rr (3T ROBERT EMMET. I.— THE CAUSE OF HIS REBELLION." II.— THE CAUSE OF ITS FAILURE. IIL— HIS ELOQUENCE, CONVERSATION, &c. lY.— HIS CHARACTER. ,0^0. C0,,«0. «B>=,f ' 'c„ST»m-Ul^l^»"'- "He left a name, To point a moral or adorn a tale. t^i»*mi»j( oscL^fe imRAR^ |. f^f^ESB^MTH^JcL MASS. y LOND ON: LONGMANS, GREEN, and CO., PATERNOSTER ROW. DUBLIN: MoGLASHAN and GILL, UPPER SAOKVILLE STREET. LIVERPOOL : R. H. ERASER, CABLE STREET. ' • ' 'J COU.mf; LIBRAS"' /^ ^^l-u^ <^/^t.>^ ^. / /^ ^nt'^-^ Q^i^/^ct''^'t-'4^.^Y they will gradually accustom the slave to walk without his chains, and suit the measures of the government to the disposition of the people. " It is," he proceeded, " a principle in society that it must resolve itself into its original elements, which consist in individual benefit and general happiness. This is the end of all society ; and to this end it perpetually tends, under whatever form of government men may live. There is no form from which they cannot derive a portion of felicity, as bees extract their liquid sweet from the flowers of the most noxious plants. But the moment existing institutions prove inimical to general good, from that moment their downfall may be dated ; for they then become a tyranny : and, as tyrsumj is not the oflTspring of Nature, it quickly meets the fate of all abortive things : — it is either overwhelmed in the general indigna- tion, or it drops all its ferocity, and sinks into ^8 KOBEUT EMMET. insignificancey ; as Sylla, from being the most atrocious of patricides, became the humblest of ^ Eomans. Tyranny can have no permanent exis- tence, as it is always opposed to the designs of Providence and the interests of society." " With some limitation," said Emmet, " I am inclined to subscribe to your opinion, that the politic body, like the corporal frame, possesses within itself a radical cure for many ex-ternal diseases, as well as most internal ones ; and that the application of supposed remedies, in many instances, serves only to obstruct or impede the progress of convalescence ; or, at best, does only for Nature what Nature would have done for herself But this is one of those rules which admit of exceptions, whether applied to society or individuals ; for there are certain cases in which Nature requires assistance; and, though the instances are few, the necessity of application is not the less obvious. The mortified limb re- quires amputation, and the career of oppression should be arrested. Nature here solicits aid; and, if not obtained in time, death and tyranny triumph." " And the triumph," returned the traveller, " is accelerated if the physician mistake the case." "But," rejoined Emmet, ''there are symptoms and appearances which indicate the disease be- ROBERT EMMET. 69 yond the possibility of doubt ; and, if ever it was the duty of raen to oppose injustice and oppres- sion, that duty devolves now on the people of Ireland. Every circumstance imperiously calls upon them to assert and enforce their rights ; and, as they cannot be withheld, it only requires an effort to snatch them from the feeble grasp of tyranny." • " Stni," interrupted my uncle, " suppose we should admit the Irish Government to be a tyranny, we must not forget that it may be irritated to revenge any attempt at self-emanci- pation, should that attempt fail of success. We know such efforts have already proved abortive ; and, if we cannot profit by experience, we must submit to the consequence of error. Your en- thusiasm does honour to your heart ; and, if there be a fault which admits of palliation, it is that amiable and generous one which springs from excessive partiality to freedom — that idol of mankind so often sought for, and so seldom found. But, like the adventurers in search of the land of eternal life, we may, in pursuit of the goddess, discover new regions to compensate for our toil, and reward us for our journey ; — we may light upon rational freedom while we are seeking liberty. What no nation has yet realised it is not a degradation for us to want ; and, since the British 70 ROBERT EMMET. constitution is acknowledged to be tlie most perfect system of government in Europe, let us be content to seek admission into that without plunging into the sea of anarchy, to dive after Utopian pearls." "Even admitting," said Emmet, "that the English constitution be the best possible form, it does not follow that it is therefore more available to Irishmen. On the contrary, the very attributes for which it is lauded are those that must for ever exclude us from a participation in its blessings. The Irish Catholic, like the foolish peasant in Horace, may wait for ages on the verge of the constitution without seeing the flood of intolerance pass, for the fountain which supplies it is inex- haustible. What," he continued, " is the boasted English Government? Is it not a compound of Church and State? And if the preservation of the forms of the constitution, and of its principle, be the same, we must admit that whatever would sepa- rate these must occasion destruction to the whole. This is the opinion of aU the political writers, from Hooker to Paley ; and what has been so often enforced, and so frequently acted upon, is not likely to be disregarded when Catholics ask for emancipation. But, let me add, men, however obtuse their intellect, know pretty weU when they possess an advantage ; and the more deficient they ROBERT EMMET. 71 are in understanding, the more obstinate are they in denouncing all innovations that tend to impair or undermine their own privileges. The Church, as established by law, is nearly omnipotent in the Legislature ; and it is not in the nature of things to expect that it will admit Catholics to a partici- pation of power, when they know one claim only leads to another, and that the man who has once beheld Liberty will not desist until he possesses her. Emancipation cannot satisfy the Catholics ; for, though it may put them in possession of most of their rights, it will not procure them justice, while the Protestant Church, like a mighty in- cubus, tortures the people, paralyses their energy, and blasts all hope of improvement. The abolition or commutation of tithes would follow emancipation as surely as the dawn of day is succeeded by the rising sun ; and so well is the Church aware of this, that emancipation never will be granted. The self-interest of the Church is alone sufi&cient to exclude Catholics from power, even overlooking its intolerance, prejudice, and bigotry." '* The Church," said my uncle, "is no doubt very strong, but it is not omnipotent. Protestant laymen, as in 1798, to a great extent respect the Church, but they also respect their own self- interest. This self-interest renders them directly adverse to the ecclesiastical dominion." 72 ROBERT EMMET. " The Protestant laity," observed Emmet, " must, while men's interests influence their actions, oppose emancipation. There is scarcely a Protestant family in Ireland that does not benefit, directly or indirectly, by the system that oppresses the country. They hold, exclusively, places of trust and emolument. The Church is open to the son, the Corporation to the father, and the Castle to all. Protestantism in Ireland, like the fat pigeon in Paley, is fed by the toils, privations, and hard- ships of millions. Corruption is the bud it springs from^ and whatever destroys that corruption de^ stroys Protestantism in Ireland." " Rather say," interrupted my uncle, " that it would destroy its luxuriance, but improve its fruit ; that it would make it the religion of the heart, and not of the passions ; and that it would direct men in the way to Heaven, and not to the Court, This is what it wants ; this, however needful, is not to be effected in a moment, lest, in eradicating the weeds, we destroy the hopes of harvest. The progress of right thinking and proper feeling is rapid in Ireland. I remember when the opening of Parliament closed the doors of the Catholic chapels, and when a Papist could not vote for a member of the Legislature that was to tax him. But now how different the case is ; and who shall be presumptuous enough to say. ROBERT EMMET. 73 'thus far liberality shall go, and no farther? ' Pro- testant justice has done much in redressing Catholic wrongs," " Pardon me, sir/' said Emmet, " but I cannot admit your position. That Catholic privi- leges have been increased I don't mean to dispute ; but I am borne out by facts when I allege that they have been wrung from Protestant fears, and not conceded by legislative justice ; that they were bestowed upon Catholics, not for their benefit, but to increase the power and wealth of Protestants, as the Roman bondsmen were patronised by their masters. What," he asked, "have Catholics gained these fifty years? The privilege to vote at elections ; — but, recollect, they must vote for • a Protestant candidate. The privilege to serve in the army, but only in the rank of subalterns, under Protes- tant officers. The privilege to hold and purchase lands, because Protestants wanted to let and sell them. When you add to these the privilege of going to mass, because Protestants dare not pre- vent them, you have enumerated the mighty blessings conferred upon Catholics." " But have they not," asked my uncle, " been made eligible for certain situations of trust ? " "Yes," rejoined Emmet, " the Legislature gave them the key of certain offices, but the Protestants remained inside to bolt the door. It was an act 74 ROBERT EMMET. of solemn mockery ; for, when men are excluded from privileges by practice, it is a poor compliment to make them eligible by law. But the little con- cessions from time to time made to Catholics served their purpose; they were the rattles intended to please the infancy of national discon- tent, but they could not please long ; for, as the people grew out of leading-strings, they required something more substantial than the baubles which pleased their childhood." " A wise nation," said the traveller, '' will expect nothing from the justice or generosity of others, but will hope everything from their selfishness and pride. Ireland, it is true, has not received anything because it was a right, but because it was necessary ; nor need the Catholics expect any further privilege while it can be safely withheld by the Government, without incurring national reproach or risking national tranquillity. Con- cession first sprang from one or both of these causes, and, like water, must run on while it continues to operate, till it comes to its own level — that is, until there is nothing more to concede. The progress of knowledge and events is neither to be resisted nor evaded, and must shortly place the Catholic on a perfect equality with his Protestant fellow-subject. Both will then find their interests to be the same, and every benefit to be mutual." ROBERT EMMET. 75 " A consummation devoutly to be wished/' re- joined Emmet : "but, like the base of the rainbow, however near it appears, it is, I fear, never to be arrived at. Legislators are but indifferent baro- meters for ascertaining the strength of public opinion — and ours least of all ; for an act, before it becomes effective, has to run the gauntlet through every form of government, from democracy to despotism. The House of Commons might pass it, but it would be cushioned either by the aristo- cracy or the monarch; and on the subject of Catholic emancipation his Majesty's opinion is pretty generally known. Thus the hope of Catholic freedom has not only to encounter the intolerance and interest of one part of the Legislature, but the ignorance and prejudice of another. After this, whoever would preach patience would be well qualihed for undertaking the cleansing of another Augean stable." " Kings," said my uncle, " are mortal, and live only the natural age of other men. His Majesty, it is said, is opposed to unqualified emancipation, but it is hoped his successor will be of different principles ; and we know the will of the King is omnipotent. His prerogative, like the caduceus of Mercury, can lay the bench of bishops asleep, or infuse into their souls all the attributes of Christian charity. It can hush the still small 76 ROBERT EMMET. voice of expectancy, and command the vote of every man in office. We may say of it, as a foreigner, enamoured of the British constitution, said of Parliaments — ' It can do anything, but make a man a woman, and a woman a man/ What then may we not expect when George the Fourth shall fill the throne in all the omnipotence of regal power ? He has only to say the word, and it will be done." "Hope may flatter," returned Emmet, "till ruin approach ; but it is the province of the patriot to correct the folly of expectation where there can be no rational probability of seeing it realized. We need not travel far for precedents of erroneous confidence placed in the promises of ministers and the goodness of our own cause. The people trusted once in the saving power of Government, quitted the ark of the constitution on the invitation of an impostor, and sank in the ocean of slavery ; the waves of corruption swal- lowed up the rights and liberties of Irishmen ; while the Union, buoyant on the indignant waters, floated from the shore, a testimony of our credulity and our degradation ! We gather experience from the past, but of the future we can know nothing ; and it is in vain to conjecture where all is neces- sarily uncertain. The present king may live these thirty years ; and his successor, when he comes to ROBERT EMMET. 77 the throne, may be deficient in energy ; for we needed not Johnson to tell us that age seldom ful- fils the promises of youth. Two generations may thus pass away, and our grandchildren still live under an intolerant king, and have to do what we should have done for them — emaoicipate Ireland.'' " Where much is due," said the traveller, after a short pause, " much is to be expected ; but a creditor is not to refuse any sum, however trifling, when it goes to diminish the debt. A small stream, when it flows constantly, will soon fill a large reservoir ; and though the concessions to Ireland are, like angels' visits — far between, still they are concessions, and must in time satisfy all our just demands. This will happen in the natural course of events, and may be accelerated by some lucky circumstances; for a pious man will rather predict good than prognosticate evil as the reward of virtuous patience." " But patience," returned Emmet, " ceases to be virtuous when it degenerates into criminal apathy; and he that suflers deserves neither pity nor praise, when by laudable exertion he might free himself from pain. I can readily fancy a Hercules at the distafl" when surrounded by winning beauty ; but Hercules with his club, patiently enduring the taunts and insults of tyrannical enemies, is so 78 ROBERT EMMET. monstrously absurd, that the imagination rejects it at once. Let not England imagine that we, her equals in intelligence and physical resources, will tamely submit to wrongs for fear of her enmity — that we will basely hug the chain she has thrown around us. No — Heaven forbid ! Liberty is at least worth an effort, for life without freedom is a burden too heavy for enlightened man." ROBERT EMMET. 79 CHAPTER IX. AN EVENING'S WALK, After this burst of enthusiasm Emmet stood up to leave, telling my uncle that he was bound to return to Dublin that evening. The whisky, the tumblers, and the hot water continued on the table; and although my taste forbade my concealing my repugnance to what was called potheen. I felt happy that all my friends indulged in a practice which was at once social and national. The con- versation did not relax, but had reference not so much to political as to family matters, and these were to me revelations which I enjoyed very much. The Roaches, I was assured, had been contemporary with the O'Tooles, who, from the vicinity of the Seven Churches, had in former times levied black mail even upon Dublin. The 80 ROBEKT EMMET. decadence of family honours was as if from habit much regretted ; but there was an obvious satis- faction with things just as they were in the Castle. The daylight remained as if reluctantly outside the windows, and when darkness crept around the furniture Mr. Lambert proposed to go home. Malachy and I undertook to accompany him a part of the way, and after the usual doch-an-dorris we crossed, as Malachy ironically said, " the ancient ramparts of the Castle. " The moon — a very full one — had just modestly made its appearance from behind the neighbouring hill ; and as we left the lawn Malachy turned round and observed, " How grand ancient ruins appear when visited by loving moonlight?" Having some recollection of school-day poetry, I remarked that the moonbeams on the Castle looked like young beauty caressing old age. " Very fine," said Mr. L ambert, " but buxom youth would be more acceptable than unhealthy appearances." '* Buxom beauty," said Malachy, "would prefer the fascinating and the youthful, like my dear cousin here. Euins are at once deemed stones of the past, and reminders that social and political changes are not always improvements." " Tut, tut," said Mr. Lambert, " put poetry aside ROBERT EMMET. 81 for a moment, Malachy, and view by the moon- light Castle Rath as a memorial of national degradation." '•'National degradation," interrupted Malachy, " how can that be 1 It indicates that there were once powerful families, and that the great families protected the weaker people." " I do not deny the existence of aristocratic families in all ages," observed Mr. Lambert, " but these castles are happily the mementos of them, and they show fortunately the bygone barbarism." " Barbarism?" exclaimed Malachy. " Decidedly," said Mr. Lambert. " There must have been barbarism where society needed the protection of castles, and castles were evidences- of feudalism proclaiming the existence of two sets- of peoples — tyrants and the enslaved." " But," said Malachy, " we had no slavery in Ireland." " Pardon me," observed Mr. Lambert, " we have had far too much of it. You have forgotten your historical reading. .When the English invaded our country our pious clergy proclaimed that God had sent the infliction in order to punish us for having been constantly purchasers and importers- of English slaves. Besides," continued Mr. Lam- bert, " serfdom is just the same as slavery, and peasants who were huddling for protection around 82 ROBERT EMMET. castles were serfs in the proper acceptation of the term." "Well," said Malachy, with a sigh, "we were .always a very unfortunate people. Ireland has suffered more than any other nation in the world." " Quite wrong," interrupted Mr. Lambert, " quite wrong, sir. Ireland did suffer, but not so much as other nations of Europe." " How so?" I inquired. - ^ " By being very remote," said Mr. Lambert, "from oppression, strife, murders, and cruelties. For our position invited piety to our shores, and piety flourished in the land because there was repose in it. Piety associated itself, as it always does, with humanity and learning ; and the repu- tation of our schools had been recognised by all the Christian world, for students flocked here from every quarter for the instruction which was never denied them. While learning was progressing in this island, Paganism was predominant everywhere else, as it is still in the East. Christianity, not- withstanding the labours of the Church, took centuries to penetrate into the regions of Pagan- ism — Scandinavia being unblessed by the shadow of the cross until an Irish monk from the Faroe Islands carried the Gospel into that country." " It did not fructify much there," said Malachy, " Unhappily not," said Lambert, " for Denmark ROBERT EMMET. 83 itself was the wilderness of Paganism, ai^ound which religion circulated but did not enter, for the Christian neighbours, such as they were, took •delight in slaughtering each other/' " True," said Malachy, " the Danes had pre- viously fallen foul of Ireland." "So they had," 'observed Mr, Lambert, ''but much less cruelly than they did upon England, upon Scotland, upon Erance, and upon Germany." " The reason was, I am told," said I, endeavour- ing to get in a word in the controversy," that the Danes spoke the language of Germany, the lan- guage of Holland, the language of the North of Erance, and much of the language of the South ; but that they were strangers altogether to the language spoken by the Irish people. The Irish language literally stopped their way, but not their cruelty. And Irish bravery, I have read in Danish song, was so conspicuous that the returned North- man boasted amongst his fellows at home that he had fought in Ireland." " Much better," said Mr. Lambert, " if he had never fought here." " The invasion," said Malachy, " threw our eountry back." " A little " said Mr. Lambert, " but not much. Everything that was bad in Ireland, from the time of the Danes to the English invasion^ was 84 ROBERT EMMET. worse in England, France, Germany, and all' other Christian countries ; — a great deal worse.. Monarchs and leaders were always fighting with and killiag each other. In Ireland there was no- invasion, properly speaking, beyond the exploits of a day or two, and the glorious heroism of Brian Boroihme." '* But then," said Malachy, "came the greatest calamity of all, the English invasion." "Well, that was bad enough," replied Mr. Lambert ; " but it was not worse than the Norman invasion of England a few years before. It was not worse than the invasion of Erance by Eollo a few years previous to that. It was fortunately less hurtful. The English invaders were only a handful of people, and they ought to have been expelled, — but they were not. The authority of Henry was acknowledged because our Church told us to acknowledge it, and the result was not so very bad until the time of the Eeformation." " Yes, yes ! " said Malachy, " that was the calamity." " A terrible calamity," continued Mr. Lambert. " Yet it was not so terrible as it was in England, Scotland, Erance, Spain, and Germany. Much less. This is easily observed in results. Catholicism was persecuted and trodden out of England ; it was persecuted and trodden out of Scotland ^ ROBERT EMMET. 85 persecuted and trodden out in Wales ; persecuted and trodden out in North Germany and Scan- dinavia. In Ireland Catholicism held its own, .and the Catholics are again the people of Ireland." " Poor CathoKcs !" sighed Malachy, " They are not guilty of the cruelties which characterised the Protestants." " Well, weU," said Mr. Lambert, " if it gratifies you, you are welcome to it ; but in point of fact, my friend, the Catholics in other places acted towards the Protestants in the same way as the Protestants acted towards the Catholics in England and other places. The Catholics in Prance per- secuted the Huguenots ; the Catholics in Australia, and all over the Danube, almost exterminated the Protestants ; and the Catholics in Italy did actually exterminate them. There was misery everywhere, and no doubt too much of it in Ireland." " Alas ! " said Malachy, " misery will continue unless the sword is once more drawn and national liberty fought for and won." "E"onsense, my good friend," interrupted Mr. Lambert ; " we are all right enough now. We are part and parcel of the great English people." " Horrible ! " exclaimed Malachy, " ISTot so," replied Mr. Lambert ; " the many are always stronger than the few in every place ; 86 ROBERT EMMET. and it is our business, now that the Act of Union is passed, to turn our advantage to account, to make rich England the mine of our industry, and to work it for our national benefit, for it is quite dear that, owing to our religious differences, the extinguishment of our local Parliament was neces- sary t ogive the Roman Catholics a chance of fair play." " A small chance, indeed," said Malachy, " for the Orangemen are on the public walk, but they won't be long there." " Until," said Mr. Lambert, ". they are absorbed in tho majority of the population. And they never would be absorbed had not the English Parliament absorbed the Irish Parliament and given you something like equality." " like equality ? " " Exactly so ; it will come to that by fair means, — by the means within your power, the increase of trade, husbandry, and other resources, and by an increase of population, which is sure to follow better times." By this time we had progressed far upon Lambert's way home, but he turned round and said, "Now, I will see you part of your way home in return for your civility." We then advanced, as Paddy would say, backwards. The conversation continued in the same strain, and,. ROBERT EMMET. 87 when we took leave of our friend, Malachy seemed much depressed. He spoke not until we approached the Castle, and just as we came, under the shadow of its walls he observed, " It is gloomy here ; but it may be more gloomy by-and-by," — and he sighed as if sorrowing. — "But," he exclaimed, " there is a future. It may be full of brilliancy,— 7 it may be full of misery." " Let us think of the brilliancy," I exclaimed, <' and betake ourselves to bed." " With all my heart," he said quietly, and we went to our chambers. A great deal of thought, pleasant and otherwise, rushed into my mind, and I sat down upon the chair to give it shape. All I had heard that (evening was in a great measure new to me. My mother had told me all about the Roaches ; but, although her statements were no doubt correct, they had not satisfied the anxiety of a young man involuntarily desiring, not hereditary grandeur, but something to gratify hereditary pride. What I had heard that night went far beyond my mother's lessons. I had heard of Irish dis- content, of Irish rhetoric, of Irish eloquence, of Irish extravaga^nce, and of Irish enthusiasm ; but nothing realistic had ever presented itself to my mind until that day. I heard my uncle with veneration, and I will add with admiration, for 88 KOBERT EMMET. he spoke like a man of sense — a man who had weighed the state of things around him without attempting to disturb them, and who was ever ready to abide the sequence of time. Mr. Lambert's historical knowledge and great energy of thought pleased me perhaps much more, for his knowledge of history was new to me, and to a young man novelty is pleasing. Things formerly were very bad in Ireland, but they were bad all over the world. It was a sad state of things, and the prospect of present improvement did not encourage any sanguine expectation. I heard enough to apprise me that religious differences kept men in a state of fear and hatred ; and it even crossed my mind once or twice that there was danger brewing somewhere. I dismissed the thought, however, as quickly as it arose ; but then Malachy seemed to speak from a preposses- sion that had something repulsive in it. Who was Emmet 1 I imperfectly knew. I admired . him for his power of conversation, for his won- derful jBLuency of speech, and above all for his intelligent earnestness, full of danger to himself, circumstances rendering it fatal. Mr. Lambert listened to him, not approvingly as I thought, but with a smile in which there was something like pity playing about the mouth; but then Mr. Lambert himself had been a rebel. ROBERT EMMET. 89 Be had been engaged in treasonable practices ^Iso, and had only just returned from exile. He had crossed the seas, but, contrary to the Roman :adage, he did not bring home with him the mind which accompanied him abroad. He had learned much, evidently ; that he had thought much was quite clear. On sundry points he had arrived at convictions which he took no trouble to conceal; and I was certainly not displeased with him for his opposition to Malachy's views, although the story of national sufferings was by no means agreeable to me, who had been often told of them, but had been led to believe that they had all 'disappeared. Troublesome thoughts will not be allayed by indulging in pleasant thoughts, and nature pointed out to me that the only possible relief was to get some rest. The cawing of the rooks overhead awoke me out of a rather confused and unrefreshing sleep. The geese were particularly noisy; the ducks were making known their discontent rather than their comfort, and ever and anon the barking of the house dogs rendered discord too sonorous. As I began to think of all I had heard the preceding- night, I endeavoured to banish it from my thoughts by proceeding to dress. 