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1861.] 
 
 The Young Repealer. 
 
 387 
 
 The one the fancy of Ovid metamor- 
 phosed from a restless man to a fickle 
 sea-god ; the other assumed so many de- 
 ceptive shapes to those who visited his 
 cave, that his memory has been preserv- 
 ed in the word Protean. Such fancies 
 well apply to a part of Nature which 
 shifts like the sands, and ranges from the 
 
 hideous Cuttle-fish and ravenous Shark to 
 the delicate Medusa, whose graceful form 
 and trailing tentacles float among the 
 waving fronds of colored Algas, like 
 
 " Sabrina fair, 
 Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 
 In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
 The loose tram of her amber-dropping hair." 
 
 THE YOUNG EEPEALER. 
 
 About eighteen years ago, when I 
 was confined to two rooms by illness of 
 long standing, I received a remarkable 
 note by post one day. The envelope, 
 bearing the Dublin postmark, was ad- 
 dressed in a good, bold, manly hand- 
 writing; but the few lines within show- 
 ed traces of agitation. What I am going 
 to relate is a true story, — altogether 
 true, so far as I can trust my memory, — 
 except the name of the Young Eepealer. 
 I might give his real name without dan- 
 ger of hurting any person's feelings but 
 one ; but, for the sake of that one, who 
 will thus be out of the reach of my nar- 
 rative, I speak of him under another 
 name. Having to choose a name, I will 
 take a thoroughly Irish on^, and call my 
 correspondent Patrick Monahan. 
 
 The few lines which showed agitation 
 in the handwriting were calm in lan- 
 guage, but very strange. Patrick Mon- 
 ahan told me that he was extremely un- 
 happy, and that he had reason to believe 
 that I, and I alone, could do him good. 
 This, with the address, — to a certain 
 number in a street in Dublin, — was 
 all. 
 
 There was little time before the post 
 went out ; I was almost unable to write 
 from illness ; but, after a second glance 
 at this note, I felt that I dared not delay 
 nay reply. I did not think that it was 
 money that he wished to ask. I did not 
 think that he was insane. I could not 
 conceive why he should apply to me, nor 
 
 VOL. VIII. 22 
 
 why he did not explain what he wished 
 from me ; but I had a strong impression 
 that it was safest to reply at once. I did 
 so, in half a dozen lines, promising to 
 write next day, after a further attempt 
 to discover his meaning, and begging him 
 to consider how completely in the dark 
 I was as to him and his case. It was well 
 that I wrote that day. Long after, when 
 he was letting me into all the facts of his 
 life, he told me that he had made my re- 
 plying at once or not the turning-point 
 of his fate. If the post had brought him 
 nothing, he would have drowned himself 
 in the Liffey. 
 
 My second letter was the only sort of 
 letter that it could be, — an account of 
 my own conjectures about him, and of my 
 regret that I could see no probability of 
 my being of use to him, except in as far 
 as my experience of many troubles might 
 enable me to speak suitably to him. I 
 added some few words on the dangers 
 attending any sort of trouble, when too 
 keenly felt. 
 
 In answer to ;ny first note came a few 
 lines, telling me that the purpose of his 
 application was mainly answered, and 
 that my reply was of altogether greater 
 consequence than I could have any idea 
 of. He was less unhappy now, and be- 
 lieved he should never be so desperately 
 wretched again. Wild as this might ap- 
 pear, I was still persuaded that he was 
 not insane. 
 
 By the next post came a rather bulky 
 
338 
 
 The Young Repealer, 
 
 [September, 
 
 packet. It contained, besides a letter 
 from him, two or three old parchment 
 documents, which showed that Patrick's 
 forefathers had filled some chief munici- 
 pal offices in the city in which the fam- 
 ily had been settled for several genera- 
 tions. I had divined that Patrick was a 
 gentleman ; and he now showed me that 
 he came of a good and honorable fami- 
 ly, and had been well-educated. He was 
 an orphan, and had not a relation in the 
 world, — if I remember right. It was 
 evident that he was poor; but he did 
 not ask for money, nor seem to write on 
 that account. He aspired to a literary 
 life, and believed he should have done 
 so, even if he had had the means of pro- 
 fessional education. But he did not ask 
 me for aid in trying his powers in litera- 
 ture. It was very perplexing ; and the 
 fact became presently clear that he ex- 
 pected me to tell him how I could be of 
 use to .him, — he being in no way able 
 to afford me that Information. I may as 
 well give here the key to the mystery, 
 which I had to wait for for some time. 
 When poor Patrick was in a desperate 
 condition, — very ill, in a lodging of 
 which he could not pay the rent, — 
 threatened with being turned into the 
 street as soon as the thing could be done 
 without danger to his life, — galled with 
 a sense of disgrace, and full of impotent 
 wrath against an oppressor, — and even 
 suffering under deeper griefs than these, 
 — at such a time, the worn man fell 
 asleep, and dreamed that I looked kindly 
 upon him. This happened three times ; 
 and on this ground, and this alone, he 
 applied to me for comfort. 
 
