the character of his rival, if in the grave I did not do him justice.-He had his fau:r>; but he had great powers, great public effect; he persuaded the old, he inspired the young; the Castle vanished before him. On a small subject, he was miserable: put into his havdl a distaff, and, like Hercules, he made sad work of it: but give him the thunderbolt, and he had the arm of a Jupiter. He misjudged when he transferred hinmself to the English Parliament; he forgot that he was a tree of the forest, too old and too great to be transplanted at fifty; and his fate in the British Parliament is a caution to the friends of union to stay at home, and make the country of their birth the seat of their action.' Mr. Daly, my beloved friend.-He, in a great measure, drew the address of 1779, irn favour of our trade, that' ungracious measure;' and he saw, read, andl approved of the address of 1782, in favour of our constitution, that'address of separation.' He visited me in my illness, at that moment, and I had communication on those subjects with that man wh.ose powers of oratory were next to perfection, and whose powers of understanding, I might say, from what has lately happened, bordered on the spirit of prophey. " Mr. Forbes-a name 1 shall ever regard, and a death I shall ever deplore.-Enlightened, sensible, laborious, and useful; proud in poverty, and patriotic; he preferred exile to apostacy, and met his death. I speak of the dead-I say nothing of the living; but that I attribute to this constellation of great men, in a,great measure, the privileges of your country; and I attribute such a generation of men to the residence of your Pariiament. "Mr. Burgh: another great person in those scenes which it is not in the little quill of this author to depreciate.-He was a man singu;isrly gifted, with great talent, great variety-wit, oratory, and logic. JIe, too, had, his weakness; but he had the pride of genius, also, and strove to raise his country aki-zg with himself, and never sought to build his elevation on the degradation of Ireland. I moved an amendment for a free export; he moved a better amendment, and he lost his place. I moved a declaration of rights:' With my last breath will I support the -right of the Irish Parliament,' was his tnote to me, when I applied to him for his supportj he lost the chance of recovering his place and his-way to the seals, for which he might I'ave bartered. The gates of promotion were shut on him, as those of glory opened.';,-C. Walter Hussey Burgh, thus eulogized by Grattan, merits more particular notice. Called HIS POLITICAL FER.')O. v6 and exhibiting in their virtues or their crimes all the turbulent energy of the st rmns that were agitating their country. The Irish revolution of 1782, with the memorable acts and deliberations of which period the political history of Ireland commences, had just taken place; and, although it preceded by a little time Mr. Curran's entrance into Parliament, it still cannot but be adverted to as an event which bad a powerful influence upon the fortune and conduct of his future life. He was of too ardent a temper not to be deeply moved by the circumstances which accompanied that measure: he was the familiar friend of the eminent Parliamentary leaders who had been so instrumental in achieving it; he had witnessed the virtuous struggles and the scenes of civic heroism displayed by them, and by the nation, at this arduous crisis; and the impression that they made upon his imagination and his conviction was never after effaced. In order, therefore, fully to comprehend the feelings with which he entered upon his duties as an Irish senator, it will be necessary to make a few observations upon the condition in which he found his country, and upon that from which she had recently emerged. The fervour of his political opinions, and his devoted adherence to the popular cause, exposed him, at different periods of his life, to no little calumny and to the Irish bar, in 1T69, he had previously obtained a seat and won distinction in the Irish Parliament. In 1772, at-the early age of thirty-five, he was placed at the head of the Irish bar, as Prime Seijeant, in which he continued for two years, when, siding with Grattan against the government, on the question of Ireland's right to a free export trade, he resigned his lucrative office. It was restored to him in 1782, in which year he was made Chief Baron of the Irist Exchequer, declining a proffered peerage. He died the following year, before he had coompleted the age of forty. Irela n- might well be proud of such a man, whose persuasive eloquence made an tera at the Irish bar and in the senate, equally distinguished for the grace and harmony of his style, and the sweetosq; and fullness of his voice: of him it may be said, as of the GreeK orator, he cea-s te Bre. Burgh and Yelverton being both engaged on.pposite sides in some great and important cause, all the powers of their talents were called forth, as well by the interest the case excited, as by a competition for fame. In speaking of the effect of Bulgh's oration, Yelverto.a observed to a friend, that he'o,,i; have been satisfied that he had;Otained the victory; "' But," said he, "when I perceeired an old case.hardened attorney sitting in a distant corner of the court, and saw the tears silently coursing down his iron cheeks, and these wrung from him by the touching eloquence of Mr. Burgh, I confess," said Yelvcrton, "I felt myself vanquished." —M. LIFE OF CURRAN, reproach; but those who impartially consider the past and cotemporary history of Ireland will find, in every page of it, his excuse, if' not his most ample justification. For centuries Ireland had been in a state of miserable bondage; her history is but the disgusting catatloue of her sufferings, exciting to unprofitable retaliation, froml which she regularly sunk, subdued but untranquilized, into a condition of more embittered wretchedness,* with the penalties of rebellion superadded to the calamities of oppression. From the period of her annexation to England in the 12th century, down to the close of the 17th, she had thus continued, barbarous and restless; too feeble and disunited to succeed, too strong, and prouid, and irritated to despair; alternating in dreary succession between wild exertions of delirious strength and the troubled sleep of exhausted fury. It would be foreign to the present purpose to enter into the merits of these melancholy conflicts; to grope amidst uninteresting records to ascertain whether Ireland as an unruly province deserved her fate, or whether her condition was attributable to an inveterate spirit of vindictive domination in the English governments. But as we approach more modern times, all obscurity on the subject ceases: we find the ruling country adopted a formal avowed design of humiliation, which, however applauded (as it still continues to be by some) under the imposing phrase of the "wisdom of our ancestors," was, in reality, founded in much injustice, and, if effects be any test, in as much folly; and after agitating and afflicting the kingdom for the last century, seems likely to visit in its consequtrices the next. It was immediately after the revolution of 1688, that era of glory and freedom to England, that Ireland became the victim of tlhis systematic plan of debasement. Her adhe*" The. slave, that struggles without breaking L.Us l-.ain, provokes the tyrant'to double it, and gives him the pIlea c? self-defence for extiit.-;.-:!!:~'iiw hat at first he only intended to subdue." — l. Clr I'an's speecht in iioui\son's eriv. -.0. ENGLISH MISRULE. 91 ronce to the deposed monarch and its result are familiar to all. James's party having been crushed, Ireland was treated as a conquered country,!r:. merited nothing but chastisemuent and scorn. This was.ot the policy of the English king; it was that of the English whigs,* the framers of the Bill of Rights, the boasted ch ampions of liberty at home. By these mlen, and by their successors (who, of whatever political denomnination, agreed with them in their intolerance), was Ireland, without shame or pity, dismantled of her most precious rights. Laws were made to bin, her, without consulting the Irish parliamnent, which, when't remonstrated, was charged with riot wand sedition. t Ireland's commerce was openly discouraged: a code more fu.rious than bigotry had hitherto penned was levelled against the mass of the nation, the Roman Catholics. $ They were, successively excluded from the right to sit in Parliaiment, to acquire land, to hold any employment under the crown, to vote in elections of members of Parliament, to intermarry with Protestants, to exercise religious worship; in short, * I am sorry to reflect that since the late revolution in these king-loms, when the subjects of England have more strenuously than ever asserted their own ir't.s and the liberty of Parliaments, it has pleased them to bear harder in their poor neiglhl,ours than has ever yet been done in many ages foregoing."-Mfolynela;'o,7aluses qif I'relancl. This little volume, written throughout with a modesty and ability worthy of tt e friend of Locke, was formally censured by the English House of Commons., A A.:rc-:nst'-nce that preceded its publication is not without interest. The author, app-rehensive of any unconscious bias upon his mind, wrote to his friend for his opinion of some of the arguments; Locke replied by inviting him to pass over to England, and confer with him in ler,.':: upon the subject. Molyneux complied, and after spending, as the account states. a! l as may be well believed, the five most.delightful weeks of his life in the socie.y of IAis Ilustrious frienA, returned to Dublin, and published his work.-C. t When the Irish Commons, in 1792, claimed the right of originating money bills, they were told by the viceroy, Lord Sydney, that " They might go to England and bteg their nmajesties' pardon for their riotous and seditious assemblies." —C. " You abhorred it, as I did, for its vicious perfection; for I must do it justice, it was a complete system, full of coherence and consistency, well digested and well conuposed in all its parts. It was a machine of wise and elaborate contrivance, and as well fitted for the oppression, impoverishment, and degradation of a people, and the debasement In them of human nature itself, as ever proceeded firm the perverted ingenu!ty o' man."-Burke's Letter to Sir If. Llv2ngt'Lho. 92 LDE OF CURRAN. by a kind of constructive annihilation, "the laws Did not pre. sume a papist to exist in the kingdom, nor could they breathe without the connivance of government."-* This state of national humiliation lasted almost a century. Viceroy succeeded viceroy with no other rule of government than to continue the system as he found it. A race of subordinate ministers sprang up within the land, of no public virtue, no expanded thought, utterly un.onsciou, that man can. be improved; exhibiting in th.ir heartless mnatur.: s that practical ferocity for which jailors or k:se,)er.v wtold be s.-lected, rather than those mild and sanative qualities that might wave soothed the distei:rpers of the times. "Hence it i," said MTr. Curran, speaking of this period, "that the administratioen of ireland so often presents to the reader of her history, not h.e view of legitimate government, but rather of an encampment in the cturntry of a,arbarous enemy, where the object of a-: invader is not governmetnt but conquest; -where he is of course oblio'ed to resort to the corrupting of clans, or of single individuals, pinted out to his notice by public abhorrence, and recomrl:n.nd:i to his confidence on:ly by a treachery so rank and consuml..a.late as precludes all possibilitr of their return to private virtue or to public reliance, and therefore only put into authority over a wretched country, condemned to the torture of all that petullant unfeeling asperity with which a narrow and malignant mind will bristle in unmerited elevation; condemned to be betrayed, and disgraced, and exhausted by the little traitors that have been suffered to nestle and grow within it; who make it at onmfel the source of their grandeur and the victim of their vices; redu-iling it to the melancholy necessity of supporting their consequence and of sinking under their crimes, like the lion perishing by thle poison of a reptile that finds shelter in'the mane of the noble animal, while it is stinging him to death."f Ireland was in those times, in as strange and disastrous a situa* Such was the declaration from the bench of the Irish chancellor in 17.59.-C. t Mr. Curran's speech in Howison's case. —O. THE IRISH PAMRLIAMENT. 93 tion as can well be imagined; her own legislatulre. hating and trampling upon her people, and the English governlii,, it suspecting and despising both. There may have been sufflicient intricacy in the minor details of the policy of the time, but the leading maxims appear in all the clearness of despotic simplicity. They were to awe the real or imputed disaflection of the natives by means of a harsh dolmestic ad;lministration, and to check any more general exercise of power assumeldt by that administration as an intrusion upon the legislative suprellmacy of England. As filu as respected internal concerns, the 7;is, LColds and Commons were a triumphant faction, despoiling; and iiwl:ulting the remains of a fallen enemy: in their relatio-t withl England, they were miserable instruments, without confidence or dignity; armed by their employers with the fullest authority to molest or to crush, but instantly and contemptuously reminded of tlcir owu degradation, if ever they evinced any presumptuous desire to redress. Against so unnatural a system, it is no wonder that the discountenanced claims of freedom shcl;ld have no avail. If a transient scream was heard among the people, it excited ilmmlediate alarm at home, as ominous of an approaching- storm;* if her voice issued, as it sometimes did, fromi the ~irsh Comlnolls, it was considered a daring invasion of the rights of a higher power.t If the spirit of that House became too unruly for provincial purposes, the patriotic murmur was quickly hushed lby lengthening the pension list; a given number of oppressors was required, and while a venal heart was to be had in the marklet, no matter how high the price, the price was paid, and the nation called on (in addition to its other burdens) to defray the expenses of its own Nwrongs. * upon the trial of the printer of Swift's celebrated "Letters of a Drapier," the lord chief-jlstice, Whitshe.d, declared th;lt the sLthbr's intention was to bring in the Pretender.-Plowdeqn's.is-tory of Irelandl, vol. ii., p. 81. Dr. Lucas, who ventured, in his writings, to vindicate the rights of the Jrish Cournom:s, was declared by that House an enemy to his country, and obliged to seek for safety in exile, 1747.-C. 1 Tide oues:'on of the aVlpropri.tion of the surplus, in 1753. 94: LIEFE OF CURRAN. Thlus it e:o,:tinued for mnany years: with all the,i,:'es of despotism..:;i.; tt its repose; commerce extinguished, the public spirit br.*kIl,,,.1;ic honour and private confidence banished, and bigotry and:factiot alone triutmphant. Sentimenits of;sisdoin and pity at length occurred to the English Cabinet: it began to doubt if the Irish people were so incurably flurious as their tormentors had represented; it resolved to inquire, and if lnecessary, to redress. A very little investigation pIroved that never was some merciful interposition more o!l)oprtune; it was like a ~]sit t,_ some secret cell to rescue the victims of imputed frenzy I on their inhuman imminurers, who had ch;diled their pelrsns alid trald!uced their intellects, that they might pjrey Ipon t.hir inhlrita:lce. Th: subject of the first healliig, measure was the Parliament. There was no r lr.>:e't;tiotl tf the people in Ireland; there was a Hoiuse of C(onmnons, which, having no limits to its duration, hald tec,.lme a banditti of perpetual (lictators.* The octennial bill was passedl, an(l the ]::,rdened veterans disbanded.t This was not ftr the pu1rpose of!' a.iak;r) even a nominal appeal to the sense of the nati.-n; it was t,,,ir-e the Crown an opportunity of dispersing tihat lrl',vinciAl;:.i archy whose maxims had been so ruinous to their co.,untry, and,f substituting in their place a class of nore plianllt (dependants, who might readily accord with the purposed le:;ity- of the new system. As a right, or a security for a right, which noth;ing can give a people if they give it not themselves, this act effcteted:liie. As a diminution of calamity, as a transfer firom tLe bar.art,oaus dominion of their domestic tyrants to the inore co(liidel.rate and enlightened control of the English ministry, it had its value. It was received by the nation, who have been ever!,: precipitate inl hleir gratitude as in their resentmelts, withl trlllsports of ei;-!. u:si;.. ic and unaccustomed joy; a And four-fifths of the people were excludcd from the elective franchise by the lst Geo 1 c. 9.-C. + I 7, under the administratLon of Lord Town shend. —C. EVE OF INDEPENDENCE. 90 signal proof, if such were wanting, of their loyalty and their debasement. The Irish House of Commons, however, began now to wear in some degree the appearance of a censtitutional assembly; notwithstanding the political ignominy into which the nation had fallen, there still existed in that house a small band of able and upright men, who entertained more manly and charitable notions of a people's claims than their ungenerous opponents; and who, though they might not possess the power of redlessing the immediate wrongs, were still ever at hand to refute the baneful doctrines that would have sanctioned their continuance. In the British senate too (it should be vgratefully remembered) Irelaud had her advc,,ates; whose expanded minds, superior to the paltry ambition of domination, would have made the noblest use of their own privileges, that of liberally imparting them. The consequence of these bet-^r opinions occasionally appeared; the Viceroy was defeated pon some constitutional questions;* the Commons were reprimanded and prorogued; measures full of honour to them, and of hope tc: t' Ai country. But these were only tIansh,;.r~7:m-itations of spirit; the effects rather of the negligenllce than tne -eakness of the viCeroy. The ranks of the opposition were soon thinned by the never-failing expedient, and whatever relief was meditated for the Irish, was to come in the form of a gift, and not a concession. Relief was certainly in the cont-empiation of the English minister (Lord North), to what extent it is now immaterial to in:1uire; he was anticipated by events thiat were above his control. Ireland was now upon the eve of " a great original transaction." The American colonies had revolted; the Irish linen trade with those provinces, which had been the principal of Ireland's few sources of commercial wealth, instantly vanished(; to this was * Among other instances of the increasing spirit of the House of Commons, was their repeated reject Ls: of the money bills, because they (did -ot take their rise in that houde. 1169-C. LIE OF CUIRtTN. added a general embargo upon the exportation of prov i.:ins, lest they might circuitously reach the insurgents. Universal dist.res. ensued. The Comnmonla, for the first time, assumed the attittide of representatives of the nation: they addressed the viceroy upon the public emerge. cies with dignity and firmness, and were dissolved in 1777. Strenuous measures were taken by the government to secure a majority in the Parliament that followed; but.he crisis soon arrived when the destinies of the country were transferred to other hands. The internal wretchedness of Ireland had been great; it was low aggravated by the danger of war: the regular forces in the kingdoln exceeded not 5,000 men, the remainder having been called off to recruit the atmy in America. The enemy's fleets, superior to that of Great Britain, were careering in triumph throu.gh the channel, and (daily expected upon Ireland's unprotected coasts. In this emer gency, -thl town of Belfast, having applied to Government for a military reinltorcement, and its requisition having been answered by an offer of supply that cannot be related with gravity,* had the honour of first raising that warning voice, which, hushing every baser lniurmur, awoke the nation to confidence and strength, She called upon the citizens to arm in their defence. A corps of Volunteers was immediately established. The noble example was ardently followed by the country a', large, and Ireland soon beheld starting up with a scenic rapidity, a self-collected, self-disiplined body of forty thousandcl Volunteers. "You cannot ut ut relnember, said Mr. Curran, describing the scene, of which he had been a witness, "that at a time when we had scarcely a regular soldier for our defence, when the old and young were alarmed alnd terrified with apprehensions of descent upon our coasts, that Providence seemed to have worked t sort of miracle in our favour. You saw a band of armed men come forth at the great call of nature, of holnour, * The answer of the government was, that all the assistance it could afford was half a troop: dismounted horse, and half a company of invalids.-C. THE IRISH VOLUNTEERS. 97 and their country. You saw men of the greatest wealth and rank; you saw every class of the community give up its members, and send theln armed into the field, to protect the public and private tranquillity of Ireland. It is impossible for any man to turn back to that period, without reviving those sentiments of tenderness and gratitude which then beat in the public bosom; to recollect amidst what applause, what tears, what prayers, what benedictions, they walked forth amongst spectators agitated by the mingled sensations of terror and reliance, of danger and of protection, imploring the blessings of heaven upon their heads, and its conquest upon their swords. That illustrious, and adored and abused body of men stood forward and assumed the title which I trust the ingratitude of their country will never blot from its history,' The Volunteers of Ireland.' " The original object of these associations had been to defend the country from foreign invasion. The administration, for — getting the loyalty of the proceeding in their affright at so unexpected an exhibition of strength and enterprise, beheld an enemy already in possession of the land, but affecting to countenance what' they could not control, they supplied the Volunteers with several thousand stands of arms, and looked to the return of more tranquil and servile times, to disarm and defame them. The Volunteers soon swelled into an army of 80,000 men. In theiI ranks appeared the most admired characters in the kingdom, animating them with the enthusiasm, and tempering the general ardour by all the courtesy, and the high moral discipline, that the presence of so many noblemen, and senators, and gentlemen, could inspire. They had armed to protect the crown —no invader appeared; another and more precious object of protection now remained. Ireland was at their disposal, and they unanimously determined that, to consummate their work, they should continue under arms until they saw t Speech in Hamilton Rowan's case.-C..5 98 LIFEI OF CURRAN. her free. They resolved "to show, that if man descends, it is not in his own proper motion; that it is with labour antl with pain, and that he can continue to sink only until, by the force and pressure of the descent, the spring of his immortal faculties acquires that recuperative energy and effort, that hurries him as many miles aloft."* The demands of the Volunteers were altogether -unlike a morre sudden ebullition of popular discontent. They were the result of deep convictions, the splendid signs of the improved opinions of the age. The example of America was before them, and the cry for redress in Ireland was but the echo of that "voice which shouted for liberty"t there. The mode of their constitution, too, was peculiarly fortunate and authoritative. They were not a regular military force, mutinously dictating measures to the state; they were not a band of insurgents, illegal in their origin and objects. The circumstances of the times had invested the Volunteers with a constitutional character. The Government had recognized them, and aided their formation; the IIouse of Commons voted them a formal declaration of thanks for their public services; the people looked up to them with admiration andl respect, as a brave, united,.and zealous body, combininlg the intelligence and. moderation of loyal citizens with the influence and resources of a powerful army. The effects of the firmness and wisdom of their proceedings were soon apparent. The demand of the nation for a free trade, and the memorable declaration in parliam.:ent, "that no power on earth, save -the King, Lords, and CUommrLons of Ireland, had a right to make laws for Ireland,'"1 were no longer disregarded. The case of America had just shown how a struggle for principle might terminate. "British supremacy had fallen there like a spent tlhunderbolt.'"~ The bigotry, and servility, Mr. Curran's speech in Finnerty's case.-C. t An expression of Mr. Flood's. —O. $ The words of Mr. Grattan's motion, April 19, 1780.-C. ~ Mr. Grattan's speech, Nov. 13,1,781.-C. IRELAND' S FREEDOM. 99 and disunion, which had so long supported it in Ireland, had for the moment disappeared. Ireland declared, and England felt, that no other policy remained, "but to do justice to a people who were- otherwise determined to do justice to themselves."' The British ministry, whose infatuated counsels had lost America, and whose tardiness and insincerity with respect to Ireland had been encouraging the spirit of resistance there, were removed, and successors appointed with instructions to make such honourable concessions as were due to the services, the strength, and the just pretensions of the Irish people. The principal restrictions upon the trade of Ireland had been previously taken off. Under the Marquis of Rockingham's administration, the great leading grievance, that included in its principle so many more, was redressed. England resigned her legislative pretensions, and recognized Ireland to be a free nation.t This signal event, so justly denominated by Mr. Burke the Irish revolution, was the work of the Irish Volunteers. Their efforts were powerfully aided by the momentary spirit which they infused into the Irish House of Commons. In many of its members, the enthusiasm vanished with the occasion; but there remained a few, whose better natures, superior to the control of accident, continued to struggle for the public good with a constancy, ability, and zeal, which sprang firom within themselves. Their merits have been long since recorded: the preeminent merits of their illustrious leader, now associated with the proudest recollections of his country, require new attestation. For Mr. Grattan's most splendid panegyric, for the only one truly worthy of him, we are to look in what he has himself pronounced. His public exertions, the monuments of his genius and his worth, are preserved; his historian will have but to col* Mr. Grattan's speech, April 19, 1780.-C. t 17S2.-Several important constitutional acts were passed in Ireland during this short administration. A habeas corpus act, the repeal of the perpetual mutiny bill', the act for the independence of the judges, an act in favour of the Dissenting Protestants. A slight relaxation of the penal code had taken place in 1778.-C. 100 LIFE OF CURRBA. lect and refer to them, justly confiding, that as long as eloquence, patriotlsml, intrepidity, and uncompromising honour are valued in public men, the example of Mr. Grattan will remain'the subject of lasting gratitude and praise.* The triumph which Ireland gained in the declaration of independence was the triumphof a principle, which, however glorious it might have been to those who achieved it, failed to confer upon the nation the benefit and repose that the political philanthropist fondly anticipated. The spirit of the Parliament was exhausted in the single effort-they had emancipated themselves from the control of another legislature; but no sooner was the victory obtained, than it became: evident that very few of its fruits were to be shared among the people. Great domestic abuses still prevailed; the corrupt state of the legislature;t its consequence, an enormous and increasing Pension List; and, * Mr. Grattan, like other men of original genius and character, has been many times in the course of his memorable career misrepresented and reviled. The following spirited defence of him against such attacks was made in the Irish House of Commons, by his friend, Mr. Peter Burroughs, a gentleman long distinguished for his eloquence in the senate and at the bar, and for the unsuspected purity of his public and private life:I cannot repress my indignation, at the audacious boldness of the calumny, which would asperse one of the most exalted characters which any nation ever produced; and that in a country which owes its liberty and its greatness to the energy of his exertions, and in the very house which has so often been the theatre of his' glorious labours and splendid achievements. I remember that man the theme of universal panegyric-the wonder and the boast of Ireland, for his genius and his virtue. His name silenced the sceptic, upon the reality of genuine patriotism. To doubt the purity of his motives was a heresy which no tongue dared: to utter. Envy was lost in admiration; and even those whose crimes he scourged, blended extorted conpraises with the murmurs of resentment. He covered our (then) unfledged constitution with the ample wings of his talents, as an eagle covers her young; like her he soared, and like her could behold the rays, whether of royal favour or royal anger, with undazzled, unintimidated eye. If, according to Demosthenes, to grow with the growth, and decay with the decline of our country, be the true criterion of a good citizen, how infinitely did this man, even in the moment of his-lowest depression, surpass those upstart patriots who only become visible when their country vanishes!" —C. 1 According to a table of the state of the representation of Ireland, published in 1788, out of the 300 members of the House of Commons (viz, for 82 counties, 64 knights; for seven cities, 14 citizens; for one university, two representatives; for 110 boroughs, 220 burgesses), the people returned 81, including the 64 for counties, and the patrons the remaining 219.-C. THE OPPOSITION. 101 above all, the exclusion of the Roman Catholics from -he most valuable pri,iittges of the constitution. There were many others of subordinate importance. From Mr. Curran's entrance into Parliament, he joined those whose opinion it was that these abuses should be corrected. The result of the exertions of himself and the party with which for the fourteen years that he was a senator, he acted, is shortly told. They almost uniformly failed in every measure that they brought forward or opposed. It would far exceed the limits and the objects of this work to discuss at any length the merits of these several measures, some of which continue to this day the subject of anxious controversy upon another and a greater theatre. Yet it may be observed, that the acts of the Irish legislature during the period in question afford matter, if not of a very attractive kind, at least of very solemn' and important instruction. Whoever takes the pains to examine them will find how transitory, and almost valueless to a nation the glory of asserting nomli-.nal rights, if there be not diffused throughout its various classes that fund of conservative virtue and spirit, which alone can give dignity and stability to its independence, by operating as a perpetual renewal of its claims. He will find one practical and terrible example (illustrated by continued discontents and disturbances, and finally by a rebellion) of the folly of expecting that human beings, in whom the political passions have been once awakened, can be attached, or even reconciled, to the most admired form of government, by any other means, than by a real and conscientious communication of those privileges, for which thev would deem it dishonorable not to thirst. For the last eighteen years of her separate existence, Ireland was in the theoretic enjoyment of the same constitution which has long made Great Britain the wonder of other nations; but in Ireland. however boasted the acquisition, it soon appeared to be but a lifeless copy, minutely exact in external form, but wanting all the vigour, and warmth, and imparting spirit of the glorious original. The 102 LIFE OF CURRAN. Irish legislature, seduced by their fatal ardour for monopoly, would not see that their own emancipation ad sent abroad a general taste for freedom, which it was most perilous to disappoint. Unwisely and ungenerously separating their interests and pride from those of their country, they preferred taking a weak and hostile position upon the narrow ground of exclusive privilege, instead of taking theipwstand, where there was ample space for the parliament and people, and for all, upon the base of the British constitution.* They affected to think that the time had not arrived when the Catholic could be trusted; as if the enjoyment of rights and confidence for a single year would not prove a more instructive school of fidelity than centuries of suspicion and exclusion. But in reality it does not appear from the transactions of those times, that the minds of the excluded Catholics were less matured for all the responsibilities of independence than those of the Irish aristocracy, upon whom alone the recent revolution had confered it. The 80,000 Volunteers, who had been the instruments of that independence, were not a Protestant association. The depreciated Catholic was in their ranks, adding the authority of his strength, his zeal, and his moderation, to the cause of the Irish Parliament, and not unreasonably confiding, that in the hour of victory his services would be remembered. These services and claims were, however, forgotten; and here it is that the Irish legislature will be found utterly unworthy of that controlling power which they had lately acquired over the destinies of their country-in abandoning, as they did, a proud, irritated, and robust population, to all the contingent suggestions and resources of their indigna* "I have read," said Mr. Curran, speaking of these unpopular maxims of the Irish Parliament, "I have read the history of other nations. I have read the history of yours. I have seen how happily you emerged from insignificance and obtained a con. stitution. But when you washed this constitution with the waters which were to render it invulnerable, you forgot that the part by which you held it was untouched by the immersion; it was benumbed and.not rendered invulnerable, and should therefore a'tract your nicest carle,"-Irish Par. Deb. 17S7. THE LEGISLTURPE AND THE EXECUTIVE. 103 tion-in not having " interposed the Constitution," to save the State. But the point of view, in whLich a regular history of the latter conduct and character of the Irish House of Commons would supply matter of no ordinary interest to a lover of the British Constitution, is in the example which it would afford, of an assembly,'founded upon the model of that constitution, exhibiting itself in its stage of final deterioration. In Ireland the prediction of Montesquieu* has been verified-not in all its dismal extent, for Irish independence has found an euthanasia peculiar and accidental; but still the spectacle of legislative immorality, and its instructive warnings, are the same. The corrupted Commons of Ireland surrendered all that was demanded-all that a few years before they had gloried in having acquired; and if a valuable portion of their country's rights and hopes was not included in the sale, the praise of having respected them is due to the wisdom and mercy of the purchasers, and not to any honourable reluctance on the side of the mercenary sellers. In whatever light the Act of Union be viewed, in its ultimate consequences to the empire, the assembly which perpetrated it must be considered as having reached the farthest limits of degeneracy; because the terms on which they insisted have stamped upon them a character of political dishonour that disdained every control of compunction or of prid& For if the surrender to which they consented was regarded by them as a sacrifice of Ireland's rights, how enormous and unmitigated the delinquency! —or if, on the other hand, they imagined it to be essential to the welfare of the emnpire, how vile and fallen'that spirit which could degrade a necessury act of state into a sordid contract! The Parliament that couid do this had no longer any morals to lose-and therefore it is, that the constitutional Englishman, who is labouring to procrastinate the fulfilment of the prophecy that impendw over his own hitherto more fortunate country, * " That the British Constitution would not survive the event of the legislative powor bcucJxlinug tore C' rralpt than the exccative." —Spirit of Leans. i104 LIFE -OF CURRAN. is referred for abundant illustrations of the apprehcnded crisis tc the decline and fall of the Irish Legislature. In conLempiating:hat scene, he will have an opportunity of observing the great leading symptoms, and (which may equally deserve his attention),Of discerning the minute, but no less unerring signs which portend that the spirit which gives it life is about to depart from the representative body; and should it ever be his calamity to witness, what he will find Ireland was condemned to see, the members of that body betraying, by their conduct and language, that they held their station as a portion of their private property, rather than as a temporary, public trust-should he observe a general and insatiate appetite for power, for the sake of its emoluments and not its honours-should he see, as Ireland did, grave and authenticated charges of public delinquency answered by personal menaces, or by most indecent ridicule-skilful duellists and jesters held in peculiar honour —public virtue systematically discountenanced, by imputing its profession to a factious disappointed spirit-should he see, within the walls of the Commons' assembly, a standing brigade of mercenaries, recognising no duty beyond fidelity to their employers, the Swiss defenders of any minister or any principleshould he, lastly, observe a marked predilection for penal restraints, an unseemly propensity to tamper with the Constitution, by experimental suspensions of its established usages —should Englishmen ever find all, or many of these to be the characteristics of the depositories of their rights, let them remember the prediction of the philosopher, and the fate of Ireland, and be assured that their boasted securities are becoming but a name. But to record at length the progress of that fate, to dwell in any detail upon the various characters, and the various inducements (whether of hope, terror, avarice, ambition, or public duty) of the men who accelerated, and of those who would have averted the catastrophe, might well be the subject of a separate and a very considerable work. It will be sufficient for the purposes of Mr. Curran's history to have made these cursory allusions to the HIS PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. 105 spirit of the times in which he acted, leaving more ample developments of it to himself, in the specimens of his eloquence that will be found in the following pages. Mr. Curran's Parliamentary speech;es have'been always, and justly, considered as inferior to his'displays at the Bar. To this deficiency mlany circumstances contributed. Depending solely upon his profession for support, he was not only seldom able to give an undivided attention to the questions that were brought before the senate, but he perpetually came to the discussion of them, exhausted by the professional labours of the day. The greater nunlber of the important questions that emanated from the Opposition were naturally introduced by the older leaders of that party; while he, whose talents were most powerful in reply, -was reserved to combat the arguments -of the other side. The debl;tes, upon these occasions, were in general protracted to a very l.ate 1hour, so that it often happened, when Mr. Curran rose to spcdk, that the note-takers were sleeping over their task, or had actually quitted the gallery. But, most of all, the same carelessness of fame, which has left his speeches at the Bar in their pre-.sent uncorrected state, has irretrievably injured his Parliamentary reputation. While other members sat up whole nights retouching their speeches for publication, he almost invariably abandoned his to their fate, satisfied with having made the exertion that his sense of duty dictated; and deeming it of little moment that what had failed of success withih the house should circulate and be applauded without.* Notwithstanding these disadvantages, however, his career in Parliament supplies much that is in the highest degree honourable to his talents, spirit, and public integrity; of which the leading examples shall be adverted to as they occur in the order of time. e Another circumstance contributed greatly to the inaccuracy of the reported speeches of such opposition members as would not take the pains of correcting them. The most skllful note-takers, of whom the number was very small, were in the service of the Government, and considered it a part of their duty to suppress whatever it might not be agreeable to the Administration to see published.-C, 5* 106 LFME OF CURRN. CHAPTER VI. Mr. Flood's plan of Parliamentary Reform-Mr. Curran's contest and duel with Mr. Fitsgibbon (afterwards Lord Clare)-Speehls on Pensions-His professional success —Mode of life-Occasional veirss —Visits France —Letters from Dieppe and Rouen-Anecdote -Letters'from Paris-Anecdote-Letter from Mr. Boyse-Anecdote of Mr. Boyse-Letters from Holland. THE first occasion upon which Mr. Curran's name appears in the Parliamentary register, is in the tempestuous debate of November 29, 1783, upon Mr. Flood's proposition for a Reform in Parliament.* The Convention of Volunteers, by whom Mr. Flood's plan had been approved, was still sitting in Dublin. About four o'clock in the afternoon of the 29th of November, that gentleman rose in the Convention, and proposed that he, accompanied by such members of Parliament as were then present, should immediately go down to the House of Commons, and move for leave to bring in a bill exactly corresponding with the plan of reform approved of by them, and that the Convention should not adjourn till the fate of his motion was ascertained. Lord Charlemont's biographer, who, apparently with much reason, condemns the violence of this proceeding, describes the scene in the House of Commons as terrific: several of the minority, and all the delegates from the Convention, appeared in their military uniforms. As to the debate, "it was uproar, it was clamour, violent menace, and furious recrimination."t In the little that Mr. Curran said, he supported Mr. Flood's motion.t * This is an error. Curran's name first appears in the Parliamentary Debates on November 12, 1T83, when he briefly objected to the issue of a new writ for Enniscarthy. Again, on November 18, he casually recommended immediate attention to the claims of some distressed manufacturers. Mr. Curran, as member for the borough of Kilbeggan, was then colleague of Henry Flood.-M. t JHtrdy's Litfe of Lord Ch'arlemont, page 270, where the particulars of this interesting scene are very strikingly detailed.-C. $ Barry Y ALverton, then Attorney-General, had made a damaging speech against PERSONAL VLNDICATION. 107 LJi the following month he spoke more at length in prefacing a tmoulon on the right of the House of Commons to originate money bills; but as neither this, nor any of his parliamentary speeches during the session of 1783 and 1784, contain much that is remarkable, it would be unnecessarily swelling these pages to dwell upon them in detail. [Some notice of Curran's early parliamentary career may not be quite uninteresting. On December 16, 1783, on moving "that it is the sole and undoubted privilege of the Commons of Ireland to originate all bills of supply and grants of public money, in such -manner, and with such clauses as they shall think proper," Curran spoke at some length, declaring that he was no party man, and entering into a history of -he right of the Commons to originate and frame money-bills. lie said, "I lament that a learned and honourable member, with whom I once had the pleasure of living on terms of friendship, is now absent; because I think I might rely upon his supporting the resolution I intend to propose; that support would, perhaps, renew the intercourse of our friendship, which has been lately interrupted. And I must beg the indulgence of the House to say, that that friendship was upon the footing of perfect equality, not imrposed by obligation on the one side, or bound by gratitude by the other; for I thank God, when that friendship commenced, I was above receiving obligations from any man, and therefore, our fiiendship, as it was more pure and disinterested, as it depended on a sympathy of minds, and congeniality of sentiments, I trusted would have endured the longer. I think myself bound to make this public declaration, as it has gone forth from this House, that I am a man of ingratitude, and to declare, that for any difference Flood's proposition; Langrishe, George Ponsonby, Fitzgibbon, Burke, and Hutchinson also opposed it. Then weakly but pertly, Hardy (afterwards Lord Charlemont's biographer) spoke in opposition, and Curran's speech, in which he cautioned the House not to make a public declaration against the Volunteers, was in reply to Hardy. Leave to bring ira the bill was refused by a large majority; a counter resolution -against interference by the Volunteers was then carried: and, soon after, the Convention dissolved.-M. 108 LIFE OF CURRAN. of opinion with my learned and right honorable friend, I cannot be taxed with ingratitude; for that I never received any obligCtion from him, but lived on a footing of perfect equality, save only so far as his great talents and erudition outwent mine." Leonard: MacNally's copy of Curran's speeches, a present from Curran himself, contains a note in which it is stated that the person thus referred to was Barry Yelverton-but their coolness was of a much later. date. Besides, their friendship commenced in youth, when neither was in independent circumstances. On February 14th, 1785, Curran supported an unsuccessful motion of Flood's, that the immediate and effectual retrenchment of the national expenses was necessary. On the same day, Curran delivered a panegyric on the Volunteers, and personally attacked Mr. Luke Gardiner, whom he called " the little advocate," for voting ministerially, in the hope of being rewarded by being raised to a higher rank. (In fact, he was created Lord Mountjoy at the Union.) This led to a wordy wrangle with Gardiner, whose defence was undertaken by Fitzgibbon, afterwards Earl of Clare, who, assailing Curran as champion of the Volunteers, said, "As I feel myself in a very different situation from that honourable member, I shall ever -entrust the defence of the country to gentlemen, with the King's commission in their pockets, rather than to his friends, the beggars in the streets."] In the year 1785 took place his quarrel with the late Lord Clare, then Mr. Fitzgibbon, the Attorney-General* an event which deeply affected his future fortunes. During Mr. Curran's first years at the bar they had been on terms of polite and even familiar intercourse;t but the dissimilarity of their public characters, the high aristocratic arrogance of the one, and the * John Fitzgibbon was made Solicitor-General on November 9th, 1782, and on December 20th, 1788, succeeded Yelverton as Attorney-General. This latter office he retained until be was made Lord Chancellor, on August 12th, 1789, his place as leading law officer to the Crown, being then taken by Arthur Wolfe, afterwards Lord Kilwarden. —M. t The first bag that Mr. Curran ever carried was presented to him by Mr. Fitsgibbon, fr good lteck's sake.-C. LORD CHANCELLOR CLARE. 109 popuilar ten;i'ts of the other, soon separated them; even their private tastes and habits would have forbidden a lasting friendship. Lorc Clare despised literature, in which Mr. Curran so delighted. The one in private as in public, disdained all the arts of winning; he was sullen or overbearing, and when he condescended to be jocular was generally offensive. The other was in all companies the reverse; playful, communicative, and conciliating. Mr. Curran never, like his more haughty rival, regulated his urbanity by the rank of his companions; or ~if he did, it was by a diametrically opposite rule; the more humble the person, the more cautiously did he abstain from inflicting pain. For all those lighter talents of wit and fancy which Mr. Curran was incessantly and almost involuntarily displaying, Lord Clare had a real or an affected contempt, and would fain persuade himself that they were incompatible with those higher powers which he considered could alone raise the possessor to an equality with himself. Mr. Curran was perhaps equally hasty in underrating the abilities of his antagonist. Detesting his arbitrary principles, and disgusted with his unpopular manners, he would see nothing in him but the petty despot, ascending to a bad eminence by obvious and unworthy methods, and therefore meriting his unqualified hatred and invective. With such elements of personal dislike and political hostility, it is not surprising that when they met they should clash, and that the conflict should be violent and lasting. The very destinies of the two men seemed to have placed them where their contrasted qualities and peculiar force might be most strikingly displayed. Loid Clare was fitted by nature to attain power and to abuse it. Many men of inferior capacity might have attained as much; but without his resources and perseverance, few could have continued so long to abuse it with impunity. Mr. Curran was either ignorant of, or despised the arts which led to station; his talent lay not in defending doubtful measures or selecting political expedients, but iv exposing violated trust; in braving and denouncing public 110 LIFE OF CURRAN. delinquel ts, is: pathetic or indignant appeals to those natural elementary principles of human rights, against which political expedients are too frequently directed. He could never, like Lord Clare, have managed a venal, restless aristocracy, so as to comiiand their concurrence in a long system of unpopular encroachments; nor like him have continued for years to face the public reprobation of such conduct: as little could the latter, had he sided with the people, have brought to their cause such varied stories of wit and ridicule, and persuasive eloquence, as the harangues of his more gifted rival display. In a debate on the Abuse of Attachments by the King's Bench, in the Irish House of Commons (February 24, 1785), as Mr. Curran rose to speak against them, perceiving that Mr. Fitzgibbon had fallen asleep on his seat, he thus commenced: "I hope I may say a few words on this great subject without disturbing the sleep of any right honourable member, and yet, perhaps, I ought rather to envy than blame the tranquillity of the right honourable gentleman. I do not feel myself so happily tempered as to be lulled to repose by the storms that shake the land. If they invite rest to any, that rest ought not to be lavished on the guilty spirit."Y Provoked by these expressions, and by the general tenor of the observations that followed, Mr. Fitzgibbon replied to Mr. Curran with much personality, and among other things denominated him a pony babbler. The latter retorted by the following description of his opponent: "I am not a man whose respect in person and character depends upon the importance of his office; I am not a young man who thrusts himself into the foreground of a picture, which ought to be occupied by a better figure; I am not one who replies with invective when sinking under the weight of argument; * Although Mr. Curran appears here to have commenced hostilities, it should be mentioned, that he was apprised of Mr. Fitzgibbon's having given out in the ministerial circles that he should take an opportunity, during this debate, in which he knew that Mr. Curran would take a part, of putting dcwn the younsT patriot. The Duchess of Rutland and all the ladies of the Castle were present in the gallery to witness what Mr. Curran called, in the course of the debate, " this exhibition by command."-C. PARLIAMENTARY WORK. ill I am not a man who denies the necessity of a parliamentary reform at the time that he proves its expediency by reviling his own constituents, the parish-clerk, the sexton, and grave-digger; and if there be any man who can apply what I am not to himself, I leave him to think of it in the committee, and to contemplate upon it when he goes home." The result of this night's debate was a duel between Mr. Curran and Mr. Fitzgibbon; after exchanging shots they separated, only confirmed in their feelings of mutual aversion, of which some of the consequences will appear hereafter.* [The first of Curl m's speeches displaying remarkable ability (Davis says) is a short one made on Orde's Commercial Propositions. Orde,t who was Chief Secretary of Ireland, had proposed several resolutions by which Reciprocity would be nominally granted to Ireland in trade, commerce, and manufactures, as regarded England. In reality, their design was to draw large sunms from Ireland for " general defence" (of England), in return for w\hich the poorer country would be allowed to compete with the wealthier and stronger. Curran spoke briefly on the subject on June 30, 1785, and, at much greater length, on July 23. He spoke again on the 11th and 12th of August-his last speech not having commenced until six in the morning, when he declared, exhausted as he was, that his zeal had renewed his strength, and hoped that his then state of mind and body might not be ominous of the condition to which Ireland would be reduced, if the bill should become a law. He prophetically said that if England were allowed the right of taxing Ireland as she pleased, " we must either * When the parties were placed on the ground they were left to fire when they pleased. Curran had the first shot, without effect. Fitzgibbon then took aim for nearly half a minute, and on his fire being ineffectual, Curran exclaimed, " It was inot your fault, Mr. Attorney; you uwere deliberatte enouqfi." —M. t NlMr. Thomas Orde had married the natural daughter of the fifth Duke of Bolton, on whom her father had entailed the principal part of his large estates, of failure of male heirs to his brother Henry, sixth Diuke. In 1794, the Dukedom became extinct, by the death of the sixth Duke, and, in 1797, Mr. Orde was created Baron Bolton, of Bolton Castle, County of York He died in 1807.-M. 112 LIFE OF CURRAN. sink into utter slavery, or the people must wade to a re-assumption of their rights through blood, or be obliged to take refuge in a Union, which would be the annihilation of Ireland, and what, I suspect, the lginistry is driving at." Three days after this, Orde withdrew his bill-but, from that hour, Pitt determined to carry the Union. On March 11, 1786, Curran spoke on the Portugal Trade, and glanced at Toler's (afterwards Lord Norbury) unfortunate " knack of turning matters of the Qmost serious nature into ridicule." Toler was then at once the buffo and bravo of Ministers.] One of the public grievances, which the Irish Opposition frequently, but vainly, attempted to redress, was the enormity of the Pension List. On the 13th of May, in this year (1786), Mr. Forbes brought forward a motion upon the subject, which, as usual, failed.* A part of Mr. Curran's speech upon that occasion may be given as a specimen of the lighter mode of attack to which he sometimes resorted where he saw that gravity would have been unavailing; and it may be observed that this, like many imore of the same kind, are historical documents, which are, perhaps, tho most descriptive of the times. The very absence of serious remonstrance shows that serious remonstrance had been exhausted, and that nothing remained but that ridicule should take its vengeance upon those whom argument could not reform.f "I am surprised that gentlemen have taken up such a foolish opinion as that our constitution is maintained by its different component parts, mutually checking and controlling each other. They seem to think, with HIobbes, that a state of nature is a state of warfare, and that, like Mahomet's coffin, the constit ttion is sus* The debate took place, not in Mnay, but in March. Mr. Forbes's motion was leave to bring in a bill to limit the amount of pensions. Sir Hercules Langrishe moved the adjournment of the question until August (equivalent to sine die), and it was adjourned, but again broulgrt on in the following year.-M. t Upon this occasion, Mr. Grattan caused the Pension List to be read aloud by the clerk, and concluded his speech by saying, " If I should vote that pensions are not a grieva,. Je, 1,should vote an impudent, an insolent, and a public lie."-C. TH1I PENSION LIST. 113 pended by the attraction of different powers. My friends seem to think that the Crown should be restrained from doing wrong by a physical necessity, forgetting that if you take away from a man all, power to do wrong, you at the same time take away from him all merit of doing right; and by making it impossible for men to run into slavery, you enslave them most effectually. But if, instead of the three different parts of our constitution drawing forcibly in right lines at opposite directions, they were to unite their power, and draw all one way, in one right line, how great would be the effect of their force-how happy the direction of their union!'The present system is not only contrary to mathematical rectitude, but to public harmony: but if, instead of Privilege setting up his back to oppose Prerogative, he was to saddle his back and invite Prerogative to ride, how comfortably might they both jog along; and, therefore, it delights me to hear the advocates for the royal bounty flowing freely and spontaneously, and abundantly as Holywell, in Wales.* If the Crown grants double the amount of the revenue in pensions, they approve of their royal master,, for he is the breath of their nostrils. "But we will find that this complaisance-this gentleness between the Crown and its true servants-is not confined at home; it extends its influence to foreign powers. Our merchants have been insulted in Portugal, our commerce interdicted. What did the British lion do? Did he whet his tusks? Did he bristle up and-shake his mane? Did he roar? No, no such thing; the gentle creature wagged his tail for six months at the court of Lisbon; and now we hear fiom the Delphic oracle on the treasury bench, that he is wagging his tail in London to Chevalier I'into, who, he hopes soon to be able to tell us, will allow his lady to entertain him as a lap-dog; and when she does, no doubt the British factory will furnish some of their softest woollens to make * Sir Boyle Roche, who was a Ministerialist and placeman, had opposed the motion, sayaiig: "I would not stop the fountain of royal favour, but let it flow freely, spontaneo11v- and abundantly, as Holywell, in Wales, that turns so many mills. Indeed, some of the best raen have drank of this fountain, which gives honour as well as vigour." —M. 114 LIFE OF CURRAN. a cushion for him to lie upon. But though the gentle beast has continued so long fawning and couching, I believe his vengeance will be great as it is slow, and that that posterity, whose ancestors are yet unborn, will be surprised at the vengeance he will take. "This polyglot of wealth-this museum of curiosities-the Pension List, embraces every link in the human chain, every description of men, women, and children, from the exalted excellence of a Hawke or a Rodney, to the debased situation of a lady who humbleth herself that she may be exalted. But the lessons it inculcates form its greatest perfection. It teacheth that sloth and vice may eat that bread which virtue and honesty may starve for, aftec they have earned it; it teaches the idle and dissolute to look up for that support which they are too proud to stoop and earn; it directs the minds of men to an entire reliance upon the ruling power of the State, who feeds the ravens of the royal aviary that cry continually for food; it teaches them to imitate those s,4ints on the Pension List that are like the lilies of the field-they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet are arraved like Solomon in his glory: in fine, it teaches a lesson, which, indeed, they might have learned from Epictetus, that it is sometimes good not to be over-virtuous; it shows that, in proportion a't our distresses increase, the munificence of the Crown increases also-in proportion as our clothes are rent, the royal mantle is extended over us. "Notwithstanding the Pension List, like charity, covers a multitude of sins, give me leave to consider it as coming home to the members of this house; give me leave to say, that the CrowPn, in extending its charity, its liberality, its profusion, is la-y7:ing a foundation for the independence of Parliament; for, hereafter, instead of orators or.patriots accounting for their cODn duct to such mean and unworthy persons fas freeholders, thety will learn to despise them, and look to the first man in the State;' lnd, they will by so doing have this security for their indepel);:ldc PARLIAMENTARY STUD. 115 that while'any inan in the kingdom has a shilling they will not av aoTl f, ne. "Suppose at any future period of time the boroughs of Ire.ahd should decline from their present flourishing and prosperous state; suppose they should fall into the hands of men who wisl to drive a profitable commerce by having members of parliament to hire or let; in such case a secretary would find a great difficulty, if the proprietors of members should enter into a cormbination to form a monopoly. To prevent which in time, the wisest way is to purchase up the raw material, young members of parliament just rough- from the grass; and when they are a little bitted, and he has got a pretty stud, perhaps of seventy, he may laugh at the slave merchant. Some of them he may teach to sound through the nose like a barrel organ: some in the course of a few months might be taught to cry, 1i-ear! hear! some, Chair! chair! upon occasion; though these latter might create a little confusion if they were to forget whether they were calling inside or outside of these doors. Again, he might have some so trained, that he need only pull a string, and up gets a repeating member; and if they were so' dull that they could neither speak nor make orations (for they are different things) he might have been taught to dance, pedibus ire in sententiam. This improvement might be extended; le might have them dressed in coats and shirts all of one colour, and of a Sunday he might march them to church, two and two, to the great edification of the people, and the honour of the Christian religion; afterwards, like the ancient Spartans. or the fraternity at Kilmainham, they might dine altogether in a large hall. Good heaven! what a sight to see them feeding in public, on public viands, ald talking of public subjects, for the benefit of the public! It is a pity they are not immortal; but I hope they will flourish as a corporation, and that pensioners will beget pensioners to the end of the chapter." Mr. Curran was now (1786) in full practice at the bar. It may be 1 16 LIFE OF CURRAN. acceptable to hear the manner he spoke himself of his increasing celebrity. The following is an extract from one of his private letters of this period. "Patterson, chief justice of the common pleas, has been given over many days, but still holds out. My good friend Carleton succeeds him. Had he got this promotion some time ago, it might have been of use to me; for I know he has a friendship for ine; but at present his partiality can add little to whatever advantage I can derive from his leaving about four thousand a year at the bar.' I understand they have been puffing me off to you from this (Dublin). I have been indeed very much employed this term, and I find I have the merit imputed to md of changing a determination which the Chancellor [Lord Lifford] had formed against Burroughs,* a few days ago. He has really been uncommonly kir. and polite to me. This, I believe, is the first time I ever became my own panegyrist, therefore excuse it: I should scarcely mentioil it for any vanity of mine, if it were not of some little value to others; tot it up, therefore, on the table of pence, not on the scale of vain glory." HTis life at this time was passed in a uniform succession of the same cc0upaltions, his professional and parliamentaryduties. The intervals of business he generally spent at Newmarket, where he had taken a few. acres of land, and built a house, to which he gave the name of the Priory, as the residence of the Prior of the Order of St. Patrick. In Dublin the reputation of his talents and his convivial powers introduced him to every circle to which he could desire to have access; in the country he entered into all the sports and manners of his less polished neighbours, with as much ardour as if it was with them alone that he had passed and was to pass his days. The ordinwary routine of his profession, took him twice every year to Mulln* Sir William Burroughs, Bart., afterwards one of the Judges of the supreme court of judicatulre at Calcutta. The cause to which Mr. Curran's letter alludes was that of Newberg and Burroughs by his exertions in whichi he had acquired a considerable aeces. sion to fame.-C. "AT HOMEE." 117 ster;* and among the many attractions of that Circuit, he always considered, as one of the greatest, the frequent opportunities it gave him of visiting and spending some happy hours with two of his oldest and dearest friends (once his college fellow-students), the Rcv. Thomas Crawford, of Lismore, and the Rev. Richard Cary, of Clonmel; both of them persons unknown to fame, but both so estimniable, as men, and scholars, and companions, that his taste and affections were perpetually recalling him to the charms of their society. It may not be a very dignified circumstance in his history, yet it must be mentioned that his arrival at Newmarket was always considered there as a most important event. Gibbon somewhere observes that one of the liveliest pleasures which the pride of man can enjoy, is to reappear in -a more splendid condition among those who had known him in his obscurity. If Mr. Curran had * Upon one Of these journeys, and about this period, as Mr. Curran was travelling upon an unfrequented road, he perceived a man in a soldier's dress, sitting by the roadside, and apparently much exhausted by fatigue and agitation. He invited him to take a seat in his chaise, and soon discovered that he was a deserter. Having stopped at a small inn for refreshment, Mr. Curran observed to the soldier, that he had committed an ofence of which the penalty was death, and that his chance of escaping it was but mall: e" Tell me then," continued he, " whether you feel disposed to pass the little rorm nant of life that is left you in penitence and fasting, or whether you would prefer to drown your sorrow in a merry glass?" The following is the deserter's answer, wh;ch Mr. Curran, in composing it, adapted to a plaintive Irish air: If sadly thinking, withl spirits sinking, Could more than drinking my cares compose, A cure'for sorrow from sighs I'd borrow, Atnd hope to-morrow would end my woes. But as in wailing there's naught availing, And Death unfailing will strike the blow, Then for that reason, and for a season, Let us be merry before we go! 0o joy a stranger, a wry-worn ranger, In every danger my course I've run; Now hope all ending, and Death befriending, His last aid lending, my cares are done: No more a rover, or hapless lover, My griefs are over, and my glass runs low; Then for that season, and for a season, Let us be merry before we go! 118 -LIFE OF CURRAN. been proud, he might have enjoyed this pleasure to the full. Upon the occasion, of every return to the scene of childhood, visits and congratulations upon his increasing fame poured in uponl "the cour sellor" from every side. "His visitors" (according to his own description) " were of each sex and of every rank, and their greetings were of as many kinds. Some were delivered in English, and some in Irish, and some in a language that was a sort of a compromise between the two-some were communicated verbally-some by letter or by deputy, the absentees being just at that moment'in trouble,' which generally meant, having been lately committed for some'unintentional' misdemeanour, from the consequences of which, who could extricate them so successfully as'the counsellor?' some came in prose-some in all the pomp of verse; for Mr. O'Connor, the roving bard (of whom Mr. Curran used to say, that if his imagination could have carried him as far as his legs did, he would have been the most astonishing poet of the age), was never absent; at whatever stage of their poetical circuit he and his itinerant muse might be, the moment certain intelligence reached them that the master of the Priory had arrived, they instantly took a short cut across the country, and laid their periodical offering at the feet of him whose high fortune they had of course been the first to predict." All these petty honours gratified his heart, if not his pride, and he never fastidiously rejected them. Those who came from the mere ambition of a personal interview, he sent away glorying in their reception, and delighted with his condescension and urbanity; to those who seemed inclined " to carry away anything rather than an appetite," he gave a dinner. The village disturber of the peace had once more a promise that his rescue should be effected at the ensuing assizes, while the needy laureat seldorm failed to receive the "crown," which lie had " long preferred to the freshest laurels."* * The poetry of the roving bard has by some accident perished; but his name is preserved in a short and unambitious specimen of his favourite art. His muse at one time became so importunate, that MIr. Curran found it necessary to discourage her addresses; THE BARDLING. 119 [During the Session of 1787, Mr. Curran constantly attende'1 to his parliamentary duties. At the commencement of the instead therefore of rewarding one of her effusions with the expected donatioh, sc bevt Uie bard the following impromptu: A collier once in days of yore, From famed Newcastle's mines, a store Of coals had rais'd and with the load He straightway took Whitehaven road; When thither come, he look'd around, And soon a ready chap he found; But after all his toil and pain, He measured out his coals in vain, For he got naught but coals again. Thus Curran takes O'Connor's lays, And with a verse the verse repays; Not verse indeed as good as thine, Nor rais'd from such a genuine mine; But were it better,'t were in vain'to emulate O'Connor's strain. Then take, my friend-and freely take, The verses for the poet's sake: W et one advice from me receive, -1I will many vain vexations save; Should, by strange chance, your muse grow poor, Bid her ne'er seek a poet's door. The disappointed bard retorted: and his concluding verse, If you're paid such coin for your law, You'II ne'er be worth a single straw, was felt to contain so important and undeniable a truth, that his solicitations coald be no longer resisted. These are trifles; but the subject of these pages gladly sought relief in them, when satiated with more splendid cares. Mr. Curran composed two other little poems, of a different description. about this time. The first of the following has been praised, as possessing peculiar oenicacy of thought, by the most admired poet that Ireland has ever produced. ON RETURNING A RING TO A LADS. Thou emblem of faith-thou sweet pledge of a pass:on, By heaven reserved for a happier than meOn the hand of my fair go resume thy loved station, Go back in the beam that is lavish'd on thee! And if, some past scene thy remembrance recalling, Her bosom shall rise to the tear that is falling, With the transport of love may no anguish combine? But be hers all the bliss-and the sufferings all vwfite. 12C9 LIFE OF CURJRAN. Session of 1786, and again in 1787, the Viceroy's speech alluded to the disturbances in the South of Ireland. On the latter occasion, a vehement debate arose on the address in reply to the vieregal missive, and Curran delivered a speech which Davis calls "one of his best in parliament." The government party Yet say (to thy mistress ere yet I restore thee), Oh say why thy charm so indifferent to me? To her thou art dear —then should I not adore thee? Can the heart that is hers be regardless of thee? But the eyes of a lover, a friend, or a brother, Can see naught in thee, but the flame of another; On me then thou'rt lost; as thou never couldst prove The emblem of faith or the token of love. But, ah! had the ringlet thou lov'st tV surroundHad it e'er kiss'd the rose on the cheek of my dear, What ransom to buy thee could ever be found, Or what force from my heart thy possession could tear A mourner, a suff'rer, a wanderer, a strangerIn sickness, in sadness, in pain, and in danger, Next my heart thou shouldst dwell till its last gasp were,Ber.Then together we'd sink-and I'd part thee no more. ON MRS. BILLINGTON'S BIRTH-DAY. The wreath of love and friendship twine, And deck it round with fiow'rets gayTip the lip with rosy wine,'T is fair Eliza's natal day I Old Time restrains his ruthless hand, And learns one favourite form to spare; Light o'er her tread, by his command, The Hours, nor print one footstep there. In amorous sport the purple Spring Salutes her lips, in roses drest; And Winter laughs, and loves to fling A flake of snow upon her breast. So may thy days, in happiest pace, Divine Eliza, glide along! Unclouded as thy angel face, And sweet as thy celestial song. PARLIAMENTARY LIFE. 121 declared that the disturbance almost exclusively consisted of resistance to the clergy (i. e., to tithes), and accused the landlords of grinding the people and abetting the disturbances, and demanded fresh powers. Fitzgibbon, then Attorney-General, speaking of his general knowledge of the Province of Munster, said, "I know it is impossible for human wretchedness to exceed that of the miserable peasantry in that province. I know that the unhappy tenants are ground to powder by relentless landlords." The Address was an echo of the viceregal speech, and Curran moved an amendment to it, to the effect that the ordinary.powers of the law were fully adequate, if duly exerted, to punish and restrain the excesses complained of' and also, that it was necessary to reduce the burthens of the people by every honorable mode of retrenchment. In proposing this, Curran entered fully into the causes of the general distress which had produced partial distuirbances. "Unbound to the sovereign by any proof his affection, unbound to government by any instance of its protection, unbound to the country, or to the soil, by being destitute of any property in it,'t is no wonder that the peasantry should be up for rebellion and revolt; so far from being matter of surprise, it must naturally have been expected." Another passage is very good: -b- I have read the history of other nations, and I have read the history of yours. I have seen how happily you emerged from insignificance, and obtained your Constitution. But when you washed this Constitution with the waters which were to render it invulnerable, like the mother of Achilles, you forgot that the part by:which you held it was untouched on the immersion; it was benumbed, and not rendered invulnerable, and therefore it should attract vour nicest care." On January 23d, 1787, again alluding to the disturbances, Mr. Curran said, "The low and contemptible state of your magistracy is the cause of much evil, particularly in the Kingdom of Kerry. I say Kingdom, for it seems absolutely not a part of the same county." 122 LIFE OF CURRAN. In what was called the Right Boy Oath, there was a clause authorizing magistrates to pull down-Roman Catholic Churches at which combinations should be formed, or unlawful oaths administered. On February 19th, 1787, on the motion for the committal of the bill, this clause was objected to, and, though not insisted on, was strongly defended bye the Attorney-General, Fitzgibboni Mr. Curran declared that such an act would be a proclamation of a religious war in Ireland.;:On the following day, on the -:motion that the application of the bill. be limited to: Cork, Kerry, Limerick ard:Tipperary, Mr. Curran supported the limitation-which was lost by a large majority..-On March the 12th, 1787, on- the renewal of the lost bill - for limiting pensions, Mr. Curran again supported it; on the following day he spoke in favour of a resolution moved by Mr. Grattan, that, if tranquillity were restored at the neit opening of the Session; the House would consider the tithe -question. Speaking of the Protestant clergy, he said, " I will never hear -of any attempt to injure their legal rights. I love their religion; there is only one religion under Heaven which I love more than the Protestant, hut I confess there is one-the Christian religion." Grattan's motion was lost, without a division.-: uit was sought to introduce into Ireland, the English Navigation Law, originated by Cromwell, in 1650, and carried out by 1-2th Charles II., c. 18. - The Dublin merchants petitioned against it. Fitzgibbon insulted their petition, Grattan moved an amended clause (not carried) that the act should bind Ireland, only while the benefits and restraints of itwere equal in the two countries. He was supported by Mr. Curran, who said that the Navigation Act was founded on principles of imperial monopoly-to: depress the rivals of Great Britain, gnd to advance the power of the navy. To accept it would be to deprive Ireland of a great commercial right.] e -:.. In the year 1787 Mr. Curran visited France, a country for whose S$IT TO P!:NCE. 123 literature,an manners he had had had veryearly pred1il.ction. The follirwing:letters give an acounu of, itas yfirst iwpression.on him; and, however -:carelessly -writteni their insertion wil1 h1e at least some relief- to the:harsher scenes of political contention, whicb occupy-so much of his: future. histry. DmrPPB, Friday, August 31st, liST. My last fr om Bright0on told you l was setting sail —4.I did so about eight o'clock yesterday evening, and after a pleasant voyage, landed here this day at twelve. To-morrow I set out for Rouen, where I shall probably remain two: or three days. "I cannot say the first view of France has made a very favourable impression on me. I, am now writing in the best lodgingroom in the' best inn of DIieppe, l'-htel de:la Ville de Londrese Monsieur de la Rue,- the host, danced up; to me on- board the packet; did: everything I wanted, and -offered a thousand services that I had noi occasion for.;: I:mounted to my present: apartlment by;a flight of very awkward stairs ]'j the steps, some of brick, -somle of wood, but- most of'both:. The room-contains two old.