90 EGBERT EMMET. CHAPTER X. AN EXCtJRSION". It was a beautifal morning. The bright sun brought the neighbouring mountains, as I thought, almost within touch, and on descending into the open air there was a sense of refreshment afford- ing relief from the previous night's thoughts. On returning to the Castle I found Malachy and Mr. Lambert waiting for me. Mr. Lambert brought good tidings when he proposed that Malachy, myself, his sister, and a young lady stopping with her, should show me the beauties of the Seven Churches. Breakfast was soon despatched, and we all proceeded in the family jaunting car to Highfield, where we found Miss Lambert and some friends waiting for us. The distance being short, our retura home to dinner was fixed upon. ROBERT EMMET. 91 We got upon the car and drove off. Malachy contrived to obtain a seat by Miss Lambert, and her young friend accepted such small courtesy as I was able to pay. Two young ladies and gen- tlemen came up, and Mr. Lambert took them in charge on the other car. After little more than an hour over good roads — for Ireland even then had good roads — we arrived at Glendalough — Glendalough I presume being the valley of the Grand Lake, for there is a lake at the Seven Churches, and on its borders there is a crowd of every kind of grandeur in which archaeologists delight. The cicerone of the place welcomed us on our approach, and we lost no time in following him to such points as he had a thousand times exhibited to former visitors. I must say that the scene filled me with pious awe. I had heard much about the round towers of Ireland, and here we had one or two of them. Our guide gave us their history somewhat doubtfully, for he said they were built by the Danes ; but the priest of the parish assured him that they were built by the early Christians. No matter who built them, • they were erected, as it were, for eternity. They have endured probably as long as the Pyramids, and there ^is as much known of them perhaps as is known of what may be called the '52 ROBERT EMMET. monuments of royalty on the Nile. Here they stood, without architectural beauty, but so con- structed as to end are all the assaults of time. 'Not far from these were what are called the -Stone-roofed Chapels, perhaps as ancient or more ancient than the round towers ; but, although they are palpable to the sight, their history has escaped recognition. The ruined churches were hardly less tangible objects of attention, and their number and their position bespoke that they appertained to a distant age of great Christian zeal. After w e were tired of walking and admiring, it was proposed that we should one after the other enter St. Cavan's bed. As a strancrer I was to have the right of way, but as I was a good Protestant I refused to pay my devotion to an Irish saint. Malachy then explained to the ladies that St. Cavan may have slept in the bed over the lake ; but if he did he was the only one who ever slept in it, for it is inaccessible, and could not be entered except by means hardly available at any time in that remote district. The skylark refuses to do homage to the sacred temple where the holy man slept, for we were assured by the guide that it never yet flew over the lake. Where there were several ladies and gentlemen there was necessarily a reasonable amount of :merry talk. The ladies, as by nature, of course I ROBERT EMMET. 95- talk best. They talk with a great deal more vivacity than male creatures, and they talk, too,. a great deal more to the purpose ; but Malachy and Mr. Lambert were too profound in their thoughts to descend to verbal vivacity, and my modesty prevented my being obtrusive. As we prepared to depart we had to walk through a good many weeds and wild flowers to the spot where our vehicles were waiting for us. On the- way one of the young ladies got away from Mr. Lambert and accepted my small conversation. She was very young, very pretty, and tolerably intelligent. She took pleasure in removing my ignorance in reference to some of the parties present, and she gravely informed me that Malachy and Miss Lambert were some day to be one. '' Indeed ! " was the only word I uttered. " It is true. They will make a very fine couple* She is, as you see, a sweet creature, and he is a gentleman of education and character." I assented to both observations, but in point of fact the news was not quite agreeable to me. I had indulged in a kind of vague notion that I was not entirely indifferent to Miss Lambert ; but I was young — I was a stranger. The sudden fancy which had got into my mind somehow or another lingered there, although its impropriety did not escape me. She was the affianced of '94 ROBERT EMMET. Malachy; lie was worthy of her, and I had no business to be jealous. Apparently I must have been embarrassed, for my fair companion expressed her pleasure that I was so delighted with the place as to be absorbed in its beauty. The hint awoke the little gallantry that was in me, and I postponed reflection for another time. My fair companion assisted my mind in a necessary change of thought by saying — " The ladies in London are very beautiful, are they not ? " "Very," I replied, "ladies are beautiful every- where. In Ireland, from my experience, they are exceedingly beautiful." " I believe," she replied very candidly, " we merit the compliment, and no doubt in the eyes of Englishmen we would appear still more beautiful if we kept our lips closed ; but as that is not to be expected," she continued with a smile, "the brogue will rush out through lips however beautiful." " The accent," I observed, '' adds to the beauty, and does not detract from it. It is national. It is very intelligible, and in this district it is very sweet and becoming." " It is," she said, '' the Dublin accent ; for inter- course with the city, as you may suppose, is very intimate ; but nevertheless " — and she looked EGBERT EMMET. 95 inquisitively into my face — "the English accent is more beautiful.'' " Do you think so ? " " Certainly." Smiling archly, she added, " You have a London accent, and if you stop long at lihe Castle I shall have some fears for your cousin Malachv." "Fears?" "Why, yes. Miss Lambert will hardly think ill of you when you become more intimate." " You flatter me rather than the lady." " Neither. But there is something after all in ihe prestige of the English people which recom- mends them greatly to the Irish ladies." " You almost persuade me," I said, '' to try the experiment at this moment." "Oh no," she said laughingly, "don't try it. You see that tall gentleman walking with that pale beauty before us. He is my affianced.'' " Were he not," said I, " a very perfect gentle- man, and you fully committed by a sacred tie, I might be tempted to ' try my luck,' as people call it. But perhaps you could tell me who that pale beauty holding on his arm is. I have seen her once before." '' Seen her and not know her ? She is the youngest daughter of John Philpot Curran." After this interesting conversation we proceeded 96 EGBERT EMMET. to join the company, who were preparing ta return. Mr. Lambert having taken the seat I formerly occupied, I took my place by my fair companion. She knew all the district exceedingly well. She knew who lived here, who lived there, and who> lived everywhere ; and if I had been more atten- tive I might have carried back in my mind some useful information. The day was pleasing and the termination very agreeable, for Malachy accepted an invitation to dinner. Irish hospitality as well as English hospitality at that period was not refined. There was abun- dance of everything, any amount of kindness,, but an utter disregard of etiquette. Eefinement is quite a modern advantage, and we are indebted for the gracefulness which it diffuses around a table to the presence of ladies. All the ladies- dined with us.. The table talk of the hour had reference to what we had seen during the dayy, but it was only general and not particular. St.. Cavan's bed was re-discussed. One lady said she would have no objection to sleep in it. Another of the ladies hinted that she would prefer a mattress and plenty of blankets if she ventured into it. A third said that she preferred to sleep at home. All this was uttered ROBERT EMMET. 97 in such pleasing accents that the responses were delightful smiles ; for, fortunately for the pro- motion of human happiness, every little emana- tion of wit from ladies' lips should be accepted as a delicious pleasure. Mr. Lambert, who was our host, served his guests with the best possible drink for a good dinner; and on the ^emoval of the cloth, the ladies, as was their wont at that time in Ireland, complimented the gentle- men by accepting a glass of punch ladled out of a bowl. Mr. Lambert resembled my uncle very much in a national way, and, like the patriarchs of the country, they were both tall athletic men. Time, years, and hospitality had given weight and com- pass to their persons ; but, like other descendants of what they called the great houses, they were content to talk about their ancestors without ever thinking of doing anjrfching that would enable them, through altered circumstances, to realise an inde- pendence never properly enjoyed by those whose names had descended to them. 6 j9& ROBERT EMMET. CHAPTEE XI. IRISH LITERATURE. Night had nearly closed around before we stood up to depart. The traveller offered to accompany lis a part of the way to the Castle. "We were joined by the tall gentleman to whom the lady had- referred during our excursion as her affianced. This gentleman and Malachy got into deep conversation, and preceded us by some perches. As Malachy's previous conversation with me on the political influence of Catholicism did not quite satisfy me, I availed myself of this opportunity to elicit the traveller's opinion on the subject.. I wanted to know what his opinion was in reference to the difierent efie cts which Catholicism and Protestantism respectively produce on the human intellect. "My dear friend," said Mr. Lambert, "active EGBERT EMMET. 99 intellect is the result of leisure compelled or justified by wealth or position. Poverty is utterly antagonistic to the development of the mind. A man must have two things before he can think. He must have a large vocabulary, and he must be surrounded by circumstances which provoke ideas. Ideas cannot enter the mind unless a man be provided with adequate language. The clown is not so provided. Poverty sometimes may be the consequence of tyranny, of coercion, of restraint, and of imprisonment. Such poverty has now and then provoked intellectual energy; and, leisure being enforced, that energy betrays itself in the conception of knowledge. " This," I interrupted, " has, in former times, at all events, been true." " We find it," he replied, " to be universally true. Eude people have never had any literature, for the simple reason that they have no ideas, and they had no ideas because they had no amplified vocabulary." "But there have always been wealthy people." "Wealth in early times resulted from piracy and from war. War was rewarded with slaves : slavery gave leisure and wealth, and the moment these presented themselves literature also presented itself. It did this in Greece and in Eome, and the same thing was done in every nation in Europe. 100 ROBERT EMMET. Christianity made its pleasing appearance in the midst of opulence and refinement. Opulence and refinement produced then, as they have very often done since, laxity of morals. Licentious- ness seemed to consort with Pagan habits ; and, as the people sufifered from such licentiousness, the pure morals of Christianity instantly became acceptable to the poor, who had thus an oppor- tunity of acquiring a knowledge of its principles." " Providentially," I interjected. " The great and the wealthy," he continued, "had then, and have had ever since, a kind of feeble abhorrence of Puritanism. The Christians by their purity became obnoxious ; and as their persecutors were the learned, the scientific, and^ if you please, the licentious, its teachers held litera- ture, wordly wisdom., and wealth in detestation. Learning to the pure young mind had an odour of Paganism about it, and the result was that it was completely proscribed." " Am I to infer from this," I said, interrupting him, "that Christianity was adverse to knowledge ?'* " By no means." " How so ?" I inquired. " Barbarism, " he replied, '■' early drove the Romans from their high places. The removal of the seat of the empire of Const antine — a political movement — from Rome to Constantinople hastened its down- ROBERT EMMET. 101 fall; and the grandeur of civilisation produced in its stead too much, fanaticism, too much perse- cution, and too much poverty. ISTorthmen have always been, even in their distant homes, the lovers of sunshine; and, from periods beyond the authority of records, we are led to believe by inference that they poured their hordes down by Western Europe. They came, but did not depart. They settled down in various districts in conquering bodies, and selected their bravest, as it were, to be their guides. They were all men of war. Wars, battles, and invasions grew out of this state of things ; and during the early and middle ages of Christiaiiity, and long after, there was no literature for thinking men to pour their thoughts through except rude verse and equally rude chronicles." "Did not," I asked, "the monks obviate all this?" ' "The monks," he replied, "had possession of the depositories of literature — that is, the Pagan and Christian manuscripts; but they were not under the influence of ambition or temptation to do more than render accessible by translation what they considered the better parts of Pagan works." " But then," I interrupted, " a few enthusiastic scholars succeeded in introducing classical learning into the modern world." " They did so," said Mr. Lambert, " and a great 102 ROBERT EMMET. deal too miicli credit has been ascribed to the influence of that introduction. Too much attention, perhaps, was paid to it by the schoolmen, who, it is now confessed, misunderstood it. The men acknowledged now to be the most learned treated with indifference, not to say contempt, almost every ancient author but Euclid and Ptolemy. Galileo even rejected Aristotle. Our knowledge, so vast, so useful, and so extending, has not pro- ceeded from ancient tongues, but from a better knowledge of our own and a better regard especially for what the Greeks and Eomans had not much veneration for — facts and experiments." " You remind me," I said, " of old Dilworth's aphorism : — * Leave all other tongues alone, Until you can read and write your own.'" " Not quite wisely," he remarked ; "but you now see Ireland may fairly start up in pursuit of know- ledge, literature, and science under circumstances which have never before presented themselves to this country, for now the English language is the language of Irishmen." " Was not," I asked, " the Irish language once national ?" *'Itwas," he replied, "national but not classical. The language spoken by only a very limited number of people could not be classical; [but, ROBERT EMMET. lOS whether it were or not, it must be obvious to you iihat it would now be quite unsuited to a people in pursuit of progress and knowledge, whUe the English language is spoken by millions of refined and intelligent people ; and now, if we only make use of our opportunity and abide our time, we may once more — without much difficulty I believe — entitle ourselves to the claims awarded to our ancestors — that is, of being the most learned people in the world." 104 EQBEET EMMET. CHAPTER XII BLACK MAIL. Next morning on expressing to my uncle the- great deliglit I felt on my visit to Glendalough, lie said — "Oh, the glory of Glendalough is all gone. There is nothing there now but relics of the past. It was not always so. Glendalough was a city of great importance in the middle ages. The O'Tooles, the O'Birns, and the Koaches were the chiefs of the whole district. They were very powerful — so powerful, that for many years they levied subsidies on Dublin as payment for affording the city pro- tection against other septs. This money was called Black Mail." " How long is that ago T I asked. " Not so very long ago/' was the reply„ " By-the- by I have heard a story taken out of a very recent EGBERT EMMET. 105 publication, which will give you a very good idea of what the Black Mail was, and what the manners of the time were." My uncle then went to his desk, and produced a publication from which he read the following tale: — Early one morning in the summer of 1308, a large crowd of persons had assembled in the neighbourhood of Thomas Gate, as the north-west entrance to the Irish metropolis was called ; it consisted chiefly of females, children, and elderly men; and, from the anxiety which was pictured upon every countenance, it was apparent that they were in expectation of some intelligence in which the inhabitants of Dublin were deeply interested. Some were engaged in audible prayer, and some endeavoured to banish fear from themselves and others by prognostications of good news. A few citizens mounted guard upon the battlements ; and, though the duty of a sentinel was then but imperfectly understood, they felt that a certain responsibility was imposed upon them, and accord- ingly showed, in their consequential strut back- wards and forwards, that they were vain of their arms, and perhaps more vain of their person. The bow was slung upon their backs, and one or two were clothed in coats of mail. To the unwieldy two-handled sword, the Irish skein was added, 106 EGBERT EMMET. and here the halbert lay carelessly against the wall of the prison, for Newgate then stood about the spot where Thomas Street now commences. "I wonder/' said one, "how do Regie's irons agree with M'Balthor's legs, within here ?" and he knocked his heel against the exterior wall of the prison. *' He's little concerned, I wot," replied his com.- panion, "for he'll soon dance an Irish trot on Hog's Green." " Not by himself," said the first ; " I hope our townsmen have been successful enough to afford a few to keep him company." " And 'twere a pity, too," said a third, " for what worse is he than the O'Birns and OTooles ? he steals fat cattle and fat aldermen, and so do they ; yet we hang the one and pay Black Mail to the others." " 'Tis aU a case, " said the first speaker, " the heads of the wild Irish rebels should grace these pikes here that stand in want of their usual ornaments since the M'Tuhills, or O'Tooles as you call them, forced us to strip them ; but, please heaven, we will recover our credit by-and-by, and liang every man of them. There can be no peace for the pale while these O'Tooles live." " That's but too true," rejoined the third, " and this had long since been the case, were not the colony dealt hard with by plagues and famines." ROBERT EMMET. 107 For centuries subsequent to the invasion of Leinster, the English power was circumscribed in Ireland; the Normans, who inhabited the pale, as a limited district around the metropolis was called, were regarded merely as the successors of the Esterlings ; as a people to be at once respected for their bravery and plundered for their wealth. The distant riaghs, or chieftains, were too much occupied in defending their little kingdoms, or invading those of their neighbours, to bestow any consideration on the English colony; but those who lived in the immediate neighbourhood of the metropolis frequently inflicted indignities upon the English subjects. They were occasionally compelled to purchase the forbearance of sur- rounding chieftains by an annual tribute, de- nominated Black Mail. To do the hardy colony justice, they were not insensible to the disgrace ; and, when opportunity presented itself, were not slow to resume their independence, and refuse compliance with the compact to which their necessities, not their wills, consented. Such, however, were the misfortunes of the pale, that it was seldom in a condition, for any length of time, to withstand the hostile irruptions of the O'Birns, O'Tooles an d Cavanaghs, whose possessions stretched from the river Barrow, which divides Kilkenny from Wexford, to within a few miles of Dublin. When plagues and famine — and they were fre- 108 ROBERT EMMET. quent in their recurrence — had thinned the inhabitants, or when distant and fatal expeditions — for they once invaded Scotland — had impaired their resources, the O'Birns or the O'Tooles were sure to pour down upon them, and retire only with hostages as an assurance that the Black Mail would be paid in future. A combination of calamities had, some time previous to the year 1808, compelled the citizens of Dublin to submit to a renewal of the indignity, and Eobert le Decer, the son of the provost, was detained as a hostage for the fulfilment of the terms imposed by the O'Toole, of Glendalough. In these days, as well as in modern times, political compacts endured no longer than as it suited the interests of the contracting parties to act up to the terms of the treaty ; and hostilities were frequently commenced at the expense of those who remained as securities in the hands of the enemy. This morning the more feeble part of the popu- lation had assembled without the city walls, in expectation of the return of their martial friends, who had the previous day proceeded to make reprisals on the O'Mores, of Leix, as the inhabit- ants of the Queen's County were then called. As the morning advanced their anxiety increased, and they apprehended the worst, when a voice ROBERT EMMET. 109 fi*om the top of the battlement called out, " They €ome ! they come ! " This was followed by a shout of exultation, and in a few minutes the black banner which the citizens bore in times of hostility became visible on the heights of Kilmainham, in the midst of columns of dust, which intimated the approach of the cavalcade. The crowd now simultaneously rushed forward to greet the martial citizens, whose heroism on this occasion was crowned with victory. John le Decer, the provost, for Dublin had then no lord mayor, bowed to the greeting multitude as he rode in the van of his companions, who followed in that disorder which then charac- terized the movements of hostile numbers. Here and there the head of an Irish enemy was elevated upon a pole, and the sight of the bleeding frag- ment did not seem to damp the joy of the citizens. Huddled together, about twenty prisoners marched along amidst the jeers and insults of their captors; but, undismayed at the probable fate which awaited them, they acknowledged the iingenerous treatment of the victors by looks in which scorn and despair were intimately blended. These kerns exhibited in their persons a fair specimen of the Irish soldier of the period, and the tout ensemble was such as to elicit the admira- tion of their enemies. The absurd customs of other 110 EOBEKT EMMET. climes had not been then introduced into the- island ; nature was allowed to exert her privileges, and the result was the full development of manly- beauty. Tall, but elegantly proportioned, their sinewy limbs and elastic frames indicated the utmost activity ; and it would seem that they were conscious of the possession of physical beauty, for their dress was studiously adapted to give the utmost effect to their personal endowments. The trews adhered closely to the limbs, and the vest^ like ancient armour, accommodated itself to the inequalities of the body ; while the mantle of the kerns, from its shortness, being not longer than- a modern pelerine, did not conceal any part of the body, or restrain the wearer from personal exertion. At the period to which we allude, the barred, or cap, was not universally worn. Fond of long flowing locks, the hair was considered as a suffi- cient covering for the head; and, unlike the Saxons, who shaved the upper lip, the Irish, in anticipation, as it would appear, of modern times,. shaved the chin, but cherished formidable mus- tachios. Such was the dress worn by the captives, who^ now stared around them with vague feelings of regret and revenge; while the proud citizens, clothed in their leathern doublets, regarded them as mere ferocious savages, whom it was meritorious EGBERT EMMET. Ill to rob and butcher, when either could be done with impunity. Besides this 'prey, there were a hundred head of black cattle, the sight of which increased the general joy. All was now bustle and gladness ; the public had no sympathy with the few who mourned the relations who were killed, or had fallen into the hands of the enemy, as the Irish then really were. In a short time the city authorities were assem- bled. They congratulated each other on the success of their hosting into the O'Mores' country ; for though the citizens depended chiefly on trade, they sometimes imitated the barons and great men of the age, by resorting to very summary, if not very honest, means of enriching themselves. Hushed with victory, they resolved to follow up their success, and instead of paying Black Mail to the M'Tuhills, they determined to make an incursion into their country. Here, however, a difficulty arose ; it was recollected that Robert le Decer was an hostage at Glendalough, and any violation of the compact on their parts would certainly place his life in some danger. This puzzled the good citizens, and, after some hours spent in discussion, they adjourned undecided, to digest that, along with other matters, in the hall of the tholsel where those good things were prepared, which martial,; as well as peaceable citizens delight to discuss. 112 ROBERT EMMET. The gates were shut, and the citizens had sought repose, when the provost was shown into a dark damp dungeon of the city prison. " Do you sleep, M'Balthor ?" inquired the provost, as he held the lanthorn to the face of a man, who, wrapped in his mantle, sat silently upon a rude stone, the only furniture of the place. " Sleep," repeated the prisoner, sarcastically, looking around him and snuffing up the filthy odour of the place ; " where, Saxon, would you have me stretch myself ? besides, I can't afford to sleep just now." " For planning some new scheme of robbery T " Of vengeance you mean," interrupted the prisoner. " It may be so," returned the provost, '' but first the laws must take vengeance upon you. You have burnt our dwellings, you have butchered our citizens, you have robbed us " Of useless _po^Z 134 EGBERT EMMET. "were there once a rising in Ireland. "Where then would be the chance of England holding this country in subjection ? The very effort would be her own ruin; for, if she refused to acknowledge the independence of this island, an united Irish and French army would, in less than six months, sit before the gates of London." '*I must say you are an enthusiast, Mr. Emmet/* said I ; " and, if a Cockney heard your statement, how he would shake his sides with laughter ! " " Ridicule," rejoined Emmet, " is but a poor weapon against the force of reason. The Grecians despised Thebes ; but Thebes humbled both Athens and Sparta. Eome contemned those she called barbarians ; but, behold, those barbarians ulti- mately destroyed Rome! The history of the world is full of such instructive lessons ; and those who will not learn wisdom from the volume of experience must expect to endure the conse- quence of folly. England once held the same opinion of America that she does now of Ireland; and no doubt she will, one da}^, be made to acknowledge the latter as erroneous as the former ; for Ireland is now nearly twice as strong as America was at the time of the revolution." " Possibly," said the traveller, " with foreign assistance, Ireland might separate herself from England ; but I am very far from regarding such ROBERT EMMET. 135 an event as desirable, for then we should only change masters ; as those who came as friends would remain to domineer, and, in place of being subject to England, we should be subject to France." " Such an opinion,'' said Emmet, " is prevalent in England, and has found some advocates in Ireland ; but it is quite erroneous. America was assisted by France without being enslaved. The French never contemplated such a thing ; for, if they had, Ireland would long since have been lost to England ; and I know Buonaparte intended to make this country an independent republic at the time Hoche was sent here. The friendship of Ireland would be much better than her possession to a foreign power ; and there are so many reasons for making this apparent, that no continental sove- reign would ever attempt holdicg this nation in subjection. Even if he wished it, he could not; for the people who arose to shake off one yoke would never submit to endure another ; and Ireland is fully able to expel the most potent power in the world who should attempt to enslave her. Fashion has too long coincided with interest to treat this country with indifference; but, the moment she compares her strength with that of other nations, she will blush for her present abject condition." 