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 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 FITZGERALD, 
 
 THOMAS MOORE, 
 
 PARIS, 
 
 BAUDRTS EUROPEAN LlRRARY, 
 
 HIT nr COQ, HEAR THE LOUVIU.. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT, RUE DE LA PAIX J TRUCHV , BOULEVARD DES ITALlESS j 
 
 HIKOP1ULF. r.ARROIS, JUN., RUE DE RICHELIEU ; I.IBRAIR1E DBS ETR ANGERS, 
 
 55, RUE NKIIVE SAINT-AI;GIFSTIN , AND FRENCH AMD ESGUSII LIDRARV , 
 
 RUE YIVIENNE. 
 
 1835.
 
 MRS. BEAUCLERK, 
 THIS MEMOIR 
 
 Cjrr JUuetrtous 
 
 IS . 
 
 WITH THE HOPE THAT IT MAY NOT ALTOGETHER 
 
 DISAPPOINT HER ENTHUSIASTIC FEELING 
 
 FOR HIS MEMORY , 
 
 INSCRIBED 
 BY HER OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL SERVANT , 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 2501363

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN order to guard against the suspicion of having been 
 influenced in my choice of the suhject of this work by any 
 view to its apt accordance with the political feeling of the 
 day, I think it right to state that the design of writing a 
 Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald had been taken up by me 
 some months before any of those events occurred which 
 have again given to the whole face of Europe so revolution- 
 ary an aspect. I question, indeed, whether this fear, lest 
 the public should mistake my object, and consider as meant 
 for the occasion what is intended as historical, w r ould not 
 have prevented me, were I now to chuse, from undertaking 
 such a work at such a juncture : but, having undertaken 
 and written it, I see no sufficient reason why I should 
 shrink from publishing it. 
 
 With respect to Ireland, her situation at present is, in 
 most respects, essentially different from that in which the 
 crisis commemorated in these pages found her. Of the two 
 great measures, Emancipation and Reform, the refusal of 
 which was the sole cause of the conspiracy here recorded , 
 one has already been granted, and with that free grace 
 which adds lustre even to justice, while the other is now in 
 triumphant progress towards the same noble and concilia- 
 tory result. That in the condition of Ireland there still re- 
 main grievances to be redressed and anomalies to be got 
 rid of, is too manifest to be questioned. But, instead of hav- 
 ing to contend, as in former times, with rulers pledged 
 against her interest by a system traditionally hostile to all 
 liberal principles, my country now sees in the seats of au- 
 thority men whose whole lives and opinions are a sufficient 
 security that , under their influence , better counsels will 
 prevail; and though the traces still left among us of our 
 " blind time of servitude l " are unfortunately too many and 
 too deep to be all at once obliterated, the honest intention 
 will not be wanting, on the part of our present rulers, and 
 a generous confidence in them will go far towards giving 
 the power. 
 
 1 ' ruit eniui illud quuddam ccecinn tempns servitntis." CICKRO.
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 That I have regarded the task of writing this Memoir as 
 one purely historical will appear, too strongly, 1 ap- 
 prehend, for the tastes of some persons, in the free and 
 abstract spirit with which I have here entered into the con- 
 sideration of certain rights and principles which, however 
 sacred and true in themselves, are in general advanced with 
 more reserve, when either applied, or capable of being ap- 
 plied, to any actually existing order of things. For the fears, 
 however, that can be awakened by the assertion, however 
 bold, of any great and incontrovertible political principle, 
 I am not inclined, I own, to feel much r.espect or pity; 
 well knowing that under such fears a consciousness of in- 
 justice, either done or meditated, is always sure to be found 
 lurking. Recollecting, too, from the history of both coun- 
 tries, for the last sixty years, how invariably and with what 
 instructive juxta-position of cause and effect, every alarm of 
 England for the integrity of her own power has been fol- 
 lowed by some long-denied boon to Ireland, I shall willingly 
 bear whatever odium may redound temporarily upon myself, 
 should any warning or alarm which this volume may con- 
 vey , have even the remotest share in inducing the people of 
 this country to consult, while there is yet time, their own 
 peace and safety by applying prompt and healing remedies 
 to the remaining grievances of Ireland. 
 
 In the portion of this work which relates to Lord Ed- 
 ward's private life, it may be thought, perhaps, that my 
 selections from his correspondence might have been more 
 sparing. But, besides that there is, in the simplicity and 
 warm-heartedness of these letters, a charm which cannot but 
 be attractive to most readers, every word they contain 
 answering so well to that description in Beaumont and 
 
 Fletcher, 
 
 7 
 
 There is no art in 'em , 
 They lie disorder'd in the paper just 
 As hearty nature speaks 'em, 
 
 the striking contrast which their tone of feeling presents 
 to the troubled course on which he afterwards entered, ap- 
 peared to me a source of interest too touching and singular 
 to be, from any critical fastidiousness } relinquished.
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 THERE is, perhaps, no name , in the ranks of the Irish peerage , 
 that has been so frequently and prominently connected with the po- 
 litical destinies of Ireland as that of the illustrious race to which the 
 subject of the following Memoir belonged, nor would it be too 
 much to say that , in the annals of the Geraldines alone , in the 
 immediate consequences of the first landing of Maurice Fitzgerald 
 in 1170, the fierce struggles, through so many centuries, of the 
 Desmonds and Rildares , fay turns instruments and rebels to the 
 cause of English ascendancy, and , lastly, in the awful events con- 
 nected with the death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald in 1798 , a com- 
 plete history of the fatal policy of England towards Ireland , through 
 a lapse of more than six centuries , may be found epitomized and 
 illustrated. 
 
 With the fate, indeed, of one of his gallant ancestors in the 
 reign of Henry VIII , the story of Lord Edward himself affords 
 but too many strong points of resemblance. Lord Thomas Fitz- 
 gerald , the son of the ninth Earl of Kildare , a youth described as 
 being of the most amiable disposition and manners, but inheriting 
 all his father's hatred to English domination , broke out , at length , 
 into open rebellion , and after scattering , for some time , dismay 
 among the loyal inhabitants of the Pale , was defeated , made pri- 
 soner, and, on the 2d of Februay, 1535 , beheaded at Tyburn * ; 
 
 ' His five ancles, too , shared his fate. " Three of these gentlemen," says Ho- 
 1 lushed , " were known to have crossed their nephew Thomas, to their power, in 
 his rebellion , and therefore were not occasioned to misdoubt any danger. But 
 such as in those days were enemies to their House incensed the King sore against 
 it , persuading him that he should never conquer Ireland so long as any Geraldines 
 breathed in ihc country."
 
 <? MEMOIRS i - 53. 
 
 thus, for the second time ', but unfortunately not the last, bring- 
 ing attainder on the princely blood of the Filzgeralds , by a rash , 
 no doubt, and miscalculating, but still noble thirst after national 
 independence. 
 
 When Ireland, after the long sleep of exhaustion and degra- 
 dation to which a code of tyranny unexampled in history had 
 doomed her, was again beginning to exhibit some stirrings of national 
 spirit, again was the noble name of Fitzgerald found foremost 
 among her defenders 5 and the Memorial addressed by the first 
 Duke of Leinster to George II , denouncing the political Primate . 
 Stone, as a "greedy churchman, investing himself with temporal 
 power, and affecting to be a second Wolsey in the state," marks 
 another of those chapters of Irish history in which all the charac- 
 teristic features of her misgovernment are brought together in their 
 most compendious shape. This honest Remonstrance concludes w ith 
 the following words : "Your Majesty's interest in the hearts of 
 your loyal subjects is likely to be affected by these arbitrary mea- 
 sures 5 as few care to represent their country in Parliament, where 
 a junta of two or three men disconcert every measure taken for 
 the good of the subject, or the cause of common liberty. Your Me- 
 morialist has nothing to ask of your Majesty, neither place , civil or 
 military, neither employment or preferment for himself or his 
 friends ; and begs leave to add that nothing but his duly to your 
 Majesty, and his natural hatred to such detestable monopoly, could 
 have induced your Memorialist to this presumption." 
 
 Of this public-spirited nobleman, who, in the year 1747. mar- 
 ried Emilia Mary, daughter of Charles , Duke of Richmond , the 
 subject of these pages , Lord Edward Fitzgerald , was the fifth son , 
 being born on the 15lh of October, 1763. In the year 1773, the 
 Duke of Leinster died , and not long after, Lord Edward's mother 
 became the wife of William Ogilvie , Esq. , a gentleman of an 
 ancient family in Scotland, being the representative of the first 
 holder, of that name, of the baronies of Milltoun and Achoynanie. 
 
 Soon after their marriage, Mr. Ogilvie and the Duchess of Leinsler 
 removed , with the greater part of her Grace's family, to Franco : 
 and the Duke of Richmond having lent them his house at Aubigny, 
 they resided for some time at that ancient seat. The care of the 
 little Edward's education, which had, before their departure from 
 Ireland, been intrusted chiefly to a private tutor of the name of 
 Lynch , was now taken by Mr. Ogilvie into his own hands ; and , as 
 the youth was , from the first , intended for the military profession. 
 
 1 The first Irish parliamentary attainder to be found in the Statute Book is 
 that of Gerald Fitzgerald , Earl of Kildare , iu the reign of Henry "VII. " for trea- 
 son, in company with one tfCotinor, besieging the Casile of Dublin."'
 
 i; 7 9 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1 
 
 to the studies connected with that pursuit his preceptor principally 
 directed his attention. Luckily, the tastes of the young learner coin- 
 cided with the destiny marked out for him , and , in all that related 
 to the science of Military Construction, the laying out of camps, 
 fortification, etc. he was early a student and proficient. 
 
 The following extract from a letter addressed by him to his mother 
 during her absence at Paris , will show what pleasure he took , at 
 that boyish age , in preparing himself for the profession he was des- 
 tined to : 
 
 "I have been very busy : I am now erecting a beautiful fortifi- 
 cation in the Orangery, and am quite delighted with it. I wish you 
 could see it; for I know you would think it very pretty. When it is 
 finished, I intend to put the cannons of both our ships upon it, and 
 to fire away. What is the pleasanlest of all , I laid it out all myself. 
 
 " I also look a very pretty survey of the fields round the Garonne, 
 and have (though I coloured it] made a very pretty plan; and 
 Mr. Ogilvie did not touch it hardly at all. I just coloured the bor- 
 ders of the fields, and left the inside while, which makes a very 
 good effect. I did all the trees in Indian ink. I have now tired you 
 pretty well by my boastings; but you know I have always rather a 
 good opinion of whatever I do." 
 
 The future politician breaks out in this letter as well as the soldier. 
 " I was delighted," he adds, " to see by the last Courier that Lord 
 North had been so attacked in the House of Commons , and that the 
 Opposition carried off every thing. I think he cannot hold out much 
 longer." 
 
 In the year 1779, the whole family left Aubigny for England, 
 where , soon after, the young Edward made his first experiment of 
 a military life in the Sussex militia , of which his uncle , the Duke of 
 Richmond, was Colonel. It was not long before he became a special 
 favourite of the Duke ; and Ihe knowledge he had acquired abroad 
 in Ihe art of castrametation had now, young as he was, an oppor- 
 tunity of displaying itself. An encampment being about to be formed 
 for the regiment , and those intrusted with the lask of pilching the 
 tents having proved themselves wholly ignorant of the matter, Lord 
 Edward, with the permission of his uncle, undertook to be their 
 instructor, and performed his part in this extemporaneous architec- 
 ture wilh so much adroilness as to excite general surprise. The fol- 
 lowing is his own account of the circumstance , in a letter to the 
 Duchess, dated from Berner Camp : "I have taken the first op- 
 portunity of giving you an account of your sweet dear boy ; and 
 that my letter may go down the better I write it without lines. 
 It began pretty straight and even , but I am afraid you will soon have 
 a zigzag line. I am , however, sure you will not perceive it , your eye
 
 8 MEMOIRS 1780. 
 
 \vill have gol so accustomed to the zigzag walks of Stoke '. Our camp 
 is very pleasant , though the ground is rough and bad ; but when we 
 have dressed it a little , it will be very beautiful. The Duke of Rich- 
 mond has been very busy, and has staid out all day with us ever 
 since we came to camp. He altered the ground , which was quite 
 wrongly marked out , and saw himself that it was right. Before he 
 let the men pitch, he left the pitching of his own company tome, 
 and I was not one inch wrong. I like what I have seen as yet of my 
 profession very much." 
 
 Pleased , however, as he was with this preliminary step to sol- 
 diership, it was not likely long to satisfy the ambition of a youth 
 wiio, as appears from all his letters, was burning with impatience 
 to be employed on some of those fields of active service which the 
 hostile relations of England had now opened in almost every quarter 
 of the world. A lieutenancy was accordingly procured for him in the 
 96th regiment of foot; and in the autumn of 1780 he joined his 
 regiment in Ireland , uncertain, as yet, and, of course, anxious 
 as to its ultimate destination. From Youghall he thus writes to his 
 mother, who was then residing in Kildare-street , Dublin : "We 
 arrived here on Saturday, after a very wet march from five in the 
 morning till four in the afternoon. I should have written to you then 
 had I been able ; but I had so much to do the minute I had got dry 
 things , in looking out for lodgings , in seeing the men settled , and 
 getting my baggage , that I may say I have not been off fool till 
 this moment. I am not , however, the least tired , though I marched 
 every step of the way, and almost every day's journey after Carlow 
 was twenty miles over rugged mountains. This is a very pleasant 
 quarter. 
 
 " I am lodged with Captain Giles , and like him better every day. 
 I hope I shall be in the transport with him. We have not yet heard 
 any thing about the transport, nor of our destination. There are 
 orders for three more regiments to prepare to go with us, and one 
 of cavalry ; which makes me think it cannot be to Gibraltar, and this 
 I am very glad of. 
 