-fantastical chests of drawers:;,a;itable, on whichi I. now, write; four chhairs, with cane backs and bottoms-; and. a bed, five feet fronm the, bricks.that compose:!the:floor; (the first,,floor).;, the. walls.half- covered with lime;:and: half.with,a miserabie: tapestry. I' dined very wll,.however, on:a small fish like -a trout.,- a - beefsteak, and a bottle of. Burgundy,:iwvhich the maid that:attended me would not admit to be'chevalier.';. "I then w:ialked.out;-:to:see the -town; and, -God knows,. a sad sight it is:.: it..seems tc- have been. once -betterT, but:it is now strength: fallen' into ui-n, and -finery sunk into decay. It smote me wit-h a natal sentint,-.4nt of the mortality of all hruma n things;.and I,;; ws led. by an'qasy itransition ito,nquire for'the churches, I::inquired.:-of- a decent-looking.. m:an, who sat at. a door, knitting stockings-, and he, with great_ civility, stopped his needles, and directed me to the church of St. Jacques, having first told me Low flin it: was, and.:how many- years it was: lbuilt. It:has a profusion .124 LITLE OF CURRAN. of sculpture in it, and, I suspect, not of the best kind; however, the solemnity of the whole mate amends, and indeed, I think, well might, for that deficiency, to me who am so littlh a connoisseur in the matter. I could not but respect the disinterestedness and piety of our ancestors, who laboured so much to teach posterity the mortality of man; and yet, on turning the idea a little, I could,not but suspect that the vain-glory of the builders of pyramids and temples was no small incentive to their labours; why else' engrave the lessons of mortality in characters intended to endure for ever, and thus become an exception to the rule they would establish? But I am turning preacher instead of traveller. "I reserved the view of the inhabitants for the last. Every nation,'t is said, has a peculiar feature. I trust poor France shall not be judged of, in that point, by Dieppe. I had expected to see something odd on my arrival, but I own I was unprepared for what I met; the day was warm, and, perhaps, the better sort of people were all within. Many hundreds were busy on the quays and streets, but any thing so squalid, so dirty, and so ugly, I really never saw. At some little distance; I mistook the women for sailors, with long boddices, and petticoats not completely covering their knees, which I really took for trousers; however, on a nearer view, I saw their heads covered with linen caps, their beards unshaved, and perceived they wore slippers with rather high heels; by which, notwithstanding the robust shape of their legs, and their unusual strut, I ascertained their sex sufficiently for a traveller. "I may say, truly, I did not see a being this day between the ages of fifteen and fifty. I own I was therefore surprised to find that there were children; for such I fo md to be a parcel of strange little figures; the female ones with velvet hoods, and the male with their little curled heads covered with woollen nightcaps, regardless of the example of their hardy old fathers, if they were not their gralldsires, who carried about heads without a hair or a hat to protect them. " Ir. truth, I am at a loss to reconcile so many contradictions as FATHER O'LE&RY. 105 I have met with here even in a few hours. Even though I should not mention the height of their beds, nor the unwieldiness of their carriages, as if the benefit of rest was reserved for vaulters and rope-dancers, and the indolent and helpless only were intended to change their place; but perhaps those impressions are only the first and the mistaken views of a traveller, that ought to see more and reflect more before he forms his opinions. I believe so, too; and, if I change or correct them, the French nation shall have the benefit of my change of opinion. If not, I hope my mistake will not do much injury to the power, or riches, or vanity of his most Christian Majesty. "Yours ever, J. P. C." A few days after, in a letter from Rouen, he says: "I still find myself confirmed every day in a preference for my own poor country. The social turn of these people certainly has the advantage; their manners are wonderfully open and pleasant; but still, in everything I have yet seen, I have observed a strange medley of squalid finery and beggarly ostentation, with a want of finishing in every article of building or manufacture, that marks them at least a century behind us. Yet have they their pleasant points: gay, courteous, temperate, ill-clothed, and ill-accommodated, they feem to have been negligent only in what regarded themselves, and generously to have laboured in what may render them agreeable to their visitors." As Mr. Curran travelled on towards Paris, he received a mark of public attention, for which he was, in a great measure, indebted to his eloquent defence of the Roman Catholic priest already mentioned. His friend, the Reverend Arthur O'Leary (more generally called Father O'Leary*), knowing that he was to pass * Arthur O'Leary, born at Cork, and educated in France, was a Capuchin friar of the order of St. Francis. He was a true and tried patriot, a wit as well as a hurnourist, and a clear-headed, powerful writer. In despair for his country, he retired to England, and 126 LFEi OF'CUlRjAN' through a particular town; wrote to the: superior of a convent'in the neiglibo6rhood,- describing th'e traveller' that was shortly to arlive tihere, and'-:requesting that so ardent a friend of their rengion should be welcomed and entertained with all courtesy a.,o honour. Mr. Curran no sooner reached the place, than ne received a pressing, invitation to take up his abode at the convent.'He' accordingly proceeded thither, and was met at the gates by the abbot and his brethren in procession. -The keys of the co6nvent were presented to him, and his arrival hailed in a Latin oration, setting forth his praises and their gratitude for his noble protection of a suffering brother of their church. - Their Latin was so bad; that the stranger, without hesitation, replied' in -the same language. After expressing his general acknowledgments for their hospitality, he assured them that nothing could be more truly-griatifying to him than to reside for a fe':- days among them; that he should feel himself perfectly at hoine in their society; for that he was by no means a stranger to the habits of la monastic life, being himself no less than a Prior of an Order in his own country-the Order of St. Patrick, or the Moniks of the Screw. Their fame, he added, might never have reached tie Abbot's ears, but he would undertake to assert for them, that, though the brethren of other Orders might be more celebrated for learning how to die, the "Monks of the Screw" were, as yet, unequalled' for iknowing how to -live. As, however, humility was their great tenet and uniform practice, he would give an example of it upon the present occasion, and, instead of acceptirng all the: keys which the Abbot had so liberally offered, would merely take charge, while he stayed, of the key of the'wine-cellar."-(:. This little' playful sally: as accepted in the same spirit of good for many years was officiating clergyman in the Roman Catholic chapel in Soho Square, Londo.'n- ie''died in' 18(02. He was'an" emiinntiy'soial man. One of his retorts has been preserved. To a person endeavouring tb draw him into a discussion about Purgatory, lie answered, " You may go farther, and fare worse."-lM. PARIS n 1787. 127 humour with which it was offered; and the traveller, after passing two or three days with the Abbot, and pleasing every one by his vivacity and conciliating manners, proceeded on his journey, not without a most pressing invita'ion to take advantage of any future occasion of revisiting his friends at the convent. The following is extracted from one of his letters from Paris:' PARIS, September 15, 1787. "I have been all about the world with the Carletons,* visiting churches, libraries, pictures, operas, &c. Yesterday, we went to Versailles, and, though a week-day, had the good luck to see his Majestyt at chapel, after which we went out hunting; after which we viewed the palace, the gardens, statues, &c.; bought two pair of garters at a pedlar's stall in an ante-chamber adjoining the great gallery, and so returned to town. All that could be seen, even on a Sunday, besides, would be the Queen, who would probably take very little notice of her visitors; so I shall probably, I think, go no more to Versailles. Mr. Boysel is perfectly well. I have written to him this day. My health, thank God, has been perfectly good since I caine here, to which, I suppose, the temperance of this country has contributed not a little. I am early as usual; read, write, dine, go to the coffee-house, the play, as usual; one day now seems to be the former, and I begin to be vexed at its being the model of the next. Perhaps upon earth there cannot be found in one city such a variety of amusements: if you walk the Boulevards in the evening, you see at least ten thousand persons employed in picking the pockets of as many millions, reckoning players, rope-dancers, jugglers, buffoons, bird-sellers, bear-ldances, learned beasts, &c. Yet, I begin to grow satiated, arn often wish for a more tranquil habitation." Amolng the traits of French manners, which Mr. Curran, upon * The family of the late Lord Carleton, an Irish judge.-IM. t Loats XVi.-:M. S The benevolent clergyman to whom he chiefly owed his edtlcation.-M. 128 LIFE OF CURRAN. his return,- related as having greatly entertained him, was th6 following little incident, which will be also found to be perfectly characteristic of his own. He was one evening sitting in a box, at the French Opera, between an Irish noblewoman, whom he had accompanied there, and a very young Parisian female. Both the ladies were peculiarly interesting in their appearance, ahd very soon discovered a strong inclination to converse, but, unluckily, each was ignorant of the other's language. To relieve their anxiety, Mr. Curran volunteered to be their interpreter, or, in his own words, "to be the carrier of their thoughts, and accountable for their safe delivery." They accepted the offei with delight, and immediately commenced a vigorous course of observations and inquiries upon dress and fashion, and such commonplace subjects; but their interpreter, betraying his trust, changed and interpolated so much, that the. dialogue soon became purely his own invention. He managed it, however, with so much dexterity, transmitting between the parties so many finely-turned compliments, and elegant repartees, that the unsuspecting ladies became fascinated with each other. The Parisian demoiselle was in raptures with the wit and colloquial eloquence of milady, whom she declared to be parfaitement aimable; while the latter protested that she now, for the first time, felt the full charm of French vivacity. At length, when their mutual admiration was raised to its most ecstatic height, the wily interpreter, in conveying some very innocent question from his countrywoman, converted it into an anxious demand, if she might be favoured with a kiss. "Mais oui, mon Dieu, oui!" cried out the animated girl, "j'allois le proposer moiri6me-;" and, springing across Mr. Curran, imprinted an e'mphatic salutation, according to the custom of her country, upon each cheek of his fair companion; and then turning to him, added, " vraiment, monsieur, madame votre amie est un veritable ange." The latter never discovered the deception; but, after her return to Ireland, used often to remind Mr. Curran of the circumstance, and -LEWER FROM -M. BOYSE. 129 ask "what in the world the young lady could have meant by such strange conduct?" to which he would only archly reply: "Come, come, your ladyship must know that there is but one thing in the world that it could have meant, and the meaning of that is so literal, that it does not require a commentator." The name of Mr. Boyse occurred in his last letter; the friend of his childhood, between whom and Mr. Curran the most cordial intercourse continued, until death dissolved it.* The delicacy of that gentleman's health had obliged him to reside, for several years past, upon the Continent, from which he regularly corresponded with his former pupil. One of his letters, written in this year, shall be inserted, as an example of the kind and confidential feeling that pervades them all. "TO J. P. CURRAN, ESQ.-ELY PLACE, DUBLIN. "BRUXcuLLuS, Feb. 7, 1787. "DEAR JACK, "I. hope my friend's affairs are going well, and flourishing as when I left him: mine, I suppose, are in the last'stage of consumption, so that I almost dread to make inquiry about therl. My health has been so good this winter, that I came from Aix here to escort a Mr. Low and family, my relations, who are on their road to England and Ireland. To-morrow, I return to Aixla-Chapelle, for the remainder of the winter. I hope you wer3 paid the money I drew on you for, as I must soon draw on you again for ~60. If I have no funds at Newmarket, I shall write to Dick Boyvse to pay you, and shall always take care that you shall be no sufferer by me. "Let me hear how you go on, and what chance you have of the bench. I wish you had realized seven or eight hundred a year for your family. Is your health good, and your life regular I saw Grattan and Fitzgibbon at Spa; the former friendly and agreeable, the latter disagreeable to every one. I dined with * Mr. Boyse died a few years after the date of this letter.-C. 130 LIFE OF'CURRIAN. him and Mr. Orde, at:a' club where we: are members, but he was solemn and displeasing to- us al.'My compliments to Grattan and his wife,-and ask him for her on my part;. —she is very amiable. What is to become of us with the;White Boys? If I am not an absolute beggar, I will go home the latter end of the summer. iow go on all your children.? An account of yourself and them will give me pleasure. With best wishes to you all, I am,'dear Jack, yours, sincerely, -:- x "-':.......'i. " NAT. BOYSE.? Mr. oiBse. eame over to Ireland in the following year. Upon the miorning':of his arrival i in: Dublin,- as he was on- his way to Ely Place, he was met by his friend, who was proceeding in great haste to the Courts, and had only time to welcome him, aid bid- himn: defer: his-visit till the hour of dinner. Mr. Curran invited a number of the eminent men at the bar to meet Mr. Boyse; and on returning horme at a late hour from couit, with somei; of his guests, found the clergyman, still in his travelling dress, seated in a fa-miliar posture at the fire, with a: foot resting upon each side of the grate. "'Well, Jack," said he turning round his head, but never altering his position, " here have I been. for -this hour: past-, admiring all the fine things that I see': around me, and wondering where- you could have got them all.' "You. would not, dare," returned Mr. Curran, deeply affected by the recollections which the observation called up, " to assume such an attitude, or use so little ceremony, if you were not conscious that every thing you see is your own. Yes, my first and best of friends, it is to you that I am indebted for it'all. The little boy whose. mind you formed, and whose hopes you animated, profiting by your instructions, has risen to eminence and affluence; but the work is yours; what you see is but the paltry stucco upon the building of which you laid the foundation.2'* * Mr. Ph. lips has worked up this incident into a very dramatic scene-but without VISIT TO - HOLLAND. 131 [In 1788, the Parliamentary Reports only gave one speech by Mr. Curran. It was on contraband trade, and bears date February 19, 1788. It is no)t without a touch of wit and quaintness. After saying that high duties were a premium to the contraband trader, he continued, "The conduct of the gentlemen who conduct the revenue department reminds me of a circumstance which happened in our University somle time ago. The lads had got a custom of breaking the lamps. for a long time there could be found no remedy for this grievance, but mending them when broken, till at length a very sagacious member of the Board of Fellows hit upon a very extraordinary expedient.' The lamps,' said he,'cannot be well broken in the daytime without immediate detection, wherefore if they were taken down at nightfill every evening, and put up every morning, the mischief might be prevented!' The learned doctor's argument has been adopted by the gentlemen of the rev.enue: they find that smuggling has risen to a great height, they then shut up the ports, thereby malking them of no use."] This year (1788) Mr. Curran visited Holland, from which he writes as follows: "' ]ELVOETSLUYS, August 1, 1788. "Just landed, after a voyage of forty-two hours, having left iarwich, Wednesday, at six in the evening. We are just setting out in a treckscuit for Rotterdam. "I can say little, even if I had time, of the first impression that Holland makes on a traveller. The country seems as if it were swimming for its life, so miserably low does it appear; and from the little I have seen of its inhabitants, I should not feel myself much interested in the event of a struggle. We were obliged to put up an orange cockade on our entrance. We have just dined, and I am so disturbed by the settling the Improving it. Even as related here there is much coarseness in Curran's telling the old clergyman, i is benefactor, that he would not dare to assume such an attitude, &c.-M. 132 mLE OF CRRAN. bill, and the disputes about guilders and slivers, &c., that I mast conclude. "Yours ever, J. P. C."' " AMSTEmDAM, August 5, 1785. "You can't expect to find much cntertainment in any letter from Holland. The subject must naturally be as fiat as the country, in which, literally, there is not a single eminence three inches above the level of the water, the greater part lying much below it. We met Mr. iHannay, a Scotchman, on the passage, who had set out on a similar errand. We joined accordingly. A few moments after my letter from Helvoetsluys wag written, we set out in a treckscuit for Rotterdam, where, after a voyage of twenty-four hours easy sail, we arrived without any accident, notwithstanding some struggle between an adverse wind and the horse that drew us. We staid there only one day, and next day set out for the Hague, a most beautiful village, the seat of the Prince of Orange, and the residence of most of the principal Dutch. Yesterday we left it, and on going aboard found four inhabitants of Rouen, and acquaintances of my old friend Du Pont. We were extremely amused with one of them, a little thing about four feet long, and for the first time in his life a traveller. He admired the abundance of the waters, the beauty of the windmills, and the great opulence of Holland, which he thought easy to be accounted for, considering that strangers paid a penny a mile for travelling, which was double what a French gentleman was obliged to pay at home; nor' could it otherwise be possible for so many individuals to indulge in the splendor of so many country villas as we saw ranged along the banks of the canals, allnost every one of which had a garden and menagerie annexed. The idea of the menagerie he caught at the instant from a large poultry coop, which he spied at the front of one of those little boxes, and which contained half a dozen turkeys and as many hens. AMSTERDrAM. 1 "The evening, yesterday, brought us to Amsterdam. We had an interpreter who spoke no language. We knew not, under heaven, where to go; spoke in vain to every fellow-passenger, but got nothing in return but Dutch; among the rest to a person in whom, notwithstanding the smoke, I thought I saw something of English. At length he came up to me, and said he could hold out no longer. lie direct:d. us to an inn; said he sometilles'tnltscd himiself with concealing his country, and that ~once at Rotterdam he carried on the joke for five days, to the great annoyance of some unfortunate Eanlishmen, who knew nobody, and dined every day at the table d'hote he frequented. Last night we sawi a French comedy and opera tolerably performed. This day we spent in viewing the port, stad-house, &c., and shall depart to-morrow for Rotterdam or Utrecht, on our way to Antwerp. " You cannot expect much observation from a visitor of a day: the impression, however, of a stranger, cannot be favourable to the people. They have a strange appearance of the cleanliness, for which they are famous, and of the dirt that makes it necessary: their outsides only have I seen, and I am satisfied ahblda.ntly with that. Never shall I wish to return to a country that is at best dreary and unhealthy, and is no longer the seat of freedonm; yet of its arbitrariness I have felt nothing more than the necessity of wearing an orange riband in my hat. My next will be from Spa, where I hope to be in six or seven days; till then farewelI. "Yours ever, "J. P. C." 18 LTn.OF -c OUaRe. CHAPTER. VIL His Majesty's illness-Commnunicated to the House of Commons-Mr Cur:ar-;s Ppeech upon the Address-Regency question-Formation of the Irish Whig opposition-Mr. Curran's speech and motion upon the division of the boards of stanps and accountsAnswered by Sir Boyle Roche-Mr. Curran's reply-Correspondence anti duel with Major Hobart —Effects of Lord Clare's enmity-Alderman Howison's case. TH.E yecor 1789 was in many respects one of the most interesting and important in Mr. Curran's life. From his entrance into Parliament he had hitherto been chiefly engaged in an occasional desultory resistance to the Irish administration, rather acting:with, than belonging to the party in opposition; but in this' year a momentous question arose, in the progress and consequence of which, there was such a development of the system by which Ireland was in future to be governed, that he did not hesitate to fix his political destiny for ever, by irrevocably connecting himself with those whose efforts alone he thought could save their country. His late Majesty's most afflicting indisposition had taken place towards the close of the year 1788. It is known to all that upon the announcement of that melancholy event, the British parliament proceeded to nominate His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales regent, under particular limitations and restrictions; a mode of proceeding which the Irish ministry were peculiarly anxious that the Irish parliament should studiously imitate. For this purpose great exertions were now made to secure a majority. To Mr. Curran it was communicated that his support of the government would be rewarded with a judge's place, and with the eventual prospect of a peerage; but he was among those who considered it essential to the dignity -of the parliament, and the interests of Ireland, that the Heir Apparent should be invited by THE'EGENCY QUESTION. 135 address to assume the full - nd unrestricted exercise of the regal functions; and fQrtunately for his fame, he had too much respect for' his duties and — his character: to sacrifice them to any considerations of personal advancement. The Irish administration had been anxious to defer the meeting of the legislature until thle whole proceedings respecting the regency should be completed in England, in the hope that the conduct pursued by the British parliament might be followed: as a precedent in Ireland;;but the urgencies of the public business not admitting so; long a delay, the session was opened on the 5th of February, 1789, by the viceroy (the:Marquis of Buckingham), when the King's: illness was for the first time announced to the countrv.* Oii the following day, in'the debate on the address of thanks, his Exc:elelncv's late conduct was made the subject of mnuch severe animadv-ersion. Upon that occasion Mr. Curran.poke nas follo-ws "I oppose the the address,; as an address of delay. I deeply lanment the puiiblic calamity of the:King's indispositio: it itis not so welcome a tale to me as to call for any thanks to the messenger * Early in 1T64, (the year in which George III. suggested to Lord Granville the taxation of America, as a grand financial measure for relieving the mother country from the heavy war expenses, which had chiefly been incurred for the security of the Colonies), GCeorge IIi. l*as attacked by an indisposition of six weeks' duration, which is suspect:l to hawve been similar in its nature to, though less in its degree than, the malady whier assailed him in 17588-'9, and completely clouded the last ten years of his life. It is a wellknown fact, that the Royal Famnily of England have a predisposition to insanity, attributed to their in-and-in breeding system, caused by their marriages with other than royal and Protestant houses being prohibited by law, which -as led to their union with cousins and such near relations. It has been sharp!y said, "';hat the Guelphs are:divided into only two classes,-those who Are bad, and those who are mad.i"- M. t One of the paragzrwtnh.h oP the address upon which the debate arose was the following: "We fe'isTn year exe.elleuny sincere thanks (however we must lamefnt the necessity of CucE c's Celmstaince) for orlering the conimunication of such documents as you have receivedl respecting his majesty's health, as well as for jOur intel tion of laying before us such further information as may assist ourdeliberations upon that melancholy event."-C. [In 1712-'3, Earl Temple (subsequently created Marquis of Buckingham) was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. In December,!757, he was again appointed and held the office for two years.]-M. 136 LIFE- OF cURRAt. that brings it. Instead of thanks for communicating it now, it should be resented as an outrage upon us that he did not comiuunicate it before.* As to thanks for the wishes of Ireland, it is a strange time for the noble Marquis to call for it. I do not wish that an untimely vote of approbation should mix with the voice of a people's lamentation: it is a picture of general mourning, in which no man's vanity ought to be thrust in as a figure. But if it is pressed, what are its pretensions? One gentleman (Mr. Boyd) has lost hundreds a year by his arts, and defends him on that ground; another (Mr. Corry) praises his economy for increasing salaries in the ordnance-the economy of the noble lord is then to be proved only by public or by private losses. Another right honourable gentleman (the Attorney-General) has painted him rs * George III. had a bilious fever in October, 1788. On the 24th of treat month, however, he attended a levee, but, immediately after, exhibited symptoms of insanity. For so;iue tirm before, he had complained of weight or pressure on tbe brain, and anticipated how it wfLuld end. At a private concert, one evening, he eaad to Dr. Ayrton, " I fear, sir, I ilall not be able long to hear music; it seems to affect m iy head, and it is with some difficulty I be,r it. Alas! the best of us are but frail moItais." The King's illness was pub-:icly known in November. Dr. Warren, the regular physician to lhe Royal Household, had no hope of his recovery. Dr. Willis, famous for his success in the treatment of mad people, declared that the malady would be of short duration. Charles Fox and the Opposition held on by Warren's prognostication. Williaml Pitt, and the ministerial party confided in the opinion of Willis. It was generally admitted that a Regency was indispensable, and that the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.) was the proper person, as his heir-apparent, to be appointed. Then came the dispute as to the degree of power which, as the Ning's representative, the Regent should exercise. Fox contended that he should have the royal authority in as much plenitude as the Sovereign himself. Pitt advocated the necessity and legality of imposing various restrictions upon his authority. Pitt's proposition was carried, and tihe bill had reached its last stage, in the English Parliament, when the King suddenly recovcredl —in consequence, it is said, of Dlr. Willis having calned him by sleep, brought on by the use of a pillow stuffed with hops. - Mean. while, the Irish Parliament had hastily carried a measure giving an unrestricted Regency:to the Prince of Wales. The'7ice:oy, having refused to transmit their resolutions to Lontdon, a deputation frotl the Irief Lords and Commons was despatched with them, and made such good speed as to arrive in London a week after the king's convalescence was announced! In one of the stages of the King's malady, it was announced' in one of the bulletins of health, that his Majesty had been so far recovered, as to be able to take:the air on horseback. "Then," said Curran, " all this work about appointing a Regent is gone for nothing. What happiness will be diffused among his Majesty's subjects, when they learn that he is now able to take tne reius."1-M. THE REGENCY QUESTION. ] 37 a. man of uncouth manners, much addicted to vulgar arithmetic, anrd tlherefore en ritled to praise. But what have his calculations done? They.avc discovered that a dismounted trooper may be stript of his b )ots, as a public saving, or that a mutilated veteran might be plundered of half the pittance of his coals, as a stoppage for tlat wooden leg, which perhaps the humane marquis might consider as the most proper. fuel to keep others warm. "But a learned gentleman (Mr. Wolfe)* has defended the paragraph, as in fact meaning nothing at all. I confess I find the appeal to the compassion of the puplic stronger than that to their justice. I feel for the reverses of human fate. I remember this very supplicant for a compliment, to which he pretends only because it is no compliment, drawn into this city by the people, harnessed to his chariot, through streets blazing with illumination; and now, after more than a year's labour at computation, he has hazarded on a paragraph stating no one act of private or of publie good; supported by no man that says he loves him; defended, not by an assertion of his merit, but by an extenuation of his delinquency. "For my part I am but little averse to accede to the senttment of an hlonourable, friend who observed, that he was sooun to leat us, and that it was harsh to refuse him even a smaller civility than every predecessor for a century had got. As 4for nme, I do not oppose his being borne away from us in a conunc-n hearse of his political ancestors; I do not wish to pluck a single faded plume from the canopy, nor a single rag of velvet that might flutter on tlhe pall. Let us excuse his manners, if he could not help them; let us Vass by a little peculation, since, as an honourable member says, it was for his brother; and let us rejoice that his kindred were not more numerous. But I cannot agree with my learned friend who defends the conduct of the noble lord, on the present occasion. The Viceroy here, under a party that had taken a peculiar line in Great Britain, should not have availed himself of his trust to for-ward any of their measures: he should have considered * Mr. Pitt Was the party thus referred to. —M. 138 LIFE OF -CtRRANW. himself bound:by duty and -by delicacy to give the people the earliest' notice' of their situation, and to,have re-iEgiously abistained from anv act; that could add to the'power f'this patty, or emlbalr rass alny administration that might succeed him. Inist.ad lof that, he abused his trust by- proroguing the t o Hciuses, andlt has disposed of every office that became:vacarit in the interval, besides reviving others-that had been dormant for year. Yet the honour-.able member says -he acted the: part of a faithful steward. I know not what the honourable member's indea of a good st-c-,ard is; i will tell mine. A good steward, if his master was risited by infirmity or by death, would secure every article' of his effects for his heir;- he would' enteri into no conspiracy with his tenants; he would renememberhis benefactor, and -not forget his interest. I will also tell.'my idea of a faithless,'unprincipled steward. Hee wiuld avail himself of the moment of family- distraction; while the'filial piety of the son'w'as attending' the sick bed of the father, or mourning over his -grave, the faithless'steward' would turn the melancholy'interval to his private profit; he would remember his own interest, and forget his benefactors, ihe would erndeavour to obliterate or conceal -th.e! title deeds; to' promote cabals anrtong tee etenants of the estate, he would load iti with fictit-iouls in.-u. mbr'Mces; he would reducet it to a wreck. ill order to leave the p1..tider-ed heir no resource fromn beggary ex(cept continuing him in a trusit whstich he had been: vile'enough to betray. I shall not appropriate' either of these portraits to any man: I hope nmost eamnestly that no man may be found in the:community, whose conscience wouldl acknowledge the'resemblance of the latter.:: "1 do(4 not think the pitiful compliment in the address worthy a debate or a division; if -anyl gentleman has a mnind to' stigmatize the object of' it by a poorl, iereditary, unmeaning, u nmerited panefgy ric, let it pass; but I cannot consent to a delay at once so datlgelrouls alnd so disoraceful.'" T1e opposition proved upon thi-:oeccasion the stronger party; * Afterwards Lord Kilwarden.-M. PARLM IENTARY -TACTICS, 139 Mrr.- Grattan's proposal: that'the ilth of February should be fixed fbr taking into consideration the state -of; the nation was carried, against the exertions of the'ministry to postpoIne that important discussion; to a- more distat day. On thle 11th acordingly both Houses met; when, upon the motion of AMr. Grattan' in the onie, and- of Lord Charlemoont in the other, the- address to — the Prince -of Wales,;'equoestir, g his royal'highness to-:take upon himself the, government of Ireland, with the style and title of Prince Regent, and in the name and beh:alf: of'his maj:sty, to' exercis' all regal functions- during hlis majesty's indisposition, was- carried by-large majorities in both houses.* - - * The particulars of, the debate in the Hou-se of Commons upon this interesting subject, in which-Mr. Curran bore a distinguished part, it- would be: superfluous to detail in this place, as the legislative union has for ever prevented the recurrence of such a- question; it will be sufficient merely to observe, that the Whig majority who planned and carried the measure of an address were influinced by two leading considerations.f In the first place it seemed to them that the proceeding by an address was the only one which would not compronise:the independelce of the Irish Parliament. They conceived the present situation of Ireland as:similar in many respects to that of England at the peri:i of -thle revolution: the. throne, indeed, was not actutally vacant, but. an efficient executive was wanting; and upon the * Pitt's plan was that the Prince Regentsshould not have the power of making peers, of granting offices or: pensions, save during Joyftl pleasure, or of making leases; or of having the care of the King's person, or of administering,'save in the Ring's name. Protesting against them, the Prince of -Wales had accepted them from the Engli.sh Parliatnent.- In Ireland, the legislative:resolutikon'~was thiat the Regent should exercise and administer (tall regal powers, jurisdiction, and prerogatives" belonging -to tl. Crown. In-1.811, when the Prince of Wales really became Regent, it was undeir the restrictions of f17S9 —which however, were to cease at the end of twelve months.-.M. t't1he-resolotior (givring unrestricted powver td the Regebt) was moved by Nfr. Thomas Conoily, supported by'C. F. Shlieridan, ibi-': (Teoiry Fitzigerald, Sir Henry Caven iish, Cur. ran, Bushe, and Gratta.n, opposed by Hobairt,'Corry, and Attorney-General Fitzgibbon (afterwards Lord Clare), and carried without a division.-M. 140 LIFE OF- CURRN. same principle. hat tLe two houses;n Engl~Dd hati, of their uown authority, proceededI to srtpply the vacancy by the forim of an address to the Prince of Orange, so it appeared should those of Ireland (an equally independent legisiature) provide for the deficiency of their third estate in the present instance. This line of conduct was strenuously opposed by the Attorney-General (Mr. Fitzgibbon); but the strongest of his arguments were rather startiling than convincing, and made but little impression upon the majority, who justly felt that a great constitutional proceeditg upon an unforeseen emergency should not be impeded by any narrow technical objections,' even though they had been luore unanswerable than those adduced upon this occasion.* Next to supporting the dignity of the Irish Parliament, the Whig leaders of 1789 were actuated by the prospects of advantage to Ireland which they anticipated from the change of admlinistration and of system that were expected to follow their exertions. They were anxious to invest the Heir Apparent with the most, unrestrained regal authority, in the fullest con* The following was one of Mr. Fitzgibbon's arguments: " Let me now for a moment suppose, that we, inll the dignity of our independence, appoint a Regent for Ireland, beoing a different person from the Regent of England, a case not utterly impossible, If the gentlernen insist upon our appointing the Prince of Wales before it shall be known whether he will accept the regency of England; and suppose we should go farther, and desire him to give the royal assent to bills, he would say,' My good people of Ireland, you have, by your own law, made the great seal of England absolutely and esseinti.aly snecesyrary to be affixed to each bill before it passes in Ireland; that seal is in the hawlis of tie Chancellor of England, who is a very sturdy fellow; that Chancellor is an officer under the Regent of England; I have no manner of authority over him; and so, my very good people of Ireland, you had better apply to the Regent of England, and request that he will order the Chancellor of England to affix the great seal of England to your bills; otherwise, my very good people of Ireland, I cannot pass them.'" " This," said Mr. Curran, in his observations upon this argument, " is taking seals for crowns, and baubles for sceptres; it is worshipping wafers and wax in the place of a Kir,t; it is substituting the mechanical quibble of a practising lawyer for the sound deduction of a pllilosopher standing on the vantage ground of science; it is more like the language of an Attorney particular than an Attorney-General; it is that kind of silly fatuity that on any other subject I should leave to be answered by silence a-nd;ontemupt; but wlen blasphemy is uttered against the constittution, it shall not pass under its insig. nioieance, because the essence should be reprehended, though the doctrine cannot mako a proselyte." —A. A BREAK-UP. 141 fidence that the benefits on which they calculated would be commensurate with the power to confer them. How far these sanguine hopes would have been realized, how far the measures of a ministry listening to the counsel of Mr. Fox could have healed the existing discontents, or have prevented the calamities that succeeded, must now be matter of controversial speculation, his,kijesty's health having been fortunately restored before the arrangements regarding the Regency were yet concluded. Although the conduct of the Irish House of Commons at this important crisis has been generally adduced as a proof of the dangerous spirit of independence that pervaded that asseinbly, and therefore insisted on as an argument for a legisla tive union; yet, were it now worth while to examine the subject, it would not be difficult to show that the crowd who on that occasion so zealously volunteered their support of the opposition were influenced by far other motives than a lofty sense of their own country's dignity; and that, however the English government might, at some rare conjuncture, be embarrassed by their versatility, it had nothing to apprehend from their patriotic virtue. No sooner was it ascertained that the cause which they had lately espoused was to be unattended with emolutnent, than they returned in repentance to their tenets; and incontestably did they prove in their subsequent life the extent and the sincerity of their contrition. There were a few, however, who would upon no terms continue their support of the Irish Administration: they lost their places, which they might have retained, and, joining the opposition, adhered to it with undeviating and " desperate fidelity," as long as the Irish Parliament continued to exist.* * Among these were Mr. George Ponsonby, and his brother, Lord Ponsonby; and in lhe upper house, the Duke of Leinster. In a letter to Mr. Grattan, Mr. Curran thus alludes to the formation of the last Opposition in the Irish Parliament: "You well remember the state of Ireland in 1789, and the necessity under which we found ourselves of fortning some bond of honourable connexion, by which the co-operation of even a small number might be secured, in making some effort to stem that torrent which was carrying every thing before it. For that purpose our little party was then formed; it 142 LtF - OF CUXRAN. [On April E21l, 1789;. Curran supported the bill for preventing excise officers from voting at parliamentary elections-a plea'sure then. defeated: by: a: majority of 148 to 93, but since adopted all through the United Kingdom. Four days later he supported Sir. H. Cavendish's resolutions condemnatory of the waste.and useless patronage with which the Dublin police system was attended.] It has been seen in the preceding pages, that the zeal w:th which; Mr. Curran performed his: public duties had alreadlyr twice endangered his life: in the beginning of the year 1i790, it was again exposed.to a similar risk. If his duel with t]i, Irish. Secretary, Major Hobart. (now alluded to), had bean the consequence of accidental intemperance of language or conduet on either side, the account of. it should be hastily dismissed; but such was not its character. The circumstances th).at preceded it are peculiarly illustrative. of the condition of the times, of the state of the Irish House of Commons, of the manner in which that state rendered it incumbent upon an honest senator to address it, and of the dangers that attended him who had the boldness to perform his duty. In the month of February, 1 790, Mr. Curran made the following speech in that House:* independent of the other reasons' for which it is here introduced, it may be offered as amoni the most favourable examples of his parliamentary oratory. coslsted of yourself, the later Duke of Leinster, that excellent Irishman, the. late ivora Ponsonby. Mr. George Ponsonby, Mr. Daly, Mr. Forbes, and some very few others. It may not be for us to pronounce' encomiums upon it, but we are entitled to say, that had it, been as successful' as it was hon2st, we might now look back to it with some degree of satisfaction.,"-C. [The Ministerial deserters in Irelan dwere cashiered in all direction. It was said that the Minister thus made more patriots in one day than patriotism had ever made in a year. Sheridan's younger biothe-r, Chliarle, he Irish Secretary-at War, was among the ejected-but he fared well, for Pitt gave him a pension of ~l,2'00 a year, with a reversion of tSCo to his wife.] —M. * This speech was delivered on February, lF0O, on the question of stamp oltaiers' sLlaries. At that tiine tie Earl of Westmoreland srts Viceroy (he atveeded hlie MarJ;uiis rf Buckingham on January 5,1790), and Major Hobart was his Chief Sdre tary-pa tutli tifin not to be confounded With that of Secretary of State for Ireland, abolished at the U''ion. —M. PARLAMENTRY ORATORY. 143 "I rise withthat deep concern: and melancholyhesitation, vhich a man must feel; who does not know whether he is addressing a-n independent Parliamelit, the, representatives of the people of Ii'eland, or whether he is addressing the representatives of corruption: I. rise to. make theexperiment;: and I approach the question with all those awful feelings.-of a: man who finds a dear friend prostrate and wounded on the ground, and who dreads lest the means he should use to recover him. may only serve to show that he is dead and gone for ever. I rise to make an experiment upon the representatives of the peoplei whether they have abdicatcd their trust, and have. becomne: the paltry representatives of.Castle influence.:it is. to. make- an experimnent on the feelings and probity of gentlenen, as was done.on a great personage, when it:was:. said,!:tho~u -art:the man.' It is not a question respecting a. paltry Viceroy; no, it is a question between the body of the counmtry and the administration; it is a: charge against the governlnent fobr opening:-:the. batteries of corruption against the liberties of. the peopeTh grand inqestof the nation are called on.to decide. this- c.h!arge;:-they are called on to declare whether they would appear'as.the:-prosecutors of the accomplices of corruption: for. though ethe question relative to the division of the Boards of. Stamps and' Accoennts is in itself of little importance, yet will it develop a systemn of corruption tending to the. utter: destruction of Irish.liberty, and to the separation of the connexion with England....!.Sir, I bring forward an. act of the meanest administration that ever disgraced this country.. I bring forward as one of the threads by: which,'tnited. with others of similar texture, the vermin of the meanest kind have been able to tie down a body of strength and importance.... Let me not be supposed to rest here;.when the murderer left:the mark of, his bloody hand upon the wall, it was not the trace of one finger, but the wlitle impression which convieted himrn.-*.' The alhlsicn her3 is probably to a little story popular among children in Ireland, 144 LIFE OF CURRAN. "The Board of Accounts was instituted in Lord Townshend's administration,* it came forward in a manner rather inauspicious; it was questioned in Parliament, and decided by the majority f the five members who had received places under it. Born in corruption, it could only succeed by venality. It continued an useless board until the granting of the stamp duties in Lord ilarcourt's time: t the management of the stamps was then committed to it, and a solemn compact was made that the taxes should not be jobbed, but that both departments should be executed by one board. So it continued till it was thought necessary to increase the salaries of the commissioners in the Marquis of Buckingham's famous administration; but then nothing was held sacred: the increase of the Revenue Board, the increase of the Ordnance, thirteen thousand pounds a year added to the infamous Pension List, these were not sufficient, but a compact, which should have been held sacred, was violated, in order to make places for members of parliament. How indecent! two county members prying into stamps! What could have provoked this insult? I will tell you: you remember when the sceptre was trembling in the hand of an almost expiring monarch; when a factious and desperate English minister attempted to grasp tt, you stood up against the profanation of the English, and the insult offered to the Irish crown; and had you not done it, the union of the empire would have been dissolved. You remember this; remember then yourselvesremember your triumph: it was that triumph which exposed you to submit to the resentment of the Viceroy: it was that triumph which exposed you to disgrace and flagellation. In proportion as you rose by the union, your tyrant became appalled; but when which states that the murderer, intending to cover the whole mark with du3t, left that of one finger uncoieaied; but that he continued firmly to protest his innocmnce, until the removal of thle dust convicted hVm, by displaying an impression corresponding exactly with the size of his hand. A similar circumstance is introduced in an old SFaW-!,h play.-C. * From 1767 to 17T7 — M. t Lord Har-court sun ceeded Lord townshend as Viceroy.'-M. PARLIAMENTARY BUSINESS. 145 he divided, he sunk you, and you became debased. How this has happened, no man could imagine; no man could have suspected that a minister without talents could have worked your ruin. There is a pride in a great nation that fears not its destruction from a reptile; yet is there more than fable in what we are told of' the Romans, that they guarded the Palladium, rather against the subtlety of a thief, than the force of an invader. "I bring forward this motion, not as a question of finance, not as a question of' regulation, but as a penal inquiry; and the people will now see whether they are to hope for help within these walls, or turning their eyes towards heaven, they are to depend on God and their own virtue. I rise in an assembly of three hundred persons, one hundred of whom have pilaces or pensions; I rise in an assembly, one third of whom have their ears sealed against the complaints of the people, and their eyes intently turned to their Gwn interest: I rise before the whisperers of the Treasury, the bargainers and runners of the Castle;:I address an audience before whom was held forth the doctrine, that the Crown ought to use its influence on this house. It has been known that a master has been condemned bv the confession of his slave, drawn from him by torment; but here the case is plain:' this confession was not made from constraint; it camne from a'country gentleman deservedly high in the confidence of Administration, for he gave up othier confidence to obtain theirs. "I know I am speaking too plain; but which is the more honest physician, he who lulls his patient into a fatal security, or he who points out the danger and the remedy of the disease. "I should not be surprised if bad men of great'talents should endeavour to enslave a people; but, when I see folly uniting with vice, corruption with imbecility, men without talents attempting to overthrow our liberty, my indignation rises at the presumption aild audacity' Of the attempt. That such men -should creep into power, is a fat'al symptom to the constitution; the poli 146 LIFE OF CURRAN. tical, like the material body, when near its dissolution, often bursts out in siwarms of vermnin. "In this administration, a place may be found for every bad man, whether it be to distribute the wealth of the Treasury, to vote in the House, to whisper and to bargain, to stand at the door and note the exits and entrances of your members, to inark whether they earn their wages-whether it be for the hireling who comes for his hire, or for the drunken aidde-camp who swaggers in a brothel; nay, some of them find their way to the treasury-bench, the political-musicians, or hurdygurdymen, to pipe the praises of the viceroy. "Yet notwithstanding the profusion of Government, I ask, what defence have they made for the country, in case it should be invaded by a foreign foe? They have not a single ship on the coast. Is it then the smug aid-de-camp, or the banditti of the Pension List, or the infantine statesmen, who play in the sunshine of the Castle, that are to defend the country? No, it is the stigmnaftised citizens. We are now sitting in a country of four millions of people, and our boast;s, that they are governed by laws to which themselves consent; but are not more than three millions of the people excluded firom any participation in making those laws? In a neighboring country,* twenty-four millions of people were governed by laws to which their consent was never asked; but we have seen them struggle for fireedom —in this struggle they have burst their chains, and on the altar, erected by despotism to public slavery, they have einthroned the image of public liberty. "But are our people merely excluded? No, they are denied reclress. Next to the adoration which is due to God, I bend in reverence to the institutions of that religion, which teaches ime to know his divine goodness! but what advantage does the peasant of the South receive from the institutions of religion I *2rance.-M. SIR BOYLE ROCHE. 147 Does he experience the blessing? No, he never hears the voice of the shepherd, nor feels the pastoral crook, but when it is entering his flesh, and goading his very soul. "In this country, sir, our King is not a resident; the beam of royalty is often reflected through a medium, which sheds but a kind of disastrous twilight, serving only to assist robbers and plunderers. We have no security in the talents, or responsibility of an Irish ministry; injuries which the English constitution would easily repel may here be fatal. I therefore call upon you to exert yourselves, to heave off the vile incumbrances that have been laid upon you. I call you not as to a measure of finance or regulation, but to a criminal accusation, which you may follow with punishment. I, therefore, sir, most humbly move: "That an humble address be presented to his Majesty, praying that he will order to be laid before this house the particulars of the causes, consideration, and representations, in consequence of which the Boards of Stamps and Accounts have been divided with an increase of salary to the officers; also that he will be graciously pleased to communicate to this house the names of the persons who recommended that measure." To this speech, containing charges so grave and direct, and so demanding an equally solemn refutation if they were refutable, it is curious to observe the style of answer that was made. When appeals of this nature are received with contumely and mockery, it is, perhaps, among the most certain signs, that the legislature which can tolerate such a practice has completely survived its virtue. Sir B. Roche.-" Though I am in point of consequence the smallest man amongst the respectable majority of thlis house, yet I cannot help feeling the heavy shower of the honoulrable gentleman's illiberal and unfounded abuse. "If I had the advantage of being, bred to the learned.profession of the law, I should be the better enabled to follow '148'IFE OF O01y,., -the honbou.rable ""gentlenian throgh'the long windings of his decliamation;: by i;such;'means I should be blessed: with'the gift of the gab,' anhd:could:d&eelaim.for tan hour:or two upon'the:turniig of' a sttaw,: and' yet say nothing:to the purpose; then- I could': st'an d-; stare, -and -rend, and: tear, and. look up.to:the:gods and goed'de sses-'for approbation. Then in the violence; of. such- deelamati)on, I:- should suppose myself standing at.:-th-e -head' of-my- shop, (at;~the -bar of' tbhe. King's bench), dealing;out:- my: sWurrility:by the; -yard' to -the' highest bidder; my shop':be-ing Wmell- stoied:with:' all sobrts -of- masquerade dresses to sulit all:descriptions of;persons. - The Nevgate:-criminal -(if I:Was *:'ell paid "fol- it) — ltbuld'dress, up in the flowing robes of iinmoence.' The:innocent man (being also well paid for it) I could cover up in a cloak of infamy, that should stick as close to hIm as his regimentals. -" ~':am:sbrry: to:;find thbat- the military character does not: seemn to'tieet With: the- honourabe -gentleman's: aIpprobation. I profess myself to qhlve -had the honour to be:'bred a soldier,:and if there i~ siny' t;hing amiable or -praiseworthy in my -character, I- am enltirely indebted to -that sChool- -for- it. If indeed:I was bred a pettifogger, or a Newgate' solicitor, I shsould'be better enal)led to fotllow the ltearied gentlemain it-irough the variety of matter which he -has introduced' to the house.- My right honourable friend, * upon the floor, is::ainadverted on- and: abused,-because he is a soldier;:but let me tell thie:honourable gentleman below me, that'the high"'ground: of hies honout and character places him above the-:'eac'h of his envenomed shfts,:beatded: with envy,' hatred' and malice. The Viieiroy of this eoiitry is:surro6tdedl by.'military: gentlemen of ithe'first:families ini: both kingdoms:;: they are supposed to. be out of the line of-:al p'olitics, yet: the indecent and disrespectfuid malnnlr ih wlhichlthey: arfe, on this occasion, held out ih: this house, * MSj6r Heolrt.~-O. REPLY i0,; BOQLES -BDEC. 14. does, in myy apprehension,>:deservye the severest censure.. I would, however, recomlmelnd -it: to the hIngourable gentleman to stop -a little ill his career of general abuse of men, who cannot be here to answer, for themselves;:lest.,: those,. gentlemena. (whoQ neer ofiended him) nmiglht- speak'to him.,on.lthe; subject in another place. Oh, shamle! shame,! shamle-.and':reprobation on:such,behavipur 1?' After:a:long debate,:-Ml. Curran -replied, and coneluded with the followingoffbservations upon Sir:Boyle: Roche's language:: "We have boen told this' nigh-t in express.words,:that; the man who dares to do his duty to his: countryin this house may.ex pect tr: be attacked without those walls by the "military gentlemen of the Castle.- If the army had been directly or; indirectly mentioned in the course of the debate, this-: extraordihiary declaration might be attribi.table to the confusion!of, a mistaken charge, or: an absurd vinrdic:ation; but without connexion with the subject, or pretence of Con, extion with the subjc3t, a new principle of governs mnent is advanced, and that is the: bayvnet; and this is stated in the ifflest house, and the most;crowried audience I ever saw. We are to be silenced by corruption.-within, or quelled,. by:force, of arms withbout.-: N'or is it necessary that, those avowed principles of bribery, and:arms C slhould come- from any high: personal authority; they have been delivered by the known, retailers oft ad ministration, in the fitce of that bench, and heard even without a murmur of disent,l or disapprobation: As to my part, I do not knowv-how it may be my destiny to fall; it may be by chance, or malady, or vriclVnce, but should. it be my fate to perish the Nictim of a I:bold:ald honestidischarge. of my. duty, I Iwill not shun it. I Nwill do that duty, and if it should -expose. me to sink under the. blow of the, assassin, and become a victim to the public cause, the amost se.nsiblei.:of my regrets wvo.uld be, that on such an altar there. should not be immolated a more illustrious sacrifice. As to. myself, wvhile I.live,! shall despise thQe.peril., I feel, in my own spirit, the safety of my honour, and in my-own and the.spirit of tlhe people, de I feel strength enough to hold that Administration, 150 LIFE OF CURRAN. which can give a sanction to menaces like these, responsible bor their consequences to the nation and the individual. Mr. Curran had soon occasion to act upon this last declaration. In a few days subsequent-to the preceding debate, he was openly insulted by a -person belonging to one of those classes, upon which he had accused the Administration of squandering the public money. He accordingly deputed one of his friends, Mr. Egan,* to acquaint the Secretary with the outrage that had been committed on him, in consequence of.what he had asserted in the House of Commons, and to express his expectation, " that Major Hobart would mark his sense of such an indignity offered to a Member of Parliament by one of his official servants, in the dismissal of the man from his service." To this application Major Hobart replied, that "he had no power to dismiss any man from the service of government," and after referring Mr. Curran to the House of Commons, as the tribunal, before which he should complain of any breach of his privileges, expressed his surprise "that any application should have been made to him upon the occasion of an outrage commlitted by a person who was as much a stranger to him as he could be to Mr. Curran." Upon this, the following respondence ensued: " TO THE RIGHT HON. MAJOR HOBART. "March 28, 1790. "SIR:"A man of the name of, a conductor of your press, a writer for your government, your notorious agent in the city, * Notwithstanding their friendship, Curran and Egan fought a auel. Curran was small In stature and very slight. Egan was a giant. When the seconds were measuring the ground Egan said, " Curran, my boy, this is not fair, I might as well fire at a lamp post as you, so small are you. Look at me (striking his enormous bulk), you cannot help hitting me." Curran answered, " Very true, my good fellow. Suppose that we chalk my size upon your person; and every bullet outside-the outline shall count for nothing!" They both.smiled as the ludicrous idea, harmlessly exchanged shots, went and breakfasted together, and never again met in a hostile manner. —M. LETTER TO MAJOR HOBART. 151 your note-taker in the House of Commons, in consequence of some observation that fell from me in that House on your prodigality, in rewarding such a man with the public money for such services, had the audacity to come within a few paces of rae, in the most fr'equented part of this metropolis, anRi shake his stick at nme in a manner which, notwithstanding his i-clence, was too plain to be misunderstood. I applied to you to dismiss himl, because he is your retainer, for whom you ought to be responsible. You have had recourse to the stale artifice of office, and have set up incapacity and irresponsibility against doing an act which, as ai minister, you were'Ia, and which, as a man of honour, you should have been ready to do. As to your being a stranger to the man, you knew when you wrote it that it was a pitiful evasion; I did not apply to the Secretary to discard a companion, but to dismiss the runner of a/is administration. As t-,;) voCrI attemrpt to shelter yourself under the Lord Lieutenant, who, during the c'ntinuance of his government, cannot be responsible for such outrages, you should have felt that to be equally unworthy of you. if such subterfuges were tolerated, ev-ery member of Parliament, every gentleman of the country, wbo mig'ht become obnoxious to the Castle, would be exposed to personal violence from the ruffians of your administration. I should give up the cause of both, if I did not endeavour to check this practice, not in tlhe person of the instrument, but of his abettor. I knew perfectly well, the resentments I[ had excited by my public conduct, and the sentiments and declarations I have expressed concerning your administration. I knew I might possibly become the victim of such declarations, particularly when I saw that an attempt at personal intimidation was part of the plan of government; but I was too deeply impressed with their truth to be restrained by any consideration of that sort from making them in public, or asserting them with my latest breath. "Sir, I am aware that you could not be convicted of having actually commissioned this last outrage u.pc1n me.; but that you 152 LIFE OF CURRAN. have protected and approved it I own I am very sorry that you have suffered so unjustifiable a sanction of one: of your creatures to commit you and me personally. However, as you are pleased to disclaim the offender, and the power of punishing hiin, I feel I must acquiesce, whatever may be my opinion on the subject, and though you have forced upon me a conviction that you have sacrificed the principles of a man of honour to an official expediency. This sentiment I should have conveyed thiough my friend, but that it might possibly become necessary that our communication on this business should be public. "I have the honour to be, sir, "Your obedient servant, "JOHN P. CURNRAN' "TO JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, ESQ. "DUBLIN CASTLE, March 29, 1790. " SIR: "Your original application to me, through Mr. Egan, was, that Mr. - should be dismissed from the service of Government, for the insult which he had offered to you; or that Government should co-operate with you in preferring a comnplaint to the House of Commons against him -for a breach of their privileges. This application was, on the face of it, official; and, in answer to it, I pointed out to you, by direction of his Excellency, the Lord Lieutenant, the only mode by which you could have the redress you had sought for the outrage of which you had complained. You have now thought fit to desert the mode of official proceeding, and to couple a personal attack against me with an appeal to the public. "Whatever are your hopes and motives in such conduct, be assured that the attempt of making your cause the cause of the public will never succeed. The public will never believe that I could have directly or indirectly instigated any man to insult you. They will see that the regular mode of redress was open to you, MAJO: IQBOAMRT'S LETTER. 1-53 even:: the. redress, you at, first. aee ted tpo: seqek. You will never fasten a belief on the public that any man was., mad: enough to, insult a member-of PaIiawmenat, rmerel y for his having accused the Government oft prodigality in rewarding him: nor will all your ingenuity serve to entangle me in that transaction, merely because you are pleased. to- style t-r.... my retiMner; or:, to create, a persuasion that: I awm persQnally responsible foi-the resentment of a servant of the Government, who was placed in the situation which he now fills many years before I came into office. The public will view this matter in its true light; and they will clearly perceive, what no man can ever justify, that you have transferred to me the quarrel which another has provoked, for no one. reason, but because you think it politic so to do. "Your parade of the resentments which you boast to have excited by your public conduct, and your insinuation that an attempt at personal intimidation was part of the plan of Government, I cannot condescend to notice. The public will never be the dupes of such a paltry affectation, to give a popular complexion to your quarrel. "As to your charge of my having sacrificed the principles of a man of honour to political expediency, the motive of the accusar tion is too evident to demand a reply. I trust to my own charac, ter for its refutation. "I pity the condition of any man who feels himself reduced to the desperate expedient of endeavouring to wipe off the affronts and insults he has submitted to from others, by forcing a quarrel upon a man who never injured him in the remotest degree; and I am at a loss to conceive how such a conduct can be reconciled to the principles or feelings of a gentleman or a man of honour. "Perhaps a man in a publie situation, and who has given no offence, might be well justified in appealing to the laws, if he should be personally called upon. I do not mean, sir, to avail myself of your example. You say, sir, that it may be necessary that the communication on this subject should be public; had 1 54 LIFE OF CURRAN. you not said so, my answer to-you would have been short, indeed. I have the-honour to be "Your obedient, humble servant,," R. HOBART. "P. SI..-Having put you in possession of my sentiments, I sball consider it unnecessary to answer any more letters." "TO THE RIGHT lION. MAJOR IIOBART.* March 80, 1790. " SIR, "As I wish to stand justified to the public and to you for having had recourse to you on the present extraordinary occasion, I beg, leave once more to trouble you with a few lines, to which no. answer can be necessary. They will be addressed to you- in that temper which the general purport of the last letter I had the honour to receive entitles you to expect. "An unparalleled outrage was offered to me-the person was benelath lmys resentment. In this very difficult situation to- whom could I resort but his masters? and if to them, to whom but the first?'' I never charged you, sir, with instigating that man to such an act:; -but am sorry that I. cannot.add, that such a part has 1been taken to punish him as was necessary to acquit all your administration. I know perfectly well you found him in office, and- also in certain lower confidential departments, which tre -more easily understood than, expressed; and my complaint was, that, afteT sutch gross misconduct,, he continued, there. - "I beg leavre to reminiid you, that I did not say that any man. was mad enough to insult a, Member of Parliament, merely for accusing Government of prodigality in rewarding him; but I * Major Hobart was st ol i and successor to the third Earl.of Buckinghamsbire. i'n died In 181'.-M. HOBART AND CURRAN. 1 5 did say, ai d must repeat, that the insult upon me was nmade in consequence of my having arraigned the prodigality of' rewarding such a man for such services. Permit me to add, that you canniot but have reason to believe this to be -the fact. Some of your Court have talked freely upon the subj ect; and the man, by his own application of the word, has acknowledged his vocation and his connexion. "I must still continue to think, that what you are pleased to call a quarrel is nothing but the result of my public conduct. Sure I am that I should have escaped the attacks that have been made upon my person and character, and this last among others, if that conduct had been less zealous and decided. "As to your charge of my forcing a quarrel upon a man"who never in the remotest degree injured you"-there is' something in: the expression which, I acknowledge, excites in mny mind a very lively concern. And it is an aggravation of the outrage upon me, that it left me no resort, save one painful to lily feelings, but necessary to my situation. "As to the insinuation which accompanies your expression of regret, I am sorry it should have escaped from Major Hopbart. He cannot seriouslymean that I should squander my person upon every ruffian wlho may make an attempt upon mlly life. In the discharge of political and professional duties, every man must expect to excite enemies. I cannot hope to be. more fortunate; but I shall commit myself only with such as cannot disgrace me. A farther answer may be necessary to this part of your letter; but that, as it cannot be so properly conveyed in writing, my friend, Mr. Egan, will have the honour to explain, "I have the honour to be, sir, " Your obedient servant, " J. P. CURRAN." A duel immediately followed, in which neither party received any i! jury. 156 LIFE OF CURRAN. In reviewing this transaction, it would not be difficult for any one, who should feel so disposed, to produce many arguments in support of the conclusion, that Mr. Curran's demuand of personal~ satisfaction from the Irish minister was a' departure from thile usages ofpublic life. Such a person would, however, leave out of his consideration the circumstances that provoked and that could justify such a proceeding-the: inflamed state of the times -the previous debate in parliament-the minister's tacit sanction of the menaces of his adherents-and Mr. Curran's remonstrance upon the occasion not- having produced an observation that could deter the future insulter. The latter was the view which convinced himself and his friends that it was only by some such decisive measure as that which he adopted that the privileges and persons of his party could be secured from farther violence. The particulars of the affair, however, are given here, not as a subject of controversy, but as a striking public fact, and an event in Mr. Curran's political life. Mr. Curran's dispute and frequent collisions in Parliament with Mr. Fitzgibbon have been already adverted to; and, in what ha's been hitherto related, the conduct of neither party has appeared marked by any peculiar aggravations; but the latter having now become Chancellor of Ireland,* Lord Clare remlinmbered the resentments of Mr. Fitzgibbon, and avenged the wounds he had received in the senate by excluding Mr. Curran from all practice in Iris court.t Such a mode of reprisals has been gen'erally * He was appointed in june, 1789, and was tAen called to the House of lords as Baron Fitzgibbon, of Lower Contiello, county of Limerick. In 1798, he was created Viscount Fitzgibbon, and in 1795, Earl of Clare, all in the Peerage of Ireland. In 1799, he was made a Baron in the Pee-rage of Great Britain, and died in 1802. —M. t This was effected by letting the public see that Mr. Curran had not (in the technical phrase) the ea?' of the co-rt —and in this Lord Clare so entirely succeeded, that in a very little time no client would venture to entrust a Chancery cause of any importance to.the discountenanced advocate. Mr. Curran's loss of professional income was extreme. reprehetided as, mereiY unmanly ah d uigenerous; but it wa a great deal more. The misconduct of persons in elevated stations is seldonbi Caias ass ith the rigouir ncevssaiy to their perfect reprobation. So' mnich. does Power imipose upon tfhie. understaidings of men; that, almost trembling toa sciutinize tle offences that should be rriost deposed, thley ae ratier satisfied to consider the enjoymenit of lhigh tlrust as a kind of apology' for its violation. A judge setting his face against a, particular advocate does not commir a, simpl e act 6f unkindness or indecorlun; he offers as crimiinia an outrage as can be imagineto the most sacred privileges of thfe Cmmunity. The claim of the subject to be hearld. with imnpartidaiity is not derived from the favour of the judge; it is a right, as independent of persons, and as saticPtioned by law, as thast which entitles the judge' to sit upon tie' benc hb: it is' the boun'den duity of the latter to afford an honest; uinbiassed attention to every siitor in his court; or (what is equivalent) to sch cdoinsel as the sulitor appoints t0? repesent himself: when tlie judge, therefore, from motive4 of private or political dislike, refitss; on hearing of a cause, the fullest indulgnence that legal proceediigs admit; he not only nwo.rthily marks oiit: ani obnoxious individual as thfe vietiii of his owin angry passion:si diminisling his eredit,,nd therAb'd perhaps, depriving him of his bread; but as far as in lini lies, he directly tends to de'filad the unofleending subjeet of his prop'erty, or his reputation, or his life; he does the same indirectly, by cohpelling tie adv cAte, if he liasa spark of th'e spirit befitting his station, to exhaust in resistaiice to suci unseelilly liartiality a portion of that time and vigour which should be, exclusively appropriated to the service of hir client. These scenes of indecent strife too inevitably stiip the: seatI of law of their character a!d influence; for who can look up with coinfidence or respect to a tribunal, Wher e esees faction There was an immediate diminution of ~1,000 a year, which the Court of Chancery alone had produced; and this an increasing income. The aggregate of his loss he al:ways estimated;t 3tO 00d6-C. .158 LIFE OF CURRAN. domineering over equity, and the minister of justice degraded into a partizan? This flagrant abuse of the judicial functions by Lord Clare has never incurred, in Ireland, all the odium that it merited-with this admirers it was a speck upon the sun, and his enemies had deeper crimes to execrate. The widely different deportment of his successors has also removed all present apprehensions of a repetition of such scenes; still the vicious model may find its, imitators-the tramplers upon human rights are not peculiar to any-generation; and wherever they do appear, their exposure should be insisted on as a future protection to the public; the, characters of such men should be rendered an antidote to their exal~lc.. For this deadly injury inflicted on him by the highest lawofficcr in the kingdom, Mr. Curran was not tardy in taking signal vengean:ce. le saw that his enemy had advanced too far to reccdc —-lle disdained to conciliate him by submission or by mild expostulation... To have acted with forbearance, or even with temlper, (however amiable and prudent, had it been a private case) would have been in the present one, as he considered it, a desertion of what was to him above every personal consideration, of a great constitutional principle, involving the rights and securities of the client, and the honour and independence of the Irish bar. JIb wivas not insensible (it could hardly be expected that he should) to such an] invasion of his feelings and his income; but in resisting. it as he did, with scorn and exposure, he felt that he was assulnling the proud attitude of a public man, contending against a no-xious system of " frantic encroachments," of which he was the accidental victim; and that the result, however unproductive to:his private interests, would, at least, show that the.advocate was not to be scared from the performance of his duty by the terrors of contumely or pecuniary loss; and that though the judge might be for the moment victorious in the contest, his vietory should cost hinm dear. ihe oi.;oitunities of hurling direct' defiance at Lord Clare DUBLIN MAYORALTY. 15 9 might have now.been rare. They could no.longer meet in the House of Commons.; and the Chancellor provided against a fre.. quent intercourse in his court; but an extraordinary occasion soon presented itself, and enabled the injured advocate to execute his objects of retaliation, in the dignified character of a public avengerl, before an audience where every blow was more public and more humiliating. The Lord Mayor of.the city of Dublin is chosen by the Board of Aldermen, whose choice is confirmed, or disapproved, by the Common Council. In the year 1790 [April 16th,] the board elected a person (Alderman James) whom the Commons, without assigning the reasons of their disapprobation, successively rejected.t Their real motive was a determination to continue rejecting the names returned to them, until the election of the Aldermen should fall upon a person attached to the popular cause. The Board perceiving this, and denying that the Common Council hl;td such a right of capricious rejection, returned no more,.and broke up lwithout having duly elected: a Lord Mayor. Ulou this the Sheriffs and Commons (according to the law that provided foi such an event) proceeded to elect one, and fixed upon a popular candidate, Alderman Ilowison.1 * The occasional style of their warfare in the. Court of Chancery, for the little timn that Mr. Curran continued to be employed there, may be collected from the followint instance. Lord Clare had a favourite dog that sometimes followed him to the bench, Ohe day, during an argument of Mr. Culran's, the Chancellor, in the spirit of habitua' petulance which distinguished him, instead of attending to the argument, turned his hlead aside and began to fondle the dog. The counsel stopped suddenly in the mrid.dle of, sentence —the judge started. "1 beg pardon," saidMrI. Curran, "-I thought your l,ordshipe had been in cons/ultation; but as you have been pleased to resume your attention, allom file to impress upon your excellent understandings,..that?'