 Before I learned this much, I had 
 taken upon me to advise freely whatever 
 occurred to me as best, finding Patrick 
 entirely docile under my suggestions. 
 Among other things, I advised him not 
 to take offence, or assume any reserve, 
 if a gentleman should call on him, with 
 a desire to be of use to him. A gentle- 
 man did call, and was of eminent use 
 to him. I had written to a benevolent 
 friend of mine, a chief citizen of Dublin, 
 begging him to obtain for me, through 
 
 some trusty clerk or other messenger, 
 some information as to what Patrick was 
 like, — how old he was, what he was 
 doing, and whether anything effectual 
 could be done for him. Mr. H. went 
 himself He found Patrick sitting over 
 a little fire in a little room, his young' 
 face thin and flushed, and his thin hands 
 showing fever. He had had inflammation 
 of the lungs, and, though he talked cheer- 
 fully, he was yet very far from well. 
 Mr. H. was charmed with him. He 
 found in him no needless reserves, and 
 not so much sensitive pride as we had 
 feared. Patrick had great hopes of suf- 
 ficient employment, when once he could 
 get out and go and see about it; and 
 he pointed out two or three directions 
 in which he believed he could obtain 
 engagements. Two things, however, 
 were plain : that there was some diffi- 
 culty about getting out, and that his 
 mind was set upon going to London at 
 the first possible moment. He had not 
 only the ordinary provincial ambition to 
 achieve an entrance into the London 
 literary world, but he had another ob- 
 ject : he could serve his country best 
 in London. Mr. H. easily divined the 
 nature of the obstacle to his going out 
 into the fresh air which he needed so 
 much ; and in a few days Patrick had a 
 good suit of clothes. This was Mr. H.'s 
 doing ; and be also removed the danger 
 of Patrick's being turned out of his lodg- 
 ing. The landlord had no wish to do 
 such a thing ; the young man was a gen- 
 tleman, — regular and self-denying in his 
 habits, and giving no trouble that he 
 could help : but he had been very ill ; 
 and it was so desolate ! Nobody came 
 to see him; no letters arrived for him; 
 no money was coming in, it was clear ; 
 and he could not go on living there, — 
 starving, in fact. 
 
 Once able to go about again, Patrick 
 cheered up ; but it was plain that there 
 was one point on which he would not be 
 ruled. He would not stay in Dublin, 
 under any Inducement whatever; and 
 he would go to London. I wrote very 
 plainly to him about the risk he was 
 
1861.] 
 
 The Young Repealer, 
 
 339 
 
 running, — even describing the desolate 
 condition of the unsuccessful literary ad- 
 venturer in the dreary peopled wilder- 
 ness, in which the friendless may lie 
 down and die alone, as the starved ani- 
 mal lies down and perishes in the ravine 
 in the desert. I showed him how impos- 
 sible it was for me or anybody to help 
 him, except with a little money, till he 
 had shown what he could do ; and I en- 
 treated him to wait two years, — one 
 year, — six months, before rushing on 
 such a fate. Here, and here alone, he 
 was self-willed. At first he explained to 
 me that he had one piece of employment 
 to rely on. He was to be the London 
 correspondent of the Repeal organ in 
 Dublin,— the " Nation " newspaper. The 
 pay was next to nothing. He could not 
 live, ever so frugally, on four times the 
 amount : but It was an engagement ; and 
 it would enable him to serve his country. 
 So, as there was nothing else to be done, 
 Mr. H. started him for London, with 
 just money enough to carry him there. 
 Once there, he was sure he should do 
 very well. 
 
 I doubted this ; and he was met, at 
 the address he gave, (at an Irish green- 
 grocer's, the only person he knew in 
 London,) by an order for money enough 
 to carry him over two or three weeks, 
 — money given by two or three friends 
 to whom T ventured to open the case. I 
 have seldom read a happier letter than 
 Patrick's first from London ; but it was 
 not even then, nor for some time after, 
 that he told me the main reason of his 
 horror at remaining in Dublin. 
 