 " There is to be a great assembly here to-night, and the misses 
 are all in a great hurry to show themselves off to the officers. I have 
 a great many civilities from the people here , not from the misses , 
 but gentlemen of the town, especially from both the Uniaeks; 
 and the youngest, whom you saw, offered me his house, and has 
 insisted on providing me with garden-stuff of all sorts from his 
 country-house when wo are to sail." 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Ogilvie , a few days later (November 9) , he 
 
 1 The scat of Lord George Lennox, where the DucLcss was then staying.
 
 i 7 8o. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 9 
 
 says : U I received your kind letter yesterday ; it gave me a great 
 deal of pleasure, and particularly so, when I found that your sen- 
 timents so perfectly agreed with mine. But indeed whatever mine 
 are , as well as any thing 1 have ever acquired , are mostly owing 
 to your affection for me , both in forming my principles and helping 
 my understanding -, for which the only return I can make is my 
 love for you ; and that I am sure you are perfectly convinced of. I 
 shall certainly follow your advice , and stick as close as possible to 
 Captain Giles, for I find him grow more friendly, if possible, to me 
 every day, as well as more anxious to improve iae as an officer." 
 
 This letter to Mr. Ogilvie thus concludes : "I wish we may sail 
 soon , though we hear nothing of it yet. If you do , pray write me 
 word. I have my dearest mother's picture now before me : how 
 obliged to you I am for it you cannot conceive. How happy should 
 I be to see her! yet how happy shall I be when we sail ! " 
 
 From the following extracts of a letter written in the same month , 
 it will be perceived with what zeal he already entered into the true 
 spirit of his profession, and, though so anxious for promotion, yet 
 preferred availing himself of the first opportunity of seeing active 
 service to any advancement that might, even for a short time, 
 withhold from him that advantage : 
 
 "I went from thence to Lord Shannon's, where 1 met Lady 
 Inchiquin, in the same old marron-coloured gown I saw her in 
 when we left Ireland; only, indeed, I must say (to give the devil 
 his due) that it was made up into a jacket and petticoat. Miss Sand- 
 ford was >\ ith her ; she is a charming girl, very pretty, with a great 
 cU'iil of wit, and very sensible and good-humoured; in short, if 
 I had had lime , I should have fallen desperately in love with her } 
 as it is. 1 am a little touched. Lady Inchiquin and she both go to 
 Dublin to-morrow. I don 1 ! know what sort of an account Lady Inchi- 
 quin will give of me, but I am sure Miss Sandford will give a very 
 good one. 
 
 We have heard nothing of our destination as yet; but I believe 
 we are to go with the Royals , who are in their transports ready 
 to sail for Cork. I wish we were gone. I hope when Lord Carlisle 
 comes over, Mr. Ogilvie and you won't forget to remind my brother 
 about a company. I hear Lord Buckinghamshire's is quite deserted '. 
 I suppose there is no chance of his being able to give me a company, 
 though I think my brother ought to have got any thing almost from 
 him. However, 1 do not wish to have one before we sail , as then I 
 
 1 The l;ite rejection of the Declaration of Irish Rights moved by Mr. Graltan 
 had tendered Loid liuckin^liauishirc^ .idminiMiatiou vei\ unpopular.
 
 10 MEMOIRS 1780. 
 
 should effect an exchange with some captain in America with greater 
 ease; for if a company were to hinder my going out , I should much 
 rather take my chance there. I dare say Lord Strathaven, by being 
 aide-de-camp, will get a majority sooner than I shall , though I may 
 deserve it better; and as my brother had the naming of one of the 
 aides-de-camp, and named Bury. I think if that is properly used, 
 it may be of some help towards my proposition. If I had been to 
 remain in Ireland , the situation of aide-de-camp would have been 
 a very good thing for me towards promotion , but not towards learn- 
 ing my business and being a good officer, which you know is my 
 great ambition." 
 
 The struggle w hich , in a preceding letter, he so naturally ex- 
 presses between his regrets at leaving those he loved, and his im- 
 patience for departure , is thus further dwelt upon : 
 
 " Youghall, December ad, 1780. 
 
 "DEA.R, DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 " I cannot express how much your letter affected me. The only 
 thing that could put me in spirits w;-s a report that the transports 
 were come into Cove. How odd are these feelings , and how strange 
 must such sentiments appear to you, dear mother, who are the only 
 person I have mentioned them to! I believe Mr. Ogilvie understands 
 them ; he is the only person besides yourself I could mention them 
 to; so pray show this letter to nobody but him. How happy am I 
 to have two people to whom I can thus express every sentiment of 
 my heart ! 
 
 "Do not think now, dear mother, that I am in low spirits : I am 
 still le plus gai and happiest in the regiment. I am very busy, and 
 have a great deal to do with my company, which , as the captain 
 does not mind it much , is not a very good one , and I have taken 
 it into my head that I can make it better. You will think me very 
 conceited , but I depend greatly upon Captain Giles's instructions. I 
 follow him very much , and he has been of the greatest service to 
 me. I think by the lime I have served a campaign or two with 
 him , I shall be a pretty good officer. I like my duty every day 
 better and better , and you know (hat is one great step towards know- 
 ing it well. 
 
 "Believe me, dearest mother, etc. , etc." 
 
 In the Army List for 1782, Lord Edward's exchange from his 
 first regiment into the 19th is set down as having taken place Sep- 
 tember 20th, 1780. But the following extract from a letter to the
 
 i 7 8i. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. II 
 
 Duchess, daled January 22(1, 1781, will show thai, at the lime 
 when it was written , this exchange had not yet been effected : 
 
 ***** * 
 
 " As to that part where he desires me to ask leave for an exchange 
 into the 19lh , as I told Mr. Ogilvie before , it is impossible for me 
 to get such an exchange except with the captain-lieutenants; and 
 even of (hat now I have no hopes , for most likely the additional 
 company will not go in the regiment. Now, suppose, instead of 
 asking leave to gel an exchange into the 10th . 1 were only to ask 
 to be permitted to go out with that regiment to wherever they are 
 destined , and there to be appointed to serve in some capacity or 
 other ; as I own His Majesty's late promise has only given me a still 
 greater desire to serve abroad j and even promotion would be unac- 
 ceptable if it kepi me at home , and deprived me of that pleasure. 
 I do not think it unlikely but that the Foudroyant may convoy us, 
 as we shall have , I believe , the grand fleet till we get out of the 
 Channel. Some people now say that we are going to the East Indies. 
 I wish it may be, if we do we shall come back as rich as nabobs, and 
 I suppose I shall have some commissions for the Black Rock. So 
 believe me " "Yours, 
 
 "EDWARD FITZGERALD." 
 
 In a short lime after the above was written, his exchange into the 
 19lh musl have been effected, as we find him writing thus to his 
 mother, on the 14th of February, 1781 : 
 
 >f ***** 
 
 " I have heard nothing more about my company, and musl say, 
 that if I do get it , it will not give me pleasure, as leaving the 19th 
 when going abroad, to lead the idle life of a recruiting-officer, does 
 not at all agree with the intentions I had when I took leave of 
 you ; and the pleasure of seeing you , dear molher, which you may 
 be sure is the greatest happiness to me in the world , \v ill slill not 
 be the same as it would have been after two or three campaigns in 
 America. " 
 
 It was not till the latter end of March, as appears by a letter 
 dated from on board the London transport , that he set sail for his 
 place of destination. He had been staying , for some days previous 
 to embarking, at Lord Shannon's seat at Castle Martyr, and was, 
 as the letter announces, to sail from Ihence in the course of three 
 hours , for the purpose of joining the other transports waiting at 
 Cork. 
 
 At the beginning of June . Lord Edward's regiment , and the two 
 others that sailed with it from Cork, landed at Charlestown. Their
 
 12 MEMOIRS 1781. 
 
 arrival at this crisis was an event most seasonable for Ihe relief of 
 the English forces acting in that quarter, who were, by Ihe late turn 
 of the campaign , placed in a situation of great difficulty. The corps 
 under Lord Rawdon's command at Charlestown having been found 
 hardly sufficient for the defence of that capital , he was unable , with 
 any degree of safety, to detach from his already inadequate force 
 such aid as , in more than one point , the perilous state of the pro- 
 vince required. Post after post had fallen into the hands of the 
 Americans, and the important fort called " Ninety-Six,'' which 
 had been for some time invested by General Greene , was now 
 also on the point of being lost for want of those succours which 
 the straitened means of Lord Rawdon prevented him from af- 
 fording. 
 
 In this juncture the three regiments from Ireland arrived , and 
 gave an entirely new aspect to the face of affairs. Though destined 
 originally to join Lord Cornwallis , they were , with a prompt sense 
 of the exigencies of the moment , placed , by the officer who had 
 the command of them , at the disposal of Lord Rawdon , and thus 
 enabled his Lordship , not only to relieve the garrison of Ninety- 
 Six , but also to follow up this impression with a degree of energy 
 and confidence, of which even his enterprising gallantry would 
 have been without such aid incapable. It was , indeed , supposed 
 that the American general was not a little influenced in his move- 
 ments by the intelligence which he had received , that the newly 
 arrived troops were " particularly full of ardour for an opportunity 
 of signalizing themselves." 
 
 That Lord Edward was among these impatient candidates for 
 distinction can little be doubted ; and it was but a short time after 
 their joining he had the good fortune to achieve a service which 
 was not only brilliant but useful , and brought him both honour 
 and reward. The 19th regiment, being posted in the neighbourhood 
 of a place called Monk's Corner, found itself menaced, one morning 
 at daybreak, with an attack from Colonel Lee, one of the ablest 
 and most enterprising of the American partisans. This officer having 
 made some demonstrations , at the head of his cavalry , in front of 
 the 19th, the colonel of that regiment ( ignorant, as it appears , of 
 the nature of American warfare), ordered a retreat ; a movement 
 wholly unnecessary, and rendered still more discreditable by the 
 unmilitary manner in which it was effected : all the baggage, sick, 
 medicines, and paymaster's chests being left in the rear of the 
 column of march , where they were liable to be captured by any 
 half-dozen stragglers. Fortunately, Lord Edward was upon the 
 rear-guard, covering the retreat of the regiment, and , by the firm 
 and determined countenance of his little parly, and their animated
 
 1781. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 13 
 
 lire, kept the American corps iti chock till he was able to break up 
 a small wooden bridge over a creek which separated him from his 
 pursuers , and which could not be crossed by the enemy without 
 making a long detour. Having secured safety so far. Lord Edward 
 reported the state of affairs to the colonel ; and , the disreputable 
 panic being thus put an end to , the regiment resumed its original 
 position. 
 
 Major Doyle, now General Sir John Doyle, an officer whom 
 but to name is to call up in the minds of all who have the happiness 
 of knowing him whatever is most estimable and amiable , both in 
 the soldier and the man , was , at this time , at the head of Lord 
 Rawdon's staff ; and to him , acting as adjutant-general , the official 
 report of the whole affair was made. Without delay he submitted it 
 to his noble chief, who was so pleased with this readiness of re- 
 source, in so young an officer, that he desired Major Doyle to write 
 instantly to Lord Edward in his name , and offer him the situation 
 of aide-de-camp on his staff. 
 
 This appointment was, in every respect , fortunate for the young 
 soldier, as , besides bringing him into near relations with a noble- 
 man so amiable , it placed him where he was enabled to gratify 
 his military tastes by seeing war carried on upon a larger and more 
 scientific scale, and, it may be added, under one of the very best 
 masters. He accordingly repaired to head-quarters, and from thence 
 accompanied Lord Rawdon in his rapid and successful movement 
 for the relief of Ninety-Six. 
 
 It was in the course of this expedition that Lord Edward exhibited, 
 or rather was detected in, a trait of personal courage . of that 
 purely adventurous kind which is seldom found but in romance , 
 and of which the following particulars have been related to me by 
 the distinguished person then acting as adjutant-general. 
 
 Among the varied duties which devolved upon me, as chief of 
 the staff, a most material one was obtaining intelligence. This was 
 effected partly by the employment of intelligent spies in various 
 directions, and partly by frequent reconnaissances ; which last 
 w ere not devoid of danger , from the superior knowledge of the 
 country possessed by the enemy. Upon these occasions I constantly 
 found Lord Edward by my side , with the permission of our noble 
 chief, who wished our young friend to see every thing connected 
 with real service. In fact the danger enhanced the value of the en- 
 terprise in the eyes of this brave young creature. In approaching 
 the position of Ninety-Six , the enemy's light troops in advance 
 became more numerous , and rendered more frequent patrols ne- 
 cessary upon our part. 
 
 1 was setting out upon a patrol, and sent to apprise Lord
 
 14 MEMOIRS 1781. 
 
 Edward } but he was no where to be found, and I proceeded with- 
 out him , when , at the end of two miles , upon emerging from the 
 forest, I found him engaged with two of the enemy's irregular 
 horse : he had wounded one of his opponents , when his sword 
 broke in the middle , and he must have soon fallen in the unequal 
 contest , had not his enemies fled on perceiving the head of my 
 column. I raled him most soundly, as you may imagine , for the 
 undisciplined act of leaving the camp, at so critical a time , without 
 the general's permission . He was , or pretended to be , very pe- 
 nitent, and compounded for my reporting him at the head-quarters 
 provided I would let him accompany me , in the hope of some other 
 enterprise. It was impossible to refuse the fellow, whose frank, 
 manly, and ingenious manner would have won over even a greater 
 tyrant than myself. In the course of the day we took some prisoners, 
 which I made him convey to head-quarters , with a Bellerophon 
 message, which he fairly delivered. Lord Moira gravely rebuked 
 him ; but I could never find that he lost much groiuid with his 
 chief for his chivalrous valour" 
 
 After the relief of Ninety-Six , Lord Rawdon , whose health had 
 suffered severely from the climate, found it advisable to return 
 to England , in consequence of which Lord Edward rejoined his 
 regiment. 
 
 The calm that succeeded Lord Rawdon's departure from South 
 Carolina , owing to the activity with which he had retrieved the 
 affairs of the royal forces , and thus established an equipoise of 
 strength between the two parties, could be expected, of course, 
 only to last till one of them had become powerful enough to 
 disturb it. Accordingly, in the autumn, General Greene , having 
 received reinforcements from another quarter, proceeded , with his 
 accustomed vigour , to resume offensive operations , and , by his 
 attack upon Colonel Stuart , at Eulaw Springs , gave rise to one of 
 the best fought actions that had occurred during the war. Though 
 the meed of victory, on this occasion , was left doubtful between 
 the claimants , that of honour is allowed to have been fairly the due 
 of both. So close , indeed , and desperate was the encounter , that 
 every officer engaged is said to have had , personally , and hand to 
 hand , an opportunity of distinguishing himself ; and Lord Edward, 
 who, we may take for granted, was among the foremost in the 
 strife , received a severe wound in the thigh , which left him insen- 
 sible on the field. 
 