.-&-c.-C. f The fact is, the burgesses of Dublin in their guilds had pledged themselves not tK return any — one as Lord Mayor or Member of Parliament for the city, who held place ol penusion fromnthe government.' Alderman James was doubly obnoxious —first as a place. "holder and next from the nature of'his place,-Commissionership of Police.-MI.. Howison was electetl by 81 votes to S. Napper Tandy led the popular party-Gifforl l:elided thle Opposition in the Common Council.. The Aldermen again elected Aldermat'James.' This led to the appeal' to the Privy Council, on petition ffrom James, who-con. tended that the Commons could not legllsy reject without a8sguit/tr a, catuse. —M. 16@a.18-o CCU o rn ".. This conitest between the Board: of Aldermen alnd the: Caomnons, afier haviing: undergone` muchi violent, discussion, and; excited the utmost agitatioti ii- the mettopolis, was npw brought: before, the Lo'rd&i Lieutenant and? Privy Council (at which Lord Clare presided as Lord Chancellor): for their finail decision. The Council Chamber NVas thrown open as a, public couirt T-he- concourse: of spec, tators, among. whom were the most opulent and respectable citizens: of DUblin, was immeise. The question before the! Court. was to be the mere legal constructioi: of a: aetV of parliament,,* but the ChanAcellor and the Ministry n otoriously favored the pretensions of the Boa-rd of Alderimen, so that: the question before the public was whether the rights! of the city were to; be treated with. constitution-al respect', or to be cr-ushed- by the- despotic power of the Castie.f Uponi this solemn and vital question, MIr. Curran appeared as one of the leading counsel for the Commons and the object oif their choice, Alderinatn Howison. He had not proceeded: far in his argument before: he showed that he did not mean to confine it to the literal and technical interpretation of a statute:; but that, lookinrg at the question as the public did, he should raise it from a cold legal discussion into a great constitutional struggle between the privrileges of the subject and the influence of the Irish Ministry. I3ut he could not have taken a more infallible method of soon reducing it from a question of law, or of principle, into a personal contest between himself and the aristocratic Chancellor. Accord* The 88d Of Oeorge II., c. 16;.-M. t fIratttni, Lord Charilemotit, Lord Perry, Lord Carhampton, the Viceroy, and others attended. FitzgiSbon preside d a hancellor.' Evidence was heard for both sides, The Privy Cotuicil decided for a new election. The Aldermen re-elected James, and the Comnon Council again elected Ho*ison. Two new petitions were sent in. On June 7th, 1790, counsel were heard by the Pirivy Couincil for James and Howison, respectively. The former de'cision was repeatel, —the election went as before. On July 10th, when the case came before the Privy Council for the third time, Curran made the speech, given in the text, in Which hle attacked the Lord Chancellor. Eventually, the Privy Council gave a decisioi6 in- favour of James, who resigned, and both parties then agreed on electing Howlisv-n- tvhe popula:i mian. wtom the Privy Council were compelled to approve of, his c haract-er and claim's beiing unexceptionable.-M. SIR CONSTANTINE PHIPPS. 161 ingly, their hostility imnmediately burst forth'in the interruptions' of the judge, and the contemptuous indifference with which they were treated by the advocate. At length, the latter'(by way of allusion to the unconstitutional conduct "of a'former chancellor, Sir Constantine Phipps, upon a similar occasion) proceeded to draw the following' picture of his irritate'd'enemy, in his own presence, and in that of the assemibled comimunity.* "On grounds like these, for I can conceive no otfer,'do I sup — pose thie rights of the city were defended' in the'time' to which' have alluded; for it appears, by the records which I'have read, that the city was then' heard by; her counsel;'she was not denied the form of defence, though'she was denied the benefit of the law. In this very chalnber did:the Chancellor and Jidges sit, with all the gravity and affected'cattention to arguments in favour'of that liberty and those rights which they' had conspired'to destroy. But to what end,:my lords, offer argument to such men'? A little and'a peevish mind'may be ekxasperated, but how shall it be corrected'by refutation' How fruitless would it have been' to represent to that wretched Cihancellor' that- he' was betrayinig those rights which he was sworn to maiainain; that'he'was' involving a government in disgrace, and a kingdom'ini panic and consternation; that he w'as violating:every sacred duty, and every solemnl * The person who was.the'most zealous in exciting a spilit of bpposition in the Coinmmon Council was Mr. Tandy, a member of the Whig Club. iMr'. Grattan, one of the most' distinguished members of the same association, speaks thus of the above transaction:-"An attack was made on the rights of the city. A doctrine was promulgated, that the Common Council had no right to put a negative on th' Loird Misyor chosen by hlfe Board of'Alderinen,, except the board itself should assent to the negative put on its own choice. This doctrine was advanced by the court, to secure the election of the mayor to itself. In the course of the contest, the Minister involved himself in a personal altercation with the citizens; with Mr. Tandy he had carried on a long war, and with various success. In the compaas of his wrath, he paid his compliments to the Whig Club, and that club advanced the shield of a free people over the rights of the city, and ilulibled the minister, in the piesence of those citizens, whose privileges he had invaded, and whose persons he had caulIlumiated." —Answer to Lord Clare's Pamphlet. Alderman Howison's counsel, Mr. Curran, and the late Mr. George Ponsonby (afterwards Chancellor) were members of the Whig Club, and rfs{ed to accept atiy~remnusera. tion for their exertions upon this occasion.-C. 162 LIFE OF CURRAN. engagement that bound him to himself, his country, his sovereign, and his, God! Alas! my lords, by what arguments could any man hop% to reclaimn or to dissuade a mean, illiberal, and unprincipled minion of authority, induced by his profligacy to undertake, and bound by his avarice and vanity to persevere? Ie would probably have replied to the most unanswerable arguments by sorne curt, contulnelious, and unmeaning apothegml, delivered with the fretful -mile or irritated self-sufficiency and disconcerted arrogance: or even if he could- be dragged by his fears to a consideration of the question, by what miracle could the piginy capacity of a stunted pedant be enlarged to a reception.. of the subject? The endeavour to approach it would have only removed him to a greater distance than he was before, as a little hand that strives to grasp a mighty globle is thrown back by the reaction of its own eflorts to comprehend. It may be given to an Htale or an Hardwicke to discover and retract a mistake: the errors of such men are onlly specks that arise for a mloment upon the surface of a splendid luminary: consumed by its heat, or irradiated by its lifght, they soon purge and disappear; but the perversenesses of a mean and narrow intellect are like the excrescences that grow upFon a body naturally cold and dark; —no fire to waste them, and no ray to enlighllten, they assimilate and coalesce with those qualities so colngellial to their nature, and acquire an inlcorrigible pernainency in the union with kindred frost and kindred opacity. Nor, indeed, mxr lords, except where the interest of millions can be affected by the tolly or the vice of an individual, need it be Imnuch regretted, that to things not worthy of being made better, it hath not pleased PIovidence to afford the privilege of improvemflelt." Lord Clare.*- "Surely, Mr. Curran, a gentleman of your eminence in yollr profession mIst see that the conduct of former Privy Councils has nothing to do with the question before us. * I-I was only Baron Fitzgibbon at the time, not being created Earl of Clare until 17%93.-MI. THE RETURN GAME. 163 The question lies in the narrowest compass; it. is merely whether the Commons have a right of arbitrary and capricious rejection, or are obliged to assign a reasonable cause for their disaplprobationl. To that point you have a right to be heard, but I hope you do not mean to lectule the Council." Mr. Curran.-" I mean; my lords, to speak to the case of my clients, and to avail myself of every topic of defence which I conceive applicable to that case. I amr not speaking to a dry point of law, to a single judge, and on a mere forensic subject; I am addressing a very large auditory, consisting of co-ordinate members, of whom the far greater number is not versed in law. Were I to address such an audience on the interests and rights of a great city, and address them in the hackneyed style of a pleader,.I should make a very idle display of profession, with very little information to those I addrless, or benefit to those on whose behalf I have the honour to be heard. I ami aware, my lords, that truth is to be sought only by slow and painful progress: I know also that error is in its nature flippant and compendious; it hops with airy and fastidious levity over proofs and argutments, and perches'upon assertion, which it calls conclusions." Here Mr. Curran's triumph over his proud enemy was comnplete. The sarcastic felicity of this description of the unfavourable side of Lord Clare's mind and manner was felt by the whole audience. The Chancellor immediately moved to have the chamber cleared, and during the exclusion of strangers was understood to have ineffectually endeavoured to prevail lipon the Council to restrain the advocate fiom proceeding any further in that mode of argument Wvhich'bhad given him so much offence. From this period till the year 1794, Mr. Curran's public history consists principally of his Parliamentary exertions. The Opposition "persisted to combat the project to govern Ireland by corruption:" for this purpose they brought forward a series of popular measures;* in the support of all of which Mr. Curran + The most important of these were Mr. Forbes's motion for a place bill, Mr. Grattan's 161t ALIFE.OFC;;tRAN. took a ]leadiig.part.*- Lord; Charlemront's biographer, who heard him~:m upon all, those occasionsjsays of him, " That he animated for an inquiry into the sale, of Pe'erages, the Catholic:question, Parliamentary, Reform. The inquiry regarding the sale of Peerages was twice moved; by Mr. Grattan, in 1790, and by Mr. Curran in the following year: both: in6tions' failed, althibugh the fullest evidence of tile fact was offel'ed. "I have proof,"Tsaid Mr. Curran, "and I stake my-character on producing such evidence to a committee, as-shall fully and incontrovertibly establish the' fact, that'a contract ha's'been entered intowithtthe present shinisters to raise to thelpeeraye a ertali- perfsons, on ~ondition of their ptschasing! a certain number of, seats in this house." Upon this last occasion Mr. Curran. was loudly called to order,.for having reminded the house, "that they should' be cautious in thieir decision'on this question for they wtre t: i the hearihog:f a:reat-: mseber* of the'people o: IreiZratd."' Mr. Grattan defended the expression, and thought the doctrine of censure passed upon it inconsistent with the nature of a popular assembly such as a House of Commons: in'sup. port of this opinion: he:quttieI an' expresstor of Lord Chathanm, wh6 in:thdehouse'of peers, where such languagewas certainly less proper than'in a house of commons, addressed the peers, "My Lords, I speak not to your lordships; I speak -to the public and to the constititIion." " The wdid's:," added lGrattan, "Were at first received wi.th some murmurs, but the goiod senise of the h6use-and: the geniuasof te- constitutioi' justified him.'" Mr. Curran, on resuming, repeated the expression, and was again interrupted by violent cries to order', which, however, he silenced by, obser'-ing, "I do not allude: to any strangers in your galtery, but I allu'de to the'cotfetiueti-ve presence of four-milli'ons;ofpeople, whoma serjeant at arms cannot keep unacquainted with your proceedings. —-Irish P'arl. Deb.f 1791. Durinag the debate upon':the sitne subject in thi/ preceding yiaar, Ml. r:Mta'n pr'odlced a paper, and read as follows: " We charge them-(the -Ministers) publicly,!in the face of their country, with making corrupt agreements for the sale of peerages: for doing vwhich, we say that they are' impeachable, We charge' themn with corup!t -agreements foi- the disposalof the money arising Tfrom-the sale, t0 purchase foir th-e servants -of the Castle seats in the Assembly of the People; for which we say that they are inmip,,clihatle. We charge them with committing these offences, not in one, nor in two, but in many instances; for which complication of offences-w.e say that- -they are- impeachable; guilty of a systematic endeavour to undermine the Constitution, in violation of the laws of the. land. We pledge ourselves to convict them; we dare them to go into an inqujiry; we do not affect to treat them as other than publi in'ealeftiict6is'; we speak to them in a style of the most mortifying and humiliating deifanCe; we pronounce themto- be public criminals. Will they dare to deny the charge? I call upon and dare the ostensible member to rise in his place and say, on his honour, that he does not'believe such corrupt agreements * The debates: in which, during; this period (1791-A),- Curlan took a —aleading. part wmre ~n February 12, 1791, when he made a long and powerful attack on the cor'ruption of the Irish Government,' and being reproved for alluding to strangers in the House, said, "I do not allude to strangers in the gallery, but to the constructive presence-of the peopleof Ireland;" on February 18, 1792, when he argued- in favour of the removal of Roman Catholic disabilities; on January 11, 1793, on the approaching war with France;:n February-9, 1793, in favor of Parliamentary Reform.-M. IN' PAPcLIAME NT. 165 every debate with all his powers; that he was copious, splendid, fall of wit, and life, and ardour." Of the justice of this praise sufficient proofs might be given, even from the loose reports of his speeches upon those questions; but it will be necessary in the following pages to offer so many examples of his forensic oratory, upon. which his,:reputation.so mainly depends, that.his efforts -in Parliament become;:as, fiar as his -eloquence is. concerned, of secondary moment, and claim a passing attention, rather with reference to his history and conduct, than as necssary to his literary fame. have.taken;places, I:waijt for a specific, answer."....Major Hobart. avoided a:specifi answer. Six days after, Mr..Grattans, alluding to these charges, observed, "Sir, I have been told it was said that I should have been stopped, should have been -.expelled the,:Commons, should have.bpeel delivered up to,the,.bar, of.the.Lords for the expressions delivered that day. I will repeat,.w.hat I, said that day." After reciting the charges geriatimn in the same wordt, he thus concluded,-" I repeat these charges now, and if any thing, more severe, was on/.a former. oc.asion expresse.di I:beg to be reminded of it, and I will..again:repeat it,:Wlhy do you not.expel.me. nowd?. Why not send me to the bar of the Lords? Where is your adviser? Going out of the House, I shall repeat my sentiments, that his, Majesty's Ministers are: guilty of impeachable offences, anrd advancing to -the bar of: the Lords, I shall. repeat these sent:ments; and if the Tower is to be.my habitation, I will.there meditate theimpeachment of these Ministers, and return not to capitulate, but to punish;. Siri I think I know. myself well enough to say, that if called forth to.suffer in,.a public cause:I,. will go. further. than, my-prosecutors both in tu in.. danger." —. 166 LIFE OF CURRAN. CHAPTER VIII. State of parties-Trial of Hamilton Rowan —Mr. Curran's fidelity to his party-Rev. William Jackson's Trial, Conviction, and Dearth-Remarks upon that Trial-Irish Informers —-lrish Juries-The influence of the times upon Mr. Curran's style of Orate ry. TFmE period was now approaching which afforded to Mr. Curran's forensic talents their most melancholy, but most splendid occasions of exertion. With this year (1794) commences the series of thJose historical trials which originated in the distracted condition of his countwy, and to the political interest of which his eloquence has now imparted an additional attraction. From the year 1789 the discontents of Ireland had been rapidly increasing; the efforts of the Opposition in Parliament h'ving failed to procure a reform of the abuses and grievances of which the nation complained, an opinion soon prevailed throughout the community that the Irish Administration had entered ilht,, a formal design to degrade the country, and virtually to ~n ~,ul its lately acquired independence, by transferring the;thsolute dominion over it from the English Parliament, which had previously governed it, to the English Cabinet, which was to be its future ruler. Without inquiring now into the truth of this opinion, it will be sufficient to observe, that, in the agitation of the many irritating questions that it involved, it soon appeared that Ireland had little hope of seeing them terminated by the gentle methods of argument or persuasion. The adherents of the Administration, and their opponents, were agreed upon the fact of the universal discontent, and upon the dangers that it threatened; but they differed widely upon the measures that should be adopted for the restoratioz of repose. THE PAST. 167 The first were determined to use coercion. They seenled to think that popular excesses are almost solely the people's owD creation-that they are naturally prone to disaffection-that complaints of grievances are resorted to as a mere pretext, to gratify this propensity; and, consequently, that a provi dent government should vigourously resist every movement of discontent as the fearful tokens of projected revolution. In conformity with these opinions it appeared to them that terror alone could tranquilize Ireland; and, therefore, that every method of impressing upon the public mind the power of the State, no matter how unpopular their nature, or how adverse to the established securities of the subject, should be adopted and applauded as measures of salutary restraint. The truth and expediency of these doctrines were as firmly denied by others, who maintained that conciliation alone could appease the popular ferment. They deplored the general- tendency to disaffection as notorious and undeniable; but they considered that there would have been more wisdom in pleveliting than in punishing it; that a very little wisdom would have been sufficient to prevent it; and that in punishing it now, the Ministry were "combating, not causes, but effects." They denied that the great imass of the Irish, or of any comlnrunity, were naturally prone to disaffection. "Their natrl.;-, impulses (they observed, in replying to the advocates of coercionl) are all the other way.' Look into history; for one revolution, or attempt at revolutionf of how many long and uninterrupted despotisms do we read; and, whenever such attempts occur, it is easy to assign the cause. There is one, and only one, way of measuring the excellence of any Government —by considering the condition of the governed. No well governed people will desire to exchange real and present blessings for the danger and uncertainty of remote and fantastic speculations: and if ever they are.found to commit their lives and fortunes to such desperate experiments, it is the most conclusive evidence that they are .1568 LIFE OF CIURAN. badly- governed, and that their sufferings have impelled them "to rise up in vengeance, to rend their chai.ns upon the heads of their oppressors." Look to the neighbouring example of France, and. see what abominations anj infuriated populace may be brought to practise upon their rulers and upon themselves. Let Ireland be saved from the.ppssiblity of such a crisis. The majority;of its people.are in a state of.odious exclusion, visiting *them. in. its! daily conseqyuences, witht endless insults and privations,:which, being minute and; individual, are only the more intolerable. Would it not be w'se then, to listen to their claim of equal privileges, which, if granted, would give you the strong-.est security. for their loyalty? There, are other grievancesthe notorious corruption of the legislature-the enormity of the Pension List and many more-of these the nation complains. and seems determined to be heard.* The times are peculiar.; and, if the popular. cry be not the voice of wisdom, it should at least be that of warning. The mind of all Europe is greatly.agitated: a general distrust of Governments has gone abroad; let that of Ireland.exhibit such an example of virtue and moderation, as may entitle it to. the confidence of the people. The people seem inclined to turbulence; but treat, it as a disease:* very session the Opposition, again and again, pressed upon the Ministers the dangers to which their system was exposing the State. Thus Mr. Grattan observed, early in'1793, "They (the Ministers) attempted to put down the Constitution; but now they have put down the Government. We told them so-we admonished them-we told them their driving would not do. Do not they remember how in 1790 we warned them? They said we were severe-I am sure we were prophetic. In 1T91 we repeated our admonition-told them that a Government of clerks would not do-that the Government of the Treasury would not do-that Ireland would not long be governed by, the trade of Parliament;, we told them that a nation, which had rescued her liberty from the giant of Old ESngland, wouid not long bear to be trodden on by the violence of a few pigmies, whom the caprice of a Court.had appointed Ministers." Mr. Curran's language was equally emphatic-" Ireland thinks, that, without an immediate reform, her liberty is gone —I think so too. While a' single guard of Biitish' freedom, either internal or'external, is wanting, Ireland is in bondage. She looks to us for her emancipation. She expects not impossibilities from us-but she expects honesty and plain dealing; and, if she finds the'm note remember what I predict-she will abiominate her Parliament aend'lootk for a i'rbirm to hedrdlf;i"-Pa?'l;.08b, Tifi.- 0. IAMILTON ROWAN. 169 rather than avenge it as a crime. Between a State and its subjects there should be no silly punctilio; their errors can never justify yours: you may coerce-you may pass intemperate laws, and uniheard-of tribunals, to punish what you should have averted-you may go on to decimate, but you will never tranquilize." These were in substance the views and arguments of the minority in the Irish House of Commons, and of the more reflecting and unprejudiced of the Irish community; but such mild doctrines had little influence with that assembly, or with the nation. By the Parliament the few that advanced them were regarded as the advocates of the existing disorders, because they ventured to explain their origin, and to recommend the only cure; while the people were industriously taught to withdraw their confidence from public men, who, instead of justifying the popular resentments by more unequivocal co-operation, were looking, forward to the impending crisis as an object of apprehension, and not of hope. Such was the condition of the public mind-the Government depending upon force —the People familiarising themselves to projects of resistance-and several speculative and ambitious men of the middle classes wat hing, with yet unsettled views, over the fermenting elements of revolution, until it should appear how far they could work themselves into union and consistency, when Mr. Archibald Hamilton Rowan* published an adress to the Volunteers of Ireland, setting forth the dangers with which the country was threatened from foreign and domestic foes, and inviting them to resume their arms for the preservation of the general tranquillity. This publicsotion was prosecuted by the state as a sedi* Mr. Rowan was secre*trr to the Society of United Irishmen in Dublin. It is proper to observe here, that this was one of the original societies of that denomination, whose views did not extend beyond a constitutional reform. They have been sometimes confounded with the subsequent associations, which, under the Sme popular appellation, i;lneed at a revolution.-C. 8 -170 LIFE OF CURRAN. tious libel, and Mr. Curran was selected by Mr. Rowan to conduct his defence. The speech in lefence of Hamilton Rowan has been generally considered as one of Mr. Curran's ablest efforts at the bar. It is one of the few that has been correctly reported; and to that circumstarce is, in some degree, to be attributed its apparent superiority. Notwithstanding the enthusiastic applause which its delivery excited, he never gave it any peculiar preference himself. The opening of it has some striking points of resemblance to the exordiumn of Cicero's defence of Milo. If an imitation was intended by the Irish advocate, it was very naturally suggested by the coincidence of the leading topics in the two cases-the public interest excited-the unusual military array in the courtthe great popularityvof the clients-and the factious clalnours which preceded their trials.* "When I consider the period at which this prosecution is brought forward-when I behold the extraordinary safeguard of armied soldiers resorted to, no doubt, for the preservation of peace and order-when I catch, as I cannot but do, the throb of public anxiety, that beats from one end to the other of this hall-when I reflect on what may be the fate of a man of the:most beloved personal character, of b-ne of the-most respected families of our country, himself the only individual of that family, I may aliost say of that country —who can look to that possible fate with unconcern'? Feeling,- as I do, all these impressions, it is in the honest simplicity of my heart I speak, when I say that I never rose in a court of justice with so much embarrassment as on this occasion. * Nam ilia praesidia, quae pro templis omnibus cernitis, etsi contra vim collocata sunt, nob's afferunt tamen horroris aliquid: neque eorum quisquam, quos undique intuentes cernitis, unde aliqua pars fori adspici potest, et hujus exitum judicii expectantes, non cum virtuti Milonis favet, tum de se, de liberis suis, de patria, de fortunis hodierno die decertari putat. IJnum genus est adversum infestumque nobis eorum,- quos P. Clodii furor rapinis et!nbndiis et omnibus exitiis publiicis pavit; qui:esterna etiam concione incitati sunt, ut vob)is voce prnirmnt, quid judicaretis.-C. THIE DEFENCE. 171 "If, gentlemen, I could;:entertain a hope of finding refuge for the disconcertion of my own mind in the perfect composure of yours; if I could suppose that those awful vicissitudes of humnin events that have been stated or alluded' to, could leave your-jlldgments un.dlisturbed or your hearts at ease, I know I should forml a Imost erroneous opinion of your clharacter. I entertain no such chimerical hope- I form no such unworthy opinion-I expect:not that your hearts can be more at ease than ny.own-I have no righ to expect it; but I:']lave a rigvht to cal! uponl you in' the name of your country, in the' name of the living God, of whose eternal justice you are now administering that' portion which dwells with us on this side of tile glrae, to discharge your bi'easts, as far as you are able, of every bias of prejudice or passionthat, if my client be guilty of the offence charged upon him, you may give tranquillity to the public by a firm verdict of coinviction; or, if he be innocent, by as firm a verdict of acquittal; and that you will do this in defiance of tihe paltry artifices and senseless elamours that have been resorted to, in order to bring him to his trial with anticipated conviction. And, gentlemen, I feel an additional necessity of thus conjuring you to be upon your guard, from the able and imposing statenment which you have just heard on the part of the prosecution:. i knows well the virtues and talents of thle excellent person who' cor,.llcts that prosecution.* I know lowV mucihl he would disdain to'}.5upose on youby the trappings of office; but I also know ol'W' easiint. we mistake the lodgment which character and eloq:uelvte can make upon our feelings, for those'impressions that rea..nj and fact, and proof only ought to work upon our understanings.'': -Wlhen MrA. Curran calne to',se.;ve upon that part of the publication under trial, which proposed complete Emancipation to persons of every' religious persuasion; he expressed himself as follows: "Do you think it Wise or humane, at this -moment, to insult * The Attorney-General, Mr. Wolfe, afterwards Lord Kilwarden.-O. 172 LIFE. OF CURRAN. them (the C;atholics) by sticking up in the pillory the man who dared to stand forth as their advocate? I put it to your oaths; do you think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men bold( and honest enough to propose that measure?-to propose the redeeming of religion froml the abuses of the church, the reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right to demand it?-Giving, I say, in the so much censured words of this paper-giving' Universal Emancipation?' " I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes Liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil; which proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced -no matter in wvhat complexion incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun ml:y have burnt upon him-no matter ih what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven downno matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery-the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him; and he stands redeemed, regenerated and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of Universal Emancipation." There is, farther on, a passagge on lthe fireedom of the press, too glowing and characteristic to be omitted: "If the people say, let us not create tulnult, but meet in delegation, they cannot do it; if they are anxious to promote parliamentarv reform in'that way, they cannot do it; the law of the last session has, for the first time, declared such meetings to be a crime. What then remains? —The liberty of the press only —that sacred palladiul which no influence, no power, no minister, no govern LIBERTY OF THY PRESS.'1 13 ment, which nothing but the depravity, or folly, or corruption of a jury can ever destroy. And what calamities are the people saved fiom, by having public communication left open to them? I will tell you what they are saved from, and what the government is saved from. I will tell you also to what both are exposed, by shuttiz-,, up that communication. In one case sedition speaks al-iud,,, and walks abroad; the demagogue goes forth —the public eye is upon hil —he frets his busy hour upon the stage; bitt s(oll either weariness, or bribe, or punishment, or disappointment, be.ar him down, or drive him off, and he appears no more. In the other case, how does the work of sedition go forward? Night after nighit the muffled rebel steals forth in the dark, and casts another and another brand upon the pile, to which, when the hour of fatal naturity shall arrive, he will apply the flame. If you doubt of the horrid consequences of suppressing the effusion even of individual discontent, look to those enslaved countries, where the protection of despotism is supposed to be secured by such restraints. Even the person of the despot there is never in safety. Neither the fears of the despot, nor the machinations of the slave, have any slumnber; the one anticipating the moment of peril, the other watching the opportunity of aggression. The fatal crisis is equalfly a surprise upon both; the decisive instant is precipitated withlout warning, by folly on the one side, or by phrensy on the other; and there is no notice of the treason till the traitor acts. But if you wish for a nearer and more*interesting exanple, you have it in the history of your own Revolution; you have it at that memorable period when the monarch found a servile acquiescence in the ministers of his folly-when the liberty of the press was trodden under foot-when venal sheriffs retulrned packed juries, to carry into effect those fatal conspiracies of the few against the many-when the devoted benches of public justice were filled by some of those foundlings of fortune, ewho, overwhelmed in the torrent of corruption at an early period, lay at the bottom like Orowned bodies, while soundness or sanity remained in them; buit 17a:LIFE OF CURRAN. at length, becoming buoyant by putrefaction, they rose as they rotted, and floated to the surface of the polluted stream, where they were drifted along, the objects of terror, and contagion, and abomination.* "In that awful moment of the nation's travail-of the last gasp of tyranny and the first breath of freedom, how pre-gnant is the. example. The Press extinguished, the People enslaved, and the Prince undone. As the advocate of society, therefore, of peace, of domestic liberty, and the lasting union of the two countries, I conjure you to guard the Liberty of the Press, that great sentinel of the State, that grand detector of public ilnposture-guard it-because when it sinks there sinks with it, inl one common grave, the liberty of the subject, and the security of the Crown."The concluding passage of this speech (of which the preceding extracts are insertedlmerely as examples of its style) contains one of those fine Scriptural, allusions, of which Mr. Curran made such frequent and successful use: " I will not relinquish the confidence that this day will',e thl period of his sufferings; and however mercilessly he has been hitherto: pursued, that your verdict will send hin home to the arms -of his family-and the wishes of his country. But if (which Heaven forbid) it hath still been unfortunately determined: that, because he has. not, bent to power and authority, because he would not bow. down before the golden calf and worship. it, he is to be bound and cast into tf e furnace; I do trust- in God, that there is a redeeming spirit in the Constitu* Althdugh it has been doubted by some who have observed upon this passage, whether its vigour could atone for the images that it presents, it may not be ungratifying to hear the manner in which it was suggested to the speaker's mind. A day or two before Mr. Rowan's tiiai, one of Mr. Curran's frientdsshlowed him a letter.that he had just received from Bengal, in which the-:writer, after mentioning the Hindoo custom of throwing the dead into the Ganges, added, that he was then upon the banks of-that river, and that, as he wrote, he could see several bodies floating down its stream. The orator, shortly after, while des'cribilg a corrupted-bench, recollected this fact, and applied it as above.-0. ISATuLTON ROWAN. 1 tion, which will be seen to walk with the sufferer through the alaies, and to preserve him unhurt by the conflagration." If the expression of excited emotions by the auditors be the test of eloquence, this was the most eloquent of Mr. Curran's forenlsic p],roductions. To applaud in, a court of justice, is at all times irregular, and was then very; rare; but both during the delivery and.after the conclusion of this speech, the by-standers could not refrain from testifying their admiration by loud and repeated bursts of applause: when the advocate retired from the court, they took the horses from his carriage, which they drew to his -own house; yet notwithstanding this public homage to his talentss the most grateful reward of his exertions was wanting-the jury, of whose-purity very general suspicions were entertained, found a verdict against his client.* [rIn the autumn of 1792, the Governlmeut issued a Proclai.ation against the Irish Volunteers, who replied to it, in an address, written by Dr. Drennan, and signed by Archibald Hamlilton RIowal, as Secretary. Both were prosecuted. Rowan, as here related, was defended by Curran. It is stated by Thomas Davis that'he had seen the back of Curran's brief, on which were written the catch-words of his speech in this case, viz., " To Arms* Mr. Rowan was sentenced to fine and imprisonment. In the month of June, 1794, Dr. William Drennan was prosecuted for the publication of the same libel. lie was defended by Mr. Curran, and acquitted; not, however, on the merits of the imputed libel, but on failure of proof that Dr. Drennan had published it. On the first of the preceding May, Mr. Iowan effected his escape from prison, and fled to France. After a long exile, and many'wanderings, he wasl permitted, a few years ago, to return to iris country:-C. [The reason why Hamilton Rowan escaped from prison was simply this. After he was incarcerated, in pursuance to his sentence, the Rev. William Jackson, an emissary froii the Committee of &adaut Psbliqse of Paris, accompanied by olie Cockayne (a London pettifogging attorney, acting as incendiary and spy for William Pitt, the lEnglish Prime Minister), visited him in prison, and engaged him rather deeply, and most nnsuspectingly, in the schemes of obtaining French aid for Ireland, in which Jackson was interested. On Jackson's arrest, on.a charge of high treason,' Rowan dreadcd the vengeance of the Government, and escaped to France. Thence he went to America, returlned to EIurope in 1800, received the King's pardon in 1802, and died in 1834, at the age ol e ghty-four. —M.] 17'6 LIFE OF CURRAN. 2nd, Reform-3rd, Catholic Emancipation-4th, Conventionnow unlawful-Consequence of Conviction —Trial before Revolution —Lambert-Muir-Character of R. —Furnace, &c.-Rebel lion Smothered Stalks-Redeeming Spirit." The trial commenced on January 29th, 1794, Wolfe (Attorney-General, and afterwards Chief Justice) stated the case. Witnesses were examined to show Rowan's connexion with the document charged as a seditious libel. Curran's speech (one ol the best he ever made) then followed, and. on its conclu3ion, a shout of admiration and sympathy arose in the crowded Court, which the Judge (Lord Clonmel) with difficulty stopped. When Curran quitted the Court-house that day, the populace, who waited for him, took the horses from his carriage, and drew hils home.'he Attorney-General replied to Curran, vindicating him.self fiom the charge of having unnecessarily and oppressively endeavored to delay the trial. The Prime Sergeant (James Fitzgerald, father of O'Connell's vanquished opponent at Clare election in 1828) replied seriatim to Curran. Lord Clonmnel charlged, not only strong'ly but violently, against Rowan. The jury convicted, after only ten minutes' deliberation. Rowan waived his right of taking four days to decide whether he would move for an arrest of judgment, but Lord Clonmel declined passing sentence until the four days had expired, and committed Rowan to prison dluring the interval. On February 4, 1794, however, Rowan's counsel applied to set aside the verdict, on several grounds, viz., that one of the jurors, before the trial, had made a hostile declaration against the prisoner; that one of the High Sherifls, who struck the jury pa:lel, was partial and hostile; that the principal witness had committed perjury; and that the Judge (Lord Clonmel) had misdirected the jury. The case was argued at great length, by Curran, and responded to by the Crown lawyers. On February 7, the Judges (Clornmel and Boyd) decided against the application for a; new trial. Before sentence was passed, Rowan himself DR. DRENNAN. 1 T addressed the Court, stating that froln his position and large stake in tlhe country, he was the last man who could wish for an insurrection. The sentence was a fine of ~2,000, two year's imprisonment, and. to find security (himself in ~'2,000, and two others in ~1,000 each) for his goods behaviour for seven years. It had been suggested to, and discussed by the Government, whether, to make the punishment as exemplary as possible, Rowan should not also be put in the pillory. It was feared that this would array the gentry against the Crown (the pillory being a punishment for crimninal and not political offences), and that the populace would not permit it. So the idea was abandoned —if ever seriously entertained. In April, 1794, Mr. Curran appeared at Drogheda Assizes for P'atrick Kenna and six others, in a respectable sphere of life, (commonly called "The Drogheda Defenders"), for seditiously conspiring to raise a levy war and insurrection against the King. They were acquitted, whereupon the Crown withdrew their indicttments against other persons. In May, 1794, when the proprietors of the NVorthlern Star (a Beltast liberal paper) were prosecuted for publishing "wicked and seditious libels," as many as seven informations were filed, but only one broug'ht to trial. Currlan, for the defence, raised the point that there was no evidence that twelve of them were guilty of a deed not done by themselves. rThe sole printer (John Rabb) was convicted; all the rest, by direction of the court, were acquitted. The defence of Rlabb was that the publication was no libel. The mere cost of the license (~10 in each case) for Mr. Curran, the King's Counsel, to plead against the Crown, on the seven informations, was ~70. In June, 1794.,Doctor William Drennan, who, as Chairman of the meeting of Volunteers, had signed the Counter-pro.clamation, for issiing which (as Secretary) Rowan had been tried, convicted, fined and imprisoned, swas put on his trial' for having published that docclulm-lent, which was declared to be " a seditious libel." Lord Clonmel, Mr. Justice (afterwards Lord) Downes and Mr. Justice Chain8* 1'78 LIFE OF CtURES. berlain were the judges. Sir J$ohn Trail, was objected o by Mr. Currain —on the -ground that he had formed an opinon on the subject of the: prosecution. The Crown-Lawyer not allowing him to be sworn to ascertain the truth of this, from his own lips, the Knight was sworn on the jury and became its foreman. The evidence was inconclusive, weak, and insufficient. Curran addressed the jury at considerable length. The Prime Sergeant replied a,ngrily. The judges charged hostilely. The jury returned a verdict: of "Not guilty," and- when this was received with applause, Trail (the foreman), called the spectators "an unruly and seditious: rabble," adding the regret of the jury "at seeing a criminal they cannot reach — and guilt which they cannot punish."]* In the beginning of the-year 1795, Lord- Fitzwilliam having become Viceroy of Ireland, Mr. Curran was upon the point of being raised:to. the. situation: of Solicitor-General; but the sudden recall -of that nobleman defeated this, as well as many other projected changes. It should be mentioned here, that from the year 1789, frequent attempts were made by. the adherents of the Administration to detach Mr. Curran from the party which he had formally joined, at that'period.:Every motive of personal ambition was held out to allure him, and all the influence of private solicitations exerted, but in vain. About this time, when the general panic was daily thinning the ranks of:the Opposition, his most intimate and attached friend, the late Lord Kilwarden (thee the Attorney-General) frequently urged him to separate himself fiom a hopeless cause, and to accept the rewards and honours that were so open * Dr. Drennan, the accused, was the author of " Letters of Orellana, an Irish lielot,"' in a Belfast paper, in whlch he strenuously urged the necessity of Parliamentary Reform. He was one of the earlijest and most zealous promoters of the Society of United Irishmen, and author of the well-known test of their confederacy. He' wrote some admirable Letters to Pitt and'Fox against the Union. In the song of " Erin to her own tune?'" he first spoke of Ireland as " the Emerald Isle." Who has not heard his " When Prin first rose." He died in 1820.-M. JACKSON S TRIAL. 179 to himn. Upon one occasion, when Mr. Currar was confined by illness to his bed, that gentleman visited hit., and renewi;jg the subject, with tears in his eyes, implored him to consult his interest and his safety: "I tell you (sa-id Mr. Wolfe) that %you have attached yourself to a desperate fac`tion, that will abflndon you at last; with whom you have nothing to expect but danlger and disappointment. With us, how different would be your condition-I ask for no painfuil stipulations on your part, only say that you would accept of office-my situation will probably soon be vacant for you, and after that, the road would be clear before you." This proof of private affection caused Mr. Curran to weep, bult ho was unshaken. He replied, "that lie knew, better titan his friend could do, the men with whom lie was associated; that they were not a desperate faction; that their cause was that of Ireland, and that even though it should eventually be branded with the indelible stigma of failure, he should never regret that it was with such men, and such a cause, that he had linked his final destinies." TRIAL OF TtHE REV. W. JACKSON. The next state trial of importance in whlich MP. Curran was engaged, was that of Mr. William Jackson, a case of which some of the attending circumstances were so singular, that they cannot be omi-nitted here. Mr. Jackson was a clergyman of the established church; he was a native of Ireland, but had for several years resided out of that country. A part of his life was spent in the family of the noted Duchess of Kincgston, and lie is said to have been the person who conducted that lad1cy's controversy with the celebrated Foote.* At the period of the French Revolution, he passed over Paris, where he formed political connections with the ruling ~ Poote, at the close of his letter to her Grace, observes: "pray, madam, is not J —-n 180 LIFE OF CURRAN. powers there: from France he returned to London in 1 94, for the purpose of procuring information as to the practicability of an invasion of England, and was thence to proceed to Ireland on a similar mission. Upon his arrival i. London, he renewed an iniinmacy with a person named Cockayne, who had formerly been his firiend and confidential attorney. The extent of his conmlnunications, in the first instance, to Cockayne did not exactly appear; thae latter, however, was prevailed upon to write the directions of several of Jackson's letters, containing treasonable matters, to his correspondents abroad; but in a little time, either suspecting or repenting that he had been furnishing evidence of treason against himself, he revealed to the British minister, Mr. Pitt, all that he knew or conjectured relative to Jackson's objects. By the desire of Mr. Pitt, Cockayne accompanied Jackson to Ireland, to watch andl defeat his designs, and as soon as the evidence of his treason w,as mature, announced himself as a witness' for the Crown. Mr. Jackson was accordingly arrested, and committed to stand his trial for high treason. It did not appear that he had been previously connected with any of the political fraternities then so prevalent in-Ireland, but some of them took so deep an interest in his fate, that the night before his trial, four persons of inferior condition, members of those societies, formed a plan (which, however, proved abortive) to seize and carry off Cockayne, and perhaps to dispatch him, in order to deprive the Government of the benefit of his testimony."* Mr. Jackson was committed to prison in April, 1794, but his the name of your female confidential secretary?" and afterwards, "that you may never want the bene.fit of clergy in every emergency, is the wish of Yours, &c."-C. * Trial of John Leary for high treason, Dec. 2Sth, 1795. This fact carte out on the cross examination of Lawler, an informer, and the witness against the prisoner in this case. Lawler was one of the party that was to have seized Cockayne: he did not actually admit that he was to have been assassinated; but he allowed that the objection to such a measure was, " that if Cockayne were put to death, and the court should know it, the informations he had given could be read in evidence against Jackson." From the cha. racter of Lawler, however, it was generally suspected that assassination waa intended.-aC. JACKSON' S TRIAL. 181 trial was delayed, by successive adjournments, till the same month in the following year. In the interval, he wrote and published a refutation of Paine's Age of Reason, probably in the hope that it might be accepted as ant atonement.* [The trial took place on April 23, 17f-;5. The judges were Lord Clonmel, Mr. Justice Downes, Mr. Justice Chamberlain. The principal witness was Cockayne, the spy. Curran, who defended Jackson, principally relied on the fact tlat no conviction for high treason could take place in England with TWO witnesses to the facts, whereas it was thus attempted, in Iresland, to convict on the evidence of ONE. The anomaly was not removed until 1854, when the law was made the same in both countries. The trial lasted until four in the morning, when Jackson was, Examples of honourable conduct, no matter by whom displayed, are heard with pleasure by every friend to human nature. Of such, a very rare instance was given by this gentleman during his imprisonment. For the whole of that period he was treated with every possible indulgence, a fact which is so creditable to the Irish Government, that it would be unjust to suppress it. Among the other acts of lenity extended to him, was a permission to enjoy the society of his friends. A short t!:ue before his trial, one of these remained with him to a very late hour of the night: when he was about to depart, Mr. Jackson accom.panied him as far as the place where the gaoler usually waited on such occasions, until all his prisoner's visitors should have retired. They found the gaoler in a profound sleep, and the keys of the prison lying beside him. "Poor fellow!" said Mr. Jackson, taking up the keys, " let us not disturb him; I have already been too troublesome to lhirn in this way." He accordingly proceeded with his friend to the outer door of the prison, which he opened. Here the facility of escaping naturally struck him —he became deeply agitated; but after a moment's pause, "I could do it," said he,'" but what would be the consequence to you, and to the poor fellow within, who has been so kind to me? No! let me rather meet my fate." Ie said no more, but locking the prison door again, returned to his apartment. It shculd be added that the gentleman, out of conlsideration for wlho.n such an opportunity stas sezctiflced, gave a proof upon this occasion that lie deserved it. Tie was fully aware of the i.:[.l con sequences of aidlingiin-the escape of a prisoner committed under a charge of higlh t-ceason, and felt thatV in-the present inistance, it would have been utterly impossible for him to' dfsprove the circumstantial evidence that would have appeared against him; yet he never uttered a syllable to dissuade his unfortunate friend. He, however, considered the temptation to be so irresistablb that, expecting to find the prisoner, upon further reflection, availing himself of it, he remained all night outside the prison door, with the Intention, if Mr. Jackson should escape, of instartly flying from Ireland.-O. 1.82 LIFE OF CURRAN. convicted. lIe was brought up for judgment on the 30th April, 17951*] It is at this stage cf the proceedings that the case of Jackson becomes terribly pecuiiisr. Never, perhaps, did a British court of justice exhibit a spec:a.ce of such appalling interest as was witiessed by the: King's Benck. of Ireland, upon the day that this unfortunate gentleman wcn;s summoned to hear his fate pronounced. Hle had a day or two before made some allusions to the -subject of suicide.. In a conversation with his counsel in the prison, he had observed to them that his food was always cut in pieces before it was brought to him, the gaoler not venturing to trust him with a knife or fork. This precaution he ridiculed, and observed, "that the man who'eared not death, could never want the means of dying, and that as long as his head was within reach of the prisonwall, he could prevent his body's being suspended to scare the community." At the rnoment, they regarded this as a mere casual ebullitivn, andl did not give it much attention. On the morning of the 30th of April, as one of these gentlemen was proceeding to Court, he met in the streets a person %warmly attached to the Government of the day; the circumstance is trivial, but it marks the;-.rty spirit that prevailed, and the manner,n which it was sometimes expressed: "I have (said he) just seen your client, Jackson, pass by on his way to the King's Bench to receive sentence of death. I always said he was a coward, and I find I was not mistaken; his fears have made him sick-as the coach drove by, I observed him with his head out of the window, vomiting violently." The other hurried on to the Court, where he founcd -t:lis client supporting himself against the dock; his frame was in a:state of violent perturbation, but his mind was still col* The report of Mr. Curran's de-fence of Jackson will be found in the lately published volume of Howell's State Trials. It was (as he observed himself) "a narrow case," and affoided few materials for the dispay of eloquence. The principal points which he urged were the necessity of two witnesses (as in England) and the impeached character of the single witness, (0 ckayne.-C. SUICIDE OF A C01UVICT. 183 ]ected. He beckoned to his counsel to approach him, and making an effort to squeeze him with his damp and nerveless hand, uttered in a whisper, and with a smiie cf mournful triumph, the dying words of Pierre: "We have deceived the senate."* The prisoner's counsel having detected what they conceived to be a legal informality in the proceedings, intended to make a motion in arrest of his judgment; but it would have been irregular to do so until the counsel for th Crown, who had not yet appeared, should -first pray the judgm. et of;he court upon him. During the interval, the violence of the prisoner's indisposition momentarily increased, and the Chief Justice, Lord Clonmel, was speaking of remanding him, when the Attorney General came in, and called upon the court to pronounce judgment upon him. Accordingly, " the Reverend William Jackson was set forward," and presented a spectacle equally shocking and affecting. His body was in a state of profuse perspiration; when his hat was removed, a dense steam. was seen to ascend from- his head and temples; minute and irregular movements of convulsions were passing to and fro upon his countenance; his eyes were nearly closed, and when at intervals they opened; discovered by the glare of death upon them, that the hour of dissolution was at hand. When called on to stand up before thle Court, he collected the: remnant of his force to hold himself erect; but the attempt was tottering and imperfect; he stood rocking from side to side, with his arms in the attitude of firmness, crossed over his breast, and his countenance strained by a last proud effort into an expression of elaborate composure. In this condition he faced all the anger of the offended law, and the more confounding gazes of the assembled crowd. The Clerk of the Crown now ordered him to hold up his right hand; the dying man disentangled it fiom the other, and held it up, but it instantly dropped again! Such was his state, when in the solemn simplicity of the language of the law, he was asked, " What he 0 Otway's Venice Preserved. 184. LIFE OF CTIURRAN. had now to say why judgment of death and execution thereon, should not be awarded iagainst him according to law?" Upon this Mr. Curran rose, and laddressed some arguments to the Court in arrest of judgment. A!c gal discurssion of considerable length ensued. The coldition of AMr. Jackson was all this while becoining worse. Mr. Curran proposed that he should be remanded, as he was in a state of body that rendered any communication between him and his counsel impracticable. Lord Clonmel thought it lenity to the prisoner to dispose of the question as speedily as possible. The windows of the Court were thrown open to relieve him, and the discussion was renewed; but the fatal group of death tokens'were now collecting fast around himn; he was evidently in the final agony. At length, while Mr. Ponsonby, who followed Mr. Curran, was urging further reasons for arresting the judgment, their client sunk in the dock.* The conclusion of the scene is given as follows in the reported trial. Lord Cloninel-" If the prisoner is in a state of insensibility, it is impossible that I can pronounce the judgment of the Court upon him." Mr. Thomas Kinsley, who was in the jury box, said he would go down to him; he accordingly went into the dock, and in a short time informed the Court that fhe prisoner was certainly dying. By order of the court, Mr. Kinsley was sworn. * As soon as the cause of Mr. Jackson's death was ascertained, a report prevailed that his counsel had been previously in the secret, and that their motion in arrest of judgment was made for the sole purpose of giving their client time to expire before sentence could be passed upon him: but for the assertion o? "hlis, fact, which, if true, would have placed them in as strange and awful a situation as can well be imagined, there was no founda. tion. So little prepared were they for such an event, that neither of his assigned counsel (MNessrs. Curran and Ponsonby) appeared in court until a considerable time after the prisoner had been brought up. It was Mr. M'Nally, w.o had been one of his assistant counsel upon the trial, andl who found him in the condition above described, that first becam. acquainted with the fact of his having taken poioln; and he, at the request of the unfor. tulnate prisoner, rose as am1icus eru'ioe, for the purmc3e of occupying the court till th, others should arrive and make their intended motion. It was probably from this circum stance that the report origlnated. —C. A TRAGEDY IN COURT. 185 Lord Clonmel —" Are you in any profession?" Mr. Kinsley —" I am an apothecary." Lord Clonmel —" Can you speak with certainty of the state of the prisoner?" Mr. Kinsley —" I can; T think him verging to eternity." Lord Clonmel-"IDo you think him capable of hearing his judgment?" Mr. Kinsley —" I do not think he can." Lord Clonmel-"" Then he must be taken away; take care that in sending him away no mischief be done. Let him be remanded until further orders; and I believe it as much for his advantage as for all ycurs to adjourn." The Striff informed the Court that the prisoner was dead. Lolrd Cloumel —" Let an inquisition, and a respectable one, be held on the body. You should carefully inquire by what means he died." The Court then adjourned, and the body of the deceased remained in the dock, unmoved from the position in which he had expired, until the following day, when an inquest was held. A large quantity of metallic poison was found in his stomach. Thile preceding day, a little before he was brought up to Court, the gaoler having visited his room, found him with his wife, much agitated, and vomiting violently; he had just taken, he said, some tea, which disagreed with him; so that there remained no doubt that the unfortunate prisoner, to save himself and his family the shame of an ignominious execution, had anticipated the punishment of the laws by taking poison. The following sentences, in his own handwriting, were found in his pocket. "Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me, for I am desolate and afflicted." "The troubles of my heart are enlarged; oh, bring thou me out of my distresses." "Look upon my affliction and my pain, and forgive all my sins." 18.LIFE OF CURRA. "Oh! keep my soul' and deliver me. Let me not be ashamted. for I put my trust in thee." Independent of this- awful scene, the trial of Jackson was a memorable event. It was the first trial for high treason which had occurred in that Court for upwards of a century. As a matter of:legal and of constitutional interest, it established a precedent of the most vital (Englishmen would say, of the most fatal) importance to a community having any pretension to freedom. Against the authority of Coke, and the reasoning of Blackstone, and against the positive reprobation of the principle by the English legislature, it was solemnly decided in Jackson's case, that in Ireland one witness was sufficient to convict a prisoner upon a charge of high treason-" that the breath which cannot even taint the character of a man in England, shall in Ireland blow himn from the earth."* This decision has ever since been recognised and acted upon, to the admiration of that class of politicians (and they have abounded in Ireland) who contend that in every nmalady of the State, blood should be plentifullv drawn; and to the honest indignation of men of equal capacity and integrity, who consider that, without reason or necessity, it establishes an odious distinction, involilng in it a disdain of what Englishmen boast as a precious privilege, alluring accusations upon the subject, and conferring security and oinnipoten.ce upon the informer. It is a little singular to observe, in the State Trials that followed, the effects of such a law, and to what a class of witnesses it faniliarized the Irish- Courts of Justice. From the event it would appear, that there was as much prophecy, as of constitutional zeal, in Mr. Curran's efforts to prevent its establishmcet., and afterwards to produce its repeal.t To say nothing butt * Mr. Curran's defence of Jackson.-C. t Two days after Jackson's conviction, Mir. Curran moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill for amending the law of Ireland in cases of highl treason, and assimllating it with that of England. The Attorney-General earnestly inrtreated of thle mover to postpone the introduction TRESON WITNESSES. 187 of a few of those cases in which he acted as counsel, the facts of Jackson, Weldon, M'Cann, Byrne, Bond, the Sheareses, Finney, rested allmlost entirely upon the credibility of a single witness. All of these, except the last, were convicted; and that they were inmolived in the projects, for wlhich they were tried and suffered, is now a matter of historical notoriety. Few, it is- hoped, will maintain the darngerous puririple, that the subject should have the inducement of impunity to conspire against of this bill, lest it might throw a character of illegality upon Jackson's conviction. IlHe believed that the present difference in the law of the two countries (as to the number of witnesses required) did not arise fiom casual omission, but.from serious deliberation; it was (he thought) rattier necessary to.strengthen the Crown against the popular crime, than to strengthen the crimintl against the Crown. Mr. Curran differed, and considered the rock on which criminal law generally split was its excessive sevetity. For the reason first assigned, however, he agreed to postpone the bill; but foreseeing its inevitable failure, he never brought it forward again. Ir. England, by different statutes regulating trials for high treason, two witnesses are required. (Algernon Sydney's attainder, as is well known, was reversed, because, among other reasons, there had been but one legal witness to any act of treason.) When those statutes were enacted in Ireland, the clauses requiring two witnesses were omitted. Upon Jackson's trial, therefore, the question wals, what had been the old common law of England. Lord Coke lays it down, that by thatt - law one w itnress was never sufficient. Judge Foster, differi:,t frti him, gives it as his, and as the general opinion, that two were not require.! by tlhi common law. Of the saute opiniotn is Sergeant Hawkins. These (acc.iti'.ng to the report of Jackson's trial) were the only authorities referred to by Lord Clonmnel in deciding the point.. For the colstrariety of opinions upon this subJct, see the proceedings in Sir J. Fenwick's case, State Trials. i: cannot be too much lamented, that in such an important particular the law of the.wo countries: shl-ould thus diffe.'he iprincililde cannot'be tight in both. Inlretior regulations nity vary, but the laws that provide for the safety of the State and the security of the subject are inot local ordinances; they are general laws, and should be founded on the ip rinciples whichi are to te derived fromn an experience of tie eoperation of human passions, and of the value of human testimony. In Ireland, it i has been said, that Trom the state of society, the Crowvn demanded additional security; but the same argument applies as strongly the other way; for if any conimunity is in such a state of dlemorali-:ation that its nmembers ate found violating their oaths, and indulging their passions by frequent acts of treason. is it not equally clear that tliey will not refrain firom doing the same by frequent acts of peijured evid:ence Wi'hoever willsubmlit to the " penance" of reading the English or Irish State:Trials, wili;soon- perceive that tleason and perjury are alwaiys cotemporary crilmes, ndt thatt the dangers. of the Ccrown and of the subject are at every period are reciprocal and commensurate. Certainly, as the laws at present stand, either the English subject enjoys too many privileges, or the Irish too few; but that the former is n(ot the case long experienmce has now incontestably established.-C. 188 LIFE OF CURRAN. the State —such a doctrine would bring instant ruin upon any society; but every fiiend to constitutional law will distinguish between the evidence that precedes a conviction and that which follows; he will remember that the forms of trial, and the legality of evidence, have not been established for the solitary purpose of punishing the guilty; that their most precious use is for the security of innocence; and that if, forejudging the real offender, we too hastily deprive him of a single privilege of defence, we establish a perilous rule that survives the occasion and extends beyond it, and of which those who never offended amay hereafter be the victims. If the trials of the individu.als just named be considered with reference to this view, they will be found to contain matter of important reflection. We may not feel justified in lamenting their personal fate —in giving to their memories " the traitorous humanity and the rebel tear," yet we cannot but be shocked at the characters of the persons by whose evidence they were carried off. These were all of them men of blighted reputation. It was not merely that they had been accomplices *in the crimes which they came to denounce; and that, finding the speculation dangerous and't nprofitable, they endeavoured to retrieve their credit and circumstances, by;et;ti ng up as "loyal apostates." Deeper far w is, if no. tl:eir legal offence, their moral depravity,. Dreadfui were the e.onfessions of guilt, of dishonour, and irreligion extorted firoi, these wretches. If their direct examination produced a list of the prisoners' crimes, as regularly did their cross-examination elicit a:tarker catalogue of their own. In the progress of their career, fromn participation to discovery, all the tender charities of life were abused-every sacred tie rent asunder. The elgent, by the semllbtlanee of fidelity, extracted the secret of his client and his friend, and betrayed him!-* The spy resorted;o the habitation of his rictim, and, while sharing his hospitality, * Jackson's Trial. CONDITION OF THE COURTS. 189 and fondling his children, was meditating his ruin.* Here was to be seen the wild Atheist, who had gloried in his incredulity, enjoying a lucid interval of faith, to stamp a legal value on his oatht-there the dishonest dealer, the acknowledged pelrjurer, the future murderer.t It hats been often a matter of surprise that juries had not the firmness to spurn altogether the testimony of such delinqutents. In England, upon a recent occasion,~ a jury did so; but in Ireland there ragted, at this time, an epidemic panic. In the delirious fever of the moment, even though the juror might not have thirsted for the blood of the accused, he yet trembled for his own-affrighted by actual danger, or by the phantoms of his disturbed imagination, he became blind or indifferent to the horrors of the immediate scene. The question was often not whether the witness was a man he could believe, but whether his verdict dare assert the contrary. Perhaps the more flagitious the witness, the more absolutely was he the tyrant of the juror's conscience. Any movements of humanity or indignation in the breast of the latter must have instantly been quelled by the recollection, that to yield * Jackson's Trial and the Trial of the Sheareses. A few days before Cockayne had openly announced himself as an informer, he was invited to accompany Jackson to dine with a frienld of the latter. After dinner, as soon as the wine had sufficiently circulated, Jackson, according to a previous suggestion from Cockayne, began to souind the political dispositions of the company, and particularly addressed himself to a gentleman of rank who sat beside him, and who, there was subsequent reason to believe, was deeply involved in the politics of the time. During the conversation, Cockayne appeared to have fallen asleep; but, in the midst of it, the master of the house was called out by his servant, who informed him, that he had observed something very singular in Mr. Jaekson's friend —" he. has his hand," said the servant, " over his face, and pretends to be asleep, but when I was in the room just now I could perceive the glistening of his eye through his fingers." The gentleman returned to his guests; and whispering to him who was conversing with Jackson to be cautious of his language, probably prevented some avowal which might eventually have cost him his life. Upon such trivial accidents do the fates of men depend in agitated times!-C. t Trial of the Sheareses.-C.: Finney's Trial; and the other State Trials of 1798.-O. ~ Trial of Watson and others for high treason, —C. r9iO LIFE OF CURRAN. to them mightf be to point out himself as an object of suspicion, and as the next experiment for-an adventurous and irritated informer. It is in the same circumstances that we are to look -for an excuse (if excuse be necessary) for those impassioned appeals, for that tonie of high and solemn obtestation, by which Mr. Curran's professional efforts at this period are distinguished.l In more tranquil times or in a more taranquil country, such enthusiasm may appear extravagant and unnatural; but it should be reimlembered, that, from the nature of the cases, and the character of lhis audience, his address often became rather a religious exhortation than a mere forensic': harangue.* IHis situation -was, very different't from that of the English advocate, who, presupposing in his hearers a respect for the great fundamental principles of law and of ethics, securely appeals to thiiem, in the conviction, that, if his client deserves it, he shall have all their benefit. In Ireland, the client was not:ertain of all their: benefit. In Ireland, during those distracted Nays, every furious passion was abroad. The Irish advocate knew * Of this, exemples will occur,- in the following pages. Upon inferior occasions we find him impressing the most obvious political truths, by a simplicity of illustration, which'shows the description of men among whom he was thrown. When he wished to explain to a jury, ",that their country could never:be prosperous, or happy, without a general participationi of happiness to all'its'people," he Ithus: proceeds:- A privileged order in a state may, in some sort, be compared to a solitary individual separated from the society, and unaided by-the reciprocal converse, affections,'or support of his fellow men. It, is like a tree standing singly on a high hill, and exposed'to the rude concussions of every varying blast, devoid of fruit or foliage. If you plant trees around It, to shade it from the inclemency of the blighting tempest, and secure to it. its adequate supply of sun and moisture, it quickly assumes all the luxuriance of vegetation, and proudly rears its head aloft, fortified against the noxious gales which agitate and wither the unprotected brambles lying without the verge of the plantation.'Upon this principle acted the dying man, whose family had been disturbed by domestic contentions. Upon his death-bed -he calls his children around him; he orde;si a bundle of twVigsto be brlought; le has them untied; he gives to eacl of them a single twig;' he orders thein to be broken, and it is done with facility; he next orders the-twigs to be united in a bundle, and diirects each of them to try his strength upon it. They shrink from the task as-impossible. -'Thus, my children, (continued the old man) it is union alone that can render you secure against the attempts of your enemies, and preserve you in that state of happiness which I wish you to enjoy.'" -Speech st Drience of Bird, flam~l and ot'hers, tried at Droghedz, 1794 —C. JURY-PACKING. 191 that the juiries with whom he had to deal were often composed of men whose feelings of, humanity and religion were kept under by their political prejudices-that they had already foredoomed his client to the grave-that, bringing with them the accumulated animosities of past centuries, they camle less to try the prisoner than to justif'y themselves, and make their verdict a vote of approbation upon the politics of their party.* To make an impression upon such men, he had to awaken their dormant sympathies by reiterated statements of the. first principles of morals and religion: he addressed himself to their eternal- fears, his object being frequlently, not so much to direct their minds to the evidence or the * The following observations of Mr. Curran will give some idea of the juries of those days: he is addresing a jury impannelled to try the validity of a challenge: —' This is no common period in the -history of the world-they are no ordinary transaetions that are now passing before us. All Europe is shaken to its centre; we feel its force, and are likely to be involved in its consequences. There is no man who has sense enough, to be conscious of his own existence, who can hold himself disengaged and unconcerne(1 amidst the present scenes-; and, to hear anman say that he is unbiassed and unprejudiced, is the surest proof that he is both. Prejudice is the cobweb that catches vulgar minds; but the prejudices of the present day float in the upper regions-they entangle tho lofty heads-they are bowing them down-you see them as they flutter, and hear them as they buzz. Mr. - has become a very public and a very active man; he has his mind, I doubt not, stored with the most useful and extensive erudition-he is clothed with the sacred office of a minister of the Gospel-he is a magistrate of the county-he is employed as agent to some large properties-he is reputably connected, and universally esteemed, and therefkreis a man of no small weight and consideration in this country. He has more than once positively sworn that he has applied to the high sheriff-that he struck off no names but those that wanted freeholds; but to-day, he finds that freeholders were struck off by his own pen-he tells you, my lords, and gentlemen triers, with equal modesty and ingenuity, t!;at he has made a mistake-he returns eighty-one names to the sheriff-ie receires blank summonses, fills what he deems convenient, &c. Gracious heaven! what are the courts of justice? what is trial by jury? what is the country brought to? Were it told in the courts above-were it told in other countries-were it told in Westminster Hall, that such a man was permitted to return nearly one half of the grand panel of the county from oneparticular district,-a district under severe distress,-to which he is agent and on which, with the authority he possesses, he is able to bring great calamity i He ascends the pulpit with the Gospel of benignity and peace-he endeavouls to impress himself and others with its meek and holy spirit:-he descends-throws off the purple-seizes the insurrection act in the one hand, and the whip in the other-flies by night and by day after his game; and, with his heart panting, his breath exhausted, and his belly on the ground in the chase, he turns round, and tells you that his mind is unprejudiced-that his breast is full of softness and humanity."-Doscvn Assizes, 1795.-C. 192 LIFE'OF CURRAN. law, as to remind them of the Christian duties; and even in those cases, where both law and fact were upon his side, and where, under other circumstances, he might have boldly demanded an acquittal, he was in reality labouring to extort a pardon. It was with the same view that he so often made the most impassioned appeals, even to the Bench, when he saw that its political feelings were hostile to. the interests of his client. Thus, upon the trial of Hamilton Rowan, the principal witness for the Crown, having deposed that he had seen Mr. Rowan at a meeting of United Irishmen, consisting of one hundred and fifty persons, and his evidence upon this most material fact having been impeached, the Chief Justice (Lord Clonmel), in his charge to the jury, observed, " One hundred and fifty Volunteers, or United Irishmen, and not one comes forward! Many of them would have been proud to assist him (the traverser). Their silence speaks a thousand times more strongly than any cavilling upon this man's crledit -the silence of such a number is a volume of evidence in support of the prosecution." * Upon a motion for a new trial, Mr. Cur* This passage of Lord Clonmel's charge was omitted, and, no doubt, designedly, in the original edition of Hamilton Rowan's.trial, published in Dublin.