 He had hoped to support himself as a 
 tutor while studying and practising for 
 the literary profession ; and he had been 
 engaged to teach the children of a rich 
 citizen, — not only the boys, but the 
 daughter. He, an engaging youth of 
 three -and -twenty, with blue eyes and 
 golden hair, an Innocent and noble ex- 
 pression of countenance, an open heart, 
 a glowing imagination, and an eloquent 
 tongue, was set to teach Latin and litera- 
 ry composition to a pretty, warm-heart- 
 ed, romantic girl of twenty ; and when 
 
 they were in love and engaged, the fa- 
 ther considered himself the victim of the 
 basest treachery that ever man suffered 
 under. In vain the young people plead- 
 ed for leave to love and wait till Patrick 
 could provide a home for his wife. They 
 asked no favor but to be let alone. Pat- 
 rick's family was as good as hers ; and 
 he had the education and manners of a 
 gentleman, without any objectionable 
 habits or tastes, but with every possi- 
 ble desire to win an honorable home for 
 his beloved. I am not sure, but I think 
 there was a moment when they thought 
 of eloping some day, if nothing but the 
 paternal displeasure Intervened between 
 them and happiness ; but it was not yet 
 time for this. There was much to be 
 done first. What the father did first was 
 to turn Patrick out of the house, under 
 such circumstances of ignominy as he 
 could devise. What he did next was the 
 blow which broke the poor fellow down. 
 Patrick had written a letter, in answer 
 to the treatment he had received, in 
 which he expressed his feelings as strong- 
 ly as one might expect. This letter was 
 made the ground of a complaint at the 
 police-office ; and Patrick was arrested, 
 marched before the magistrate, and ar- 
 raigned as the sender of a threatening 
 letter to a citizen. In vain he protested 
 that no idea of threatening anybody had 
 been in his mind. The letter, as com- 
 mented on by his employer, was pro- 
 nounced sufficiently menacing to justify 
 his being bound over to keep the peace 
 towards this citizen and all his family. 
 The intention was, no doubt, to disgrace 
 him, and put him out of the question as 
 a suitor ; for no man could pretend to be 
 really afraid of violence from a candid 
 youth like Patrick, who loved the daugh- 
 ter too well to lift a finger against any 
 one connected with her. The scheme 
 succeeded ; for he believed it had broken 
 his heart. He supposed himself utterly 
 disgraced in Dublin ; and he could live 
 there no longer. Hence his self-will 
 about going to London. 
 
 In addition to this personal, there was 
 a patriotic view. Very early in our cor- 
 
340 
 
 The Young Repealer, 
 
 [September, 
 
 respondence, Patrick told me that he was 
 a Repealer. He fancied himself a very 
 moderate one, and likely on that account 
 to do the more good. Those were the days 
 of O'Connell's greatest power ; or, if it 
 was on the wane, no one yet recognized 
 any change. Patrick knew one of the 
 younger O'Connells, and had been flat- 
 teringly noticed by the great Dan him- 
 self, who had approved the idea of his 
 going to London, hoped to see him there 
 some day, and had prophesied that this 
 young friend of his would do great things 
 for the cause by his pen, and be con- 
 spicuous among the saviours of Ireland. 
 Patrick's head was not quite turned by 
 this ; and he lamented, in his letters to 
 me, the plans proposed and the language 
 held by the common run of O'Connell's 
 followers. Those were the days when 
 the Catholic peasantry believed that " Re- 
 pale " would make every man the owner 
 of the land he lived on, or of that which 
 he wished to live on ; and the great Dan 
 did not disabuse them. Those were the 
 days when poor men believed that " Re- 
 pale " would release every one from the 
 debts he owed ; and Dan did not contra- 
 dict it. When Dan was dead, the conse- 
 quence of his not contradicting it was 
 that a literal -minded fellow here and 
 .there shot the creditor who asked for 
 payment of the coat, or the pig, or the 
 meal. For all this delusion Patrick was 
 sorry. He was sorry to hear Protestant 
 shopmen wishing for the day when Dub- 
 hn streets would be knee-deep in Catho- 
 lic blood, and to hear Cathohc shopmen 
 reciprocating the wish in regard to Prot- 
 estant blood. He was anxious to make 
 me understand that he had no such no- 
 tions, and that he even thought O'Con- 
 nell mistaken in appearing to counte- 
 nance such mistakes. But still he, Pat- 
 rick, was a Repealer ; and he wished me 
 to know precisely what he meant by that, 
 and what he proposed to do in conse- 
 quence. He thought it a sin and shame 
 that Ireland should be trodden under the 
 heel of the Saxon ; he thought the domi- 
 nation of the English Parliament intoler- 
 able ; he considered it just that the Irish 
 