 In this helpless situation he was found by a poor negro, who 
 carried him off on his back to his hut, and there nursed him most 
 tenderly, till he was well enough of his wound to bear removing to 
 Charlestown. This negro was no other than the u faithful Tony,"
 
 1781. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 15 
 
 whom in gratitude for the honest creature's kindness, he now took 
 into his service, and who continued devotedly attached to his noble 
 master to the end ofhis career. 
 
 It had been intended that Major Doyle , on the departure of Lord 
 Raw don, should resume the station he had before held on the staff 
 of Lord Cornwallis: but in consequence of this irruption of new 
 forces into the province, he was requested by General Goold, who 
 had succeeded to the chief command , still to continue to him the 
 aid of his local knowledge and experience , so as to avert the mis- 
 chiefs which a total want of confidence in most of the persons new ly 
 appointed to command now threatened. Major Doyle therefore again 
 look upon himself the duties of adjutant-general and public secre- 
 tary, and proceeded, vested with full powers, to the scene of the 
 late action , for the purpose both of ascertaining the true slate of 
 affairs , and of remedying the confusion into which Ihey had been 
 thrown. Here he found Lord Edward slowly recovering from his 
 wound , and the following is the account which he gives of his 
 young friend : ' ; I am not sure that he was not then acting as 
 aide-de-camp to Stuart, as the 19lh. 1 think, was not there. At 
 all events, he had been foremost in the melee, as usual, and re- 
 ceived a very severe wound in the thigh. At this same lime , Colonel 
 Washington . a distinguished officer of the enemy's cavalry, was 
 severely wounded and made prisoner ; and while I was making 
 preparations to send them dow n comfortably to Charlestow n , Lord 
 Edward . forgetting his ow n w ound , offered his services to take 
 charge of his gallant enemy. I saw him every day till he reco- 
 vered , about which time I was sent to England with the public 
 despatches. 11 
 
 To the notices of a part of his lordship's life , hitherto so little 
 known, it would be unjust not to add the few w r ords of comment, 
 as eloquently as they are cordially expressed , with which the gallant 
 w riter closes his communication to me on the subject : 
 
 * ; Of my lamented and ill-fated friend's excellent qualities I should 
 never lire in speaking. I never knew so loveable a person , and 
 every man in the army, from the general to the drummer, would 
 cheer the expression. His frank and open manner, his universal be- 
 nevolence , his gaiete de cceur, his valour almost chivalrous , and , 
 above all , his unassuming tone, made him the idol of all who served 
 with him. He had great animal spirits , which bore him up against 
 all fatigue -, but his courage was entirely independent of those spirits 
 it was a \alour sui generis. 
 
 u Had fortune happily placed him in a situation, however diffi- 
 cult . where lie could legititnatrly have brought those varied qua-
 
 I MEMOIKS I7 8t. 
 
 lilies into play, I am confident he would have proved a proud or- 
 nament to his country." 
 
 It may not perhaps , though anticipating a period so much later, 
 appear altogether ill-timed to mention in this place , that when Lord 
 Edward lay suffering under the fatal wounds of which he died in 
 1798 , a military man connected with government , who had known 
 him at this time in Charlestow n , happening to allude , during a visit 
 to him in prison , to the circumstances under which they had first 
 become acquainted , the gallant sufferer exclaimed "Ah! I was 
 wounded then in a very different cause; that was in fighting 
 against liberty this , in fighting/or it. v 
 
 It is indeed , not a little striking that there should have been en- 
 gaged at this time , on opposite sides , in America , two noble youths , 
 Lafayette and Lord Edward Fitzgerald , whose political principles 
 afterwards so entirely coincided ; and that , while one of them was 
 fated soon to become the victim of an unsuccessful assertion of these 
 principles , it has been the far brighter destiny of the other to con- 
 tribute, more than once, splendidly to their triumph. 
 
 After the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at York Town , w ith 
 which humiliating event the war on the continent of America may 
 be said to have closed , the scene of active operations between 
 England and her combined foes was transferred to the West Indies , 
 where, at the beginning of 1783, we find Lord Edward, on the 
 staff of General CTHara , at St. Lucia. The following are extracts of 
 letters written by him from this island : 
 
 " St Lucia, Feb. 4, 1785. 
 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " In my last , I believe , I told you Gen. O'Hara was to command 
 at Barbadoes ^ but affairs were altered , and we returned here to take 
 the command of this island, which I am very glad of, as, if any- 
 thing is to be done , it will be here , and in the mean lime we are 
 working hard at the fortifications , which was very necessary ; for 
 although we have had the island four years , yet , either by the igno- 
 rance or indolence of those in command , nothing has been done. I 
 am also of some use by lalking Franch. Gen. O'Hara pleases me more 
 every day, both in his public and private character. In his manner 
 of carrying on business he puts me very much in mind of dear 
 Mr. Ogilvie , particularly in that of not trusting what is lo be done 
 to others, but always seeing it done himself 5 and also in his ea- 
 gerness in all his works. We have unluckily three blockheads of en- 
 gineers (as they please to call themselves) , who are not of the least 
 assistance. 
 
 " I was over at Martinique the other day, with a flag of tru.-r
 
 T 7 83. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 17 
 
 with prisoners. It was a very pleasant jaunt. I staid there a week , 
 and received every civility possible from le Marquis de Bouille and 
 the rest of the officers , but met nobody I knew before. It is a much 
 finer island than any of ours , and much better peopled. St. Pierre , 
 the capital , is a very fine town , and full of amusements. I was at a 
 ball every night. The women are pretty ; dance and dress very well -, 
 and are, the French officers say, to use dear Robert's words, 
 vastly good-natured. When I went over first, they expected the 
 peace every day; but there came in a French frigate, called the 
 Venus , with accounts that the treaty was entirely broken off , both 
 with France and Spain , though settled with the Americans, and that 
 Monsieur d'Estaing was to be out immediately. We are anxious to 
 hear something about this affair, as the peace frightens every body. 
 "I hope, dearest mother, you will get me what I have so long 
 been troubling you about, and shall still persist in , which is a com- 
 pany in the guards. In that case I shall be able to see you , and not 
 trouble you with sending any thing here. I have now been four 
 years in the army ; but I need not mention ttiat , as it does not 
 entitle me to any thing. I only name the lime, as people have had 
 a company in less. In short , my dear mother, if you exert yourself, 
 I am sure you can do it. If there do not come troops here , I can 
 do nothing for myself. There are at present only four regiments 
 here in the West Indies ; so that I look to Europe for any promo- 
 tion I may have. If it were not possible to get the company in the 
 guards , I might get the rank of lieutenant-colonel by going to the 
 East Indies , which , as it seems to promise to be an active scene , I 
 should like extremely. I see by the newspapers, and have heard by 
 parade letters , that Lord Cornwallis is going to command there , 
 which , as I said before in one of my letters , would be a good op- 
 portunity.'' 
 
 " St. Lucia, March 3 , 1785. 
 
 " What would I not give to be with you , to comfort you , dearest 
 mother ! But I hope the peace will soon bring the long-wished for 
 time. Till then my dearest mother will not expect it. My profession 
 is that of a military man , and I should reproach myself hereafter if 
 I thought I lost any opportunity of improving myself in it , or did 
 not . at all times , do as much as lay in my power to merit the pro- 
 motion I am entitled to expect. Not that the idea of promotion should 
 enter into competition with the happiness of my dearest mother, if, 
 as I said before , I did not think my honour and character concerned. 
 I am of my brother's and Mr. Ogilvie's opinion concerning a lieu- 
 tenancy in the guards , and would not accept of one if given me for 
 nothing.
 
 18 MEMOIRS i 7 83. 
 
 " I am sorry to see my hopes of a company destroyed. The Duke 
 of Richmond , in saying that he did not like to ask a favour, is , I 
 think , wrong ; for, as a minister, he does not ask a favour, the 
 thing being in the gift of the ministry. It is I who receive the favour 
 from his majesty or his ministry. I shall , however, write to thank 
 him for having interested himself at all in my behalf, hoping that 
 ce qui est differs nest pas perdu. I think my dearest mother might 
 try Lord Shelbourne , who seems to have a great deal of interest at 
 present. As you , however, have no interest to give him in return , I 
 am afraid there is not much hope. If I cannot get this company, 
 what I mentioned in my letter of February is , I think , very prac- 
 ticable , and what I should like still belter, as giving me a better 
 opportunity of doing something for it ; for here there is nothing I 
 can possibly expect , except being taken by Monsieur d'Estaing , 
 who is expected out every day. We have no troops in the West 
 Indies , either to act or expect promotion with. 
 
 " My brother wishes me to come home next spring to settle about 
 my estate. I shall tell him that any arrangement he may make with 
 your consent I shall always attend to. I own, if I sell entirely, I 
 should feel afraid of myself; but , on the contrary, if I were to have 
 so much a year for it , I think I should get on more prudently. If it 
 could be settled so that I might have so much ready money, and so 
 much a year for my life , I should like it better. However, you may 
 be sure I shall approve of any thing you settle. As to going home , I 
 shall certainly not go home about it. 
 
 " I like the idea of going to Aubigny much , and am not like my 
 brother Charles in hating every thing French : on the contrary, I 
 have made a second trip to Martinique , where I spent a week very 
 pleasantly. I met there with a very agreeable young man , the Due 
 deCoigni's son, colonel of the regiment de Yiennois , who was in 
 England some time. I am to go to his chateau to spend some lime 
 with him whenever we meet in France. As he intends coming lo 
 England immediately at the peace , I shall have an opportunity of 
 making him known to you. I do assure you that when I go to Marti- 
 nique I am received as well, if possible better than I should be at the 
 peace. Believe me , 
 
 " Dear, dear Mother, etc., etc." 
 
 Not long after the date of the above extract , he returned lo Ire- 
 land, and, a dissolution of parliament having taken place in the 
 summer of this year, he was brought in by Ihe Duke of Leinster for 
 Ihe borough of Alhy. How insipid he found the life he was now 
 doomed lo lead, after Ihe stormy scenes in which he had been lately 
 engaged , appears from various passages of his letters at this time:
 
 i 7 S3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 19 
 
 -I have made,' 1 he says, in a letter from Carton (August 3), 
 " fifty attempts to write to you , but have as often failed , from want 
 of subject. Really a man must be a clever fellow who , after being a 
 week at Carton , and seeing nobody but Mr. and Mrs. B., can write 
 a letter. If you insist on letters, I must write you an account of my 
 American campaigns over again , as that is the only thing I remem- 
 ber. I am just now interrupted by the horrid parson ; and he can find 
 nothing to do but sit by my elbow." 
 
 Again , writing to his mother . who was then in England , he 
 says : 
 
 " Sept. i , i 7 83. 
 
 " I cannot give a good account of my studies , nor of Blackstone ; 
 but I hope my Black Rock scheme will help that also. You cannot 
 think , my dearest mother, how delighted I feel at your proof of love 
 for me in not going abroad ; as literally your being in Ireland is the 
 only thing that can make me happy in it. If it were not for you , I 
 really believe I should go join either the Turks or Russians ; for I 
 find, since you are gone , this home life very insipid." 
 
 For the two following years we are left wholly unprovided wilh 
 lhat only safe clue through the lesser details of life , which letters , 
 however otherwise unimportant, furnish. This chasm in his lord- 
 ship's correspondence with his family is thus , in a few words, in- 
 terestingly accounted for : " The interruption," says Mr. Ogilvie, 
 " in the correspondence for 1784 and 1785 arose from my beloved 
 Edward having spent these two years wilh his mother and me , prin- 
 cipally at Frescali , but partly in Dublin and partly also in London. 
 Hr was wilh us, indeed, wherever we went, and those were the hap- 
 piest years of any of our lives." 
 
 Being now anxious to improve, by a regular course of sludy, 
 >\ Imlpver praclical knowledge of his profession he had acquired , he 
 resolved to enler himself al Woolwich , and , at the beginning of 
 1786 , proceeded to England for thai purpose. 
 
 Young, ardent, and to a degree rare in man's nature affection- 
 ate , it was not likely that his heart should remain long unattached 
 among the beauties of the gay and brilliant circle he now moved in ; 
 and . accordingly, during his late stay in Dublin , he had become , as 
 he thoughl , deeply enamoured of Ihe Lady Catharine Mead , second 
 daughter of the Earl of Clanwilliam , who was , in five or six years 
 after, married to Lord Powerscourt. To this lady, under the name of 
 " Rale," he alludes in the following correspondence ; and , however 
 little thai class of fastidious readers who abound in the present day 
 may be inclined to relish the homely style and simple feeling of these
 
 20 MEMOIRS 1786. 
 
 lellers , there are many, I doubt not, for whom such unstudied do- 
 mestic effusions even independently of the insight they afford into 
 a mind destined to dare extraordinary things will have a more ge- 
 nuine charm , and awaken in them a far readier sympathy, than even 
 the most ingenious letters , dictated , not by the heart , but h'ead , and 
 meant evidently for more eyes than those to which they are addressed. 
 It is , besides , important , as involving even higher considera- 
 tions than that of justice to the character of the individual himself, 
 to show how gentle , generous, light-hearted , and affectionate was 
 by nature the disposition of him whom a deep sense of his coun- 
 try's wrongs at length drove into the van of desperate rebellion, 
 and brought , in the full prime of all his.noble qualities , to the 
 grave. 
 
 In few of his delineations of character is Shakspeare more true to 
 nature than in the picture of a warm , susceptible temperament , 
 which he has drawn in the young and melancholy Romeo ; melan- 
 choly, from the very vagueness of the wishes that haunt him , and 
 anticipating the passion before he has yet found the true object of it. 
 In something of the same stale of mind was Lord Edward , at this 
 period, under the persuasion that he had now formed a deep and un- 
 alterable attachment ; and the same sad and restless feelings were , as 
 the fallowing lellers prove , the result : 
 
 " 1786. 
 