136 ROBERT EMMET. " And if separated from England to-morrow,'* said I, " Ireland must resort to some other country for what this island does not produce." " That is/' replied Emmet, " she belongs to the great family of nations, and must resort to com- merce ; and so must all countries. But, though a wall of brass, as Berkley said, were raised round Ireland, she could maintain twice her present inhabitants ; and that's more than can be said of the sister kingdom. Speculators have detected our want of various articles ; but they might as well say England cannot maintain her independ- ence because she is obliged to go to China for tea and to Russia for hemp. Away with such objec- tions — they deserve no answer; for, if nations could not be free without possessing within them- selves all a nation wants, no country except China could be independent. If ever Providence," he continued, " destined any spot on this globe for the residence of a pure republic, it was Ireland. Rousseau selected Corsica ; but, had he extended his vision from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, he would have discovered in this country all he admired in the land of Paoli, while she was free from the objections that might be urged against his favourite island.*' *' Republicanism, I was taught in school," I observed, " to regard as a thing of brief duration. ROBERT EMMET. 137 It comes into existence in the absence of prepara- tion, and dies for want of maturity. Some insects live but a day, and the goose and the elephant are only long-lived." ''A people," said Emmet, " prepared to receive republicanism should not be wealthy, frivolous, or ignorant : they should be temperate, virtuous, and brave ; they should love justice, religion, and their country; and should have recently experienced the sufferings of oppression. Such are the people of Ireland. But these circumstances would only prepare the nation to receive a good government — ■ there are others requisite to enable them to procure it; and these are disposition, numbers, and geogra- phical position. Ireland has these — the people are anxious for a revolution, are able to effect it, and have all the aid that an isolated country, inter- sected with a thousand natural barriers, and strengthened by numerous defiles, can give a native and patriotic soldier over a foreign mercenary." " But," said I, " even the benefits you anticipate from the independence of Ireland are not to be acquired in opposition to the obligations of religion, which command aU men to be subject to lawful authority." '* You are right," he replied ; " all men should submit .to lawful authority, but no authority can be lawful but that of which the people approve. 138 KOBERT EMMET. * Shaking off power/ says Locke, ' which force, and not right, hath set over every one, though it bear the name of rebellion, yet is no offence before God, but is even allowed and countenanced by Him ; though even promises and covenants, which were obtained by force, have intervened/ That we might not misunderstand what he means by speaking of force, the same illustrious philoso- pher previously observes — 'Who doubts but that the Grecian Christians, descendants of the ancient possessors of the country, may justly cast off the Turkish yoke, which they have so long groaned under, whenever they have an opportunity to do so ? No government can have a right to obedience from a people who have not freely consented to it ; which they never can be supposed to do, till they are put in a full state of liberty to choose their government and governors,'" " Or/' said the traveller, " 'at least, till they have such standing laws, to which they have, by them- selves or their representatives, given their free consent/ I believe this is the conclusion of the passage/' " Admitted/' replied Emmet ; " but recollect what Locke says elsewhere of free consent, which can never be supposed to exist until subjects are free to give consent. ' The people,' says he, ' owe no obligations whilst force, and not choice, compels EGBERT EMMET. 139 them to STibmission.' If lie had written on the state of Ireland, his words could not have been more applicable. The truth is," continued Emmet, " Christianity does not abrogate a single law of Nature ; and, though Popes have sometimes attempted to dictate the civil duties of mankind, they usurped an authority not delegated by their Master; for we have a high authority for saying that Christianity has, in respect of civil lights, left us where she found us." " The whole argument," returned the traveller, *' resolves itself into a question of expediency; for if Ireland, in resisting the English Government, subjected herself to less inconvenience than by submitting, she ought immediately to revolt. Eut, in balancing the advantages and disadvantages of such a measure, lies the difficulty of ascertain- ing the expedient. We are to consider the state of affairs before and after a revolution; and, estimating the inevitable horrors of such an event, see whether it would not be more for the happiness of Ireland to continue hand in hand with the sister kingdom than to wade thiough the blood of millions to a republican government, which, after all, might not be so advantageous to the country as a participation in the British con- stitution. Leaving out the intimidating example of republicanism in France, which may or may 140 ROBERT EMMET. not be a case in point, we must be aware that England would not patiently surrender her claim to our obedience ; and that consequently Ireland would be subject to a protracted civil war, the misery of which may be partially estimated by those who have witnessed the trivial horrors of the late rebellion. Supposing our arms triumph- ant,'' he continued, "and the Government expelled, we are not to imagine that Irishmen are more virtuous than others, or expect that we should be free from the intrigues of faction. Domestic dis- cord, in all probability, would succeed to civil war, and internal hostilities prove not less destructive than the arms of our enemies, while our folly might induce England, or some other power, to attempt a second reduction of the island.'* '^All this may be possible," replied Emmet, " but not at all probable ; for, where the choice of public officers would devolve upon the people, these functionaries would have the confidence of the majority of the nation, and of course nothing more in a free state is desirable." " Well, then," returned the traveller, " even admitting the possibility of an established republic, it follows, of course, that your new government would not have the resources of an old one ; and that, in the infancy of the state, you would be subject to the inconvenience of all feeble nations — ROBERT EiOCET. 141 that of being made the theatre of hostilities between the neighbouring and belligerent powers ; and, of course, von wonld be relnctantly compelled to enter into an expensive and destructive war.'"' '•'Out insular situation," replied Emmet, '•'secures ■QS from such an evil ; and England, once separated from Ireland, could only hope to continue powerful by courting our alliance. ' If all possible otjec- tions,' says Johnson, ' are first to be obviated, no man would attempt anything great or useful* Ireland is at present so abject and so miserable, that any change must be for the better." *' Pardon me, my friend," said the traveller, '' if I Bay you appear to be under a strong delusion, which leaves you almost inaccessible to argument. Ireland wants not a change of -circumstances, but a change of opinions, to be one of the happiest countries on the globe ; for her political situation might well raise envy. While connected with Great Britain, war can never approach her; and an agricultuial country wants only permanent tran- quillity to be prosperous and happy. On this ground alone I would implore Ireland to hold fast the connexion ; for, if she once separate, war will approach her fields as sure as her shores are washed by the waves of the Atlantic ; and no form of government can compensate for making it the seat of hostilities." 142 ROBERT EMMET. The concluding observations of tlie traveller appeared to have convinced Emmet k^w useless it would be to persevere in his arguments, and there- fore he diverted the conversation into an opposite channel. About twelve o'clock we took leave of the youthful Gracchus, and left him to meditate alone on his schemes of subverting the Irish Government ROBERT EMMET. 143 CHAPTEE XIY. POVERTY ALL OVER THE WORLD. Next morning, while at breakfast, I received a visit from my young friend. He appeared some- what embarrassed ; and, after alluding to our conversation of the preceding night, intimated that he did not wish any person should be informed of his political opinions. " In fact," he said, '^ I am peculiarly situated. My con- nexions, my brother, and my own incautious conduct while at college, have subjected me to certain suspicions calculated to inconvenience me should the government hear of my being in the country." "Then they do not know of it?" I inquired, with some surprise. " Certainly not," he replied. " Some time ago I thought it prudent to visit France, and have 144 ROBERT EMMET. - not lonej returned from Brussels. Business of a peculiar nature lias brought me back for a short time ; and, to avoid suspicion, I have been under the necessity of assuming another name — a thing I despise, but which circumstances have rendered absolutely necessary. The unfortunate are not to be judged by ordinary rules, and I hope you, sir, do not consider me less worthy of your friendship from the nature of my situation." I replied in the negative. " Then, I beg you will give me a proof of it b}^ calling at my country house — lodgings, I mean — near Rathfarnham, on your way out of town. Your friend, Mr. Lambert, has promised, if you accompany him, to dine with me. Inquire for Mr. Ellis ; our friend knows the house." Having promised to dine with him, he took his departure ; and, about three o'clock, the traveller and I set out for Rathfarnham. On our way I was astonished to see such a number of the poorer classes loitering about the doors of public-houses, or leaning over the battlements of every bridge we passed. "It is no wonder," said I to my friend, " that the Irish are miserable, since they are in such a want of employment." "We must not confound the want of em- ployment with the absence of employment; and, to prevent a confusion of ideas, let us call it EGBERT EMMET. 145 idleness, a word that clearly implies the condition of a portion of our population. Idleness is a rela- tive term, and has various significations attached to it in different countries, and under different circum- stances. In the East, to be free from toil is to be comparatively happy ; and to be exempt from labour is everywhere desired, though not everywhere attainable; for it depends solely on the facility, or difficulty, which man has in procuring subsis- tence. The natural state of the body, if not death, as some have it, is certainly a kind of torpor which is averse to exertion, because every exertion is attended with a certain portion of pain, the dread of which is only overcome by the application of some excitement ; and then the degree of activity depends upon the degree of stimulus that forces us into action, but when there is no stimulus there is no exertion. The merchant, when his desire for wealth is satisfied, fhes from the bustle of business to the indolence of tranquillity ; and the tradesman contemplates, as the reward of all his toils, ease and retirement. Even the poor labourer welcomes Sunday, because Sunday is a day of rest. So natural and so powerful is the wish of mankind to be exempt from laborious exertion, that he is universally accounted the happiest who has the least need of application to business, either bodily or mental." K 146 HOBERT EMMET. This argument did not satisfy me, and I offered some objections to it. " When first," said my companion, " I read the theories of philosophers, who never reflected — and the journals of travellers, who described what they had never seen — I was of opinion that it was possible for a high state of moral civilisation and good government to subdue this universal propen- sity of our nature, and make man enamoured of industry, merely for the sake of employment, independently of the hope of gain. The self- gratifying commendations of Englishmen, and the unthinking encomiums of those of my own country who had visited that land of manufac- tures, tended in no small degree to confirm this hasty conclusion. Filled with these sentiments, I had an exalted opinion of Englishmen and English civilisation ; and when I, in early life, landed at Bristol, I could not imagine myself in a British city, it difiered so much from what I had expected. Subsequently, my visit to London and residence in that metropolis convinced me that I had formed an erroneous estimate ; for I found men such as they are found everywhere : some extremely rich, and others extremely poor ; some very good, and some very vicious ; but I never found one inclined to work who was not impelled by either present necessity or the distant hope of being one day able to remain idle." EGBERT EMMET. 147 " They work very hard in England," I observed. " An Englishman," he said, ^' certainly works hard — perhaps, in some cases, harder than an Irishman. And why ? Because, from the low price of labour and the high price of the necessaries of life, he toils for the most cruel of task-masters — Want. He has no alternative but unremittent labour or the workhouse ; for a week's idleness would ruin a whole family. If you want the key to English industry, it is absolute necessity* Habit, perhaps, has made labour in that country less dreaded than in others ; but circumstances have certainly made it more imperative than in -any nation I have ever seen or read of" " If employment," I interrupted, " can be always procured in such a quantity as to supply the poor man's wants, I should pronounce him comparatively happy, whatever may be the argu- ments of philosophers." " That every man in England," replied the traveller, "who seeks employment, does not find it, must be evident, even to a stranger who reads the reports on the poor-laws. The magistrate has instructions to procure employment, and has power to compel the vagrant to work : yet every eighth labouring man in England is idle; and idle, because neither the influence of authority nor the dread of hunger can procure him employment. Pauperism 148 ROBERT EMMET. in England devours an annual sum that would be adequate to tlie maintenance of every agricultural labourer in Ireland in the common diet of the country ;^ and we may form some idea of British misery by recollecting that the population of Lon- don, vast as it is, is not equal to the number of those who receive parochial relief in the country.'* " Admitting this to be the case," said I, " it only shows the utility of those laws which relieve so much misery." "It shows, my dear sir," returned my friend, " that misery is not excluded, though it be some- what mitigated ; and it shows how much happier Ireland is than England, always bearing in mind that the lower orders, in every country, form the nation." " You cannot persuade me of this, for it shows no such thing. Warm clothing and good eating must have the advantage of cold and hunger^ unless you can make us forego all our ideas of 'comfort and happiness." " Mere animal happiness," replied the traveller,, "consists in the gratification of desires; and, of course, must be the greatest where the smallest number of desires are excited, and the means of gratification most easily obtained. He that can exchange six months' labour for an annual supply of those necessaries he has learned to esteem. ROBERT EMMET. 149 and wMch he finds sufficient for all his wants, must be more happy than he who toils through the twelve months for a scanty portion of daily nutriment. And the difference must be still greater if the former labour under no apprehension, while the latter, like the guest of the tyrant, is in continual dread that what is always sus- pended over him may, at any hour, descend ; for when the labour of the day is to supply its wants we must suppose that, where there is no employ- ment, distress and its concomitants must prevail. These two cases," he continued, " exactly apply to England and Ireland. In the former a great portion of the labouring class is employed in manufactures, and is consequently subject to the fluctuations of trade. They live in continual uncertainty — an evil only surpassed by the stings of immediate want. Add to this, that custom has made animal food the necessary diet of all; and, by comparing the price of meat with the price of labour, we shall find that it must always be scanty." "And is not this the case in Ireland V " No ; in Ireland is found the reverse of this. The people are agriculturists, and agri- ctdturists in a peculiar sense; for nearly every man has a farm ; and, though the English mon- opolist may feel indignant at the prostitution 150 ROBERT EMMET. of the term, I must tell him that the Irish cottier's farm, whatever may be its size, supplies its owner with as much as he derives from his thousand acres — the means of subsistence, and probably as large a quantity of real enj oyment. Our peasantry, in which class may be comprised all our working people, are frequently idle, but seldom hungry. Potatoes are generally so abundant as to be con- verted often into manure ; and, although the crop may fail in some counties, the deficiency is made up by the quantity in others. Common Indus try must place every man beyond the possibility of want; and, in fact, so little exertion is requisite for this purpose, that, like the bees in Hindostan^ abundance has made the people indolently careless, while in some places they have neglected to make any provision for an approaching winter, when they have found the former one had passed off without causing any distress. The occasional sufferings of the peasantry, which are always local, have this last century originated in super- abundance ; for a year of extraordinary plenty has generally been succeeded by a year of privation. This is a fact which clearly shows that the principal evil to be complained of consists in the facility with which the necessaries of life are obtained." " But you forget," said I, "that the food of the Irish peasant is nothing but potatoes, diversified with the occasional luxury of bacon and oatmeal. ROBERT EMMET. 151 " The palate," replied the traveller, " should never be allowed to decide upon what is fit for the stomach. Meat may be more grateful than potatoes and oatmeal, but it is not more wholesome, nor does it appear necessary for either promoting health or prolonging life — the two legitimate objects of all nourishment. The appearance and habits of the Irish peasantry declare that their simple diet is not only nutritive but satisfactory. Their athletic and active forms are a sufiicient proof of the first, while their contented and cheer- ful countenances, as well as their full flow of animal spirits, sufficiently demonstrate the latter. The general complaint of the English projectors who have visited Ireland is the aversion of the peasantry to constant and regular labour — anothei^ proof, if proof be needed, that they are neither under the necessity of working hard nor dissatisfied with the common diet of the country; for, amongst all the stimulants that impel men to labour, the apprehension of want is the greatest. Whenever the peasantry feel this necessity they quickly forego their indolent habits, and, like all persons similarly circumstanced, apply themselves to industry j but the moment want, or the dread of it, ceases to influence them, they relax in their exer- tions, and prefer the luxury of Oriental indolence to toil badly remunerated. Among such a people 162 ROBERT EMMET. the absence of employment is far from being an evil/' " All your arguments would not be sufficient to deter an Englishman from ridiculing your habits^ or induce him to dine on potatoes." " The progress of events," replied the traveller, "is likely to compel him to both. 'In the last century/ says Paley, ' the diet of those who now live upon flesh was milk, fruits, and vegetables ;' and, as this is the period Englishmen love to dwell on, is it not strange that they should reproach us for living now as their happy fathers did then ? In nations where diet is simple and abundant the people are very happy/' We were now within view of Eathfarnham; and, turning up a secluded lane with hedges on each side, we knocked at the door of a respectable but solitary-looking house. We obtained immediate admission, and found our friend waiting for us in a room badly furnished. After dinner the conver- sation, as usual, took a political turn ; and, while Emmet saw in every circumstance of the country nothing but indications of distress, the traveller would not admit that the want of manufactures, or the absence of the aristocracy, was an evil at all. " According to your theory," said Emmet to the traveller, " tyranny and liberty approximate more closely than mankind have as yet imagined." ROBERT EMMET. 153 " I believe," replied the traveller, " that liberty and tyranny are phantoms of the imagination ; or? if they ever had existence, their duration must have been very short, for no nation has ever been governed by them. All governments have been so modified as to be alike free from the agitations of unrestricted freedom and the sufferings of uncontrolled despotism ; while every nation pos- sesses some, no nation perfect, liberty; and the degree depends solely upon the circumstances, the happiness of society being the same under all these, because society moulds them to her purposes, ^s the banks are formed by the river ; and, however rugged or smooth, narrow or expanded, the same quantity of water flows through, as much passing over the shallow as the deep parts of the channel. How few of all these ills which affect mankind * kings can cause or cure !' " After some further discussion Emmet observed, ''I have heard you, Mr. Lambert, with pleasure, and admire the extent of your acquirements ; but your arguments, so far from proving the absence of misery from Ireland, absolutely tend to show that it is permanent, by demonstrating that while we are subject to England we can neither have trade, m.anufacture, nor a resident aristocracy. You have argued relatively ; but, in place of at- tributing our complaints, or rather the cause of 154 ROBERT EMMET. them, to a mistaken opinion, you should have charged them all to the absolute fact — foreign domination. That is the fountain of evil which irrigates the land with misery; and whoever should destroy the source from which it springs would deserve what he could not fail to obtain — the gratitude of the nation." " Well !" returned the traveller, "you will have it as you wish ; and, as the evening grows late, we must bid you good-bye." So saying, we arose and took our departure. EOBEKT EMMET. 155 CHAPTEK XV. A PEASANT'S TALE— A EEEEL EENDEZVOUS. The county of Wicklow possesses so many beau- ties, so many cataracts, glens, hills, and dales, that it was impossible for one like me, who had lived only on poetry and romance, to feel anything like ennui during my sojourn at Castlerath. Indepen- dently of external objects, however, there were others of a social nature, perhaps of a more attractive kind; and, while I enjoyed the pleasure of daily rambles through the most bewitching scenery, I spent my evenings where there were the "feast of reason and the flow of soul." Elm-grove, . the residence of Mr. Lambert, was not more than three miles from my uncle's castle ; and, as Malachy was often from home on business, I paid frequent visits to the house of my new acquaintance. Miss 156 ROBERT EMMET. Lambert was beautiful. She was everything a man who could write a sonnet might love ; and I had not been long in her societ}^ before I began to breathe thick and short, and betray other symptoms indicative of a mind diseased. In such cases young ladies are admirable physicians, at least in detecting the malady; and I flatter myself that Miss Lambert early knew the cause of my sighing, absence of mind, and languishing looks, that expressed everything, though they seemed to mean nothing^. She sano^ for me some of the sweet wild melodies of her country ; played Italian music for me on the piano, and took my arm when we walked in her father's garden. You may be sure my visits were long and frequent ; and, indeed, had there been no such attraction, I should have availed myself of the traveller's conversation. He had seen and learned much ; was full of anecdote; and deeply read in the history of mankind. One Sunday evening he was amusing us with some particulars of his adventures in the county of Wexford, in the year Mnety-eight. At the battle of New Eoss he saved the life of a British ofl3.cer, who would have been trampled to death had he not been conveyed to a place of safety by one of the armed peasants. His father was agreeably sur- prised, and said that the peasant resided near that place, and that his name was Howlan, the hero of ROBERT EMMET. 157 Oulard, upon which the traveller insisted on seeing him, and requested me to accompany him. After walking about a mile, we came to a neat thatched cabin, situated in a very sequestered valley. A river ran before it, and a few aged trees shaded the simple roof. The door was open, and, on our entrance, a peasant rose to receive us. He smiled as he handed me a chair, and looked in- quisitively at my companion. "Don't you remember me?'' inquired the tra- veller. " I Snow you; you are the man who, at my request, within the Bull gate, removed a British ofB.cer to a place of safety." "0! thunder and' ages," replied the peasant several times, — "is this yourself, your own four bones whole and sound after all ? Well, well, I knew I should see you again, though I was certain you was dead ; and many is the Fater and Avel said for your soul. Did you not fight like any E-oman for ould Ireland ? and what else could a real true-born Catholic do ? Troth, some of them didn't do as much, the spalpeens, or we wouldn't have now to begin again." "So, so, Howlan," said the traveller, "you haven't yet learned to be loyal ?" " Loyal ! " repeated the hero of Oulard ; " no, in troth, for it is not in my grain; and faith, I believe if I was paid for it, these stripes on my 158 EGBERT EMMET. back would not let me. Oh, no, the crow will get white feathers before Denis Howlan will forgive the Orangemen — bad luck to 'em." " I recollect/* returned the traveller, " a part of your story ; but the apprehensions I was under when I first heard it prevented me from attending to the whole. Was not your father murdered ?" "Murdhered!" repeated Howlan; "ay, murdhered over and over again; and wasn't I murdhered myself? But," he continued, "I'll just tell it all here to you both." Then, drawing his stool close to where we sat, he proceeded : — "My father (Lord be marciful to his sowl in glory !) kept a snug little farm on the right-hand side of the road that goes from Gorey to Ferns ; and, though I say it, there was not a more sasty man in the county of Wexford. I, myself, was the youngest of three sons and two daughters, and the devil a more genteeler family attended mass of a Sunday than Paddy Howlan's. My brothers were able strapping fellows; and, faith, there were worse boys in the parish than myself You may be sure we were real Croppies ; and why but we should for our religion and country ? " The winter before the rebellion the Yeo's * were out every night ; and dreadful work they made of * A contemptuous name for Yeomen, ROBERT EMMET. 159 it — ^burning, whipping, and shooting. A poor Catholic could not li^e at all at all ; and, as we expected that they would some time or other give us a call, we hid our pikes and guns in the ditches, and, to be sure, appeared as innocent as lambs. I shall never forget the 15th of November; no, never, while there is a drop of Irish blood in my sowl ; for, when I think of it, my brain boils, and my very flesh creeps, as if there was a blister all over me. Well, as I was saying, on the 15th of November I was coming home from Enniscorthy market ; and, being after taking a glass of the creature with one friend or another, I was pretty merry, and, to make the road light, I was singing to myself 'The ViGtimof Tyranny!' and the ould mare aself was so pleased with the tune, that she kept the track as straight as a die, though the night was as dark as pitch. Just as I came to the top of the houghareenf that led down to our house, a fellow seized my beast by the halter, and, while you'd be looking round you, a score of bayonets was ready to pop into poor Denis. 