 should make their own laws, own their 
 own soil, and manage their own affairs. 
 He had no wish to bring in the French, or 
 any other enemy of England ; and he was 
 fully disposed to be loyal to the Crown, 
 if the Crown would let Ireland entirely 
 alone. Even the constant persecution 
 inflicted upon Ireland had not destroyed 
 his loyalty to the Crown. Such were the 
 views on which his letters to the "Na- 
 tion" newspaper were to be grounded. 
 In reply, I contented myself with pro- 
 posing that he should make sure of his 
 ground as he went along ; for which pur- 
 pose he should ascertain what proportion 
 of the people of Ireland wished for a re- 
 peal of the Union ; and what sort of peo- 
 ple they were who desired Repeal on the 
 one hand, or continued Union on the oth- 
 er. I hoped he would satisfy himself as 
 to what Repeal could and could not ef- 
 fect ; and that he would study the history 
 of Irish Parliaments, to learn what the 
 character and bearing of their legislation 
 had been, and to estimate the chances of 
 good government by that kind of legisla- 
 ture, in comparison with the Imperial 
 Parliament. 
 
 If any foreign reader should suppose 
 it impossible, that, in modern times, there 
 can have been hopes entertained in Dub- 
 lin of the streets being inundated with 
 blood, such reader may be referred to 
 the evidence afforded of Repeal senti- 
 ment five years later than the time of 
 which I write. When the heroes of that 
 rising of 1848 — of whom John Mitchell 
 is the sample best known in America — 
 were tracked in their plans and devices, 
 it appeared what their proposed methods 
 of warfare were. Some of these, detail- 
 ed in Repeal newspapers, and copied in- 
 to American journals, were proposed to 
 the patriotic women of Ireland, as their 
 peculiar means of serving their coun- 
 try ; and three especially. Red-hot iron 
 hoops, my readers may remember, were 
 to be cast down from balconies, so as 
 to pin the arms of English soldiers 
 marching in the street, and scorch their 
 hearts. Vitriol was to be flung into their 
 eyes. Boiling oil was to be poured up- 
 
1861.] 
 
 The Young Repealer, 
 
 341 
 
 on them from windows. This is enough. 
 Nobody believes that the thing would ev- 
 er have been done ; but the lively and 
 repeated discussion of it shows how the 
 feelings of the ignorant are perverted, 
 and the passions of party-men are stimu- 
 lated in Ireland, when unscrupulous lead- 
 ers arise, proposing irrational projects. 
 The consequences have been seen in 
 Popish and Protestant fights in Ulster, 
 and in the midnight drill of Phoenix 
 Clubs in Munster, and in John Mitchell's 
 passion for fat negroes in the Slave States 
 of America. In Ireland such notions are 
 regarded now as a delirious dream, ex- 
 cept by a John Mitchell here and there. 
 Smith O'Brien himself declares that there 
 is nothing to be done while the people 
 of Ireland are satisfied with the govern- 
 ment they live under ; and that, if it were 
 otherwise, nothing can be done for a peo- 
 ple which either elects jobbers to Parlia- 
 ment, or suspects every man of being a 
 traitor who proceeds, when there, to do 
 the business of his function. I suspect- 
 ed that Patrick would find out some of 
 these things for himself in London ; and 
 I left him to make his own discoveries, 
 when I had pointed out one or two paths 
 of inquiry. 
 