-C. Lord Clonmel, for many years Chief Justice of the King's Bench in Ireland, was a man whose mind and form were very coarse. He had risen from a low origin to great wealth and high station, but never looked like a gentleman. His manners were coarse. His appearance was peculiar-his face was the color of the scarlet robe which he wore, as Judge, and literally " flared up " (so rubicund was it) when he got into a passion, which was about once in every twenty minutes. He and Curran did not agree. At the bar, when both were young, they had had several wordy contests, in which Curran succeeded. This was never forgotten by his opponent when a Judge. It is related that on one occasion the noble lord was so pressed both by the argument, the eloquence, and the wit of Mr. Curran, that he lost temper, and called on the sheriffs to be ready to take any one into arrest who would be found so contemptuously presuming to fly into the face of the court. Mr. Curran, perceiving the twittering of a swallow actively in pursuit of flies, in his turn called on the sheriffs to take that swallow into arrest, for it was guilty of contempt, as it had contemptuously presumed tofly in theface of the co&urt. The ridicule of this, and the peals of laughter which ensued, closed the scene. On some contested argument in the Court of King's Bench, Lord Clonmel, who was said to have a stronger dash of the overbearing than of the brave, stood out against Mr. Curran with a brow-beating vehemence, and showed a determination to have things entirely in his own way. He imade repeated but ineffectual efforts to reduce Mr. Curran, or (as the phrase is used) to put him down. Ile, however, withstood all the violence of those attempts, and the SNARL WITH A JUDGE. 193 ran, in commenting upon those expressions, could not refrAin from exclaiming, " I never before heard an intimation from any judge to a jury, that bad evidence, liable to any and every exception, ought to receive a sanction from the silence of the party. With anxiety for the honour and religion of the law, I demand it of you, must not the jury have understood that this silence was evidence to go to them? Is the meaning contained in the expression'a volume of evidence' only an insinuation? I do not know wh ere any man could be safe-I do not know what any man could do to screen himself from prosecution-I know not how he could be secure, even when he was at prayers before the throne of Heaven, that he was not passing that moment of his life, in which he was to re charged. with the commission of some crime to be expiated to society, by the loss of his liberty or of his life-I do not know what shall become of the subject, if the jury are to be told that the silence of a man charged is'a volume of evidence that he is guilty of the crime.' Where is it written? I know there is a place where vulgar phrensy cries out that the public instrument must be drenched in blood-where defence is gagged, and the devoted wretch must perish. But even there the victim of such tyranny is not made to fill, by voluntary silence, the defects of his accusation; for his tongue is tied, and therefore no advantage is taken of him by construction: it cannot be there said that his not speaking is'a volume of evidence' to prove his guilt." After some farther observations, he thus concluded his' arguments: "You are standing on a narrow isthmus, that divides the great ocean of duration-on the one side of the past, on the other of the encounter was upheld with all that passion could supply, or courage hope to extinguish. Mr. Curran looked, and lighted up all the fire of his mighty eye, surveyed his adversary with the most intense and indignant scowl, such as would have pierced through all impediments; while the red and inflamed countenance of the Judge, with the menace and attitude of an overwhelming passion, kindled into a burning blaze. With a firm, calm, and measured tone, Mr. Curran addressed him, and whilst he did so, he seemed armed with the bolt of heaven, ready to hurl destruction on his victim. After some prelude, he concluded his address in these words: "Does your lordship think I am that silly dog to bay that moon-to bay that moon-which I am not able to extinguish?"-M. 9 194 --- LIFE OF CURRAN. future-a ground that, while you yet hear ine, is washed from beneath your feet. Let me remind you, my lords, while your determination is yet in your power-dum versatur adhuc intra penetralia Veste —that on the ocean of the future you must set your judgment afloat; and future ages will assume the same authority which you have assumed; posterity will feel the same emotions which you have felt, when your little hearts have beaten, and your infant eyes have overflowed at reading the sad story of the sufferings of a Russel or a Sydney." All this has been represented as very strange, and even absurd, by those who would not reflect upon the state of the times, and the necessity which it imposed upon the advocate of addressing the passions which he knew to be actuating his hearers, no matter to what order of the community they might belong. CATHOLIC VEMANOIPATION, 195 CHAPTER IX. Catholic Emancipation-Mr. Curran moves an address to the Throne for an inquiry into the state of the poor-Other Parliamentary questions-Mr. Ponsonby's plan of Refo rm rejected-Secession of Mr. Curran and his friends-Orr's trial-Finnerty's trial-Finney's Trial-The informer, James O'Brien. [ON May 4, 1795, a sharp debate took place in the Irish Commons, on the second reading of a Catholic Emancipation BilI, which had been introduced, during the preceding January, under the liberal auspices of Lord Fitzwilliam, the new and liberal Viceroy. But George III. was determined not to admit his Roman Catholic subjects to the enjoyment of civil rights, and the too liberal Viceroy was recalled. The Irish Commons, on the strength of the Emancipation Bill being a fact, had liberally voted largee supplies for carrying on the war then raging between France and England. The money received, the Irish Government threw over the Catholics, and the second reading of the Emancipation Bill was lost-there reing!55 votes against and 84 for it. Mr. Curran supported the measure, and defended the character and conduct of Lord Fitzwilliam.] In May, 1795, Mr. Curran moved an address to the throne upon the distresses of Ireland, the recall of Lord Fitzwilliam, and the misconduct of his Majesty's ministers in their government of Ireland. It wis not expected, by the opposition, that this motion would be carried: their object in bringing it forward was merely to leave a record of their opinions upon the subjects contained in the address.* Mr. Curran prefaced his motion by a long speech, * This address, after a few prefatory-clauses stating the attachment of the Commons to his Majesty's person, and the monarchical form of government, and their late extraordinary supplies for carrying on the present most eventful war, proceeds — That we were the more -induced to- this, from a zeal'for his Majestys service, and an 196 LIFE OF CURRAN. in the course of which he emphatically warned the House of the dangers that impended over the public tranquillity; but upon this, as upon many former occasions, his predictions were disregarded. "I know," said he, "that this is not a time when the passions of the public ought to be inflamed; nor do I mean to inflame them (murmurs from the other side of the Louse). Yes, I speak not to inflame; but I address you in order to allay the fever of the public mind. If I had power to warn you, I would exert that power in order to diminish the public ferment-in order to show tile attachment to Great Britain; but accompanied with an expectation that our extraordinary grants would be justified to our constituents by a reform, under a patriot viceroy, of the various and manifold abuses that had taken place in the administration of the Irish Government; a reformation which we conceived, in the present times, and under iluch an increase of debt and taxes, indispensable, and which we do, therefore, most humbly persist to implore and expect. That, after the supply was granted and the force voted, and whilst the chief governor, possessing the entire confidence of both Houses of Parliament, and the approbation of all the people, was reforming abuses, and putting the country in a state of defence, he was suddenly and prematurely recalled, and our unparalleled efforts for the support of his Majesty answered by the strongest marks of the resentment of his ministers. That, in consequence of such a proceeding, the business of Government was inter. rupted, the defence of the country suspended, the unanimity which had under the then Lord Lieutenant existed converted into just complaint and remonstrance, and the energy, confidence, and zeal of the nation, so loudly called for by his Majesty's ministers, were, by the conduct of those very ministers themselves, materially affected. That these, their late proceedings, aggravated their past system; in complaining of which, we particularly refer to the notorious traffic of honours-to the removal of the troops contrary to the law, and in total disregard of the solemn compact with the nation and safety of the realm-to the criminal conduct of Government respecting the Iri3h army-to the disbursements of sums of money, without account or authority-to the improvident grant of reversions, at the expense of his Majesty's interest, sacrificed, for the emolument of his servants, to the conduct of his Majesty's ministers in both countries, towards his Protestant and Catholic subjects of Ireland, alternately practising on their passions, exciting their hopes, and procuring their disappointment. That, convinced by the benefits which we have received under his Majesty's reign that the grievances of which we complain are as unknown to his Majesty as abhorrent from his paternal and royal disposition. We, his Commons of Ireland, beg leave to lay ourselves at his feet, and, with all humility to his Majesty, to prefer, on our part, and on the part of our constituents, this our just and necessary remonstrance against the conduct of his ministers; and to Implore his Msjesty that he may be graciously pleased to lay his commands upon his minister to second the zeal of his Irish Parliament in his-Majesty's services, by manifesting in future to the people of Ireland due regard and attention. ABUSES AND GRIEVANOES. 197 people that they have more security in your warmth than they can have in their own heat-that the ardour of your honest zeal may be a salutary ventilator to the ferment of your country-rin order that you may take the people out of their own hands, and bring them within your guidance. Trust me, at this momentous crisis, a firm and tempered sensibility of injury would be equally honourable to yourselves and beneficial to the nation: trust me, if, at a time when every little stream is swollen into a torrent, we alone should be found to exhibit a smooth, and listless, and frozen surface, the folly of the people may be tempted to walk across us; and, whether they should, suppose they were only walking upon ice, or treading upon corruption, the rashness of the experiment might be fatal to us all." [IIe said that the abuses and grievances which afflicted Ireland were "the sale of the honours of the peerage; the open and avowed sale, for money, of the peerage, to any man rich and shameless enough to be a purchaser." Such a course, he said, depraved the Commons, profaned the sanctity of the Lords, poisoned the sources of legislation and the fountains of justice, and annihilated the very idea of public honour and public integritybut all this had been done by the government of Lord Westmorland. Next was the depriving Ireland of troops, when the enemy was at the gate, and the breach of the compact to maintain 12,000 soldiers in Ireland, might have been the loss of the island. Then came the wasteful expenditure of public money. There was the abuse of patronage-every office of value, of which a reversion could be granted, having been so disposed of for years and years to come. There was the injustice of neglecting, refusing, delaying relief to the Roman Catholics. Lastly, there were the restraints upon Irish Commerce. This was a full budget. Curran moved the address, Grattan seconded, and 1?onsonby supported it. The Government moved and carried the adjournment of the House, and thus the address was not even put to the vote.] 198 LfE OF CURRAN. In the beginning of the following year, Mr. Curran moved "that a committee should be appointed to inquire into the state of the lower orders of the people," to whose wretchedness he attributed the prevailing discontents; but his motion was, as usual, "suffocated by the question of adjournment." He also distinguished himself by his support of Mr. Grattan's amendments to the addresses in this year, by his exertions on the question of Catholic emancipation, and by his opposition to the suspension of the habeas corpus act. [In December, 1795, Mr. Curran appeared in the Court at Dublin, as counsel for James: Weldon, charged with high treason. His client had been one of the "Dublin Defenders," and was charged not only with associating with traitors unknown, to assist the French, the. public enemies of the Crown, but with associating with the Defenders-to subvert the Protestant religion, and with corrupting one William: Lawler to become a Defender. The chief evidence for the Crown was this Lawler, whose testimony Mr. Curran cut up into tatters, besides giving proof that he was not credible. Weldon was convicted and hanged; though Leary, another prisoner, was acquitted, under precisely similar facts! Some more. particular notice of Mr. Curran's last year of Parliamentary life appears required here. In February, 1736, in the debate on the Indemnity Bill, he supported Grattan's unsuccessful motion that Justice Chamberlain and Baron Smith, the judges who had gone circuit in the disturbed districts, should first be examined, to open the state of the country and the general conduct of the magistrates. In the same month, he spoke in ftav,)ur of free trade between England and Ireland, and strongly opposed the Insurrection Act, which gave magistrates the arbitrary power of transportation, describing it as " a bill for the rich and against the poor," constituting poverty a crilne, and leaving it to the discretion of wealth to apportion toa )unishment. In October, 1796, when the French were preparing ioche's expedition. for the invasion of Ireland, and the Irish Governnient NATIONAL DEF~ENC3. 199 recommended union as a means of strength, Grattan moved that unanimity could best be obtained by enacting such laws as mould secure to all of the King's subjects "the blessings and privileges of the Constitution, without distinction of religion." Mr. Curran was among those who supported this liberal view. His speech on this occasion contained many truths, well put. "Believe me, Sir," he said, "an invader can look for nothing but certain destruction when he is opposed by the wishes and passions.of the people. It is not garrisons, it is not generals, nor armies, upon which we can repose in safety. It is on the union and zeal of the general inhabitants, removing provisions, discovering designs, marring the projects, and hanging on the retreats of an enemy, that baffles and'defeats him more than any regular force can do." In all probability-, this was suggested by the orator's recollection of the manner in which, during the American War of Independence, the troops of Great Britain were discomfited. Mr. Curran was fond of historic studies, and had warmly sympathised with the Americans in their arduous contest for national independence.. Another- passage is worthy of quotation, as illustrative of Mr. Curran's figurative style. Answering the remark that the Irish Catholics had got much, and ought to be content, he said: "Why have they got much? is it from: the Minister? is it from the Parliament which threw its petition over its bar? No, they got it by the great revolution of human affairs, by the. astonishing march of the human mind; a march that has collected too much moment on its advance to be now stopped in its progress. The bark is still afloat, it is freighted with the hopes and liberties of men; she is already under weigh-the rower mnay faint, or the wind may sleep, but rely upon it, she has already acquired an energy of advancement that will support her course, and bring her to her destination; rely upon it, whether much or little remains, it is now vain tog withhold it; rely upon it, you may as well stamp your foot upon the earth, in order to prevent its revolution. You cannot stop it! you will only. remain a silly gnomon upon its sur 200 LIFE OF CURRAN. face to measure the rapidity of rotation, until you are forced round and buried in the shade of that body, whose irresistible course you would endeavour to oppose." The Attorne —General moved that leave be given to bring in a Bill similar to what had been enacted when England was threatened with invasion, authorizing the Irish Executive to take up and detain all persons suspected of treasonable practices. Leave was given, the bill was forthwith presented, read a first and second time that night (Oct. 13, 1796), and ordered to pass into committee the next day. On the motion that it be committed, a small opposition party, headed by Mr. George Ponsonby, resisted the measure. Mr. Curran, commenting on the haste with which it had progressed, said: "At two o'clock in the morning, the House was moved for leave to bring in a Bill to suspend the Habeas Corpus Act; at five minutes past two in the morning, the bill was read a first time and, after grave and mature'deliberation, the bill was ordered to be read, and was accordingly read a second time at ten minutes past two in the morning. Its principle was then fully considered and approved of; and at fifteen minutes after two in the morning, it was laid before a Committee of the whole House!" The division was 137 to 7, and the Habeas Corpus act was suspended accordingly. On October 17th, 1796, in a debate on Grattan's motion ill favour of the admission to seats in Parliament (seconded by George Ponsonby, and strenuously opposed by the Government), Dr. Duigenan, a polemical and political intolerant of the first (mud-and-) water, used violent and offensive language against the Catholics, in whdse communion he had participated in his youth. Mr. Curran replied to him, and said, "He has abused the Catholics, he has abused their ancestors, he has abused the merchants of Ireland, he has abused Mr. Burke, he has abused those who voted for the order of the day." Mr. Curran then described his manner and matter of speaking-" that confusion of history and divinity, and civil law and canon law-that rollicking mixture of RIOCHE'IS EXPLDITION. 201 politics and theology, and antiquity, with which he has overwhelmed the debate; for the havoc and carnage he has made of the population of the last age, and the fury with which he seemed determined to exterminate, and even to devour, the population of this; and which urged him, after tearing and gnawing the characters of the Catholics, to spend the last efforts of his rage, with the most unrelenting ferocity, in actually gnawing the namles." In truth, sir, I felt some surprise, and some regret, when I heard him describe the sceptre of lath, and the tiara of straw, and milnic his bedlamite Emperor and Pope with such refined and happy gesticulation, that he could be prevailed on to quit so congenial a company." Alluding to the declaration that the Catholics must not have Emancipation, because they demanded it with insolence, Mr. Curran said, " Suppose that assertion, false as it is in fact, to be true, is it any argument with a public assefnbly that any incivility of demand can cover the injustice of refusal? How low must that assembly be fallen, which can suggest as an apology for the refusal of an incontestible right, the answer which a bankrupt buck might give to the demand of his tailor-he will not pay the bill, because'the rascal had dared to threaten his honour.'" The motion in favour of Catholic Emancipation was lost by 143 to 19. On January 6, 1797, Mr. Curran strongly joined iii the animadversions of the Opposition on the inactivity of the British navy, when invasion was anticipated, whereby Hoche's expedition was within an ace of success. When the French fleet were in Bantry Bay, not a British line-of-battle ship was on the whole course of the kingdom of Ireland. A few weeks later (February 24th 1 797), Cu-rran supported an-address for the increase of the domestic army of Ireland, especially the yeomanry corps. The Ministerial * Dr. Dulgenan, who used excessive gesticulation, and sometimes lashed himself into buch a rage as to foam at the mouth, had such a peculiar way of barking out the name of Mr. Keogh, one of the Catholic leaders, that Mr. Curran said it was a sort of pronuncia tlry defamation. —M. 9* 202 LIFE OF CURRAN. party resisted the proposition, which was based on. the increasing power of France, the inability or inactivity of England for the defence of Ireland, and the danger of Ireland herself. Mr. Curran mentioned, as a fact, that when the French fleet arrived in IBantry, there were not, in that quarter of the country, including Cork (the second city of Ireland), one thousand men to meet the enemy! In February, 1797, Mr. Curran also spoke on Ponsonby's motion of censure on the Irish Ministry, and on Vandeleur's motion for an Absentee Tax. In March of the same year, he went rather freely, and very forcibly, into the motion of censure for disarming the inhabitants:of Ulster, on the pretext that "daring and horrid outrages " had been: perpetrated in that province. This, in effect, was declaring the inhabitants generally to be guilty of high treason. The Government had obtained a great majority in the Commons, and the motion was defeated. In truth, by this time, they had so distributed places, pensions, peerages, and promises, that they coulct carry or defeat any and every motion in both Houses of Parliament.] His last parliamentary effort was in the debate on Mr. William Brabazon Ponsonby's plan of parliamentary reform,* which included Catholic Emancipation, and was brought forward by the Opposition as a final experiment to save Ireland from the horrors of the impending rebellion. By the late report of the secret committee, it had appeared that extensive associations for treasonable objects existed throughout the country: the Adminlstration considered that force alone should be resorted to-the Opposition were as decided that conciliation, and conciliation alone, would restore tranquillity. The ostensible objects of the conspiracy were reform and Catholic Emancipation: the Administratration admitted that these were merely pretexts, and that revolution was the real though covert design; but they argued- "that the House ought to make a stand, and say that rebellion must be * May 15th, 1797.-'C. REFORM. 203 put down, before the grievances that were made its pretext should be even discussed." To this it was answered by Mr. Ci.rran, "if Reform be only a pretence, and separation be the real objects of the leaders of the conspiracy, confound the leaders by destroying the pretext, and take the followers to yourselves. You say they are one hundred thousand; I firmly believe they are three times the nUtmber; so much the better for you. If these seducers can attach so many followers to rebellion, by the hope of reform through blood, how much more readily will you engage them, not by the promise, but the possession, and without blood." " Reform (he continued) is a necessary change of mildness for coercion: the latter has been-tried, and what is its success? The Convention Bill was passed to punish the meetings at Dungannon afd those of the Catholics: the Government considered the Catholic concessions as defeats that called for vengeance-and cruelly have they avenged them; but did that act, or those which followed, put down those meetings? the contrary was the fact; it most foolishly concealed them. WThen popular discontents are abroad, a wise Government should put them in an hive of glass; you hid them. The associations at first were small the earth seemed to drink it as a rivulet; but it only disappeared for a season: a thousand streams, through the secret windings of the earth, found their way to one source, and swelled its waters; until at last, too mighty to be contained, it burst out a great river, fertilizing by its exundations, or terrifying by its cataracts. This was the effect of your penal code-it swelled sedition into rebellion. Whuat else could be hoped from a system of terrorism? Fear is tl e most transient of all the passions-it is the warning that nature gives for selfpreservation; but when safety is unattainable, the warning must be useless, and nature does not therefore give it. The Administration mistook the quality of penal laws: they were sent out to abolish conventicles; but they did not pass the threshold, they stood sentinels at the gates. You thought that penal laws, like great dogs, would wag their tails to their masters,.end bark only at 20:4 LIFE OF CURRAN. their enemies: you were mistaken; they turn and devour those they were meant to protect, and were harmless where they were intended to destroy. Gentlemen, I see, laugh-I see they affect to be still very ignorant of the nature of fear: this cannot last; neither, while it does, can it be concealed: the feeble glimmering of a oiroed smile is a light that makes the cheek look paler. Trust me, the times are too humanized for such systems of governmenthumanity will not execute them; but humanity will abhor them, and those who wished to rule by such means. We hoped much, and, I doubt not, meant well by those laws; but they have miserably failed us: it is time to try milder methods. You have tried to force the people: but the rage of your penal laws was a storm that only drovethem in groups to shelter. Before it is too late, therefore, try the better force of reason, and conciliate themn by justice and humanity. Neither let us talk of innovation-the progress of nature is no innovation-the increase of people, the growth of the mind, is no innovation, unless the growth of our mind lag behind. If we think otherwise, and consider it an innovation to depart from the folly of our infancy, we should come here in our swaddling clothes; we should not innovate upon the dress more than the understanding of the cradle. "As to the system of peace now proposed, you must take it on its principles; they are simply two-the abolition of religious disabilities, and the representation of the people. I am confident the effects would be every thing to be wished; the present alarming discontent will vanish, the good will be separated from the ill-intentioned;.the friends of mixed government in Ireland are many-every sensible man must see that it gives all the enjoyment of rational liberty, if the people have their due place in the state. This system would make us invincible against a foreign oe domestic enemy; it would make the empire strong at this important crisis; it would restore to us liberty, industry, and peace, which I am satisfie I can never by any other means be restored." SENATORS IN A PET. 205 The counsels of peace and conciliation which Mr. Curran and his friends now proposed to the Parliament were the last whi(ch they had to offer; and finding that they were to be rejected, they resolved to take no farther part in deliberations where their interference was so unavailing. "I agree (said Mr. Curran, in conclusion) that unanimity at this time is indispensable; the house seems pretty unanimous for force; I am sorry for it, for I bode the worst from it: I shall retire from a scene where I can do no good, and where I certainly should disturb that unanimity; I cannot, however, go without a parting entreaty, that men would reflect upon the awful responsibility in which they stand to their country and their conscience, before they set an example to the people of abandoning the constitution and the law, and resorting to the terrible expedient of force." Mr. Grattan, who followed Mr. Curran, concluded his speech by announcing the same intention:-" Your system is perilous indeed. I speak without asperity; I speak without resentment; I speak, perhaps, my delusion, but it is my heartfelt conviction; I speak my apprehension for the immediate state of our liberty, and fot the ultimate state of the empire; I see, or imagine I see, in this syvstem, every thing which is dangerous to both; I hope I am mistaken —at least, I hope I exaggerate; possibly I may: if so, I shall acknowledge my error with more satisfaction than is usual in the acknowledgment of error. I cannot, however, banish from my memory the lesson of the American war, and yet at that time the English Government was at the head of Europe, and was possessed of resources comparatively unbroken. If that lesson has no effect on ministers, surely I can suggest nothing that will. We have offered you our measure-you will reject it: we deprecate yours-you will persevere; having no hopes left to persuade or to dissuade, and having discharged our duty, we shall trouble you no more, and after this day shall not attend the Hlouse of Commons." [The Opposition ceased to attend, and after a few more sittings '206 LIFE OF CURRAN. Parliament was adjourned on July 3, 1797. In Englar d, about the same time, Charles James Fox, leader of " His Majesty's Opposition," finding his party invariably in a minority, declared his intention to forbear prosecuting an useless attendance in Parliament. In 1800, however, Fox resumed his seat, and used his most strenuous opposition as a firiend of Ireland, to the Union. In 1799, Mr. Grattan returned to the Irish Parliament for a short time, to oppose the Union. Mr. Curran's senatorial life closed with his secession in 1797.] A few weeks after the secession of the Opposition, Mr. Grattan addressed a letterfto the citizens of Dublin upon the part of himself and the other members of the minority, to explain their motives in taking that step. This letter, besides being a splendid monument of the writer's genius, is an important historical document, and when confronted with the reports of secret committees and similar official statements, will show what an imperfect idea they convey of the real condition of the timeb. TRIAL OFr MR. PETER FINNERTY. Mr. Curran's next great professional exertion was in the defence of Mr. Finnerty, who was tried in December, 1797, for a libel on the Government and person of the Viceroy (Lord Camden). The subject of the libel was the trial and execution of a person named William Orr, which had taken place a little before. Orr, who had been committed on a charge of high treason, was arraigned on an indictment framed under the Insurrection Act, for administering unlawful oaths, and convicted. A motion in arrest of judgment. was made, in the argument upon which Mr. Curran, who was his leading counsel, is said to have displayed as much legal ability and affecting eloquence as upon any occasion of his life. This argument is so imperfectly reported as to be unworthy of insertion. It contains, however, one striking example of that peculiar idiom PETER FINNERTY'S CASE. 207 in which he discussed the most technical questions; in ( ontending that the act under which his client was tried had expired, he observes: " The mind of the judge is the repository of the law that does exist, not of the law that did exist; nor does the mercy and justice of our law recognize so disgraceful an office as that of a judge becoming a sort of administrator to a dead statute, and collecting the debts of blood that were due to it in its lifetime." Another of his arguments for arresting the judgment was, " that the state had no right to wage a piratical war against the subject under false colours:" —that Orr's offence (supposing the informer who gave evidence against him to have sworn truly) amounted to high treason, and that he should therefore hlave been indicted tinder the constitutional statute relating to that crime, fircm which the accused derive so many privileges of defence. It may be necessary to inform some readers, that when acts of high treason are made merely felony by a particular statute, the persons under trial lose, among other advantages, the benefit of their counsel's address to the jury, to which, had they been indicted for high treason, they would have been entitled.* Upon such occasions, when Mr. Curran, in addressing the Court upon questions of law, happened to let fall any observations upon the general merits of the case, he had to sustain the reproach of " attempting to insinuate a speech to the jury." But all his efforts were unavailing; lis legal objections were overruled by the Bench;' and in answer to what he had addressed to the feelings of the Court, the presiding judge, Lord Yelverton, from whose mind classical associations were never absent, adverted to a passage in the history of the Roman commonwealth, wllere. after the expulsion of the Tarquins, it was attempted by the PIatricians to restore royalty; and the arglment made use of was, " that a government by laws was stern and cruel, inasmuch as laws had neither hearts to feel, nor ears to hear; whereas government by kings was merciful, inasmuch as the sources of humanity and * The law and practice have been altered since this was writtn. —IM. 208 LIFE OF CURRAN. tenderness were open to entreaty."* "For my part," added his Lordship, "I am acting under a government by laws, and am bound to speak the voice of the law, which has neither feeling nor pasSilns.." But this excellent and feeling judge soon showed how little of legal insensibility belonged to his own nature. When he came to pronounce sentence of death upon the prisoner, he was so affected as to be scarcely audible, and the fatal words were no sooner concluded than he burst into tears, and, sinking his head between his hands, continued for many minutes in that attitude of honourable emotion. The prisoner was recommended to the jury for mercy, but, after receiving no less than three respites, was finally executed.t He died protesting his innocence; and though such a declaration be very doubtful evidence of the fact (for who, about to suffer for a political crime, would not prefer to be remembered as a martyr?), still there were, in the case of Orr, some corroborating circumstances which render it a matter of surprise and regret that they should have been disregarded. His previous life and character had been irreproachable: subsequent to his trial, it appeared that the informer, upon whose evidence he had been convicted, had, according to his own confession, perjured himself on a former * Regem hominem esse, a quo impetres ubi jus, ubi injuria opus sit-esse gratim locum, esse beneficio, et irasci et ignoscere posse-inter amicum atque inimicum discrimen nosse. Leges rem surdam, inexorabilem esse, salubriorem melioremque inopi, quam potenti-nihit laxamenti nec venim habere, si modum excesseris.-Tit. Liv. lib. 2.-Lord Yelverton was considered as one of the most accomplished classical scholars of his time. An unfinished translation of Livy (his favourite historian) remains among his papers.-C. [A lawyer pleading before Lord Avonmore, having to oppose some principles urged against him on the authority of Judge Blackstone, treated the works of that great commentator in terms of disrespect; at which Lord Avonmore was so provoked that he instantly burst forth into the following beautiful compliment to that eminent writer: " He first gave to the law the air of science; he found it a skeleton, and clothed it with flesh, colour, and complexion; he embraced the cold statue, and by his touch it grew into life, sense, and beauty. HIis great works survive the vagaries which pass through the crude minds of each giddy innovator, and which every packet imports in the form of a blue paper report."-M.] 1 On October 14, 1797.-M. ~)RR'S TRIAL. 209 occasion, and had been, in other particulars, a person of infamous conduct and reputation; but above all, the circumstances under which the verdict was found against Orr pointed him out, if not as an object constitutionally entitled to mercy, at least as one to wlom it would have been an act of salutary mildness to have extended it. The jury had continued from seven o'clock in the evening till six on the following morning considering their verdict; in the interval, spirituous liquor had been introduced into the jury-room, and intimidation used to such as hesitated to concur with the majority. To these latter facts two of the jury made a solemn affidavit in open court, before the judge who tried the cause. Upon these proceedings, a very severe letter of remonstrance to the Viceroy appeared in the "Press" newspaper, of which Mr. Finnerty was the publisher; and the letter being deemed a libel, the publisher was brought to immediate trial. Mr. Curran's address to the'jury in this case must be considered, if not the finest, at least the most surprising specimen of his oratorical powers. He had had no time for preparation; it was not till a few minutes before the cause commenced that his brief was handed to him. During the progress of the trial he had occasion to speak at unusual length to questions of law thaf arose upon the evidence; so that his speech to the jury could necessarily be no other than a sudden extemporaneous exertion: and it was, perhaps, a secret and not unjustifiable feeling of pride at having so acquitted himself upon such an emergency that inclined his own mind to prefer this to any of his other efforts. The following is his description of the scenes which attended and followed the trial of William Orr: "Let me beg of you for a moment to suppose that any one of you had been the writer of this strong and severe animadversion upon the Lord Lieutenant, and that you had been the witness of that lamentable and never-to-be-forgotten catastrophe; let me 210 LIFE OF CURRAN. suppose that you had known the charge upon which Mr. Orr was apprehended-the charge of objuring that bigotry which had torn and disgraced his country, of pledging himself to restore the peopie to their place in the Constitution, and of binding himself never'to be the betrayer of his fellow-laborers in that enterprise; that you had seen him upon that charge torn fro1m his industry and confined in a gaol; that, through the slow and lilgering' pro gress of twelve tedious months, you Ihad seen him confilled in a dungeon, shut out fiom the common use of air and of his own limbs; that, d(ay after day, you had marked the unhappy5' captive, cheered by no sound but thle cries of his ftamily orx the clanking of his chains; that you had seen himr at last krought to his trial; that you had seen the vile and peljurled informer deposing against his life; that you had seen the drunken, and worn out, and terrifled jury give in a verdict of death; that you had seen the same jury, when their returning sobriety had brought back their reason, prostoate themselves before the humanitv of the ]3ench, and pray that the mercy of tile Crown miOlht save their characters from the reproach of an involuntary crilne, their consciences fiom the torture of eternal self-condemnation, and thleir souls fiom the indelible stain of innocent blood. Let me suppose that you had sben the respite given, and the contrite and honest reconinendation transmitted to that seat wllele mnercy was presumled to dwell: that new and before unheaxrd-of crimes are discovered against the informer; that the rioyal. mercy seems to relent; that a new respite is sent to the prisoner; that time is taken to see' whether mercy could be-extended or not;' that after that period of lingering deliberation had passed, a thllird respite is transmitted; that the unhappy calptive himself feels the cheering hope of being restored to a fatlily that he had adored, to a character that lihe had never stained, and to a country that he had ever loved; that you had seen his wife and his children upon -their knees, giving those tears to gratitude which their locked and firozen hearts had DEFENCE OF FIINNER'TY. 21.1 refused to anguish and despair, and implQringr the blessings of eternal Providence upon his head who had graciously spared the father and restored him to his children: Alas! Nor wife, nor children, no more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home I!' "Often did the weary dove return to the window of his little ark; but the olive leaf was to him no sign that the waters had subsided. No seraph Mercy unbars his dungeon, and leads him forth to light and life; but the minister of Death hurries him to the scene of suffering and of shamne: where, unmoved by the hostile array of artillery and armed men collected together to secure or to insult, or to disturb him, he dies with a solemn declaration of his innocence, and utters his last breath in a prayer for the liberty of his country. "Let me now ask you, if any of you had addressed the public ear upon so foul and monstrous a subject, in what language would you have conveyed the feelings of horror and indignation? Would you have stooped to the meanness of qualified complaint? Would you have checked your feelings to search for courtly and gaudy language? Would you have been mean enough-but I entreat your pardon: I have already told you I do not think meanly of you. Had I thought so meanly of you, I could not suffer my mind to commune with you as it has done: had I thought you that base and servile instrument, attuned by hope and fear into (discord and falsehood, from whose vulgar string no groan of suffering could vibrate, no voice of integrity or honour could speak, let me honestly tell you I should have scorned to fling my hand across it; I should have left it to a fitter minstrel; if I do not, therefore, grossly err in my opinion of you, you could invent no language upon such a subject as this, that must not lag behind the rapidity of your feelings, and that must not disgrace those feelings if it attempted to describe them." 212 LIFE OF CURRAN. The distracted condition of Ireland at this unfortunate period, may be collected from the following description. To the general reader of Mr. Curran's speeches, the frequent recurrence of so painful a theme must diminish their attractions; but it was too intimately connected with his subjects to be omitted; and as has been previously remarked, the scenes which he daily witnessed had so sensible an influence upon the style of his addresses to juries, that some advertence to them here becomes indispensable. "The learned counsel has asserted that the paper which he prosecutes is only part of a system formed *to misrepresent the state of Ireland and the conduct of its government. D)o you not therefore discover that his object is to procure a verdict to sanction the parliaments of both countries in refusing an inquiry into your grievances? Let me ask you then, are you prepared to say, upon your oath, that those measures of coercion which are daily practised, are absolutely necessary, and ought to be continued? It is not upon Finnerty you are sitting in judgment; but you are sitting in judgment upon the lives and liberties of the inhabitants of more than half of Ireland. You are to say that it is a foul proceeding to condemn the Government of Ireland; that is a foul act, founded in foul motives, and originating in falsehood and sedition; that it is an attack upon a government under which the people are prosperous and happy; that justice is administered with inercy; that the statements made in Great Britain are false-are the effusions of party or of discontent; that all is mildness and tranquillity; that there are no burnings-no transportations; that you never travel by the light of conflagrations; that the jails are not crowded month after month, from which prisoners are taken out, not for trial, but for embarkation! These are the questions upon which, I say, you must virtually decide. It is vain that the counsel for the Crown may tell you that I am misrepresenting the case; that I am endeavouring to raise false fears, and to take advantage of your passions; that the question is, whether this paper be a libel or not, and that the circumstances of the country DEFENCE OF FINNERTY. 213 have nothing to do with it. Such assertions must be in vain; the statement of the counsel for the Crown has forced the introduction of those important topics; and I appeal to your own hearts whether the country is misrepresented, and whether the Government is misrepresented. I tell you therefore, gentlemen of the jury, it is not with respect to Mr. Orr or Mr. Finnerty that your verdict is n0v sought; you are called upon, on your oaths, to say that the Government is wise and merciful; the people prosperous and happy; that military law ought to be continued; that the Constitution could not with safety be restored to Ireland; and that the statements of a contrary import by your advocates in either country are libellous and false. I tell you, these are the questions; and I ask you, if you can have the front to give the expected answer in the face of a community who know the country as well as you do. Let me ask you how you could reconcile with such a verdict, the gaols, the tenders, the gibb.ets, the conflagrations, the murders, the proclamations, that we hear of every day in the streets, and see every day in the country? What are the processions of the learned counsel himself, circuit after circuit? Merciful God! what is the state of Ireland, and where shall you find the wretched inhabitant of this land? You may find him perhaps in gaol, the only place of security, I had almost said of ordinary habitation! If you do not find him there, you may see him flying with his family from the flames of his own dwellinglighted to his dungeon by the conflagration of his hovel; or you may find his bones bleaching on the green fields of his country; or you may find him tossing on the surface of the ocean, and mingling his groans with those tempests, less savage than his prosecutors, that drift him to a returnless distance from his family and his home, without charge, or trial or sentence. Is this a foul misrepresentation 8 Or can you, with these facts ringing in your ears, and staring in your face, say, upon your oaths, they do not exist? You are called upon, in defiance of shame, of truth, of honour, to deny the sufferings under which you groan, and to flatter the 214 LIFIE OF CURRAN. prosecution that tramples you under foot. Gentlemen, I am iot accustomed to speak of circumstances of this kind,- and tho igh familiarized as I have been to them, when I come to speak of them, my power fails me, my voice dies within -me; I am not able to call upon you: it is now I ought to have strength; it is now I ought to have energy and voice, but I have none; I am like the unfortunate state of the country, perhaps like you. This is the time in which I ought to speak, if I can, or be dumb forever; in which, if you do not speak as you ought-you ought to be dumb forever." When Mr. Curran came to comment upon that part of the publioation under trial, which stated:that informers were brought forward by the hopes of remuneration-" Is that," said he, "a foul assertion? or will you, upon your oaths, say to the sister country, that there are no such abominable instruments of destruction as informers used in the state prosecutions in Ireland? Let me honestly ask you, what do you feel when in my hearing-when, in the face of this audience, you are called upon to give a verdict that every man of us, and every man of you,:know, by; the testimony of your own eyes, to be utterly and absolutely false? I speak: not now of the public proclamations for informers with a promise of secrecy and extravagant reward. I speak not of those unfortunate wretches, who have been so often transferred from the table to the dock, and from the dock to the. pillory-I speak of what your own eyes have seen, day after day, during the course of. this commission, while you attended this court —the number of horrid miscreants who acknowledged, upon their oaths, that they had come from the seat of governmnent-from the very chambers'of the Castle (where they had been worked upon, by the *fear of death and the hopes of compensation, to give evidence against their fellows) that the mild, the wholesome, and merciffil councils of this Government are holden over those catacombs of liv-ing death, where the wretch, that is burried a man, lies till his heart has time to fester and dissolve, and is then dug up a witness. Is nE PERJUIRED. WITNESS. a-1 this a picture created by an hag-ridden fancy, or is it fact? aI-Ive you not seen bin, after his resurrection from that tomb, mlake his appearance upon your table, the living image of life and death,;ild the supreme arbiter of both? Have you not -narked, wlien he entered, how the stormy wave of the multitude retired at his approach I ave you not seen how the human heart bowed to the awful supremacy of his power, in the undissembled homage of deferential horror? How his glance, like the lightning of Heaven, seemed to rive the body of the accused, and mark it for the grave, while his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe and death-a death which no innocence can escape, no art elude, no force resist, no antidote prevent? There was.an antidote-a juror's oath! But even that adamantine chain, which bound the inte grity of man to the throne of eternal justice, is solved and molten in the breath which issues from the mouth of the informer. Con science swings from her moorings; the appalled and affrighted juror speaks what his soul abhors, and consults his own safety in the surrender of the victim — -et quse sibi quisque timebat Unius in miseri exitium conversa tulere. Informers are worshipped in the temple of justice, even as the devil has been worshipped' by Pagans and savages —even so in this wicked country, is the informer an object of judicial idolatry -even so is he soothed by the music of human groans-even sc is he placated and incensed by the fumes and by the blood of human sacrifices." It is some relief to turn from these descriptions (the truth of which any who may doubt it, will find authenticated by the historian), to the attestation which the advocate bore (and which he was always ready to bear) to the honourable and dignified denmeanour of a presiding judge.* "You are upon a great forward * The Hon. William Downes.-C. [Downes was a dull and prosy man of great bulk, with an immense face terminating in a'great double chin, like a gigantic lecwlap, —urrln saih] 216 LIFE OF CURRAN. ground, with the people at your back, and the Government in your front. You have neither the disadvantages nor the excuses of juries a century ago. No, thank God! never was there a stronger characteristic distinction between those times, upon which no man can reflect without horror, and the present. You have seen this trial conducted with mildness and patience by the court. We have now no Jefferies, with scurvy and vulgar conceits, to browbeat the prisoner and perplex his counsel. Such has been the improvement of manners, and so calm the confidence of integrity, that during the defence of accused persons, the judges sit quietly, and show themselves worthy of their situation, by bearing, with a mild and merciful patience, the little extravagancies of the bar, as you should bear with the little extravagancies of the press. Let me then turn your eyes to that pattern of mildness in the bench. The press is your advocate; bear with its excess, bear with everything but its bad intention. If it comes as a villanous slanderer, treat it as such; but if it endeavour to to raise the honour and glory of your country, remember that you reduce its power to a nonentity, if you stop its animadversions upon public measures. You should not check the efforts of genius, nor damp the ardour of patriotism. In vain will you desire the bird to soar, if you meanly or madly steal from it its plumage. Beware lest, under the pretence of bearing down the licentiousness of the press, you extinguish it altogether. Beware how you rival the venal ferocity of those miscreants, who rob a printer of the means of bread, and claim from deluded royaltv the reward of integrity and allegiance."* "' The most appropriate reply I ever made in my life was to Bushe. It is rather long and,somewhat laboured, but if you will bear with me, I will repeat it all in less than half all hour, by a stop watch.'My Lord chief justice Downes,' says Bushe to me one day, with that large plausible eye, glittering in that kind of light which reveals to a shrewd observer that he is quite sure he hat you,' my Lord chief justice Downes is beyond all comparison, the wittiest companion I have ever known or heard of.' I looked into B.'s eye, and said uon! It required all hi8 own oil to keep smooth the surface of that face."-M. * The jury found a verdict a-gainst the traverser. The above extracts are taken from DEAITCOE OF: FINNERTY. 21 TRIAL OF PAT-ICK FINNEY. Mr. Curran's defence of Patrick Finney (who was brought to trial on January 16th, 1798, on a charge of high treason), if not the most eloquent, was at least the most successful of his efforts at the bar. This may be also considered as the most important cause that he ever conducted, as far as the number of his clients Xcould render it so; for in addition to the prisoner at the bar, he was virtually defending fifteen others, against whom there existed the same charge, and the same proof, and whose fates would have immediately followed had the evidence against Finney prevailed. The principal witness for the Crown in this case was an informer, named James O'Brien, a person whom his testimony upon this trial, and his subsequent crimes, have rendered notorious in Ireland. The infamy of this man's previous life and morals, and improbability and inconsistencies of his story, were so satisfactorily proved to the jury, that, making an effort of firmness and humanity very unusual in those days, they acquitted Finney; and, at the next sitting of the court, the fifteen other prisoners were in consequence discharged from their indictments. [On taking the oath of allegiance, and filing recognizances for good behaviour.] In speaking of Finney's acquittal, it would be an act of injustice to attribute it to the ability of Mr. Curran alone. He was assisted, as he was upon so many other occasions of emergency, by Mr. M'Nally,* a gentleman in whom the client has always found a a fuller report of Mr. Curran's speech upon this occasion than that which is to be found in the published collection. —a. [Finnerty was sentenced to two years' imprisonment, to stand in the pillory for an hour, to pay a fine of ~20, and to give security for his future good behaviour. He finally became a member of the newspaper press in London, and suffered imprisonment, in that capacity, for the publication of. seditious libels.]-M. * Leonard M'Nally, Esq., for many years an eminent Irish barrister, and long since known to the English public as the author of Robin Hood, and other successful dramatic pieces, the productions of his earlier days. Among many endearing traits in this gentleman's private character, his devoted attachment to Mr. Curran's person and fame, and, since his death, to the interests of his memory, has been conspicuous. The writer of this cannot advert to the ardour and tenderness with which he cherishes the latter, without emotions of tVie mlost lively and respectful gratitude. To Mr. M5i'Na!ly hle lshas to express tO 218 LIFE OF CURRAN. zealous, intrepid advocate, and in whom Mr. Curran, from his youth to his latest hour, possessed a most affectionate, unshaken, and disinterested friend. An instance of Mr. Curran's confidence in the talents of his colleague occurred upon this trial; the circumstance, too, may not be without interest, as an example cf the accidents which influence the most important questions. The only mode of saving their client was by imnpeaching the credit of O'Brien. It appeared in their instructions that they hadsome, though not unexceptionable, evidence of his having extorted money, by assuming the character of a revenue officer. Some extracts from the cross-examination of this witness shall be inserted as too singular, on many accounts, to be omitted. It should be observed that Mr. Curran, upon this occasion, departed in some measure from his ordinary method of confounding the perjurer. Instead of resorting to menace or ridicule, he began by affecting a tone of respect, and even submission; and, by thus en couraging O'Brien's insolence, threw him off his guard, and led him on more completely to develope his own character to the jury:James O'Brien cross-examined by Mr. Curraan Q. Pray, Mr. O'Brien, whence came you? A. Speak in a way I will understand you. Q. Do you not understand me? A. Whence? I am here. Do you mean the place I came from? Q. By your oath, do you not understand it many obligations for the zeal with which he has assisted in procuring and supplying materials for the present work. The introduction of these private feelings is not entirely out of place-it can never be out of place to record an example of stedfastness isn friendship. For three and forty years Mr. M'Nally was the friend of the subject of thesei p)ages; and during that long period, uninfluenced by any obligation, more than once, at his own personal risk in repelling the public calamities which Mr. Curran's political conduct had provoked, he performed the duties of the relation with the most uncompromising and romantic fidelity. To state this is a debt of justice to the dead: the survivor has an ampler reward than any passing tribute of this sort can confer, in the recollection that during their long intercourse not even an unkind look ever passed between them.-C. Leonard M'Nally died on the 15th of February, 1820. —A. JEMMY O'BRIEN. 219 A. I partly censure it now. Q. Now that you partly censure the question, answer it. Where did you come from? A. From the Castle. Q. Do you live there? A. I do while I am there. Q. You are welcome, sir, to practice your wit upon me. Where did you live before you came to Dublin? A. In the Queen's county. Q. What way of life were you engaged in before you came to Dublin? A. I had a farm of land which my father left me; and I let it, and afterwards sold it, and came to Dublin to follow business I learned before my father's'death. I served'four years to Mr. Latouche of Marley. Q. To what business? A. A gardener. Q. Were you an excise officer? A. No. Q. Nor ever acted as one? A. I don't doubt but I may have gone of messages for one Q, Who was that? A. A man of the name of Fitzpatrick. Q. He is an excise officer? A. So I understand. Q. What messages did you go for him? A. For money when he was lying on a sick bed. Q. To whom? A. To several of the people in his walk. Q. But you never pretended to be an officer yourself? A. As I have been walking with him, and had clean clothes on me, he might have said to the persons he met that I was an excise officer; Q. But did you never pretend to be an officer? 220 LIVt, OF CiURRAN. A. I never did pretend to be an officer.:. Did you ever pass yourself for a revenue officer? A. I answered that before. Q. I do not want to give you any unnecessary trouble, sir; treat me with the same respect I shall treat you.: I- ask you again, did you ever pass yourself for a revenue officer? A. Never, barring when I was in drink, and.the like. Q. Then, when you have been drunk, you have passed as a revenue officer? A. I do not know what I have done when I was drunk. Q. Did you at any time, drunk or sober, pass yourself as a revenue officer? A. Never, when sober. Q. Did you, drunk or sober - A. I cannot say what I did when I.~s drunk. Q. Can you form a belief-I ask you upon your oath-you are upon a solemn occasion-Did you pass yourself for a revenue officer? A. I cannot say what happened to me when I was drunk. Q. What! Do you say you might have done it when: you were drunk? A. I cannot recollect what passed in my drink. Q. Are you in the habit -of being drunk? A. Not now; but some time back I was. Q. Very fond of drink? A. Very fond of drink. Q. Do you remember to whom you passed yourself for a revenue. officer 8 A. I do not. Q. Do you know the man who keeps the -Red Cow, of the name of Cavanagh? A. Where does he live, Q Do you not know yourself? A. There is one Red Cow above the Fox and Geese. JELMY O'BRrIE. 221 Q. Did you ever pass yourself as a revenuie offier-there'? A. I never was there but with Fitzpatrick; and one day there had been a scuffle, and he abused Fitzpatrick and threatened him; I drank some whiskey there, and paid for it, and went to Fittpatrick, and told him,:and I sunmoned Cavanagh... Q. For selling spirits without licence? A. I did, and-compromised the buisiiiess. Q. By taking money and not prosecuting him n A. Yes. Q. Did you put money in your own pocket by that? A. I did. Q. But you swear you never passed yourself for a revelnie-officer? A. Barring when I a:'as drunk. Q. Were you drunk when you summoned Cav anagh? A. No. - - Q. When you did not Prosecute him A. No. Q. When you put his money into your pocket?. A. No. Q. Do you know a man of the name of Patrick Lamb? A. I do not; but if you briightin my'memory, I may recolleot. Q. I)id you ever tell any man you were a supernumerary, and that your walk was Ratlfailrnham and Tallaght? A. I never did, except when I was drunk; but I -iever did anything but what was honest when I was: sober. - Q. Do you believe you did say it? A. I do not know what I migrht have said when I wtas drunk. You know when a man is walking with an exciseman, he gets a glass at every house. Mr. Curran.-I know no such t'hing, never having walked with an exciseman. Witness.-Then, you may know it. Q. Do you know any man passing by tho name, or called Patrick larmab? 222 LIFE OF CURRAN. A. Not that I recollect, upon my word. Q. Upon your oath? A. I do not recollect: I mean to tell everything against myself as against any other. Q. Do you know a person of the name of Margaret Moore? A. Where does she live? Is she married? Q. She lives near Stradbally. Do you know her? A. I know her well-I thought it might be another. I was courting a woman of that name before my marriage. Q. QDid you come to Dublin before her or after. A. I was in I)ublin before I knew her. Q. Did you get a decree against her? A. I did get a summons for money she owed me. Q. Were you taken to the Court of Conscience by her? A. No. (Contradicted by the evidence on the defence.) Q. When you met IIyland, were you an United Irishman? A. Always united to every honest man. Q. Were you an United Irishman? A. Never sworn. Q. Were you in any manner an United Irishman before that day? A. Never sworn in before that day. Q. Were you in any manner? A. Do n't I tell you that I was united to every honest man? Q. Do ~you believe you are answering my question? A. I do. Q. Were you ever in any society of United Irishmen before that day? A. I do not at all know but I may, but without my knowledge: they might be in the next box to me, or in the end of the seat with me, and I not know them. Q. Were you ever in a society of United Irishmen but that day? JErMY O'BRIEN. 223 A. I was since. Q. Were you ever of their meetings, or did you know anything of their business before that day? A. No; but I have heard of the Defenders' business. Q. Were you of their society? A. No; but when they camne to my father's house, I went to Admiral Cosby's and kept guard there, and threatened to shoot any of them that would come; one Connelly told me I was to be murdered for this expression. Q. Hyland made signs to you in the street. A. He did. Q. Did you answer them? A. No. Q. Why did you not 8 A. Because I did not know how. Q. Then, is your evidence this-that you went into the house in order to save your life? A. I was told that I might lose my life before I went half a street, if I did not. Q. Then, it was from the fear of being murdered before you -should go half a street, that you went in' to be an Unitbd Irishman? A. You have often heard of men being murdered in the business. Q. Do you believe that? A. I do: it is common through the country; I have read the proclamations upon it, and you may have done so too. Q. How soon, after you were sworn, did you see the magistrate? A. I was sworn upon the 25th, and upon the 28th I was brought to Lord Portarlington; and in the interval of the two days, Hyland was with me and dined with me. Q. Why did you not gc the next day? A. Because I did not get clear of them, and they might murder me. 224 LIFE' OF CURRAN. Q. Where did you sleep the first night after? A. At my own place. I was very full-very drunk. Q. Did either of them sleep there? A. No. Q. Where did you live? A. In Keven street, among some friends good to the same cause. Q. WVhere did you see Hyland the next day? A. He came to me next morning before I was out of bed,- and stayed all day, and dined: we drank full in the evening. Q. What became of you the next day? A. Hyland came early again, and stayed all day. I was after getting two guineas from my brother. I was determined to see it out-to know their conspiracies after I was sworn. Q. Then, you meant to give evidence? A. I never went to a meeting that I did not give an account of it. e * e. *. * Q. Do you know Charles Clarke, of Blue Bell? A. I have heard of such a man. Q. You do not know him? A. I do: I do not mean to tell a lie. Q. You did not know him at first? A. There are many men of the name of Clarke; I did not know but it might be some other. It did not immediately come into my memory. Q. You thought it might be some other Clarke? A. There is a Clarke came in to me yesterday. Q. Did you ever get money from Clarke, of Blue Bell, as an excise officer 8 A. I got 3s. 3d. from him not to tell Fitzpatrick: he did not know me, and I bought spirits there; and seeing me walk with an exciseman, he was afraid I would tell of him,.and he gave me 3s. 3d. JEMMY O'BRIEIN. 2Q5 Q. And you put it in your pocket? A. To be sure. Q. Did you pass youtself as a revenue officer upon him 8 A. No. Q. You swear that. A. I do. Q. You know a man of the name of Edward Purcell? A. That is the man that led me into everything. He has figured among United Irishmen. He got about 240 of their money, and went off. He has been wrote to several times. Q. How came you to know him? A. Through the friendship of Fitzpatrick. IHe had Fitzpatrick's wife, as a body might say, having another man's wife. Q. He made you acquainted? A. I saw him there, and Fitzpatrick well contented. Q. Did you ever give-him a recipe? A. I did. Q. Was it for money 8 A. No. Q. What was it:?. A. It was partly an order, where Hyland, he, and I, hoped to be together. It was a pass-word I gave him to go to Hyland to buy light gold that I knew was going to the country. Q. Did you ever give him any other recipe? A.: I do not know but I might: we had many dealings., Q. Had you many dealings in recipes? A. In recipes? Q. I mean recipes to do a thing; as, to make a pudding, &c. Did you give him recipes of that nature? A. I do not know but I might give him recipes to do a great number of things. Q. To do a great number of things? What are they? A. Tell me the smallest hint, and I will tell the truth. 10* 226 LIFE OF CURRAN. Q. Upon that engagement, I will tell you. Did you ever give him a recipe to turn silver into gold, or copper into silver? A. Yes; for turning copper into silver. Q. You have kept your word? A. I said I would tell everything against myself. Q. Do you consider that against yourself? A. I tell you the truth: I gave him a recipe for making copper money like silver money. Q. What did you give it him for? Did he make use of it? WVas it to protect his copper from being changed that you did it? A. He was very officious to make things in a light easy way, without much trouble, to make his bread light: but I did it more in fun than profit. Q. You did not care how much coin he made by it? A. I did n'ot care how much coin he made by it: he might put it upon the market cross. Q. Do you say you do not care how many copper shillings he made? A. I did not care whether he made use of it or not. Q. Upon your solemn oath, you say that you did not care how many base shillings he made in consequence of the recipe you gave him? A. I did not care how many he told of it,, or what he did with it. Q. Had you never seen it tried? A. No, I never saw the recipe I gave him tried; but I saw others tried. Q. For making copper look like silver? A. To be sure. Q. Do you recollect whether you gave him half-a-crown, upon which that recipe was tried? A. I never saw it tried; but I gave him a bad half-crown. I did not give it him in payment: I did it more to humbug him than anything else. it * * * * AN ARTFUL DODGE. 2 7 Q. Do you know Mr. Roberts? A.. What Mr. Roberts? Q. Mr. Arthur Roberts of Stradbally I A. I do. Q. Did you ever talk to any person about his giving a character of you A. He could not give a bad character of me. Q. Did you ever tell any person about his giving you a character? A. I say now, in the hearing of the court and jury, that I heard of his being summoned against me; and, unless he would forswear himself, he could not give me a bad character. Q. Did you ever say you would do anything against him? A. I said I would settle him; but do you know how? There -was a matter about an auction that I would tell of him. Q. Had you a weapon in your hand at the time. A. I believe I had a sword. Q. And a pistol? A. Yes. Q. And you had them in your hand at the time you made the declaration? A. I knew he was a government man; and I would not do any thing to him in the way of assassination. While Mr. Curran was cross-examining O'Brien upon the point of his assuming the character of a revenue officer, the prisoners agent accidentally heard, from some of the by-standers, that there was a man residing at the distance of a few miles from Dublii, whose testimony would place beyond a doubt that O'Brien was perjuring himself in the answers that he returned. A chaise was immediately despatched, to bring up this person; and, in the interval, it was proposed by Mr. Curran, that he, who, as senior, was to have commenced the prisoner's defence, should reserve himself for the speech to evidence, and that his colleague should state the 228 LIFE OF CURBRAN. case, and continue speaking as long as he could find a: syllable to say, so as to give time to the chaise to return before the trial should be over. The latter, in. whose character there was as little of mental as of personal timidity, accepted the proposal without hesitation, and for once belying the maxim that "brevity is the soul of wit," produced an oration so skilfully voluminous, that, by the time it was concluded, which was not until his physical strength was utterly exhausted, the evening was so far advanced, that the Court readily consented to a temporary adjournment, for, the purpose of refreshment; and before it resumed its sitting, the material witness for the prisoner had arrived. * - For this important service rendered to their cause, Mr. Curran, in his address to the jury, paid his colleague a tribute, to which, as a man and an advocate, he was so well entitled. When, in the commencement of his speech, he alluded to the statement of his friend, and expressed " his reluctance to repeat any part of it, for fear of weakening it," he turned round to him, threw his arn affectionately over his shoulder, and, with that pathetic fervour of accent so peculiarly his own, addressed him thus: "My old and excellent friend, I have long known and respected the honesty of your heart, but never, until this occasion, was I acquainted with the extent of your abilities. I am not in the habit of paying compliments where they are undeserved." Tears fell froml Mr. Curran as he hung over his friend, and pronounced these few and simple words; and, however unimposing they may appear -i the repetition, it certainly-was not the part of his defence of Finnerty that touched the jury the least. His speech in this case (particularly in the imperfect report of it that has. appeared) does not contain many passages calculated to delight in the closet. It is chiefly occupied in developing the atrocities of the detestable O'Brien; and this object he accom* Thomas Davis, who edited the last collection of Culran's speeches, possessed Leonard McNally's own copy (a gift from Curran himself) and left a memorandum to the effect that he spoke for three hours and a half.-M. A PERJURED WITNESS. 229 plished with signal success. That wretch, who had,, in the early part of the trial, comnported himself with so much triumphant insolence, was for a moment appalled by Mr. Curran's description of his- villanies, and by the indignant fury of his glances. He was obseirved:palpably shrinking before the latter, and taking shelter in'ithe crowd which thronged:the Court. The advocate lid not fail to take advantage of such a circumstance. "What was the evidence of the innocent, unlettered, poor farmer Cavanagh; pursuing the even tenor of his way in, the paths of honest industry, he is in the act of fulfilling the decree of his Maker-he is earning his bread by- the sweat of his brow, when this villain, less pure than the arch-fiend who brought this sentence of laborious action on mankind, enters the habitation of peace and honest industry; and, not content With dipping. his tongue in:perjury, robs the poor man of two guineas.:Where is O'Brien. now - Do you wonder that he is afraid of my eye? — that he has buried himnself in the crowd i-that he crept under the shade of the multitude when this witness would have disentangled his evidence 2 Do you not feel -that he was appalled with horror, by that more piercing and penetrating eye that looks upon him: and upon me, and upon us all? At this moment even the bold and daring villany of O'Brien stood abashed; he saw the eye of i-eaven in that of an innocent and injured man; perhaps the; feeling was consummated by a glance from -:the dock —his heart bore testimony to his guilt, and he fled for the same; Do you know him, gentlemen of the jury?-Are you acquainted with Jamnes O'Brien.? If youi are, let him come forward from the crowd where he has hid himself, and claim you by a look."; The religious character of Mr. Curran's addresses to juries, during these convulsed times, has been already adverted to; of this- the conclusion of his defence of Finney affords a striking example:"This is the great experiment of the informers of Ireland, to ascertain how far they can carry on a traffic in humnan blood. 230 LIFE OF CURRAN. This cannibal informer, this demon, O'Brien, greedy after human gore, has fifteen other victims in reserve, if from your verdict he receives the unhappy man at the bar-fifteen more of your fellowcitizens are now in gaol, depending on the fate of the unfortunate prisoner, and on the same blasted and perjured evidence of O'Brien. Be you then their saviours; let your verdict snatch them from his ravening maw, and interpose between yourselves and endless remorse. The character of the prisoner has been given. Am I not warranted in saying that I am now defending an innocent fellow-subject on the grounds of eternal justice and immutable law? and on that eternal law I do call upon you to acquit my client. I call upon you for your justice! Great is the reward and sweet the recollection in the hour of trial, and in the day of dissolution, when the casualties of life are pressing close upon the heart, or when in the agonies of death you look back to the justifiable and honourable transactions of your life. At the awful foot of eternal justice, I do therefore invite you to acquit my client; and may God of his infinite mercy grant you a more lasting reward than that perishable crown we read of, which the ancients placed on the brow of him who saved in battle the life of a fellow-citizen? In the name of public justice I do implore you to interpose between the peljurer and his intended victim; and if ever you are assailed by the hand of the informer, may vyou find an all-powerful refuge in the example which, as jurors, you shall set this day to those that might be called to pass upon your lives, that of repelling, at the human tribunal, the intended effects of lhireling perjury and premeditated murder. And if it should be the fate of any of you to coint the tedious moments of captivity, in sorrow and pain, pining in the damps and gloom of a dungeon, while the wicked one is going about at large, seeking whom he may devour, recollect that there is another more awful tribunal than any upon earth, which we must all approach, and before which the best of us will have occasion to look back to what little good we may have done on this side the grave. In that awful RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE. 231 trial-oh! may your verdict this day assure your hopes, and give you strength and consolation, in the presence of an adjudging God. Earnestly do I pray that the author of eternal justice may recordthe innocent deed you shall have done, and give to you the full benefit of your claims to an eternal reward, a requital in mercy upon your souls." The fate of O'Brien is almost a necessary sequel to the trial of Finney. Mr. Curran, whom long observation in the exercise of ],is profession had familiarized to every gradation of atrocity, declared at the time, that, much as he had seen of crime, he had never met with such intense, unmitigated villany, as the conduct and countenance of this ruffian manifested; and he did not hesitate to predict, that some act of guilt would shorten his career. Two years after, O'Brien was tried for murder,* and by a kind of retributive justice, the two counsel who had rescued Finney were appointed to conduct the prosecution. Mr. Curran's speech in O'Brien's case is not distinguished by much eloquence; but it possesses one quality, infinitely more honourable to him than any display of talent could have been. It is full of moderation, resembling as much the charge of a judge as the statement of a prosecutor, and contains no vindictive allusion to the previous crimes of the prisoner. This the following extract will show: "The present trial is considered abroad as of some expectation. I am very well aware that when a judicial inquiry becomes the topic of public and general conversation, every conversation is in itself a little trial of the fact. The voice of public fame, the falsest witness that ever was sworn or unsworn, is always ready to bear testimony to the prejudice of an individual. The mind becomes heated, and it can scarcely be expected, even ini a jury-box, * An assemblage of persons of the lower orders having taken place in the suburbs of Dublin, for the purpose of recreation, the officers of the police, accompanied by O'Brien, proceeded to disperse them. The multitude tied, and in the pursuit one of them (named H.oey) was murdered by O'Brien.