 "MY DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 "I am much obliged to you for your dear affectionate letters; 
 they made me happier than you can imagine. You cannot think what 
 pleasure it gives me to hear from Ireland. My not writing to you was 
 entirely, as you say, because I depended upon Ogilvie , who, I am 
 sure , can give you a much belter account of me than I can of my- 
 self $ for I really forget every thing I do. Nothing interesls me 
 enough to make me remember it. I gel up in the morning hating 
 every thing, go out with an intention of calling on somebody, 
 and then with the first person I meet go any where , and stay any 
 time , without thinking the least what I am about , or enjoying the 
 least pleasure. By this means I have been constantly late for dinner 
 wherever I have dined. By the by, I have been engaged every day to 
 dinner somewhere or other since I came 5 so much so , thai , lill to- 
 day, Ogilvie and I have not had one quiet dinner together. We are , 
 however, to dine to-day tete a tete. But to return to my daily pro- 
 ceedings : from dinner somebody or other ( quite indifferent to me 
 who ) carries me to wherever I am asked , and there I slay lill morn- 
 ing , and come home to bed haling every thing as much as when I
 
 i 7 86. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 21 
 
 got up and went out. All this is , however, what I used to call a life 
 of pleasure. I have been at balls almost every night , and , as I said 
 before, always stay till morning. 
 
 1-4 Ogilvie has just been here , and read your letter ; he says he will 
 scold you ; he is in great good humour, but not at all soft or tender. 
 Dear fellow ! I shall be very sorry when he is gone. He calls here 
 every morning , and I find it the pleasantest part of the day. I make 
 him talk of Kale . whether he will or not 5 and indeed of you all. I 
 find, now I am away, I like you all better than I thought I did. I 
 am sorry to say I am quite tired of my friends in London . though 
 they have been as kind as possible. I go to Woolwich on Sunday. 
 
 ** + * * 
 
 tk I have not seen the Siddons yet, nor do I think I shall , as I go 
 out of town so soon. I never think of going to any thing pleasant my- 
 self; I am led to it by somebody. I depend entirely upon other peo- 
 ple , and then insensibly je ni amuse, but as for saying ' I will go 
 see this ,' or ' that it will be very pleasant ,' il ne m arrive jamais. 
 1 find 1 am writing a very foolish tiresome letter : pray do not show 
 it to any body. 
 
 "E. F." 
 
 " Woolwich, June 16, 1786. 
 
 ?-* I am as busy as ever : il is the only resource I have , for I have 
 no pleasure in any thing. I agree with you perfectly in trying to 
 drive away care ; I do all I can , but do not succeed. My natural 
 good spirits , however, and the hopes of some change , keep me up a 
 little. If I thought there was no hopes of the latter, I believe the other 
 would soon give way ; and I should be very unfit for this place , or 
 indeed any other, with an idea of doing any good ; for I should not 
 then care a pin about what happened me, either in fortune or per- 
 son ; at least so I think now, but I am determined to give myself as 
 long a trial as I can bear. This is all I can do , as long as I think this 
 way. I hope you will try and make me as happy as you can by giving 
 accounts in vour letters. 
 
 " You say Henry spends all the night with * * and her company. 
 1 suppose by that he goes on very well. I wish him success with all 
 my heart. The cottage parly will be delightful for him. Think of my 
 not being there ! I must comfort myself by hoping you all missed 
 me . and wished for me. Lady Clan will certainly have been there. 
 Are you upon your high horse with her, or are you gracious? I need 
 not say I hope you are kind to pretty dear Rale ; I am sure you are. 
 I \\ant you to like her almost as much as I do; it is a feeling I al- 
 u;\s liiivo with people I love excessively. Did you not feel to love 
 IUT very much, and wish for me. when you saw her look 'pretty at
 
 22 MEMOIRS 1786. 
 
 the collage? I Ihink I see you looking al her, and saying lo yourself, 
 ' I wish my dear Eddy was here.' One does not know how much one 
 loves people lill we find ourselves separated. But I am sure I must 
 grow stupid ; I write as if you were confined at Woolwich also , 
 and in Ihe same spirits as I am." 
 
 "July;, 1786. 
 
 "Now Ogilvie is gone, and that I cannot depend upon any body 
 to give you some account of me , I will do it myself. By the by, I 
 wish Tony could write. I have been up since before six, and it is 
 now near nine , and 1 have been hard at work in the laboratory pul- 
 verizing saltpetre ; so you may guess how dreadfully hungry I am. 
 You cannot conceive how odd the life I lead now appears lo me. I 
 must confess if I had le cceur content, I should like best the idle , 
 indolent one. Getting up between 11 and 12, breakfasting in one's 
 jacket sans souci , se fichant du monde , and totally careless and 
 thoughtless of every thing but the people one loves , is a very plea- 
 sant life , iljaut la dire. I would give a great deal for a lounge at 
 Frescali this morning. 
 
 " You cannot think how sorry I was to part with Ogilvie. I begin 
 lo find one has very few real friends , whatever number of agreeable 
 acquaintance one may have. Pray do not let Ogilvie spoil you ; I am 
 sure he will try, crying, 'Nonsense ! fool! fool! all imagination ! by 
 heavens ! you will be the ruin of thai boy.' My dear molher, if you 
 mind him , and do not write me pleasant letters , and always say 
 something of pretty Kate, I will nol answer your letters , nor indeed 
 write any to you. I believe if any thing can make me like writing 
 tellers, Woolwich will, for lo be here alone is most melancholy. 
 However, I like il better than London , and am not in such bad spi- 
 rits. I have nol time hardly. In my evening's walk, however, I am 
 as bad as ever. I believe, in my leller lo Henry, I lold him how I 
 passed my day ; so shall not begin again. You will see by thai what 
 my evening's walk is; but, upon my honour, I sometimes think of 
 you in it. 
 
 "I wish, my dear molher, you would insist on my coming lo 
 you } but stop if I go on Ihus thinking and writing, I shall be 
 very unfit for mortars, cannons , etc. So, love to every body God 
 bless you ! " 
 
 In the summer of this year, the Duke of Richmond , being called 
 away in his oflicial capacity, on a lour of inspeclion lo the islands 
 of Guernsey, Jersey, etc., took Lord Edward with him; and il will 
 be seen by the following letler that the young military sludenl was 
 not insensible of the value of those opportunities of instruction
 
 i : t. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 33 
 
 which such a survey, under circumstances so favourable to inquiry, 
 offered. 
 
 " St. Helier, July 5i , 1786. 
 
 "Mv DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 -We have been here five days, and are to slay two more, and 
 then go to Cherbourg. We have had as yet a very pleasant time. 1 
 have been in much belter spirits , every thing being new, and the 
 changes of scene having kept me from thinking so much. I shall get 
 a great deal of knowledge of a part of my profession by this tour ; 
 for the Duke goes about looking at all the strong posts , and I have 
 an opportunity of hearing him and Colonel Moncrief talk the matter 
 all over. The Duke and he are at present employed in fixing some 
 works that are to be built, and chusing some positions in case of an 
 attack. The whole tour has been a kind of military survey. I shall 
 be glad to see Cherbourg , as it certainly will be hereafter a very 
 famous place, by the works that are erecting there. We go from 
 thence to Havre for Madame de Cambise. 
 
 " DonH you think I may come home after this tour? I begin now, 
 my dearest mother, to wish much to see you ; besides I think that , 
 after all this , I could do a great deal of good at Black Rock with 
 Mr. Ogilvie , as my mind has really taken a turn for business. 
 Thinking of Kate disturbs me more than seeing her would do. I do 
 really love her more , if possible , than when I left you. Have you 
 seen her lately at any thing ? I always feel happy w hen I think you 
 have seen her 5 because it must put her in mind of me. Have you 
 seen the presents yet? Guilford waited till he got some also for Lady 
 Anne , that she might not be jealous , and that the thing might be 
 less suspicious. Rate herself thinks thai it is Guilford that gives them 
 her. I made Guilford promise not to say I gave them , for fear she 
 should not take them. I must come home ; really, my dearest mo- 
 ther, it is the only chance I have against la dragonne; for you 
 see by her speech to Ogilvie , she will do all she can to make Kale 
 forget me. 
 
 -Do not be afraid that 1 shall do no good in Ireland : you know 
 when I have a mind to study, I never do so much good as when I 
 am with Ogilvie. I could go over all my mathematics ( which is the 
 most useful thing I could do ) , much better there w ilh him than 
 here with any body else. I know Ogilvie will be against my coming ; 
 but no matter, you will be glad to have me on any terms , and I 
 am never so happy as when with you , dearest mother ; you seem 
 to make every distress lighter, and I bear every thing better, and 
 enjoy every thing more when with you. I must not grow seuti-
 
 24 MEMOIRS 1786. 
 
 mental ; so good b'ye , dearest of mothers. No one can love you 
 more than, etc." 
 
 " Goodwood, August 8, 1786. 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " We arrived here the day before yesterday. Our tour has been 
 shorter than at first intended. We came last from the island of Sark, 
 which we meant only to visit in our way to Alderney, where we 
 were to part with the Duchess , who was to sail for England in a 
 small vessel we had with us ; while the Duke and the rest of us went 
 in a yacht to Cherbourg ; but the wind came on so strong , the Duke 
 was afraid to let the Duchess go in the small vessel, and thought it 
 better to return with her ; I never was so disappointed in my life , 
 I had set my heart on seeing Cherbourg with the Duke and Colonel 
 Moncrief. The Duke goes to London to-day, slays there a few days , 
 then goes to Portsmouth , from whence he sails to bring Madame de 
 Cambise. I had intended , during the time he was doing all this , to 
 go to Moncrief at Portsmouth ; but alas ! walking yesterday even- 
 ing , I sprained my ancle violently, and am not able to stir : I am 
 afraid I shall be laid up for a week or ten days , at least. I do think , 
 what with legs and other things, I am the most unlucky dog that 
 ever was. However, I intend to make the best of my misfortune , 
 and take the opportunity of beginning a course of mechanics with 
 Mr. Baly : the Duke and he both say that if I apply hard , in the 
 course of three months I should have a pretty tolerable knowledge of 
 them. Mr. Baly says , to do it properly, I should go over again some 
 of my Euclid and algebra , both of which, I am ashamed to say, I 
 have pretty nearly forgot. I wish I had my books here , they would 
 be of great use to me now. 
 
 " What do you think of this scheme, is it practicable for me? do 
 you think I have resolution or application enough to give the atten- 
 tion that will be necessary? Stoke is within three miles Very tempt- 
 ing ; this place will be by and by full of company ; the shooting will 
 be going on : all these things may draw me off, je suis foible j 
 the Duke himself may, perhaps, be going about , and will wish me 
 to follow him : I never do good in that way. Let me know what you 
 advise. I find every day that the knowledge of mathematics is 
 absolutely necessary in every thing that an officer should know ; 
 and as I have a good foundation , it is a pity I should not improve 
 it. If I have resolution to apply , this is a good and pleasant op- 
 portunity ; but I am doubtful of myself. In turning all this over in 
 my head , a scheme has occurred to me , which I know would be 
 the best thing in the world for me , could I but put it in execution ; 
 but then it requires a great effort. You know T have from tlw
 
 i 7 86. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 25 
 
 latter end of August till January, when the parliament meets, four 
 months ; what do you think of my spending that time'at some uni- 
 versity in Scotland? it certainly is the best place for the branch of 
 learning I want ; there I should not be so easily drawn off ; I should 
 have my masters cheap, live cheap, and be able to give my whole 
 mind to the business. But I cannot bear the thoughts of seeing none 
 of you for four months ; and then , Kate I do not know what to do 
 pray write and advise me. 
 
 " You say in your letter that Lady Clariwilliam goes to the country 
 for the autumn ; if she goes to the north , how pleasant ! I might 
 then be with dearest Harry, and see her very often. It is now three 
 months since I have seen you , dearest mother, and four more is a 
 great while. Jf you go abroad, I go with you, I am determined, 
 and stay with you till the parliament meets. I hope Henry will come 
 too, I long to see him. What becomes of dear Robert? I hate miss- 
 ing him ; I wish he would come here. 
 
 " I hope you got my letters safe from Guernsey and Jersey; I got 
 two of your dear letters here ; how happy they made me ! but you 
 said very little of pretty Rate : I do not think you like her enough , 
 my dearest mother ; I want you to love her as much as I do. Pray 
 tell me really what you think of her? yet I am afraid , but no 
 matter, speak ! if you should find fault, but it is impossible, you 
 must, love her. Show the sensible part of this letter to Mr. Ogilvie, 
 but none of the last. He says , tout court, in his letter, ' she drank 
 tea here,' did not you think of me ? Tell truth, did she think of me 
 at all? for I am sure you observed. Your words, 'if she only likes 
 you,' frighten me , if it is only that, I dread her mother's influence, 
 it is very strong. Suppose you were here, and to say to me, ' If 
 you ever think of that girl , I will never forgive you,' what should I 
 do ? even I , who dote on Kate ; and then , if she only likes me , I 
 am sure being there would be of no use lo me. God bless you , etc. " 
 
 "Stoke, August 19, 1786. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER . 
 ******* 
 
 " Now I have given you all the answer I can at present, I will 
 talk a little of myself. You will find, by my last, that I intend going 
 with you in case you go ; for being in Ireland , and not seeing Kate , 
 I should hate. Though I have been here ever since the Duke went, I 
 am as constant as ever, and go on doling upon her ; this is , I think , 
 the greatest proof I have given yet. Being here has put me in much 
 belter spirits . they arc so delightful. I dote on G** ; the other two 
 have been at Selsey, but come back to-day. We all go to a ball at
 
 J6 MEMOIRS 1786. 
 
 Mr. Barnwell's. You see by the beginning of this letter I am a fa- 
 vourite of Lady Louisa ; she has been pleasanter than any thing can 
 be ; I love her very much. 
 