 The process was a more rapid one than 
 I had anticipated. He reported his first 
 letter to the " Nation " with great satis- 
 faction. He had begun his work in Lon- 
 don. He went to the House of Com- 
 mons, and came away sorely perplexed. 
 After having heard and written so much 
 of the wrongs of Ireland under the dom- 
 ination of the English Parliament, he 
 found that Ireland actually and practi- 
 cally formed a part of that Parliament, — 
 the legislature being, not English, but 
 Imperial. He must have known this be- 
 fore ; but he had never felt it. He now 
 saw that Ireland was as well represented 
 as England or Scotland ; that political 
 offices were held in fair proportion by 
 Irishmen ; and that the Irish members 
 engrossed much more than a fair share 
 of the national time in debate and proj- 
 ects of legislation. He saw at once that 
 here was an end of all excuse for talk of 
 
 oppression by Parliament, and of all 
 complaints which assumed that Ireland 
 was unrepresented. He was previously 
 aware that Ireland was more lightly tax- 
 ed than the rest of the empire. The 
 question remained, whether a local legis- 
 lature would or would not be a better 
 thing than a share in the Imperial Par- 
 liament. This was a fair subject of ar- 
 gument ; but he must now dismiss all no- 
 tions grounded on the mistake of Ireland 
 being unrepresented, and oppressed by 
 the representatives of other people. 
 
 In the letter which disclosed these new 
 views Patrick reported his visit to O'- 
 Connell. He had reminded Lis friend, 
 the junior O' Council, of Dan's invitation 
 to him to go to see him in London ; and 
 he had looked forward to their levee with 
 delight and expectation. Whether he had 
 candidly expressed his thoughts about 
 the actual representation of Ireland, I 
 don't know ; but it was plain that he had 
 not much enjoyed the interview. O'Con- 
 nell looked very well : the levee was 
 crowded : O'Connell was surrounded by 
 ardent patriots : the junior O'Connell 
 had led Patrick up to his father with 
 particular kindness. Still, there was no 
 enthusiasm in the report ; and the next 
 letter showed the reason why. Patrick 
 could not understand O'Connell at alL 
 It was certain that Dan remembered 
 him; and he could not have forgotten 
 the encouragement he gave him to write 
 on behalf of his country; yet now he 
 was cold, even repellent in his man- 
 ner ; and he tried to pretend that he did 
 not know who Patrick was. What could 
 this mean ? 
 
 Again I trusted to Patrick's finding out 
 for himself what it meant. To be brief 
 about a phase of human experience which 
 has nothing new in it, Patrick presently 
 saw that the difficulty of governing Ire- 
 land by a local legislature and executive 
 is this : — that no man is tolerated from 
 the moment he can do more than talk. 
 Irish members under O'Connell's eye 
 were for the most part talkers only. 
 Then and since, every Irishman who 
 accepts the office so vehemently de- 
 
34!^ 
 
 The Young Repealer. 
 
 [September, 
 
 manded is suspected of a good under- 
 standing with Englishmen, and soon be- 
 comes reviled as a traitor and plaee- 
 liunter. Between the mere talkers and 
 the proscribed office-holders, Ireland 
 would get none of her business done, 
 if the Imperial Government did not un- 
 dertake affairs, and see that Ireland was 
 taken care of by somebody or other. Pat- 
 rick saw that this way of putting Gov- 
 ernment in abeyance was a mild copy 
 of what happened when a Parliament 
 sat in Dublin, perpetrating the most in- 
 solent tyranny and the vilest jobs ever 
 witnessed under any representative sys- 
 tem. He told me, very simply, that the 
 people of Ireland should send to Parlia- 
 ment men whom they could trust, and 
 should trust them to act when there : the 
 people should either demand a share of 
 office for their countrymen, or make up 
 their minds to go without; they ought 
 not first to demand office for Irishmen, 
 and then call every Irishman a traitor 
 and self-seeker who took it. In a very 
 short time he told me that he found he 
 had much to unlearn as well as learn : 
 that many things of which he had been 
 most sure now turned out to be mistakes, 
 and many very plain matters to be exceed- 
 ingly complicated; but that the one thing 
 about which there could be no mistake 
 "was, that, in such a state of opinion, he 
 was no proper guide for the readers of 
 the " Nation," and he had accordingly 
 sent in his resignation of his appoint- 
 ment, together with some notices to the 
 editor of the different light in which Irish 
 matters appear outside the atmosphere of 
 Kepeal meetings. 
 