-C. 232 LIFE OF CURRAN. to find it cool, and reflecting, and uninterested. There-are two tribunals to which every man must be amenable; the one a municipal tribunal, the other the great, and general, and despotic triblnal of public reputation. - If the jury have any reason to suppose that any manl who comes before them has been-already tried by public fame, and condemned, I beg to remind them: of the solemn duty that justice imposes~ on them; too turn their eyes away from the recollection that any sentence of that sort of cotdetlnation has been pronounced by the Voice of public:reputation; and if they think that his character has sunk- under such a sentence, I remind the jury, that the infamy of such a condemnation is enough without their taking it into their consideration. It -is the duty of the jury to leave the decrees of that' coulrt to, be exeCuted by its own authority, for they have no right to pass sentence of condemnation upon any -man, because that ill-judging court may have passed sentence on his character. They ought to recollect, that the evidence given:before that court was unsworn, and therefore they are bound to consider the evidence before'them naked and simple, as if they had never heard the name of the main they. are to try, and the sentence of condemnation that publie-fame had pronounced upon his character. There is but one point of view in which public character ought to be taken; that is where there is doubt. In such a case general good character ought to have great weight, and go towards the acquittal of the accused; but should it so.:happen that general bad character should be thrown into the seale, it ought not to have one twentieth part the wKeight that good character should have.. " The juTly, I ama satisfied, will deliberately and cautiously weigh the evidence to be produced;: they must be perfectly satisfied in their minds of the guilt of the prisoner. They must feel an irresistible and coercive force acting on them, from the weight of the evidence, before, by their verdict, they pronounce that melancholy sentence which would remove a murderer from the face of the eartli." JEMMY O'BRIEN. 233 O'Brien was o>nvicted and executed. The populace of most countries are too disposed to regard the death of the greatest criminals with sympathy and regret; but so predominant were the feelings of terror and detestation which O'Brien's character had excited, that his execution was accompanied by shouts of the most unusual and horrid exultation. Before dismissing the subject of this wretched man, one observation should be made, of which the omission might seemi to imply a reproach upon the conduct of the prosecutors in Finney's case. It may occur, that the information of such a person should not have gained a moment's attention, still less have endangered the lives of so many subjects. It is, therefore, only just to add, that the real character of O'Brien was unknown to the officers of the Crown, until it became developed in the progress of the trial. The Attorney-General, who conducted that prosecution, was the late Lord Kilwarden, a man the most reverse of sanguinary, and who, in those violent times, was conspicuous for correcting the sternness of his official duties by the tenderness of his owni amiable nature. His expiring sentiments had been the maxim of his life: " Let no man perish but by- the just sentence of the law." 234 LIFE. OF CURRAN. CHAPTER X. Rebellion of 1795-Its causes-Unpopular system of Government-Influence of the French Revolution-Increased intelligence in Ireland-Reform Societies-United Irishmen-Their views and proceedings-Apply for aid to France-Anecdote of Theobald Wolfe Tone-Numbers of the United Irishmen —Condition of the peasantry and conduct of the aristocracy-Mleasures of the Government-Public alarm-General insurrection. THE order of this work has now brought us to the year 1798 -the year'98!-a sound that is still so full of terrible associations to every Irishman's imagination. During the agitated period which followed the transactions of 1782, Ireland had seen the newly-acquired spirit of her people, inflamed by disappointment, by suffering, and by ignorance, discharging itself in bursts of individual or local turbulence, which were not much felt beyond the particular persons, or the immediate spot. But the hour, of which tliese were the prophetic signs, and of which so many warning and unheeded voices foretold the approach, at length arrived, bringing with it scenes of civil strife that struck dismay into.every fibre of the community, sending thousands to the grave, thousands into exile, and involving many a virtuous and respected family in calamity and shame. In adverting to the events of this disastrous era, it would be an easy task to recapitulate its horrors, or, according to the once popular method, to rail at the memory of its victims; but it is time for invective and resentment to cease; or, if such a feeling will irresistibly intrude, it is time at least to control and suppress it. Fifty years have now passed over the heads or the graves of the parties to that melancholy conflict, and their children ma) now see prospects of prosperity opening upon their country, not perhaps of the kind, or to the extent to which in her more ambitious days she looked, but assuredly a more rational description CAUSES OF REBELLION.:235 than could have been attained by violence; and such as, when realized, as they promise soon to be, will compensate for past reverses, or at all events console. At such a moiment, in approaching this fatal year, we may dismiss every sentiment of personal aspe-rity, or posthumous reproach; without wishing to disturb the remorse of those upon either side who may be repenting, or to revive the anguish of the many that have suffered, we may now contemplate it as the period of an awful historical event; and allude to the mutual passions and mistakes of those who acted or perished in it, with the forbearance that should not be refused to the unfortunate and the dead. It has been seen, in the preceding pages, that the system by which Ireland was governed had excited general dissatisfaction, and that, in the year 1789, several of the most able and distinguished persons in the Irish Parliament formed themselves into a body, for the avowed design of opposing the measures of the Administration, and of conferring upon their country, if their exertions could enable them, all the practical benefits of a free constitution. While they were scarcely yet engaged in this arduous struggle, the French Revolution burst upon the world-not, as it has since been witnessed, presenting images of blood and disorder, but coming as the messenger of harmony and freedom to the afflicted nations. This character of peace and innocence it did not long retain, or was not allowed to retain; but, in the progress of its resistless career, its crimes seemed for a while almost justified by the grandeur of their results, and by the imposing principles which they were committed to establish. It soon appeared how popular talent, combined with popular force, could level all the old decrepit opinions against which they had confederated, and Europe was fixed with mingled wonder and dismay upon the awful spectacle of a self-emancipated people seated upon the throne, from which they had hurled the descendant of their former idols as an hereditary usurper. The effects of this great event, and of the doctrines by which 236 LIFE OF CURRAN. it was defended, were immense. Every day some long-respected maxim was tried and condenined, and a. treatise sent forth: to justify the decision. The passions were excited by addressing the reason-by bold and nakled appeals to the primitive and undeniable principles of human rights, without- allowing for the number less accidents: of human condition by which those rights must inevitably be modified and restrained.: Philosophy no longer remained to meditate in the shade; she was now to be seen directing the movements of the camp, or marching at the head of triuumphal processions, or presiding at: civic feasts and regenerating clubs. In all this there was absurdity; but there was enthusiasm. The enthusiasm spread with contagious fury. Every nation of Europe, every petty state became animated by a new-born vigour and unaccustomed pretensions; and, as if awaking from a long slumber, imagined that they had discovered in the old social bonds the shackles that enslaved them. "The democratic principal in Europe was getting on and on like a mist at the heels of the countryman, small at first and lowly, but soon ascending to the hills, and overcasting the hemisphere."* -This' principle made its way to England, where the better genius of the constitution prevailed against its allurements: it passed on: to Ireland, where it was welcomed with open arms by a people who had been long since ripe'for every desperate experiment. During the twenty years which preceded the French Revolution, the progress of intelligence in Ireland had been unprecedented; a * Mr. Grattan's Letter to the Citizens of Dublin. The readers of Milton will not fail to recognise this image, and to observe the use which men of genius can make of their predecessors. All in bright array The cherubim descended-on the ground Gliding meteorous, as evening mist Risen from a river o'er the marish glides, And gathers ground fast at the laborer's heels Homeward returning. Paradise Lost, BooX xii. REVOLUTION. 23 7 circurmstance which is to be in part attributed to the general diffusion of knowledge at the same period throughout the European community, but.still more to the extraordinary excitement which her own domestic. struggle had given to the Irish mind. In Ireland. almost the whole of this accession of intellect was expended upon political inquiries, the most natural subjects of investigation in a country whose actual condition was so far below her most obvious claims; and this peculiar attention to local politics seems to have been the reason that her contributions to general science and literature have not been commensurate with the genius and increased acquirements of her people. It.has already been shown how much of this new energy was exerted upon the Parliamen: for.the reformation of the old penal system, which it was evider: the nation had determined no:longer to endure; but the Parliament was inexorable; and, by thus. unnaturally opposing, instead of -conducting, and sometimes indulging, -sometimes controlling the public sentiment, left it at the mercy of all whose resentment or ambition might induce them to take advantage of its exasperation. Of such there were many in. Ireland. There were several men of speculative and enterprising minds, who, looking upon the obstinate defence of abuses at home, and the facility with which they had been: banished from a.neighbouring country, became convinced that a Revolution would:now be as attainable as a Reform, and that there was a fund of strength and indignation in the Irish people, which, if skilfully directed, would vanquish every obstacle. There is no intention here of passing any unthinking panegyric upon those who were thus meditating a conspiracy against the State-upon the merits of such fatal appeals to chance and violence, no friend to law and humanity can hesitate a moment ~-but it is due. to historical truth to state, that, in. the present instance, they were not a band of factious demagogues, of desperate minds and ruined fortunes, who were looking to a Revolution as a scene of confusion and depredation. In the formation of 238 LIFE OF CURRAN. such a confederiacy there could, indeed, have been no scrupulious selection of persons. Several, no doubt, entered into the association from private motives; some from ambition-some from vanity-some from revenge; but there were many whose mental attainments, and personal virtues, and enthusiastic fidelity to the cause they had espoused, extorted the admiration and sympathy of those who were the least disposed to justify their conduct, or deplore their fate. As early as the year 1791 the future leaders of the projected designs were taking measures for organizing the public force, by producing a general union of sentiment among the various classes upon whose co-operation they were to depend. As yet neither their plans nor objects were distinct and defined; but without any formal avowal of those objects to each other, and perhaps without being fully apprized themselves of their own final determinations, they took as effectual advantage of every public accident as if the whole had been previously digested and resolved. About this period several of the friends to constitutional monarchy, among whom appeared some of the most respected and exalted characters in the country, united in forming politicarsocieties,* for the purpose of Collecting together all the rational supporters of freedom, and, by affording a legal and public channel of expression to the popular sentiment, of preventing the adoption of secret and more formidable combinations. Many of the persons, who were afterwards the most active promoters of more violent proceedings, became merm bers'of these societies, of which the avowed object was a simple * The principal of these was the Whig Club, which was formed under the auspices of the late Loid Charlemont. The example was soon followed by the establishment of societies of United Irishmen at Belfast and Dublin, and finally in every part of the hknugdom. It would be inconsistent with the limits of this work to trace minutely the progress of these societies; but it should be observed, that several who were leading members of the United Irishmen, when their designs had become revolutionary, were unconnected with them at a'n earlier period. It is also necessary to remark, that, though many of those who took an active part in their proceedings at every period of their existence would originally have been satisfied with a reform, there were exceptions. See the fol. lowing note.-C. UNIrrED IRISHMEN. 239 redress of grievances-and with this there are reasons to believe that the4uture leaders of the conspiracy would in the first instance have been satisfied; but soon perceiving the improbability of such an event, while they continued, as members of the original and legal associations, ostensibly to limit their views to a Constitutional Relorln, they were industriously establishing subordinate clubs* throughout the country, to which, in order to allure adherents, and to evade suspicion, they assigned the same popular denominations, and the same tests; but, by impressing on the minds of all who were admitted (and all of every class were admitted) that no hope of constitutional redress remained, they speedily formed them into a widely extended confederacy, under the name of the Irish Union, for revolutionizing Ireland, and establishing a Republic. This statement refers more immediately to the north of Ireland, were a large portion of the inhabitants were Protestants or Dissenters, who, having no religious disabilities to exasperate them, and being to a considerable degree possessed of affluence and education, must be supposed to have been determined to republican principles upon purely speculative grounds. It should, however, be observed, that simultaneously with their proceedings, and * Entitled " Societies of United Irishmen." By the test of the more early of these societies, the members pledged themselves "to persevere in endeavouring to form a brotherhood of affection among Irishmen of every religious persuasion, and t( obtain an equal, full, and adequate representation of all the people of Ireland in the Commons lHouse of Parliamentd." In the year 1795 the latter words were struck out, ir order to accomlwhodate the test to the revolutionary designs that began to be generally entertained. Report qf the Secret Committee, 1798. It is a received opinion, that the celebrated Thobald Wolfe Tone was the author of the Constitution of the later United Irishmen; but the writer of this work is informed that he himself denied this to be the fact. " He assured me (adds my authority) that Captain Thomas Russell, to whom he was for many years so warmly attached, was the person who dlmw up that remarkable paper, and that he (Tone) was not a member of the close society of United Irishmen till the eve of his embarking at Belfast for America, in the sumn:er of 1795." It is, however, certain that Mr. Tone, as far back as 1791, strongly recommended to the societies of United' Irishmen, then in their infancy, to attempt a Revolution, as appears from his letter written in that year to the society at Belfast.-JReport of thee Secret Committee. — (Appendix.)-C. 240 LIFE OF CORRAN. without any connexion or communication with them, a most formidable league existed among the poorer Catholics of several districts. These latter, assuming the name of Defenders,* had originally associated to repel the local outrages of their Protestant neigbbours. The frequency and tihe length of the conflicts in which they were involved, had forced them into a kind of barbarrous discipline and coherence; and having now become confident from their numbers, and,from their familiarity with success or with danger, they began to despise the laws, of which they had vainly invoked the protection, and to entertain a vague idea that their strength might be successfully employed. fbr the improvement of their condition. While their minds were in this state of-confused excitation, emissaries were despatched from the united societies to explain to them their wrongs, and to propose the remedy. The D)efenders were easily persuaded by the eloquence of doctrines, which. only more skilfully expressed their previous sentiments; and, laying aside their religious resentments and distinctive appellation, adopted the more general views and title of United Irishmen. Before the year 1796, societies of United Irishmen prevailed in every.quarter of the, kingdom. The great majority consisted of the lowest classes, of whom all that had the inducements of degradation, or of personal animosities, readily enlisted under a standard that was to lead them to freedom and revenge. In order to secure an uniformity of action, and habits of subordination, a regular and connected system (comprising committees, baronial, county, and provincial; and, finally, an executive) was established, and poriodical returns of members admitted, arms procured, money contributed, and of every other proceeding, were made with all the forms and order of civil state. * The Defenders first appeared about the year 1785: they' increased rapidly, and soon attained a considerable degree of organization. From their oath and rules, which are couched in the rudest language, it sufficiently appears that the Associatioa must have been composed of the lowest order in the community.-C. PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLT. 241 Their numbers had soon become so great, that nothLng but discipline seemed wanting to the accomplishment of their objects; and when we consider the description of men of whom the mass was composed, we cannot contemplate without surprise the spirit of ardour and secrecy that they displayed, and the enthusiastic patience with which they submitted to the irksomeness of delay, and to the labours and dangers by which alone any degree of discipline could be acquired. In the neighbourhood of the capital and the principal towns, where large bodies could not have assembled without discovery, they separated into very small parties, each of which appointed the most skilful to direct its manceuvres. The most active search was made for persons who had ever been in the military profession, to whom every motive of reward, and rank, and expected glory, were held out, and generally with suiiccess, to allurfe them into the association. Under these they met, night after night, to be instructed in the use of arms; sometimes in obscure cellars, hired for the purpose; sometimes in houses, where every inhabitant was in the secret; it even sometimes happened that in the metropolis these nocturnal exercises took place in the habitations of the more opulent and ardent of the conspirators. In the interior their evolutions were performed upon a more extensive scale. There, every evening that the moon, the signal of rendezvous, was to be seen in the heavens, the peasant, without reposing from the toils of the day, stole forth with his rude implement of war, to pass the night upon the nearest unfrequented heath, with the thousands of their comrades, who were assembled at that place and hour, as for the celebration of some unrighteous mysteries. It was also a frequent custom at this time, among the lower orders, to collect in large bodies, under the pretext indulging in some of the national games of force; but for the secret purpose of inspiring mutual confidence, by the display of their numbers, and their athletic forms, and of exercising in those mimic contests the alertness and vigour which they were so soon to employ in the real conflict. The general enthusiasm was kept 11 242 LIFE OF CURRAN. alive by the distribution of songs in praise of fieedomn, arranged to popular native airs. Green, the old distinguishing colour of the island, and in itself, from its connexion with the face and restorative energies of nature, an excitant to the imlaginations of men, who conceived themselves engaged in a struggle for the recovery of their natural rights, was adopted as their emblem. Their passions for spirituous liquors, a propensity that seems in some degree peculiar to those with whom it is the olly luxury, and to those who have exhausted every other, was restrained, by explain ing to them the embarrassment in which the sudden non-con sumption of such a source of revenue would involve the Grovernment. And so intense was the ardour for the general cause, that this inveterate indulgence was sacrificed to such a motive, and the populace became for a while distinguished by habits of unaccustomed, and it might be said, impassioned. sobriety.* The leaders of the United Irishmen began now (1.790) to look with confidence to the success of their designs; but foreseeing that notwithstanding their strength and enthusiasm, the contest with the regular forces of the Government might be sanguinary and protracted, they were anxious to call in the aid of a disciplined army, which, by directing the movements and restraining the excesses of the insurgents, might enable them to decide the struggle at a blow. For such a reinforcement they turned their eves towards France. The documents produced upon Jackson's trial had lately given them public intimation, that that country was disposed to assist the Irish malcontents. The latter were aware that France could have no interest in promoting a cons,.itutioncal reform in Ireland, of which the obvious effect would have been an accession of strength to the British empire: they therefore applied for a military aid to effect a separation from England.t This * Of the preceding facts, some are taken from the report of the secret committee and others are given upon the authority of individual information.-C. t' The United Ir'ishmen despatched an agent to France for this purpose, about the middle of 1T96. r. Tone was then at Paris, and exerted all his influence to the same efect, FRANCE AND THEE REBELS. 243 would evidently be an important object with the French Government; and it was the necessity of holding out such an inducement that in some degree determined the Irish directory to the final and extreme measure of a Revolution.'The French authorities accepted the- proposal, and immediately prepared for the embarkation of an army, to-co-operate with the Trish insurgents.- But the main dependence of the leaders of the conspiracy was upon the Irish populace; an agricultural population, full of vigour, burning for the conflict, and long inured to habits of insurrection. Of these, 500,000 were in arms. If it should here be asked: by any of the, many sgubjects of the same empire, who still continue strangers to the former condition of Ireland, how so long and formidable a system of secret organization could have been carried by her people for the violent design of revolutionizing her country? the answer is not difficult. It In the first memorial which Mr. Tone presented to the French directory in order to induce fhem to send an expedition to Ireland, he stated-that at that period more than twothirds of the sailors, in, the; British Navy were Irish; that he was present when the Catholic delegates urged this to Lord Melville as one reason for granting emancipation, and that his lordship had not denied the fact. This statement was understood to have had great weight with the directory, who immediately committed the whole of the subject to the consideration of Carnot (then one of the directory) and Generals Clark and Homihe. The gentleman who has communicated the preceding circumstances has added the following anecdote: Soon after an expedition to Ireland had been left to tihe decision. of Carnot, Clark, and Hoche, they named ap evening to. meet TOne at the palace of Luxembourg. Tone arrived at the appointed hour, eight o'clock. He was ushered int %,splendid apartment. Shortly after the director and the generals made their appearance: they bowed coldly, but civilly, to Tone, and. almost immediately retired, without apology or explanation, tlhrough a door opposite to that by which, they had entered. Tone was a good deal st truck by so unexpected a reception; but his surprise increased, when ten o'clock:rrivedl,. ifihout the appearance of, or message of any-kind -from those on whotm all hisl hopes seemed to depend. The clock struck eleven, twelve, one-all was still in the palace; the steps of the sentinels, on their posts without, alone interrupted the dead silence that prevailed within. Tone paced the room in. considerable anxiety; not even a e ervant had entered of whom to inquire his way out, or if the dir'ector and the generals: had retired. About two o'clock the folding doors were suddenly thrown open; Carnot, Clarke, and Hoche entered; their countenances brightened, and the coldness and reserve. so observable at eight o'clock, had vanished Clarke: advanced quickly to Tone, and taking him colrdially by the hand, said, " Ctizet / Iconlgratulitte you: wee go to. Ireland."-The others did the same; and.having fixed'the time to meet again, the persons engaged in this remarkable transaction separated. —C. 244: LIFE OF CU'RXAN-. sprang from their degradation, and from the ignorance and revenge that accompanied it. The Rebellion of 1798 was a servile war. In Ireland her millions of peasantry were a mere collection of physical beings, to whom nature had amply dispensed every human passion, but whom society had imparted no motives to restrain them. The informing mind of a free constitution had never reached them; they never felt the tranquillizing consciousness that they were objects of respect. In Ireland the State was not the " great central heart," that distributed life and health, and secured them in return. The old Irish government was a mechanical, not a moral system; it was, what it has been so often likened to, a citadel in an enemy's country; its first and its last expedient was force; it forgot that those whom no force can subdue, nor dangers terrify, will kneel before an act of conciliation. But it obstinately refused to conciliate, and the people at length, prepared by the sufferings and indignities of centuries, listened with sanguine or desperate credulity to the counsel which reminded them of their strength, and directed them to employ it in one furious effort, which, whether it failed or prospered, could not embitter their condition. The spirit of the Government found a ready and fatal co-operation in the gentry of the land. Never was there a class of nmen less amenable to the lessons of experience; adversity, the great instructor of the wise, brought to them all its afflictions without their antidote. Every fierce, inveterate resentment of the race lineally descended, with the title-deeds, from the father to the child. Year after year the landlord's house was fired, his stock was plundered, his rent unpaid, his land a waste, and each succeeding year he was seen effecting his escape, through scences of turbulence and danger, from his estate to the capital, to make his periodical complaint of his sufferings, and to give the minister another vote for their continuance. The Irish landlord of the last century was the great inciter to insurrection. With a nominal superiority of rank and education. LANDLORD AND PEASANT. 245 he was in every ferocious propensity upon a level with the degraded dependants, whom he affected to contemn, and whose passions he vainly laboured to control; because he had never set them the example by controlling his own. Finding his efforts abortive, he next vindictively debased them; and the consequence was, that in a little time he shared the same fate with his victims. The condition of Ireland during the eighteenth century affobrds a striking and melancholy example of the certain retribution with which a system of misrule will visit those who so mistake their own interests as to give it their support. An inconsiderable order, or a single sect, may (however unjustly) be degraded with impunity; but the degradation of the mass of a nation will inevitably recoil upon its'oppressors. The consequences may not always be visible in formidable acts of force; but there is a silent and unelring retaliation in the effects upon morals and manners, by which the tyrant is made eventually to atone for his crimes. In every condition of society the predominating sentiments and manners will spread and assimilate. In highly polished states they may be observed descending from the higher to the inferior ranks. The courtesy and humanity of the old French peer were found to give a tinge to the conversation of the mechanic. In uncivilized countries the progress is the reverse; the rudeness of the boor will ascend and taint his master. The latter was the case in Ireland; the Irish peasant, in his intercourse with his superiors, saw nothing of which the imitation could soften and improve him. The gentry, although conscious that their religion, and the violent means by which so many of them had acquired their properties, excited the suspicion and aversion of those below them, resorted to every infallible method of confirming these hostile impressions. Instead of endeavouring to eradicate them by mildness and protection, they insulted and oppressed. The dependant, unrestrained by any motive of affection or respect, avenged himself by acts of petty outrage. The outrage was resented and punished as an original unprovoked aggression. Fresh revenge ensued, and hence 246 LIFE OF CURRAN. every district presented scenes of turbulent contention, in which the haughty lord lost whatever dignity he had possessed, and finally became infected with the barbarous passions and manners of the vassals whom he had disdained to civilize, till he required as much to be civilized himself. The attachment of the Irish peasant to the government was suspected; but nothing could have been more unskilful than the means adopted to secure his fidelity. The Irish aristocracy, wvho imagined that because they were loyal, they might proceed to every violent extreme, were a band of political fanatics, and would have made proselytes by the sword. They knew nothing of the real nature of the allegiance which they were so zealous to establish, and which was never yet established by the sword. They were not aware that the allegiance of a nation to the state is a feeling compounded of a thousand others, half interest, half sentiment, of gratitude, of hope, of recollections, of the numberless minute and " tender influences," that reconcile the subject to his condition; that it is seldomn a direct and defined attachment to the sovereign, but a collection of many subordinate attachments, of which the sovereign has all the benefit; that it is but the youngest of the group of private virtues, and, like them, must be reared in the bosom of domestic comfort; that it is upon the moral allegiance of each rank to its immediate relations, of the servant to his master, of the artisan to his employer, of the tenant to his landlord, that must be founded the political allegiance of the whole to the State. Those mistaken loyalists supposed that they were teaching allegiance by a haughty and vindictive enforcement of the laws against its violation. They did not see that they were exacting from the laws what no laws could perform; that their positive provisions must be always impotent, where their spirit isnot previously infused into: the: subject by manners and institutions. In Ireland these two were at perpetual variance. The Irish lawgiver passed his statute, setting forth, ir pompous phraseology, its wis INTOLERAN CE. 24:7 dorn and necessity, and denouncing the gibbet against the offender, and tlen returned to his district, to defeat its efficacy, by giving a practical continuance to the misery, the passions, the galling epithiets, and the long' train of customary insults and local provocations tlhilt were for ever instigating to crime. He did what was stranger fltd more absuld thian this-he had the folly to put the State in conpetition with a power above it. He trampled upon the religion of the people * —not reflecting that, though by the doctrines of Christianity all injuries are to be forgiven, it had been the univelsal practice of its various sects, f-or successive centuries, to except the offences committed agaiinst themselves. He pointed to the peasant's chapel, and gloried in the reflection, that the disloyal bell. which had called their fathers to worship should never sound upon the ears of their children-as if to approach his Maker with a little show of decent pomp was not the harmless pride of every man of every faith upon the surface of the globe. lie thought he could drive them along the path of allegiance, where he had placed their religion to stop the way; and was surprised that,; when the alternative was to be made, they should turn upon their driver rather than advance in the face of what they dreaded more than death. The mass of the Irish people were tillers of the soil, and were thus systematically debarred, by those who should have been their patrons and instructors, from every motive to be tranquil. The country gentleman, the great bulwark (if he performs his duties) against exterded projects of revoltion, hated them and feared theml i. e received them with sullen reserve when they brought hirm his rent, and trembled at the vigorous hands that paid it; but there was no moral intercourse between them, no interchange of * The first attacks upon the Irish Catholics originated in the English parliament; but,he Irish aristocracy gave the penal code their fullest support. Had the latter performed their duty, and undeceived England upon the supposed necessity of continuing it, the fate of Ireland would have been very different; but upon this subject England was abuled. and is to this hio 1r abused.- C. 248 LIFE OF CURRAN. sympathy and endearing offices. The landlords, in constant alarm for their property and safety, would not convert the depredator into a protector. They opposed the tenant's education, which would have taught him to employ his idle hours in acquiring a love of order, instead of passing them in plans to recover in plunder what he had paid in rent, and looked upon as tribute. Erecting the nselves into the little deities of their own district, they would i.ot let the tenant touch of knowledge, lest he should "become as one of them." They drew between themselves and their natural allies a proud line of separation, which effectually cut off all communications of reciprocal affection, but proved a barrier of air against irruptions of hatred and of force. In Ireland there were none of those feudal privileges which bring the persons and feelings of the Scottish dependants into closer contact with those of their superiors. The Irish peasant was never seen in the hall of his lord. He was left in his hovel to brood over his degradation —to solace or inflame his fancy with legendary traditions of his country's ancient glory, and with rude predictions of her coming regeneration, and to hail, in every factious spirit, the Messiah that was to redeem her. These were the real causes of the avidity with which the Irish populace entered into this formidable conspiracy. The government was early apprised of its existence though not of its extent, and took very vigorous but ineffectual means to suppress it. Session after session it resorted to measures of terror or precaution, by penal acts and prosecutions, to try their efficacy; but, of the persons thus proceeded against, the acquittal of many only served to bring discredit upon the Administration, while the executions of such as were convicted were regarded by their party as so many acts of hostile severity, that called, not for submission, but revenge. The Ministers of the Crown conducted themselves, at this trying crisis, with a zeal which could not be too much applauded, if it were not so often carried to excess, and with the most undoubted fide'ty to the powers whom they served; but throughout they com MINISTERIAL FOLLY. 249 mitted one fatal error, which must for ever detract from their characters as able statesmen. Because it was evident that a few educated men were at the head of the popular combinations, they adopted, and to the last persisted in the opinion, or at least in the assertion, that the whole was essentially a conspiracy of a few speculative adventurers, who had seduced the nation from its allegiance, and that all the power and wisdom of the State was to be confined to the counteraction of the malignant design; and to this notion, notwithstanding its daily refutation, they adhered, with the spirit rather of persons engaged in an acrimonious controversy, than of ministers whose duty it was to save the country from the horrors of a civil war.* It was to no purpose that the sophistry by which they defended it was exposed-it was in vain that they were told, by men who knew the state of Ireland and the general course of the human passions as well as they did, that their reasonings would never satisfy the disaffected-that the dissatisfaction was not temporary or accidental, but radical-and that it was only a waste of time and of life to resort to unpopular laws and frelqucnt executions, while the parent mischief remained untouched upon the statute book. - The Irish Ministry not only spurned those cout:seis, which the event proved to have been prophetic, but, superadding a farther error, they reviled tile advisers with so little discretion, that they gave the real conspirators official authority for believingthat the opposers of the Administration were secretly the advocates of rebellion, and thus afforded them an additional incitement a. persevere in their designs.t * Even after the suppression of the Rebellion, when the Government possessed the tullest information regarding its origin and progress, the Viceroy, in his speech to the Parliament, was made to say, " the foulest and darkest conspiracy was formed and long carried on by the implacable enemy of this realm, for the total extinction of the Constitu. tion, etc."-Lord Lieutenant's Speech, October 6, 1798. t A leading member of the minority in the Irish House of Commons was the late Mr. George Ponsonby, a gentleman, who, if the purest constitutional views and personal dignity of deportment could have saved from insults, would have escaped them; but at this period no dignity was a protection. He, among others, impressed upon the Ministry that Ireland could be preserved from the threatened crisis by no means but by a complete 250 LIFE OF CURRAN. This glaring departure from the most obvious prudence has been variously accounted for. By many it has been attributed to incapaeity. A more general: opinion was, that the Government was fomenting the conspirac.y, inr order that the excesses to which it, would lead might reconcile the nation to a Legislative Union:: and, however vwlgl~a and improbable the latter supposition may appear. it is still perhaps the- only one that can- satisfactorily explain the apparent inconsistencies and, infatuation of their councils. The enemy of Great- Britain had; already made an abortive effort* reform of- the Parliament; by Catholic- emancipation, an-d'by- an equalization of commerce. between England and Ireland. The following was the answer of one of the servants of the Crown (the solicitor-general) to Mr. Ponsonby's opinions: "What was it come to, that in the Irish House of Commons they should listen- to one of their own members-degradingthe character of an Ixrish gentleman by- language which was fitted but for-hallooing a mob? Had he heard a man uttering out of those doors such language as that by, wfich the honourable gentleman had violated the decorum of Parliament, he would: have seized the ruffian by the throat, and dragged hiim to the dust! Whiat: were-: the house:: made- of who could listen in patience to such, abominable -sentiments?-sentiments which, thank God, were acknowledged by'no class of men in this country, except the execrable and infamous nest of traitors, who were known. by- the name of: United; Irish-men, who sat-; brooding: in Belfast over their. discontentsatnd: treas.onis, and from whose publications he could trace, word for word, every expression the honourable..gentleman had used." —lrishi Parl. Deb. Feb. 1797. Ceorge Ponsonby, one:: of the "Old W-higs," was:a man of mediocre capacity, owing his position mainly to. the circumstance of his aristocratic connexions. His father had been Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. His cousin was Earl of Bessborough; his fatlher; in-law-was the:Earl of:Launsbarough, Bolrn in -t:1755l he was called.to the bar in 1180. iamlo speedily was nmade. King's Counsel, and Counsel to the Revenue Commissioners. tlurtr. relling with " the Castle," he was turned out of office, and became patriotic-: "Here and there some stern, high patriot stood, Who could not get the place for which he cried." In:tlherish: Parliamen.t he; wva one of the Opposition, leaders, and was-made Lord Chancellor- of Ireland in 1806,, On the break. up- of the. Fox ministry.he: lost his office, but was solaced withia pension o f:-4o00, which- he duly.drewi year after year, until his death in Jly::1851. F'or some-years.after leavingI:.I:eland, he- wa-s sa Parliatnentary lea(ler of the Opposition in England. —M. ~* In. Decenmber:796 the Farenclh Fleetwas-d(lspyersed.by a storm. A part of it anchored in Banitry- Bay; where it iremiutned: for sone —days; but::the vessel, on Loard of which Gen. HIoche.(the commander of the expedition).was, lmot arriving, the French admiral, without att:,mplting a.l landing, returned. to France.- It is well known that grievous complaints were mad1e.-in the -qglish Parliament against the -Ministry, for havingleft the coast of Ireland THE CROPPIES. 251 to transport an armament to Ireland, the landing of which! was to have been th, signal for the intended rising; but the leaders of the Irish' Union, still depending upon the promised renewal of the attempt, had been anxious to restrain the irnpatience of the people until the foreign succours should arrive. Disappointed, however, in their expectations fiom abroad, and apprehending from any further delay, either the uncontrollable impetuosity or the desertion of their followers, they resolved, in the early part of this year, against-their better judgment, to bring the matter to a final issue. The 23d of May was fixed as the day for a general insurrection. so unprotected on this occasion. In explanation of this apparent negligence, Theobold Wolf Tone, who had been confidentially employed in the preparations for the French expedition (he was himself on board one of the vessels that anchored in Bantry Bay)' related the following circumstances, as having come within his personal knowledge. While this formidable armament, which had so long fixed the attention of Europe, was fitting out'at Brest, various conjectures prevailed as to its probable destination. The general opinion was that the invasion of either Iieland or Portugal was intented.-There was at this time (according to Mr. Tone's account) a secret agent of the British ministry at Brest, who, having discoveled that a particular printer of that town had General Hloche's proclamations in his press, privately offered him a large sum for a single copy. With this offer the printer made General Hoche acquainted, who immediately drew up a proclamation, as addrlessed to the Portuguese by the commanider of the French invading army. A few copies of this were accordingly, by the General's desire, struck off, and handed by the printer to the agent. The latter forwarded them to Mr. Pitt, whom the rece;ipt of such a document is said to have so completely deceived, that he directed the British squadrons to make Portugal the peculiar object of their vigilance, anbd, in the first instance, treated the report of an actual descent upon Ireland with derision. Although the appearance of the French Fleet in Bantry Bay produced no movensents of disaffection in the vicinity, it was yet at this period, or very shortly after, that the organization of the United Irishmen was most complete, and their prospect of success most promising. In 17971 they felt assured, that, in the event of a general insurrection, thile greater number of the Irish militia regiments would have revolted. It is confidently asserted, that an attack upon Dublin having been proposed in that year, every soldier who mounted guard in that city on the night of the intended attempt was in their interests. The following occurrence, however ludicrous, is a striking proof of the prevailing sentiment among the native forces.: At this time persons of democratic pi'inciples, in imitation of the French revolutionists, Tore their hair short behind; from which custom Croppies and Rebels became synonymous terms. A commander of yeomanry in Dublin, while reviewing his corps, observed a false tail lying upon the parade. He held it up, and asked wiho had dropped it. By an instantaneous movement, every man of the corps raised his hand to the back of his head. This corps is said to have been, in consequence, disbanded on the fo owing day.-C. 252 LIFE OF CURRAN. Of this intention the government having received information in the course of the preceding March, arrested several of the principal leaders in the capital; and, announcing by proclamation the existence of the conspiracy, authorised the military powers to employ the most summary methods of suppressing it. This formal declaration of the impending crisis was followed by the most extreme agitation of the public mind. Every ear was (atching, every tongue was faltering some tremendous confirmation that the hour was at hand. As it approached, the fearful tokens became too manifest to be mistaken. In the interior, the peasantry were already in motion. Night after night large masses of them were known to be proceeding by unfrequented paths to some central points. Over whole tracts of country the cabins were deserted, or contained only women and children, from whom the inquirers could extort no tidings of the owners. In the towns, to which, in the intervals of labour, the lower classes delighted to flock, a frightful dimunition of numbers was observed; while the few that appeared there, betrayed, by the moody exultation of their looks, that they were not ignorant of the cause.. Throughout the capital, against which the first fury of the insurgents was to be directed, and where, from its extent, there could never be a certainty that the attack had not already begun, the consternation was universal. The spectacle of awful preparation, that promised security, gave no tranquillity. In the panic of the moment the measures for security became so many images of dangel'. The mnilitary array and bustle in some streets-the silence and desertion of others-the names of the inhabitants registered on every door-the suspension of public amusements, and almost of private intercourse-the daily proclamations-prayers put up in the churches for the general safety-families flying to England-partings that might be eternal-every thing oppressed the imagination with the conviction, that a great public convulsion was at hand. The Parliament* and the courts of justice, with a laudable attach* On the 22d of May (the day before the insurrection) the House of Commons voted an MIARTIAL LAW. 253 ment to the forms of the constitution, continued their sittiligs; but the strange aspect of senators and advocates transacting c ivil business in the garb of soldiers, reminded the spectator that the final dependance of the state was upon a power beyond the laws. In Dublin the domestics of the principal citizens had disappeared, and gone off to join the insurgents; while those, who could not be seduced to accompany them, became the more suspected, fronf this proof of their fidelity: they could have remained, it was apprehended, fo~r the sole purpose of being spies upon their masters, and co-operators in their intended destruction; and thus, to the real dangers of a general design against the government, were added all the imaginary horrors of a project of individual vengeance. The vigorclis precautions of the Administration, instead of inspiring confidence, kept alive the public terror and suspense. In every quarter of the kingdom the populace were sent in droves to the prisons, till the prisons could contain no more. The vessels in the several bays adjoining the scenes of disturbance were next converted into gaols. The law was put aside: a non-commissioned officer became the arbiter of life and death. The military were dispersed through every house: military visits were paid to every. house in search of arms, or other evidence of treason. The dead were intercepted on their passage to the grave, and their coffins examined, lest they might contain rebellious weapons. Many of the conspirators were informally executed. Many persons who were innocent were arrested and abused. Many who might have been innocent, were suspected, and summarily put to death. Upon the appointed day the explosion took place. The shock was dreadful. The imagination recoils from a detail of the scenes that followed. Every excess that could have been apprehended from a soldiery, whom General Abercrombie, in the language of address to the Viceroy, expressing their fidelity and their reliance upon the vigilance and vigour of his government. In order to render the proceeding mo.re imposing, all the members of that house, with the Speaker at their head, walked through the streets, two and two, and presented the address to his Excellency. —C. 254 LIFE OF CURRAN. manly reproof had declared to be in a state of licentious'ness that rendered it formidable to all but the enemy; every act of furious retaliation to be expected from a peasantry inflamed by revenge and despair, and, in consequence of the loss of their leaders, sllrendered: tc the auspices of their own impetuous passions, distinguished and disgraced- this fatal coniiflict.* After a short and sanguinary struggle, the insurg ents weire crushed. The numbers of them: who perished in the field, or on; the scaff'old, or were exiled, are said to have amounted to 50,000;-the'losses upon the side of the crowni have been comnputed at 20,000 lives;-a solemnn and memorable fact:-70,000 subjecti sacrificed; in a' single year; whose' energies, had other: maxinms of go ve rnment prevailed, might: have been devoted to: what it is equally the interest of subjects and governiments toplromotee-the cause of rational freedom, the possession of which can' aklone inspire a nianly and enlightened attachment to the laws and' the state. * The high state of passion and resentment which: prevailed at this unfortunate period may be collected from tie single fact that in the House of Commons a member suggested that military executions should have a retrospective operation, and that tthe state prlisoners, dho had been for several weeks in the hanids'of govermhlenit, should be summarily disposed of; but the secretary, Lord Castlereagh) with becoming dignity and humanity, vehemently discountenanced so shocking a proposal.-C. ['Ihere is something ludicrous' In any one's gravely speaking of the " humanity" of Castlereagh! —M.] TRTIAL OF TiliE SItEIAESES. 255 CHAPTER XI. TrI 1l of Henry and John Sheares. As soon as the public safety was secured (it was long before tranquillity was restored) by the defeat of the insurgents, a general amnesty was granted to all, except the actual leaders of thie conspiracy, who should surrender theiri arms, and take the oath of allegiance to the King. Several" of tlie leaders, were- in the hands of the Government, and it was now decided that the most conspicuous of them should be brought' to immediate trial, in order that their fates should give a final blow to any still remaining' hopes of their adherents. The first of' the persons thus selected were twi youig genitlemen, brothers,. and members of the Irisih bar, tIenly and John Sheares.* Their rerviousliistoryv ontainrs not!.i lgpectliar.- They were both of respectahle and amliable characters. The elder of them: " hadgiven. many i ostages:~ to fortune;" but with the ardour incidental to their years, anidto the times, they had been induced to look beyond those sources of private happiness which they appear to have abundantly cnjoyed, and to engage in the political speculations that were now to be-exIpiated with their lives. When the original membern s of' the Irish executive were: comniitted to prisons in the month of'March, the Sheareses were amongrthose wliho were chosen to- supply their place, and they took a very active; part in arranging the plan of the approaching insurrection'. * The SheareSes were arr'eSte'd:on the 21st-bf May, 1798; tivo days'before the rising hf the people. They were two Corkl gentlemen, " bariristrs'by profession," says Davis, " both men of liberal education, but-of very uunequal characters.' Henry; the eldest', wtaS mild, changeful, weak: John was fiery and firm, and of much greater abilities."-M., 256 LIFE OF CURRAN. Of all these proceedings the Government obtained accurate infor. mation through a Captain Armstrong, an officer of the Irish militia, who had succeeded in insinuating himself into their confidence, for the purpose of discovery.* They were accordingly arrested two days previous to the explosion, and were now summoned to abide their trial for high treason. Mr. Curran's defence of these unfortunate brothers was suppressed at the period, and is generally supposed to have altogether perished. A report of the trial has, however, been preserved, from which an accouit of the share that he bore in it shall now be given.t The prisoners were brought to the bar, and arraigned, on the 4th of July, 1798.t In this stage of the proceedings, a very interesting and impo:tant discussion took place. Their counsel having discovered that one of the grand jury, who had found the bill of indictment, was a naturalized Frenchmnan,~ pleaded that * Of Captain Armstrong, Davis says, " This frightful wretch had sought the acquaintance of the Sheareses-made it-encouraged their prospects-assisted them with military hints-professed tender love for them-mixed with their family, and used to dandle Henry Sheares's children. * * * He shared their hospitality-urged ou their schemes-came to condole with them in prison-and then assassinated them with his oath." John Warneford Armstrong was Captain in the Kinga's County Mlilitia. Hie made the acquaintance of the Sheareses to get them into his clutches, and dined with John the day before the arrest. He had actually known them only ten days before that. Barrington says that Henry Sheares ", was a participator in the treason, and aided in procuring emissaries to seduce the troops at Loughlinston. There Cat)ta'n Armstrong became acquainted with the'wo brothers-pledged to theli his friiendship —persuaded them he would seduce his regiment-gained their implicit confidence —-.aithful!y fulfilled the counter-plot-devised several secret meetings-and worked up sulfienit guilt to sacrifice the lives of both."-M. t The father of the Sheareses, a;anker in Cork, had been a member of the Irish Parliament, and in that capacity had succeeded in carrying an act (5th George III.) by which was conceded fo prisoners the right to have counsel assigned them by the Court and to have a ccpy of the indictment. Under this statute, Mr. Curran and Mr. McNally were assigned as counsel to John Sheares, and Mr. Plunket for Henry Sheares.-M. I The trial took place before Lord Carleton, Barons Smith and George, and Justice Daly. —I. ~ It was MecNally who filed the plea that John I)ecluzeau, one of the jurors who found the bills, for lHigh Treason, against the Shearcses and for others, was an alien, not naturalisod. The Crown lawyers argued against this plea, and then, in reply, Curran spoke in Its support.-M. TRIAL OF THE SHEARSESES. 2 5 fact against its legality. The following are parts of Mr. Curran's argument upon the occasion: * "My lords; the law of this country has declared, that in order to the conviction of any man, not only of any charge 6f the higher species of criminal offences, but of any criminal charge whatsoever, he must be convicted upon the finding of two juries; first, of the grand jury, who determine upon the guilt in one point of view; and, secondly, by the corroborative finding of the petty jury, who establish that guilt in a mnore direct manner; and it is the law of this country, that the jurors, who shall so find, whether upon the gran1 or upon the petty inquest, shall be probi et legales homines omni exceptione majores. They must be open to no legal objection of personal incompetence; they must be capable of having freehold property, and i.n order to have freehold property, they must not be open to the objection of being born under the jurisdiction of a foreign prince, or owing allegiance to any foreign power. Because the law of this country, and indeed the law of every country in Europe, has thought it an indispensable precaution, to trust no man with the weight or influence which territorial possession may give him contrary to that allegiance which ought to flow from such possession of property in the country. This observation is emphatically forcible in every branch of the criminal law; but in the law of treason, it has a degree of force and cogency that fails in every inferior class of offence; because the very point to be inquired into in treason is the nature of allegiance. The general nature of allegiance may be pretty clear to every man. Every man, however unlearned he may be, can easily acquire such a notion of allegiance, whether natural and born with him, or whether it be temporary and contracted by emigration into another country; he may acquire a vague, untechnical * Different statutes of Charles II. Geo. I. and Geo. III. enact, that naturalized aliens, performing certain specified conditions, " shall be deemed liege, free, and natural sub. jects, to all intents and purposes;" with a proviso " that they shall not be enabled te serve in Parliament, nor to be of his majesty's privy council, nor to hold any office of trust, civil or military, in the kingdom.-C. 258 LIFE OF CUR-AxN. idea of allegiance, I r his immendiate personal co'nduct. But I am warranted in saying that the constitution does not suppose that anu f:;reiler hls iany direct idea of' allegiance but what he owes to hi~ ori'!rinal Irilln(c. The collnstitution sulposes, and takes for ga.llt.ted, that ino toi'eienler hIas such an idea of our peculiar and pe,.is allegiance, ac s cua lifies himn to act as a julor, where that is thie y'lstion, to be inAuired into-; aiud I found myself upon this knmownI pr' in1ipmi)le, thlit tlhoug'h the benignity of the Enolish lavw has, in ni mn1- cases, Owhere striangers arie tried, given a jury, half composed of foreilles and half natives, that benefit is detied to all' ally accused of tlesicn, fbr the reason I have sfated; becauise, says Sir AV. B31lackstone,'aliens are very improper judge-ts of the bt.reacl of allegianice.'* A foreigner is a most iinprol:;e; judge of what tie allegiane is wlhich binds an lEn'lisl.ullject to his co-nstitutiont. A ndt, thleireftr e, uillon thllit idea of utter incompetenecy in a stiraigem, is eve;%x fletei,;'ye di reti emoved tid relelled from exercising a fiunction tlat he is supposed lutterly unable to disctharge. If one Frenchman sliall be su iliered to find a bill of indictment between our Lord the Ki.ng and Ilis su1bje(ts, by a parity of reasoning may twenty-three m..ein of the same diescent 1)e put into the box; with authority to find a bill of indictment. By the samie reason, that the court lnay communicate with one man whose language they do not know, ilmay they communicate witli twenty-three natives of twenty-three different countries and languages. IHow far do I mean to carry this? Thus far: that every statute, or means by which allegiance may be shaken off; and any kind of benefit or privilege conferred upon an emigrating foreigner, is for ever to be considered by a court of justice with relation to thlat naturlal incompetency to perform certain trusts, which is takein %r granted and establishecd by the law of England. "Til3refore, my lord, my clients have pleaded, that the bill of indicttnlleit to which: tliey have been' called: upon to answver has * 4 Bl. Cornm. 852.-C. RIGHTS OF ALIENS. 259 been found, amnong others, by a foreigner, born under a foic'ig alleziance and incapable of exercising the light of a juror, upon the g,'and,or the petty inquest. The stat. of Charles lI. Iecites thlat theli kingdom was wasted by the unfortunate tr'oubles of that titne, and that tlrae had decreased for want of merchants. After thlus statingl generall the grievanc(es which had afflicted the.ralde and tpopulation of the collntry, and the necessity of encouragirl ellIi'l'rationl ftiro abroadl, it g'5oes on ianll says, that strangevs may be indullited to transport tlthemselves and famtilies to replenish the collt'tl, if tlhes mla be made lpartakers of the advantlfoes'ntd free exr'cise of their trades withlout interruption and distullbance. The orievance was the scarcity of Imen; the remedny Vas the ellioll'agemrnent of foreigners to transport themselves, and the en col'ragement given was such a degree of protection as was necessary to the filll exercise of their trades in the dealing, buying and selling1 and enjoying the full extent of personal security. Thei'efoie it enacts, tllat all foreigners of the protestant religion, and all merchants, &c. who shall, within the termn of seven years, transport themselves to this country s}lfll be deemed and reputed naturalborn subjects, and'may implead and be impleaded,' and'prosecute and defend suits.' The intention was to give them nprotection for the purllposes for which they were encouraged to come here; and theirefore the statute, instead of saying', generally,'they shall be subjects to all intents and purposes,' specifically enumerates the privileges they shall enjoy. If the legislature intended to malke them'subjects to all intents and purposes,' it had nothing more to do tihan say so.* But not having' meant'any such tllinrg, the statute is TonTfined to the enumeration of the mere hospitable rights and privileges to be granted to such foreigners as come here for special purposes. It states,'he may impread, and li he shall Ibe answered unto;' that' he may prosecute find defend suits.' Wbhy go on an;d tell a man, who is to all intents and ptirposes a naturabl* The statute does say this generally, in the first instance; but the subsequent enumeration of particular privileges supports the view that Mr. Curran took of it.-C. 260 LIFE OF CURRAN. born subject, that he may implead and bring actions? I say, it is to all intents and purposes absurd and preposterous. If all privileges be granted in the first instance, why mention particular parts afterwards? A man would be esteemed absurd, who by his grant gave a thing under a general description, and afterlwalrds granted the particular parts. What- would be thought of a man, who gave another his horse, and then said to the grantee,' I also give you liberty to ride him when and where you please?' What was the case here? The government of Ireland said,' we want men of skill and industry; we invite you to come over; our intention is, that if you be protestants, you shall be protected; but you are not to be judges, or legislators, or kings; we make an act of parliament, giving you protection and encouragement to follow the trades, for your knowledge in which we invite you. You are to exercise your trade as a natural-born subject. How?' With full power to make a bargain and enforce it. We invest you with the same power, and you shall have the same benefit, as if you were appealing to your own natural forum of public justice. You shall be here as a Frenchman in Paris, buying and selling the commodities appertaining to your trade.' "Look at another clause in the act of Parliament, which is said to make a legislator of this man, or a juror, to pass upon the life or death of a fellow-subject-no, not a fellow-subject, but a stranger. It says,'you may purchase an estate, and you may enjoy it, without being a trustee for the crown.' Why was that necessary, if lie were a subject to all intents and purposes? But, my lords, a great question remains behind to be decided upon. I know of no case upon it. I do not pretend to say that the industry of other men inay not have discovered a case. But I would aot be surprised if n6 such case could be found —if, since tile his0ory of the administration of justice, in all its forms, in England, i stranger had not been found intruding himself into its con2erns-if, through the entire history of our courts of justice, an xnstance was not to be found of the folly of a stranger interfering AN ALIEN GRAND JUROR. 261 upon so awful a subject as the breach of allegiance between a subject and his king. My lords, I beg leave upon this part to say that it would be a most formidable thing, that a court of justice would pronounce a determination big with danger, if they should say tlt an alien may find a bill of indictment involving the doctrine of allegiance. It is permitting him to intermeddle in a business of which he cannot be supposed to have any knowledge. Shall a subject of the Irish Crown be charged with a breach of his allegiance upon the saying of a German, an Italian, a Frenchmian, or a Spaniard? Can any man suppose any thing more mor.strous or absurd, than that of a stranger being competent to form an opinion upon the subject? I would not form a supposition upon it. At a time when the generals, the admirals, and the captains of France, are endeavouring to pour their armies upon as, shall we permit their petty detachments to attack us in judicial hostility? Shall we sit inactive, and see their skirmishes take off our fellow-sLubjects by explosions in a jury-roon? " When did this man comle into this country? Is the r'et'.pon which he floated now in court? What has he said upon the 1.ca(:k of the bill? What understanding had he of it? If he can wt!.o more than his own name, and had written'ignoramus' upon the back of the indictment, he might have written truly; he might say he knew nothing of the matter. He says he is naturalized.'I am glad of it; you are welcome to Ireland, sir; you shall have all the privileges of a stranger, independent of the invitation by which you came. If you seM, you shall recover the price of your wares; you shall enforce the contract. If you purchase an estate, you shall transmit it to your children, if you have any; if not, y'our devisee shall have it. But you must know, that in this constitut on there are laws binding upon the court as strongly as upon you. The statute itself, which confers the privileges you enjoy, makes you incapable of discharging offices. Why? Because they go to the fundamentals of the constitution, and belong only to those men who have an internist in that constitution transmitted 262 LIFE OF CURRAN. to them from their ancestors.' Therefore, my lords,: the foreiater milst be content; he shall be kept apart from the judicial functions; —i the extensive words of tile act of parliament, he shall be kept from.'all places of trust whatsoever.' If'the a.t had1 lbeen silent in that part, the court would, notwithstanding, he bolnd to saly that it did not confer the power of filling the hig.h lepartmlents of the state. The alien would still be incapable of sittirgt il either house of parliament-he would be incapable of advising with the king, or holding any place of constitutional trust w!;atev:r. What? shall it be said there is no trust in the office of a grand juror? I do not speak or think.lightly of the sacred officer3 confided.to your lordships, of administering justice between the crown and subject, or between subject and subject; —I do not compare the office of grand juror to that;-but, in the name of God, with reglard to the issues of life and death-with regard to the consequences of imputed or established criminality —what difference is there in the! coistitutional importance between the juror who brings, il a v::cri,:t, and the judge who pronounces upon that verdi',:t the. sentente. of the law? Shall it: be said that the former is no place of trlst?; W~hat is the place of trust meant by the statute? i It is not merely giving a thing to another, or depositing it for. safe custody; it means constitutionla trust. the trust of executing given departments, in which the highest confidence must be reposed in the man appointed to performn them. It means not thle trust of keeping a paltry chattel-it means the awful trust of keeping the secrets of the state ancd of the king. Look at tile weight of the obligation imposed upon the juror —look at the enormous extent of the danger, if he violate or disregard it. At a time like the present, a time of war —what, is the ~rust to be confidled to the conscience of a Frenchman? But I aim spealing fol the lives of mny- clients; and I do not choose even here to state the tet1:rms of the trust, lestI might furnish as many hints of mischief as I amn anxious to furnish arguments of defence. 3But shall a Frenc.hman at this moment be entrusted with those secrets Upon ARGUMEN'S AGAINSTr ALIENS. 263 which your sitting on the bench may eventually depend? What is the inquiry to be made? Having been a pedlar in the country, is he to have the selling of the country, if he be inclined to do so? Is he to have confided to him the secrets of the state. He may remember to have.,had a first allegiance, and that he was sworn to it. He might find civilians to aid his perfidious logic, and to tell him that a secret, communicated to him by the humanity of the country which received him, might be disclosed to the older and better natured allegiance swvorun to a former power.! He might give up the perfidious use of his conscience to the integrity of the older title. Shall the power of calling upon an Irishman to take his trial before an Irish judge, before the country, be left to the broken speech, the lingua franca of a stranger, coming amnong you, and saying,'I was naturalized by act of parliament, and I cannot carry on my trade without dealing in the blood of your citizens' IIe ~holds up your statute as his protection, and flings it against your. liberty, claiming the right of exercising a judicial function, anrd feeling, at the same time, the honest love for an, older title to allegiance. It is a, love which every man ought to feel, and which every subject of this countlrywould feel, if he left his country to-morrow, and were to spend his last hour among the Hottentots of Africa. I do trust in God there, is not a man that hears me, who does not feel that he would carry with him, to the. remotest part of the globe, the old ties which bound him to his original friends, his country, and his king. I do, as the advocate of my clients, of my country-as the advocate for you, my lords, whose elevation prleents you from the possibility of being advocates for yourselves-for youre children I do stand up; and rely upon it, that this act of parliamr.ent has been confined to a limited operation; it was enacted for a limited plllurpose, anl will not allow this meddling stranger to pass upon the life, fame, or fortune of the gentlemen at the bar-of me, their advocate-of you, their judges-or of any man in the nation. It is an intrusion not to be borne.' 260 LIFE OF CIRRAN. Mr. Plunket followed Mr. Curran on the same side; but, after a long discussion, it was ruled by the court, that the office of grand juror was not one of the oqces of trust alluded to by the legislature, and, consequently, that the person objected to was competent to fill it. The prisoners were, therefore, in the language of the law, "awarded to answer over." Their trial was, upon their own application, in consequence of the absence of witnesses, postponed till the 12th of July, when it came on for final decision before Lord Carleton, Mr. Justice Crookshank, and Mr. Baron Smith.* Mr. Curran's speech upon this occasion,t which was considered as the most moving that he had ever pronounced, was rendered peculiarly affecting, by the circumstances that accompanied its delivery. Notwithstanding the length of many of the state trials of this period, the courts seldom adjourned till the proceedings were concluded, so that their sittings were not only protracted to a late hour of the night, but it was not unusual for the returning morning to find them still' occupied with their melancholy labours.: * The Attorney-General of that day, who stated the case for the Crown, was John Toler,-afterwards known as Lord Norbury, " the hanging judge," who would jest with the culprit as he sentenced him to the Gallows.-Alderman Alexander proved that he had found in the open desk of Henry Sheares, in Baggot Street, a rough draft of a rebellious proclamation to the People of Ireland, in the handwriting of John Sheares. Armstrong was examined for the Crown by Saurin.-On the trial it was for Henry Sheales in particular, that Curran spoke. Mr. Davis, who had seen the brief of prisoners' Counsel, and knew that John Sheares had actually dictated the defence, states that they admitted his part in the proceedings against the Government, and, in fact, indicated to Counsel his desire to save his brother Henry even at the risk of his (John's) life.-M. t This speech in its reported state, is by no means the most favourable specimen of Mr. Curran's eloquence. Several passages in it are broken and unconnected, which may be attributed either to the incorrectness of the reporter, or to the extreme exhaustion of the speaker. If the defect arose from the latter cause, the solemnity of his delivery atoned for it with his auditors; for nothing could exceed the effect which it produced upon them. The suppression of this defence has been so often the subject of public regret, that the whole of it, as it has been preserved, is given here.-C. [This is an error. In Davis's edition of Curran's speeches, a fuller report is given.] M.: George Ponsonby opened for Henry and Plunket for John Sheares. M'Nally pressed some law points with little effect. Three witnesses were then examined to prove Captain Armstrong an Atheist: two that he was an avowed Republican and rebel. Several witnesses testified as to the character of the Sheareses. The trial had commenced -t nine TRIAL OF THE SHEARESES. 265 It was midnight when Mr. Curran rose to address the jury; and the feelings with which he entered on the task cannot be perfectly conceived, without adverting to the persons who were grouped around him. At the bar stood his clients, connected with each other by blood, with their advocate, and many more of the surrounding audience, by profession, and with the presiding judge by the ties of hereditary friendship.* Upon the bench he saw in Lord Carleton one of his own oldest and most valued friends, with whom he was now to intercede, if intercession could avail, for those who had so many tender claims to his merciful consideration; while upon the jury appeared several whom Mr. Curran (and probably his clients) had long known as acquaintances and companions, and with more than one of whom he had lived, and was still living, upon terms of the most confidential intimacy. When to this collection of private relations, so unusual upon such an occasion, are added the other attending public circumstances, it is not surprising that the surviving spectators of this memorable scene should speak of it as marked by indescribable solemnity. The fate that impended over the unfortunate brothers-the perturbed state of Ireiand-the religious influence of the hour-the throng of visages in the galleries, some of them disfigured by poverty, others betraying, by their impassioned expression, a consciousness of participation in the offence for which the accused in the morning. At midnight, after fifteen hours' sitting, in a crowded court, in midsummer, Curran entreated the delay of a few hours " for repose, or rather for recollection." If necessary, said he, "I will go on, if I sink." Lord Carleton, instead of adjourning until the next morning, which he could have done, asked the Attorney-General's opinion. Toler declined assenting to any adjournment, and said if the Sheareses' counsel did not speak to the evidence, the Crown lawyer would waive their right to speak, and leave the matter at once to the Court. Then, after a sitting of 16 hours, with only twenty minutes' interval, Carleton decided on going on. And the trial actually proceeded eight hours longer-making tfwenty-four in all! It was under such circumstances that Carran made his speech for Henry Sheares, one of the greatest forensic efforts ever made in any Court of law.-M. * Lord Carleton had been the intimate friend of the parents of the prisoners-(see the conclusion of the trial:)-a report even prevailed that he had been the guardian of the latter; but this, it is presumed, was incorrect.-O. 12 266 LIFE OF CURRAN. were about to suffer, and all of them rendered haggard and spectral by the dim lights that discovered them-the very presence of those midnight lights so associated in Irish minds with images of death —every thing combined to inspire the beholders, who were now enfeebled by exhaustion, with a superstitious awe, and to make the objects, amidst which the advocate rose to perform the last offices to his sinking clients,* appear not so much a reality as the picture of a strained and disturbed imagination. AMr. Curran.f-" My lord, before I address you or the jury, I would wish to make one preliminary observation. It may be an * ir. Curran was nominally counsel for only one of the prisoners: he had origin- ly been the assigned counsel for both; but before the trial commenced, at the request of John Sheares, Mr. Ponsonby was assigned one of his counsel in the room of Mr. Curran. in order to give the prisoners four counsel between them. The other two were Mr. Plunket and Mr. MI'Nally. But as the charge and evidence against both the prisoners were the same, the counsel for one was virtua'ly defending the other.