 " I have not been so happy since I left Frescati as I have been 
 here. Do not be afraid that I am idle : I get up at five o'clock every 
 morning, go to Goodwood, and stay and study with Mr. Baly till 
 two , and return here to dine. You cannot think how much I like the 
 thoughts of going abroad with you , and being once more comfort- 
 ably settled with you ; besides , now I am in a good habit , I can do 
 a great deal with Mr. Ogilvie. I am sorry to find dear little Gerald is 
 in bad spirits. I shall write to him , as I think nothing does one more 
 good when in that way than getting letters from any body one likes. 
 Good bye, dearest mother. 
 
 "Yours, etc." 
 " Goodwood, Sept. -2 , 1786. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER. 
 
 " I received your letter from Carton yesterday. I cannot write to 
 Sophia to give her any advice, it is one of those cases where friends 
 ought to be very cautious what they do ; the persons concerned I 
 think are always the best judges ; it neither requires cleverness , or 
 parts, or knowledge, to know what will make one happy or unhappy, 
 I should never answer it to myself hereafter, if, from taking my 
 advice, she found herself in the least degree unhappy. Pray write 
 me word how things go on -, t own I am afraid. At the same time, 
 dearest Sophy has so much feeling , and so much heart , that the 
 least thing will make her, perhaps, happy, or unhappy for ever ; if 
 she was not so very sensible, I should not be near so afraid about 
 her. My dearest mother, she has all your tenderness and sensibility 
 wit/lout your good understanding and excellent judgment to manage 
 it. Not that I think her deficient in either the one or the other, 
 and should, indeed, be sorry to see her get more of either quality; 
 if she was to give up the least of her good heart for it. Being at a 
 distance makes me serious about it. If I were with you, I am afraid 
 I should be Marplot , and giggle a little. 
 
 " I am glad sweetest Kate is grown fat. I love her more than any 
 thing yet, though I have seen a great deal of G**. I own fairly I am 
 not in such bad spirits as I was, particularly when I am with G**, 
 whom I certainly love better than any of her sisters. However, I can 
 safely say, I have not been infidele to Kate, whenever I thought 
 of her, which I do very often , though not so constantly as usual : 
 this entirely between you and me. The Duke goes again to Ports- 
 mouth to-morrow , and I go with him : we are only to stay a day
 
 i 7 86. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 27 
 
 there. He does not like to give up his shooting . while he is out 
 shooting , I always attend little Baly. I go on very well, and the 
 Duke is , I believe , very well pleased with me. There is nobody 
 here yet but Madame de Cambise , who is a delightful creature : I 
 am grown very fond of her. I am becoming quite impatient to sec 
 you , now that I expect you. I love nothing in comparison to you, 
 my dearest mother, after all. 
 
 "Yours, etc." 
 
 During the absence of the Duke , Lord Edward passed his lime 
 chiefly at **, the seat of Lord **, which was not far from Goodwood ; 
 and the tooe of the letters he wrote from thence must have suffi- 
 ciently prepared his mother's mind for the important change his af- 
 fections were now about to undergo. 
 
 I have already remarked that, in the state of Lord Edward's mind, 
 at this period, in the fond restlessness with which, enamoured 
 more in fancy than in heart , he dwells upon the image of his absent 
 ut Kale, 1 ' there is something akin to the mood in which the great 
 painter of human passions has described his youthful lover as in- 
 dulging , when first brought upon the scene , before the strong and 
 absorbing passion that was to have such influence over his destiny 
 took possession of him. The poet well knew that , in natures of this 
 kind , a first love is almost always but a rehearsal for the second ; 
 that imagination must act as taster to the heart , before the true 
 " thirst from the soul" is called forth, and that , accordingly, out of 
 this sort of inconstancy to one object is oftenest seen to spring the 
 most passionate , and even constant , devotion to another. An ordi- 
 nary painter of character would not only have shrunk from the risk 
 of exhibiting his hero so fickle, but would have gladly availed 
 himself of the romantic interest which a picture of first love and 
 singleness of affection is always sure to inspire. But, besides that, 
 in Juliet , he had an opportunity of presenting a portraiture of this 
 kind, such as no hand ever before sketched, he was well aware 
 that in man's less pliant heart, even where most susceptible, a greater 
 degree of previous softening is required , before it can thus suddenly 
 and, at the same lime, deeply be penetrated ; and that it was only 
 fay long dwelling, in imagination , upon a former love that his hero's 
 mind could be supposed to have attained such a pitch of excitement 
 as , at first sight, to drink in an intoxication of passion which has 
 rendered the lovers themselves, and the poet that has commemorated 
 (hem , immortal. 
 
 How entirely in nature, and in the nature, too, of ordinary life, 
 is this delineation of the dramatist's fancy, cannot be more clearly 
 j'xemplified than in the process by which Lord Edward's excitable
 
 28 MEMOIRS 1786. 
 
 heart now found itself surprised into a passion which became after- 
 wards such a source of pain and disappointment to him ; which , by 
 the cloud it threw over his naturally joyous disposition , first con- 
 duced, perhaps, to give his mind a somewhat severer turn, and to 
 incline it towards those inquiries into the stale of " the world and 
 the world's law," which, at length, acting upon his generous and 
 conscientious nature , enlisted him in the cause to which he ulti- 
 mately fell a sacrifice. 
 
 The rapid progress already made by the charms of Miss **, 
 unconsciously, on her part, and almost equally so, at the beginning, 
 on his , in effacing the vivid impression left by a former object, 
 is described in the foregoing extracts more naturally than it could 
 be in any other words. For some lime he continued to struggle 
 against this new fascination, and, though without any of those obli- 
 gations to constancy which a return of his first love might have 
 imposed, seemed reluctant to own , even to himself, thai his affec- 
 tions could be so easily unrooled. The charm, however, was too 
 powerful to be thus resisted ; and the still fainter and fainter mention 
 of Lady Catharine in his letters, till at length her name wholly dis- 
 appears , marks as plainly the gradual disaffection of his heart as 
 Ihe deserted sands tell the slow ebbing of the tide. 
 
 In Ihe aulumn of Ihis year the Duchess of Leinsler and her family 
 arrived in England , on their way to the continent , meaning to 
 pass the summer months at Nice , and in the south of France, and 
 to Lord Edward was intrusted the task of securing lodgings for her 
 Grace at Chichester. The hospitalily, however, of Ihe noble owners 
 of Goodwood and Stoke would not hear of her sojourning elsewhere 
 than under their roofs. In writing to announce this delermination to 
 his mother, he concludes his letter thus : 
 
 " Do not slay long at Oxford, for if you do I shall die with im- 
 patience before you arrive. I can hardly write , I am so happy. I 
 do not at all envy you seeing Mrs. Siddons ; I cannot envy any body 
 at this moment, for I cerlainly am Ihe happiest dog in the world. 
 Think of seeing Henry, Sophia , and you, all in one day ! I may as 
 well stop, for I cannot write." 
 
 On Ihe departure of his mother and sisters for Nice , Lord Edward 
 accompanied them, and remained there till the opening of par- 
 liament made it necessary for him to allend his public duties in Ire- 
 land. On the few important questions, that were faroughl, during Ihis 
 session, before Ihe House, his name is invariably to be found in the 
 very small minority which the stock of Irish palriolism , at Ihis lime 
 but scanty, supplied. From the opinions, loo, respecting his brother 
 legislators , which he expresses in the following letter, it will be seen 
 that the standard by which he judged of public men and their con-
 
 i-77. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 29 
 
 duct was , even at this period , of no very accommodating nature ; 
 and that the seeds of that feeling which , in after days , broke out 
 into indignant revolt, were already fast ripening. His animadversions 
 here upon what he calls the " shabby" behaviour of his uncle, 
 Mr. Conolly, refer to the line taken by that gentleman on the ques- 
 tion of the Riot Bill a bill, which Mr. Wolfe declared to be " so 
 hostile to the liberties of the people, that every man should raise his 
 voice and almost wield his sword against it." On this measure 
 Mr. Conolly took part with the Castle, and opposed an amendment 
 (o the Bill moved by Mr. O'Neil. Upon a proposal, too, by Mr. Gral- 
 tan for a Resolution concerning Tithes, Mr. Conolly again appears 
 among the supporters of government ; while the name of Lord 
 Edward is found , as usual , shining by the side of those of Grattan 
 and Curran , among that small , but illustrious band, " the few, 
 fine flushes of departing day," that gave such splendour to the 
 last moments of Ireland , as a nation. The following is the extract of 
 Lord Edward's letter to which I refer : 
 
 " Dublin, February a6lh , 1787. 
 
 " You desire me to give you an account of myself; I do not think 
 you could ask a more difficult thing , for though I have been doing 
 nothing but the common John-trot things, yet I have been thinking 
 of a great many others, both serious and trivial , and to give an ac- 
 count of one's thoughts requires a better pen than mine. I have 
 been greatly disappointed about politics , though not dispirited. 
 Ogilvie , I dare say, has told you how ill we have gone on. Conolly, 
 I think, behaved shabbily , and as long as the Bishop Cloyne has 
 got hold of him , he will do no good. We came over so sanguine 
 from England , that one feels the disappointment the more. William 
 is behaving as well as possible ; so that, by perseverance and steadi- 
 ness, I am sure we shall get right again. When one has any great 
 object to carry *one must expect disappointments , and not be di- 
 verted from one's object by them, or even appear to mind them. I 
 therefore say to every body that I think we are going on well. The 
 truth is , the people one has to do with are a bad set. I mean the 
 whole; for really I believe those we act with are the best. All this is 
 between you and me : you must not mention any thing of it even to 
 Mr. Ogilvie , for even to him I put on a good face, and try to ap- 
 pear not disappointed or dispirited." 
 
 In the determination here expressed, as politic as it is manly, 
 not only to persevere, in spite of disgust and difficulty, towards 
 the object he had in view, but even to assume an air of confidence 
 in his cause when most hopeless of it , we have a feature of his 
 character disclosed to us which more than any other, perhaps,
 
 30 MEMOIRS 1787- 
 
 tended to qualify him for the enterprise to which , fatally for him- 
 self , he devoted Ihe latter years of his life. In a struggle like that, 
 of which the chances were so uncertain , and where some of the 
 instruments necessary to success were so little congenial to his 
 % nature, it is easy to conceive how painfully often he must have 
 had to summon up the self-command here described, to enable him 
 to hide from those embarked with him his own hopelessness and 
 disgust. 
 
 In another part of the same letter, he thus, with a depth and 
 delicacy of filial tenderness which few hearts have ever felt so 
 strongly, addresses his beloved mother : 
 
 "You cannot think how I feel to want you here. I dined and 
 slept at Frescati the other day, Ogilvie and I tete a tete. We talked 
 a great deal of you. Though the place makes me melancholy, yet it 
 gives one pleasant feelings. To be sure , the going to bed without 
 wishing you a good night; the coming down in a morning, and 
 not seeing you ; the sauntering about in the fine sunshine, looking 
 at your flowers and shrubs without you to lean upon one , was all 
 very bad indeed. In settling my journey there, that evening, I 
 determined to see you in my way, supposing you were even a 
 thousand miles out of it; and now coolly, if I can afford it, I 
 certainly will/' 
 
 A subsequent letter ( March 3d ) relating chiefly to some domestic 
 misfortune which had befallen a French family of his acquaintance, 
 contains passages full of the same filial fondness , which all mothers, 
 at least , will thank me for extracting : 
 
 "It is time for me to go to Frescati. Why are not you there, 
 dearest of mothers ? but it feels a little like seeing you too , to go 
 there. We shall talk a great deal of you. I assure you I miss you in 
 Ireland very, very much. I am not half so merry as I should be if 
 you were here. I get tired of every thing , and want to have you to 
 go and talk to. You are , after all , what I love befl in the world. 
 I always return to you , and find it is the only love I do not deceive 
 myself in. I love you more than I think I do , but I will not give 
 way to such thoughts , for it always makes me grave. I really made 
 myself miserable for two days since I left you , by this sort of re- 
 flections ; and in thinking over with myself what misfortunes I 
 could bear, I found there was one I could not; but God bless 
 you." 
 
 It had been his intention , as soon as released from his parlia- 
 mentary duties , to rejoin the Duchess at Nice , and from thence 
 proceed , in the summer, to meet his friends M. and Madame de 
 Levis, and the Puysegurs, in Switzerland. "This," he says in one 
 of his letters , " is my pleasant , foolish plan ; it would certainly
 
 i 7 8 7 - OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 31 
 
 he charming. My sensible plan is lo go and slay at Woolwich till 
 autumn, and then meet you all at Paris. If I do the latter ( which I 
 do not think I shall , for it is a great deal too wise), I should come 
 to Paris with great eclat , for I should by that time be very rich , 
 and be able to live away a little, so far as keeping horses and a 
 phaeton. The other plan would oblige me to live rather economi- 
 cally at Paris. Pray, consider my case , and take Madame de Levis 
 into the consultation , for she can , I know, give very good ad- 
 vice." 
 
 Instead of either of the projects here contemplated , a visit to 
 Gibraltar, with the ulterior object of a journey through Spain and 
 Portugal , was the plan upon which he at length decided for his 
 summer tour. 
 
 From Gibraltar, where he appears to have arrived about the 
 Inllcr end of 3Iay, he thus writes to the Duchess : 
 
 " Gibraltar. 
 
 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER. 
 