'Hallo I' said I, 'what's this?' 'You Popish rebel,' cried out the officer, for it was a party of the North Cork, 'what song is that you were singing V " ' Och, nothing at all,' said I, ' only new words to an ould tune.' •t"A small road. 160 EGBERT EMMET. "'Ah! then, said he, 'you shall soon sing another tune, unless you tell us of all the people you know to be United Irishmen/ . *^ 'Faith, and that's what I can soon do,' says I, ' for I know nobody/ The word wasn't well out of my mouth, when he ran his sword into my arm, saying, ' That's a tickler to help your memory/ 'Thank your honour,' says I; 'but as you are not Yeo's, I hope you will act decent, and let a poor boy pass. My name is Howlan, and never did any man an injury/ ' Howlan !' cried the officer ; ' you are the very man we want. Have you not two brothers V *Ay, and a father too,' I answered, quite calmly, though I was in a terrible pickle, with the blood streaming down my arm/ " I was then bid to drive down to my father's house, and they all kept quite close to me. The family were all in bed; and I, foolish enough, called up my poor father, then seventy years of age, and my two brothers. They came out into the lawn in their shirts, for they were so frightened they forgot to put on their clothes ; and, if they hadn't, they could not, for want of time. " My father said he had no arms ; and when he protested, which was the truth, that he was no United man, the sergeant knocked him down with a pistol, and some of the soldiers began kicking him while he lay on the ground. ROBERT EMMET. 161 My brothers, of course, (for what Christian would turn informer ?) refused to confess anything ; and, accordingly, the eldest was taken and tied to a car, and a drummer-boy proceeded to flog him at a desperate rate, while one of the party, to give him liglit, set fire to tlie barn. As the flames mounted up to the skies, I could see my poor brother's back, hackled into a rawgriskin, while the poor fellow refased to gratify his mur- derers with a single groan. My mother rushed out, and, falling on her knees, beseeched the villains to forbear ; but one of the soldiers gave her a kick in the stomach, and stretched her on the pave- ment." Here I interrupted Howlan's horrible narrative by declaring m}^ disbelief, thinking it impossible for any officer to permit such brutal conduct ; but the traveller assured me that torture was then regularly resorted to for the purpose of extorting confes- sions; and, to remove all scepticism, and to show the extent to which party hatred was then carried, he related a disgusting anecdote of a young lady, the daughter of a magistrate, who, in the excess of her loyalty, actually stirred her wine with the fragment of a finger which had that day been separated by a blow of her father's sword from the hand of a rebel [ Denis smiled at my incredulity, and proceeded. 162 ROBERT EMMET. " Knowing how soldiers then treated young girls, I made signs to my sisters, who had come to the door^ to shut it, and remain inside. They did so before the soldiers could prevent them ; and one of them, having seen what I had done, told the others, and in a minute there were a dozen stabs in my body. My eldest brother was then released, and the other tied up in his place ; when my father, who had recovered, rushed forward, and seized the drummer's arm. Poor man ! the savages had no pity on his tears, and he received several stabs. '^ Here Denis was overpowered with his feelings ; and, after hastily wiping away one or two natural drops from his cheek, continued. '' I was now questioned about United men, and arms ; and, as I also refused to make any discovery, they took and bound my hands behind me, and then, taking the halter from the mare's head, they placed it round my neck, and, raising the car up, hung me out by the back-band ! They were too cruel to let me die a natural death, and so cut me down a few minutes afore I went to Paradise. I can't tell anything about that time, but my ould mother tould me that my face was as black as a pot, and my tongue out a handle long. The first thing I recollect after being hanged was to see the poor ould house in flames, the soldiers having set lire to ROBEET EMMET. 163 it, to get my sisters out; but they were disap- pointed, as the girls had made their escape while they were hanging me. To make a long story short," continued Denis, "my father, myself, and two brothers, were thrown into the cart, and marched off to Ferns. Next day my father died in the guard-house ; and, after a week's confinement, my brothers and I were turned out, with pitch-caps upon our heads. We had now no house nor home; for, my father's life being the term of our lease, the landlord had seized on our little all, and so we went to sarvice, as did my sisters, my mother having died in a month after my father. My brothers were long before they recovered ; and, for myself, I'll feel the effects of that bloody night to the day of my death." Denis having concluded, the traveller exclaimed, " Horrible ! most horrible! but the retaliation was also horrible.'^ I also expressed my horror, and put a couple of guineas into the hands of a little boy, who had run in before his mother. The effect produced on me by the terrible narrative I had heard completely disqualified me for returning to Elm-grove; and, having begged of the traveller to apologise for my absence, I set off for Castlerath, Denis proposing to show me the way, as he had business on that road. 164 EGBERT EMMET. A particular instance of cruelty operates more pov^rerfully upon the human mind than the most laboured description of an extensive massacre. The tale of this untutored peasant, told in his own vulgar, but expressive language, produced a pain- ful interest in my feelings, while it excited my indignation to that degree of frenzy which made me instantly determine upon the Quixotic resolu- tion of finding out the officer under v/hose command the family of Howlan had been tortured, and call him to an account, or, at least, expose him to the world. Filled with this extravagant notion^ I inquired of Denis, as we walked along, where the North Cork were now stationed. " Lord bless your honour, " replied Denis^ " there's not a man of them on the land o' the living, for I was at the killing of them all myself — and quick work we made of it — on Oulard Hill." " Oh, I remember," said I, " Mr. Lambert spoke of your generalship there. How was that V "Why," replied Denis, "when I went to sarvice, my master lived in the very parish with Father Murphy, who, — God bless him ! coming one day through Ferns, saw the Yeo's shooting poor Catholics like dogs, trying how many of them a musket-ball would go through at once ; so in the evening he called his congregation together in the chapel. It was as dark as bags, and not a candle ROBERT EMMET. 165 lighted to show us the way to say our prayers. We were all as silent as death, and you could hear a pin drop on the floor while the priest was speaking. He tould us 'twas better die fighting for our religion and country than be butchered like sheep by the Orangemen. He said what was gospel ; and faith we took his advice, and marched in fine order after him, and he in the middle of us, to Oulard Hill, where we encamped for the night. The Yeo's fled like murder at the sight of us, for they are the greatest cowards in the world,- ' and sent the sogers to frighten us ; but faith their day was passed, and, once we burnt the candle, we'd burn the inch. When the red coats appeared our faces were all manner of colours, and many proposed to run away. ' No, no,' says I, ' the priest and God is with us, and what have we to fear ? Here is a ditch and gravel hole, and lie in them till the sogers come quite close, and when I cry out, Erin go Bragh, let every man start up and use his pike.' My advice was taken, and Father Murphy blessed us all. The sogers came up, sure enough, with a fellow like a turkey cock strutting before 'em on his horse ; and when they came quite near the ditch he went behind them, and we could hear the words, 'Eeady, present, fire.' Pop, pop, pop, went their muskets ; but faith I shouted out like a lion, Erin go Bragh, and 166 ROBERT EMMET. it would do your heart good to see what sport we had. They weren*t a breakfast for us ; and I had the pleasure, thank God! of sticking my pike into the rascally lieutenant who murdered myself and my father. You can read all this in any book you open, for it's everywhere printed." I could not but commend Denis's generalship, and involuntarily wished that I had been at Oulard with him. " Oh, as for that," he replied, " there's as good fish in the sea as ever was caught ; and, by-the-by, you may kill a hushion (Hessian) for yourself" I expressed my ignorance of his meaning, and desired him to explain; at which he came to a full stop, and asked, " Aren't you one of ourselves ?" This question was not less puzzling than his former inuendo ; and when I requested of him to speak plain, and use no ambiguity, he stepped quickly on; and, shaking his head, observed, " Be aisy now, sir ; you haven't lived so long at Castlerath without knowing what the boys are about. But I suppose it is bekase you haven't seen me at one of our meetings that you are shy at me ; but, troth, you needn't." It now struck me that seditious practices were going on in the country, and, from what I had heard and seen, no doubt remained but that Malachy and Emmet were, to say the least, deeply engaged in the conspiracy. The silence preserved ROBERT EMMET. 167 on the subject by my two friends appeared to me an unworthy reflection on my courage and love of liberty, and in the pique of the moment I resolved to show myself as ready as they were to stand forward against the oppressors of Ireland. Treason could not have approached me at a time more favourable: like Jaffier, circumstances had pre- pared me for the reception of seditious principles. The horrid history of Howlan*s sufferings had made so deep an impression on me that I burned with the desire of being instrumental in relieving Ireland from such monstrous tyranny. I was, it is true, an Englishman by birth, but Ireland always had my affection ; it was the land of my mother, and for it I felt a most ardent and proud attachment. That it was oppressed by a herd of local tyrants I could have no doubt; for I had heard Malachy relate his grievances, and I had listened to the tale of Howlan's wrongs. I was young, enthusiastic, and generous ; somewhat ambitious of renown ; and desirous of signalizing myself in some achievement that might preserve my name from oblivion. The opportunity, as I thought, now presented itself, and I willingl}'- em- braced it. I eagerly learned from Denis that the conspirators met in a valley not far from where we were, and that he was hastening to join them. I signified my readiness to accompany him ; and, 168 HOBERT EMMET. as Denis was not a man of ceremony, tie did not stand long upon punctilios, but immediately con- ducted me across a heathery and desolate hill towards the place of rendezvous. The night had closed around us as we approached a mountain chasm ; and, after scrambling through a rude aperture in a stupendous rock, we found ourselves in a kind of natural recess, formed by an amphitheatre of surrounding hills, whose over- hanging acclivities frowned in gloomy horror upon the little valley. By the light of the stars we could discern some persons, who had entered before us, proceeding towards the opposite side, and we accordingly followed in their footsteps. We had not proceeded far when the voice of a person speaking fell upon our ears, and I had not to listen long before I recognised the deep but harmonious accents of my friend Emmet, as he addressed the people around him, who appeared to be about the number of five hundred. His harangue was on popular topics of Irish grievances, and he spoke with a fervency of manner that showed him sincere in the sentiments he uttered. When he concluded Malachy took his station, and proceeded to address the peasantry. T could not but observe in his speech superior ingenuity. Emmet was more eloquent, but less artful ; more impassioned, but less logical. There was sincerity in every word ROBERT EMMET. 169 he uttered, and patriotism appeared to predominate in every measure he recommended, whilst humanity breathed throughout his discourse. But Malachy addressed himself directly to the passions, and so intimately blended religion with politics that his auditors could scarcely suppress the operation of their feelings ; and, when he concluded, an involuntary burst of applause followed. Denis, who had listened with the utmost atten- tion to both of the speakers, now took me by the hand, and led me into the throng. Malachy exclaimed, "A spy!" "A spy!" was re-echoed by a hundred voices, and in a moment the deferential awe of all present caused a circle to be formed around me, every man being eager to get as far as possible from what he considered the contagion of my presence. The indignation I felt at Malachy's imputation for a moment deprived me of speech, and I felt as if rivetted to the place, when Emmet kindly stepped forward and took me by the hand. " My friends," said he, " there is some mistake. Mr. Herbert is a young man of liberal principles^ and with high notions of honour, and I am certain that he is incapable of betraying our secret, much less acting as a spy upon our proceedings." " You do me but justice," I replied, " for I came 170 ROBERT EMMET. ihere this night to learn if your cause was such as required or deserved the assistance of a freeman's arm, and not basely to betray my countrymen, for I trust those that surround me will not refuse me the fcternal embrace because I was born in England ; but my mother, at least, was Irish." This remark elicited much applause, and I pro- ceeded : " I trust that the person who has imputed such a base motive to my presence here has mis- taken me " — " You are right, Godfrey," interrupted Malachy, with the utmost familiarity; " I did indeed mistake you for another person." " I thought as much," said Emmet ; " and let u& now rejoice that our cause, the noblest in which man was ever engaged, has received the acquisition of a pure spirit, who feels indignant at our wrongs, and who burns to avenge them." Harmony being thus restored, the meeting, after some desultory proceedings, dispersed, and Emmet, Malachy, and I, proceeded to Castlerath. The arguments of my enthusiastic young friend during the evening served to make me enamoured of his ideal republic, which he painted in all the rich colours of his vivid and discursive fancy. For the first time in my life I retired to rest with the sin of disloyalty on my soul. ROBERT EMMET. 171 CHAPTER XVI. A FUGITIVE. We had a pleasant dinner party next day at the Castle. Mr. Lambert and his son were both present. My uncle, being in a right good humour, reminded the traveller that he had not yet detailed the story of his exile. " Then,*' said the traveller, " I will tell it to you now." " My first impulse on separating myself from Father Roach was to hasten towards the residence of my uncle at Baldwinstown. A couple of hours enabled me to accomplish this journey ; but though the time was brief, a world of reflection, of regret, and of hope ran through my mind, as if an age had passed. My uncle and cousin, as might be expected, were astonished to see me ; but when I related 172 ROBERT EMMET. the cause of my presence tliey were filled with evident dismay." " The country," said my uncle, "is fuE of terror. The boys in Wexford have been committing horrible murders — for, between ourselves, they were nothing else. The army is now encroaching upon them. General Lake may be there in a day or two ; and General Moore co-operating, blood will flow in streams in the streets.'' " What then is to be done ?" I asked. " To stop here would be ruin," replied my uncle. " Your best plan will be to make your escape to England or France as speedily as possible." ■ " How am I to go ?" I inquired. " There is some possibility of your getting to France," said my uncle. " How r " Down at Kilmore there is a colony of fishermen — nominally fishermen, but in reality smugglers. I know them all, for I have often bought brandy and fish of them ; and it is very possible that some of these may be induced to run their boat with you to England, or perhaps to France. I am not a judge of the distance, so I think we had better go down to inquire." I agreed to this very natural suggestion, and we set out on foot to Kilmore. It was only a couple of miles distant, and half-an-hour brought us to the. ROBERT EMMET. 173 seaside. We had no difficulty in obtaining the information we required. England could easily be reached in a day and a night. " But then," I said, " when I go to England what will become of me there ?" My uncle shook his head doubtingly. " I should like," I said, " to go to France." « Very distant," said the fisherman. "It would take two or three days to run a boat there ; but there is one now in the bay of considerable size and of great capacity for sailing, and the captain might be induced for money to take you there.'* " How much money ?" asked my uncle. " Well," he said, " I think thirty pounds would do it." " Very well," replied my uncle; " let me see the captain." The 'captain, a gruff, resolute-looking fellow, seeming more French than Irish, and very decisive in his manner, soon appeared. Turning to me he said : " If you want to go to France, now is your time. I start immediately ; but I must be paid for the danger." " Certainly," said my uncle. " How much ?" " Thirty pounds," replied the captain. " Agreed.'' That night we set sail. The next day was fine, 174 ROBERT EMMET. but we were not free from apprehension. Naturally enough I saw an enemy in every sail ; but the skipper, on seeing my anxiety, ever and anon silenced my alarm by informing me what ports these ships represented, and we sailed on. The second day the wind rose ; and on the third it became a hurricane. The skipper was alarmed, and I regarded myself as all but lost. There was not, however, much time for speculating upon the matter, for the little boat became somewhat unmanageable, and the skipper said, "There is only one chance for us : we must run before the wind." Before the wind we did run, and as we proceeded, on the fourth, day a vessel appeared in the offing, and was soon down upon us. " She is a French- man," said the skipper. My heart was lightened. The Frenchman hailed us, and the skipper neared her. In a few minutes an officer of the vessel inquired in French where we were going. " To France," was the skipper's reply. " Who is that stranger with you ?" he asked. " An Irishman," was my answer. " An Irishman ?" " Yes," I replied. " And where are you going ?" " I am going," I replied, " to join the French army, if it will accept my services." " I suspect," said the officer, " it does not want EGBERT EMMET. 175 recruits like you. You look more like a spy. Come on board." I was soon on board; but the skipper, before leaving, said, " I want the thirty pounds." " My uncle/' I replied, " will pay you." " Good," said he ; and then shoved off. In a few minutes the captain of the vessel became communicative, " What are you coming here for ?" he asked. '• I am proceeding," I replied, " to some place for safety." " For safety ?" " Yes. I have been engaged with the Insurgents at New Eoss, and we have been defeated. Our cause is lost. I am seeking safety, and am anxious to join the French army." " Ah, ah !" he said, " there may be something in that ; but there may be something in the other thing, too. This may be all deception. Have you any proof of the statement ?" "]^one whatever," I answered. " You are not wounded," he asked. ''No," I replied. " Have you any documents ?" " No." " We shall soon see," he remarked. '' Call up one of the stewards," he said to one of the men, " and we will commence a search." 176 KOBERT EMMET. On searching me he pulled out of my pocket a piece of paper. It was the proclamation of General Harvey before the battle of New Ross ; and the captain, being unable to read English, commanded me to translate it, which I did very correctly ; for, as Malachy knows, he and I learned a tolerable amount of French from Abbe Darie, at Dundrum. " Well," said the captain, " there is something in it. What you say may be perfectly correct ; but I will soon have an opportunity of regarding you, either as an enemy or a friend." The French fleet I believed had not yet sailed from Toulouse, and I hoped to be there before it started ; but the fleet it seems had just left, and we had to continue our course in pursuit. The expe- dition, it is well known, stopped at Malta, very foolishly, for Nelson had at that time nearly refitted himself, and was in pursuit. Ignorant of this fact, we continued our course for Egypt, but soon sighted in the distance the French fleet on its way. In two hours we were in the midst of the French ships, and, on an of&cer coming on board, I was placed in a boat and conveyed to one of the vessels, where questions similar to those put to me by the French captain were repeated. General Harvey's proclamation, I found, had been conveyed to the commander, and after some time I was ROBERT EMMET. 177 summoned to the presence of a distinguislied officer. He was a small man, — but it is unnecessary to describe his person. It was Buonaparte. " You are," he said, " a soldier ? " " No, sir," I replied, " I am not a soldier." " What ! not a soldier ? This proclamation bears the signature of General Harvey." '' He was," I said, " a general in the Insurgent camp." " Oh ! he was an Insurgent, and you were one of his officers V " I had that honour," I replied. " Do you mean to say,'' he asked, " that General Harvey was a civilian ? " " Nothing more," I answered. " And you were also a civilian ? " '^ Nothing more." " Whom did General Harvey command ? " he further inquired. " What we called the Kebel army." " Peasants ?" he asked. " Precisely," I said. ''And, of course, you were defeated ? *' " We were," I said. " With great slaughter ? *' " Not great slaughter," I replied. " You ran away ? " M 178 ROBERT EMMET. " Every man of us," I said. " How long did the battle last ? " he further inquired. " There were two battles," I answered. " At the first we drove the soldiers out of the town across a wooden bridge ; and at the second they returned and drove us out." " You were peasants," he said, " and they were military. When peasants and military meet, the peasants are quickly dispersed. I have heard," he continued, " something of this Irish insurrection — at least of the preparations for it. You have heard of O'Connor, one of the chief rebels ? " ■ " I have seen him," I replied. "And of Emmet?" " I knew him," was my answer. " These gentlemen and others," he said, " waited upon me " I here bowed my head, and observed, "Sir, I was not aware that I was in the presence of General Buonaparte." " Never mind that. These gentlemen waited upon me, and invited me to invade Ireland. Probably I would have acceded to their wish, but their statements seemed very vague and uncertain, and they were also at variance with each other. They were Protestants, they told me, and the insurrection was to be got ROBERT EMMET. 179 up by the Protestants. The Eoman Catholics were opposed to the movement, and were to have no participation in it. This was very proper ; all sensible men will oppose rebellion. History is the same thing in all ages in the world; and, natm*ally enough, it was the same thing, the other day, in Ireland, Sir, I believe your statements. You shall have employment in the French service^ but in the meantime you will have to acquire military knowledge. You will have to learn drill, and you will have to put on a uniform/' Addressing one of the officers, he said, " Take this gentleman to Denon : he may be more useful in his department than in mine." In almost a moment I was introduced to the gentleman alluded to, so famous in science. He was excessively kind, and at once handed me over to the care of one of his subordinates. In a short time I was at home. The next day I was ushered into the presence of the General. He was very pre- cise in his inquiries about Ireland, and about every- thing in it, and about the people. "Fine soldiers," he said, "but uncommonly pious. Their piety stands in the way to independence; but by-and-by they will get rid of that, as the French have done." He then dismissed me, and I returned to the department appointed — to the scientific staff. On landing in Egypt I continued on the staff. 180 EGBERT EMMET. but was told that I might be useful — and must make myself so — as an interpreter in the event of an introduction to Englishmen, or of our coming in contact with Englishmen, for there were, no doubt, a number of English traders in Alexandria. I of course promised to be useful, and soon learned to appreciate the urbanity, politeness, and knowledge of the gentlemen amongst whom I was placed. They were men of great learn- ing, of large ideas, and of extensive knowledge, free from every kind of prejudice, and devoted to ex- periments. During the four days of our voyage I had learned to respect and admire them. On landing, apartments were provided for the stafij. and I was placed among them. I learned very soon to make myself familiar with all around me, and flattered myself that I inspired respect. You all know that an engagement with the Mame- lukes followed soon after our arrival; and as very few of the scientific staff had been in the army, I, with others, obtained permission to accompany the non-military portion of those who desired to see a battle. On our setting out we were told that we would be used in the event of our services being required. I hoped to have been useful, and longed ardently to see a real battle. I saw one, for I was present at the battle of the Pyramids ; and had the honour, if I may call it such, of carrying a despatch to the General himself, who ROBERT EMMET. 181 was too busy and too anxious to recognise me; and I returned, fortunately, unhurt. The battle pro- ceeded. The history of it is written better than I can describe it, and no doubt you have all read the French narrative and the English one. After the battle the scientific staff had a great deal of work, and I had much to do in one way or another. The General was constantly with us. He conversed with our chiefs, and explained the kind of government he intended to establish in Egypt. Various opinions prevailed in the staff, and they were freely communicated among each other. One opinion was that Napoleon intended to take possession of Egypt for himself. Another was, that in order to do this he would reconcile himself to the Mahomedaus by becoming a Maho- medan. There was little doubt that something like that intention had entered his mind. He had no particular religion whatever. Christianity he described as operating by terror, Mahomedanism by promise; and evidently he preferred the pro- mise to the fears. The Christian can never get rid of his early impressions. Napoleon himself never did, notwithstanding his avowed indifference. A great number of the staff were really religious, and in their conversation with each other they took some pains to reconcile Christianity to :science. Nelson was now near to the coast, and the 182 ROBERT EMMET. battle of the Nile commenced. It ended, as you all know, in the destruction of the French fleet. Napoleon did not conceal the peculiarity of his position, and laboured very hard to reconcile the Egyptians, not only to his presence, but to his government and administration, both so well directed as to ensure their attachment. Their attach- ment, however, was only "lip deep." It was a sham, for in a very short time an enemy appeared on the frontier of Syria. An expedition was projected for the purpose of putting down this enemy, and some of the staff and myself were appointed to accom- pany the troops. We had a very narrow escape, and the troops also had a very narrow escape, but the enemy was utterly defeated. We brought with us to the French Academy which had then been formed in Cairo some evidences of the present and past state of the country. Naturally enough Napoleon continued in deep thought and in great anxiety for his position, which he at- tempted to strengthen by conciliating the Maho- medans. It was a failure. A conspiracy in Cairo was got up against him, and some of the generals he most loved were -butchered. He retaliated, and the slaughter in the Mosque followed. There was a look-out daily for French ships, but none appeared. Efforts were made to obtain news indirectly beyond Egypt, but without success. The Porte had despatched troops to I ROBERT EMMET. 