-C. t That the reader may more fully comprehend the topics of hMr Curran's speech for the prisoners, the following summary of the leading articles of the evidence is inserted. The principal witness for the crown, John Warnford Armstrong, of the King's County militia, pIroved the overt-acts of high treason laid in the indictment. He swore that he was introduced by Mr. Byrne, a bookseller of Dublin, to the prisoners, who, supposing him (Armstrong) to be an United Irishman, freely communicated to him their treasonable designs. He had subsequent interviews with them at their own homes, the subjects of which he regularly reported to Colonel L'Estrange and Captain Clibborn of his own regiment, to Mr. Cooke of the Castle, and to Lord Castlereagh. Doubts having been entertained of the witness' belief in the existence of a Deity, a future state of rewards and punishments, Mr. Curran, who cross-examined him, pressed him ulpon those points. Captain Armstrong swore that he had always professed that belief, and that he had never derided the obligation of an oath. He also swore that he had never said, " that if no other person could be found to cut off the head of the King of England, that he (the witness) would do it;" and that he had never declared " that the works of Paine contained his creed." To these latter articles of Armstrong's, evidence was opposed, that of T. Dought, Esq., who swore that Armstrong, with whom he was very intimate, had frequently uttered atheistical opinions; and, with his usual calmness of manner, had spoken of the future state of the soul of man as an " eternal sleep-annihilation-non-existence." R. Briide, Esq., barrister at law, swore that he had heard Armstrong speak slightingly of the obligation of an oath. C. R. Shervington, Esq., (Lieutenant, 41st regiment, and uncle to Armstrong) swore that Armstrong had said in his presence, that if there was not another executioner in the kingdom for George the Third, he would be one, and pique himself upon it; and that upon another occasion Armstrong handed him Paine's Rights of Man, saying, "Read this, it Is my creed." TRIAL OF THE. SHEARESES. 267 observation only-it may be a request. For myself I am ~ndifferent; but I feel I am now unequal to the duty-I am sinkirg under the weight of it. We all know the character of the jury: the interval of their separation must be short, if it should be deemed lnecessary to separate them. I protest I have sunk under this trial. If I must g:0 on, the Court must bear with me;-the jury may also bear with me: —I will go on until I sink;-but, after a sitting of sixteen hours with only twenty, minutes' interval, in these times, I should hope it would not be thought an obtrusive request, to hope for a few hours' interval for repose,- or rather for recollection." Lord Carleton.-" What say you, Mr. Attorney-General.?" Mr. Attorney-General Toler.-" My lords, I feel such public inconvenience from LcdjIourring cases of this kind, that I cannot consent. The counsel for the prisoners cannot be more exhausted than those for the prosecution. If they do not.choose to speak to the evidence, we shall give up our right to speak, and leave the matter to the Court altogether. They have had two speeches already; and leaving them un ept!i1ed to is a great concession." Lord Carleton. —" We would be glad to accommodate as much as possible. I am as much ehausted as any other person; btut we think it better to go on." Mr. Curran. —" Gentlemen of the jury: it seems that much has been conceded to us.. God help us! I do not know what has been conceded to me-if so insignificant a person mav have extorted the remark. Perhaps it is a concession that I am allowed to rise in such a state of mind and body, of collapse and deprivation, as to feel but a little spark of indignation raised by the remark, that much has been conceded to the counsel for the prisoners; much has been conceded to the prisoners! Almighty and merciful God, who lookest down upon us, what are the times to which we are reserved, when we are told that much!-has been conceded to prisoners who are put upon their trial at a moment like this-of more darkness and night of the human intellect than a darkness of the natural period of twenty-four hours; that piblic convenience can 268 LrTI OF CURRAN. not spare a respite of a few hours to those who are ace sed for their lives; and that much has been conceded to the ad:vocate, almost exhausted, in the poor remark which he has endeavourcl to make upon it! "My countrymen, I do pray you, by the awful duty which you owe your country —by that sacred duty which you owe your character (and I know how you feel it) I do obtest you, by the Almighty God, to have mercy upon my client-to save him, not from the consequences of his guilt, but from the baseness of his accusers, and the pressure of the treatment under which I am sinking. With what spirit did you leave your habitations this day? In what state of mind and heart did you come here from your family? With what sentiments did you leave your children, to do an act of great public importance; to pledge yourselves at the throne of Eternal Justice, by the awful and solemn obligation of an oath, to do perfect, cool, impartial, and steady justice, between the accuser and the accused? H ave you come abroad under the idea that public fury is clamorous for blood; that you are put there under the mere formality or ceremonial of death, and ought to gratify that fury with the blood for which it seems to thirst? If you are, I have known some of you,* more than one, or two, * One of the persons on the jury to whom the observation was particularly directed, was Sir John Ferns, with whom MTr. (uorran had been long connected by habits of private friendship, and in whose society he had passed many of his happiest hours of convivial relaxationri. The following little impromptu shows, in a striking point of contrast, the different styles In which different occasions indltccd the writer to address the same individual:TO SIR JOHN FERNS. WITII A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAIGNE. This bottle I've raised from the dust, Where for many a year it had lain, In hope that one day with the just It might rise and might sparkle again. And now, my dear Sir John, I send This type of good tidings to come, That the grave-digger's empire must end, And his prisooners get loose from the tomb. J. P. O. TRLAL OF THE SHEARESES. 269 or three, in some of those situations, where the human heart speaks its honest sentiments. I think I ought to know you well; you ought to know me; and there are some of you who ought to listen to what so obscure an individual may say, not altogether without some degree of personal confidence and respect. I will not solicit your attention, by paying the greatest compliment which man can pay to man; but I hold you in regard as being worthy of it; I will speak such language as I would not stoop to hold if I did not think you worthy of it. Gentlemen, I will not be afraid of beginning with what some mayv think I should avoid, the disastrous picture which you must have met upon your way to this court. A more artful advocate might endeavour to play with you, in supposing you to possess a degree of pity and of feeling beyond that of any other human being. But I, gentlemen, am not afraid of beginning by warning you against those prejudices which all must possess; by speaking strongly against them; by striking upon the string, if not strong enough to snap it, I will wvake it intlo vibration. Unless you make an exertion beyond the power almost of men to make, you are not fit to try this cause. You may preside at such an execution as the witness would extol himself for,* at the sentence flow~ing from a very short inquiry into reason. But you are not fit to discharge the awful trust of honest men coming into the box, indifferent as they stood unswormn, to pronounce a verdict of death and infamy, or of existence and of honour. You have only the interval between this * Captain Armstrong, the witness in this case, having been questioned by Mr. Curran regarding the death of two countrymen, replied, " We were going up Blackmore Hill, under Sir James Duff; there was a party of rebels there. We met three men with green cockades: one we shot-another we hanged-and the third we flogged and made a guide of." Thomas Drought, Esq., (one of the witnesses for the prisoners) gave in evidence a, conversation which he had held with Armstrong, respecting this transaction. " I asked him, (said Mr. Dought) how he could possibly reconcile it to himself to deprive those wretches of life, without even the formn of a trial. He acknowledged that he did so. I asked him whether he expected any punishment for it; and though he did not expect itfrom Government, yet that there was an all-powerful Being who would punish him. He said,'You knew my opinion long ago upon this subject."' This was the execution to which Mr. Curran above alluded-l. 270 LIFE OF CURRMA. and pronouncing your verdict to reflect; and the other interval, when you aro resigning up your last breath, between your verdict and your grave, when you lament that you did not as you ought. "Do you think I want to flatter your passions? I would scorn myself for it. 1 want to address your reason; to call upon your conscience; to remind you of your oaths, and the consequence of that verdict, which upon- the law' and the fact, you must give between the accuser and the accused. Part of what I shall say must of necessity be addressed to the Court, for it is a matter of law. But upon this subject, every observation in point of law is so inseparably blended with the fact, that I cannot pretend to say that I can discharge your attention, gentlemen, even when I address the Court. On the contrary I shall the more desire your attention, not so much that you may understand what I shall say, as what the Court -shal:ll say. "Gentlemen, this indictment is founded upon the statute 25 Ed. III. The statute itself begins with a melancholy observation upon the proneness to deterioration, which has been found in all countries, unfortunately, to take place in- their criminal law, particularly in the' law respecting hfigh Treason. The statute begins with reciting, that, in the uncertainty of adjudications, it became difficult to know what was treason, and what was not: and, to remove further difficulty, it professes to declare all species of treason that should thereafter be so considered; and, by thus regulating the law, to secure the state and the constitution, and the persons of those interested in the executive departments of the government, from the common acts of violence that might be used to their destruction. The three first clauses of the statute seem to have gone a great way indeed upon the subject; because the object of the provisions was to protect the person; and I beg of you to understand what I mean by person-I mean the natural person; I mean no figure of speech-not the monarch in the abstract, but the natural man; the first clause was made without TRIAL OF THE SIEARESES. 271 the smallest relation to the executive power, but solely to the natural body and person. The words are,'When a man doth compass or imagine the death of the king, or of our lady his queen, or their eldest son and heir, and thereof be of sufficient proof attained of open deed by men of his condition, he shall be a traitor.' This, I say, relates only to the natural person of the king. The son and heir of the king is mentioned in the same manner; but he has no power, and therefore a compassing his death must mean the death of his natural person; and so must it be in the case of the king. To conceive the purpose of destroying a common subject was once a felony of death; and that was expressed in the same language, compassing and imagining the death of the subject. It was thought right to dismiss that severe rigour of the law in the case of the subject; but it was thought right to continue it in the case of the king, in contradistinction to all the subjects within the realm. "The statute, after describing the persons, describes what shall be evidence of that high and abominable guilt; it must appear by open deed —the intention of the guilty heart must be proved by evidence of the open deed coa-mmitted towards the accomplishment of the design. Perhaps in the hurry of speaking-perhaps from the mistakes of reporters; sometimes fiom one, and sometimes from the other, judges are too often made to say that such or such an overt act is, if proved to have been committed, ground upon which the jury must fihad the party guilty of the accusation. I must deny the position, not only in the reason of the thing, but:I am fortified by the ablest writers upon the law of treason. In the reason of the thing; because the design entertained, and the act done, are matters for the jury. Whether a party compassed the king's death or not, is miuatter for the jury; and, therefore, if a certain fact be, proved, it is nonsense to say that such a conclusion must follow; because a conclusion of law would then be pronounced by the jury, not by the court. I am warranted in this by the writers cited by Mr. Justice Foster; and therefore, gentlemen 272 f.LIFE OF CURRAN. upon the first count in the indictment you are to decide a plain matter of fact: 1st, Wvhether the prisoner did compass and imagine the death of the king? or whether there be any act proved, or apparent means taken, which he resorted to for the perpetration of that crime? Upon this subject many observations have already been made bef-re me. I will take the liberty of making one: I do not know whether it has been made before. Even in a case where the overt act stated has of its own nature gone to the person of the king, still it is left to the jury to decide whether it was done with the criminal purpose alleged or not? In Russel's case there was an overt act of the conspiracy to seize the guards; natural consequence threatened from an act of gross violence so immediately approaching the king's person, might, fairly be said to affect his lifts; but still it was left to the jury to decide whether that was done for the purpose of compassing the king's death. I mention this, because I think it a strong answer to those kinds of expressions, which in bad times fall from the mouths of prosecutors, neither law nor poetry, but sometimes half metaphysical. Laws may be enacted in the spirit of sound policy, and supported by superior reason; but when only half considered, and their pro. visions half enumerated, they become the plague of government, and the grave of principle. It is that kind of refinement and cant which overwhelmed the law of treason, and brought it to a metaphysical death; the laws are made to pass through a contorted understanding, vibratory and confused; alnd therefore, after a small interval from the first enaction of any law in Great Britain, the dreams of fancy get around, and the law is lost in the mass of absurd comment. Hence it was, that the statute gave its awful declarations to those glossarists, so that if any case should arise, apparently within the statute, they were not to indulge themselves in conjecture, but refer to the standard, and abide by the law as marked out for them. Therefore, I say, that the issue for the jury here is to decide, in the words of the statute, whether the prisoners " did compass the death of the king," and whether they can TRliAL Ok' ilIE SHEAR1iSES. 273 say, upon their oaths, that there is any overt act proved. in evidence, manifesting an intention of injury to the natural person of the king. " I know that the semblance of authority may be used to contradiet me. If any man can reconcile himself to the miserable toil of poring over the records of guilt, he will find them marked, not in black, but in red, the blood of some unfortunate men, leaving the marks of folly, barbarity, and tyranny. But I am glad that men, who in some situations, appear not to have had the pulse of honest compassion, have made sober reflections in the hour of political disgrace. Such has been the fate of Lord Coke; who, in the triumlph and insolence of power, pursued a conduct, which, in the hour of calm retreat he regretted in the language of sorrow and disappointment. He then held a language which I willingly repeat,' that a conspiracy to levy war was no act of compassing the murder of the king.' There he spoke the language of law and good sense; for a man shall not be charged with one crime, and convicted of another. It is a narrow and a cruel policy to make a conspiracy to levy war an act of compassing the king's death, because it is a separate and distinct offence; because it is calling iupon the honest affections of the heart, and creating those pathetical eflfusions which confound all distinct principles of law, a grievance not to be borne in a state where the laws ought to be certain. " This reasoning is founded upon the momentary supposition that the evidence is true, for you are to recollect the quarter fi-om whence it comes: there has been an attempt, by precipitate confession, to transfer guilt to innocence, in order to escape the punishment of the law. Here, gentlemen, there is evidence of levying war, which act, it is said, tends to the death of the king. Talat is a constructive treason, calculated as a trap for the loyalty of a jury, therefore you should set bounds to proceedings of that kind; for it is an abuse of the law to make one class of offence, sufficiently punished already, evidence of another. Every court, and every jury, should set themselves against crimes, when they come to 274 LIFE OF CURRAN. determine upon distinct and specified guilt; but they are not to encourage a confilsion of crimes by disregarding the distinction of punishments, nor to show the effusion of their loyalty by an effusion of blood.' I cannot, but say, that when cases of this kind have been under judgmnent in Westminster Hall, there was some kind of natural reason to excuse this confusion in tile reports-the propriety of making the person of the.king secure,: a war immediately adjoining the precincts of the palace-a riot in London-might endanger the life of the king. lBut can the same law prevail in every part of the British empire? It may be an overt act of: compassing the king's death to levy war in Great Britain but can it be so in Jamaica, in the Bahama Islands, or in Corsica, when it was annexed to the British empire? Suppose at that time a man had been indicted therefor compassing the king's death, and the evidence was that he intended to transfer the dominion of the island to the Genoese or the French; what would you.say, if you were told that was an act by which he intended to murder the king? By seizing Corsica he was to murder the king! How can there be any immediate attempt upon the king's life by such a proceedings It is not possible, and therefore no such consequence can be probably inferred; and therefore I call upon you to listen to the court with iespect; but I also call upon you to listen to common sense, and to consider whether the conspiring to raise war in this country be an overt act of compassing the king's death in this country.* I will go further. If the statute of Edward III. had been conceived to make a conspiracy to levy war an over act of compassing * This point was strongly urged by Mr. Ponsonby, counsel for John Sheares, and by Mr. Curran's colleague, -Mr. Plunket; but the Court decided that it was untenable. The Prime Serjeant observed upon it with nlore zeal than logical consistency: —" It was for thips day reserved to broach the alai-ming and monstrous position.. I trust in God that the authority of such opinions has not gone abroad;. and that the rebellion, which has for some time ravaged the country, has not been matured by such a doctrine." Lord Carleton, instead of countenancing so absurd an insinuation against the counsel, answeied their-arguments in the language o.'f compliment and respect.-C. TRIAL OF THE SIIEARESES. 275 the king's dcoath, it would be unnecessary to make it penal by any subsequent statute; and yet subsequent statutes were enacted for that purpose, which I consider an unanswerable argument, that it was not considered as cominlg within the purview of the clause against compassing the king's death. Now, gentlemen, you will be pleased tc consider what was the evidence brought forward to support the indictment. I do not think it necessary to exhaust your attention by stating at la(rge the evidence given by Captain Arlllstrong. He gave an account which we shall have occasion to examine with regard to its credibi. itv. He stated his introduction, first, to Mr. Henry Sheares, afterwa.ards to his brother; and he stated a conversation, which you do not forget, so strange has it been! But, in the whole course of his evidence, so far from making any observation, or saying a word of connexion with the power at war with the king, he expressly said, that the insurrection, by whomsoever prepared, or by w-hat infatuation encouraged, was to be a hotme exertion, indepetle-erit of any foreign interference, whatever. And, therefore, I ant wNa rlanted in saying, that such an insurrection does not comne wi;thin the first clause of the statute. It cannot come within the secondl, of adhering to the king's enenies, because that means his foreign enemies; and here, so far from any intercourse widh them, they were totally disregarded. " Adhering to the king's enemies means co-operating with them, sending them provisions, or intelligence, or supplying them with arms. But I venture to say, that there has not been any one case, deciding that any act can be an adherence to a foreign enemy, which was not calculated for the advantage of that enemy. In the case of Jaclson, Hensey, and Lord Preston, the-parties had gone as far as they could in giving assistance. So it was in Quigley's. But, in addlition to this, I must repeat, that it is utterly unnecessary that the law should be otherwise, for levying war is of itself a crimle; therefore it is unnecessary, by a strained constrlction, to say, that'evying war, or conspiring to levy war, 276 LIFE OF CURRAN. should come within any other.clause equally penal, but not so descriptive. "But, gentlemen, suppose I am mistaken in both points of my argument-suppose the prisoners (if the evidence were true) did compass the king's death, and adhere to the king's enemies: what are you to found your verdict upon? Upon your oaths: what are they to be founded upon? Upon the oath of the witness: and what is that founded upon?-upon this, and this only-that he does believe there is an eternal God, an intelligent supreme existence, capable of inflicting eternal punishment for offences, or conferring eternal compensation upon man after he has passed the boundary of the grave. But where the witness believes that he is possessed of a perishing soul, and that there is nothing upon which punishment or reward can be exerted, he proceeds, regardless of the number of his offences, and undisturbed by the terrors of exhausted fancy, which might save you from the fear that your verdict is founded upon peijury. Suppose he imagines that the body is actuated by some kind of animal mlachinery-I know not in what language to describe his notions-suppose his opinion of the beautiful system framed by the almighty hand to be, that it is all folly and blindness compared to the manner in which he considers himself to have tbeen created-or his abominable heart conceives his ideas, or his tongue communicates his notions; —suppose him, I say, to think so-what is peljury to him? He needs no creed, if he thinks hisn miserable body can take eternal refuge in the grave, and the last puff of his nostrils can send his soul into annihilation! He laughs at the idea of eternal justice, and tells you, that the grave, into which he sinks as a log, forms an intrenchment against the throne of God and the vengeance of exasperated justice! "Do you not feel, my fellow-countrymen, a sort of anticipated consolation in reflecting upon the religion which gave us comfort in our early days, enabled us to sustain the stroke of affliction, and endeared us to one another; and, when we see our friends sinking CHARAOTER OF ARMSTRONG. 2 A into the earth, fills us with the expectation that we rise againthat we but sleep for a while to wake for ever. But what kind of communion can you hold-what interchange expect-what confidence place in that abject slave-that condemned, despaired-of wretch, who acts under the idea that he is only the folly of a moment-that he cannot step beyond the threshold of the grave -that that, which is an object of terror to the best, and of hope to the confiding, is to him contempt or despair l "Bear with me, my countrymen; I feel my heart running away with me-the worst men only can be cool. What is the law of this country? If the witness does not believe in God, or a future state, you cannot swear him. What swear him upon? Is it upon the book or the leaf? You might as well swear him by a bramble or a coin. The ceremony of kissing is only the external synmbol by which man seals himself to the precept, and says,' May God so help me, as I swear the truth.' He is then attached to the Divinity upon the condition of telling the truth; and he expects mercy froni Heaven, as he performs his undertaking But the infidel! By what can you catch his soul? or by what can you hold it? You repulse him from giving evi(lence; fotlr ho has no conscience —no hope to cheer him-no punis-hmlent to drad!'. Wihat is the evidence tovuahing tliat unfortunate young nmanl Whliat said his own relation, Nt.. Shervington? He lad talked to him freely-had known him long. What kind of character did he give of him? Paine was his creed and his philosophy. He had drawn his maxims of politics from the vulgar and furious anarchy broached by Mr. Paine. His ideas of religion were adopted from the vulgar maxims of the same man-the scandal of inquiry-the blasphemer of his God as of his king. He bears testimony against himself, that he submitted to the undertaking of reading both his abominable tracts-that abominabhe abomination of all abominations, Paine's'Age of Reason;' who professes to teach mankind, by acknowledging that he did not learn himself! Why not swear the witness upon the vulgar 278 LIFE OF CURRAN. maxims of that base fellow, that wretched outlaw and fugitive fromn his country and his God? Is it not lamentable to see a man labouring under an incurable disease, and fond of his own blotches?'Do you wish,' says he,'to know nuy sentiments with regard to politics? I have learned them from Paine! I do not love a kiing; and, if no other executioner could be found, I would myself plunge a dagger into the heart of George III., because he is a king. And because he is my king, I swear, by the sacred missal of Paine, I would think it a meritorious thing to plunge a dagger into his heart, or whom I had devoted a soul which Mr. Paine savs I have not to lend.' Is this the casual efifulsion of a giddy young man, not considering the meaning of what he said? If it were said among a parcel of boarding-school misses, where he might think he was giving a specimen of his courage, by nobly denying religion, there might be some excuse. There is a latitude assumed upon some such occasions. A little blasphemy and a little obscenity passes for wit in some companies. But recollect it was not to a little miss, whom he wished to astonish, that he mentioned these sentiments, but to a kinsman, a man of that b.-ilin- loyaltv. I confess I did not approve of his conduct in the abstract, talking- of running a man through the body;* but I admired the honest boldness of the soldier who expressced his indignation in such warm language. If Mr. Shervington swore truly, Captain Armstrong must be a forsworn witness-it comes to that simple point.' You cannot put it upon other ground. I put it to your good sense-I am not playing with your understandings-I am putting foot to foot, and credit to credit. One or other of the two must be peijured: which of them is it? If you disbelieve Captain Armstrong, can you find a verdict of blood upon his evidence? * This alludes to a part of Mr. Shervington's testimony. "I met Captain Clibborn, and told him I was sorry to find that John Armstrong was finding the secrets of men, in order to discover them. He told me it was a different thing-that the Sheareses wanted to seduce him from his allegiance.'Damn himl' said I,'he should have run them through the body.'" A PRovER.m 279 "Gentlemen, I go further. I know your horror of crimesyour warmth of loyalty. They are — among the reasons why I respect and regard Vou. I ask you, then, will you reject such a witnes-? or would you dismiss the friend you regarded, or the child you loved, upon: the evidence of such a witness? Suppose him to tell his own story.' I went to your friend or your childI addressed milyself in the garb of friendship, in the smile of confidence, in order to betray it. I traduced you-spoke all the evil I could against you, to inflame him. I told him your father does not love you.' If he went to you, and told you this —that he inflamed your child, and abused you to your friend, and said,'I come now to increase it, by the horror of superadded cruelty,' twould you dismiss from your love or affection the child or the friend you loved for years? You would not prejudge them. You would examine the consistency of the man's story; you would listen to it with doubt, and receive it with hesitation. "Says Captain Armstrong, Byrne was my bookseller; from him I bought my little study of blasphemy and obscenity, with which I amused. myself.-' Shall I introduce Mr. Sheares to you?'-not saying which. What was done then? - He thought it was not right till he saw Captain Clibborn. Has he stated any reason why lie supposed Mr. Sheares had any wish at all to. be introduced to him? any reason for supposing that Byrne's principles were of that kind? or any reason why he imagined the intercourse was to lead to any thing improper? It is most material that he says he never spoke to Byrne upon political subjects: therefore he knew 1.othing of Byrne's principles, nor Byrne of his. But the proposal was made; and he was so alarmed, that he would not give an answer until he saw his captain. Is not this incredible? There is one circumstance which made an impression upon my mind, that he assumed the part of a public informer; and, in the first instance, came to the field with pledgets and bandages. lie was scarcely off the table when a witness came to his credit. It is the first time theat I saw a witness taking fright at his own credit, and sending wo a pers )n to justifyi his own character. 280 LIFE OF CUJRRA. "Consider how he has fortified it. He told it all to Captain Clibborn! He saw him every evening, when he returned, like a bee, with his thighs loaded with evidence. What is the defence? that the witness is unworthy of belief. My clients say their lives are not to be touched by such a man: he is found to be an informer; he marks the victim. You know the world too well, not to know that every falsehood is reduced to a certain degree of malleability by an alloy of truth. Such stories as these are not pure and simple falsehoods. Look at your Oateses, your Bedloes, and Dugdales! I am disposed to believe, shocking as it is, that this witness had the heart, when he was surrounded by the little progeny of my client; when he was sitting in the mansion in which he was hospitably entertained; when he saw the old mother, supported by the piety of her son, and the children basking in the parental fondness of the father' that he saw the scene, and smiled at it; contemplated the havoc he was to make, consigning them to the storms of a miserable world, without having an anchorage in the kindness of a father!* Can such horror exist, and not waken the rooted vengeance of an eternal God? But it cannot reach this man beyond the grave; therefore I uphold him here. I can imagine it, gentleinn; because when the mind becomes destitute of the principles of morality and religion, all within the miserable being is left a black and desolated waste, never cheered by the rays of tenderness and humanity; when the belief of eternal justice is gone from the soul of man, horror and execution may set up their abode; I can believe that the witness (with what view I cannot say; with what hope I cannot conjecture; you may) did meditate the consigning of these two men to death, their children to beggary and reproach; abusing the hospitality with which he was received, that he might afterwards come here and crown his * The writer of this is assured, by a gentleman now in Dublin, and who is free from any political zeal which could induce him to invent or distort a fact, that, upon his dining one day at the house of Henry Sheares, immediately before his arrest, he observed Arrnstronig, who was one of the guests, taking his entertainer's little children upon his knee, and, it was then thought, affectionately caressing them.-C. [Armstrong strongly denied this accusation.l-M. ARMSTRONG S EVIDENCE. 281 work, having first obtained the little spark of truth, by which his mass of falsehood was to be put into animation. "I have talked of the inconsistency of the story. Do you believe it, gentlemen? The case of my client is, that the witness is perjured; and you are appealed to, in the name of that ever living God whom you revere, but whom he despiseth, to consider that there is something to save him from the baseness of such an accuser. "But I go back to the testimony. I may wander from it; but it is my duty to stay with it. Says he,'Byrne makes an imnportant application: I was not accustomed to it; I never spoke to him; and yet he, with whom I had no connexion, introduces me to Sheares. This is a true brother.' You see, gentlemen, I state this truly: he never talked to Byrne about politics; how could Byrne know his principles? by inspiration i He was to know the edition of the man as he knew the edition of books.' You may repose all confidence.' I ask not is this true; but I say it can be nothing else than false. I do not ask you to say it is doubtful; it is a case of blood; of life or death. And you are to add to the terrors of a painful death the desolation of a family, overwhelming the aged with sorrow, and the young with infamy! Gentlemen, I should disdain to trifle with you; I am pinning your minds down to one point, to show you to demonstration that nothing can save your minds from the evidence of such perjury; not because you may think it false, but because it is impossible it can be true. I put into the scales of justice that execrable perjury; and I put into the other the life, the fame, the fortune, the children of my client. Let not the balance tremble as you hold it: and, as you hold it now, so may the balance of eternal justice be held for vou. "But is it upon his inconsistency only I call upon you to reject him? I call in aid the evidence of his own kinsman, Mr. Shervington, and Mr. Drought; the evidence of Mr. Bride, and Mr. Graydon, Before you can believe Armstrong, you must believe that all 282 LIFE OF CURRAN. these are peljured. What are his temptations to perjury? the hope of bribery and reward: and he did go up with his sheets of paper in his hand here is one: it speaks treason; here is another: the accu. ed grows paler; here is a third: it opens another vein. Had Shervington any temptation of that kind? No: let not the honest and genuine soldier lose the credit of it. He has paid a great compliment to the proud integrity of the King his master, when he did venture, at a time like this, to give evidence,'I would not have come for a hundred guineas!'* I could not refuse the effusion of my heart, and avoid exclaiming,'May the blessings of G(od pour upon you; and may you. never want a hundred guineas!' "There is another circumstance. I think I saw it strike vour attention, my lords. It was the horrid tale of the three peasants whom he met upon the road: they had no connexion with the rebels. If they had, they were open to a summary proceeding. He hangs up one, shoots a second, and administers torture to the body of the third in order to make him give evidence.' Why, my lords, did you feel nothing stir within you?- Our adjudications have condemned the application of torture for the extraction of evidence. When. a wild and furious assassin had made a deadly attempt upon a life of much public consequence, it was proposed to put him to the torture in order to discover his accomplices. I scarcely know whether:to admire most the awful and impressive lesson given by Felton, or the doctrine stated -by the judges of the land.'No,' said he,' put me not to the torture; for, in the extravaigance of my pain, I may be brought to accuse yourselves.' What say the judges? -' It is not allowable, by the law and constitution of England, to inflict torture upon any man, or to extract evidence under the coercion of personal sufferings.' Apply that to this case; if * When Mr. Shervington was asked, upon his cross-examination by the counsel for the Crown, " if he had not kindly come forward, upon hearing that Captain Armstrong was to be a witness against the Sheareses," he answered, " No: I was summoned. I would not havte appeared for a hundred guineas." —C. WIrTTEN EVIDENCE. 253 the unfortunate man did himself dread the application of such an engine for the extraction of evidence, let it be an excuse for his degradation, that he sought to avoid the pain of body, by public infa-my. But there is another observation more applicable: says Mr. Drought,'Had you no feeling, or do you think you will escape future vengeance l.'' h i sir, I thought you knew my ideas too well to talk in that way. Merciful God! do you think it is upon the evidence of such a man that you ought to -consign a fellow subject to death? Ile who would halng up a miserable peasant to gratify caprlice, could laughlt at relmonstl'rane, and say, I'yoit kniow ny ideas of futurity.' If he thought o:little of mtrdering a fellow creature without trial, and without ceremony, what kind of compunction can he feel within himself when you are made the instruments of,his savage barbarity? He kills a miserable wretch, looking-perhaps for bread for his children, and who falls unaccused and uncondemned. What compunction can he feel at sacrificing other victims, when he considers death as eternal sleep, and the darkness of annihilation? These victims are at this monment led out to public execution; he has marked them for the grave; he will not bewail the object of his- own work-;: they are passing through the vale of death, while he is dozing over the expectancy of mortal annihilation. "Gentlemen, I ant too weak to follow the line of observation I had made; but I trust I am warranted in saying, that if you weigh the evidence, the balance will be in favour of the prisoners. "IBut there is another topic or- two to which I must solicit your attention. If I liad been stronger, in a common case I would not have said so much; weak as I am, here I must say more. It mnay be said that the parol evidence may be put out of the case; that, attribute the conduct of Armstrong to folly, or passion, or whatever else you please, you may safely repose upon the written evidence.'This clls for an observation or two. As to Mr. Henry Sheares, that written evidence,* even if the hand-writing were fully proved, * This written evidence was an address to the United Irishmen, in the hand-writing of John Sheares.-O. 284 LIFE OF CURRAN. does not apply to him: I do not say it was not admissible. The writings of Sidney, found in his closet, were read; justly according to some; but I do not wish to consider that now. But I say the evidence of Mr. Dwyer has not satisfactorily established the handwriting of John. I do not say it is not proved to a certain extent, but it is proved in the very slightest manner that you ever saw paper proved; it is barely evidence to go to you, and the witness might be mistaken. An unpublished writing cannot be an overt act of treason; so it is laid down expressly by Hale and Foster. A number of cases have occurred, and decisions have been pronounced, asserting that writings are not overt acts, for want of publication; but' they plainly relate to an overt act proved, they may be left to the jury for their consideration. But here it has no reference to the overt act laid; it could not have been intended for publication until after the unfortunate event of revolution had taken place, and therefore it could not be designed to create insurrection. Gentlemen, I am not counsel for Mr. John Sheares, but I would be guilty of cruelty if I did not make another observation. This might be an idle composition, or the translation of idle absurdity from the papers of another country; the manner in whichl it was found leads me to think that the more probable.'A writing designed for such an event as charged would hardly be left in a writing-box, unlocked, in a room near the hall door. The manner of its finding also shows two things; that Henry Sheares knew nothing of it, for he had an opportunity of destroying it, as Alderman Alexander said he had; and further, that he could not have imagined his brother had such a design; and it is impossible, if the paper had been designed for such purposes, that it would not be communicated to him. "There is a point to which I will beseech the attention of your Lordships. I know your humanity, and it will not be applied. merely because I am exhausted or fatigued. You have only olne witness to any overt act of treason. There is no decision upon the point in this country.* Jackson's case was the first: Lord Clon* This is not correct: it was the unanimous opinion of the three judges of the Court oa EVIDENCE ON TREASON. 285 mel made an allusion to the point; but a jury ought r ot to find guilty upon the testimony of a single witness. It is the opinion of Foster, that by the common law, one witness, if believed, was sufficient. Lord Coke's opinion is that two were necessary. They are great names; no man looks upon the works of Foster with more veneration than myself, and I would not compare him with the depreciated credit of Coke; I would rather leave Lord Coke to the character which Foster gives him; that he was one of the ablest lawyers, independent of some particulars, that ever existed in England. In the wild extravagance, heat, and cruel reigns of the Tudors, such doctrines of treason had gone abroad as drenched the kingdom with blood. By the construction of crown lawyers and the shameful complaisance of juries, many sacrifices had been made, and therefore it was necessary to prune away these excesses by the stat. of Edward VI., and therefore there is every reason to imagine, from the history of the times, that Lord Coke was right in saying, that not by new statute, but by the common law, confirmed and redeemed by declaratory acts, the trials were regulated. A law of Philip and Mary was afterwards enacted; some think it was a repeal of the stat. of Edward VI., some think not. I mention this diversity of opinions with this view, that in this country, upon a new point of that kind, the weight of criminal prosecution will turn the scale in favour of the prisoner; and that the court will be of opinion that the stat. 7 William III. did not enact any new thing unknown to the common law, but redeemed it from abuse. Wrhat was the state of England? The king had been declared to have abdicated the throne: prosecutions, temporising juries, and the arbitrary construction of judges, condemned to the scaffold those who were to protect the Crown; men who knew, that, after the destruction of the cottage, the palace was endangered. It was not, then, the enaction of anything new; it was founded in the caution of the times, and derived from the maxims of the constiKing's Bench, before whom Jackson was tried, that in Ireland two witnesses were not neeaesary in cases of High Treason.-See Jackson's Trial.-O. [It is altered now. —M.] 286 LIFE OF CURRAN. tution. I know the peevishness with which Burnet observed upon that statute. He is reprehended in a modest manner by Foster. But what says Blackstone, of great authority, of the clearest head and the profoundest reading? He differs from Montesquieu, the French philosopher. "'In cases of treason there is the accused's oath of allegiance to counterpoise the information of a single witness; and that may, perhaps, be one reason why the law requires a double testinmony to convict him: though the principal reason, undoubtedly, is to secure the subject from being sacrificed to fictitious conspiracies, which have been the engines of profligate and crafty politicians in all ages.' * "Gentlemen, I do not pretend to say that you are bound by an Enghlsh act of parliament. You may condemn upon the testimony of a single witness. You, to be sure, are too proud to listen to the wisdom of an English law. Illustrious independents! You may murder under the semblance of judicial forms, because you are proud of your blessed independence! You pronounce that to be legally done which would be murder in England, because you are proud! You may imbrue; your hands in blood, because you are too proud to be bound by a foreign act of parliament: and when vou are to look for what is to save you firom the abuse of arbitrary power, you will not avail yourself of it, because it is: a foreign act of parliament! Is that the independence of an Irish jurly? Do I see the heart of any Englishman move when I say to him,'Thou servile Briton, you cannot condemn upon the perjuryl of a single witness, because you are held in -the tight waistcoat of the cogency of an act of parliament.? If power seeks Jto make victims by judicial means, an act of parliament would save you from the perjury of abominable malice. Talk not of proud slavery to law, but lament that you are bound by the integrity and irresistible strength of right reason; and, at the next step, bewail that the all* 4 Blackstone's Commentaries, 858. TRIAL OF THE SHEARESES. 287,(owerful Author of nature has bound himself in the illus'rious servitude of his attributes, which prevent him thinking what!s not true, or doing what is not just.' Go, then, and enjoy your independence. At the other side of the water your verdict, upon the testimony of a single witness, would be murder. But here you can murder without reproach, because there is no act of parliaiment to bind you to the ties of social life, and save the accused firomn the breath of a perjured informer. In, England a jury could not pronounce a conviction upon the testimony of the purest rnman, if he stood alone; and-yet.what comparison can that case bear with a blighted and marred informer, where every word is proved to be perjury, andt every word turns back upon his soul? "I am reasoning for your country and your children, to the hour of your dissolution: let me not reason in vain. I amn not playing the advocate: you know I am not. I put this case to tbhe bench: the stat. 7 W. 3 does not bind this country by its legislative cogency; and will you declare positively, and without doubt, that it is common law, or enacting, a new one' Will you say it has no weight to influence the condact, of a jury from the aulthority of a great and exalted nation? the orly nation in Europe where Liberty has seated herself. Do not imagine that the man who praises Liberty is singing an idle song: for a moment it may be the song' of a b)ird in his cage: I know it may. But you are now stand(inlg ulpon an awful isthmus, a little neck of land, where Libertvy lbas found a seat. Look:about you-look at the state of the country-the tribunals that dire necessity has intloduced. Look at tills dawn of law, admitting the functions of a jlry. I feel a comlnfort. Methinks I see the venerable forms of I Jolt and HIale looking down upon us, attesting its countenance. Is' it your opinion that bloody verdicts are necessary-that bllood enough has not been shed-,-that the bonds of society are not to be drawn close again, nor the scattered fragments of oulr strength bollud together to muake them of force; but that they are to be left in that scattered state, in which every little child may break them to 288 LIFE OF CURRAN. pieces? You will do more towards tranquillizing the country by a verdict of mercy. Guard yourselves against the sanguinary excesses of prejudice or revenge; and, though you think there is a great call for public justice, let no unmerited victim fall. "Gentlemen, I have tired you. I durst not relax. The danger of nly client is from the hectic of the moment, which you have fortitude, I trust, to withstand. In that belief, I leave him to you; and, as you deal justice and mercy, so may you find it. And 1 hope that the happy compensation of an honest discharge of your duty may not be deferred till a future existence-which this witness [Armstrong] does not expect-but that you may speedily enjoy the benefits you will have conferred upon your country."* It was between seven and eight o'clock, on the morning of the 13th of July, when the jury retired to consider their verdict. After the deliberation of a few minutes, they returned it, finding both the prisoners guilty. As soon as the verdict was pronounced, the unfortunate brothers clasped each other in their arms. They were brought up for judgment at three o'clock on the same day upon which occasion, they both addressed the court. Henry, who had a numerous family, was proceeding to request a short respite; but, when he came to mention his wife and chil-'lren, be was so overwhelmed with tears, that he found it impossible to go on. His brother spoke with more firmness, and at more length. He began by strenuously disavowing the sanguinary intentions that had been imputed to him in consequence of the unpubllllished address to the insurgents which had been found in his handwriting, and produced in evidence against him. "The accusation," said he, " of which I speak, while I linge: here yet a few minutes, is'that of holding out to the people of Ireland a * The Prime-Sergeant replied for the Crown. Henry Sheares, who was then allowed to say a few words, strongly denied all knowledge of the paper found in his desk, and asked was it likely that, having the dearest sources of happiness around him, he should sacrifice them and himself by leaving such a document in an open writing.box? Lord Carleton charged the jury, the two other judges concurring, and the eirdict was returned after a.eliberation of seventeen n minutes.-M. JOHNi SHEARES'S APPEAL. 289 direction to give no quarter to the troops fighting for its defence.' I cannot only acquit my soul of such an intention, but I declare, in the presence of that God before whom I must shortly appear, that the favourite doctrine of my heart was-that no human being should suffer death, but where absolute necessity required it." After having spoken for a considerable time to the same effect, he proceeded. "Now, my lords, I have no favour to ask of the Court. My country has decided that I am guilty; and the law says that I shall suffer. It sees that I am ready to suffer. But, my lords, I have a favour to request of the Court that does not relate to myself. I have a brother, whom I have ever loved dearer than myself;-but it is not from any affection for him alone that I am induced to make the request; he is a man, and therefore, I hope prepared to die, if he stood as I do-though I do not stand unconnected; but he stands more dearly connected. In short, my lords, to spare your feelings and my own, I do not pray that I should not die; but that the husband, the father, the brother, and the son, all comprised in one person, holding these relations, dearer in life to him than any man I know; for such a man I do not pray a pardon, for that is not in the power of the Court, but I pray a respite for such a time as the Court, in its humanity and discretion, shall think proper. You have heard, my lords, that his private affairs require arrangement. I have a further room for asking it. If immediately both of us be taken off, an aged and reverend mother, a dear sister, and the most affectionate wife that ever lived, and six children will be left without protection or provision of any kind. When I address myself to your lordships, it is with the knowledge you will have of all the sons of our aged mother being gone: two perished in the service of the king, one very recently. I only request, that, disposing of me with what swiftness either the public mind or justice requires, a respite may be given to my brother, that the family may acquire strength to bear it all. That is all I wish. I shall remember it to my last breath; ana I will offer up my 13 290 LIFE OF CUR2RAN. prayers for you to that Being who has endued us all with sensibility to feel. This is all I ask." To this affecting appeal, Lord Carleton replied: " In the awful duty imposed on me, no man can be more sensibly affected than I am, because I knew the very valuable and respectable father and mother from whom you are both descended. I knew and revered their virtues. One of them, happily for himself, is now no more: the other, for whom I have the highest personal respect, probably, by the events of this day, may be hastened into futurity. It does not rest with us, after the conviction which has taken place, to hold out mercy —that is for another place; and I am afraid, in the present situation of public affairs, it will be difficult to grant even that indulgence which you, John Sheares, so pathetically request for your brother. With respect to the object of your soliciting time for your brother, unfortunately it could be of no use; because, by the attainder, he will forfeit all his property, real and personal: nothing to be settled will remain." His lordship then, after some preliminary observations, pronounced sentence of death upon- the prisoners; and, at the prayer of the attorney-general, directed that it should be executed on the succeeding day.* * A few hours before his execution, Henry Sheares wrote a letter to Mr. (afterwards Sir Jonah) Barrington, a facsimile of which is to be found in the latter's " Historic Anecdotes of tle Legislative Uniion between Great Britain and Ireland." Barrington says: "There never was a more affecting picture of a feeling, agonized mind, at the approach of a violent death; than is this facsimile. Had but three hours been granted for the unhappy culprit's preparation for his fate, he wor d have been respited. Lord Clare was disposed to act with great humanity towards this imiable, but misguided man, having discovered that he was utterly ignorant of the sanguinary proclamation, which was found in his secretaire-he had never seen it." In Henry Sheares' letter, he besought Barrington to fly to the Lord Chancellor-" Ah, save a man whose fate will kill his fanmily!"-to tell the Chancellor that he would pray for him for ever, " and that the Govern.ssent shall everfind me What they ovish," —that the papers found in his office he knew nothing of-that he had been duped, misled, deceived-that he never was for violence —that his whole happiness was centred in his family, "with them 1 will go to America, if the Government will allow me; or that I will stay here, and be the most zealousf'riend they have," and would be under any conditions the Government might choose to impose on him, if they would but restore him to his family. This letter is dated 8 o'clock, but did not reach Barrington JOHN' SHEAHRES'S FAREWELL. 291 The following is a copy of Mr. John Sheares' farewell letter to his fan ily. It is addressed to his sister, to whom he had been most tenderly attached. It may not have much literary merit; "but nature is there, which is the greatest beauty." "KM MANrHAM PRasoN.-Wednesday night. "The troublesome scene of life is nearly closed; and the hand that now traces these lines, in a short time will be no longer capavle of communicating to a beloved family the sentiments of his heart. "It is now eleven o'clock, and I have only time to address my beloved Julia in a short, eternal farewell. Thou sacred Power!whatever be thy name and nature —who has created us the frail and imperfect creatures that we are, hear the ardent prayer of one now on the eve of a most awful change. If thy Divine Providence can be affected by mortal supplication, hear and grant, I most humbly beseech thee, the last wishes of a heart that has ever adored thy greatness and thy goodness. Let peace and happiness once more visit the bosom of my beloved family. Let a mild grief succeed the miseries they have endured; and, when an affectionate tear is generously shed over the dust of him who caused their misfortunes, let all their ensuing days glide on in union and domestic harmony. Enlighten my beloved brother: to him and his invaluable wife grant the undisturbed enjoyment of their mutual love; and, as they advance, let their attachment increase. Let my Julia, my feeling, my too feeling Julia, experience that until 11 o'clock of the morning after the trial. He hastened to Lord Clare, and showed him the letter. It moved him; and he exclaimed, naturally enough, " What a coward he is!" Iie said it was impossible to save John Sheares, and the doubt was how the Viceroy could draw the distinction between them. At last, anticipating that Henry would make any disclosures to save his life, he desired Barrington to go to the prison, see Henry Sheares, and put the question to him. " I lost no time,"' says Barrington, " but I found, ot, my arrival, that orders had been given, that nobody should be admitted without a written permission. I returned to the Castle-they were all in council. Cooke [the Secretary] was not in his office-I was delayed. At length the Secretary returned-gave mie the order. I hastened to Newgate, and arrived at the very moment the executioner was holding up the head of my friend, saying:' Here is the head ofa traitor i' "'- M. 292 Lw= OF CURiRAN. consolation which she has so often imparted to others; let her soul repose at length in the consummation of all the wishes of her excellent heart; let her taste that happiness her virtues have so well merited. For my other sisters provide those comforts their situation requires. To my mother-O, Eternal Power! what gift shall I wish for this matchless parent? Restore her to that peace which I have unfortunately torn from her: let her forget me in the ceaseless affections of my sisters, and in their prosperity; let her taste that happiness which is best suited to her affectionate heart; and, when at length she is called home, let her find, in everlasting bliss, the due reward of a life of suffering virtue. "Adieu, my dear Julia! My light is just out. The approach of darkness is like that of death, since both alike require me to say farewell! farewell, for ever! 0, my dear family, farewell!Farewell, for ever! "J. S." In the cemetery of the Church of St. Michan's, in Dublin, there are vaults for the reception of the dead, of which the atmosphere has the peculiar quality of protracting for many years the process of animal decay. It is not unusual to see there the coffins crumbling away fiom around what they were intended for ever to conceal, and thus giving up once more to human view their contents, still pertinaciously resisting the influence of time. In this place the unfortunate brothers were deposited;* and in this state of undesigned disinterment their remains may be seen to this day, the heads dissevered fiom the trunks, and "the hand that once traced those lines" not yet mouldered into dust.* * They were hanged and beheaded in the front of Newgate. Davis says of John Sheares: " He died (as did Henry, too, when he really came to his doom), placidly and well." On the other hand, Barrington records that " They came hand in hand to the scaffold: Henry died without firmness-the brother met his death with sufficient fortitude."-M. t This reproach is out of date in 1855. In consequence of what Mr. W. HI. Curran stated on this subject, in these pages and elsewhere, the mortal.remains of the Sheareses were put ou' of public view, into substantial 6ak coffins. —M, TRIALS OF T' CANNY BYRNE, AND BOND. 2'.09 CHAPTER XII. Trials of M'Cann, Byrne, and Oliver Bond-Reynolds the informer-Lord Edward Fits. georald-His attainder —Mir. Curran's conduct upon the State Trials-Lord Kilwarden's friendship-Lines addressed by Mr. Curran to Lady Charlotte Rawdon-Theobald Wolfe Tone-His trial and death. THE trial of the Sheareses was followed by that of John M'Cann of the 17th of July, 1798, of William Michael Byrne on the 20th, and Oliver Bond on the 23d of the same month. These were among tile persons who had been at the head of the United Irishmen in the metropolis, arkd whom the Government, upon information communicated by one of their associates, had arrested in the preceding March. Mr. Curran acted as leading counsel for them all; but his speeches in the two former cases having been entirely suppressed,* the present account must be confined to his defence of Bond. [Oliver Bond was an eminent woollen-draper, residing in Bridge Street, Dublin, and is described by Davis as "a shrewd, kind man." Hie was indicted for high treason, —that is for having administered unlawful oaths, on the 20th of May, 1798, to Thomas Reynolds and others, for conspiring to cause a rebellion to overthrow the King's government, for collecting money to furnish arms and ammunition for that purpose, for aiding and causing Reynolds to be a rebel Colonel in the county of Kildare, and for aiding and assisting the French to invade Ireland, &c. The principal witness, Thomas Reynolds, of Kilkea Castle, "swore hard" but many persons testified that he was not to be believed upon his oath. In fact, he was steeped to the eyes in * M'Cann and Byrne were convicted and executed.-C. .294 LIFE OF CURRAN. crime. He stole jewels, and silks from his mother,-swindled a servant out of a bond of ~175,-and was accused, by his own brother-in-law, under circumstances of the strongest suspicion, of having poisoned his wife's mother, for the sake of robbing her of ~300. His infamy, as will be seen by the extracts from his evidence, was proven, out.of his own lips.*] This was considered by the bar as the most powerful of his efforts upon the state trials of this year. Mr. Curran has been represented, by the detractors of his reputation, as surrounded, during those trials, by an admiring populace, whose passions, instead of endeavouring to control, he was rather anxious to exasperate, by presenting them with exaggerated pictures of the calamities of the times. It is not true that his audiences were of this description: one of the most honourable circumstances of his life is the fact that they were of a far diihrent kind. He was encompassed, indeed, by men whose passions were sufficiently inflamed, but they were passions which it required no ordinary courage in the advocate to brave, and to despise. In his defence of Bond he was repeatedly interrupted, not by bursts of applause, but by violence and menace; with what effect will appear in the course of the following passages. " Gentlemen, much pains has been taken to warm you, and then you are intreated to be cool; when the fire has been kindled, it has been spoken to, and prayed to be extinguished. What, is that?"' [Here Mr. Curran was again interrupted by the tumult of the auditors; it was the third time that he had been obliged * Reynolds's family did not like to rest under the imputation of his having been an informer and perjurer. His son, some years since, published an apology for his life. It failed to clear him. Reynolds was rewarded with two consular appointments, andl, for some time was postmaster of Lisbon during the Peninsular war. In all be received ~45,000 for swearing men's lives away, and one of his family still receives the pension settled on him, literally as the price of blood. —M. t This question was occasioned by a clash of arms among the military that thronged the court; some of those who were nearest to the advocate appeared, from their looks and gestures, about to offer him personal violence, upon which, fixing his eye sternly on them, he exclaimed, " You may assassinate, but you shall not intimidate me."-C. TRIALS OF M CANN, BYRNEr AND BOND. 295 to sit down: on rising he continued,] "I have very little, scarcely any ]lope of being able to discharge my duty to my unfortunate client,-perhaps most unfortunate in having me for his advocate. I know not whether to impute these inhuman interruptions to mere accident; but I greatly fear they have been excited by prejudice." [The Court said they would punish any person who dared to interrupt the counsel for the prisoner. "Pray, Mr. Curran, Proceed on stating your case; we will take care, with the blessing of God, that you shall not be interrupted."] "You have been cautioned, gentlemen, against prejudice. I also urge the caution, and not with less sincerity: but what is the prejudice against which I would have you armed? I will tell you: it is that pre-occupation of mind that tries the accused before he is judicially heard; that draws those conclusions from passion which should be founded on proof, and that suffers the temper of the mind to be dissolved and debased in the heat of the season. It is not against the senseless clamour of the crowd, feeling impatient that the idle discussion of facts delays the execution, that I warn you. No: you are too proud, too humane, to hasten the holiday of blood. It is not against any such disgraceful feelings that I warn you. I wish to recall your recollections to your own minds, to guard you against the prejudice of elevated and honest:rnderstanding, against the prejudice of your virtues. "It has been insinuated, and with artful applications to your ftelings of national independence, that I have advanced, on a former occasion, the doctrine that you should be bound in your decisions by an English act of parliament, the statute of William III. Reject the unfounded accusation; nor believe that I assail your independence, because I instruct your judgment and excite your justice. No: the statute of William III. does not bind you; but it instructs you upon a point which before was enveloped in doubt. The morality and wisdom of Confucius, of Plato, of Socrates, or of Tully loes not bind you, but it may elevate and illu 296 LIFE OF CURRAN. minate you; and in the same way have British acts of parliament reclaimed you fiom barbarism. By the statute of William III. two witnesses are necessary, in cases of high treason, to a just and equal trial between the Sovereign and the subject; and Sir William Blackstone, one of the wisest and best authorities on the laws of England, states two witnesses to be but a necessary defence of the subject against the profligacy of ministers. In this opinion he fortifies himself with that of Baron Montesquieu, who says, that, where one witness is sufficient to decide between the subject and the state, the consequences are fatal to liberty; and a people so circumstanced cannot long maintain their independence. The oath of allegiance, which every subject is supposed to have taken. stands upon the part of the accused against the oath of his accuser; and no principle can be more wise or just than that a third oath is necessary to turn the balance. Neither does this principle merely apply to the evidence of a common and impeached informer, such as you have heard this day, but to that of any one witness however high and respectable his character." The informer in question was Thomas Reynolds,* a name that * Reynolds was a silk-mercer of Dublin, who had taken a very active part in the conspiracy. He was, in 1797, a colonel of the United Irishmen, afterwards treasurer and representative of a county, and finally a delegate for the Province of Leinster. As the time of the general insurrection approached, either remorse, or the hope of reward induced him to apprise the Government of the danger. HIaving previously settled his terms (500 guineas in hand, and personal indemnity) through Mr. Cope, a Dublin Merchant, he gave information of an intended meeting of the Leinster delegates at Mr. Bond's house, upon which those persons, among whom were M'Cann and Byrne, were arrested in the month of March. The evidence of Reynolds, when connected with the papers that were seized, was so conclusive against the three who were tried, that no line of defence remained but to impeach his testimony. The following extracts from Mr. Curran's croos-examination of him will show the manner in which this was attempted. THOMAS REYNOLDS CROSS-EXAMTNED BY MR. CURRAN. Q. You talked of yourself as a married man; who was your wife? A. Her name was Witherington. Q. Whose daughter? A. The daughter of Catherine and William Witheringtc I, of Grafton-street. Q. She has brothers and sisters? A. One sister and two brothers. REYNOLDS, THE IDFORMIER. 297 will be long remembered in Ireland, and of which the celebrity has been extended to England, by some late discussions of his character in the British Parliament. This man had been the principal Q. How long are you married? A. I was married upon the 25th of March, 1794. Q. You were young when your father died? A. I was about sixteen years of age. Q. I think your mother carried on the business after his death? A. Shid did. Q. Do you recollect at that time whether, upon any occasion, you were charged, perhaps erroneously, with having taken any of her money? A. No, sir, I do not recollect having heard any such charge. Q. You have sisters? A. I have, and had sisters. Q. Some of them were living at the time of your father's death? A. All that are now living were: there were more but they died. Q. Do you recollect having had any charge made of stealing trinkets or any thing valuable belonging to those sisters? A. Never. I never was charged with taking any thing valuable belonging to any of my sisters. Q. Were you ever charged with having procured a skeleton key to open a lock belonging to your mother? A. I was. Q. I do not ask you whether the charge were true or not; but you say there was a charge of that kind? A. I say I was told my mother said so. Q. She did not believe it I suppose? A. She did not say anything she did not believe. Q. And she said it? A. I heard so; and I have no reason to doubt it. Q. It was to open a drawer? A. No: it was to open an iron chest. Q. Where there were knives and forks kept? A. It is not usual to keep such things there. I believe papers were kept there. Mr. Warren was my mother's partner: he kept her in ignorance, and did not supply her with money. Q. Do you not believe that your mother made this charge? A. I believe she thought it at the time. She was a woman of truth: tt sugh, at times extremely passionate. I wish to say this:-You ask me whether I ever fwas accused of stealing money, or other valuables or trinkets, from my sisters: I was not; but I was accused of stealing my mother's trinkets. I was then about sixteen years of age. Q. During the partnership between Mr. Warren and your mother, do you recollect any thing about a piece of lutstring? A. I do perfectly well. Q. Was any charge made of stealing t at? 13* 298 LIFE OF CUOREAT. witness fol the Crown upon the trial of M'Cann and Byrne i and it is not improbable that a tenderness for his reputation had ccasioned the suppression of Mr. Curran's defenses in those cases. A. The very same charge. I was charged with stealing the lutstring to give it to a girl, and that I also took my mother's jewels for the same purpose. Q. Then the charge consisted of two parts-the taking, and the manner in which they were given away? A. If you will have it so. Q. I am not asking you whether you committed any facts of this kind or not, but whether the charges were made? A. I tell you the charges were made: and I took the things. Q. Then you committed the theft; and you were charged with the stealing? A. Both of the facts were true. Q. I did not ask you as to the skeleton key? A. That charge was untrue. Q. It did not fit the lock? A. I had no such key: the charge was unfounded: the others were true. Q. How long is Mrs. Witherington, your mother-in-law, dead? A. Twelve months, last April. Q. Where did she die? A. In Ash-street: a part of the house was my office, and connected with the house. Q. How loIJg did she live there? A. About ten months. Q. Do you recollect what the good old lady died of? A. I do not know; but heard it was a mortification in her bowels; she was complaining badly for some days. Q. Had there been any medicine brought to her? A. I recollect perfectly well, after she was ill, medicine was.brought her. Q. By whom? A. By me. Q. Are you a physician? A. No: but I will tell you. A Mr. Fitzgerald, a relation of our family, who had been an apothecary, and quitted business, left me a box of medicines, containing castor oil, cream of tartar, rhubarb, tartar emetic, and such things. I had )een subject to a pain in my stomach, for which he gave me a quantity of powders in small papers, which I kept for use, and found great relief from: they saved my life. I asked Mrs. Reynolds for one of these papers to give Mrs. Witheringtoo, and it was given to her. Q. It did not save her life? A. No, sir; and I anm sorry for it. Q. You paid her a sumn of money? A. I did. Q. How much? A. o300. Q. How long before her death? A. About a fortnight or three weeks. I got-her roeeipt, and made my clerk account for It in my books, CHARACTER OF REYNOLDS. 299 The following description of him by Mr. Curran, in Bond's case, has been omitted, in the ccmmon report: "I know that Reynolds has laboured to establish a connection between the prisoner and the meeting held at his house; but how does he manage? he brings forward asserted conversations with persons who cannot confront him-with M'Cann, whom he has sent to the grave, and with Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose prernature death leaves his guilt a matter upon which justice dares not to pronounce. lie has never told you that he has spoken to any of these in the presence of the prisoner. Are you then prepared, in a case of life and death, of honor and of infamy, to credit a vile informer, the peijurer of an hundred oaths-a wretch whom pride, honour, or religion could not bind? The forsaken prostitute of every vice calls upon you, with one breath, to blast the memory of the dead, and to blight the character of the living. Do you think Reynolds to be a villain? It is true he dresses like a gentlemar; and the confident expression of his countenance, and the tones of his voice, savour strong of growing authority. lHe measures his value by the coffins of his victims; and, in the field of evidence, appreciates his fame as the Indian warrior does in fight-by the number of scalps with which he can swell his triumphs. HIe calls upon you, by the solemn league of eternal justice, to accredit the purity of a conscience washed in his own Q. Were you ever charged with stealing that money? A. I never heard that such a charge was made: none of the family ever spoke of it to my face. Q. Captain Wlitherington is the son of your mother-in-law? A. lie is. Q. Did he make that charge? A. Not to myself. I will mention a circumstance; she had a bond, and gave it to Mir. Jones to purchase a commission: he said the money could not be got; and the ~301 was asked to purchase the commission; and I always thought that her son, Edward Witherington got that money. She died suddenly, and had not made a will. Q. She died suddenly? A. She died unexpectedly. Q. She died in forty-eight hours after taking the powder, which you gave to cure her A. She took the paper u Friday evening, and died on Sunday morning. 300 LIFE OF CURRAN. atrocities. He has promised and betrayed-he has sworn and forsworn; and, whether his soul shall go to heaven or to hell, he seems altogether indifferent, for he tells you that he has established an interest in both. He has told you that he has pledged himself to treason and to allegiance, and that both oaths has he contemned and broken.* At this, time, when reason is aflfighted fi'om her seat, and giddy prejudice takes the reins-when the wheels of society are set in conflagration by the rapidity of their own motion-at such a time does he call upon a jury to credit a testimony blasted by his own accusation. Vile, however, as this execrable informer must feel himself, history, alas! holds out too much encouragement to his hopes; for, however base, and however perjured, I recollect few instances, in cases between the subject and the crown, where informers have not cut keen and rode * The following is the list of Reynolds' oaths: Q. (By Mr. Curran). Can you just tott up the different oaths that you took upon either side.? A. I will give the particulars. Q. No, you may mention the gross. A. No; I will mention the particulars. I took an oath of secrecy in the county meeting-an oath to my captains, as colonel. After this I took an oath, it has been said-I do not deny it, nor do I say I took it, I was so alarmed; but I would have taken one if required-when the United Irishmen were designing to kill me, I took an oath before a county member, that I had not betrayed the meeting at Bond's.* After this I took an oath of allegiance. Q. Had you ever taken an oath of allegiance before? A. After this I took an oath before the privy council. I took two, at different times, upon giving information respecting these trials. I have taken three since, one upon each of the trials; and, before I took any of them, I had taken the oath of allegiance. * Upon one occasion Reynolds saved himself from the vengeance of those whoml he had betrayed, in a way that was more creditable to his presence of rmind. Before he had yet publicly declared his infidelity to the cautse of the United Irishmen, as one of their leaders, Samnuel Neilson, was passing at the hour of midnight through the streets of Dublin, he suddenly encountered Reynolds, standing alone and unarmed. Neilson, who was an athletic man, and armed, rushed upon him, and commanded him, upon pain of itstalnt death, to be nilent and to accompany him. Reynolds obeyed, and suffered himself to be dragged alotag through several dark and narrow lanes, till they arrived at an obscure and retired passage in the liberties of Dublin. HIere Neilson presented a pistol to his prisoner's breast-" What," said the indignant conspirator, "should I do to the vil!ainwlho could insinuate himself into my coafidence for the purpose of betraying me?" Reynolds, in a firm tone, replied, "You shotld shoot him through the heart." Neilson was so struck by this reply, that, though his suspicions were not removed, he changed his purpose, and putting up his pi:tol, allowed the other to retire. This fact is given as related bS an eminent Irish bu:rriater, to whom it was communlicsted by one of the parties.