 I am delighted with this place ; never was any thing better 
 worth seeing , either taking it in a military light , or merely as 
 a matter of curiosity. I cannot describe it at all as it merits. Con- 
 ceive an immense high rugged rock , separated by a small neck of 
 land from a vast track of mountainous or rather hilly country, 
 \\liose large , broad, sloping eminences , with a good deal of ver- 
 dure, make a strong contrast with the sharp, steep rock of the 
 place. Yet when you come on the rock you find part of it capable of 
 very high cultivation ; it will in lime be a little paradise. Even at 
 present, in the midst of some of the wildest rockiest parts, you find 
 charming gardens, surrounded with high hedges of geraniums, 
 filled with orange, balm, sweet oleander, myrtle, cedar, Spanish 
 broom, roses, honeysuckles, in short, all the charming plants of 
 both our own country and others. Conceive all this , collected in 
 different spots of the highest barren rock perhaps you ever beheld, 
 and all in luxuriant vegetation; on one side seeing, with a fine 
 basin between you, the green hills of Andalusia, with two or three 
 rivers emptying themselves into the bay ; on another side the steep 
 rugged and high land of Barbary, and the whole strait coming under 
 your eye at once, and then a boundless view of the Mediterranean ; 
 ;ill the sea enlivened with shipping , and the land with the sight of 
 your own soldiers , and the sound of drains and fifes , and all other 
 military music : lo crown all , the finest climate possible. Really, 
 walking over the higher parts of the rock , either in the morning or 
 evening ( in Ihe mid-day all is quiet . on account of the heat), gives
 
 32 MEMOIRS 1787. 
 
 one feelings not to be described , making one proud to think that 
 here you are a set of islanders from a remote corner of the world , 
 surrounded by enemies thousands of times your numbers, vet, 
 after all the struggles, both of them and the French to beat you out 
 of it, keeping it in spite of all their efforts. All this makes you ap- 
 pear to yourself great and proud , and yet , again , when you con- 
 template the still greater greatness of the scene , the immense depth 
 of the sea under you , the view of an extensive tract of land , whose 
 numerous inhabitants are scarcely known, the feeling of pride is 
 then gone , and the littleness of your own works in comparison with 
 those of nature makes you feel yourself as nothing. But I will not 
 say any more , for every thing must fall far short of what is here 
 seen and felt. 
 
 " I really think if one had all the people one liked here, one 
 could live charmingly. The General gives all officers that chuse 
 gardens , and numbers have got them. Vegetation is so quick that 
 you can have peas , beans , and French beans in five weeks.after you 
 plant them : you have a very tolerable tree in three years ; poplars , 
 in two , grow to a great size. O'Hara and I walk the whole day , 
 from five in the morning till eight or nine at night 5 he is pleasanter 
 than ever, and enters into all one's ideas , fanciful as well as comical. 
 We divert ourselves amazingly with all the people here ; but this is 
 when he is not ' all over General, as he calls it. Elliot dotes on him , 
 and says, he goes away content, as he leaves the garrison in the 
 hands of such an able officer. Elliot is , from what I have seen of 
 him , a delightful man , and an excellent officer ; he talks highly of 
 Robert. I feel grown quite a soldier again since I came to this place , 
 and should like to be in a regiment here very much. I shall stay here 
 about ten days longer at most ; then go to Cadiz , by way of Tavira 
 through Portugal , to avoid a quarantine which the Spaniards lay on 
 this place. 
 
 "I wrote you the other day a letter, which I was ashamed to 
 send ; I had got up, particularly fond of you , and had determined 
 to give up all improvement whatever, and set out to you by the 
 shortest road without stopping. I have now settled my tour, so that 
 I hope to be with you in July ; that I may accomplish it. I shall 
 give up my visit to Madrid and Granada , and lake them some other 
 time. I really cannot slay much longer without seeing you. If I feel 
 thus here , you may guess how much stronger it will be when I 
 leave this place , and am left to myself. Often when I see a ship 
 sailing , I think how glad I should be if I were aboard , and on my 
 passage to you. I have got some seed of a beautiful plant that grows 
 like ivy, with a purple flower and fine smell 5 it is called Dolcom $
 
 ,787. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 33 
 
 I never saw any at home : I think it will do very well for your pas 
 sage at Frescali. God bless you. 
 
 "Yours affectionately, 
 
 "E. F. 
 
 "A dreadful scrawl, but I am in haste. I am to dine with a 
 dreadful Mrs. S. who has been up to the elbows in custards to 
 receive the general." 
 
 At Lisbon , to which city he next proceeded, wishing to have a 
 glimpse of Portugal before he pursued his journey into Spain, 
 he was lucky enough to make acquaintance with some of the prin- 
 cipal Portuguese nobility; and, as his frank, popular manners, 
 even still more than his personal beauty and rank, secured him a 
 welcome reception wherever he became known, he found the 
 society of this city so agreeable as to induce him to delay longer 
 there than he intended. 
 
 From all the places which he now, in succession, visited, Ca- 
 diz, Granada, Madrid, etc. he still wrote, as usual, punctually 
 to his mother; and through all his letters, unpretending as they 
 are in a literary point of view, there still breathes , with unfailing 
 charm, the same spirit of enjoyment, the same natural freshness 
 both of mind and heart. To beauty, in all its visible forms, whether 
 in the varied scenery of nature, the simple grace of children, or 
 that most perfect of its manifestations , woman's loveliness , he had 
 a heart peculiarly susceptible ; and among the themes he chiefly 
 dwells on in these letters , are the enchanting views of the country, 
 the mirth and prettiness of the little Andalusian children with their 
 guitars, the graceful mixture of song and dance in the seguidillas of 
 the female peasants , and , occasionally, a comparative estimate of 
 the respective claims of the women of Portugal and Spain to beauty. 
 His manner of travelling was highly characteristic of his simple and 
 independent mind. "I am," he says, "charmed with the people 
 here; and by the way I travel I see a great deal of them. I always 
 set out about three in the evening and travel till one or two , and as 
 I do not sleep as much as my companions Tony and the muleteer, I 
 generally walk next morning about the town or village I am in , and 
 the people are so fond of the English that a Cavallero Ingles is asked 
 into almost every house, and made to sit down and eat or drink. By 
 this means , there is hardly a place I go through that I do not make 
 some acquaintance whom I feel quite sorry to leave." 
 
 Of the Alhambra he says " It is , in fact, the palaces and gardens 
 of the Arabian Nights realized. The paintings that still remain are 
 much beyond any thing of the kind we do now, both in the colour- 
 ing and the finishing -, and I was surprised to find that almost all our 
 
 3
 
 :?4 MEMOIRS i 7 g 7 . 
 
 modern patterns are taken from hence. The painting of one of the 
 rooms is even now better than that of the gallery at Castletown , or 
 at Monsieur Regnard's at Paris , and much in the same style." 
 
 But the great charm of these letters lies neither in the descriptions 
 nor reflections, much livelier and profounder than which might, in 
 this age of showy and second-hand cleverness , be parroted forth by 
 persons with not a tithe of Lord Edward's intellect, but in that ever 
 wakeful love of home and of all connected with it, which accom- 
 panies him wherever he goes; which mixes, even to a disturbing 
 degree, with all his pursuits and pleasures, and would, it is plain, 
 could his wishes have been seconded by the fabled cap of Fortunatus, 
 have been for ever transporting him back into the family circle. In 
 some of the remembrances he sends to his sisters, that playfulness 
 of nature which , to the end of his life , and through some of its inosl 
 trying scenes, never deserted him, rather amusingly breaks ouL 
 For instance, after observing that all the little Portuguese and 
 Spanish girls put him in mind of his sister Ciss, he adds, "You 
 are by this time settled at Barege, and I hope have had neither 
 bickerings nor pickerings. One certainly avoids them by being 
 alone, and it is that, I believe , that makes it so tiresome. I really 
 at this moment , long to have a little quarrel with somebody. Giv(* 
 my Love to all of them. I am sorry poor dear Charlotte is not better, 
 glad Lucy is quite well, and hope Sophia is not lachrymose. 1 
 sincerely hopeMimi is grown obstinate , passionate, and disobedient 
 to all the girls , and that she don't mind a word M e Clavel says to 
 her ; that when she is at her lesson , she only keeps her eyes on the- 
 book, while, all the while, she is thinking of riding on Bourra; 
 and that the minute you are out of the room , she begins talking to 
 Cecilia. God bless you." 
 
 From Madrid he writes thus : 
 
 " I have been but three hours in Madrid. I wanted to set off to you 
 by post, and should have been with y6u , in that case , in seven days. 
 It was to cost me 40/.; but Tony remonstrated and insisted that it NV;IS 
 very foolish, when I might go for live guineas, and, in short, he 
 prevailed." 
 
 The warm attachment to Miss * % of which we have already traced 
 the first dawnings , continued unaltered through all this change of 
 scene and society; though, from his silence on the subject, in 
 every letter he wrote home, it would appear that, even to his 
 mother, the habitual depositary of all his thoughts, he had not yol 
 confided the secret of his new passion. On his return to England , 
 however, but a very short lime elapsed before it became manifest 
 not only how deeply and devotedly he was attached , but , unluckily.
 
 i 7 S8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 35 
 
 how faint were the hopes of his over succeeding in his suit. The 
 Duke of Richmond , who felt nalur;illy a warm interest in both par- 
 ties, was very desirous . it seems, that the union should take place; 
 hut the father of the young lady decided!) opposed himself to it; and 
 the more strongly to mark his decision on the subject , at length 
 peremptorily forbade Lord Edward his house. 
 
 To he thus frustrated in any ohject whatever would have been , 
 to a sanguine spirit like his , sufficiently mortifying; but in a pur- 
 suit like this , where he had embarked all his fondest hopes , nor 
 w as without grounds for flattering himself that , but for this inter- 
 ference . he might have been successful . the effect of such a repulse 
 in saddening and altogether unhinging his mind may be , without 
 difficulty, conceived. 
 
 Finding that his spirits, instead of rallying, were, on the contrary, 
 sinking every day, more and more, under this disappointment, 
 while , from the want of any active and regular employment , his 
 mind was left helplessly the victim of its own breedings , he resolved 
 to try how far absence and occupation might bring relief 5 and as his 
 present regiment, the 54th, was now at New Brunswick, in Nova 
 Scotia , he determined on joining it. Fortunately, this resolution 
 found a seconding impulse in that love of a military life which was 
 so leading a feeling with him 5 and, about the latter end of May, 
 without acquainting even his mother with his design , lest, in her 
 fond anxiety, she might interpose to prevent it, he sailed for 
 America. 
 
 The following series of letters , written by him at this time, will, 
 I have no doubt , be read with interest. 
 
 " Halifax, Jane 241)1 , 1788. 
 
 "DEAREST, DEA.REST MOTHER, 
 
 " I got here three days ago , after a passage of twenty-eight days, 
 one of the quickest almost ever known. We had a fair wind every 
 hour of the way . Depend on it , dearest mother, I will not miss an 
 opportunity of w riling to you. Tony has followed your directions 
 very implicitly, for there has not passed a day yet without his telling 
 me I had best w rite now, or I should go out and forget it. 
 
 I can give you no account of the country yet, or the people. 
 By what I hear, they are all Irish, at least in this town : the brogue 
 is not in higher perfection in Kilkenny. I think I hear and see T/ia- 
 niis in every corner of the street. I am lodged at a Mr. Cornelius 
 O'Brien's , who claims relationship } and I accept the relationship, 
 and his horse , for thirty miles up the country. I set out to-day. 
 -M y regiment is at St. John's , in New Brunswick . the distance is a
 
 3G MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 hundred and twenty miles from here to Annapolis , and at Annapolis 
 you embark across the bay of Fundy to St. John's, which is oppo- 
 site, at the mouth of the river of the same name. This is the com- 
 mon route ; but , to avoid the Bay of Fundy ( which is a very dis- 
 agreeable navigation, and where one sometimes happens to be a 
 fortnight out), I go another road, which takes me round the bay. 
 It is longer, and very bad, but by all accounts very wild and beau- 
 tiful. I shall cross rivers and lakes, of which one has no idea in 
 England. I go down one river called Shubennacadee for thirty 
 miles, which they tell me is so full of fish, that you kill them with 
 sticks. They say the banks of it are beautiful all the finest wood 
 and pasture, but quite in the state of nature. By all I hear, this will 
 be a journey after my own heart. I long to hear from you . I love 
 G * * more than ever. 
 
 "I hope my journey will do me good : one thing I am glad to 
 find is, that I am likely to have a separate command, which \\ill 
 give me a good deal to do. Good bye again. God bless you a thousand 
 limes. 
 
 <l Yours, etc." 
 
 This journey to St. John's appears to have been all that he anti- 
 cipated ; and the quiet and affecting picture of an evening in the 
 woods , detailed with such natural eloquence in the following letter, 
 affords one of those instances where a writer may be said to be a poet 
 without knowing it , his very unconsciousness of the effect he is 
 producing being , in itself, a charm which no art or premeditation 
 could expect to reach. 
 
 ' St. John's , New Brunswick , July i8th. 
 
 "MY DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "Here I am, after a very long and fatiguing journey. I had no 
 idea of what it was : it was more like a campaign than any thing else, 
 except in one material point, that of having no danger. I should have 
 enjoyed it most completely but for the musquitos, but they took off 
 a great deal of my pleasure : the millions of them are dreadful. If 
 it had not been for this inconvenience , my journey would have been 
 delightful. The country is almost all in a stale of nature, as well as 
 its inhabitant. There are four sorts of Ihese: the Indians, the French, 
 the old English settlers, and now the refugees from the other parts 
 of America : the last seem the most civilized. 
 1 "The old settlers are almost as wild as Indians, but lead a very 
 comforlable life : Ihey are all farmers , and live entirely within them- 
 selves. They supply all their own wants by their contrivances, so 
 that they seldom buy any thing. They ought to'be the happiesl people
 
 i/88. OF LOUD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 37 
 
 iii the world, but they do nol seem lo know it. They imagine them- 
 selves poor because they have no money, without considering they 
 do nol want it : every thing is done by barter, and you will often find 
 a farmer well supplied with every thing , and yet not having a shil- 
 ling in money. Any man that will work is sure, in a few years, to 
 have a comfortable farm : the first eighteen months is the only hard 
 lime, and that in most places is avoided, particularly near the 
 rivers , for in every one of them a man will catch in a day enough 
 lo feed him for the year. In the winter, with very little trouble , 
 he supplies himself with meat by killing moose-deer; and in sum- 
 mer with pigeons, of which the woods are full. These he must 
 subsist on till he lias cleared ground enough to raise a little grain , 
 which a hard-working man will do in the course of a few months. 
 Ity selling his moose skins , making sugar out of the maple-tree , 
 and by a few days' work for other people , for which he gels great 
 wages, he soon acquires enough lo purchase a cow. This, then, 
 sets him up, and he is sure, in a few years, lo have a comfortable 
 supply of every necessary of life. I came through a whole tract of 
 country peopled by Irish , who came out nol worlh a shilling , and 
 have all now farms, worlh (according lo the value of money in this 
 country) from 1000 /. lo 3000 /. 
 