18S attack us, and we had all to cross the desert. It was a dreadful journey. Fatigue, thirst, disease, and ever and anon suicides, marked our progress. Napoleon, however, was equal to the occasion. The Porte's troops were defeated. Pestilence had broken out at Jaffa, and the conduct of Napoleon on that occasion needed something more than an apology ; but all the secrets of the afBiir are not yet known. To the astonishment of the French army, Napoleon resolved to sail for France, Fortunately in all probability, for me, the staff accompanied him, and during the voyage I was occasionally' amongst those who heard his remarks and listened to his pregnant inquiries. At school, Malachy, you know, that I was very fond of science so far as I could ascertain its nature. In history you and I learned aU we cotdd, thoiigh that was not much ; but both of us had an appetite for knowledge. This appetite was gratified and encouraged during the run to France. Danger was never absent from the General's mind during the voyage ; but in due time we landed, and I found myself in Paris. The members of the scientific staff were at home in the capital. They were very kind to me, and I owed much to their kindness ; but, as Dr. Johnson observed, there is no amusement in the anecdotes of beggary; and I was poor enough. " Poor fellow ! " interrupted my uncle. 184 ROBERT EMMET. "I was not exactly hungry/' continued the narrator, "but I had often to put up with a very- hard crust. I lived by giving lessons in English in French schools and to French pupils, and as I had access to all the libraries, I had nothing to do but to study. Reading was relief to me — memory a pain. I thought of home with a sigh. Everyone I had left in Ireland was ever present to my mind. If I could have painted, I would have drawn their likenesses ; but as I heard nothing of them, and could obtain no knwledge of them, or any assistance in money, I had to live on as best I could, and the best was not a thing which implied indulgence in luxuries. My avocations as a teacher brought me into contact with many influential people. Intercommunication had given me perfect mastery of the French language ; and I may say, without vanity, that most things known to the French were tolerably well known to me. In the libraries were English works. English history was there, Poetry and English ethics were also there; and I may illustrate the old adage that ' poverty makes us acquainted with strange bedfeUows.' Poverty made me acquainted with all that English- men or Frenchmen knew. Still I longed for home. I longed to breathe the pure air on Wicklow hills. I wanted to embrace those who, though distant, had increased my love and veneration, ROBERT EMMET. 185 and I was not, you may be assured, displeased when I heard of a prospect of peace. '^ Full of pleasant anticipations, 1 took a stroll in the garden of the Tuileries, and after sauntering up and down a gentleman passed me, looked at me, and walked on. He, however, soon returned, looked at me again, stopped suddenly, and begged pardon for inquiring if I were an Englishman. My reply was in the negative. " Then you are an Irishman ?" he said. "■ I am," I replied. " Do you know me V " I have, sir, no knowledge whatever of you." " If I am not," he said, " greatly mistaken, I know you. Were you ever in New Eoss ?" " I was there at a battle two or three years ago," I replied. " Do you remember that inside of what they called the Three Bullet Gate an officer's horse was shot under him, himself wounded, and both fell to the ground ?" " I remember." " I am that officer, and you saved my life. There were a dozen pikes at my breast when you inter- posed, and had me conveyed to a house opposite." "Your memory, sir," I said, "is very precise, and permit me to say that I am rejoiced to see that you are alive and well." 186 EGBERT EMMET. " Alive and well/' he repeated ; " and I owe both to you. Permit me to offer to you, in this city, such small services as are within my power." " I know not/' I replied, " how you can serve me. I have some friends here. I have many friends in Ireland, and I long for an opportunity to communicate with them." '' I am delighted/' he said quickly, " to afford you that opportunity. I am here in the suite of Lord Cornwallis, who has come over to negotiate a peace with the First Consul." "I am glad of it, sir," I observed, "for many reasons; certainly for the benefits which peace would confer upon me/' and, after a pause, I added, " I don't know if that would be of any use to me." " Why not ?" he asked. "You are aware," I replied, *'that I was a rebel. I am proscribed. A price has been set upon my head, and of course I dare not return to Ireland." " Does the price/' he inquired, "" refer to any- thing more flagrant than your conduct at New Boss?" " Nothing more/' I answered. " Then, sir," he said, " I flatter myself that I can render you a service — one which it seems you would consider very important. I am no longer in the army. I am, without boasting, in a position EGBERT EMMET. 18T that I will undertake to procure you a free pardon." " I dare not," I replied, " doubt your word ; but, as we say in Ireland, news is doubtful wbich seems to be too good to be true." "Trust me." I am at loose now, as his lord- ship has gone out of town. Will you dine with me at the Gaf4 de Buonaparte ; but perhaps you would prefer that I should go with you to your chambers ? " " The hotel," I replied, smiling, " is better fur- nished than my apartments." " Then," he said, " at four o'clock inquire for Sir George ." The whole thing was such a surprise — the conversation was so abrupt and so short, that, without hesitating to doubt what I had heard, I was not, I confess, quite assured. At' the appointed time, however, I was at the hotel, where I enjoyed a delightful dinner with my new friend, and had great pleasure in answering all his inquiries as to my interviews with Napoleon and my mode of living in Paris. When I was about to retire, he approached me, saying, " don't be offeuded — you are not rich — I am ; and there- fore permit me to be your banker while you stay in Paris." I . was full of gratitude, but I declined the offer, assuring Sir George that I was not without 188 ROBERT EMMET. sufficient funds, and that the moment I could communicate with my father I should be placed beyond the neccessity of being his debtor." " Very well," he said. " In a few days I am to be sent with despatches to the 'Home Office. Will you accompany me ? " You forget," I replied, " that I am a proscribed rebel." "Pooh, pooh;" he said, "come with me — I will soon make that right," He took my hand and pressed it warmly, and I responded with equal warmth. In three days we were in Pall-mall. " The Home Office," he said, " is not far from here, and I intend taking you there." I stopped suddenly, and a thought shot across my mind. It was a horrible one. I was in the presence of a stranger, and he might betray me ? Such thoughts as these presented themselves before me; but my new friend, on seeing the emotion under which I was labouring, told me not to fear, and said, " I have profited by your kindness, and you shall now profit by mine." In about two minutes afterwards we reached the Home Office, where I soon discovered that I had no difficulty in obtaining a fi:ee pardon. We dined together in the evening at the hotel, and the next morning he bade me farewell. I had, like ROBERT EMMET. 189 other young men, indulged in a strong desire to see the British metropolis. I was now in it. The city was before me where to choose. A letter from my father containing what I confessed was very agreeable — an adequate remittance — deter- mined me to prolong my stay. I visited all the sights — I saw all the lions ; but what delighted me most, I confess, were the public libraries, to all of which, without difficulty, I obtained adTaission. Sight and curiosity having been to some extent satiated, I resolved, in the course of a year, to return home, and here I am. You know the remainder, and I beg you will not suppose for a moment that I have been making more of events than the events themselves warranted. I am no hero, I performed no wonders; I passed through many dangers and difficulties, and I have acquired, I hope, some wisdom. I have told you a brief tale of adventures, not one of which was voluntary; and if I am not a wiser and a better man, I am now a happy man, breathing the air of my native land, and once more enjoying the society of those I love. 190 ROBERT EMMET. CHAPTER XVII. A VISIT TO A SHIBBEEN HOUSE.— A RESCUBJ. The same advice has very different effects when given by different people. Had Emmet endea- voured to dissuade me from engaging in his wild scheme, I should not perhaps have had any hesita- tion in complying with his counsel ; but when Malachy recommended me to have nothing to do with insurrections, I spurned his advice, because I thought it given from a sinister motive, for some recent events had sunk my cousin considerably in my estimation. He evinced, however, his usual kindness ; and, an evening or two after, it being a holiday, inquired if I would not wish to witness a convivial meeting of the peasantry at one of their shibbeens. I replied in the affirmative ; and accordingly we set off together. The night had closed around us as we entered a rude cabin situated ROBERT EMMET. 191 on the mountain side. The wig-wam consisted of a single apartment, which was filled with boisterous mountaineers, and their wives and children, drinking beer out of a variety of vessels, such as wooden noggins, earthen pitchers, &;c., and one humorous-looking fellow now and then raised to his head a metal skillet, which contained what he called " mountain dew." This promiscuous com- pany arose at our entrance, and a hundred vessels were extended towards Malachy, all present requesting the honour of drinking with him. With the address of a man accustomed to such a scene, he took one cup, and, having touched all their measures, he bowed, and raised it to his head ; after which the piper in the corner struck up an Irish air, which I understood was in praise of my uncle's ancestors . The best seat in the house was appropriated to our use, and our " mountain dew " was brought to us in a clean white jug. I have seldom looked — let the moralist and divine say what they may — upon a more interesting scene than the happy group presented. Here were the cheerful sons of toil, unbending themselves over a wholesome and nutritious beverage, which was shared with those who made labour light and home delightful ; the " loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind " showed the absence of intrusive care ; while the ready 192 ROBEBT EMMET. song and homely anecdote evinced an ■annanimons desire of contributing to the general fund of pleasure. Our peasantry want that buoyancy of spirit, drollery, and piquant humour of the Irish, to give character to such a scene. Beside, they are deficient in those social habits which so frequently bring together the thoughtless sons of the Emerald Isle, who know no selfish happiness, being, on all joyous occasions, found congregated together. Having laughed for an hour at the fun and humour of the assembly before us, I proposed to Malachy to retire ; but he looked carefully at his watch, and said it was yet time enough. " You have not," he added, "heard an Irish song. The bag-pipes have apparently delighted you, but I don't know whether you would understand an Irish song. I see here, however, a celebrated vocalist, and I will ask him if he will sing an English song for you. Jemmy O'Earrall," said Malachy to the vocalist, " will you sing an English song for my friend ?" 'Taith and sure I will," he replied, and he instantly began the well-known rebel song of the day :— " I had a tyrant landlord base, Who saw my heart to Erin yearned ; Ev'n with the ground my cot did rase, And fired my substance dearly earned. KOBERT EMMET. 193 Unmoved, remorseless, now he sees My cottage falling, as it burns ; My wife for mercy on ber knees; From her with ruthless frown he turns." And he added, amidst groans and noises — " Hell or Connaught ! die thou papist — Drench this orange in thy gore ; For though a Christian voice thou apest. Think of mercy now no more !" While the vocalist was proceeding, Malachy went out, and in less than three minutes there was a cry of, "Yeomanry !" A friendly hand pulled me into the chimney corner, from which I could, with the utmost security, observe all that passed. The women and children screamed vehemently, but the men seemed but little alarmed ; and, as if accustomed to such events, they proceeded, with as much dehberation as circumstances would admit, to arm themselves with forms, pots, pitchers, and every other move- able article in the house. In an instant a party of the yeomen rushed in, with fixed bayonets, and were received with a discharge of stools and other missiles. The confusion soon became general, and apparently a desperate engagement took place. The peasants systematically supported each other, and soon proved superior to their assailants. The yeomen were overpowered ; and every individual, except my unknown preserver and myself, escaped. n 194 EGBERT EMMET. "Your name, sir?" demanded one of the yeo- manry, coming up to me, and dragging me out of the corner. " Herbert," I replied. " You are the man we want," he rejoined, calling in the sergeant, who immediately made me prisoner. My unknown friend was also taken into custody; and, though we frequently demanded the cause of our detention, we received no reply but the very unsatisfactory one, that we should know time enough. A cord was now produced, and the left hand of my fellow-prisoner was tied to my right ; and, in that situation, we were marched off in the midst of the party, who signified their triumph by a loud " Huzza !" In vain I protested against such unworthy treatment ; and when I threatened to bring the matter before a tribunal of the country I was answered only by a sneer. Perceiving that all remonstrance was useless, I complied with the advice of my companion, and continued silent for the remainder of the journey. As we proceeded I had leisure to reflect upon my situation ; but not knowing either the charge against me or the place to which I was going, all conjectures respecting the issue of the affair were unsatisfactory. Once, and but once, it crossed my mind that Malachy's conduct appeared strange ; and it was barely possible that he might KOBERT EMMET. 195 have been the cause of my apprehension ; a suppo- sition "which his going out at so critical a time seemed to strengthen. But that might have been merely accidental ; and, as I knew of no possible good which he could derive from my distress, I dis- missed the unworthy suspicion from my mind, and attributed the whole to some unfortunate mistake. Having continued in a smart walk for about half -an hour, we entered a large gateway, and were proceeding along an avenue shaded with lofty trees, when a tremendous yell, as if from a horde of North American savages, assailed our ears. " It is Dwyre !" exclaimed a yeoman ; and, as if panic-struck, they betook themselves to flight. " I knew that," said my companion, quite coolly ; but, before I could inquire his meaning, I was seized by a dozen mountaineers, and borne on their shoulders to the top of a neighbouring mountain. In a moment I was surrounded by a hundred of the -fierce peasantry ; and a person, apparently of consequence, pushed through the dense circle of my deliverers, and seized my hand : it was Malachy. At such a moment the presence of a friend was most grateful ; and, though I could not approve of the unadvised conduct of those around me, yet, as the action must have sprung from some mistaken 196 ROBERT EMMET. sympathy, I could not withhold my gratitude. Malachy's embrace I warmly returned ; and, without entering into any explanation, we pro- ceeded across the hills. " The moon unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the mountains her sUvery mantle threw." The distant falling waters and the barking of several dogs disturbed the otherwise monotonous stillness of the night. The mountain breeze, with its refreshing influence, stimulated our progress, and as we approached the Castle I began to feel rather surprised at what Malachy had done, and I enquired of him what was the matter. "You are," he replied, "somewhat astonished. Well, I will relieve you now by telling you the whole truth. I wanted to show you a bit of Irish drama unprovised. The whole scene that you witnessed was not a baseless fabric, but was one got up by me — first, to amuse you, but I am afraid it did not ; second, to show you in what command I have the people around these districts." " I was indeed surprised," I said, " but having turned all the iucidents of the last day or two over, I readily admit that the whole thing was got up for my edification." Malachy rose in my esteem ; still ever and anon doubt obtruded, and I expressed my regret that one of the party knew my name. ROBERT EMMET. 197 " No harm in that," said Malachy, " but if you are at all alarmed, you had better go to Dublin or perhaps return home." " Conscience makes cowards of us aU !" I had as yet sinned only in thought, but even that deterred me from acting openly. I took Malachy's advice. 198 ROBERT EMMET. CHAPTEE XVIII. A REBEL DEPOT. Next morniiig I proceeded to Dublin. I did not meet my friend Emmet until about eight o'clock in the evening. At that hour he was on his way to one of his depots, and I accompanied him. In a back house, recommended by its secluded and uninviting situation, were about a dozen men at work ; some busy making cartridges, while others were casting bullets; some fabricating rockets, and others making pikes. The heaps of muskets and other warlike weapons scattered around served to inspire a feeling of awe in the gloomy mansion of incipient treason, singularly contrasting with the thoughtless levity depicted upon the half-intoxicated countenances of those engaged in preparing the instruments of death. My friend, on seeing all safe, could not conceal ROBERT EMMET. 199 his satisfaction ; and, having distributed some money amongst the men, he dismissed them. As they withdrew he bolted the door, and, throwing himself upon a rude seat, seemed lost in the intensity of his feelings. I was not less serious ; for the workmen, the arms, and the gloom of the place, had deeply affected my spirits, and brought upon my mind a desponding impression, not unmixed with sensations of fear. "My friend," said Emmet, after a silence of several minutes, " how ungrateful are mankind ! how thoughtless are nations ! The philosopher is neglected, and the patriot unhonoured; yet, without knowledge and liberty, how valueless are all the possessions of man ! How little do those who profit by wisdom, or glory in the possession of freedom, know of the student's privations or the conspirator's danger! and, without study and treason, how few could be either wise or free ? Nations exult in the enjoyment of their rights, but too often forget those to whom they are indebted for the blessing. Englishmen continually boast of their liberty, yet to how many Britons are the names of Sydney and Hampden as vague as those of William Tell and Junius Brutus ! The sound is familiar, but it scarcely raises a single association." "The hope of applause," I replied, "though it :2O0 ROBERT EMMET. may stimulate our exertions, should never be allowed to direct our actions ; and he that is honoured by the discerning may readily dispense with the plaudits of the vulgar." " True/' he returned ; " but those who benefit mankind may at least expect gratitude ; and, if the danger encountered by the patriot may be allowed to enhance the debt, I know of none who has so large a demand as the conspirator, whose object is universal good. After once he imparts his schemes to others, he lives in continual apprehension ; every stranger is an object of sus- picion; every incident is pregnant with danger. The mistakes of his friends may ruin him, and a concealed enemy may lurk amongst his associates ; for, as his designs require numerous abettors, it is very difficidt to select many men without inckiding some traitor ; and one informer is sufficient to blast all his hopes — as a single spark will cause the explosion of the largest powder magazine. I have latterly felt so acutely the uncertainty of my situation, that I am determined to hasten the event of our plan ; for any conclusion would be preferable to protracted suspense.'* "I know not," I said, "whether it is desirable to persist in your scheme ; for the reasoning of our friend, the traveller, never appeared to me so rational as since I entered this depot of rebellion. ROBERT EMMET. 201 A thousand thoughts start up in my mind, which I can neither allay nor satisfactorily account for. These scattered instruments of destruction proclaim that, in the event of an insurrection, numbers must die ; but how many are to taste the bitterness of death defies human calculation. Ourselves, too, may be among the fallen ; and, what is more, our cause may be unsuccessful." " All these," interrupted Emmet, " depend upon events and circumstances, about which we can know nothing positive; 'tis for us only to ascertain the probability of success, and to persevere in the course which honour and duty point out. Enough for us to know that Ireland requires the standard of revolt to be raised by some one ; and that neither defeat nor triumph can add to nor diminish our con- sciousness of rectitude. Impediments may crowd the long perspective before us ; but beyond these are glory, honours, and immortality — rewards for obtaining which no sacrifice is too great — no ^enterprise too dangerous. Let not," he continued, " m.y apprehensions, too carelessly expressed, damp the ardour of your soul ; for the reasons which first induced you to embark in this best of causes are the same now as then, whatever arguments you may have heard to the contrary. We are young and unencumbered ; defeat can neither distress our friends nor ruin ourselves ; for what have we 202 ROBERT EMMET. to lose but life ? and life is held by so Tincertain a tenure, that a thousand daily accidents may deprive us of it ; and that too so suddenly and so soon as to leave our memory without any accom- panying deed to keep it afloat on the stream of time. Admitting for an instant that we shall (which Heaven forbid !) be unsuccessful, think not that our endeavours will be forgotten, or that our country will cease to remember us. JSTo, my friend, the tyrant laws may condemn us, and tyrant authority asperse and vilify our characters ; but rely on it that Irishmen shall reverence the names of Herbert and Emmet while patriotism has admirers, or Ireland a friend. Our country has never been ungrateful ; and so few have been her benefactors, that she is prodigal of thanks for even dubious favours. Of us she can have but one opinion; for ingenious enmity cannot attribute any but laudable motives to our designs. For Ireland I wiU spend my private fortune ; and for Ireland I shall, please G-od, venture my life, Kosciusko is a name as beloved in Poland as that of Washington in America. But reverse this gloomy picture," he proceeded, "and look — as humanity should ever look — upon the bright side of things ; for defeat does not always terminate daring enterprises. Eeflect upon the consequences of success ; our enemies vanquished, our arms ROBERT EMMET. 203 triumphant, and Ireland free ! Our names associ- ated with the liberators of nations, and ourselves overwhelmed with the grateful benedictions of an emancipated people ! Our youth will increase the general wonder ; and the means by which we shall achieve such illustrious actions will augment the pleasing amazement. Add to this the exalted stations we shall occupy, and the joyful approba- tion of our own bosoms ; and tell me, is not our present situation, taking all things into account, one that might well, be envied ? Defeat cannot deprive us of honour, nor death of glory ; while success, if obtained, has in store for us all those rewards which ever graced the most fortunate of mankind. 'Opportunities for great actions,' says the moralist, ' occur but seldom ;' and surely he ill deserves honour who lets the opportunity pass when- it presents itself. G-lory has found us, and let us embrace her ; the tide of our affairs is at the flood, and let us embark upon the waves of fortune. We are well attended, and Heaven seems propitious. A thousand years may pass, and a more favourable moment may not again occur. What ! still thoughtful! Oh, I see Miss Lambert has whispered something into your ear which has operated unfavourably upon your mind. Well, I can excuse you; for a being of such perfect loveliness might weU disturb a hermit's prayer 204 ROBERT EMMET. thoTigli I will not allow her to divert a patriot's purpose." " Then/' said I, "you will not pardon love in a conspirator." " I can not only pardon it," he replied, " but sincerely trust that the tender passion may be always blended with the amour patrice; for he that anticipates the commendation of a beloved mistress can never act dishonourably. My friend," he continued, rising, and taking me by the hand, " I, too, have one, whose praise I wish to merit, and whose exaltation, next to my country, is the first wish of my heart. She is kind, she is lovely, and Heaven only knows how good !" — "And yet," I interrupted, "you will fling away this jewel, without having the untutored Indian's apology, for you know its value." " I know its value," he rejoined, " and, because I know it, I wish to place it where its worth may be appreciated. The stagnant vale of inglorious ease is for those domestic enamoured souls who are content to pass a life of inactive worthlessness, and who wish to enjoy affection without having merited love. Mine is a higher ambition; I must make myself worthy of the woman of my choice ; and the glory which sheds its lustre on the hus- band shall reflect its splendour on the wife. Heaven forbid that an excusable passion should ROBERT EMMET. 205 thwart the great design of my life, or cause me, for an instant, to neglect my country's good for the purpose of promoting my own personal ad- vantage. What earthly possession could equal the glory of having freed Ireland from foreign domina- tion? and, though failure might partially obstruct its rays, we never can be deprived of the con- sciousness of having deserved it." I was unable to make any opposition to his argument. After a pause Emmet said to me, "Mr. Her- bert, you can greatly oblige me." " I would be delighted to do so." " I want you to take a letter to Miss Lambert, and as you are in my perfect confidence I beg to say that it contains another letter addressed to Miss Curran.'* Here his emotion overcame him for a moment. On recovering he added, " Miss Curran is the one to whom I am devoted." " I know the lady,^' I said. " I first saw her when I had the pleasure of first seeing you, and I also spent a day with her in company with Miss Lambert and other ladies. Miss Lambert, of course," I added, "is her friend." " O yes," he replied. They were both educated in the same seminary. They are equally clever, and equally good." 206 KOBERT EMMET. "Miss Lambeit, then," I interposed, "is ac- quainted with the intimacy between you and Miss Curran/' " Entirely," he replied. "Not to quote Othello offensively, she has been our ' go-between.' " Emmet then stood up, and went to a rude table in the corner of the room, where he wrote his letters and enclosed them to Miss Lambert, and I undertook to deliver them in a couple of hours. EGBERT EMMET. 207 CHAPTER XIX. A REMONSTEANCE On my arrival at Mr. Lambert's the first person I met was the traveller. " You look serious," he observed. " I am," I replied, " very serious." " Walk this way," he said. We then moved down the lawn. " Is there something the matter with Emmet ?" he asked. " A great deal, I fear," I replied. " Is there a rising contemplated ? " he inquired. " Unquestionably," I answered. " Good God I" he said, " that must not be. Where is he f ' " I have no doubt," I replied, "by this time he is at his private lodgings." 