-C. PEROATION 301 awh.le triumphant on public prejudice. I know of few instances wherein the edge of his testimony has not been fatal, or only blunted by the extent of its execution, and retiring from the public view beneath an heap of its own carnage." Mr. Curran's parting words to the jury in this case have been also omitted in the printed collection of his speeches. " You have been emphatically called upon to secure the state by a condemnation of the prisoner. I am less interested in the condition and political happiness of this country than you are, for probably I shall be a shorter while in it. I have then the greater claim on your attention and confidence, when I caution you against the greatest and most fatal revolution-that of the sceptre, into the hands of the informer. These are probably the last words I shall ever speak to you; but these last are directed to your salvation, and that of your posterity, when they tell you that the reign of the informer is the suppression of the law. My old friends, I tell you, that, if you surrender yourselves to the mean and disgraceful instrumentality of your own condemnation, you will mark yourselves fit objects of martial law-you will give an attestation to the British minister that you are fit for, and have no expectation of any other, than martial law-and your liberties will be flown, never, never to return! Your country will be desolated, or only become the gaol of the living; until the informer, fatigued with slaughter, and gorged with blood, shall slumber over the sceptre of perjury. No pen shall be found to undertake the disgusting office of your historian; and some future age shall ask-what became of Ireland? Do you not see that the legal carnage which takes place day after.day has already depraved the feelings of your wretched population, which seems impatient and clamorous for the amusement of an execution. It remains with you-in your deternination it lies-whether that population shall be alone composed of four species of men-the informer to accuse, the jury to find guilty, the judge to condemn, and the prisoner to suffer. It regardeth not me wiat impressions your verdict shall make on the 302 LIFE OF CURRAN: fate of this country; but you it much regardeth. The observations I have offered, the warning I have held forth, I bequeath you with all the solemnity of a dying bequest; and oh! may the acquittal of your accused fellow-citizen, who takes refuge in your verdict frolt the vampire who seeks to suck his blood, be a blessed and happy promise of speedy peace, confidence, and security, to this wretched, distracted, and self-devouring country!" * The preceding trials were immediately followed by an act of attainder against three of the conspirators who had previously perished, and whose property and consideration pointed them out as objects of this measure of posthumous severity. One of these was Lord Edward Fitzgerald,t a young nobleman, whose high connections and personal qualities excited the most lively sympathy for his unfortunate end. He was one of the leaders against whom Reynolds had given information; and for some weeks had contrived, by disguising and secreting himself, to elude the pursuit of the officers of justice. At length he was traced to. an obscure house in the metropolis, and apprehended. He made a desperate resistance, and shortly after died in prison, from the wounds which he had received in the struggle. His widow and infant children petitioned against the bill of attainder, upon which occasion Mr. Curran was heard as their counsel at the bar of the House of Commons. [Lord Camden, the Viceroy, was vainly appealed to by Lord Edward's family, to take compassion on the widow and three babes, the eldest not four years old, and protect their estate for * Mr. Bond was convicted, and sentenced to die: but, in consequence of a negociation entered into between the government and the state prisoners, of which one of the articles proposed by the latter was that his life should be spared, he was respited. He was shortly after carried off by an attack of apoplexy.-C. [Thomas Davis, giving credence to a charge made by Dr. Madden, in his " United Irishmen," says that there is much evidence,o show that Bond was murdered. I confess that I do not see the motive of such a.rime.-M.] t The other two were Messrs. Cornelius Grogan, and Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey.-C $ August 20th, 179S. —C. LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 303 them from violence and plunder. The Viceroy would not, or could not, exercise humanity. On the 27th July, 1798, Toler (afterwards Lord Norbury) introduced a bill into the Irish Houste of Cr)mmons, to attaint Lord Edward, and Messrs. Grogan and IHarvey. All efforts against this vicarious trial of dead and unconvicted men were fruitless. Arthur Moore (afterwards a judge), Jonah Barlington, and Plunket spoke, as members of Parliament, on the side of humanity. Reynolds, who had been implicitly trusted by Lord Edward, established the case against him. Still, it appeared (as it was) against law and justice to attaint an untried man-every accused person being presumed innocent until convicted, on trial. Mr. Curran's appeal, though powerful, was hopeless.] His speech upon this question is imperfectly reported; but even had it been more correctly given, the leading topics would be found of too abstract a nature to attract the general reader. It still contains, like almost all his arguments upon the most technical subjects, passages of feeling and interest. At this period, he could never refrain, no matter what the occasion might be, from giving expression to the mingled sentiment of melancholy and indignation with which the scenes that were passing before him had filled his mind. "Upon the previous and important question, namely, the guilt of Lord Edward (without the full proof of which, no punishment c:an be just), I have been asked by the committee if I have any defence to go into. I was confounded by the question, which I could not answer; but, upon a very little reflection, I see, in that very confusion, the most conclusive proof of the injustice of the bill; folr, what can be more flagrantly unjust than to inquire into a fact, of the truth or falsehood of which no human being can have knowledge, save the informer who comes forward to assert it? Sir, I now answer the question: I have no defensive evidence -it is impossible that I should. I have often of late gone to the dungeon of the catlive, but never have I gone to the grave of th,' 304 LIFE OF CURRAN. dead to receive instructions for his defence —nor, in truth, have I ever before been at the trial of a dead man:* I, therefore, offer no evidence upon this inquiry, against the perilous example of which I do protest, on behalf of the public, and against the cruelty and injustice of which I do protest in the name of the dead father, whose memory is sought to be dishonoured, and of his infant orphans, whose bread is sought to be taken away." The allusion in the following passage 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 [Toler], who moved for leave to bring in the bill of attainder, could not refrain from bearing ample testimony to them: "his political 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." "One topic more," said Mr. Curran, "you will permit me to add.f Every act of this sort ought to have a practical morality * Lord Brougham has more than once mentioned to me that, in the whole range of forensic eloquence with which he was acquainted, he remembered nothing more pathetic and touching than this passage which I have printed in Italics. The Bill of attainder passed despite of many strenuous efforts to interest George III. in favour of the widow and her orphans. Lord Edward's estate was Chen sold in Chancery, to satisfy a mortgage, and bought for ~10,500 by Mr. W. Ogilvie, Lord Edward's stepfather, who cleared the property, and restored it to the widow. The poor woman (better known, perhaps, as Pamela, the reputed daughter of Madame de Genlis and Egalite), quitting Ireland, went to live at Hamburg, where she married within two years of Lord Edward's death. The union was disunion. She died, at Paris, poor and miserable, in 1S31. The British Government p)romised to reverse the act of attainder, when the Irish "troubles " were over, but this merciful act of justice was not accomplished until 1819. The reader nlay recollect Byron's graceful sonnet of thanks to George IV. (then Prince Regent), for this act.-M. t The gist and law of the case were thus put by Curran into a single sentence: " But if he died without attainder, a fair trial was impossible, because a fair defence was impossible; a direct punishment upon his person was impossible, because he could not feel it; and a confiscation of his estate was equally impossible, because it was then no longer his, but was vested in his heir, to whom it belonged by a title as good as that by which it had ever belonged to him in his lifetime, namely, the known law of the country." —M. THE STATE TRIALS. 305 flowing friom its principle. If loyalty and justice requile that these infants should be deprived of bread, must it not be a violation of that principle to give them food or shelter? Must not every loyal and just man wish to see them (in the words of the famous Golden Bull) always poor and necessitous, and for ever accompanied by the infamy of their father; languishing in continued indigence, and finding their punishment in living and their relief in dying; and if the widowed mother should carry the orphan heir of her unfortunate husband to the gate of any man who might feel himself touched by the sad vicissitudes of human affairs-who might feel a compassionate reverence for the noble blood that flowed in his veins, nobler than the loyalty that first ennobled it; that, like a rich stream, rose till it ran and hid its fountain —if remembering the many noble qualities of his unfortunate father, his heart melted over the calamities of the child; if his bosom swelled, if his eyes overflowed, if his too precipitate hand was stretched out by his pity or his gratitude to the pool excommunicated sufferers, how could he justify the rebel tear, or the traitorous humanity?" Mr. Curran's conduct upon these memorable causes exposed his character at the time to the foulest misrepresentation. The furious and the timid considered it an act of loyalty to brand as little better than a traitor the advocate who, in defending the accused, ventured to demand those legal privileges, and that fair, impartial hearing, to which, by the constitution of their country, they were entitled. He often received, as he entered the Court, anonymous letters threatening his life, if he should utter a syllable that might bring discredit upon the public measures of the day. Even in the I-ouse of Commons, he had, in the preceding year, to meet the charge of having forfeited the character of a "good subject" by his efforts for his clients. "I am heavily censured," said he, "for having acted for them in the late prosecutions. I feel no shame at such a charge, except that of its being made at such a time as 306 LIFE OF CURRM{N. this; that to defend the people should be held out as an iml. atation upon the KinDf's counsel, when the people are prosecuted by the state. I think every counsel is the property of his fellow subjccts. If, indeed, because I wore his Majesty's gown I had declined my duty, or had done it weakly or treacherously-if I had made that gown a mantle of hypoir~isy, and had betrayed mry client, or sacrificed him to any personall view-I inight, perhaps, have been thought wiser by those who have blamed me, but I should have thought myself the basest villain upon earth." And, in a letter to Mr. Grattan, some years after, alluding to the same subject, he says: "But what were those attacks? Slanders provoked by a conduct of which my friends, as well as myself, had reason to be proud —slanders cast upon me by the very menl whose want of wisdom or humanity threw upon me the necesssity of pursuing that conduct which provoked their vengeance and their misrepresentations. Thank God! I did adopt and pursue it, under the pressure of uninterrupted attacks upon my character and fortune, and fiequently at the hazard of my life. I trust, that while I have memory, that conduct will remain indelibly engraven upon it, because it will be there a record of the most valuable of all claims -a claim upon the gratitude of my own conscience." In resisting such attacks, or in braving any more aggravated measures of political hatred, Mr. Curran might have stood alone, and have looked with calmness to the result; but gratefully to his own feelings, and honourably fori others, he was not thus abandoned to his own protection. It was now that he was enabled to appireciate the full value of some of the intimacies of his youth, by finding in his own case how tenderly the claims of the ancient friend and companion were respected in a season of general alarm, distrust, and unnatural separation. Had it not been for the interference of Lord Kilwarden, his character and repose would have been more firequently invaded; but that virtuous person, whose mind was too pure to be sullied by party rancour, discountenanced LORD KILWARDEN. 307 every proposal to prosecute his friend; and never failed to check, as far as his authority could do so, any acts of malignity which might have been adopted without his knowledge.* It would be defirauding Lord Kilwarden of his greatest praise, to attribute this generous interposition to considerations of mere private friendship: it was only a part of that system of rare and manly toleration which adorned his whole public career. It is * As an example ot the spirit of petty persecution to which he was exposed from perEons in subordinati authority, it may be mentioned, that in the year 1798, whenl the msilitary were billeted throughout the country, a party of seventeen soldiers, accompanied by their wives, or their profligate companions, antd by many chiidren, and evidently selected for the purpose of annoyance, were, without any previous notice, quartered on MrI. C'lirat,'s hiouse; but the moment that Lord Kilwarden heard of the circumstanc'e, the nuisance w-:s removed. There is another instance of similar interposition to which Mr. Curran alludes in his speech on behalf of Hevey, and of which the particulars are too honourable to Lord Kilwarden to be onmitted. Mr. Curran, in that case, mentioned, that " a learned and respected brothel barrister had a silver cup, and that MNIjor Sandys (the keeper of the provost Iprison) having heard that it had for many years borne the inscription of' Erin go brach,' or'Ireland for ever,' considered this perseverance itl guilt for such a length of years as a forfeiture of the delinquent vessel; and that his poor friend was accordingly robbed of his cup." The gentleman in question was Mr. M'Nally. The manner of the robbery is characteristic of the times; a serjeant waited upon him, and delivered a verbal command friom Major Sandys to surrender the cupl, Mr. M'Nally refused, and commissioned the messenger to carry back such an answer as so daring a requisition suggested. The seijeant, a decent, humane Englishman, and who felt an honest awkwardness at being employed on such a service, comuplied; but respectfully remonstrated upon tile imprudence of provoking Major Sandys. Tihe consequences soon appeared: the serjeant retulrned with a body of soldiers, who paraded before Mr. M'.Nally's door, and were under orders to proceed to extremoiiies if the cup was not delivered up. Upon HMr. M'Nally's acquainting Lord Kitwarden with the outrage, the latter burst into tears, and excltimling, that " his own sideboard might be the next ob:ject of plunder, if such atrocious practices were not checked," lost not an instant in procuring a restitution of the property. The cup was accordingly sent back with the inscription erasemd. " And here," continued Mr. Curran, observing upon this transaction, " let me say, in my own defence, that this is the only occasion upon which I have ever mentioned it with the least appearance of lightness. I have often told the story in a way that it would not become me to tell it here: I have told it in the spirit of those feelings that were excited at seeing that one man could be sober and humane, at a moment when so many thounands were drunk and barbarous; and probably tny statement was not stinted, by the recollection that I held IIhat. person in peculiar respect and regard. But little does it. signify whether acts of mooderation and humanity tlre blazoned by gratitude, by flatttery, or by friendship: they are recorded iin the heart from which they sprung: and, in the hour of adverse vicissitude, if it should ever come, sweet is the odour of their memory, and precious the balm of their consolation."-,. 308 LIFE OF CURRAN. often the face of the most splendid characters, who:mingle in political contentions, to be misunderstood and traduced, until "he tulrbulence of the scene is past, or until the appeasing influence of the grave extorts an admission of their virtues. WVith Lord Kilwarden it was otherwise, so conspicuous were (if not his talents) his integrity and humanity, more admirable than the most exalted talents, that Ireland, in her most passionate moments, thought and spoke of him while he lived as she now does of his memory. His conduct in the situation of Attorney-General would alone have entitled him to the lasting gratitude of his country. This trying and so frequently unpopular office he filled during the most agitated period of her history. From the year 1790 to 1798 it devolved upon him to conduct the state prosecutions, a task so difficult to perform without reproach; and, to his honour it is recorded, that he did not escape reproach-the reproach of an extreme respect for human life. Hie delighted in mercy; and though, "like the noble tree, that is wounded itself, while it yields the balm," the indulgence of his nature exposed him to censure, he was still inflexibly merciful, screening the deluded, mitigating, where it could be done, the punishment of the convicted, abstaining, in the most aggravated cases, from embittering the agonies of the criminal by official invective, or by more inhuman levity. Such were the arts by which this excellent man collected arround him the applause of the good, and earned for his memory that epitaph which is never separated from an allusion to his fate-" the lamented Lord Kilwarden." As soon as the first interval of professional occupation permitted him, Mr. Curran seized the opportunity of passing over to England, and of seeking in a more tranquil scene, and in the corsolations of private friendship, a temporary relief from the anguish with which he had witnessed the spectacle of turbulence and suffering at home. Upon the present occasion, his feelings of personal respect, and his CAROLAN, THE IRISH BARD. 309 certainty of finding a generous sympathy for the calamitles of their common country, directed his steps to the residence of the Earl of Moira,* a n4leman for whose public and private virtues he had long entertained the most ardent veneration; and it would here be depriving Mr. Curran's memory of one of the titles of honour, upon which he always set the highest value, if it were not added, that, from his first acquaintance with his lordship, and with his accomplished mother, he continued ever after to enjoy their most perfect confidence and esteem. During this visit to them, he addressed to the latter the following little poem, in which the prevailing sentiment will be found to be the despondency that oppressed his own mind at the unfortunate period. LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY CHARLOTTE RAWDON, AND WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF CAROLAN'S IRISH AIRS. DONNINGTON PARK, OCTOBER, 1798. And she said unto her people, Lo! he is a wanderer and in sadness; go therefore, and give him food, that he be not hungry, and wine, that he be comforted. And they gave him food and wine, and his heart was glad: and, when he was departing, he said unto her, I will give thee a book-it containeth the songs of the bards of Erin, of the bards of the days that are gone! and these bards were prophets. and the griefs of the times to come were known unto them, and their hearts were sore troubled; and their songs, yea, even their songs of joy, were full of heaviness! This book will I give unto thee; and it shall be a memorial of the favour thou showedst unto me. And I will pray a prayer for thee, and it shall be heard-that thy days may be happy; and that, if sorrow should come unto thee, it may only be for a season, and that thou mayest find comfort even as I have done, so that thou mayest say, even as I have said, I did not take heed unto my words, when I said I was as one without hope. Surely I am not a wanderer, neither am I in the land of strangers! * The Earl of Moira here named served, in this country, as Aide-de-camp to Sir Henry Clinton, and subsequently as Adjutant-General of the British forces. He was then Lord Rawdon, and, on his father's death, became Earl of Moira. He ruined his fortune by intimacy with George, Prince of Wales-was sent to India, as Governor-General to repair it-remained there nine years, and was made Marquis of Hastings in hi3 -absence. He returned to England in 1S22, and was made Governor of Malta in 1824, and died in 1826. He was father of Lady Flora Hastings, so foully "done to death by lying. tonvt-es," in Queen Victoria's Court, some years since.-M. 310 LIFE OF CURRAfN. By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, when we remember thee, 0 Sion! Carolan, thy happy love No jealous doubt, no pang can prove. Thy generous lord is kind as brave; Ue loves the bard, and scorns the slave: And Cl.arlotte deigns to hear thy lays, And pays thee not with thoughtless praise. With flowery wreaths the cup is crown'd: The frolic laugh, the dance goes round'The hall of shells:" the merry throng Demand thy mirth. demand thy song. Here echoes wait to catch the strain, And sweetly give it back again. Then, happy bard! awake thy fireAwake the heart-string of thy lyreInvoke thy Muse. Thy Muse appears; But robed in sorrow, bathed in tears. No blithesome tale, alas! she tellsNo glories of the " hall of shells "No joy she whispers to thy laysNo note of love, no note of praise;But to thy boding fancy shows The forms of Erin's future woes, The wayward fates, that crown the slave, That mar the wise, that crush the brave, The tyrant's frown, the patriot's doom, The mother's tears, the warrior's tomb. In vain would mirth inspire thy song: Grief heaves thy breast, and claims thy tongue: Thy strain from joy to sadness turns: Thy bard would smile-the prophet mourns.* Mr. Curran had scarcely returned to Ireland to-resurne his public duties, when it was his fate to be engaged, while performing them, in another scene, which bore a striking resemblance to the melan* These verses were written in answer to a questicn from Lady Rawdon, upon the cause of the mixture of liveliness and melancholy which distinguishes the compositions of Carolan.-C. THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. 311 choly catastrophe in Jackson's case. The circumstances alluded to were those which followed the trial and conviction of Theobald Wolfe Tone. Mr. Tone was one of the most active promoters of the designs of the United Irishmen; and, according to the concurring testimony of all his cotemporaries, was the ablest man who had given his support to that cause. He was originally a member of the Irish bar, where his talents could not have failed to have raised him to distinction; but the principles of the French Revolution, and the hope of successfully applying them to change the condition of his own country, soon diverted his ardent mind fiom legal pursuits, and involved him in that political career which subsequently occupied his life. In this new field he, at a very early period, became conspicuous for his zeal in supporting the claims of the Roman Catholics, who appointed him a secretary to their committee, and voted him a sum of money as the reward of his exertions. He was also one of the original projectors of the plan of combining the popular strength and sentiment, which was afterwards matured into the Irish Union. That association existed some years before its object was to effect a revolution; but it has already been shown, that, as early as 1791, Mr. Tone recommended precisely the same views which the future leaders vainly attempted to accomplish. In 1794, when Jackson arrived in Ireland upon his secret mission from the French Government, he soon discovered that Mr. Tone was one of the persons the most likely to approve and assist his designs. He accordingly communicated them to him, and wvas not disappointed in his expectation. Mr. Tone so cordially emlbraced the proposal of an invasion of Ireland by the French, that, had not the urgency of his private affairs prevented, he would have passed over to France, in order to confer in person with the Frenlc.h authorities upon the subject. Some of the discussions uponi this topic took place in the prison of Newgate, in the presence of Cockaynle and Mr. Hamilton Rowayn, the latter of whdii was at that time under sentence of confinenlent for the publication of a 312 LIFE OF CURBAN. libel. Jackson being shortly after arrested upon the information of Cockayne, Mr. Rowan, who was aware that the evidence of that witness would equally involve himself, effected his escape, and fled to France. Mr. Tone remained. Whatever his more private comnmunications might have been with Jackson, upon whose fidelity he relied, he conceived that the amount of Cockayne's testimony could convict him of no higher an offence than misprision of treason. Considerable exertions were also used by his private friends to dissuade the Government from a prosecution; and, in consequence, he was not arrested. The evidence upon Jackson's trial, however, having publicly shown that some degree of treasonable connexion had subsisted between him and Mr. Tone, the latter was advised, if he consulted his safety, to withdraw from Ireland. IIe accordingly, in the summer of 1795, transported himself and nis family to America.* Here he did not remain many months. iIe tendered his services to the French Directory, and having met with all the encouragement he could desire, he procured a passage to France, where he arrived in the beginning of the year 1796. lie was most favourably received, and appointed to a commission in the French army. His efforts to persuade the Directory to send an armament to Ireland have been previously mentioned. The first expedition having failed, a second attempt was made in the autumn of 1798. This was equally unsuccessful; and Mr. Tone, who was on board the Hoche French line-of-battle-ship, one of the vessels captured by Sir J. B. Warren's squadron off the Irish coast, fell into the hands of the English Government, and was brought to trial by court-martial in Dublin, on the 10th of November, 1798.t * The vessel, in which he was a passenger, no sooner arrived in sight of an American port, than she was boarded by a boat from a British man of war. Mr. Tone was (among others) impressed to serve as a sailor in his majesty's navy; but, after considerable difficulties, his own remonstrances, and the solicitations of Mrs. Tone, obtained his release.-C. t There is no report, in Thomas Davis's excellent edition of Curran's speeches, of his defence of Wolfe Tone.-M. TOENS TRIAL. 313 Mr. Tone appeared in court in the dress of a FreniEh officer. When called on for his defence, he admitted the facts of which he was accused;* but pleaded (of co&rse ineffectually) his French commission. He then proceedud to read a paper which he had drawn up in justification of his conduct, from the conclusion of which it wam evident that he' had entertained no hope that any defenice could avail him.' I have: little more: to say.; Success is all in this life; and, uinfavoured of her, virtue becomes vicious in the ephemeral estimation of these who attach every merit to prospeority. In the glorious race of patriotism, I have pursued the' path chalked out by Washington in America;, and Kosciusko inPoland. Like the latter, I have faiiled to emancipate mty country; and, unlike th-em both, I have forfeited my life:. I have: don my duty,f and I have no doubt the Courlt will do theirs. I ha~ire only to add, fhat a, man who has thought and acted as I have done,: sh'ould be'armeq against the fear of death. I conceive," continued he, "that I stand here in the same light with our imigris; and, if the; indulgence lay within the power of tile court, I would only request what- French magnanimity allowed to Charefte and to the Count: de Sombreuil: —-the death of a soldier, an'd to be shot by a: file of grenadiers. This is the only fav our I haive to ask;- anid I trust that- men~, susceptible of the nice feclings of a so diet's honouri will liot refuse the request. It is not fromin any personal feling that I make this request, but fromn a respect to the: uniform which I wear, and to the brave' army in' which I have foun6ght." This final request was not granted. It was directed by the Government that he should be executed in the ordinary form, and in- the most public manier; Ibut this the prisoner took the resohlution of preventing, by an' act, which, in hlis case, shlows the uncertain security df any speculative determinations respecting suicide, a-gnshit~ thi pi&eisure of the asctuat cain'mtity, or 6f the many * When asked, wht he- w*otuld plead; he exclaimed, " itilty; for I hate neVer, during nmy life, stooped to a prevarication." —C. 14 314 LIFE OF CURRAN. other motives which impel a man to raise his hand aoainst himn self. Upon the evening before the Hoche sailed from Brest, the subject of suicide was fully discussed among the Irish, who formed a part of the expedition. They felt confident of success, should the French troops debark in safety upon the coast of Ireland; but they were equally certain, that, if captured at sea, they would all be condemned, and executed. Upon this a question arose, whether in the latter event, they should suffer themselves to be put to death according to the sentence and forms of law. Mr. Tone maintained that they ought; and, with his usual eloquence and animation, deli-r red his decided opinion, that, in no point of view in which he had ever considered suicide, could he hold it to be justifiable. It is supposed, that, in his own particular instance, he did not at this time anticipate an ignominious mode of death; but that he expected, in case of capture and condemnation, to be allowed the military privilege which he afterwards so earnestly claimed.f Disappointed in this hope, he now committed the act which he had so lately reprobated. He was induced to do so either by a natural impulse of personal pride, of which he had not previously contemplated the powerful influence, or (as is conjectured by those who best knew him) out of consideration for the army of which he was a member, and for whose honour, in h.; estimation, no sacrifice could be too great. Mr. Tone's execution was fixed for Monday, the 12th of Novemt The gentleman who has communicated the above circumstances was present at the conversation. Independent of the moral argum:ents adduced against suicide, it was suggested by one of the company, that from political considerations, it would be better not to relieve, by any act of self-murder, the Irish government from the discredit in which numerous executions would involve it-an idea which, he says, Mr. Tone warmly approved. fie adds, that when. it appeared. that the Hoche was likely to be captured, a boat was despatched to her from the Bici.e (a small, fast sailing vessel, which afterwards escaped into Brest) in order to bring off all the Irish on board; but that Mr. Tone could not be persuaded to avail himself of the 6pportunity.-C. [Wolfe Tonse's own Memoirs tell every thing about him. —M.] TONES SmIDE,. 315 ber. At an early hour upon that morning the sentinel who watched in his room having approached to awaken him, found him with his throat cut across, and apparently expiring. A surgeon was immediately called, who, on examining the wound, pronounced it not mortal, though extremely dangerous; to which Mr. Tone faintly answered,. "I find, then, I am but a bad anatomist." The wound was dressed, with the design of prolonging life till the hour of one o'clock, the time appointed for his execution. In the interval a motion was made in the court of King's Bench by Mr. Curran, on an affidavit of Mr. Tone's father, stating that his son had been brought before a bench of officers, calling itself a courtmartial, and by them sentenced to death. "I do not pretend to say," observed Mr. Curran, "that Mr. Tone is not guilty of the charges of which he was accused; I presume the officers were honourable men; but it is stated in the affidavit, as a solemn fact, that Mr. Tone had no commission under his majesty, and therefore no court-martial could have cognizance of any crime imputed to him, while the court of King's Bench sat in the capacity of the great criminal court of the land. In times when war was raging, when man was opposed to man in the field, courts martial might be endured; but every law authority is with me while I stand upon this sacred and immutable principle of the constitution-that martial la w and civil law are incompatible; and that the former must cease with the existence of the latter. This is not the tilme for arguing this momentous question. My client must appear in this court. He is castfor death this day. ie may be ordered for execution while I address you. I call on the court to support the law. I move for a habeas corpus to be directed to the provostmarshal of the barracks of Dublin, and Major Sands to bring up the body of Mr. Tone." Chief Justice.*-" Have a writ instantly prepared," * Lord Kllwarden.-C. SaXl6 LIM Or C' CkAm. Mr. %tP..-" My Client may din whl thi. Wiit is prpariig., Chief Jusfice. —" M.t Sheriff, p6eed to the batacks, and acquaiint the provost imarshal that a writ: is pepta'ing to suspend iMr. To'e's execuiofini; and see: tkat he 6e not e'ecited."' Theo; Coit awaited, in a state o the~ utmost agitaion the return 6f the- Sheiff.M', Sherf. —" M o fds, i havi- ea at tle bafracks; in pursu — aele of your ordetr. Thie provost-,mashal says hi e mist obey Major San'd.; MaJor Sai-ds' says he must obey tord Cornwalis."' MY. Curanh. —- Mr. Tone's father, my lords, returns, ifter ervii'g thie habeas co'rpus: he says- Geniiral Craig Will n6t obey it." Cief utstice:-"-"_Mr. Sheriff take the body of Tone into your cestody. ta:ke the p6vostmarshal anid Maijor Sands into custody: and sh6w the orfde 6f this courdt to Geferal Ciaig." Mr. Sieiff, who- *s underst6od to have been refu-ed admittaice At the btarrack, retnufn.-" I have been at the balracks. Mir. Tohe, having cut his throat last night, is- not in a conditioni to be re ovd. As to the second part of your- order, I co-uld niot mieet the parties.,' A Frenich emigrait surgeoi, *hoiK General Craig haid gent 4alng with the Sheriff, Was sworin. Surge6.-' I was sent to att Te tohis morniing a ftou o"cl-ck. His windpipe was divided. I took instant measures t-o s6eeCue his life, by closing the wound. There is no knowing, for f'our days, WhAther it Will be mortial. His' head is now kept in one position. A sentinel is over aetm, to dprev-ent: his Speakiig. Iis remctalI wo0tild kiil hiim." Mf. fn.rlati applied for furtlteP siurgi6af aid, and for the admission of Mr. Tone's friends to him. Refused. Chief Justic- -"LA a-t - r iie bbe ihade- f6r susp endinfi the exeution of Theobald Wolfe Tone; and let it be served- on the proper person." DEATH OF TONIE. M3::a The prisoner lingered, until the 19th day of November, when he expired, after having endured the most excruciating pain;* and with his fate shall close the account of the part which Mr. Curran bore in the public transactions of this calamitous year. * Mr. Tone had reached only his thirty-fourth year. Pis father was an eminent coachmaker in Dublin: he had sixteen children (thirteen sons and three daughters), of whom only llvy B tc tined the age of Boutpy, it 4 A hoie;ited Cord asizn 1evr istX$1g of g waltn driqe and cal!U itie.~ff A isgle fmily. Theobal di as.befor#e rltlgd. Rlesew was executed the same year, in Dublin barracks, for high treasons it ji sJaO.d *.t Og 9are than five persons were present at the execution. William was killed in India, a major in Holkar's service. Arthur accompanied his brother Theobald to America; and was subsequently, at the early.age of eighteen, appointed to the command of a frigate In the ser, vice of the /)utoh repqublic: he is supjsqd to have perished at sea, as no accquut twg ever after received of him. Marry was married to a foreign merchant, and died at 8t. Domingo. Their aged mother survives, and now [1819] resides in Dublin. After the death of Mr..W!fe oTono, his widow apn in:fantohidtee a ere proecled by thei tFrgeh r.publio; and, on the mnotion of Lucien Bonaparte, a pension granted for their support.-.C. 318 LIFE OF CURRAN. CHAIT[Ei XIII. Effects of the Legislative Union upon Mr. Curran's mind-Speech in Tandy's case-eveezth in behalf of Hlevey-Allusion in the latter to Mr. Godwin-Mutual friendship of Mr. Curran and Mr. Godwin. MR. CURRAN'S history, during the eight remaining years of his forensic life, consists almost entirely of the causes of interest in which he was engaged. He wvas no longer in Parliament when the question of.the Union was agitated and carried. This measure, which he had always deprecated as ruinous and disgraceful to his country, completed those feelings of political despondency to which the scenes of the rebellion, and the uniform failure of every struggle to avert them, had been habituating his mind.* With the Union, which he considered as "the extinction of the Irish name," all his long cherished hopes for Ireland vanished for ever. From this last shock to his affections and his pride he never recovered. It was ever after present to his imagination, casting a gloom over all his political speculations, and interfering with the repose of his private hours. This sensibility to what so many others bore with complacency as a mere national disaster, will, perhaps, be ridiculed as affected, or doubted as incredible; but those who best knew * Years before, while in Parliament, he had thus predicted the results of an Union:"'It is very easy to conceive, that in case of such an event the inevitable cons quence would be, an union with Great Britain. And if any one desires to know what that would be, I will tell him: It would be the emiygation qf every mann of conseqyluence from Ireiasnd; it would be the participation? of British taaces without British trade; it wsould be the ewtinction of the Irish name as a people. We shousld becane a wretched colony, perhaps leased out to a compansy of Jeeos, as was formerly in contemplation, and governed by a fesw tao-gatherers and excisemen, zunless possibly you may addjff teen or twenty couple q'.l'ish members, who might bejfosend every session sleelpong in their collars tander the masazger of the British Minister." —M. JAMES NAPPER TANDY. 319 him can attest the sincerity and extent of his affliction. It was so deep, that he began seriously to meditate a final departure from Ileland.* At one time he looked towards America, at another to teli English bar; but the better influence of duties and old attachmelmnts prevailed over these suggestions of melancholy, and he remained to conclude his fortunes on the scene where they had commenced. CASE OF JAMES NAPPER TANDY. ONE of Mr. Curran's speeches, which has been omitted in all the editions of the published collection:t was that in behalf of:Mr. James Napper Tandy. Mr. Tandy had been a conspicuous inemlber of the early societies of United Irishmen. In 1795, he was indicted for IHigh Treason, and fled to the Continent, where he becamne an officer in the French service. Hle was one of the persons excluded from the benefit of the bill of general alnnesty, which was passed after the suppression of the rebellion of 1798. The other particulars of his case may be sufficiently collected from Mr. Curran's statement. The trial took place in the King's Bench, befcre Lord Kilwarden and the other judges of that Couil, on the 19th ot' May, 1800.1 Mr. Curran (for the prisoner).-" MR lords, and- you, gentlemen * "That country (as he observes in one of his latest speeches at the bar) of which I h1ave so often abandoned all hope, and which I have been so often determined to quit for me.e — Sepe vale dicto, multa sum deinde locutus, Et quasi discedens oscula summa dabam, Indulgens animo, pes tardus erat." Speech in Judge Johnsot's C'eas. t- I.t is to be found in Davis's edition.-M. S Napper Tandy';4d been a merchant in Dublin, of good family; and became an active.member of the Corporation fully twenty-five years before 1798. In the struggle for Irish Independence, he commanded the Artillery of the Volunteers, and had his guns cast with " Free Trade or else-" uponX them. He led the Radical party in the Corporation, in 1790, and was much mixed up with the United Irishmen from 1791. He fled to America, from prosecution, in 1794, left it in 179S, and headed the Irish Government's list of persons to be held as traitors, if they did not come in to be tried before December 1798. Eventually, he was seized ait tlamburgh, (a neutral German city) deported to Ireland, 320 LIFE -OF CURRAN.,of the jury, I am in this ease of counsel for M.r. Tandy, the prisoner at the bar. I could have wished it had been the p)leasure of tile gentlemen who conduct this business on the part of the Crown to have gone on first: the subjec.t itself is of a very novel nature in this countr-y; but certainly it is the right of ftl, Crown, and which the genltlemen have thol.gb't proper to followv, to call on the counsel for the prisoner to begin; and, thierfQore, it is my duty, my lords, to submit to you, and to explain, under the direction of the Court, to you, gentlemen of the jury, what the.nature of the question is that you are sworn to try. An a(ct of parliament was passed.in this country, wyhich began to be a law on -the 6th of October, 1798; on that day it received the royal assent. By that law it is stated, that the prispner at the bar hkad be.en guilty of acts of treason of many different.illnds: atnd it enacted, that he should stand attainted of high treason except he should, on or before the first day of December following, surrender himself to one of thee Judges of this Cqulrt, or to one of jhis Majesty's julsti(;es of the peace, for the purpose, of becoi.ng aamenabl' L.o t:liat law, fromi wiich he was supposed to have fled, in roder to abide his trial for any crime that might be allege(d aginst him.." It was a law not passed for the purpose of absolutely pronouncing any judgment whatsoever against him, but for the purpose of compelling him to come in and take his trial: and nothiug can show more strongly that that act of PIarliament has not established anything touching the fact of the prisoner's guilt; because it would be absurd, in one and the same breath, to pronounce that lie was guilty of high treason, and then call upon him to come in and abide his tri~al: and the title of the act speaks that it is an act not pronouncing sentence against the prisoner, -,but that it is an act in order to compel him to come forward. tried, defended.by Curran, and acqui.tte. d, n Apr.l1-1801, he.was again tried tor ",L( l!.lg"' Ireland, convicted, sentenced to be hanged, and was finallyexchangel ag x:l..;,,eneral offlcer.taken by the French, and died there, soon after.-M,. NAPPrER TANLY. 821 "This act cl eates Parliamentary attainder, not foundedp on th9e sta!blhmenlt of the plisoler's guilt of treason, but on his c;ontuma,; )us avoidance of trial, by standing out against a trial by law. I make this observation to you, gentlemen of the july, in moder that you m1ay, in the first instance, discharge from your minds any actual belief of any climina!ity in the plisoner at the bar, and that for two reasons-first, because a well-foutnIdel conviction of hi5 guilt, on the authority of this statutte, might!have some impression on0 the mind's,of men sitting in judgment on the p,'risoer; bFut for a more material reason I wish to put it fion your1 mini, because his gilt.or innoocence has nothing to do with thle issue you are sworn to try. " Gentlemien the issue yo. are called to try is not the guilt or innocence of the prisoner; it is therefore necessary you should understand exactly what it is. The prisoner was called on to shofw cause why he should not suffer death, pursuant to the enacting clause of the statute; and he has put in a plea, in which he states, that before the time;for surender had expjred, namely, on tlIe 24th of November, 1798, seven days before the day that he ha4d for su rrendering had'expired, le was, by the ordyer of his Maesty, arrested, and made a prisoner in th9e town of Iamburgll; and th:t in consequence of such arrest, it became impossible for him to.s.rrencer hiinself and become Lamenable to justice within the time prescribed: a d the cotq.sel for t4he crown have restetd the case on the denrial, in point of fact, of this allegation; a.id, therefore, the questionl, that yo are to try is simplified to this-' I was arrested,' says the prisoner,'whereby it became impossible for pne to surrender'-to whigh the c ounsel for the. crown epy,'You. have not been yrrested:t the timne alleged by you, whe!eby it became impossible fo0r yOt to surren(ler.' rfis I conceiv to be the issue, in point of fatct, joined between tle parties, and on which it is my duty to explain the evidence that will be offered. "M'Br. Tandy is a sybhje.t of this country, and had never been in it from the time this act qf prli..ent pa.ed, uti1 he was brought 14* 32-2 L~FEL OF CURRAN. into it after his arrest on the 24th of November, 179.' on that day he was in the town of Hamburgh. He had seven days, ill which time it was practicable for him to arrive in this country., and surrender himself, according to the requisitions of the act of attainder. Every thing that could be of value to man was at stake, and called on him to make that surrender. If he did not surrender, his life wais forfeited —if he did not surrender, his fortune "weas confiscated if he (lid not surrender, the blood of his family was corrupted; and lie could leave them no inheritance, but the disgrace of having suffered as a traitor. "Your colmon sellse, gentlemen, will show you, that where a man is to forfeit his life unless he complies with the conditions of an act of parlian-lent-vour common sense, your common humanity must show you, that a man ought to be suffered to perform the conditions on which his life depends. It can require no argument to impress upon your mind, that to call on a man to surrender himself on pain of death, and by force to prevent him from surrendering, goes to an atrocity of oppression that no human mind can contemplate without horror. "But it seems that the prisoner at the bar was a man of too much consequence to the repose of all civilized nations; to the great moral system, I might almost say, to the great physical ssystemn of the universe, to be permitted to act in compliance with thle statute that called upon him to surre:nder himself upon pain of death. The wisdom of the entire continent was called upon to exercise its mediation on this most momentous circumstancethe diplomatic wisdom of Germanv was all put into:action on the subject-tlhe enlightened humanity of the north was called on to lend its aid. Gentlemen, you know as well as I the princely virtues, and the imperial qualifications, the consummate wisdom and sagacity of our stedfast friend and ally, the Emperor of all the Russias; you must feel the awe with which he ought to be mentioned: his sacred person has become embodied in the criminal law of England, and it has become almost a misprision to deem NAPPER TANDY. 323 of him or speak of him but with reverence. I feel that reverence for him; and I deem of him and conceive him to be a constellation of all virtue-compared with whose radiance the Ursamajor twinkles only as the glow-worm. And, gentlemen, what avas the result of the exercise of this combination of wisdom? That James Napper Tandy ought not to be got rid of in the ordinary way. They felt an honest and a proper indignation, that a little community like Hamburgh should embezzle that carcase which was the property of a mild and merciful Government: they felt a proper indignlation that the senate of Hamburgh, under the present sublime system, should defraud the mercy of the Government of the blood of the prisoner, or cheat the gibbet of his bones, or deprive the good and loyai ravens of this country of his fleshand accordingly by an order issued to these miserable inhabitants of the town of.-Iaumburgl, who were made to feel that common honesty and cormmon humanity can only be sustained by a strength not to be resistedL; thil- were obliged to break the ties of justice and hospitality — to t':ample on the privileges that every stranger claims; they w-ere obliged to suffer the prisoner to be trampled on, and mreanly, and cruelly, and pitiably to give up this unfortunate man to the disposal of those who could demand him at such a price. "If a surrender, in fact, had been necessary on the part of the prisoner, certainly a very material object was achieved by arresting him: because they thereby made it impossible for him to avail himself of the opportunity. They made it impossible for him to avail himself of the surrender, if the reflection of his mind led him to it. If a sense of the duty he owed his family led him to a wish, or to an intention, of availing himself of the remainiTlg time he had to surrender, they were determined he should ILot take advantage of it. Ile had been guilty of what the law deems a crime, that is, of flying from justice, though it does not go to the extent )f working a corruption of blood: but by this act of power —by this act of tyrannic force, he was prevented from doing 324 LIFE OF CURRAN. that which every court of justice must intend he was will ing to do: which the law intends he would have done —which thle law gave him time to do-which the law supposes he might have done the last hour, as well as the first. He was on his passage to this country; that would not have taken up a third part of the time that had now ei. sed-but by seizing on him in the manner he was arrested, it became impossible for him to surrender himself, or become amenable to justice. But, gentlemen, the prisoner, when he was arrested, was treated in a manner that made it impossible for him to do any act that might have been considered as tantamount to a surrender. He was confined in a dungeon, little larger than a grave-he was loaded with irons-he was chained by an iron that communicated from his arm to his leg; and that so short, as to grind into his flesh. In such a state of restriction did he remain for fifteen days; in such a situation did he lie in a common vault; food was cut into shapeless lumps, and flung to him by Lis filthy attendants as he lay on the ground, as if he had been a beast; lIe ]l:ti:no bed,to lie on; not even straw to coil himself up in, if h!i,outl have slept. In that situation he remained in a foreign country for fifteen days of his long imprisonment; and he is now called to show good cause why he should not suffer death, because he did not surrender himself and become amenable to the law. He was debarred all communication whatsoever; if he attempted to speak to the sentinels that guarded him, they could not understand him: he did make such kind of indications of his misery and his sufferings as could be conveyed by signs, but he made them in vain; and he is now called on to show good cause wherefore he did contumaciously and trai,torously refuse to surrender himself, and become amenable to the law. "Gentlemen of the jury, I am stating facts that happened in a foreign country; will you expect that I should produce witnesses o lay those abQminable offences before you in evidence? It was not in the power of the prisoner at the bar to procure witnesses NAPPER TAHDY..he.waa not of impgrtance enougfh to call on the armed civilization of Europe, or on th armed barbarity of Europe, to compel th.e inbabitants of thpe town where he was imprisoned to attend at the bar of this court to give evidence for the preservation of his life; but thouighl s.uch interposal could not b. obtained to preserve his life, it could be procured for the purposes of blood. "And this is one reason why the rights of neutral states should be respected: becase, if an individual, claiming those privileges, be tQn from that saActuary, he c9mes without the benefit of the testimony pf thqse that pould save his life. It is a maxim of law, that no Wan shUll lose any thing, muct less his life, by the nonperformance of a ondjtjion, if that non-performance had arisen by t4e act of God, or of the party who is to avail himself of the conditio i thlt, the irnpossiblity so imposed sha.l be an excuse for the 4oap-perooripance of.the condition: thbt is the defence the prisoner relies upor, here.'Why did you not surreader,,ad become -menablc to justice. Because I was in cWhains,'-' Why did you nIot come over to Ireland? Because I w"as a prisoner in a grave in:the town of Hamburgh.'' Why did you not do something tanta-'mount to a surrender? Because I was uppractised in,the language of the strapgers, w]o could lnt be my protectors, because they were aiso my fellow-suffit: ers.' "!ut he may push this reasoning' much farther: the statute ~avs n:,.de for t!he express purpose of maling him amenable. When the crown seized him at Hamburgh, it thereby made him amenase, and 5o sgtisfied the law. It could not seize him for execu-.tio.a as an! attaiinted person, for the time his not arrived at which -the atnind..r could attach. The King, therefore, seized him as A man liable to be tried, and yet he calls upon him to suffer death, because he did not mak.e himself amenable by voluntary surrender; that is, because he did not do that which the King was pleaed to do for him, by a seizwu re which made it at once unneces:ry and imp9s.ibl. fQor.i to o y any voluntary act. 326 L llE OF CURRAN. "Such is the barbarity and folly that must ever arise, *ghen force and power assume the functions of reason and justice. "As to his intention after the arrest, it is clearly out of the question. The idea of intention is not applicable to an impossible act. To give existence to intention, the act must be possible, and the agent must be free. Gentlemen, this, and this only, is tile subject on which you are to give a verdict. I do think it is highly honourable to the gentleman who has come over to this country, to give the prisoner at the bar the benefit of his evidence; no process could have compelled him: the inhabitants of foreign countries are beyond the reach of process to bring witnesses to give evidence. But we have a witness, and that of the highest respectability, who was himself at Hamburgh at the time Mr. Tandy was arrested, in an official situation. We will call Sir James Crawford, who was then the King's representative in the town of Hamburgh. We will show you, by his evidence, the facts that I have stated; that before the time allowed to the prisoner to surrender had elapsed, Sir James Crawford (lid in his official situation, and bv orders froim his own Government, cau;e the person of Mr. Tandy to be arrested in ITamburgh. Far am I firom suspecting, or insinuating against Sir James Crawford, that any of the cruelties that were practised on that abused and helpless community, or on my abused client, were committed[ at his instance or personal sanction; certain am I that no such fact could be possible. "I told you before, gentlemen, that the principal question you had to try was, the fact on which the parties had joined issue: the force and arrest alleged by the prisoner; and the denial of that force by the counsel for the Crown. iThere is one consideration, that I think necessary to give some attention to. What you may think of the probable guilt or innocence of the prisoner, is not within the question that you are to decide; but if you should have any opinion of that sort, the verdict given in favour of the prisoner can be no preclusion to public justice, if after your verdict they NAPPER TANDY. 327 still call for his life; the utmost that can follow from a verdict in his favour will be, that he will be considered as a person who has surrendered to justice, and must abide his trial for any crime that mlay be charged against him. There are various ways of getting rid of hin, if it is necessary to the repose of the world that he should die. " I have said, if he has committed any crime, he is amenable to justice, and in the hands of the law: he may be proceeded against b)efore a jury, or he may be proceeded against in another and nore summary manner; it may so happen that you may not be galled upon to dispose finally of his life or of his character. " Whatever verdict a jury can pronounce upon him can be of no final avail. There was, indeed, a time when a jury was the shield of liberty and Jife: there was a time, when I never rose to address it without a certain sentiment of confidence and pride; but that time is past. I have no heart now to make any appeal to your indignation, your justice, or your humanity. I sink under the consciousness that you are nothing. With us, the trial by jury has given place to shorter, and, no doubt, better modes of (isnosing oilf life. Even in the sister nation, a verdict can merely prevent the duty of the hangman; but it never can purge the:stain which the first malignity of accusation, however falsified by proof, stamps indelibly on the character of an'acquitted felon.' To speak proudly of it to you would be a cruel mockery of your condition; but let me be at least a supplicant with you for its memory. Do not, I beseech you, by a vile instrumentality, cast any disgrace upon its memory. " I know you are called out to-day to fill up the ceremonial of a gaudy pageant, and that to-morrow you will be flung back again among the unused and useless lumber of the constitution: but, crust me, the good old trial by jury will come round again; trtist me, gentlemen, in the revolution of the great wheel of hum.an affairs, though it is now at the bottom, it will reascend to thel station it has lost, and once -more assume its former dignity and 328 LIFE OF CURRAN. r-espect; trust me, that mankind w11 become tired of resisting the spirit of'inrovatio n, by subverting ev.ery ancient and established principle, and by trampling upo every right of individuzals A.nd of nations. Man, destined to the grave-nothing that appertains to him is eemwpt frm the stroke of death- his life fleeth as 4 dream, his liberty passeth as a shadow. So, too, of his slavery-it is not immortal; the ch.ain that grids im is gnaw p ed by rust, or it is rent by fury or by accident, a.d the wretc4 is astonishe d at tie..trusioQns.of freedom, unannounced even, by the harbinger of hope* Let me therefore conjure you, by the memory of the past, and the hope of the futtre, to respet tlhe fallen co4dition of the good old trial by jury, and cast no infamy upon it. I-f it is necessary to ~t. Repose Of the wvorl~d that tke: prisoner should die, there are many ways of killing hi — w knQw there are; it is Aot necessary t~hat you should be stained,with his blood. The strange and still mQre unheard of proceedings against the prisoner at the bar, h4ve made the business of this day a subject of more attetio tn al Europe than is generally excited by the fat or the suffering of any in4diyidual. Let me, theQpfore, advise you ser;iously to reflect upon your situation, befQe you give a verdict of mrel nness ajnd of _There is a passage in Dante descriptive of the same state of amazement, produced r,n asnnet~xpeed pscape from danger. 3E come quei che con:lena affanta, Uscito del pel!go alla riva) Si volge all' acqua perigliosa, e guata. (And, as a man with difficult short breath, Forespent witli toiling,'scaped fro sea to shore, Turn' to tle peirlous wide waste, and stands At gae.) A dising.hitsed I.altian.wlter, (Ugo Fo.sralo, in the Quarterly.Review) ow in.ng. Iand, commenting upon this passage in a late number of a periodical Work, observes) nearly in the words of IMr. Curran, " The concluding verse places the man in that state of stupor which is felt upon pafssing at once to safety from despair,.without the intervention 9f hope: he,,ks ac upn erhditiP wjith a stare,,pco sious hw bk e had,vcped it."'-. SIar HHENRtY UASYE. 32) blood that.muststamtp thke charaeter of folly md barbaarity upon this already disgraed an.d degra4ed coulitry.". [A trial of great 1ocal interet, imn which Mr. Curran was.engage, came off at the Spring Assizes ofCork, on April 13th, t18Q1, when Sir Henry Hayes was capitally indicted fqr th4e abduction of.Miss Pike. The facts were these; Hayes was son pf the Aldernman of Cork, and had ran through a large property. le was fashiontable and expensive in his habits. A widower, with several children, he determined to retrieve -his fortune by marriage. Samuel Pike, a Quaker, was a banker in Cork, on whose death, Mary Pike, his daughter, becalnme possesed of ~20Q0Q0. ySe was 21 years of age, in weak health, and when the cause for Ortion took place, was living with her relation, Mr. Cooper Penrose, at his beautiful seat called Wood Hill, on the Glanmire road, near Cork. On Sunday-, July 2, 17979, Sir Henry Hayes, who was unacquainted with Mr. Penrose, rode over to Wood Hill, was shown round the demesne, and finally, in the full spirit of hospitality, was asked to remain and dline. At table, he first saw Miss Pike, but ha4d no conversation with her as she sat at a side tabl6, with Mr. Penrose's daughters. Hayes returned to Cork, and having ascertained that Miss Pike's mother was a patient of Dr. Gibbings, wrote to him on some trifling pr-etence, obtained a reply, and then, closely imitating the handYwriting, sent a note to Mr. Pe4rose, intimating that Mrs. Pike was taken suddenly ill and wished to see her daughter, and to command dis. pa~tc(l] as she was not expected to live many hours. This missive reached Mr. Penrose after midnight, Qon July 22nd, 1797, and Miss Pike, accompanied by Miss Penrose and another relative, set off in Mr. Penrose's carriage. The night was tempestuous and dark. The carr!iage had not proceeded very far before it was stopped by a body of armeed men. Miss Pike was identified by a muffled w an, placed in another carriage with a lady, and driven off, sulI*:The jury found a verdict for the prisoner. He was afterwards permitted to retire to the continent, where he ended his days.-O. 330 LIFE OF CURRAN. rounded by an armed escort, to Mount Vernon, the seat of Sil Henry Hayes, in the suburbs. The muffled man was Hayes, the lady wa, his sister. The traces of Mr. Penrose's carriage were cut to pie. vent pursuit. The muffled man took Miss Pike in his arms, out of the carriage, into his house, and placed her for that night, under charge of two women. Next mo;rning, at day-break, she was forced into an upper room by Sir Henry and AMiss Haves, and a man in priest's habits was introduced, who performed a sort of marriage ceremonial, in which Sir Henry attempted to force a ring upon her finger, which she threw away. She was then locked up in the room, which contained only a table and bed, and after tea had been giverf to her, Sir Henry, (to use her own words,) was "coming in and out, and behaving in the rudest mnanner," and saying she was his wife. However, he did not perpetrate the worst outrage. She insisted on writing to her friends, who liberated her the next day. If Sir Henry Hayes was popular, Miss Pike's friends were wealthy, persevering, and determined. They appealed to the law, such abduction being then a capital felony under the statute. Hayes fled. A reward of ~2000 was offered by the Government and Miss Pike's friends, but in vain. Hayes was outlawed, but actually returned to Cork, where he lived, unconcealed and unmolested. At last, Hayes wrote to Miss Pike, politely offering to stand his trial, which took place (the outlawry being reversed, by consent,) nearly four years after the commission of the offense. Mr. Justice Day was the presiding Judge. There was a great array of counsel on both sides. For the Crown, Mr. Curran and six others; for the prisoner, Mr. Quin and seven more. Hayes came into Court attended by "host of friends." Curran's speech was earnest, eloquent, grave, and at times pathetic. He dwelt on the a1nomnaly of Miss Pike, the victim, being compelled to fly to Einglartd, for security, during two years that the ravisher was "basking in the favours of a numerous kindred and acquiaintance, in a widely-extended city," where every man knew his person. Hayes HEVEY AND SIRR. 331 called no witnesses, his counsel pressing for an acquittal in law, from the insufficiency of evidence under the statute of abduction. Curran replied. The jury returned a verdict of "Guilty," with a recommendation to mercy. The point of law raised by Sir Henry's counsel was referred to the twelve judges and decided against him. The capital punishment was not inflicted, being commuted to transportation for life. In a few years, a full -pardon was granted. HIayes returned to Cork, and died over twenty years after the trial.*] The next of Mr. Curran's professional efforts which shall be noticed was that in behalf of Mr. John Hevey, who brought an action for fa!lse imprisonment against Charles Henry Sirr, townmajor of Dublin. This, though a private case, was intimately connected with the public events in which the preceding state trials originated. It also resembles them in the examples of suffering and depravity which it exhibits. It presents a picture of a race of beings, the greatest scourge of an agitated country-political middle-men, who, conscious that the restoration of tranquillity must throw them out of employment -and plunder, feel an interest in aggravating the public disorders by every art of violence and persecution, which, under the pretext of proving their zeal, can prolong the necessity of their office. Of this office and its detest* The popular voice was wholly in favor of Sir Henry Hayes. A ballad-singer made a good deal of money by selling a song, the refrain of which was Sir Henry kissed-Sir Henry kissed Sir Henry kissed the Quaker. And what if he did? You ugly thing, I'm sure lie did not ate her! On the morning of the trial, as Mr'. Curran was going into the Court-House, some of the populace, who greatly admired hiln, called out "( God bless you, Mr. Curra;! I hope you'll win the day!" Curran, who was rgaitnst their favorPite, answered " If I do. you'll lose the itighjt 1".1 recollect hlaving seen Sir Hlenry Ityces, in the streets of Cork, in 1825. He was a low-statlured, thi.'k-set riian, wearing a broad-brimmed hat. It was said that his constant com-cpanion was a man who used to walk with his heaLd on one side, the effect, I have hearld, of h;s ltaving been hanged in the rebellion of 1798.-M. t May 17th, 1802.-C. [The trial took place before Lord Kilwarden and a special jury. —M.] $3:2r LLFE OF CURRAN. able abuses, a tolerable idea may be formed from a sketch of Ir. Curran's statement. "It was at that sad crisis (.1798) that the defendant, from an obscure individual, started into notice and consequence. It is tle hot-bed.9f public calamity that sch inagpici.oua products are accelerated without being leatured. From being a toxwn major, a name scarcely legible in the list of -public incubbranc.es, e became at on.ce invested with all -the real powers of the most absolute authority. " With this gentleman's extraordinary elevation began the story of the sufferings and ruin of -the plaintiff. A man was prosecuted by the state; ievey, who was accidentally present at the tria!l, knowing the witness for the prosecution to be a person of i.nfamous character, mentioned the circumstance in court. He was swOl'r and on his evidence the prisoner was acquitted. In a day or tw9 after, Major Sirr met the plaintiff in the street, asked how he dared to interfere in his business? and swore, by God, he would teach him how to meddle with' his people.' On the following evening poor Hevey was dogged in the dark into some lonely alley-tlher. he was seized, he knew not by whom, nor by what authority-,_his crime he soon learned, it was the treason he had committed against the majesty of Major Sirr. He was immediately onducted t9 new place of imprisonment in the Castle-yard, called the provost. Of this mansion of misery Major Sandys was the keeper, a gentleman of whom I know how dangerous it is to speak, and of whom every prudent person will think and talk with all due reverence. Here I-Ievey lay about seven weeks; le was at last discovered among the sweepings of the prison.'ilevey' (said the Major)' I have seen you ride, I think, a snmar t sort of mare-you can't use her here —you had better give me an order for her.' HI-evey, induced by hope and by fear, gav te othe rder. The Major accepted the order, saying,' Your courtesy will not cost you much-you are to be sent down to-morrow to Kilkenny, to be tried for your life-you will most certainly be hanged-and you can scarec. eley MAJORf 91L 338 thi l your ther jo the hr orld will be perf rnied on holoseback.' Hevey was ac-c6rdingly transmitted to Kilkenny: tried by a- court-matial, and convicted@ upon the evidence of a person un-der gsentence of death,- who' hbad been allur-ed by a proclamationoffering a reward to aiy man who would comne forward aid give aty evidence against the traitor Hevey. Lord Cornwallis fre6ad the' traasmniss of Hevey's; ~ondeminatiomn-his heart recoiled from the detai' of tupidity and batrbarity. He dashed his: pen across, thie odious reword, and ordered thati Hevey should be forthwit}h'iberated. On his retiutr to Dublin the plaintiff met Major Sandys; and demanded his mare;-' Unkg'rateful villain,' (says the Major}'is- this the gratitude you show to his Majesty and to me, for our etlemrecy to you —yoa shan-'t get possession of the beast.' HIevey brought an action for the' mare; tho Major, not choosing to come into court and stuggest the probable success of a thousand actions, esto-red- the property. " Three yeatrs," conhinlued Mr. Carran, "had- elapsed since the deliverance of my clien-t; the' public atmosphere: had, cleared; the private destiny of Hevey se'emed to have brightened, but the malice of his ernemies had not been appeased.i On the 8th of last; Septiember, Mr. Hevey was: sitting in a public coffee-house; Major:Sirr' was there; Mr. Hevey was infbrmed that, Major Sirr had at, tfat Imoment said, that: he (Hevey) ought to have been hanged. The plaintiff was fired at the charge; he fixed his eyes oin Sirr, and asked if he had dared to say so- Sirr declared that he had, and: had said truly. Hevey answered,, that he was a slanderous scoundrel. At that instant Sirr rushed upon' him, and, assisted by three or four of his satellites, who, attended him in disguise, secuied, }him annd sent him to the- Castle gtlaTd, desiring that' a receipt night be given for the villain. He was sent thither. The officer of the. guard chancled to, be an" EnglisbmaniIbut lately arrived, in Irelandd-he said to the bailiffs'If this, was in' Englaid, I should think this; gentleman entitled to bail, but I don't know the laws of this country; however I think: yooui had. better loosen. those irons oi his wrists, or they may kill him.' 334 LIFE OF CURRAN. " Major Sirr, the defendant, soon arrived, went into his office, and returned with an order which he had written, and by virtue of which Mr. levey was conveyed to the custody of his old friend -anrid aoler, Major Sandys. Here he. was flung into a room of about thirteen feet by twelve; it was called the hospital of the plrovost; it was occupied by six beds, in which were to lie fourteen or fifteen miseral le wretches, some of them sinking under contagious disorders. Here he passed the first night without bed or food. The next morning his humane keeper, the Major, appeared. The plaintiff demanded why he was so imprisoned, complained of hunger, and asked for the gaol allowance? Major Sandys replied with a torrent of abuse, which he concluded by saying,'your cr'ime is your insolence to Major Sirr; however, he disdains to tlranple on you; you may appease him by proper and contrite subtRmnission; but unless you do so you shall rot where you are. I tell you this, that if Government will not protect us, by God, we will not protect them. You will probably (for I know your insolent and ungrateful hardiness) attempt to get out by an habeas corpus, but in that you will find yourself mistaken, as such a rascal deserves.' IHevey was insolent enough to issue a habeas corpus, and a return was made on it,' that IHevey was in custody under a warrant firom General Craig, on a charge of treason.' That this return was a gross falsehood, fabricated by Sirr, I am instructed to assert. The judge, before whom this return was brought, felt that he had no authority to liberate the unhappy prisoner; and thus, by a most inhuman and malicious lie, my client was again remanded to the horrid mansion of pestilence and famine. Upon this Mr. Hevey, finding that nothing else remained, signed a submission dictated by Sandys, was enlarged from confinement, and brought the present action." The foregoing is a very curtailed sketch of the particulars of this case; those who partake of the prevailing taste for strong emotions are referred to the entire report, where they will find in every line abundant sources of additional excitement. Of the style in which the advocate commented upon these STATE OF IRELAND. 335 extraordinary fa.;'s, the following is among the m st striking examples: Adverting to the ignorance in which England was kept regarding the sufferings of Ireland, and to the benefit to be derived fiom sending her one authellticated example, Mr. Curran goes on-" I cannot also but observe to you, that the real state of one country is more forcibly imnpressed on the attention of another by a verdict on such a sutbject as this, than it could be by any general descrip tion. When you endeavour to convey an idea of a great number of barbarians practising a great variety of cruelties upon an incalculable number of sufferers, nothing defined or specific finds its way to the heart; nor is any sentiment excited, save that of a general, erratic, unappropiated commiseration. If, for instance, you wished to convey to the mind of an English matron the horrors of that direful period, when, in defiance of the remonstrance of the ever to be lamented Abercromby,* our poor people were surrendered to the licentious brutality of the soldiery, by the authority of the State-you would vainly endeavour to give her a general picture of lust, and rapine, and murder, and conflagration. By endeavouring to comprehend every thing, you would convey nothing. When the father of poetry wishes to pourtray the movements of contending armies and an embattled field, he exemplifies only, he does not describe-he does not venture to describe the perplexed and promiscuous conflicts of adverse hosts, but by the acts and fates of a few individuals he conveys a notion of the vicissitudes of the fight and the fortunes of the day. So should your story to her keep clear of generalities; instead of exhibiting the picture of an entire-province, select a single object, and even in that sinlgle object do not release the imagination of your hearer fiom its task, by giving more than an outline. Take a cottage-place the aftrighted mother of her orphan daughters at the door, the paleness of death in her face, and more than its agonies in her heart-:* Sir Ralph Abercrotlby (born in 1T38, died in 1S01) commanded the troops in Ireland during the early paxt of the Rebellion of 1798; hut his disgust at the system of cruelty and tyranny sanctioned there by the Government, caused him to make indignant reronetrances, which were answered by his recall.-M. iei' arhing hdart, her anxious ear striitggin C thiough th- nist of closing day to catch the approaches of desolation and dishonoui.l The riffian- gang ativ'es — the feast of plinder' begins — the cup of madness kindles in its- c6irctiuation -the waidering gi'neies of the ravishe~~i beom, e conceiitrated upon tlie shrinking anda devotevictinti-. you iteed Aiot dilate-yoiu ned no-ot ex-patiate-the unn polluted miother, to Whohi yn tel the story of horroTr, besetethes you not to proeeeed- she p-re:Ses her child to hi e her' hart- she droiins it in her tfe-her fancy catchies more than; ani angel' tonguo cmkld describe; at a- sifigle viiw she takes in! the whle: miserable sicession 6f force; of profanation; of des pair',, of de6ath. So it is' in thi question before' us. If aiy mai shal hiar of thiis day's transation, he' cannto be so foolish as to suppbose that we have beenconfined to a sngle character like those now brought before you. No, gentlemien; far- fro it-h- e will have ato much comion sense noi to know, that outages like these a/re neve; sitary; that. whlhere, the public c'Almity genterates imps like these, their number' is as' thei sands of the sea, and teir fury as inisatiable aS its The jury a*arded- Mr. Hevey i5 0 damag's:* out of Ireland this vrdtict 6xcited some su tiiprise and i'ndmgnation, feelings whi:ch sufficienrtly corroborate Mr. Curan's assertbe n, that the internal codititoni of his- cotitry ~Was but: ittle t know*n" in the: sister kingdom. A story' of tsuchl complicated snifefirigs aind i-dignities would have fouid a far' different r 6cpfin from an English jury but the plaintiff in this actioi Wa' ai perso6 to *hom in. Ireland, it would:have bee' deemned disloyal to have girated a jut remunerantion. Hlvey was suspected, of disaffection ina 1798;, and: the, men who were thuis' regairdles off his appea to their sympathf, were a 1enging th populr' eXcefs'es of that year. "in thd cirfse of M-r. Curanls obse-'ritios upoii th- persecutioi: of his' dietfiti this ce, h-e took an- occasion of iroducini: a happy * Plunkvt was` counsel for Major Sirr. Despite the' faVOuirable verdict, Ilevey was r:ined.- The lo'ng imprisonment made him: bankrupt. Poverty and sorrow broke hits ulil (said i avir ), and h- diedl a.;htpei lu1ltAic. shrii tl' y,aftr. —41f. WILLIAM GODWIN. 