 "The equality of every body and of Ihcir manner of life 1 like 
 very much. There are no gentlemen $ every body is on a fooling , 
 provided he works and wants nothing $ every man is exactly what 
 he can make himself, or has made himself by industry. The more 
 children a man has the better : his wife being brought to bed is as 
 joyful news as his cow calving ; the father has no uneasiness about 
 providing for them , as this is done by the profit of their work. By 
 the time they are fit lo sellle , he can always afford them two oxen , 
 a cow, a gun , and an axe , and in a few years, if they work, they 
 will thrive. 
 
 " I came by a scltlemenl along one of the rivers , which was all 
 the work of one pair ; the old man was seventy-two , the old lady 
 seventy ; they had been Ihere thirty years ; they came there with 
 one cow, three children, and one servant 5 there was not a living 
 being within sixty miles of them. The firsl year Ihey lived moslly 
 on milk and marsh leaves -, Ihe second year they contrived to pur- 
 chase a bull , by the produce of their moose skins and fish : from this 
 time they got on very well ; and there are now five sons and a daugh- 
 ter all settled in different farms along the river for the space of twenty 
 miles , and all living comfortably and at ease. The old pair live alone 
 in the Htlle log cabin Ihey first settled in , two miles from any of their 
 children , their little spot of ground is cultivated by these children, 
 and they are supplied with so much butter, grain , meat, etc. , from
 
 38 MEMOIRS 17 85. 
 
 each child , according to the share he got of the land j so that the 
 old folks have nothing to do but to mind their house , which is a kind 
 of inn they keep, more for the sake of the company of the few tra- 
 vellers there are, than for gain. 
 
 "I was obliged to stay a day with the old people on account of 
 the tides , which did not answer for going up the river till next 
 morning ; it was , I think , as odd and as pleasant a day ( in ils way) 
 as ever I passed. I wish I could describe it to you, but I cannot, 
 you must only help it out with your own imagination. Conceive, 
 dearest mother, arriving about twelve o'clock in a hot day at a little 
 cabin upon the side of a rapid river, the banks all covered with 
 woods, not a house in sight, and there finding a little old clean 
 tidy woman spinning , with an old man of the same appearance 
 weeding salad. We had come for ten miles up the river without 
 seeing any thing but woods. The old pair, on our arrival , got as 
 active as if only five-and-lwenty, the gentleman getting wood and 
 water, the lady frying bacon and eggs, both talking a great deal, 
 telling their story, as I mentioned before, how they had been there 
 thirty years, and how their children were settled , and when cither's 
 back was turned remarking how old the other had grown; at the 
 same time all kindness, cheerfulness , and love to each other. 
 
 " The contrast of all this , which had passed during the day, with 
 the quietness of the evening , when the spirits of the old people had 
 a little subsided , and began to wear off with the day, and with the 
 fatigue of their little work, silling quietly at their door, on the 
 same spot they had lived in thirty years together, the contented 
 though tfulness of their countenances, which was increased by their 
 age and the solilary life they had led , the wild quietness of the place, 
 not a living creature or habitation to be seen , and me , Tony, and 
 our guide sitting with them , all on one log. The difference of the 
 scene I had left , the immense way I had to get from this little 
 corner of the world , to see any thing I loved , Ihe difference of 
 the life I should lead from that of this old pair, perhaps at their age 
 discontented, disappointed, and miserable, wishing for power, etc., 
 etc. , my dearest mother, if it was not for you , I believe I never 
 should go home , at least I thought so at that moment. 
 
 " However, here I am now with my regiment , up at six in the 
 morning doing all sorts of right things , and liking it very much , 
 determined to go home next spring , and live with you a great deal. 
 Employment keeps up my spirits, and I shall have more every 
 day. I own I often Ihink how happy I could be wilh G** in some 
 of the spots I see ; and envied every young farmer I met , whom I 
 saw sitting down with a young wife , whom he was going to work to 
 maintain. I believe these thoughts made my journey pleasanter than.
 
 i 7 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 35 
 
 it othtM \\ix- \\ould have been ; but I don't give way to them here. 
 Dearest mother, I sometimes hope it will end well, but shall not 
 think any more of it till I hear from England. Tell Ogilvie I am 
 obliged sometimes to say to myself, ' Tu Fas voulu, George Dandin,' 
 when I find things disagreeable ; but . on the whole, I do not re- 
 pent coining ; he won't believe me , I know. He will be in a tine 
 passion when he finds 1 should have been lieutenant-colonel for the 
 regulated price , if I had stayed in the 60th : however, as (ate seems 
 to destine me for a major, I am determined to remain so and not 
 purchase. Give my love to him : I wish I could give him some of 
 4 he wood here for kilrush." 
 
 " New Brunswick, August 5. 
 Ml 
 
 I have hardly time to tell you more than that 1 am well , and , 1 
 think , going on in a good way. I know you will be glad to hear 1 
 rival a great deal, get up early, and am trying to make use of my 
 lime (of which I have plenty) for reflection. I grow fonder of my 
 prolrssion the more I see of it. and like being major much belter 
 than being lieutenant-colonel , for 1 only execute the commands of 
 others. I have a good deal to do , which keeps up my spirits ; and if 
 il was not being away from dearest mother, am happier here than 
 1 should be any where else : the distance from her, and indeed all 
 of you , comes over me strongly now and then. I hope you miss 
 that little dog , Edward ,' sometimes. Good bye ; I don't like 
 thinking of you at this distance , for il only makes me melancholy. 
 You will be much disappointed in your hopes of my staying here 
 two years ; my lieutenant-colonel says , I shall have his leave when- 
 i'M-r I chuse , as he intends slaying till the regiment returns -, so 
 dial next spring . by which time I shall have seen Niagara and the 
 lakes . and enjoyed a little of the savage life , you may expect to 
 w me." 
 
 " St. Ann's, New Brunswick , 
 "August 16, 1788. 
 
 wt DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 ^ Since my last I have changed quarters , and much for the 
 heller. This place is 100 miles up the river ; the country is beauti- 
 ful , and the weather charming. At St John's the weather is very 
 !>ad : the fogs constant, and for more than three weeks I was there, 
 \\e had only live days on which we saw the sun rise. You may be- 
 lieve I w as very glad to come up to this place ; besides , I have the 
 command here , which gives me more employment ; ca me pese, 
 now and then ; but , on the w hole . it is very good for me.
 
 40 MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 "Pray tell Ogilvie I am obliged to think, I know he will be 
 glad lo hear it. 1 get up at five o'clock , go out and exercise the men 
 from six till eight , come home and breakfast-, from that till three, I 
 read, write, and settle all the different business of the regiment; 
 at four we dine; at half after six we go out, parade and drill till 
 sundown ; from that till nine, I walk by myself, build castles in the 
 air, think of you all , reflect on the pleasant lime past as much as 
 possible , and on the disagreeable as little as possible , think of all 
 the pleasant things that may yet happen , and of none of the unplea- 
 sant ones 5 when I am tired of myself, at nine o'clock , come home 
 to bed , and then sleep till the faithful Tony comes in the morning : 
 his black face is the only thing that I yet feel attached to. 
 
 "Dearest mother, I do sincerely long to see you; I think if I 
 could carry you here, I should live tolerably happy. There is cer- 
 tainly something in a military life that excites and keeps up one's 
 spirits. I feel exactly like my uncle Toby at the sound of a drum , 
 and the more I hear it the more I like it ; there is a mixture , too , 
 of country life and military life here that is very pleasant. I have got 
 a garden for the soldiers , which employs me a great deal. I flatter 
 myself next year that it will furnish the men with quantities of ve- 
 getables , which will be of great service to them. Another of my 
 amusements is my canoe ; I have already had two expeditions in it. 
 I and another officer went up the river in her for thirty miles ; we 
 stayed two days, and had our provisions and blankets with us, and 
 slept in the woods ; one of the nights cooked our victuals , and did 
 every thing ourselves. 
 
 " It is very pleasant here sometimes to go in this way exploring, 
 ascending far up some river or creek , and finding sometimes the 
 finest lands and most beautiful spots in nature , which are not at all 
 known, and quite wild. As soon as our review is over, 1 am to go 
 on one of these parlies , up a river, the source and course of which 
 is yet unknown. There is a great convenience in the canoes, they 
 are so light , two men can carry them easily on their shoulders , so 
 that you go from river to river without any trouble : it is the only 
 method of travelling in this country. A canoe here is like a post- 
 chaise at home , and the rivers and lakes your post-horses. You 
 would laugh to see the faithful Tony and I carrying one. 
 
 "Good bye, dearest mother, I do all I can not lo think of you, 
 but in vain. Give my love to every body. I love G** more than ever, 
 and , if she likes me , can never change. I oflen think what pleasure 
 it would be to come home lo her, and how much belter every object 
 would appear, but I slop my thoughts as much as I can. I never 
 shall, I think, be happy without her; neither do I say thai I shall 
 be absolutely unhappy. I think it indeed wrong ( when one has a
 
 i,88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 41 
 
 great number of real blessings ) not to feel and enjoy them , be- 
 cause there is one which we cannot have. For myself, I have so 
 many, that I feel afraid any thing more would be beyond my share, 
 and that so great a happiness must be attended with some mis- 
 fortune. I am not certainly so much better than others , and do not 
 Ihink that I deserve what I have. Excuse my petite morale." 
 
 ' Frederick's Town , ]\ew Brunswick , 
 Sept. ad, 1788. 
 
 " DEAREST , DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I have just got your letter from sweet Frescati. How affecr 
 tionate and reasonable ! but I was sure you would be so , when 
 you came to reflect. You cannot think how happy you have made 
 me. Being absent from you was unhappiness enough , without the 
 addition of your thinking it unnecessary, and being a little angry. 
 I own it went to my heart to feel I was the cause of so much mi- 
 sery to you , while at the very time , too , you thought the step I 
 took unnecessary. It certainly required more resolution than I be- 
 lieve I shall ever have again. However, I trust it will all turn out 
 well. It certainly will do me good in my profession : it gives 
 me the consolation , too , of thinking I am doing my duty as a 
 man, and occupation hinders my being so thoroughly taken up 
 with one object as I should have been had I remained at home. 
 Still , being absent from you , my dear mother, is very terrible at 
 times. However, I hope to make it up when I return ; and certainly 
 by having come away now, I can with a better grace stay at home 
 at some future time ; at a lime too , perhaps , when I should be a 
 greater comfort to you. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear you are so quietly settled at Frescati. 
 You must find great pleasure in being there , after your rambling ^ 
 but I trust you will not get loo rooted and loo lazy to stir from it , 
 for I hope to serve you as courier yet ; and to keep you in order on 
 our journeys , when you know I always become such a tyrant. I am 
 afraid I shall think too often of our last year's journey. We are now 
 approaching to the time. I shall , however, amuse myself travelling 
 in a different way. We are going, a party of us , in canoes up to 
 the Grand Falls of St John's : they are two hundred and fifty miles 
 up the river, and by all accounls beautiful. The contrast between 
 the country I shall Iravel Ihrough this year and that I went through 
 last will be very great : the one all wild , the other all high cultiva- 
 tion. Instead of Blois, Tours, etc., a few Indian bark huts. I am 
 not quite certain which I prefer. There is something in a wild 
 country very enticing ; taking its inhabitants , too , and (heir man- 
 ners into the bargain.
 
 4* MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 " I know Ogilvie says I ought to have been a savage, and if it 
 were not that the people I love and wish to live with are civilized 
 people, and like houses, etc., etc., I really would join the savages; 
 and , leaving all our fictitious , ridiculous wants , be what nature 
 intended we should be. Savages have all the real happiness of life, 
 without any of those inconveniences , or ridiculous obstacles to it , 
 which custom has introduced among us. They enjoy the love and 
 company of their wives, relations, and friends, without any inter- 
 ference of interests or ambition to separate them. To bring things 
 home to ones 1 self, if we had been Indians, instead of its being my 
 duty to be separated from all of you , it would , on the contrary, be 
 my duly to be with you , to make you comfortable, and to hunt and 
 fish for you : instead of Lord **'s being violent against letting me 
 marry G**, he would be glad to give her to me , that I might main- 
 tain and feed her. There would be then no cares of looking forward 
 to the fortune for children , of thinking how you are to live : no 
 separations in families , one in Ireland , one in England : no de- 
 vilish politics , no fashions , customs . duties , or appearances to the 
 world . to interfere with one's happiness. Instead of being served 
 and supported by servants , every thing here is done by one's rela- 
 tions by the people one loves ; and the mutual obligations you 
 must be under increase your love for each other. To be sure, the 
 poor ladies are obliged to cut a little wood and bring a little. 
 water. Now the dear Ciss and Mimi , instead of being with 
 Mrs. Lynch, would be carrying wood and fetching water, while 
 ladies Lucy and Sophia were cooking or drying fish. As for you , 
 dear mother , you would be smoking your pipe. Ogilvie and us 
 boys, after having brought in our game, would be lying about 
 the fire, while our squaws were helping the ladies to cook, or 
 taking care of our papouses : all this in a fine wood , beside some 
 beautiful lake , which, when you were tired of, you would in ten 
 minutes, without any baggage, get into your canoes and off with 
 you elsewhere. 
 
 " I wish Ogilvie may get rid of Frescati as easily ; I really think , 
 as things go , it would be a good thing ; it certainly is at present a 
 great deal of money lying dead. Besides, then, perhaps, you may 
 settle in England , and if things turn out , as I still have hopes they 
 will , and that I do succeed and marry dearest G**, it will be much 
 pleasanter for me. I cannot help having hopes that Lord George will 
 at last consent, and as long as there is the smallest hope of being 
 happy with G**, it is not possible to be happy with any one else. 
 I never can , I think , love any body as I do her, for with her I can 
 find no fault ; I may admire and love other women , but none can
 
 1 7 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 43 
 
 come in competition with her. Dearest mother, after yourself. I 
 think she is the most perfect creature on earth. 
 