208 ROBERT EMMET. " Then I must see him. Have you dismissed the car that brought you here ?" " Yes," I answered. He then let go my arm and proceeded up to the house, where he gave instructions to his man to at once prepare a car. In a few minutes a jaunting car was in readiness at the door. I then gave Miss Lambert's letter to her maid, and we mounted the car and drove off. As we approached the Priory, Mr. Lambert told the driver to stop at the gate, and on his arrival there we got out, when he gave him further directions to drive along Stephen's G-reen and to come back to that place again in about an hour. We then walked on to Emmet's lodgings, and, as the evening was still early, we found him up and alone. On our entering he looked at me anxiously, and inquired if there was anything wrong. I said — '■ " Xothing. Mr. Lambert has requested me to accompany him here, but for what purpose I am utterly ignorant. He did not tell me what his business was, and during our journey he has been silent." Emmet then looked very anxiously on the traveller. The look being interrogative, the traveller said — *' I am here, Mr. Emmet, uninvited, and I am come to give advice unasked." Jj^l ROBERT EMMET. 209 " Your advice, Mr. Lambert," said Emmet, "will be always acceptable because it is always profound and just." " My advice will now be profound and j ust/ » replied Mr. Lambert, " because I speak from an impression that gives me great anxiety, and which concerns you most seriously." " Speak, sir." " I have just learned," continued Mr. Lambert, "from my young friend, before starting this evening t3J that there is danger abroad." " I did not know," said Emmet, with a look at me, "that he conveyed anything serious to you." " What I said," I replied, " arose out of the conviction that Mr. Lambert was in our secret." " I have not," Mr. Lambert added, " been recently in anybody's secret ; but I inferred from what you told me that a great political movement is in contemplation." " There is no disguising the fact," observed Emmet, "that an insurrection is intended." " Upon that point I am here to speak; and, asl am full of thought, you must excuse me if I am impulsive in my words, for I am regardless of everything but what is necessary for the convey- ance of my convictions." " I am bound to be grateful to you ," said Emmet, " and will be very attentive." " I am an older man than you," continued Mr. o 210 KOBERT EMMET. Lambert, " and have had more experience. I have been engaged in rebellion, and I consider myself qualified to give advice, and as a friend I ask you especially if you love Ireland — " " Love Ireland !" exclaimed Emmet. " If you love your friends, and if you love yourself, avoid everything having the shape or substance of a revolt." " You don't understand our plans," said Emmet. " They are complete, sir. They are formidable, and they will be successful." " If successful/' remarked Mr. Lambert, " they will justify the proceeding; but if not successful they will be chargeable with an amount of crime never to be effaced from the minds of those who commenced them. Eebellion is merely a local riot. An insurrection is a prelude to a great national change." " You had better understand our arrangements," said Emmet. " You are now in our confidence, — and we have the most perfect confidence in you." "You do me only justice," was Mr. Lambert's reply. " The North and the South," continued Emmet, " are ready for a national movement. Our com- missariat is not large, but we calculate on its efficiency. "We are quite certain of a thousand men from Wexford, two thousand from Wicklow, ROBERT EMMET. 211 m a thousand from KUdare, six thousand from the Queen's County and the two Meaths, and iive thousand men ready in the City of Dublin. From the North there will, to-morrow, pour in upon us half-a-million of men !" " Very formidable," said Mr. Lambert, " but are their promises reliable?" " Perfectly so." " Dublin is full of soldiers," said Mr. Lambert. " We are guarded against the movements of the military. The bridges will be rendered impassable. The Castle will be first seized, and the Govern- ment will be paralysed. We will possess the arms; and, in addition to this, we are quite certain that the Catholics in the barracks will join us to a man." , "Excuse me," interrupted Mr. Lambert,'' if I am still incredulous. I am incredulous on every point. I am sure you will expect me to speak plainly and with freedom." " Certainly." "Then, sir, your expectation of the peasantry coming in from the various counties is — don't be offended — a terrible delusion. They will not come, sir." " Do you speak with authority ?" inquired Emmet, somewhat" peevishly. " I know by my experience and by my presence 212 BOBERT EMMET. among them," said Mr. Lambert, " that they will not come. In 1798, when we marched with Father Koach to Gough's Bridge, and drove before us the military who met ns there, we were promised the aid of six thousand pikemen, three thousand musket men, and twelve pieces of artillery. We calculated confidently on them, for the people of Wexford and the people of Wicklow were, we concluded, reliable men. I^hey were not wild visionaries, for they were not accustomed to agrarian outrages. - They were honest and steady Catholics, lovers of Ireland, strong, enduring, and, as we thought — reliable men." " So they were," said Emmet. " In the majority the fact proved otherwise. As we approached Gough's Bridge, from Wexford^ we saw that there was a great crowd there, but in the small encounter at the bridge two-thirds of our followers disappeared. As we approached New Ross the many thousands expected were reduced to four or five hundred. They certainly were resolute men ; but they were not resolved men. The maj ority of them got drunk, and through the forbearance of General Moore a great many were saved from destruction. The loss of life was small, and small a-s our numbers were we escaped, as I stated the other evening, through the strategy of Father Eoach. I am therefore warranted in doubting your , ROBERT EMMET. 213 calculation, and I am as firm in that doubt as I am in the assurance of my own existence." "Well, supposing they don't come from Wex- ford," said Emmet, " they will come from Ulster. Captain Eussell has already assured himself of the aid of four thousand men." " They will vanish," said Mr. Lambert, "as the Wexford men did at the battle of Eoss. Don't be offended if I speak from the full impression of my mind. You will not suppose for a moment that I intend any offence to your understanding ; but, as a man who is engaged in a perilous enterprise, I implore you to weigh all the chances, and you must also in weighing all the chances admit the usua' axiom ' that the worst fears are the true ones.' " " I hear you not with pleasure, certainly, but with great anxiety," said Emmet. " Then," proceeded Mr. Lambert, " your reliance on the army is perfectly futile. The army at the time of the late rebellion was full of ' croppies,' as the rebels were called ; but not one of them ever quitted the ranks." " Had the rebellion been general," said Emmet, "they would not have refused to join the rebels." " Discipline," continued Mr. Lambert, " is for- midable in the absence of retreat. Soldiers who refuse obedience become rebels, but only in great national movements is this true. In your case the 214 ROBERT EMMET. trumpet in barrack will sound, the military will 'fall in/ and, no matter how you guard the bridges, the military will pour in upon you and prevent the Castle from being taken, or, if taken, recover it — and you are lost." " In one thing, at all events," said Emmet, " I am quite certain you are mistaken. The Wicklow men will join us, and we expect many of them in town to-morrow. Dwyre has given me assurance to that extent." " You must not rely on Dwyre," said Lambert — " not that he intends to deceive you, but he is unreliable because he deceives himself. I have been at home some time, and rambled over the hills and fields endeared by a youthful memory, and I found no preparations for rebellion, nor the sound of it. The good . housewives discover a warning from the beehive in the insect rebellion ; but no such warning is heard on Wicklow hills." Emmet, drawing himself up, looked as if he was surprised by the argument, and said, " In your view, then, Mr. Lambert, an insurrection is an impossibility." " That is not my view, Mr. Emmet," said Mr. Lambert. "Not at all. An insurrection is a reality when a whole people wills it, and when the free air of the country is full of treason ; when every man glows with patriotic ardour — or what, perhaps, is BOBERT EMMET. 215 more formidable, hatred of oppressors. Then an insurrection is inevitable. It takes place like a change in the weather. Despotism flies from its strongholds and gathers round it as large an army as it can command; but it is found when too late that disaffection has destroyed the loyalty of the troops, and when the troops are adverse a revolution is inevitable. All this is now impossible." " Without the troops," said Emmet, " people have accomplished revolutions." " Never," was the emphatic response of Mr. Lambert. "Never has an insurrection been effected but by troops or by armed men cohering together like troops. Armed peasants are formidable only when there is no opposition; but when opposed by troops they are as uncertain in their movements as the swallows are in their flight. Peasants with pikes are certainly not harmless, but they are not formidable in the presence of drilled soldiers, and platoon firing is not like the firing at Oulard. Under the very best circumstances recruits are unreliable before they are baptised with fire, and the discharge of a roll of musketry from a thousand men is a thing to afiright the heart of the bravest. When I saw this at the battle of the Pyramids I at once arrived at the conclusion that it requires drilled men — men long in the field — to stand it; and, in 216 ROBERT EMMETs point of fact, I discovered that even such men as these do not stand it very long without retiring^ afterwards to be brought np again. If yon look at the history of rebellions you will find this to be especially the case. In former wars, before the invention of gunpowder, the men were armed after a fashion ; but drill gave advantage where discipline had been recognised. The Gauls in Caesar's wars, you will recollect, carried long swords, and required space on either side to use them. The space required thinned their ranks, while the army with their dagger-like swords kept close together, and struck out from the arm as pugilists do, and had very little difficulty in beating the men with the long swords. Coming to the medieval time, it is exactly the same, though in a different Vay. The feudal system gave to the Crown a standing army as long as the Crown was respected.- That standing army swept revolting persons from the field as fire would stubble. That standing army opposed the Crown when the Crown was not in conformity with public opinion; and in our day we all know that the French Revolution wa& eflfected by men with arms in their hands — by men trained in military schools, and not by the sans culottes of Paris and the boisterous, cowardly pea- sants. If you gather your army together — if the numbers you calculate on be aU there — their ROBERT EMMET. 217 very density will be your ruin, for, as a Gothic General said, ' The thicker the grass the easier it is mowed.' They would not stand two discharges from the musketry before they would disperse like an alarmed colony of sheep." " Well, Mr. Lambert," said Emmet, " that i& your opinion. My opinion is quite different, and I am quite certain that the promises made to me will be kept. The Protestants of Ulster, who showed such patriotism five years ago, will evince the same patriotism now; and the Catholic priests throughout the whole of the South, and even from the North, will certainly bring the people to our aid." "For God's sake!" said Mr. Lambert, "do not depend upon them, for the priests will not do anything of the kind. A few enthusiastic curates may ; but a priest by his education and ordination is a man imbued with peace ; and, what is more, he is bound by his church not to resist authority, — while authority in point of fact is irresistible." " When it ceases to be irresistible," said Emmet,. " then the priests may act ?" " Unquestionably. But that takes a long time to effect. Where," he asked, " is your commis- sariat ?" " The fields are full of cattle," replied Emmet,. " and the farm-house barns are still full of grain 218 ROBERT EMMET. flour. We cannot want for food. We can kill the cattle and the sheep, and pay for them." "Canyon?" " We shall give them our notes of hand K we are successful they shall be paid, and if not suc- cessful the motive and principle on which we act will excuse the debt. But we shall be successful. Temporary defeat will drive us to the hills and the bogs, and these will be our strongholds. The dykes and ditches will be our defences, and from these places of safety we can destroy the enemy." " You lie under a military mistake, Mr. Emmet,' said Mr. Lambert. " The defences which you select for yourselves w^ill be selected by the military, and the presence of a rebel force on the hills or in the bogs will point out their position to the artillery-men, and a discharge or two from a dozen guns will denude the hills and bogs of your peasant forces. The battle of Vinegar Hill illus- trates the fact. And now, Mr Emmet, in vulgar phraseology, I have 'said my say.' I have been actuated by motives" " Which I do not question," interrupted Emmet. " Which I am sure you do not," continued Mr. Lambert. ' But under certain circumstances a man can immediately recall the stories and events in which he lived, and in cases of peril when well- ROBERT EMMET. 219 considered, will supply facts and arguments which should be properly appreciated. You are generous. You are noble-minded. You are highly gil'ted, — ■ and your patriotism admits of no doubt ; but you are under an obligation to humanity, to your friends, to your partisans, and to yourself; and let me add that the question of humanity should be deeply meditated upon, for the habits of the Irish wolf-dogs illustrate the habits of the Irish peasants. They are gentle when caressed, but they are terrible when provoked — though not so terrible as the Beresfords andSirrs of former years. The peasantry of the county of Wexford have been always remarkable for their quiet habits, their kindly nature, and great industry. For centuries they gave no criminal to the gallows, and the county jail was never filled with felons. They love their neighbours. They love their priests. They love their religion, and they love themselves. And just remark what they did when they were provoked into the last rebellion. They erected the ' mock gallows.' They strangled men in the absence of resistance. They butchered Protestants on Vinegar Hill, and threw them headlong into trenches dug for them, but out of these trenches fortunately many of the wounded men escaped and recovered. At Wexford they butchered persons whose only crime was that they did not worship at the same 220 EGBERT EMMET. altar with themselves, and at Sculaboug the same atrocities were likewise enacted. Who could forget these facts, which are recorded against a people, and which are also recorded and condemned by Hayes, the Roman Catholic historian, who is now respected by both parties ? The peasantry in all countries have ever been kind and genial ; but during political excitement, religious frenzy, or religious prejudice, they have done deeds which make angels weep; and it therefore places increased respon- sibility on the man who will place foolish peasants in a position which would make them forget their very nature.'^ '' We shall guard against all this," said Emmet. '' Still, believe me, I appreciate correctly the good intentions that brought you here, and I will pause before I act ; but then, Mr. Lambert, I am pledged to others, and if I refuse to act upon that pledge I will be branded as a coward, a villain, and a traitor. Rebellion, I know, is often wrongly named revo- lution ; but there can be no revolution without the prelude of rebellion. I believe I have gauged the opinion of my countrymen correctly, and have gauged my own, and I will risk my life, and what I have considered dearer than life, in the attempt I have intended to make, and which at the present moment I am still inclined to make." "Amen," said Mr. Lambert. "And now, Mi\ Herbert, let us retire to our homes." ROBERT EMMET. 221 " I have, Mr. Lambert," I said, " been deeply affected by your arguments, which I think are unanswerable ; but, young as I am in this matter, I have placed my life upon the cast, and will stand the hazard of the die." "Oh," said Emmet, "don't think of that. Think, my young friend, of yourself Live," he continued, smiling, "to write my history and shew the motives which induced me to face the dangers to which I deliberately exposed myself" " I did not come here," observed Mr. Lambert addressing Emmet, "to deprive you of a single supporter, and 1 would not for the world persuade one to abandon you in your emergency. You are so generous, so candid, and — let me add — so wise, for you have already just given to your young friend good advice. So good night to both." Mr. Lambert left us, and Emmet and I sat silent for fully half-an-hour. At length Emmet stood up and said, " I am weary of thinking, and you are weary of divining my thoughts, and so good night.'* 222 ROBEUT EMMET. CHAPTER XX. PREPAEATIONS FOE EEBELLION. THE REVOLT. THE DISCOMFITURE. EouE or five days subsequent to this I was in the constant habit of meeting my friend Emmet arid his associates. With the exception of Captain Russell, these were not remarkable either for rank or talents ; but most of them appeared uncom- monly zealous in the cause ; and such of them as were delegates from the distant provinces drew the most encouraging picture of general preparation. They represented the peasantry as everywhere ripe for revolt, and named several persons of consequence who only waited for an opportunity of declaring for a republican form of government. Emmet seemed confident of success ; and, in the anticipation of triumph, we spent several nights discussing the best method of securing indepen- dence after the overthrow of the Government. Our ROBERT EMMET. 223 plan of operation being now before the public, it is quite unnecessary to state it here. It must be admitted that in drawing it up Emmet displayed considerable military skill. On the night of the 22nd July we assembled at the depot ; and, though everything wore a gloomy aspect, we resolved to persevere. The different leaders received their instructions : — some were to assemble their forces on the Barley Fields, on the Canal ; some on the Coal Quay ; and others in different parts of the city. They were to act only in case of seeing a third rocket, which Emmet was to send up when he considered the time arrived for the commencement of hostilities. Emmet, Malachy, Bryan, and I, were to head the forces which were to attack the Castle. Everything being thus arranged, I bade my companions farewell for the night, and returned to my lodgings. I could sleep but little; and, when I awoke the next morning, the consciousness of being on the eve of a great event tilled my mind with gloomy apprehensions. To reflect, however, was now useless ; and, without giving my thoughts time to inform against m.j purpose, I hurried to the depot, where I found all in confusion The place was thronged with insurgents who had arrived from the country, and whose presence served to obstruct the workmen. Malachy and 224 ROBERT EMMET. Emmet, with astonishing firmness, gave directions • and I was handed the printed proclamation to read. As I looked upon the countenances of the desperate and infatuated men around me, I could not resist the gloomy prescience which the scene was calculated to impart. It was a moment which, of course, I would not wish to go through again ; there was so much of foreboding evil — so much of personal misfortune to apprehend—and so much toil and peril which must be endured, whether the rebel- lion triumphed or was crushed. My imagination, like a prism, collected all the rays of evil from pro- bable discomfiture, and showed me, in aggravated horror, all the dangers I had to encounter. However, to recede was now impossible, without incurring the imputation of cowardice ; or, what was more intolerable, the suspicion of my associates. Actual hostility was preferable to either of these ; and, making a virtue of a necessity, I recalled the memory of those conspirators who had been successful, and fortified my resolution by antici- pating the same fortune, though everything around might have taught a rational man the extravagant folly of hoping to subvert a powerful government with a few hundred men, partially armed, and half drunk. These, it is true, we thought had only to raise the standard of rebellion and thousands ROBERT EMMET. 225 would be ready to support it ; but, in future, who will rely upon the promises of conspirators ? About six o'clock, Emmet, Malachy, Bryan, and one or two others, put on their green uniforms, trimmed with gold lace, and selected their arms. " I beg to appoint you, Mr. Herbert," vsaid Emmet, addressing me, "to an important task, now of extreme urgency. The men from the counties Wicklow and Wexford are by this time assembled in Kavin Street and the streets adjoining. You must go there, and you will see Howlan, the Oulard boy, standing opposite an hotel. Tell him to collect the men — get them ready and march direct in a body as quickly as possible to Thomas Street after he sees the third rocket fired. You are an Englishman, a stranger, and not likely to be recognized." I obeyed my instructions, and had no difficulty in finding Howlan opposite the hotel. On my delivering to him my message he exclaimed : — " Tatteration, the boys have not come. The blackguards have disappointed us, but a few are here, and I will collect them. You had. better," he continued, "run back as quickly as possible, and tell Mr. Emmet to postpone the rising." I lost not a moment in finding my way into Francis Street; but I had scarcely done so when the first, second, and third rocket exploded in the p 226 ROBERT EMMET. air. "The hour has come," I thought to myself; and I ran as fast as I could in order to render all the aid in my power to my friends. I saw a great crowd running up the street towards me; and, as I kept running on, my arm was seized by the grasp of a small hand. The hand was that of Miss Lambert. " Come in," she said, standing aside ; " come in here, there is a terrible riot in Thomas Street." "A rebellion," I said. " I fear it is," she remarked, " but the day is already lost. My imcle, the owner of this estab- lishment, has just come in, and told us that the rebels have killed a judge, and that they have been fired on by the galloping cavalry, and all is now dismay." I was impatiently moving to go, but she said: — " You must not go, sir. It is no use now." She took me by the arm, and while she held it fast a voice whispered in my ear: — " Fly ; Emmet is killed. The day is lost." The voice was that of Malachy, but I had no time to recognize his features, for he ran forward with the crowd. The shopmen were all this time busy putting up the shutters, and there being a positive necessity for closing the door we had to withdraw to an inner room. Times for great sensations are precisely the EGBERT EMMET, 227 times when no sensations take place. Miss Lambert was pale but calm. She spoke not. My feelings were too big for tears. The clamour and cries of the crowd, the reports of musketry,, and the trampling of galloping horses, left no doubt that a terrible affair had taken place. Fortunately, however, it was of brief duration. Eebellion there was none. There was hardly a respectable Irish riot, and by twelve o'clock the city appeared perfectly silent. The master of the house, an old friend of my father's, recommended us to remain till morning, and said that when the business of the day commenced we would have no difi&culty in proceeding home- wards. He was quite right. The next morning all was perfectly quiet, and business, as far as I could see, was resumed. The soldiery had gone to the barracks, and the police, few in number, loitered about very unostentatiously. ''Shall I procure you a car?" asked the master of the house. " It would add very considerably to the obliga- tions you have already conferred upon us,*' said Miss Lambert. The car was procured. I placed Miss Lambert on one side, and I mounted the other. I told the carman to drive to the gate of the priory, and when we reached it Miss Lambert said, "I will enter 22S' ROBERT EMMET. liere, and the car Avill take you to Enuiskeriy." "When I arrived at Enniskerry there were several people Imtering about, but to my great delight my friend Denis Howlan walked up to me. He reverentially rejected my hand, which I had offered to him, and said, '' I will show you your way home, sir." He knew every path and every pass about Enniskerry, and as if interpreting my fears he said, " We are perfectly safe now." After a long walk, which was rendered fatiguing by the want of sleep the preceding night, we sighted Castlerath. '• You must not go there," said Denis, " you must go to Mr. Lambert's, where I expect you will find a gentleman who will be glad to see you." The gentleman was Mr. Emmet, who embraced me warmly when I entered the house, and said, " I thought that you and Malachy had been killed, but neither of you, I am happy to say> have been hurt. Malachy is now safe, and so am I." " Your information," I said warmly, " is most welcome to me, for I was under the impression that both of you had been killed." "A good horse," said Emmet, " provided forme by a friend in Thomas Street, brought me here." Howlan now approached us deferentially, and said, "You are not quite safe here, both of you must go to the hills." ROBERT EMMET. 