 In thus cutting loose from his only means 
 of pecuniary support, Patrick forfeited al- 
 so his patriotic character. He was as thor- 
 oughly ruined in the eyes of Repealers 
 as if he had denounced the " Saxon " one 
 hour and the next crept into some warm 
 place in the Custom-House on his knees. 
 p Here ended poor Patrick's short politi- 
 cal life, after, I think, two letters to the 
 *' Nation," and here ended all hope of 
 aid from his countrymen in London. His 
 letter was very moving. He knew him- 
 
 self to be mortified by O'Connell's be- 
 havior to him ; but he felt that he could 
 not submit to be regarded with suspicion 
 because he had come to see for himself 
 how matters stood. He did not give up 
 Repeal yet: he only wanted to study 
 the case on better knowledge ; and in 
 order to have a perfectly clear con- 
 science and judgment, he gave up his 
 only pecuniary resource, — his love and 
 a future home being in the distance, and 
 always in view, all the time. Here, in 
 spite of some lingering of old hopes, two 
 scenes of his young hfe had closed. His 
 Irish life was over, and his hope of politi- 
 cal service. 
 
 I had before written about him to two 
 or three literary friends in London ; and 
 now I felt bound to see what could be 
 done in opening a way for him. He had 
 obtained the insertion of a tale in a mag- 
 azine, for which he had one guinea in 
 payment. This raised his spirits, and 
 gave him a hope of itidependence ; for it 
 was a parting of the clouds, and there 
 was no saying how much sunlight might 
 be let down. He was willing to apply 
 himself to any drudgery ; but his care to 
 undertake nothing that he was not sure 
 of doing well was very striking. He 
 might have obtained good work as classi- 
 cal proof-corrector; but he feared, that, 
 though his classical attainments were 
 good, his training had not qualified him 
 for the necessary accuracy. He had 
 some employment of the sort, if I re- 
 member right, which defrayed a portion 
 of his small expenses. His expenses were 
 indeed small. He told me all his little 
 gains and his weekly outlay ; and I Avas 
 really afraid that he did not allow him- 
 self sufficient food. Yet he knew that 
 there was a little money in my hands, 
 when he wanted it. His letters became 
 now very gay in spirits. He keenly rel- 
 ished the society into which he was in- 
 vited ; and, on the other hand, every- 
 body liked him. It was amusing to me, 
 in my sick room, three hundred miles off, 
 to hear of the impression he made, with 
 his innocence, his fresh delight in his 
 new life, his candor, his modesty, and his 
 
1861.] 
 
 The Young Repealer, 
 
 343 
 
 bright cleverness, — and then, again, to 
 learn how diligently he had set about 
 learning what I, his correspondent, was 
 really like. In his dreams he had seen 
 me very aged, — he thought upwards of 
 ■eighty ; and he had never doubted of the 
 fact being so. In one letter he told me, 
 that, finding a brother of mine was then 
 in London, he was going that afternoon 
 to a public meeting to see him, in order to 
 have some idea of my aspect. A mutual 
 friend told me afterwards that Patrick had 
 come away quite bewildered and disap- 
 pointed. He had expected to see in my 
 brother a gray-haired ancient; whereas 
 he found a man under forty. I really be- 
 lieve he was disturbed that his dreams 
 had misled him. Yet I never observed 
 any other sign of superstition in him. 
 
 At last the happy day came when he 
 had a literary task worthy of him, — a 
 sort of test of his capacity for reviewing. 
 One of the friends to whom I had intro- 
 duced him was then sub-editor of the 
 " Athenaeum," — a weekly periodical of 
 higher reputation at that time than now. 
 Patrick was commissioned to review a 
 book of some weight and consequence, — 
 Sir Robert Kane's " Industrial Resources 
 of Ireland," — and he did it so well that 
 the conductors hoped to give him a good 
 deal of employment. What they gave 
 him would have led to more ; and thus he 
 really was justified in his exultation at 
 having come to London. I remember, 
 that, in the midst of his joy, he startled 
 me by some light mention of his having 
 spit blood, after catching cold, — a thing 
 which had happened before in Ireland. 
 In answer to my inquiries, my friends 
 told me that he certainly looked very 
 delicate, but made light of it. It hap- 
 pened, unfortunately, that he was obliged 
 just then to change his lodging. He in- 
 creased his cold by going about in bad 
 weather to look for another. He found 
 one, however, and settled himself, in 
 hope of doing great things there. 
 
 He had not been there a week before 
 he rang his bell one day, and was found 
 bleeding from the lungs. His landlady 
 called in a physician ; and it is probable 
 
 that this gentleman did not know or sus- 
 pect the circumstances of his patient; 
 for he not only ordered ice and various 
 expensive things, but took fees, while the 
 poor patient was lying forbidden to speak, 
 and gnawed with anxiety as to where 
 more money was to come from, and with 
 eagerness to get to work. His friends 
 soon found him out in his trouble ; and I 
 understood from him afterwards, and from 
 others who knew more about it than he 
 did, that they were extremely kind. I be- 
 lieve that one left a bank-note of a con- 
 siderable amount at the door, in a blank 
 envelope. All charges were defrayed, 
 and he was bidden not to be anxious. 
 Yet something must be done. What 
 must it be ? 
 