337 and well-merited compliment to a fiiend and a man of genius. "No country" (said he) "governed by any settled laws, or treated with common humanity, could furnish any occurrences of such unparalleled atrocity; and if the author of Caleb Williams, or of the Simple Story,* were to read the tale of this man's sufferings, it mIight, I think, humble the vanity of their talents (if they are not too proud to be vain) when they saw how much more fruitful a source of incident could be found in the infernal workings of the heart of a malignant slave, than in the richest copiousness of the lost fertile and creative imagination." Anlong his English friends, the author of Caleb Williams was the one to whom Mr. Curran, during the last twenty years of his life, was the most attached, and in whose society he most delighted. However lie may hate dissented from some of Mr. Godwin's ~S:pe'.L aite opinions, he always considered him as a man of the,ist decidedly original genius of his time, and uniformly discountenanced the vulgar clamour with which it was the fashion to assail hiim. There are many who well remember his fervour and eloquence upon this topic, the tears which he so fiequently excited by his glowing descriptions of the private excellencies of his friend, and of the manly, philosophic equanimity by which he triumphed over every accident of fortune. Mr. Curran's affection and respect were not unreturned-Mr. Godwin attended him in his last illness, watched over him till he expired, accompanied him to his grave, and has since his death omitted no occasion, in public or private, of honouring his memory.t * Mrs. Inchbald.-M. t His work, Mandeville, is'dedicated to.the memory of Mr. Curr.n, "the sincerest friend he ever had," a tribute of generous and disinterested regard, of which the motives are above all suspicion.-O. [Godwin, who was six years younger than Curran, survived him, not departing this life until 1896. At the time when Curran complimented Godwin, in his speech for Hevey, the novelist, who was on a visit at the Priory, was in Court. On returning, Curran, who expected at least, a word or two of acknowledgment, ar d received none, asked Oodwvin what he thought of the trial? ", Oh," said Godwin, "I had forgotten. I am glad that I heard you, as I have now somne idea of yocr maLnnler." Thle very last note written by Curran was an invitation to Charles Phillips to meet Godwin at dlnner~ loM>] 338 LIFE OF CURRAN'. CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Curran visits Paris-Letter to his son-Insurrection of 1803-Defence of KirwaunDeath of Lord Kilwarden-Intimacy of Mr. Robert Emmett in Mr. Curran's fanmily, and its consequences-Letter from Mr. Emmett to Mr. Curran —Letter firotm the same to AMr. Richard Curran. THIS year (1802) MINI. Curran, taking advantage of the short peace, revisited France. His journey thither now was undertaken with views and anticipations very different fiom those which had formerly attracted his steps towards that courntry..Ie had this time little hope of any gratification; he went fromn an impulse of melancholy curiosity, to witness the extent of his own disalppi)intments, and to ascertain in person whether anything worth saving, in morals and institutions, had escaped the general wreckl; for lie was among those whose general attachment to freedom had induced them to hail with joy the first prospects which the revoltution seemed to open upon France. His own early admilration of the literary and social genius of her people had made hin watch, with the liveliest interest, the progress of their struggles, until they assumed a character which no honourable mlind could contemplate without anguish and horror. To Mr. Curran, too, every painful reflection upon the destiny of France was embittered from its connexion with a subject so much nearer to his heart, the fate of Ireland: for to whatever cause the late rebellion might be attributed, whether to an untimely and intemperate spirit of innovation in the people, or to an equally violent spirit of coercion in the state, it was in the influence of the French revolution that the origin of both might be found. It will be seen, from some passages in the following letter to VITrr TO PARIS. 339 one of his sons, that he found little in France under its consular government to diminish his regrets or justify a return to hope. " Palrs, October 5, 1802. " DEAR RICHARD, "here I am, after having lingered six or seven days very unnecessarily in London. I don't know that even the few days tnat I can spend here will not be enough; sickness long and gloomy; convalescence disturbed by various paroxysms; relapse confirmed; the last a spectacle soon seen and painfully dwelt upon. shall stay here yet a few days. There are some to whom I have introductions that I have not seen. I don't suppose I shall get myself presented to the consul. Not having been privately baptized at St. James's would be a difficulty; to get over it a favour; and then the trouble of getting one's self costumed for the show; and then the small value of being driven, like the beasts of the fieldl before Adam when he named them'; I think I sha'n't mind it. The character of this place is wonderfully different from that of London. I think I can say without affectation, that I miss the fiivolous elegance of the old times before the Revolution, and that in the place of it I see a squalid, beard-grown, vulgar vivacity; but still it is vivacity, infinitely preferable to the frozen and awkward sulk that I have left. Here they certainly wish to be happy, and think that by being merry they are so. I dined yesterday -sith iMr. Fox, and went in the evening to Tivoli, a great planted, illuminated garden, where all the bourgeoisie of Paris, and some of better description, went to see a balloon go up. The aeronaut was to have ascended with a smart girl, his bonne amie; for some reason that I know not, some one else went up in her place; she was extremely mortified; the balloon rose, diminished, vanished into night; no one could guess what might be its fate, and the poor dear one danced the whole evening to shake off her melancholy. " I anm glad I have come here T entertained many ideas cf it, 340 1JIi71 OF CU"IT4ANT. w-hich I have entirely given up, or very muTehi indeed altered. Never was there a scene that could furnish more to the weeping or the grinning philosopher; they well might agree that Luman affairs were a sad joke*. I see it every where, and in every thing. The wheel has run a complete round; only changed some spokes and a few'fellows,' very little for -the better, but the axle certainly has not rusted; nor do I see any likelihood of its rusting. At present all is quiet except the tongue, thanks to those invaluable protectors of peace, the army!! At Tivoli last night we had at least an hundred soldiers, with fixed bayonets. The consul now lives at St. Cloud in a magnificence, solitary, but still fitting his marvellous fortune. He is very rarely seen —he travels by night -is indefatigable-has no favourite, &e. "As to the little affairs at the Priory,t I can scarcely condescenl, after a walk in the Louvre, amid the spirit of those arts which were inspired by freedom, and have been transmitted to power, to think of so poor a subject. I hope to get a letter from you in London, at Osborne's, Adelphi. Many of the Irish are here —not of consequence, to be in danger- I have merely heard of them. Yesterday I met Arthur O'Connor in the street, with Lord and Lady Oxford. Her ladyship very kindly pressed me to dine: but I was engaged. I had bargained for a eabriolet, to go * This idea occurs again in a speech, delivered by Mr. Curran two years subseque'nt to the date of the above letter. "I lnd, my lords, I have undesignedly raised a aough. Never did I less feel merriment-let me not be condemned-let not the laugh be mistaken. Never was Mr. Hume more just than when he says,',:that in many things the extremes are nearer to one another than the menns.' Few are those events, that are produced by vice and folly, which fire the heart with indignation, that do not also shake the sides with laughter.'So when -the two famous moralists of old beheld the sad spectacle of life, the oone burst into laughter, and the othtler melted!nto teas; titey were each of them right and equally right. Si credas utrique'Res -sunt humanae fiebile -ludibrium. But these are the bitter ireful laughs of honest indignation, or they are the laughs of: hectic melancholy and despair.",-,tpeech in behalf of 5Mr. Justice Johnson. t'M1r. usrwan'sa eo, ntry seat it.nhe tvjcicity.f Dfbln.-. OWEN KIRWAi'S TRIAL. 341 and see my poor gossip. Set out at two: at the end of five miles found I was totally misdirected-returned to St. Denys-got a miserable dinner, and was fleeced as usual. I had some vengeance of the tascal, however, by deploring the misery of a country where a stranger had nothing for his dinner but a bill. You feel a mistake in chronology in the two " yesterdays;" but, in fact, part of this was written yesterday, *and the latter part now. I need not desire you to bid any one remember me; but tell thern I remermber them. Say how Eliza does. Tell Amelia and Sarah I do not forget them. God bless you all. "J. P. C.7 A more detailed and elaborate exposition of Mr. Curran's opinions upon the condition of France at this period, and upon the merits of its ruler's system, is contained in a speech which he made the following year in defence of Owen Kirwan,* one of the persons engaged in the insurrection of the 23d of July, 1803. Ii4 undertook the office of counsel for some of these deluded insurgents, not in the expectation that any aid of his could save them, buit because it afforded himn an opportunity of warning his countrymen against a recurrence to such, fatal enterprises, by publicly protesting against their folly and iimninality, and by exposing the fatuity of those who imagined that a revolution, achieved by the assistance of France, could have any other effect than that of subjecting Ireland to the merciless control of that power. His * The trial of Owen Xirwan arose out off Robert Emmett's uinsuccessful attempt at a general insullection, in 180.3. The revolt was over almost before.it commenced. Government made numerous arrests. A special commission was issued for the trial of the prisoners, and the judges were Lord:Norbury, Mr. justice Finucane, and Barons'George and Daly. Nineteen persons were tried; one was acquitted, on-e was respited, and Robert Emmett, with sixteen more, were conyicted and executed. Several of the prisoners were defended by Curran, Ponsonby, and McNally; but Curran's only speech was for Owen Kirwan, who was convicted. No other verdict'could have been given on the evidence, proof'being given of'the outbreak, and of Kirwan (a taiolo in Plunket street, Dublin) having turned out from his shop with a piKe on his shoulder, at the head of several men. It was attempted to be shown, bu't Without success, that Kirwan had slept at home on tihe'nightin'question. IHe Was executed on September 3, 1503.-IM. 31: LIFE OF CURRAN. opinions and advice upon this subject he gave at considerable length in the speech alluded to, which, independent of any other claims to praise, remains an honourable testiimony of his prop:.tness in opposing the passions of the people, where he did not conceive that they were the necessary result of more reprehensille passions in a higher quarter. IIe has hitherto been seen almnst uniformlv exclaiming against the latter as the principal causes of his country's disasters; it is therefore due to him, and to the Government of 1803, to give an exanmple of the difierent language that he used where he considered it deserved.' "I cannot but confess that I feel no small consolation when 1 compare my present with my former situation upon similar occasions. In those sad times to which I allude, it was fiequently my fate to come forward to the spot where I now stand, with a body sinking under infirmity and disease, and a mind broken with the consciousness of public calamity, created and exasperated by public folly. It has pleased heaven that I should live to survive both these afflictions, and I am grateful for its mercy. I now come here through a composed and quiet city-I read no expression in any face, save such as marks the ordinary feelings of social life, or the various characters of civil occupation —I see no firightfuil spectacle of infuriated power or suffering humanity-I see no tortures-I hear no shrieks-I no longer see the human heart charred in the flame of its own vile and paltry passions, black and bloodless, capable only of catching and communicating that destructive fire by which it devours, and is itself devoured-I no longer behold the ravages of that odious bigotry by which we were deformed, and degraded, and disgraced; a bigotry against which no honest man should ever miss an opportunity of putting his countrymen, of all sects, and of all descriptions, upon their guard. "Even in this melancholy place I feel myself restored and re-created by breathing the mild atmosphere of justice, mercy, and humanity-feel I am addressing the parental authority of the law. I feel I am addressing a jury of my countrymen, of my fellow-subjects, and my fellow-Christians, against whom my heart is waging EMMETT' S REVOLT. 343 no ro.'cealed hostility, from whom my face is disg'liuing no latent sentinment of repugnance or disgust. I have not now to touchl the high-raised strings of an angry passion in those that hear me; nor hlave I the terror of thinking, that, if those strings cannot be snapped by the stroke, they will be only provoked into a morel instigated vibration. "I have heard much of the dreadful extent of the conspiracy against this country, of the narrow escape of the Government: you now see the fact as it is. By the judicious adoption of a mild and conciliatory system of conduct, what was six years ago a forrnidable rebellion has now dwindled down to a drunken, riotous insurrection —disgraced, certainly, by some odious atrocities: its objects, whatever they were, no doubt highly criminal; but, as an attack upon the state, of the most contemptible insignificance. "I have no pretension to be the vindicator of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, whose person I do not know that I have ever seen; at the same time, when I am so necessarily forced upon the subject, I feel no disposition to conceal the respect and satisfaction with which I saw the King's representative comport himself as he did, at a crisis of no little anxiety, though of no considerable danger. I think it was a proof of his excellency's firmness and good sense, not to discredit his own opinion of his confidence in the public safety, by an ostentatious display of unnecessary open preparation;,* and I think he did himself equal honour, by preser0ving his usual temper, and not suffering himself to be exasperated by the event, when it did happen, into the adoption of any violent or precipitate measures. Perhaps I may even be excused, if I confess that I was not wholly free from some professional vanity when I saw that the descendant of a great lawyert * Preparation was not made. IIad Emmett's followers congregated in a compact force and assailed the Castle, it must have been taken; for, so unprepared was the Govern. ment, that, whether from carelessness or design there was not a single ball in the arsenal which would fit the artillery!-bM. - t Lord lIardwicke. —M. 344 LiFE OF C URRAN. Mwas capable Ei' remembering what, without the melimry of such an example, he perhaps might not have done, that, even in the o-ln ilent of peril, the law is the best safeguard of the constitution. At llI events, I feel that a man, who, at all times, has so freely ii~nsured the extravagancies of power and force as I have done, is justified, if not bound, by the consistency of character, to give the'fai attestation of his opinion to the exercise of wisdom and.quluanity wherever he finds them, whbther in a friend or in a stranger." Uipon the subject of the mere political folly, setting even apart all moral tie of duty or allegiance, or the difficulty or the danger" of Ireland's desiring to separate from England, and fraternize with Fraeice, Mr. Curran observes, "Force only can hold the acquisitions of the French Consul. What community of interest can he have with the different nations that he has subdued and plundered? clearly none. Can he venture to establish any regular and protected system of religion among them? Wherever he erected an altar, he would set up a monument of condemnation and reproach upon those wild and fantastic speculations which he is pleased to dignify with the name of philosophy, but which other men, perhaps because they are endowed with a less aspiring intellect, conceive to be a desperate, anarchical atheism, giving to every man a dispensing power for the gratification of his passion, teaching him that he may be a rebel to his conscience with advantage, and to his God with impunity. Just as soon would the government of Britain venture to display the crescent in their churches, as an honorary member of all faiths to show any reverence to the cross in his dominions. Apply the same reasoning to libertv. Can he venture to give any reasonable portion of it to his subjects at home, or his vassals abroad? The answer is obvious: sustained merely by military force, his unavoidable policy is to make the armry every thing and the people n'othing. If he ventured to elevate his soldiers into citizens and his wretched subjects into freemen, FRAUNTCE AND IRELAND. 345 he would form a confederacy of mutual interest between both, agrinsllt which he -could not exist a moment. "I may be asked ame these merely my own speculations, or have others in Irelantd aIdopted thlle. I answer fireely, noZn *neus hie sermo est. It is to rmy own knowledge, the result of serious reflection? in numbers of our countrymen. In the storm of arbitrary sway, -in the i'distraction -of torture and suffering, the human mind hail0 lost its poise anrd tone, andi was incapable of sober reflection; but, by removing those terrors from it, by:holding an even hand between all palties, by -,lisldaiing!the patronage of any sect or faction, -tle people -of Ireland were left at liberty to consider her real situation and interest; andt happily for herself, I trust in God,:she ]has availed -herself of the opportunity. ~With respect to t1he higher orders, even of tllose who thought they had somre cause to'com00plain, I know thlSis to -be the-fact-they are -not so blind as not to see the diffrene_*l, betweenn ibeing -proud, and jealous, and -punctilious, in any claiml. of privilege or right between Dthemselves and their fellow subjects, antd. the mad and desperate depravity of seeking the redress -of.arny cldi.satisft.ction ithalt they might feel, by all appeal to folrce, or the dred; i;II recourse to treason and to blood. As to the -humbler orlder of.oulr — Tp lea, for whom, I confess, I feel the greatest.sympathy, -because t.helre are more of them to -be undone-I have, not tlle:same.op )portulnity o)f.-kknowing.their actual opinions;:but if their opinions be -othler than I -think they ought to bie, wotld to God they were p,'esen t in this place, or -that I had the' opportunlity of going inlto tleilr -icottages-rand lthey well know I shoilld not disdain -to visit tlhen, iandtI to speak to stheml -thhe language of affection:and candourolnl the sllltject-l shlould have little diffictlty iin sowing to tlleir quick and aplreltensi-ve mninds how easy it is, when the tBheart is incensed, to confound the evils -which are inseparable fromn the ldestiny of ilmperfect nman, with those which arise from the faults or errors of his political situation. I would Fput - a few questi'ns to:theirc andid, Anadulterated sense: Do 15* 346 LIFE OF CUIRRAN. you thinL you have made no advance to civil prosperity within the last twenty years? Are your opinions of modern and subjugated France the same that you entertained of popular and revolutionary France fourteen years ago? Ialve you any hope, that, if the first Consul got possession of your island, he would treat you half so well as he does those countries at his door, whom he must respect more than he can respect or regard you? Can you suppose that the perfidy and treason of surrendering your countlr to an invader would, to your new nmaster, be any pledge of your allegiance? Can you suppose. that, while a single Freilch soldier was willing to accept an acre of Ir.sh ground, lie would leave that acre in the"possession of a man who had shown hilnself so stupidly (lead to the suggestions of the most obvious inlterest, and to the ties of the most imperious morai obl;,gations? I)Do you think lie would feel any kind-hearted sympathy foir youl Answel yourselves by asking, what sympathy does lhe feel for Frenchmlen, whom he is ready by thousands to bury in the ocean, in the barbarous gambling of his wild ambition2? What sympathy, then, could bind him to you? Ile is not your countryman: the scene of your birtll aid your childhood is not endeared to his heart by the reflection that it was also the scene of his. lie is not your fellow-Christian: he is not, therefore, bound to you by any simi larity of duty in this world, or by any union of hope beyond tle grave; what, then, could you Sllpp)ose the object of his visit, or the consequence of his success? ( vCan you be so foolish as not to see that he would use you as slaves while lie held you; and that when lie grew weary, which he would soon become, of such a worthles& and precarious lpossession, he w(ould carry you to market in sollme treaty of peace, barter you for some more valuable concession and surrender you to expiate by your punishment and degradation, the advantage you had given him by your follies and your crimes." The particulars of the scene on the night of the 23d of July are LORD KILWARDEN. 341 not inserted here.* It resembled a riot rather than insurrection, and was alarnming only because it was unexpected; for, notwithstan,iding the m'nomentary panic which it excited, in a few hours the public tranquillity was restored; yet however innocuous to the state, it w'as to Ireland a great calamity. It revived and confirlled many sentimenl ts of internal animosity and distrust, by fatir I proving that the elements of disorder were not extinct; it violt.ia,iy tor.from the services of his country the respected Lord KIiluwaden, one of the mm,,t upright of her magistrates; the wisest, because the gentlest, in hert councils; the ncman who of all otllers least required sulch a marltyrdom to consecrate his name. It is scarcely necessary to add, that to Mr. Curran the fatte of a person whom he had so long loved and honoured, and who in the season of trial had proved so tender a friend to him, and to thiir common country, was P, source of profound and lasting affliction.t * The account of the plan of insurrection, drawn up -by Mr. Rlobert Emmett during his imprisonment, has been published.-C. t It is universalgly agreed that the murler of this excellent man was the unpreme-ditated act of a ferocious rabble; but there are various accounts of their probabile motivet in wantonly sacrificing so upright and humane a judge to their fury. A popular explanation of this is, that that the perpetrators mistook him for another person. There is also an account whichl admits thle mistake in the tirst instance, but subjoins other particulars wh;ich appear sufficiently probable; an(d as sotne of the facts, of which there ars no doubt, reflect the highest Ihoniour upon Lord.Kiltrarden's memory, the whole shall be given 1:ere. In the year 1795, when he was Attorney-General, a number of young mer (all of shorn were between the age of fifteen and twenty) were indicted for high tr:ason. Upon the day appointed for their trial they appeared in the dock, wearing shirts -ith tuckers and open collars, in the manner usual with boys. When the Chief Justice of the King's Bench, before whom they were to to be tried, came into court and observed them, he called out, "W ell, Mr. Attorney, I suppose you're ready to go on with the trial of these tuckered traitors?" The Attorney-General was ready, and had attended for the purpose; but indignant and disgusted at hearing such language from the judgment seat, he rose, and replied, " No, my lord, I am not ready; and, (added he, in a low tone to one of the prisoners' counsel who was inear hill) if I have any power to save the lives of these boys, vwhose extremne youth I did not before observe, that man shall never have the gratification of passing sentence of death upon a single one of these tuckered traitors." lie perfornmed his promise, aind soon after procured pardons for them all, upon the condition of their expatriating themselves for ever; but one of them obstinately refusing to accept the plardon upon that condition, lie was tried, convicted and executed. Thus far the facts rest upon credible authoriti, s; what follows is given as an unauthenticated report. After 8AS LIFE OF CURRAN. But it ras not solely in this point of view that tile late events afiected Mr. Curran: there were some accompanying cirlculmstances which more intimately related to himself; and however painful their it;loducition may be, it yet becomes every one who hs a selnse of the fidelity which is due to the public whom hle'addresses,:not to screen himself behind his personal feelings, where a para.. moulnt duity demands their sacrifice; still less WvoNuld he, upon whoml,llat duty at present devolves, be justified under such a pretext, in leaving the possibility of any misconception or lreproach regarding one whose memory the'coimbined sentiments of'naturle, of country, and of individual respect, impel him to cherish and revere. In the following facts, as far as they ale generally connected witlh M1. Curran,'there is iindeed no new disclosu'e. It is a inmatter of lotoriety, that at this period hlis house was searched -that he appealred himself before the members of the IPrivy Council; that a rumlour prevailed, to which his political enemies gave a ready credit, and as far as they could, a confirmation, that lie was personally impillicated in the recent conspiracy. To be silent, tllelefore, upon a subject so well known, would be a fruitless effortt to suppress it;; to allude to it remotely and timidly would be to imply that the "wNhlcl'e could not bear to be told: it only remains then'to give an explicit:statement'of'the particulars, and to subjoin onie or two ooriginal documents, which will be found to corroborate it in everS esselltial point.'lhe projectoir of the late insurrection, Mr. Robert Emmliett, who was a young gentleman of a highly respectable family, of very striking talents and'interesting manners, was in the habit of visitthe death of this young'man, his relatives (it is said) readily listening to every misrepre. sentation which flattered-their resentment, became persuaded that the Attorney.General had selected him alone to suffer'the utmost severity of the law. One of these (a person'named Shanion) Was'a n insurgent on the 23d of'July, and when Lord Kilwarden, hearing the popular c'ry for vei.geance,'exclaimed from his carriage, " It is I, Kilwarden, Chief Justice of the'King's lench!" "Then," cried out Shannon. "you're the man that I want!" and plunged' Ipike into his lordship's body. Tis story'was current'among the lto6*er orders' in Dutili,,Who were most ltkely to know the falet.-C. ROBERT EMMETT. 349 in at Mr. C-urran's house: here he soon formed an attachment for ISarah] Mr. Curran's youngest daughter. Of the progress of that at;tachment, and of tile period and occasion of his divulging it to her, Mr. Emmett's letters, inserted herealter, contain all'that is to be told. It is necessary, however,'to alddi, as indeed will appear from those letters, that her father remained hn total ignorance of thie motive of iMr. Emmett's visits, untill`subse-qluent events mad it known to all,. To a man of his:elebrity and attract.ive convelsa tion, there seemed nothing singuhlar in'finding his society cultivated:by any young person to whom he afforded,(as lhe so generally did to all) the opportmunities of enjoying it. As the period,'however, of the intended insurrection approachled), Mr. Curran bef.ganl to suspect, firol minute iandications, which would probably. h1ave escaped a less skilful observer, that his young Visiter was, aetuate i by some strong:passions, which it cost:hil a perpetual effirt to, conceal; and in consequence; without assigning to those appearances any precise'motive, or giving the subject much'attention, he, in general terms, recommended to his famllily not to allow what was at present only a casual -acqluaintance to ripen into -a greater deglree of intimacy. Upon'the failure of thle insurrection, its'leader escaped, and succeeded for some weeks in secreti'ng hilmself. There is reasoll to believe, that had he attended solely to his safety, he could hacve easilyv effected his departure -friom thie kingdoml; but in the sali-e spirit of romantic enthusiasm which distinguished his short career,'he could'not submit to leave a country to which'he could never more return, witlout makingr an effort to have onle final interview with the object of'his unfortunate attachment, in order to receive her personal forgiveness'for whlat he mnow considered as the deepest iljurvy. It was apparently with a, \iew to obtaining this la::t gratification that he selected the place of concealment in whicll he was discovered: lie was a:rirested in a house situated miidwav between Dublin and Mr. Curran's country seat. Upon his person were found some iplmers,;Mich,:&ttll ed'lthat subsequent'to -the 350 LFE OF CUR N. insurrection he had colrespo)ndecd with one of that gentleman's fti:lily: a warrant accordingly followed as a matter of course, to examine Mr. Curran's house, where some of Mr. Emmnett's letters were found, whiclh, together with the documents taken upon iis person, placed beyod;l doubt his connection with the late conspiracy, and were afterwards used as evidence upon his trial. It was fi'rom trils legal proceedling that Mr. Curran received the first intimaltion of tile melancholy'attachmuent in which one of his children had been involved. This is not the place to dwell upon thle agony %lwhich such a (liscovery occasioned to the private feelings of thle ltther. It was not tile private calamity alone which he had t,) dleplore; it camle embittered 1by other circumstances, which, -ir th1e mllellt,, gave his sensibility an intenser shock. He was a'p1o0 linent pullic character, andtl firomn the intrepid resistance which lie had uniformly nmade in the senate and at the bar to the unconstitutional measures of the state, was inevitably exposed to the political hatred of many, who would have oloriedl in the ruin -of his reputation as in a decisive triumph over those principles which ine had all his life supported. Ile had seen and exp)eliencedl too mnuch of party calumny not to apprehend that it would show little respect for a misfortune whicll could afolrd a pretext for accusation; and however secure he migolt feel as to the final results of tlhe most merciless investigation, he still could not contemplate without anguish the possibility of having to sufl-er the "humiliation of an acquittal." 13ut hlis mind was soon relieved friom all such distressingr anticipations. lie waited upon tIhe Attorney-General,* and tendered his person and papers to abide any inquiry whichl the government might deeml it expedient to direct. That officer entered. into his situation with the most prompt and marnly syw ipathy, and instead of assuming the character of an accuser of * The right honourable Standish O'(7rady, the present Chief Baron of the Exchequer tn Ireland.-C. [Standish O'Grady, was created Baron O'Grad(y of Rockbarton, and Viscount Guiliamore, of Caher Guillarnore, in the County of Limerick, in 1881, when ha quilted the Bench. He died in April, 1840, aged 74 years. —M.] CU'ITIAN SUSPECTED. 35 the father, more generously displayed his zeal ini.interceding for the child. At his instance Mr. Cu.n.rran accompanied him to the Privy Council. Upon his first entrance there was so.m indication of the hostile spirit which lie had originaslly aipprehended. A noble lord, who at that time held. the highest judici.:A situattion in Ireland,* undertook to examine him upon the tlasnzsaion which had occasioned his attendance. To do this was undior.btledly his duty; but overstepping his duty, or at least his prudei.nce, he thought proper to preface his intended questions by an aut.6rn'. authoritative air, of which the palpable mneaning was, that h:o c.onsidered intimidation as the most effectual mode of extractin tlhe truth. l-e fixed his eye upon Mr. Curran, and was proceeding to cross-examine his countenance, when (as is well remembered by the spectators of the scene) the swell of indignation, and the glance of stern dignity and contempt which he encountered: there, gave his own nerves the shock which he had meditated for another's, and compelled him to shrink back into his chair, silent and disconcerted at the failure of his rash experiment. With this single exception, Mr. Curran was treated with the utmost delicacy; for this he was principally indebted to the friendship of the Attorney-General, who finding that every inquily and document upon the subject explained all the circumstances beyond the possibility of an unfavourabl conjecture, humanely and (where it wals necessarly) firmly iliterposed his;uthority, to save the feelings of thlle )arent frim any additional affliction.'I'The following are the letters which it seems requisite to il.trodlucte. There was a timlle when the publication of them woulld have excited pain, but that time is past. The only persons to whom such a proceeding could have given a pang, the father and the child, are now beyond its retach; and tLeir survivor, who from, a sense of duty permits tllem to see the light, does so under a fidll parsuasion, that all those who from personal knowledge, oL * The Earl of Clare, his old nutagonist. —M. 3:52 LIF3 OF CURRAN. firom report, may- sometimes recall their memories with sentiments of tenderness or ~esteem, will find nothingf in.,he contents of those documlents which ca:tl prosvoke the inltrusion o' a harsher feeling. FROM1I MR. ROBERI'T E3M1mE'rT TO JOHIN PIHILPOT CURRAN, ESQ. "I did not expect you to be my counsel.* I nominated youl, because not to have done so rnight have appeared remarkable. Hadl Mr. b —- eenl in town, I did not even wish to haIve seen yoa; but as he was'not, I wrote to you to:come to zmie once. I;n. owv tthat I have ldone you very severe injury, much greater tlh:an -I can atone fftr with;l my life'::thlat atonement [Idid offer to mnake be fore the Privy Council, b)y pleading guilty, if those doculnents were suppressed.t:I oflered fnore —- offered, if I was permiltte d to cc-,nsult -scme persons, and if they would consent to an accoimmcll"ltion for sav"ing the lives of others, that I would only require for my part of it;the suppression of those documents, and that I would':abide thie eventt of my own trial. This also was rejected; ~and:othing but in(lividual iniformation,(with the'exception of' names) would be taken. My inltention was, not to leave the sup* Curran had originally been named as one of Emmett's coutisel, but the delicacy of lhis sit iation:rfoibade his acting. He;had thie highest olpiniton (of him, and subsequlently Said: " would have believed the word of Einmett as soon as the oatll of any lmanl I ever knew." —M. t His letters t' Sarah Currtan.-In fa ct, the latteis tere riot bro0rlght lfiefore the Cour;t, on the trial, and, in fulfilment of the corllpact, Emmet:t,niade no legal defence. -His celebrated speech was Jafter conviction, when he was called up to offer any cause why sentence should not be passed..'Thle readiler of Wasliington Irving (the Wihole world), w:wil recollect that the unhappy;, - es o E'Elrumett nd Saraih Cu,tran, supplied a sulbject oIr one of the most touching and p?.th.;etic( papers in "The,ketch Book." After Eusinett's execution, houme becamle c!i.?anied to Sarah Ctlur.n, andl she went to live in the house of Mr. Penrose near Cork. Tl.,c.r:v, Capt;in Sttirgeohlprevailed upoh hlr to-m i,tion of any opinion, but the engrossment of power.n-:i!lll ndof, of hlomag-e and tribute. Such, I much fear, was tlhe ie-ai or'igin of the i'op'ry laws. But power and. privile=ge trst necessarily be confined to very few. In hostile armies lyctl find- them p)retty equal, the victors and the vanquished, iat ~2te nuan;bers of their hospitals and in the numlnbers of their dei a; so it is with nations, the great mass is despoiled and degradled, but the spoil itself is confined to few indeed. The result finailyr ior be nothing but the disease of dropsy adl declrepitude. In Irelarl this was peculiarly tie case. Religion was disholnoltned, man was dlegraded, and social affection was almost extinguished. Afew, a veryfew still pi-ofited by this abasement of hunmanity. But let it be retembered, with a just feeling of gratefuil respect to their patriotic an'd disinterested virtue, and it is for this purpose that I have alluded as I have done, that that fJw composed the whole power of the legislature whiclh concurred in the repeal of that system,'and left relnaining of it, not an edifice to be demolished, but a mere heap of rubbish, unsightly, perhaps pernicious, to be carted away. "If the repeal of those laws had been a mere abjuration of intolerance, I should have given it little credit. The growing knowledge of the world, particularly of the sister nation, had disclosed and ulnnasked intolerance, had put it to shame, anld consequently to flight! But though. public opinion may proscribe intoler(nce, it canlot take away powers or privileges established by laiw.'hl{os plowers of exclusion and monopoly could be given up only 3by tne generous relinquishment of those who possessed them. And nobly were they so relinquished by those repealing statutes. Those lovers of their country saw the public necessity of the 380 LIFE OF CURRAN. sacrifice, and most disinterestedly did they make it. If too, they have been singular in this virtue, they have been as singularly fortunate in their reward. In general, the legislator, tlougll he sows the seed of public good, is himself numbered with the dead~( before the harvest can be gathered. With Lus it has not Leun so —with us the public benefactors, many of them at least, have lived to see the blessing of IIeaven upon their virtue, in an uL:iformnly accelerating progress of industry and comfort, and liberality, and social affection, and common interest, such as I do not believe that any age or nation has ever witnessed. " Such I do know was the view, and such the hope, with which that legislature, now no more! proceeded so far as they went, in the repeal of those laws so repealed. And well do I know how warmly it is now r(.lembered by every thinking Catholic, that not a single voice for those repeals was or could be given, except' by a Protestant legislator. With infinite pleasure do 1 also know and feel, that the same sense of justice and good will which then produced the "repeal of those laws, is continuing to act, and with increasing energy, upon those persons in both countries, whose worth and who.e wvisdom are likely to explode whatever pr]inciple is dictatled by bigotry~and folly, and to give currency and action to whatever principle is wise and salutary. Such, also, ] know to be the feelings qf every court in this hall. It is from this enlarged and humanized spirit of legislation that courts of justice ougtht to take their princzjples of expounding the law. "At another time I should probably have deemed it riglht to preserve a more respectfill distance from some sulbjects whi;.l' I have presumed (but certainly with the best intenltiots, and I hope, no unbecoming freedoml), to salprach. Blt 1 See lthe inte,'est the question has excited, and I think it right to let no 1p lerson ci;=arry away with him any mistake, ats to the grounds of nly'de ijsion, or suppose that it is either the duty or the disposition,f our cor'Orts to make any harsh or jealous distinctidns in their judgment CURIt.N s LATER YSEARS. 381 founded on any digferences of reliyiobs sects or tenets. I think therefore, the motion ought to be refused; and I think myself bound to mark still more strongly my sense of its impropriety, by refusing it with full costs."] The remaining years of Mr. Curran's life contain little of incident. His time was passed without much variety between the duties of his judicial situation, and the enjoyment of that social intercourse for which his taste continued undiminished to the last It was observed by his fiiends, to whom he was an object of so much interest that the slightest circumstance connected with him attracted their attention, that his spirits began to decline from the moment of his elevation to the bench. He felt sensible himself that the sudden discontinuance of those modes of intellectual exercise, which an uninterrupted habit of so many years had relndered anlost a necessary of life, was impairing the health of his mindY.' All his powers were still in the fullest vigor, and ho * It was at this time that Charles Phillips ma(le the acquaintance of Mr. Curran. He thus describes its commencement; "When I was called to the bar he was on the bench; and, not only bagless, but briefless, I was one day, with many an associate, taking the idle round of the hall of the Four Courts, when a common friend told me he was commissioned by the Master of the Rolls to invite me to dinner that day at the Priory, a little country villa about four miles from Dublin. Those who recollect their first introduction to a really great man, may easily comprehend my delight and my consternation. Ifour after hour was counted as it passed, and, like a timid bride, I feared the one which was to make me happy. It came at last, the important.fitve o'clock, the ne plus ultra. of the guest who would not go dinnerless at Curran's. Never shall I forget my sensations when I caught the first glimpse of the little man through the vista of his avenue. There he was, as a thouskand times afterwarlt I saw }him, in a dress which you would imagine he had borrowed from his tip-staff-his hands on his sides-his face almost parallel with the horizon —his under lip protruded, and the impatient step and the eternal attitude only varied by the pause during which his eye glanced from his guest to his watch, and from his watch reproachfully to his dining. room. It was an invincible peculiarity; one second after five o'clock,: and he womil nuot wait for the viceroy. The moment he perceived me, he took me by the hand, sail he would not have any one introduce me, and with a manner which I often thought was chatrPned, at once banished every apprehension, and completely familiarized me at the Priogy. I had often seen Curran-often heard of him-often read him, but no man ever knew any thing about him who did not see him at his own table with the few whom he selected. Ho was a little convivial deity! He soared in every region, and was at home in all; he touch 382 LIFE OF CURRAN. could not but feel discontented and mortified at findiI g them (not so much released from toil as) condemned to repose. In the hope of renioving this inquietude by indulging his faculties in their accustomed tastes, he began to project one or two literary works. * One of them, and which it is much to be regretted that he had not the fiIrmness to execute, was melnoirs of his own time; but all tile entreaties of his fiiends, and all his own resolutions, gave way beif;s'e his unconquerable aversion to written compositions. The ouni} notice of this intended xxork found among his papers, was the following motto and preface: ed every thing, and seemed as if he had created it; he mastered the human heart with the same ease that he did his violin. You wept, and you laughed, arnd you wondered: and the wonderful creature who made you do all at will never let it a pi.e.r hat hle was more than your eqsal, and was quite willing, if you chose, to become your auditor. It is said of Swift that his rule was to allow a minute's pause after lie had conclid.led, and then, if no person took up the conversation, he recomnmenced. Curranl hadl no conversation:tl rule whatever; he spoke from impulse; and( he had the art so to draw you into a p:rti'pation, that, though you fuet an inferiority, it was qullite a contented one. Ilzde:l, n:;d' - ing could exceed the urbanity of his demeanour. At tle time 1 speak of lie was turned of sixty, yet he was as playful as a child. The etxl!remles of youth alnd age were met in him; h.i hlad the experience of the one andl the sirnm;!i:ity of the other. At five o'clock we sat down to dinner, luring which the host gave ample indications that it was one of his happy days. He hald his moody ones: there was tno one more uncertain. Joyous was my anticipation of a delightful evening. iBut, alas! what are the hopes of man? When the last dish had departed, Ctllrrali totally confounded me with a proposal, for which I was anything but:rep;ared —' MIr. Phillips, as this is the first of, I hope, your very many visits to the Priory, I n;!y as well at once initiate you into the peculiarities of the place. You may observe, though the hoard is cleared, there are no preparations for a symposieumn: it all depetnds uponl you. My friends here generally prefer a qahlk: after dinner. It is a sweet eventing; lhut ir you wish for wine, say so without ceremony.' Even now I can see Cllran's statr-like eyes twinkling at the disaippointment no doubt visible in mine. I had heardl, and truly, that he was never more delightful than vwith half a dozen friends, after dlrinier, ove:rl is bottle. Tle hope in which I~ had so long revelled was realized at last-and here (aile hlis infernal walk.and the sweet evening!' Oh, how I would have hailed a thulndter-stormn! Put, to say the truth, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, A;nd the flowers were blooming and breathing so sweetly on that autumn eve, that, wonderi:,X nort at the wish of my compatnions, I also voted for the' walk.' Never was mlan so imystifled. We took the walk, no dioubt, but it was only to the drawing-room, where, over a les'sert freshly culled from his gardens, and over wines l-ir which his board was cele1,a:ted, we passed those hours vwhicb frmed anl era in elmy life. It was the conmmiencetrent of that happy intercourse which gave this world -a charnm it ought, perhaps, never to possess." * l-e left a novel mlore than half finished, and a long criticism on Mi;lton.-M. LITERARY PROJECTS. 383 "'You that propose to be the historian of yourself, go first and trace out the boundary- of your grave —strets h forth your hand and touclh the stone that is to imark your head, and swear by the Majesty of Death, that your testimony shall be true, unwarped by pr,judice, ltlll.iassed by fa mour, and unstained by malice; so mavlast thou b1J a witness not unwortltly to be exam:ined before the awful tribtnal of that after time, whilch cannot blegin, until you shall have beeln numbered with the deadl. " I have freu.iently conceived the design of writing some memoirs of m1 seill and of the times in which I hlave lived, but I h1ave!,-,eni prevented,1 by other avocations, not very comlpatible with such put p'll',se. I Nwas altso deterred by the great hazarda to which evelry ilnn is exposed whho velltilres to take himself for a subject. What security can he offer to iiillself or to his reader against the gloss.s;,and p.lrversions of false modePty and vain glory? How canr he stt.isfv,-itier tl-lat he is not an advocate, when lie should bo or.nl- a ro.-prter? A.s to the strange and wayward destinies that ha-e. a.,itated tlhis unhaplpy countryl (liltring the interval I slpeak of — wlhen I rocollec t the strong incitelltirlt that I felt as an observer or:an aactor, can'I hope to subside it.o that unfevered moderation, without wlhicl 1 can scalcely be coulpltent to the task of reviewing or recording thel? And yet, I)eral)ps, in mny strong feeling of the difi-ctllty and tire danger, tlhere may be soene hope of escape. The consciousnlless mt ly l,: some satligtlard against mnyselft and the fairness of the avowal will naturally perevent thle reader from following me wlhen I am led astray. I lIave ther(tbre lresolved to make some attempts upon the subje(t, iii such intervals of health or of leisure as I m.av be able t.; coimmiand; p1ustin,1, it in that way, I cannl)t,lope for munc.h uilllnuttlenss of dletail, or tnmnch exacltness of connexion. 1:ut, ho'wever illlp:,rte't tile plefbrmllalme 11maly be, and indeed must be t,,lu.i'd such!'i.cutltstai.c: es,'t if it sallt contribute to preserve tile e- o ry of scomlil^'Ctes, anld of sollme actors, that ought not to peristh. L Should be pr lser\ed fo1- the purpose ot praise, or punishment, or exanmiSp, l - ly taboli, howeverhumble, will not be without its use." 38'4 LnE OF OURRA. He thus alludes to the same subject in one of his private letters' "I have long thought of doing somnething on the tine in which I have myself lived, and acted, and suffered; from the bringing Ireland, in 1782, from the grave in which she had slept for so many centuries, to her reinterment in 1800; after so short an interval of hectical convalescence, and of hope so cruelly and effectually assailed and extinguished, probably for ever! This must, of necessity, draw me to collateral notice of myself in some small and very subordinate degree-the few events that befel myself-and'the sentiments and opinions that I entertained utplon public affairs, together with the notions that I formed.as a public and professional man. Perhaps the strong terror wllich I anticipate at the possible seductions of silly vanity and egotisnl nSay be some antidote against their poison. And yet, perhaps, on tlhis very point, my present feelings should convince me how little I have to hope from my own caution or discretion. I ani conscious tl:at I feet uneasy at thinking that the fooleries and falseloods that have been published as memoirs of me during my life, will be more wantonly repeated when I am gone, which nlust te soon. And though I now think my only idea is.to leave belilnid me some little postscript, merely to prevent misrepreseultaioln, and modestly confining itself within the extreme insignificance of the subject, who, my dear Dick, will go bail for the qfuill that is born of a goose a" Another and a more favourite design, whichi the same distaste to writing involved in a similar fa.te, was the composition of a nlovel, of which the scenes an(ld characters w-ere to Fe connected with the modern history of Ireland. Ofi this work, which since the period of the Union he hatd been meflltating, his mind had completed the whole plan: he often repeated long passages, descriptive of the most interesting situations, and marked by a style, of affecting eioquence, which would have rendered the work, had lie submitted to the task of committing it to paper, a valuable and very original a.c:.Gsaion to that department of English literature. CORRESPONDENCE. 3S5 However, although subsequent to Mr. Curran's leaving the bar, his mind produced little that could add to his previous reputation, there still remain many farther examples of his style and opinions, preserved in his letters on private and public subjects, and in occasional speeches, from which a selection shall be introduced in the remaining portion of his history. The greater number of the private letters are written from England, which, notwithstanding his constant complaints against what he considered the cold unsocial manners of its people, he seized every opportunity of visiting, and seldom quitted without reluctance and despondency. This was particularly the case since the Union, of which the effects had been so fatal to the society of the Irish capital. TO LEONARD M'NALLY ESQ. DUBLIN. " GODWIN', 41 SKINNER STRBIT, LONDxo.* "DEAR MAC, "I got the cover yesterday, thinking to write a very long wise letter to you;' now I have only the few moments that G.'s griskin takes to be burnt. Poor Tooke is, I fear, at his last. A singular man! One glory he has eminently-he has been highly valued by many good men of his day, and persecuted by almost every scoundrel that united the power with the will to do so. His talents were of the first stamp, his intellect most clear, his attachment to England, I think, inflexible, his integrity not to be seduced, and his personal courage not to be shaken. If this shall be admitted, he has lived long enough; and if it is not, he has lived too long. "My health is much better; my breast quite free, the pain gone, nmy appetite rather better, sleep not so profound, spirits flatter, temper more even, altogether some gainer by the reduction of wine. At your side, I understand, my good friends have Sangradoed me, but I have taken only the water; no bleeding for me. I have written to Amelia; that may save you some three pages, which * (odwin, the novelist, kept a book-shop in Skinner street, at this time.-M. 17 386 TIFE OF CURRAN. might be blank and written at the same time. I would beg a line, but I shall have set out too soon to get it. No news hele, but what the papers give you; they are all mad about the convention; I differ from them totally, as I feel a disposition to do on every subject. "'I am glad to hear you are letting yourself out at Old Orchard; you are certainly unwise in giving up such an inducement to exercise, and the absolute good of being so often in good air. I have been talking about your habit without naming yourself, I am more persuaded that you and Egan are not sufficiently afraid of Weak liquors. I can say, from trial, how little pain it costs to correct a bad habit. On the contrary, poor nature, like an ill-used mistress, is delighted with tile return of our kindness, and is anxious to show her gratitude for that return, by letting us see how well she becomes it. "I am the more solicitous upon this point from having made this change, which I see will make me waited for in heaven longer than' perhaps they looked for. If you do not make sdme pretence for lingering, you can have no chance of conveying me to the wherry; and the truth is, I do not like surviving old friends. I am somewhat inclined to wish for posthumous reputation; and if you go before me, I shall lose one of the most irreconcilable of my trumpeters; therefore, dear Mac, no more water, and keep the other element, your wind, for the benefit of your friends. I will show my gratitude as'well as I can, by saying handsome things of you to the saints and angeis before you come. Best regards t) all with you. "Yours, &c. "J. P. C." TO MISS PHILPOT, DUBLIN. LoUDON CAShEE (Scotlacnd), Sept. 12, 1810. "The day is too bad for shooting, so I write. We arrived in miserable weather at Donaghadee; thence we set sail for the TOUR I SCTLAND. 3$8T Port, where, after a prosperous' oyage of ten hours, we- arrived. Two English gentlemen had got before us to the inn, and engaged four horses, all there were; two might have drawn them:one very short stage, and they saw, us,.prepare to set out with a cart, which. we did, and I trust with a..cargo of more. good manners and good huimour aboard us than the two churls could boast in their chaise and four. "I was greatly delighted,with this country; you see no trace here of the Devil working.: against. the wisdom and beneficence of God, and torturing and degrading. his creatures.. It seems the romancing of travelling; but I am. satisfied. of the fact,,that the poorest man here.has his children taught to read, and write, and that in every house is found a Bible, and jn, almost, every-house a clock; and the fruits.of this are manifest in. the intelligence. andmanners of all ranks.. The natural effect.of literary inrformation,in all its stages, is to give benevolence.and modesty. Let the intellectual taper burn ever so brighltly, the horizon-which it lights is sure but scanty; and if it soothes.our vanity a,little, as being, the circle of our light, it, must. cbheck..it, also, as being the boundary of the interminable regionwof darkness. that lies.be-yond it. I never knew. any person of any real taste -and feeling, in whom knowledge and humility were. not in. exact proportion. In Scotland what a work hav.e the four and twenty letters to show for themselves! —, the natural enemies of vice,, and folly, and slavery; the: great sowers, but. still -greater weeders, of the. human soil. No where can you see the cringiig hypocrisy of dissembled detestation, so inseparable from oppression, and as little do you meet.-the hard, and dull, and,right lined angles of the southern visage; you find the notion exact and the phrase direct, with the natural tone of the Scottish muse. "The first night, at Ballintray, the landlord attended us at' supper;. he woulddo so, though we begged him not. We talked to him of the cultivation of potatoes. I said I wondered at his taking them in place of his native food, oatmeal, so much more substantial. ;388 LIFE OF CURRMI. His answer struck me as very characteristic of the genius of Scotland-frugal, tender and picturesque.'Sir,' said he,'we are not so much i' the wrong as you think; the tilth is easy, they are swift i' the cooking, they take little fuel; and then it is pleasant to see the gude wife wi' a' her bairns aboot the pot, and each wi' a potato in its hand.' "We got on to Ayr. It was fortunate; it was the last day of the rain and the first of the races; the town was unusually full, and we stood at the inn door-no room for us.'My dear Captain,'* said I,'I suppose we must lie in the streets.'' No, that you shall not,' says a good-looking man-it was Campbell of Fairfield-' my wife and I knew you were coming, and we have a warm bed ready for you; she is your countrywoman, and I am no stranger to you; I had a trial in Dublin eight years ago, and you were in the cause.''Oh! yes, sir, I remember; we beat the enemy.''Oh! yes, sir,' says Campbell of Fairfield,' I beat the enemy, though you were at his head.' I felt my appetite keen. I was charmed with the comical forgiveness of his hospitality. I assured him I heartily forgave him for thrashing my rascal client; and a few moments brought me to the kind greeting of my very worthy countrywo7manl. They went a little aside, and I overheard their whispers about dinner. Trouble, you may suppose, I did not wish to give; but the feeling of the possible delay by an additional dish, was lly panic.'My dear Madam, I hope you won't make me feel that I am not one of your family by adding any thing.''No, that I won't,' says she;' and if you doubt my word, I'll give you the security of seven gentlemen against any extravagance.' So saying, she pointed to a group of seven miniatures of young men, * The late Joseph Atkinson, Esq., of Dublin.-C. [He was one of Moore's earliest and best friends, and ample justice was done to his merits and his memory, by " the poets of all circles," in some beautiful stanzas on his death. It may be remembered that one of Mloore's Juvenile Poems was a "Familiar Epistle," addressed to Mir. Atkinson, to whom, also, was written a missive from Bermuda, in Moore's Odcs and Epistles from Ame. rlca.-M.] ADMIRATION OF SCOTLAND. 389 that hung over the fire-place.'Six of those poor fellows are all over the earth; the seventh, and these two little girls, are with us; you will think that good bail against the wickedness of extravagance. Poor fellows!' she repeated.'Nay, madam, don't say " poor fellows," at the moment when you feel that hospitality prevents the stranger from being a poor fellow. You don't think this the only house in the world where the wanderer gets a dinner, and a bed; who knows, my dear countrywoman, but Providence is at this moment paying to some of your poor fellows far away frioll you, for what your kind heart thinks it is giving for nothing.''Oh, yes,' cried she;' God bless you for the thought.''Amen, my dear madam,' answered I;' and I feel that he has done it.' "' We were much pleased with the races; not, you may suppose, at a few foolish horses forced to run after each other, but to see so much order and cheerfulness; not a single dirty person nor a ragged coat. I was introduced to many of their gentry, Lord Eglington, Lord Casselis, Lord Archibald Hamilton, &c., and pressed very kindly to spend some time with them. " Poor Burns!-his cabin could not be passed unvisited or unwept; to its two little thatched rooms-kitchen and sleepingplace-a slated sort of parlor is added, and'tis now an alehouse. We found the keeper of it tipsy; he pointed to the corner on one side of the fire, and with a most mal-a-propos laugh, observed,'there is the very spot where Robert 3Burns lwas born. The genius and the fate of the man were already heavy on myheart; but the drunken laugh of the landlord gave me such a view of the rock on which lie foundered, I could not stand it, blut burst into tears. "On Thursday we dine with Lord Eglington, and thence I hope to pursue our little tour to Lochlomond, Glasgow, Edinburgh, &c. These places acre, at this time of the year, much deserted: however, we shan't feel it quite a solitude; and, at all events, public buildings, &c., do not go to watering-places, so that still something .3'90 LIFE OF' CURIAI~N. will be visible. -In this region the winter is always mild, but the rain is almost perpetual, and still worse -as you advance to the north. An-Englishman said to an Ilighlander,'Bless me, Sir, does'it rain for ever.' The other answered-' Oh! nay, Sir, it snaws Iwhiles.' "See what: a chronicle I have writtenl, &c., &c. "P J. P. C." The preceding is not: the only record that Mri. Curran has left of his'Radmiration of Scotland.:this defence of Mr. Hamilton Rowan colntains a short but glowhinhg-eulogiuim upon the g'enius of that: country, for whose splendid services in the cause of the human mind no pr aise can be too great. After speaking-or the excessive terror of French.principles, by which:juries were governed in their verdicts he -proceeded: —" There is.a sortof:aspiring and adventurous credulity, which disdains assenting to:obvious truths, and delights in catching,at the improbability of circumnstances, as its best,rould of faith. To what othei cause can you ascribe that ill the wnise, the:reflecting, and the'philosophic nation of Great Britain, a printer has been found:gravely guilty of a libel, for publishing those resolutions to'which the prime'minister of that king' donm had actually subscribed his name? To what other cause can you ascribe what, in my mind, is still more astonishing; —in such a country as Sc(otland —a nation cast in the happy mnedium t;etween the spiritless acquilescence of submissive poverty and the sturdy oredulity of pampered wealth —cool and ardent-adventilrous and perseverinl wilgi ng her eagle- flight against the blaze -of everly science, -with an eye that never win'ks dnd a wing that -never tirescrowned as she is with the spoils of every art, and decked with the wreath of every muse,.fiomn "the deep and scrutinizing'researches of her Hume to -the sweet and simple, but not less sublime and pathetic, morality of -her Burns-how fi'om the bosom of a countiy like that, genius, and character, and talents, should be banished to a listant bar barous soil, condemned to pine under the horrid com LETTE'R FROM CHIELTENAM. 391 munion of vulgar vice and base-born profligacy, for twice the period that ordinary calculation gives to the continuance of human life?" * TO PETER LESLIE, ESQ., DUBLIN. "CHnatTNHaAM, Sept. 11, 1811. "DEAR PETER, "Don't open this till the little circle of our Hiirish friends are. together. You will be all glad to hear that an old friend is yet in the harbour of this stormy world, and has not forgotten you: in truth, it is only that sentiment that troubles you with this worthless despatch; but small as its value may be, it is worth at least what it costs you. I don't think these waters are doing me any good-I think they never did; they bury my poor spirits in the earth. I consulted yesterday evening (indeed chiefly to put so many moments to a technical death) our countryman B., a very obstinate fellow: though I paid him for his affability, and his'indeed, I think so too, Mr. Shandy,' I could not work him into an admission that I had any malady whatsoever, nor even any to hope for by continuing the intrigue with Mrs. Forty:t so I have a notion of striking my tent, and taking a position behind the Trent, at Donington.j During my stay here I have fallen into some pleasant female society; but such society can be enjoyed only by those who are something at a tea-table or a ball. Tea always makes me sleepless; and as to dancing, I tried three or four steps that were quite the cream of the thing in France at one time, and which cost me something. I though it might be the gaiters that gave them a piperly air; but even after pntting on my blackl silk stockings, and perusing them again before the glass, which I put on the ground for the purpose of an exact review, I found the the edition was too stale for republication. "6 The cover of this contains a list of all the politicians now in * Mr. Curran alludes to the sentence of Mr. Muir, Palmer, &c., who had been trans. ported for sedition -C. t The person who dispensed the waters at Cheltenham.-C.: The seat of Lord Mioira.-C. 392 LIFE OF CURRAN. Cheltenham, and therefore you must see that I am out of work as well for my head as my heels. Even the newspapers seem so parched by the heat of the season, which is extreme, as to have lost all vegetation. In short, I have made no progress in anythinog except in marketing, and I fancy I can cast a glance upon a shoulder of Welsh mutton with all the careless indecision of an unresolved purchaser, and yet with the eye of a master; so I have contrived to have two or three at five o'clock, except when I dine abroad, which I don't much like to do. "If you remember our last political speculations, you know all that is to be known; and that all being just nothing, you cannot well forget it. The smoke is thickest at the corners farthest from the chimney, and therefore near the fire we see a little more distinctly;* but as things appear to me, I see not a single ticket in the wheel that may not be drawn a blank, poor Paddy's not excepted. To go back to the fire-each party has the bellows hard at work, but I strongly suspect that each of them does more to blind their rivals, and themselves, too, by blowing the ashes about, than they do in coaxing or cherishing the blaze for the comfort or benefit of their own shins. Therefore, my dear Peter, though we have not the gift of prophecy, we have at least the privilege of praying. There is no act of parliament that takes away the right of preferring a petition to heaven; and therefore, while it yet is lawful, I pray that all may end well, and that we may have an happy escape fiom knaves and fools. In that hope there is nothing either popish or seditious. To-morrow I go to Gloucester, to the music-meeting, and then I think Mrs. Forty and I shall take the embrace of an eternal adieu. Do not forget me to all our dear friends about you, and assure them that; however kindly they may remember me, I am not, as far as grateful recollection * This familiar image, almost similarly applied, was the subject of some perplexity to Dr. Johnson.-" Roscomrnon, foreseeing that some violent concussion of the State was at hand. proposed to retire to Romne, alleging, that it was best to sit natr the chimney rehen the chamber smoked, a sentence of which the application seems not very clear."LiA of Rotcomnmon.-C. CORRESPONDENCE. 393 can go, in their debt. God grant we may all meet again in comfort here, or in glory somewhere else. "Yours, dear Peter, very truly yours, "JOHN P. CURRAN." TO RICHARD HETHERINGTON, ESQ.,* DUBLIN. "LONDON, 1811. "DEAR DICK, "I merely write to say that I am alive. Never any thing so dull as this place; I shall soon steer towards you. You must know I have been requested by a great sculptor to sit for him, and we are now employed in making a most beautiful head in mud, which is to be the model for a piece of immortal Parian marble. Is that a small style of going, Dick? I-Having now disposed of what was most important, we come to smaller matters-politics and war. iWellington has been obliged to give up Rodrigo, and retire westward; I suppose to eat his Christmas pies at his old quarters in Torres Vedras, to which every hundred pound that is sent to him costs only one hundred and forty pounds here. As to politics, they seem quite relinquished by every one: nobody expects any material change of men or measures; nor, in truth, do I see any thing in the present state of things that can't be done as well by one set as another. I have little doubt that Perceval is as warlike a hero as Grenville, and just as capable of simplifying our governmtnent to the hangman and the taxgatherer. I am just interrupted; so, God bless you. " J. P. CvURRAN." TO THE SAME. "HOLLAND HOUs8E, 1811. "DEAR DICK. "The allurement of a fiank gives you this. IHere I am, much better I think-all lonely. Burton here for a week-al* This gentleman held the situation of deputy keeper of the Rolls under Mr. Curran; all of whose letters in his possession he kindly communicated for insertion in this work.-C. 391: LIFE OF CUTRRAN. most everly body else aray. I am scarcely sorry for having come, one csts out of print; how'ever, I have scarcely to cominaini, I find rnyself quite a proof copyi. Dear Dick, a man loves to be cotkered. a little; and certainly I am not stinted here. I suspect it is all affectation when I talk cheaply of the great and the grand; for instance, I went to pay nmy devoii' to Lady D, who was very kind; also to Lady A —, who was vastly gracious; also Godwin, as also Lord Holland. To-morrow I shall think of Denis O'B3ryen and the Duke of Sussekx;'twill be well if I don't forget you and the hill, while I remember' J. P. C." " Some more lies from the continent: —another victory-three legs of Bonaparte shot away, the fourth foot very precaiious. I really suspect that you have been here iieog., and bit every body; for they will believe nothing, even though au-thenticated by the most respectable letters from Gottingen. Farewell. "J. CU CunRN." TO THE SAME. "A LoNDoN, Oetober 12, 1811. " DEAR DICK, "I look forward to being very domestic for the winter. I feel my habits and feelings much upon the change: it puts me in mind of a couple of bad verses of my own growth, And the long train of joys that charm'd before, Stripped of their borrow'd plumage, charm no more. I am weak enough to indulge in a conceited contrition for having done nothing, and th6 peni'tentiai pirpose ofdoihig something before I die. Go(ld help us f hi6w poor the vanity tthat self accuses us of wasithig fands theat. never existe4d, and draws: for compensation upon the tiime tliat we are not destined to see! or upon efforts that we ENGLISH POLITICS. 3 3a have not strength to make! You will think it odd that here in London I should be very studious; but so it has been. I have been always prone to metaphysical and theological subjects, though I well know the uncertainty and fruitlessness of such researches; however, I think to call aliother cause, and adjourn that, till I go thither where all must be plain and clear-where the evidence must be solid, and the judgment infallible. "I have been only at one play, and that in company with the author, Moore.* I sleep, three or,.four nights in the week in the country; so that in Ireland I look to be very good-like an old bachelor who proposes to marry, and take the benefit of an insolvent act. " There is still no news here-people seem almost sick of conjecturing. As to my part, if I have any opinion, it is that a change would be only partial. The public undoubtedly have no enthusiasm for the outs, and Perceval unquestionably has risen much. In the City they think him a man of probity and of business, which they think muclh better than high and lofty tumbling. As to our miserable questions, they are not half so interesting as the broils in the Caraecas. What a test of the Union! And what a proof of the apathy of this blind and insolent country! They affect to think it glorious to struggle to the last shilling of their money, and the last drop of our blood, rather than submit their property and persons to the capricious will of France; and yet that is precisely the power they are exercising over us-the modest authority of sending over to us laws, like boots and shoes ready made for exportation, without once condescending to take our measure, or ask whether or where thev pinch us. " But enough, I think, of religion and politics. "J. P. C." * Thonas Moore. The play was operatic, and was damned. Its name was "M. P. or the Blue Stockings." —M. 396 LIFE OF CURRAN. CHAPTER XVI. Mr. Cru-ran is invited to stand for the borough of Newry-Speech to the electors-Letter to Sir J. Swinburne-Letter on Irish affairs to H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex. FROM the period of Mr. Curran's elevation to the bench, his friends had been very desirous to see him a member of the British parliament. Independent of the service which they expected that his zeal and talents might render to Ireland, there mingled with their feelings on this subject a sentiment of national pride. His parliamentary abilities they considered as having been greatly underrated; notwithstanding the extensive circulation of his reported speeches, the admiration they had met in England was cold in comparison to the enthusiastic applause which their delivery had excited at home. They were therefore anxious that he should have an opportunity, before age or death should render it impossible, of justifying their preference, and confirming his own reputation by even a single display, before such an audience as the British seniate, of those powers which his countrymen had so long been extolling as unrivalled. These reasons-particularly the sense of duty, were frequently urged upon him, but with little effect. The only question, upon which it seemed to him that he could be useful, was that of Catholic Emancipation; and even here he could not venture to be sanguine. When he recollected that his illustriouis friend, Mr. Grattan, who had made that question almost the business of a long life, was still (though supported by so Iluch of the most exalted rank and talent in the British empire) vainly exerting his splendid abilities to drive or shame the bigot from his post, Mr. Curran feared that the accession of any strergth that he possessed NEWRY ELECTION. 397 would prove of little value to the cause. The motives of personal vanity or ambition had still less influence. It is not surprising that he, who in the season of ardour alld hope had been so negligent of famle, should continue equally inldifferent, now that these incentives to action were passing or had passed away. Such were his feelings (too full perhaps of despondency and indolence) when, upon the general election in 1812, the independent interest of the town of Newry proposed to elect him their member. A deputation from that bolourgh having waited upon him for the purpose, he accepted the invitation,* and repaired to Newry;t but after a contest of six days, perceiving that the * The feelings with which Mr. Curran accepted the invitation appear in his answer. " TO THE WORTHY AND INDEPENDENT ELECTORS OF THE BOROUGHI OF NEWRY. " GENTLEMEN-I have just received an address, signed by a number of highly respectable members of your ancient borough, inviting me to offer myself a candidate to represent your town in parliament. To be thought worthy of such a trust, at so awful a crisis as the present, and to receive such an invitation, unsolicited and unexpected, is an honour that I feel deeply and gratefully. "G ent!emen, I need not trouble you with many words. You know my principles, you know my conduct heretofore-I am not a stranger coming forward to menace, or to buy you, in order that I may sell you; nor do I rest my pretension on any contrition for the past, nor any premediated promise that I will at some future period begin to act honestly by you. From the earliest period of my life to see this ill-fated country retrieved from her sad condition of suffering and of shame has been the first and warmest wish of my heart, and warm it shall continue, till I myself lam cold for ever. " I know you will not impute it to a want of the most profound respect for you, when I say that I will not personally solicit the vote of any individual. I cannot run the risk of soliciting a suitor in the character of aio elector-it would not benefit my judicial situation, and I think it would diminish that credit, which suffrage above all suspicion of bias, ought to give to your representative. It will therefore be sufficient that I attend you in such time before the election as will enable me to know your farther pleasure. "I have the honour to be, Gentlemen, with a full sense of your confidence and favour, "Your obedient servant, "JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. "Stephen's Green, October 8, 1812." t Mr. Curran's reception was most enthusiastic. He was met two miles outside Newry, and about 31000 persons joined in drawing him into the borough in his carriage, from which the horses had been taken. He made a brilliant speech (of which no report has been preserved), which occupied eighty minutes in the delivery, and was greatly aipllauded. His rival, Who avowed Anti-Catholic opinions, was groaned. But slome of the (Catholic 398 LIFE OF CURRAN. strength of the other candidate (General Needham) left him no prospect oft sluccess, he d(eclined fany falrther strugole. Upon this occasLitic, it'T. Currain deliverel a speec.h of considerable lengtl. It W;Is hiis last oieat plutbic efflort, and was characterized by the same enelgy and, tn d tlhe saime slp;.irit of patriotic enthusiasm, which reignl in all his nolrnier 1)roductions. After stating to the el3ctors of NeWrI Y tie eirc.unlistances under which he had been inllduced to alptealr aiong thleni, and the condition of the borough, which had baffled the exertions of his fiiends; Mr. Curran proceeded to il nti'ress upon his Ihearers that the long train of sulferings whicti Ireland hal' d enldured fr centuries iad Originatedl in the dissension of her peop)le, and that whatever of them remained could onlv be removed by mutual toleration. "Under this sad coalition of confed.leting dlissensions, nursed and fonmentedt by the polieyv of England, tllis devoted country has cointinued to languish with siilall HtictuatioLns of n{atiolal destiny, from the invasion of the second l.enlry to the p)lesent time. And here let rme be just while I am indignant; let me candidly own that to the noble examples oi British virtue, to tile splendid exertions of British couragie, to theiri splendid sacorifices, am I probably indebted for my feelings as aii Irishmen and my devotion to iny country. They thought it ma:dness to trust themselves to tlie influence of any foreign countiry; they thogt tle circulation oh the political blood could be carried on only by the action of the heart within the bodV, anddl