229 We followed .him, and he conducted us to the mountain recess where I had a few weeks before listened with great delight to Emmet's speech. '' Rest here/' said Howlan to us, "just amongst the trees, and a diligent watch will be kept for you. Both of you will like some sleep. I can da without sleep, but T am sure gentlemen like you can*t." On getting into the shade I rested, but slept not. When the deep shadows of evening were on the hills, I heard the tread of men approach- ing, but Howlan assured us that they were friends. They were a deputation for the purpose of telling Emmet that all was not lost, and that the chances even now were better than ever. "Will you," said Howlan to us, "step down into the valley where they are waiting for you?" We did so. Dwyre saluted Emmet, and urged him, in very concise but appropriate language, to turn the disaster of the former evening to a profitable account. " We can," he said, "take Wicklow, Gorey, Wex- ford, Carlow, and Kilkenny without delay. The whole country is up; and, dismayed by the defeat of last night, they are anxious to erase the disgrace, and to accomplish the great work which you, Mr. Emmet, had taken upon yourself" The time had passed for Emmet to credit such sweeping assertions ; and, though he did not con- 230 ROBERT EMMET. tradict liis friends, he unliesitatiDgly condemned any further recourse to hostilities. "For," said he, ''defeated in our iirst grand attempt, all further endeavours must be futile. Our enemies are armed; our friends are dispirited; and our only hope is now in patience. The justice of our cause must one day triumph ; and let us not indiscreetly protract the period by any premature endeavours to accelerate it. No doubt I could, in forty-eight hours, wrap the whole kingdom in the flames of rebellion; but, as I have no ambition beyond the good of my country, I best study her interest, and the interest of freedom, by declining to elevate any name upon the ruin of thousands, and afford our tyrants an apology to draw another chain around unhappy Ireland. In revolts the first blow decides the contest; we have aimed one ; and, missing the mark, let us retire unobserved, and leave our enemies ignorant of the hand which was raised for their destruction. Impenetrable secrecy surrounds all our measures; the loss we have sustained is inconsiderable; and, unacquainted with their own danger, and the extent of our re- sources, the tyrants of Ireland will relapse into false security, and afford us, perhaps sooner than we imagine, another opportunity to attack the hydra of oppression. Let me, therefore, my friends, advise you to act with that prudence ROBERT EMMET« 231 wMch becomes men engaged in the grandest of all causes — the liberation of their country. Be cautious, be silent ; and do not afford our enemies any ground for either tyranny or suspicion ; but, above all, never forget that you are United Irish- men — sworn to promote the liberty of your country by all the means in your power. I have/' he continued, "now relieved my bosom from a load of apprehension ; and, in preventing the revolt of last night from assuming the form of rebellion, I am conscious of having saved the lives of thousands of my fellow-countrymen. When the libeller of my name and intentions shall charge the blood of yesterday to my memory, I hope there will not be wanting some one to recollect that, if a little has been shed through my means, I have prevented the effusion of one hundred times as much, on which I might have floated to a dis- reputable notoriety. Over my future destiny fate has thrown a veil which mortal eyes cannot penetrate. Should I succeed in evading the pur- suit of my enemies, you may expect to see me once more armed in the cause of Ireland; but, should I fall on the scaffold, let not the coward or the knave intimidate you from again and again appealing to Heaven in behalf of your rights and liberties by alluding to my recent failure. Oh ! I beseech you, as. friends and fellow-patriots, to 232 ROBERT EMMET. beKeve me, and, in the name of our common country, I charge you to transmit it to your children, that, had I only one thousand pounds more, and another thousand men, I had overthrown the temple of despotism, and given liberty to Ireland. My plan was an admirable one ; but. there was failure in every part ; and from these, defects let future patriots learn to prevent similar consequences. Our attempt will not be unpro- ductive of good. Tyranny is not immortal ; for ultimately the oppressed destroys the oppressor.. Gentlemen, you will now look to your own safety; and, as for me, I shall do the best I can to quit . the country, in the hope of again meeting you under happier auspices." He spoke in a subdued and feeling tone ; and, as he bade them all farewell, he appeared deeply affected. After some hesitation his advice was acquiesced in ; and the assembly began to separate, two and three at a time. Emmet, having named a place at which to meet his Dublin friends on the morrow evening, consented to become my com- panion for the night; but, before we repaired to the cottage of our friend Denis, we thought it but right, to pay a Aasit to Castlerath, in order to afford my uncle such consolation as the nature of his bitter misfortunes admitted of. Denis, therefore, with much reluctance, consented to return with us,. ROBERT EMMET. 233 and made preparation for our reception, while a shrill "whistle, from a person in attendance, brought Dwyre and his men to escort us over the hiUs. As we approached the residence of my uncle,- I found myself unable to resist the gloomy impression which began to assail me. Allied by family ties to its inmates, I could not but feel for the sorrows of the poor old man, and weep over the fate of my cousins. Malachy had his full share of my sympathy ; for I looked upon his life as now forfeited to the violated laws ; while Bryan, less talented, but more harmless, largely partici- pated in my regret, though my acquaintance with him was very limited, for I seldom met him, even during my stay at the Castle. To see my uncle, and condole with him, was now a work of duty ; otherwise I should gladly have dispensed with the interview; even as it was, I had nearly shrunk from the task. When we arrived at the bridge before the Castle, Dwyre sent one of his men to reconnoitre ; and, on his return, we ascertained that my uncle was absent in Dublin, where he had gone to learn the fate of his sons. It was, therefore, thought unnecessary to enter the Castle, which was now filled with the lamentations of its inmates ; and we made our way for the homely cottage of Denis, where we found prepared for us a supper of new 234 ROBERT EMMET. potatoes and bacon, on which we fared sump- tuously, in company with the worthy peasant, and Dwyre, the extraordinary captain of the Wicklow banditti. After supper we retired to repose in a small apartment above the kitchen ; and Dwyre promised that some of his men should take care that our place of retreat was not obtruded upon. The next morning, very early, the traveller called upon us. "You see," said Emmet, "how well your pre- dictions have been fulfilled." " I come not to speak of the past. I come to speak not so much of events as of their impending consequences. Denis came to inform me that you were here. To say that I sympathise with you would not convey my meaning. I am full of alarm, not to say regret; and I feel for your position, a position not dissimilar to one which, five years ago, was my own." " I believe you," said Emmet. "What I did," continued the traveller, "you must now do." *' What is that 1 " "My from Ireland. Major Sirr's men will be on your trail." " No doubt," I observed. " Then," said Mr. Lamberi), " you must depart from this place in an hour.'* ROBERT EMMET. 235 " In an hour ! " repeated Emmet. " In half-an-hour — in ten minutes ! the sooner the better. The plan I pur»ued when I was in danger is open to you. In a day, at least^in one day — you may be beyond pursuit ; you may be in France.*' "I will obey you," said Emmet, thoughtfully, *^ but not at once." "Why not?" '' Because I must visit Dublin this very day." " Permit me, in familiarity, to ask," said the traveller, " for what purpose 1 " " You have a right to ask, sir, and I will tell you. There is one I must see. I made a promise to myself that I would see her. There are a few dear friends who aided me in the late unhappy affair whom I must also endeavour to see.'' "The urgency of the occasion," said the traveller, ■^^ will surely be a sufficient apology for the absence of visits at such a time ?" " It cannot," was Emmet's reply. " I have been terribly mistaken. I did what I thought a great duty. A duty to myself equally great -demands that I should this very day go to Dublin." " And, vulgarly speaking, ' walk into the lion's mouth.' " " Even so ; if that result is not to be avoided. I am already indexed in history. Eate may now do its worst. I have played for a high chance, '236 EGBERT EMMET. and I have lost it. I owe now veiy little to my- self. I still, however, owe much to my friends. There is one " Here he paused. For the first time I saw tears in his eyes ; but he hurriedly wiped them away and continued : — "To see her; to apologise to her; to beg her pardon, — obtain it, as I hope; and then let the very worst follow." " It clearly appears to me," said the traveller, "that all you desire can be accomplished without incurring increased danger. Your friends in Dublin are only anxious for your safety. The- lady you refer to has, no doubt, already pardoned you. Any message you may choose to send her- will be taken by my sister, who, in all probability, . "will be at home in a few hours ; and, although strong affections are insensible to obtrusive argu- ments, there is no difficulty in believing that your escape from danger will be infinitely more de- lightful to Miss Curran while she is in a state, — as no doubt she is, — of the utmost alarm. Think,. O think, my friend, whatever her anguish is now, how infinitely it would be heightened if the agents of Government secure your person. I will not refer to a terrible sequence ! " " Unnecessary," interrupted Emmet. " I am prepared for the worst. I have lived in the bright ROBERT EMMET. 237 idea of liberating my country. It was my father's wish ; it was my brother's recommendation. So far I have failed to realise the promises I made them; but even death on the scaffold will justify their recommending my memory to everyone who loves Ireland." He was perfectly calm in making these observa- tions, but the traveller interpreted differently, and observed, " You are excited. For Heaven's sake, my dear friend, no longer delude yourself Live on for better times; and, in order that you may live on for better times, quit the country at once." " I am resolved," said Emmet, " to abide by my firm resolution. Accept my best thanks, — thanks not to be expressed, — for your kind consideration for me ; but you will not be displeased to know that you exaggerate my danger. In point of fact, I hardly run any. I am not known to a living soul but the few men who worked under my direction, and the stiU fewer men, — honest, noble fellows, — ^who, out of their funds, supplied me with means to carry on the great work. To those who knew me six years ago I have not revealed myself. The companion of my youth, the sympathiser with my pursuits, the approver of my patriotism, my beloved friend, Tommy Moore, I have not com- municated with, lest I should in any way com- promise him, I have not even called upon his^ 238 ROBERT EMMET. mother,— that loving and wise woman. In fact, not one man in ten thousand knows my person." "One out of those ten thousand/' said the traveller, "will be quite sufficient to seal your doom." " I dare not believe that any one of my com- patriots, humble or otherwise, would betray me." " A noble thought ! " observed the traveller. " But do not conceal from yourself the fact that many of those who have just suffered in, your cause now probably blame you for the peril in which they found themselves. Some one of those? more mercenary than the others, may recognize you, and convey his knowledge to Major Sirr." " In that case," said Emmet, " the worst wiU foUow. Let it come ; I do not fear it. Perhaps I am resolute because I have fully persuaded myself that I can do what I intended to do to-day, and return here this night to take the course which you are so capable of pointing out to me." " You had better,'* I said, " change clothes with me. We are each of a size, and my clothes will fit you." " You are," said Emmet, " a true friend. You would save me by taking upon yourself my identity. But it must not be. I will go at once Do not consider me unreasonably obstinate. I did not say I had 'an oath in Heaven,' but J am in this business as fixed as fate." ROBERT EMMET. 239 The traveller bowed, and enquired how he pur- posed making the journey. " I will walk all the way," said Emmet. " 1^0, no," said the traveller. " Walk up to my house. The car will be ready. Drive to the Scalp, and then walk quietly across the country to the place where, no doubt, you intended first to go." At Elm Grove the vehicle was soon got ready. My dear friend mounted the car with alacrity — drove off, and I never saw him afterwards. His not returning that evening, as he promised, gave me great concern, and the worst was feared. The next day doubt was only relieved by the return of Denis from the city, to which he had been despatched for the purpose of making enquiry. His information was satisfactory, although of a negative kmd. There was no report of Emmet having been arrested. In the evening Miss Lambert returned home, and anxiety was not diminished by her state- ment that Emmet had not seen Miss Curran. She said that poor lady was in a condition of mind not to be described. In deference to her father, she assumed indifference. Alone, her grief refused the consolation of tears, and when she spoke it was only to express a hope that her lover had|secured his safety by flight. The poor lady saw no one but members of the family, and she assented 240 ROBERT ESIMET. hesitatingly, to my departure, on the promise that I would return on the following morning. " You must return to-night," said her brother ; " and, if Emmet should make his appearance, you must tell him to hasten as speedily as possible to Ehn Grove." When Miss Lambert again came to Elm Grove it was with the sad news that Emmet had not seen Miss Curran, but had been apprehended. My first impulse was to hasten to the city, and ask an interview with my unfortunate friend. "lYou will not be allowed to see him," said the traveller. " He is a doomed man. Nothing now can save him. You are not called upon to seek admission to him in his cell in manacles. There would be nothing heroic in your attempting to do what would do him no good, and would assuredly be fatal to you. Your business, therefore, is, my young friend, to quit Ireland without a moment's delay." "How am'I togol" " The' way I went. Denis Howlan knows the road. I will give him directions, and at Ejdmore you will find plenty of fishermen who will run you across to Wales. Take with you my fishing-rod and the other things necessary to an amateur angler, and ' thrash,' as the sportsman says, the brooks of the Principality. You may even, in your ROBERT EMMET. 241 apparent labour of love, go as far as Bala Lake. Very few Welshraeii in the interior can speak EngHsli, and those who can will not take you for a fugitive, for you lack the 'brogue,' and your accent is English. Take my advice : do not communicate with your father and mother while you are there, but after a few weeks take the coach from Hereford, or elsewhere; and no town offers such means of concealment as London does. Your place of proper concealment will be your father's house ; and take care and do not use it after the fashion of a place of concealment." '' Your counsel," I said, " like all your counsel, is wise and discreet. I will let you know how I get on." "By no means. Do not attempt to write to me until I write to you. You must throw no chance away. In this unhappy country, Govern- ment, or rather the agents of Government, have long adopted the advice of Rinaldo, and shed blood enough." The plan proposed to me by the traveller was singularly successful. My father and mother, in the natural impulse of the moment, forgot their anger, and in due time forgave me. My father was pleased to know that, although I was foolish, I had done nothing dishonourable. My mother quietly rejoiced that I had stood up for Ireland. 242 ROBERT EMMET. The fate of Emmet was soon decided. He died as he lived — calm, conscientiously firm in his own thoughts, and proud that he had sacrificed his life to his comitry. The miniature Rebellion of 1803 was soon forgotten. My poor uncle died literally of grief- Malachy escaped to France, entered the French service, and perished in the retreat from Moscow. The old Castle, as if sympathising with the ill- fortunes of the family, to the astonishment of all the neighbourhood, yielded to time, and in a moment, on a dark night, became a heap of ruins. My father proposed, iu compliment to my mother, to purchase Castlerath and its surroundings ; but she objected. It was no longer associated with the happiness of her girlish days. When old affections came upon her they turned into^sadness, and new affections were awakened when she visited, or was visited by, her gTandchildren ; for Miss Lambert, in due time, after the terrible events of 1803, became my wife. \ ROBERT EMMET. 243 CHAPTER XXL THE CHARACTER, OP ROBERT EMMET Twenty years have elapsed since I committed the egregious folly of joining a conspiracy against the Government of this mighty empire. The events of the few weeks of my acquaintance with Eobert Emmet, and its results, are as enduring as my memory. Regrets eternally obtrude, but they never arise without vividly recalling to my mind the person, the uttered thoughts, the splendid conversations, the heroism, and what may be called, and what I think ought to be called, the fanaticism of a patriot boy. All that was brilliant about him brightens, as it were, in my very soul ; and I will own, silly as it may be, that I felt pride in being connected with fearful proceedings — brief but tragical ; and although they were fatal to my young friend, they served as a lesson beneficial to his country and the Government. 44 ROBERT EMMET. The personal appearance of Robert Emmet was pleasing rather than commanding. The imma- turity of youth still hung about his figure. His form was, in every particular, perfect: nothing was exaggerated ; and his features, when in a state of repose, were marked, but not attractive. His face bore an exact resemblance to that of the south- west of Ireland : it was long ; and his nose was somewhat prominent, indicative, it was thought, of great energy. When he spoke his countenance became instantly interesting. His voice was clear, distinct, and very agreeable. When he was a little excited, his eyes became excessively animated. His manner indicated his intimacy with refined society. He was fluent, but very correct. Even on subjects the least interesting there was an in- cipient flow of enthusiasm about him, and it was this earnestness which rendered him most per- suasive ; but it was impossible to hear him even on ordinary subjects without being convinced that there was a deep meaning in everything he said. Educated under circumstances which imposed caution and anxiety on his parents, he was ex- cluded in a great part, if not wholly, from what is called a knowledge of the world. The atmosphere of disloyalty had thickened over the country when he was born. It exercised a treasonable influence on his youth ; and he listened, no doubt at his ROBERT EMMET. 245 father's table and among the companions with whom he associated, to the reasoning which, in the absence of discussion and contradiction, established the fact that Ireland ought to be a republic, and would be a republic if the people would combine in a national effort to throw off the power of England. That was the opinion of his brother, Thomas Adis. It was the opinion of O'Conor, the friend of his brother ; of IN'appartande, Lord Fitzgerald, and, above all, of Wolfe Tone. Tone, although a member of the Established Church, was secretary to a kind of Catholic board, and was supposed — erroneously, as it subsequently appeared — to perfectly understand the feelings of the Koman Catholics and their continued desire for rebellion. Young Emmet was, therefore, educated in a tangible incipient treason. Like other young- men of that age, of this age, and of every age, he was sanguine. Permitted to indulge in his own schemes of national defences, and in the facility of bringing those national defences into use, he yielded to what, indeed, was a common delusion, and the delusion long indulged in became a habit of his soul. The failure of youth, when prematurely venturing into large concerns, is proverbial ; so proverbial, that wise men in every pursuit of life, particularly in 246 ROBERT EMMET. trade and commerce, never fail in endeavouring to prevent the embarkation into important con- cerns before discreet manhood is attained. The delusion that was first encouraged, and afterwards confirmed, by the peculiar disposition of the Irish people, was to confide more in the force of prejudice than in the lessons of wisdom. All oppressed people acquire, from the cradle upwards, a de- testation of those who oppress them, and an ardent eagerness to achieve their country's independence. These facts were just as common, under similar circumstances, in all European nations as they were in Ireland ; but in Ireland a difference in creed helped to intensify the natural political passions. National prejudices are strong alike in the inhabit- ants of towns and provinces ; but it so happens, I believe, that treason acquires force, at first at least, in towns and cities, rather than in the country. Oppression operates adversely in another way when long endurance is the result of frequent dis- comfitures. The Catholic peasant acknowledged, practically, the terrible influence of positive serf- dom. Truthfulness was not to be expected when truth was itself a violation of law. "Where fear was not admitted, the Roman Catholic was always outspoken. He gave utterance to his inmost thoughts, and for the moment was apparently prepared to back those thoughts in a struggle for SOBERT EMMET. 247 liberty. This boldness, however, resembled too much the prayers of the woodman, who altered his petition the moment a deliverer appeared ; and the Irish peasant in the south, certainly, was never prompt to back his opinion in the open field. His prudence, not to designate it by a worse title, had been the exemplified prudence of all the nations of Europe until very recently, if not stilL But the knowledge of facts refuses for a long time to be recognized ; and hence it is we hear per- petually on public platforms, and read in books and newspapers, of " the might that slumbers in a peasant's arm" for the security of national liberty. It is surprising how readily nations acquiesce in the wrong-doing of legislators, and persist in the erroneous opinions of their time. The road to national liberty has never been a very tempting one, and it is seldom pursued except under a species of coercion half moral and half compulsory. The Irish have been reproached with never having fought a single battle for national independence. Their national battles were generally waged in favour of contending English parties. When the Puritan wars of England were transferred to Ire- land, the Catholic people, strong as their feelings were on the side of Koyalty, or, rather, in hostility to the Puritans, did not crowd into the camp. 248 ROBERT EMMET. O'Neile in Ulster, and Preston in Mnnster, raised tolerably large armies. In Ulster the population swelled the national forces, and were at first successful ; but in the South the peasantry- kept aloof from Preston's army ; and the Pope's legate was welcomed ardently when he brought large sums of money with him. When, however, the money was gone, either Preston was a bad general or his soldiers deserters ; for the legate had to make a hasty retreat through Galway to Italy. The national cause soon collapsed. When James the First tried his fortune in the island, the Catholics did not swarm about the royal standard;, and in consequence of their absence the siege of Derry was raised, the battle of the Boyne was lost, St. Euthe fell at Aughrim, and Limerick capitu- lated on promises made by William, not one of which promises, properly speaking, was ever adhered to. The Eebellion of 1798 was, as my friend Mr. Lambert would call it, a riot — it was an abortion. It originated among the Protestants of Ulster; and the Protestants of Leinster — that is, of Wexfordshire, at least — consented to head the rebel peasants. Being, however, long strangers to religious toleration of any kind, the peasants turned out to fight, as they thought, for their religion; and their excesses, before the military ROBERT EMMET. 24:9 appeared, expelled from them Harvey, Morgan, and others. The statement of my friend, Mr. Lambert, has clearly narrated the prompt cause of failure ; but, short as the revolt was, it evoked new religious prejudices, and deepened those previously in existence. The cause of Emmet's Rebellion resided in national circumstances, and its failure in the religious hatreds which 1798 had evoked. The Protestants of Ulster shrank from an alliance with those who mistook intolerance for patriotism ; and the Catholics, adliering to their intolerance, retained, in increased force, their original dislike of Protestantism. Emmet concealed these facts from himself when he meditated rebellion. The victim of an idea, he rejected the counsel of wiser heads than his own; and being naturally incapable of organisation on a large ecale, he discovered his mistake in five minutes after the firing of the three signals in Thomas Street. The great lesson in his failure, however, is, it is feared, still to be appreciated; but, properly understood, it amounts to a demonstration that an insurrection in Ireland is utterly impossible while its population regard each other through religious prejudices. What the Catholics desire the Protestants will oppose; what the Protestants desire will receive no assist- ance from the Roman Catholics. The whole Irish 250 ROBERT EMMET. people, therefore, must, if they be wise, work out the good of their country through a real identity with the people of England. Relieved from the absurd, and therefore mischievous, dream of Repub- licanism, or separation, they will be afforded an opportunity of profiting .by all the advantages which have enriched and ennobled England, while rivalling their neighbours in all intellectual developments, which, in union, become the proper property of both kingdoms. Emmet, full of truthfulness, of honour, of noble aspirations, concealed from himself the history of national discontents, while he had totally forgotten the events in the Rebellion which had rendered union between the Catholics and Protestants impossible. His Rebellion was the result of his youth, his inexperience, and a sanguine tempara- ment which refused to permit interruption between his grand conceptions and their expected fulfil- ment. There was a witchery about my young friend which was perfectly marvellous. All who approached and conversed with him loved him. There was a kindness in his nature which forbade incredulity in reference to his views when he disclosed them to his chosen friends ; and I say this not for the purpose of excusing the fascination which he exercised over me. It was utterly ROBERT EMMET. 251 impossible not to consider his friendship a delight and honour. To inspire me with confidence wa s a proof of his earnestness and persuasive power ; and so strong was the rega^rd I felt for him that, as I have honestly stated, I was willing at the last moment to peril my life in proof of my friendship. In private conversation he was perfectly charming. He was well, rather than deeply read. The poets were more familiar to him than the historians; hut it would have needed a better informed man than I was to have resisted what he pre-eminently possessed — the influence of "that faculty of the mind without which knowledge is inert and learning useless." He was full of genius of the highest possible quality, of benevolence the most pure, and humanity the most conspicuous. He died, as he lived, believing sincerely in the grandeur of what he considered a great mission, and calculating on glory whether he failed or succeeded. He was the same when in the rude temple of treason as he was when he stood a criminal in the dock, and a traitor on the scaffold. His consciousness of being right never allowed him to falter, and his self-possession was quite as conspicuous in his speech to the judges as it was when the headsman stood beside him on the scaffold. His mind, though misled, had in it all 252 ROBERT EMMET. the assured elements of greatness ; and, had he lived, his name would have heen an ornament to his country and to his age. 253 APPENDIX. MOOEE AND EMMET. MooKE prefaced the complete edition of his "Irish Melodies," published a few years before he died, with the following interesting account of his intimacy with Eobert Emmet : — " The recollections connected, in my mind, with that early period of my life, when I first thought of interpreting in verse the touching language of my country's music, tempt me to advert to those long past days ; and, even at the risk of being thought to indulge overmuch in what Colley Gibber calls ' the great pleasure of writing about one's self all day,' to notice briefly some of those impressions and influences under which the a-ttempt to adapt words to our ancient Melodies was for some time meditated by me, and at last undertaken. " There can be no doubt that to the zeal and industry of Mr. Bunting his country is indebted for the preservation of her old national airs. During the prevalence of the Penal Code, the music of Ireland was made to share in the fate of 254 APPENDIX. its people. Both were alike shut out from the pale of civilized life ; and seldom anjrwhere but in the huts of the proscribed race could the sweet voice of the songs of other days be heard. Even of that class, the itinerant harpers, among whom for a long period our ancient music had been kept alive, there remained but few to continue the precious tradition; and a great music meeting held at Belfast in the year 1792, at which the two or three still remaining of the old race of wander- ing harpers assisted, exhibited the last public effort made by the lovers of Irish music to pre- serve to their country the only grace or ornament left to her, out of the wreck of all her liberties and hopes. Thus what the fierce legislature of the Pale had endeavoured vainly through so many centuries to effect, — the utter extinction of Ire- land's minstrelsy, — the deadly pressure of the Penal Laws had nearly, at the close of the eighteenth century, accomplished ; and but for the zeal and intelligent research of Mr. Bunting, at that crisis, the greater part of our musical treasures would probably have been lost to the world. It was in the year 1796 that this gentle- man published his first volume ; and the national spirit and hope then wakened in Ireland, by the rapid spread of the democratic principle through- out Europe, could not but insure a most cordial reception for such a work ; — flattering as it was to the fond dreams of Erin's early days, and con- taining in itself, indeed, remarkable testimony to the truth of her claims to an early date of civilization. " It was in the year 1797 that, through the medium of Mr. Bunting's book, I was first made acquainted with the beauties of our native music, APPENDIX. 