 As soon as he was allowed to raise his 
 head from his pillow, he wrote me a note 
 in pencil ; and it afforded an opening for 
 discussing his affairs with him. He had 
 some impression of his life's being in dan- 
 ger; for it was now that he confided to 
 me the whole story of his attachment, and 
 the sufferings attending it: but he was 
 still sanguine about doing great things in 
 literature, and chafing at his unwilling 
 idleness. I was strongly of opinion that 
 the best way of dealing with him was to 
 be perfectly open ; and, after proposing 
 that we should have no reserves, I told 
 him what (proceeding on his own report 
 of his health) I should in his place decide 
 upon doing. His pride would cause him 
 some pain in either of the two courses 
 which were open to him, — but, I thought, 
 more in one than the other. If he re- 
 mained in his lodgings, he would break 
 his heart about being a burden (as he 
 would say) to his friends ; and he would 
 fret after work so as to give himself no 
 chance of such recovery as might be 
 hoped for : whereas, if he could once 
 cheerfully agree to enter a hospital, he 
 would have every chance of rallying, and 
 all the sooner for being free from any 
 painful sense of obligation. If the treat- 
 ment should succeed, this passage In his 
 life would be something to smile at here- 
 after, or to look back upon with sound 
 satisfaction ; and if not, he would have 
 
sa 
 
 The Young Repealer. 
 
 [September, 
 
 friends about him, just as he would in a 
 lodging. 
 
 The effect was what I wished. My let- 
 ter gave no offence, and did him no harm. 
 He only begged for a few days more, be- 
 fore deciding, that he might satisfy him- 
 self whether he was getting well or not : 
 if not, he would cheerfully go wherever 
 his friends advised, and believe that the 
 plan was the best for him. 
 
 In those few days arrangements were 
 made for his being received at the Sana- 
 torium, — an institution in which sick 
 persons who had either previously sub- 
 scribed, or who were the nominees of sub- 
 scribers, were received, and well tended 
 for a guinea a week, under the comfort- 
 able circumstances of a private house. 
 Each patient had a separate chamber ; 
 and the medical attendance, diet, and 
 arrangements were of a far higher order 
 than poor Patrick could have command- 
 ed in lodgings. Above all, the resident 
 surgeon — now a distinguished physician, 
 superintendent of a lunatic asylum — was 
 a man to make a friend of, — a man of 
 cultivated mind, tender heart, and cheer- 
 ful and gentle manners. Patrick won his 
 heart at once ; and every note of Pat: 'cic's 
 
 glowed with affection for Doctor H . 
 
 After a few weeks of alternating hope 
 and fear, after a natural series of fluctu- 
 ations of spirits, Patrick wrote me a re- 
 markably quiet letter. He told me that 
 both his doctors had given him a plain 
 answer to his question whether he could 
 recover. They had told him that it was 
 impossible ; but he could not learn from 
 them how long they thought he would 
 live. He saw now, however, that he must 
 give up his efforts to work. He believed 
 he could have worked a little : but per- 
 haps he was no judge ; and if he really 
 was dying, he could not be wrong in obey- 
 ing the directions of those who had the 
 care of him. Once afterwards he told 
 me that his physicians did not, he saw, 
 expect him to live many months, — per- 
 haps not even many weeks. 
 
 It was now clear to my mind what 
 would please him best. I told him, that, 
 if he Uked to furnish me with the address 
 
 of that house in Dublin in which hj^ 
 thoughts chiefly lived, I would take care 
 that the young lady there should know 
 that he died in honor, having fairly en- 
 tered upon tlie literary career which had 
 always been his aspiration, and surround- 
 ed by friends whose friendship was a dis- 
 tinction. His words in reply were few, 
 calm, and fervent, intimating that he now 
 had not a care left in the world : and 
 Doctor H wondered what had hap- 
 pened to make him so gay from the hour 
 he received my letter. 
 
 His decline was a rapid one ; and I soon 
 learned, by very short notes, that he hard- 
 ly left his bed. When it was supposed 
 that he would never leave his room again, 
 he surprised the whole household by a 
 great feat. I should have related before 
 what a favorite he was with all the other 
 patients. He was the sunshine of the 
 house while able to get to the drawing- 
 room, and the pet of each invalid by the 
 chamber-fire. On Christmas morning, 
 he slipped out of bed, and managed to 
 get his clothes on, while alone, and was 
 met outside his own door, bent on giving 
 a Christmas greeting to everybody in the 
 house. He was indulged in this; for it 
 was of little consequence now what he 
 did. He appeared at each bedside, and 
 at every sofa, — and not with any moving 
 sentiment, but with genuine gayety. It 
 was full in his thoughts that he had not 
 many days to live, but he hoped the oth- 
 ers had ; and he entered into their pros- 
 pect of renewed health and activity. At 
 night they said that Patrick had brighten- 
 ed their Christmas Day. 
 
 He died very soon after, — sinking at 
 last with perfect consciousness, — writing 
 messages to me on his slate while his fin- 
 gers would hold the pencil, — calm and 
 cheerful without intermission. After his 
 death, when the last offices were to be 
 begun, my letters were taken warm from 
 his breast. Every line that I had ever 
 written to him was there ; and the packet 
 
 was sent to me by Doctor H bound 
 
 round with the green ribbon which he 
 had himself tied before he quite lost 
 the power. The kind friends who had 
 
1861.] 
 
 The Young Repealer. 
 
 345 
 
 Watched over him during the months of 
 his London life wrote to me not to trouble 
 myself about his funeral. They buried 
 him honorably, and two of his distinguish- 
 ed friends followed him to the grave. 
 
 Of course, I immediately performed 
 my promise. I had always intended that 
 not only the young lady, but her father, 
 should know what we thought of Patrick, 
 and what he might have been, if he had 
 lived. I wrote to that potential person- 
 age, telling him of all the facts of the 
 case, except the poverty, which might be 
 omitted as essentially a slight and tempo- 
 rary circumstance. I reported of his life 
 of industry and simple self-denial, — of his 
 prospects, his friendships, his sweet and 
 gay decline and departure, and his hon- 
 orable funeral. No answer was needed ; 
 and I had supposed there would hardly 
 be one. If there should be one, it was 
 not likely to be very congenial to the 
 mood of Patrick's friends : but I could 
 hardly have conceived of anything so 
 bad as it was. The man wrote that it 
 was not wonderful that any young man 
 should get on under the advantage of 
 my patronage ; and that it was to be 
 hoped that this young man would have 
 turned out more worthy of such patron- 
 age than he was when he ungratefully 
 returned his obligations to his employer 
 by engaging the affections of his daugh- 
 ter. The young man had caused great 
 trouble and anxiety to one who, now he 
 was dead, was willing to forgive him ; but 
 no circumstance could ever change the 
 aspect of his conduct, in regard to his 
 treacherous behavior to his benefactor; 
 and so forth. There was no sign of any 
 (jonsciousness of imprudence on the fa- 
 
 ther's own part; but strong indications 
 of vindictive hatred, softened in the ex- 
 pression by being mixed up with odious 
 flatteries to Patrick's literary friends. 
 The only compensation for the disgust 
 of this letter was the confirmation it af- 
 forded of Patrick's narrative, in which, 
 it was clear, he had done no injustice to 
 his oppressor. 
 
 I have not bestowed so much thought 
 as this on the man and his letter, from 
 the day I received it, till now ; but it was 
 necessary to speak of it at the close of 
 the story. I lose sight of the painful in- 
 cidents in thinking of Patrick himselfi 
 I only wish I had once seen his face, that 
 I might know how near the truth is the 
 image that I have formed of him. 
 
 There may have been, there no doubt 
 have been, other such young Irishmen, 
 whose lives have been misdirected for 
 want of the knowledge which Patrick 
 gained in good time by the accident of 
 his coming to England. I fear that many 
 such have lived a life of turbulence, or 
 impotent discontent, under the delusion 
 that their country was politically oppress- 
 ed. The mistake may now be considered 
 at an end. It is sufficiently understood 
 in Ireland that her woes have been from 
 social and not political causes, from the 
 day of Catholic emancipation. But it is 
 a painful thought what Patrick's short life 
 might have been, if he had remained un- 
 der the O'Connell influence ; and what 
 the lives of hundreds more have been,— 
 rendered wild by delusion, and wretched 
 by strife and lawlessness, for want of a 
 gleam of that clear daylight which made 
 a sound citizen of a passionate Young 
 Kepealer. 
 
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