25^ A young friend of our family, Edward Hudson, the nephew of an eminent dentist of that name, who played with much taste and feeling on the flute, and, unluckily for himself, was but too deeply warmed with the patriotic ardour then kindling around him, was the hrst who made known to me this rich mine of our country's melodies ; — a mine, from the working of which my humble labours as a poet have since derived their sole lustre and value. About the same period I formed an acquaintance, which soon grew into intimacy, with young Eobert Emmet. He was my senior, I think, by one class, in the university; for when, in the first year of my course, I became a member of the Debating Society, — a sort of nursery to the authorised Historical Society, — I found him in full reputation, not only for his learning and eloquence, but also for the blame- lessness of his life, and the grave suavity of his manners. " Of the political tone of this minor school of oratory, which was held weekly at the rooms of different resident members, some notion may be formed from the nature of the questions proposed for discussion, — one of which, I recollect, was, ^ Whether an Aristocracy or a Democracy is most favourable to the advancement of science and literature V while another, bearing even more pointedly on the relative position of the govern- ment and the people, at this crisis, was thus significantly propounded : — ' Whether a soldier was bound, on all occasions, to obey the orders of his commanding officer ? ' On the former of these questions the effect of Emmet's eloquence upon his young auditors was, I recollect, most striking. The prohibition against touching upon modern 256 APPENDIX. politics, which it was subsequently found necessary to enforce, had not yet 'been introduced ; and Emmet — who took of course ardently the side of Democracy in the debate, after a brief review of the republics of antiquity, showing how much they had all done for the advancement of science and the arts — proceeded, lastly, to the grand and perilous example, then passing before all eyes, the young Republic of France. Referring to the cir- X3umstance told of Csesar, that, in swimming across the Rubicon, he contrived to carry with him his Commentaries and his sword, the young orator said, ' Thus France wades through a sea of ~ storm and blood ; but while, in one hand, she wields the sword against her aggressors, with the other she upholds the glories of science and literature un- sullied by the ensanguined tide through which she struggles.' In another of his remarkable speeches, I remember his saying, ' When a people, advancing rapidly in knowledge and power, perceive at last how far their government is lagging behind them, what then, I ask, is to be done in such a case ? What, but to pull the government up to the people ? ' " In a few months after, both Emmet and myself were admitted members of the greater and recog- nized institution, called the Historical Society; and, even here, the political feeling so rife abroad contrived to mix up its restless spirit with all our debates and proceedings, notwithstanding the constant watchfulness of the college authorities, as well as of a strong party within the Society itself, devoted adherents to the policy of the government, and taking invariably part with the Provost and Fellows in all their restrictive and inquisitorial measures. The most distinguished APPENDIX. 257 and eloquent of these supporters of power were a young man named Sargent, of whose fate in after days I know nothing, and Jebb, the late Bishop of Limerick, who was then, as he continued to be through life, much respected for his private worth and learning. " Of the popular side, in the Society, the chief champion and ornament was Robert Emmet ; and though every care was taken to exclude from the subjects of debate all questions verging towards the politics of the day, it was always easy enough, by a side-wind of digression or allusion, to bring Ireland and the prospects then opening upon her within the scope of the orator's view. So exciting and powerful in this respect were Emmet's speeches, and so little were even the most eloquent of the adverse party able to cope with his powers, that it was at length thought advisable, by the higher authorities, to send among us a man of more advanced standing, as well as belonging to a former race of renowned speakers, in that Society, in order that he might answer the speeches of Emmet, and endeavour to obviate the mischievous impression they were thought to produce. The name of this mature champion of the higher powers it is not necessary here ■ to record ; but the object of his mission among us was in some respect gained ; as it was in replying to a long oration of his, one night, that Emmet, much to the mortification of us who gloried in him as our leader, became suddenly embarrassed in the middle of his speech, and, to use the parliamentary phrase, broke down. Whether from a momentary con- fusion in the thread of his argument, or possibly from diffidence in encountering an adversary so much his senior, — for Emmet was as modest as he 258 . APPENDIX. was liigli-minded and brave, — he began, hi the full career of his eloquence, to hesitate and repeat his words, and then, after an effort or two to recover himself, sat down. " It fell to my own lot to be engaged, about the same time, in a brisk struggle with the dominant party in the Society, in consequence of a burlesque poem which I gave in, as candidate for the Literary Medal, entitled An Ode upon Nothing, with Notes, hy Trismegistus Rustifustius, B.D., etc., etc. For this squib against the great Dons of learning, the medal was voted to me by a triumphant majority. But a motion was made in the follow- ing week to rescind this vote ; and a fierce contest between the two parties ensued, which I at last put an end to by voluntarily withdrawing my composition from the Society's Book. "I have already adverted to the period when Mr. Bunting's valuable volume first became known to me. There elapsed no very long time before I was myself the happy proprietor of a copy of the work, and, though never regularly instructed in music, could play over the airs with tolerable facility on the pianoforte. Eobert Emmet used sometimes to sit by me, when I was thus engaged; and I remember one day his starting up as from a reverie, when I had just finished playing that spirited tune called the Red Fox, and exclaiming, 'Oh that I were at the head of twenty- thousand men, marching to that air !' "How little did I then think that, in one of the most touching of the sweet airs I used to play to him, his own dying words would find an interpreter so worthy of their sad but proud feeling ; or that another of those mournful strtiins would long be associated, in the hearts APPENDIX. 259 of his countrymen, with the memory of her who shared with Ireland his last blessing and prayer. " Though fully alive, of course, to the feelings which such music could not but inspire, I had not yet undertaken the task of adapting words to any of the airs ; and it was, I am ashamed to say, in dull and turgid prose, that I made my iirst appearance in print as a champion in the popular cause. Towards the latter end of the year 1797, the celebrated newspaper called The Press was set up by Arthur O'Connor, Thomas Adis Emmet, and other chiefs of the United Irish conspiracy, with the view of preparing and ripening the public mind for the great crisis then fast approaching. This memorable journal, according to the impres- sion I at present retain of it, was far more distinguished for earnestness of purpose and intrepidity, than for any great display of literary talent ; — the bold letters written by Emmet (the elder), under the signature of ' Montanus,' being the only compositions I can now call to mind as entitled to praise for their literary merit. It required, however, but a small sprinkling of talent to make bold writing, at that time, palatable ; and, from the experience of my own home, I can answer for the avidity with which every line of this daring journal was devoured. It used to come out, I think, twice a-week, and, on the even- ing of publication, I always read it aloud to our small circle after supper. "It may easily be conceived that, what with my ardour for the national cause, and a growing consciousness of some little turn for authorship, I was naturally eager to become a contributor to those patriotic and popular columns. But the 260 APPEJTDIX. constant anxiety about me which I knew my own family felt, — a feeling more wakeful far than even their zeal in the public cause, — withheld me from hazarding any step that might cause them alarm. I liad ventured, indeed, one evening, to pop privately into the letter-box of The Press a short Fragment in imitation of Ossian. But this, though inserted, passed off quietly; and nobody was, in any sense of the phrase, the wiser for it. I was soon tempted, however, to try a more daring flight. Without communicating my secret to any one but Edward Hudson, I addressed a long letter, in prose, to the ***** of * * * *, in which a pro- fusion of bad flowers of rhetoric was enwreathed plentifully with that weed which Shakespeare calls 'the cockle of rebellion,' and, in the same manner as before, committed it tremblingly to the chances of the letter-box. I hardly expected my prose would be honoured with insertion, when, lo, on the next evening of publication, when, seated as usual in my little corner by the fire, I unfolded the paper for the purpose of reading it to my select auditory, there was my own letter staring me full in the face, being honoured with so conspicuous a place as to be one of the first articles my audience would expect to hear. Assuming an outward appearance of ease, while every nerve within me was trembling, I contrived to accomplish the read- ing of the letter without raising in either of my auditors a suspicion that it was my own. I enjoyed the pleasure, too, of hearing it a good deal praised by them ; and might have been tempted by this to acknowledge myself the author, had I not found that the language and sentiments of the article were considered by both to be ' very bold,' " I was not destined, however, to remain long APPENDIX. 261 undetected. On the following day, Edward Hudson, — the only one, as I have said, entrusted with my secret — called to pay us a morning visit, and had not been long in the room, conversing with my mother, when, looking significantly at me, he said, 'Well, you saw ' Here he stopped ; but the mother's eye had followed his, with the rapidity of lightning, to mine, and at once she perceived the whole truth. ' That letter was yours, then V she asked of me eagerly ; and, without hesitation, of course, I acknowledged the fact ; when in the most earnest manner she entreated of me never again to have any connexion with that paper ; and, as every wish of hers was to me law, I readily pledged the solemn promise she required. " Though well aware how easily a sneer may be raised at the simple details of this domestic scene, I have not ventured to put it on record, as affording an instance of the gentle and womanly watchful- ness, — the Providence, as it may be called, of the little world of home, — by which, although placed almos-t in the very current of so headlong a movement, and living familiarly with some of the most daring of those who propelled it, I yet was guarded from any participation in their secret oaths, counsels, or plans, and thus escaped all share in that wild struggle to which so many far better men than myself fell victims. ''In the meanwhile, this great conspiracy was hastening on, with fearful precipitancy, to its outbreak; and vague and shapeless as are now known to have been the views, even of those who were engaged practically in the plot, it is not any wonder that to the young and uninitiated like myself it should have opened prospects partaking 262 APPENDIX. far more of the wild dreams of poesy than of the plain and honest prose of real life. Bnt a crisis was then fast approaching, when such self-delusions could no longer be indulged, and when the mystery which had hitherto hung over the plans of the consjDirators was to be rent asunder by the stern hand of power. " Of the horrors that foreran and followed the frightful explosion ot the year 1798, 1 have neither inclination nor, luckily, occasion to speak. But among these introductory scenes which had somewhat prepared the public mind for such a catastrophe, there was one of a painful description, which, as having been myself an actor in it, I may be allowed briefly to notice. " It was not many weeks, I think, before this crisis, that, owing to information gained by the college authorities of the rapid spread, among the students, not only of the principles but the organ- isation of / the Irish Union, a solemn Visitation was held by Lord Clare, the vice-chancellor of the University, with the view of inquiring into the extent of this branch of the plot, and dealing summarily with those engaged in it. " Imperious and harsh as then seemed the policy of thus setting up a sort of inquisitorial tribunal, armed with the power of examining witnesses on oath, and in a place devoted to the instruction of youth, I cannot but confess that the facts which came out in the course of the evidence went far towards justifying even this arbitrary proceeding; and to the many who, like myself, were acquainted only with the general views of the Union leaders, without even knowing, even from conjecture, who those leaders were, or what their plans or objects, it was most startling to hear the disclosures which APPENDIX. 5G3 every succeeding witness brought forth. There were a few, — and among that number poor Robert Emmet, Jolm Brown, and the two ***** *s — whose total silence upon the whole scene, as well as the dead absence that, day after day, followed the calling out of their names, proclaimed how deep had been their share in the unlawful pro- ceedings inquired into by this tribunal. "But there was one young friend of mine,*****, whose appearance among the suspected and ex- amined as much surprised as it deeply and painfully interested me. He and Emmet had long been intimate and attached friends ; — their congenial fondness for mathematical studies having been, I think, a far more binding sympathy between them than any arising out of their political opinions. From his being called up, however, on this day, when, as it appeared afterwards, all the most important evidence was brought forward, there could be little doubt that, in addition to his intimacy with Emmet, the college authorities must have possessed some inforn^tion which led them, to suspect him of being an accomplice in the conspiracy. In the course of his examination, some questions were put to him which he refused to answer,- — most probably from their tendency to involve or inculpate others, and he was accord- ingly dismissed, with the melancholy certainty that his future prospects in life were blasted ; it being already known that the punishment for such contumacy was not merely expulsion from the University, but exclusion from all the learned professions. "The proceedings, indeed, of this whole day had been such as to send me to my home in the evening with no very agreeable feelings or pro- 264 APPENDIX. spects. I had heard evidence given affecting even the lives of some of those friends whom I had long regarded with admiration as well as affection; and what was still worse than even their danger, — a ' danger ennobled, I thought, by the cause in which they suffered, — was the shameful spectacle ex- hibited by those who had appeared in evidence against them. Of these witnesses, the greater number had been themselves involved in the plot, and now came forward either as voluntary in- formers, or else were driven by the fear of the consequences of refusal to secure their own safety at the expense of companions and friends. ~ " I well remember the gloom, so unusual, that hung over our family circle on that evening, as talking together of the events of the day, we dis- cussed the likelihood of my being among those who would be called up for examination on the morrow. The deliberate conclusion to which my dear honest advisers came, was that, overwhelming as the consequences were to all their plans and hopes for me, yet, if the questions leading to criminate others, which had been put to almost all examined on that day, and which poor****alone had refused to answer, I must, in the same manner, and at all risks, return a similar refusal. I am not quite certain whether I received any intimation, on the following morning, that I was to be one of those examined in the course of the day ; but I rather think some such notice had been conveyed to me ; — and, at last, my awful turn came, and I stood in the presence of the formidable tribunal. There sat, with severe look, the vice-chancellor, and, by his side, the memorable Doctor Duigenan — memorable for his eternal pamphlets against the Catholics. APPENDIX. 265 * The oath was proffered to me. 'I have an objection, my Lord,' said I, ' to taking this oath.' ' What is your objection V he asked sternly. 'I have no fears, my Lord, that anything I might say woTild criminate myself, but it might tend to involve others, and I despise the character of the person who could be led, under an}^ such circum- stances, to inform against his associates.' This was aimed at some of the revelations of the preceding day ; and, as I learned afterwards, was so understood. ' How old are you, sir ?' he then asked. ' Between seventeen and eighteen, my Lord.' He then turned to his assessor, Duigenan, and exchanged a few words with him, in an under tone of voice. ' We cannot,' he resumed, again addressing me, 'suffer anyone to remain in our University who refuses to take this oath.' ' I shall, then, my Lord,' I replied, ' take the oath — still reserving to myself the power of refusing to answer any such questions as I have just described.' 'We do not sit here to argue with you, sir,' he rejoined sharply ; upon which I took the oath and seated myself in the witnesses' chair. " The following are the questions and answers that then ensued. After adverting to the proved existence of United Irish Societies in the Univer- sity, he asked, ' Have you ever belonged to any of these societies V ' No, my Lord.' ' Have you ever known of any of the proceedings that took place in them ? ' ' No, my Lord.' ' Did you ever hear of a proposal at any of their meetings for the purchase of arms and ammunition V ' Never, my Lord.' 'Did you ever hear a proposition made, in one of these societies, with respect to the expediency of assassination V ' Oh no, my Lord.' He then turned again to Duigenan, and, after a 266 APPENDIX. few words with him, said to me: — 'When such are the answers you are able to give, pray what was your repugnance to taking the oath?' 'I have ah'eady told your Lordship my chief reason ; in addition to which, it was the first oath I ever took, and the hesitation was, I think, natural.* " I was now dismissed without any further questioning ; and, however trying had been this short operation, was amply repaid for it by the kind zeal with which my young friends and companions flocked to congratulate me ; not so much, I was inclined to hope, on my acquittal by the court, as on the manner in which I acquitted myself. Of my reception, on returning home, after the fears entertained of so different a result, I will not attempt any description ;— it was all that such a home alone could furnish." It will be observed that in the above statement Moore makes no reference to the proceedings against Emmet. Dr. Madden, however, in his life of Eobert Emmet, published the following facts : — "Eobert Emmet, in the spring of 1798, was about twenty years of age ; his brother, in the month of March of that year, had been arrested ; many of his fellow students were members of the Society of United Irishmen, and several of his brothers, most intimate friends and associates, were then his companions in misfortune. Whether Robert was a sworn member of the Society I have not been able to ascertain, but that he had adopted its principles early in that year, and had been freely communicated with on subjects connected with its affairs, by persons implicated in the latter, there is no doubt. In the month of February, the Lord Chancellor's visitation at the college, which terminated in the expulsion of several APPENDIX. 267 students charged with treasonable practices in the college took place. The particulars of this pro- ceedino- are detailed in the Memoir of William Corbet. " When several of the students had been called before the chancellor, and examined upon oath, Kobert Emmet, on being summoned, wrote a letter to the members of the board of fellows, denoun- cing the act of demanding, on oath, information from the students ; tending to inculpate their fellow students, and requiring of them to disclose the names of such of their associates as were members of the Society of United Irishmen, and desiring to have his name taken off the books of the Colleo'e. Before the letter was forwarded to the board, he showed it to his- father, and it met with his father's entire approbation. This circumstance has not been referred to in any account that has been given of the transaction ; it is now stated on the authority of Mr. P , the friend of Eobert Emmet, and previouslj^ an inmate of his father's house. The name of Eobert Emmet, however, without any reference to this proceeding, ap- peared, I believe, in the list of expelled students." SARAH CITERAN. (From Dr. Madden' s Lives of Irish Insurgents. J " Poor Miss Curran, after the death of her lover, did not very long remain in her father's house. Her wretchedness found no alleviation there ; and the very constraint imposed on her feelings was productive of additional misery. At length she quitted her father's house, ' her home no more,' and proceeded to Cork, accompanied by her sister. There she was received in the house of Mr. 268 ATVEJimx. Penrose, a Quaker; a gentleman, I believe, who found it necessary to leave Ireland in 1798. She was treated by the family of Mr. Penrose with the utmost kindness and most delicate attention. It was while she was on a visit with Mr. Penrose, that she became acquainted with Captain Sturgeon; and after some months, this poor girl, friendless, home- less, heart- widowed, dependent on the kindness of people almost strangers to her, endured the atten- tions of a person singularly refined, delicate and amiable in his disposition, moved less by her personal attractions than the sufferings of one so young, so good, so gentle, and yet so friendless and so forlorn ; that gentleman made an offer to her of his hand and fortune. " Sarah Curran was then beginning to manifest symptoms of decline. The sorrows that in silence and in the solitude of society, for such it was to her, had preyed upon her health, her appearance now betrayed in the unerring symptoms of that insidious disease which mocks the hopes of its victims, and of those around them, and mimics the hue of health, and the lustre of the bright eye of youth and loveliness. "Major Sturgeon's proposal embraced the pro- ject of a residence in a southern climate. Any project that afforded an opportunity of leaving Ireland had a recommendation. Sarah Curran finally consented to become the wife of Major Sturgeon. Robert Emmet's memory was not for- gotten ; its claim on her heart was recognized and acknowledged by the friend and protector who had assumed a husband's title, to prove the generosity and benevolence of his nature, in his care and protection of one who was worthy of so much pity as well as admiration. APPENDIX. 269 " In the ' Hibernian Magazine ' of February, the marriage is announced in the following terms : — •'At Cork, Captain R. H. Sturgeon, of the Royal Staff Corps, and nephew of the late Marquis of Rockingham, to Miss Sarah Curran, daughter of J. P. Curran.' '• Immediately after her marriage, she accom- panied her husband to Sicily, and there, in the prime of life, the amiable, the gentle, the broken- hearted Sarah Curran, closed her sad career in the course of a few months after her arrival. Her remains were conveyed to Ireland, and buried at Newmarket, the burial place of her father's family. Whether their interment there was by her own desire, or in the fulfilment of her supposed wishes on the part of Captain Sturgeon, I am unable to state ; in either case, the removal to her own land was an act which cannot fail to be a matter of mournful gratification to her countrymen." THE BEOKEN HEAKT. [From Washington living's Sketch Book.) '' It is a common practice with those who have outlived the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought up in the gay heartiness of dissipated life, to laugh at all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion as mere fictions of novelists and poets. My observations on human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They have convinced me, that however the surface of the character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are 270 APPENDIX. sometimes desolating in tlieir effects. Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it ? — 1 believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex ; but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early grave. " Man is the creature of interest and ambition, His nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of the world. Love is but the embellish- ment of his early life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life is a history of the aifections. The heart is her world : it is there her ambition strives for empire ; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure ; she embarks her whole soul in the traf&c of affection ; and, if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a bankruptcy of the heart. " To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some bitter pangs ; it wounds some feelings of tenderness — it blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being — he can dissi- pate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupation, or can plunge into the tide of pleasure ; or, if the scene of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and, taking as it were the wings of the morning, can ' fly to the uttermost parts of the earth and be at rest.' " But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings ; and APPENDIX. 271 if they are turned to min:sters of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation ? Her lot is to be wooed and Avon ; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned and left desolate. " How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away into the tomb, and none can. tell the cause that blighted their loveliness. As the dove will clasp its wings to its sides, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying upon its vitals, so it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of the heart has failed. The great charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in healthful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken — the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams — ' dry sorrow drinks her blood,* until her enfeebled frame sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her, after a little while, and you find friendship weep- ing over her untimely grave, and wondering that one, who but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty, should so speedily be brought down to ' darkness and the worm.' You will be told of some wintry chill, some casual indisposition, that laid her low ; — but no one knows the mental ma'■■ ! ,;ad 2^ 1:-- OEC -8 '001 o'.^i-"2 MM ^ 200'.