 - I hope by this time you have got dear Harry and Plenipo. 
 Bob, they must be a great comfort to you. I am glad to hear the 
 dear rascal G. loves me , and inquires for me : I will write to him 
 soon. Good bye, I have nothing more to say, except that the faithful 
 Tony inquires after you all , and seems as glad when I get a letter 
 as if it was to him; he alwajs puts me in mind to write. I have 
 found he has one fault , he is avaricious, he begins already to count 
 the money both he and I are to save. A thousand blessings attend 
 you. " E. F. 
 
 " Upon reading over your letter, I cannot finish this w ilhout 
 saying something to Ogilvie. Don't let him be afraid of my marrying 
 a Yahoo. As to paying my debts , it is a rascally custom I am afraid 
 I must comply with. I wish him joy of there being no one in Dub- 
 lin. Tell him he will hardly know me again, I am grown so steady. 
 I think I hear him tell you how much I arn improved. As for the 
 lieut.-colonelcy, we will see about that. 1 ' 
 
 It has been often asserted that Lord Edward's adoption of repub- 
 lican principles is to be traced back to the period when he first 
 served in America -, and that it was while fighting against the assert- 
 ors of liberty in that country he imbibed so strong a feeling of sym- 
 pathy with their cause. This supposition , however, will be found to 
 have but few grounds , even of probability, to support it. At that 
 boyish period of his life, between seventeen and twenty, he was 
 little likely to devote any very serious consideration to the political 
 merits of the question in which he "-fleshed his maiden sword." 
 But, even granting him to have been disposed , under such circum- 
 stamvs , to consider which parly was right in the struggle , the 
 result most probably would have been, allowing fully for the 
 hereditary bias of opinions . to enlist, for the time , at least , not 
 only his feelings , but his reason , on the side in which his own 
 prospects and fame were immediately interested. 
 
 The situation of the soldier bears , in such cases , a ressemblance 
 to that of the lawyer, whose public duly too often compels him to 
 be (he defender of a cause , to which out of the professional pale, his 
 judgment and wishes are most adverse ; dfe the sole relief left to 
 Nory conscientious persons, thus situated, lies in that habit which 
 llic\ at last acquire (as is said to have been the case with a late 
 eminent English lawyer) of so far shaping their judgment to their 
 conscience as. at length, to succeed in persuading themselves that 
 the side of the question they have professionally adopted is also that 
 of sound reason and right.
 
 44 MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 Of this sort of self-reconciling process , which the natural effort 
 of the mind to recover its own esteem renders easy , Lord Edward 
 would, no doubt, like others, have fell the tranquillizing influence, 
 had any misgivings as to the moral character of the cause , in which 
 he now engaged with such ardour, occurred to him. But the fact is, 
 no misgivings of this nature suggested themselves ; nor was he , at 
 that time of his life , troubled with any of the inconvenient spirit of 
 inquiry that would have led lo them. His new career, as a soldier, 
 alone occupied all his thoughts; wherever fighting and promotion 
 were to be found was to him the most welcome field ; and the ap- 
 prehensions which , it may be remembered , he expresses , in his 
 letters from St. Lucia, at the near approach of peace, show how 
 personal and professional , to the last , his views of this iniquitous 
 war continued. 
 
 But though it is a mistake to refer so far back the origin of his 
 republican notions , yet that lo America , on this , his second , visit 
 to her shores , and through a very different channel both of reason- 
 ing and of feeling , he may have probably owed the first instilment 
 of those principles into his mind , every reader, I think , of the 
 foregoing letter will be inclined to allow. It is true, the natural sim- 
 plicity and independence of his character, which led him habitually, 
 and without effort , to forget the noble in the man, was in itself suf- 
 ficient lo incline him towards those equalizing doctrines which leach 
 that 
 
 Where there is no difference ia men's worths , 
 Titles are jests. 
 
 In the small sphere, too, of parly politics to which his specula- 
 tions had been hitherto bounded , the line taken by him had been , 
 as we have seen , in conformity with the popular principles of his 
 family, and on the few occasions that called for their assertion, had 
 been honourably and consistently followed. But farther or deeper 
 than this he had not taxed his. boyish thoughts to go 5 and what with 
 his mililary pursuits , while abroad , and the course of gaiety and 
 domestic enjoyments that awaited him at home , he could have but 
 litlle leisure to turn his mind lo any other forms or relations of 
 society than those in which he was always , so agreeably to himself 
 and others , engaged. ^ 
 
 At the time , however, which we are now employed in consider- 
 ing , a great change had taken place in the complexion of his life. 
 Disappointment in what , to youth , is every thing the first strong 
 affection of the hearl , had given a check lo that flow of spirits which 
 had before borne him so buoyantly along ; while his abstraction 
 from society left him more leisure to look inquiringly into his own
 
 i : 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD io 
 
 mind , and there gather those thoughts that are ever the fruit of 
 long solitude and sadness. The repulse which his suit had met with 
 from the father of his fair relative had , for its chief grounds , he 
 knew, the inadequacy of his ow n means and prospects to the sup- 
 port of a wife and family in that style of elegant competence to which 
 the station of the young lady herself had hitherto accustomed her ; 
 and the view , therefore , 'he had been disposed naturally to take of 
 the pomps and luxuries of high life , as standing in Ihc way of all 
 simple and real happiness , w as thus but too painfully borne out by 
 his own bitter experience of their influence. 
 
 In this temper of mind it was that he now came to the con- 
 templation of a state of society (as far as it can deserve to be so call- 
 ed ) entirely new to him ; w here Nature had retained in her own 
 hands not only the soil , but the inhabitants , and civilization had 
 not yet exacted those sacrifices of natural equality and freedom by 
 which her blessings are , in not a few respects, perhaps, dearly, 
 purchased. Instead of those gradations of rank, those artificial 
 privileges, which as one of the means of subduing the strong to the 
 weak , have been established , in some shape or other, in all civilized 
 communities, he observed here no other distinction between man 
 and man than such as nature herself, by the different apportionment 
 of her own gifts, had marked out , by a disparity either in mental 
 capacity, or in those powers of agility and strength, which , where 
 every man must depend mainly on himself , and so little is left con- 
 ventional or uncontested , are the endowments most necessary. To 
 these physical requisites, too, Lord Edward, as well from his own 
 personal activity, as from the military notions he in general mixed 
 up with his views of human affairs , was inclined to attach high 
 value. 
 
 In like manner, from the total absence , in this slate of existence, 
 of those factitious and imaginary wants which the progress of a people 
 to refinement, at every step, engenders, he saw that not only was 
 content more easy of attainment, but that even happiness itself, 
 from the few ness of the ingredients necessary toil, was a far less rare 
 compound. The natural affections , under the guidance less of reason 
 than of instinct, were, from that very cause, perhaps, the more 
 strong and steady in their impulses : mutual dependence kept the 
 members of a family united ; nor were there any of those calls and 
 attractions out of the circle of home , which in civilized life so early 
 strip it of its young props and ornaments , leaving the paternal hearth 
 desolate. 
 
 With a yet deeper interest was it , as bearing upon his own pe- 
 culiar fate, that he had observed, among this simple, and, as he 
 thought . happy people . that by no false ambition or conventional
 
 46 MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 wants were the warm , natural dictates of affection frustrated , nor 
 the hopes and happiness of the young made a sacrifice to the cal- 
 culations of the old. 
 
 The conclusion drawn by Lord Edward , in favour of savage life, 
 from the premises thus, half truly, half fancifully, assumed by him, 
 much of the colouring which he gave to the picture being itself 
 borrowed from civilization, had been already, it is well known, 
 arrived at, through all the mazes of ingenious reasoning, by Rous- 
 seau ; and it is not a little curious to observe how to the very same 
 paradox which the philosopher adopted in the mere spirit of defiance 
 and vanity, a heart overflowing with affection and disappointment 
 conducted the young lover. 
 
 Nor is Rousseau the only authority by which Lord Edward is 
 kept in countenance in this opinion ' . From a far graver and more 
 authentic source we find the same startling notion promulgated. 
 The philosopher and statesman, Jefferson, who, from being brought 
 up in the neighbourhood of Indian communities, had the best 
 means of forming an acquaintance with the interior of savage life , 
 declares himself convinced " that such societies (as the Indians) 
 which live without government, enjoy, in their general mass, an 
 infinitely greater degree of happiness than those who live under the 
 European governments ;" and , in another place , after discussing 
 the merits of various forms of polity, he does not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce that it is a problem not clear in his mind that the condition 
 of the Indians, without any government , is not yet the best of all. 
 
 Thus , where the American President ended his course of poli- 
 tical speculation , Lord Edward began , adopting his opinions , not, 
 like Jefferson , after long and fastidious inquiry, but through the 
 medium of a susceptible and wounded heart, nor having a thought of 
 applying the principle of equality implied in them to any other rela- 
 tions or institutions of society than those in which his feelings were, 
 at the moment, interested. This romance, indeed, of savage hap- 
 piness was , in him , but one of the various forms which the passion 
 now predominant overall his thoughts assumed. But the principle, 
 thus admitted, retained its footing in his mind after the reveries 
 through which it had first found its way thither had vanished ; and 
 though it was some time before politics , beyond the range, at least, 
 of mere party tactics , began to claim his attention , all he had 
 meditated and felt among the solitude of Nova Scotia could not fail 
 to render his mind a more ready recipient for such doctrines as he 
 found prevalent on his return to Europe doctrines which , in their 
 
 1 See also "Voltaire's comparison between the boors (whom he accounts the 
 real savages) of civilized Europe and tbe tniscnlled savages of the woods of 
 America. Essai stir les Mocurs.
 
 i 7 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 47 
 
 pure and genuine form , contained all the spirit, without the extra- 
 vagance, of his own solitary dreams, and. while they would leave 
 Man in full possession of those blessings of civilization he had ac- 
 quired , but sought to restore to him some of those natural rights of 
 equality and freedom which he had lost. 
 
 " October 6th , 1788. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I sit down to write, and hardly know what to say : the sameness 
 of life I lead must make my letters very stupid; though, if it was 
 any where near you , it would be a very pleasant one. I begin to long 
 very much to see you. The truth is , that I do not know, when 1 
 am \\ith you. dearest mother, how necessary you are to me. 
 However, I contrive to be with you a great deal. I take fine long 
 \\iilks. and think of last year : I think of all our conversations, 
 our jokes, my passions when you were troublesome and fidgety : 
 I think of Sophy's ' you may pretend to look melancholy, 1 ' and 
 Lur\ 's hot cheek, stuffed up in the coach, dying to get out : I think 
 of our pleasant breakfast on the road to Orleans. In short, dearest, 
 I have you with me always ; I talk to you; I look at your meek 
 face, when you submitted to all my little tyranny. The feel of the 
 air even very often reminds me of you. We had just such a day a 
 few days ago as that when we came to Aubigny, and stopped at the 
 pleasant village. Dearest mother, when shall we have such another 
 walk? but I won't think of it any more. 
 
 " I am glad to tell you I have been five months away. By the 
 lime you get this I shall have only three months to stay : I wish I 
 could go to sleep. I hope Ogilvie will have had good shooting. If 
 your autumn is as fine as ours, he must have enjoyed it , and I hope 
 he went to shoot at Kilrush. If he did , I am sure he thought of me, 
 and wished me there , with all my bills and follies on my head. Our 
 diversion of canoeing will be soon over. We are preparing fast for 
 w inter : don't be afraid , I have got plenty of flannel , and have 
 cut up one of my blankets to make a coat. By all accounts , it will 
 bo very pleasant. I have got my snow shoes ready ; with them one 
 walks and travels easier in winter than summer : it will be quite a 
 new scene. My talk is almost out. 
 
 You need not be afraid of my constancy : I sincerely wish I 
 could be otherwise . for it makes me very miserable. My only com- 
 fort is . that I think I am taking the way to succeed , besides doing 
 what is right for every man of spirit to do. *********** 
 
 The uncertainly, however, is dreadful, and requires all Ihe resolu-
 
 48 MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 lion one is master of to make one stay. I am at limes on the point 
 of packing off, and think that seeing her looking at her dear face, 
 would be enough. But then it would be productive of no good : I 
 should be wretched disagreeable to all my friends , and not have 
 even the consolation I have here , of thinking that I am doing my 
 duty as a man and an officer. Good bye again. The faithful Tony 
 talks of you a great deal : he and I have long conversations about 
 you all every morning." 
 
 The strong sense which he entertained of his duties as an officer, 
 to which all , of all ranks , that ever served with him bear witness, 
 will be found expressed by himself, in the following letter, with 
 a simplicity and earnestness which would seem to render all further 
 testimony on this point superfluous. There is however one , among 
 the many tributes to his military character, which it would be unjust 
 to omit , that of the celebrated Mr. William Cobbett , who was , 
 at the time of which we are speaking , serjeant-major of the 54th, 
 and had even then , it is said , made himself distinguished by the 
 vigour of his talents. To Lord Edward's kindness Mr. Cobbett owed 
 his subsequent discharge from the army ' ; and, in the year 1800, 
 as he himself tells us , while dining one day with Mr. Pitt, on being 
 asked by that statesman some questions respecting his former officer, 
 he answered that " Lord Edward was a most humane and excellent 
 man , and the only really honest officer he ever knew in the army.'" 
 
 " October 28th, 1788. 
 
 " Indeed , dearest mother, being so long and far away from you 
 is terrible. To think that one is in a good way is but poor consola- 
 tion. However, on considering all things, one can reconcile one's self 
 to it now better than at any other time. Certainly, by being here now 
 for a year, I have a better plea , in case I change regiments , to stay 
 at home , than if I had remained there upon my first coming on full 
 pay. Besides, it is doing my duty myself, according to those strict 
 rules I require from others, and entering into the true, proper 
 spirit of a soldier, without which spirit a military life is and must 
 be the devil. No person of feeling and justice can require from others 
 what he won't do himself. Besides , one learns, I am sure, more in 
 half a year with one's regiment than in two years' reading. Theory 
 without practice will not do; and by being long idle, one loses 
 that confidence in one's self which is necessary for an officer who 
 is to have any command. 
 
 1 " I got my discharge from the army by the great kindness of poor Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald, who was then Major of my regiment." Cobbett 's Advice to 
 Young Men.
 
 i 7 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 49 
 
 If I had stayed, loo, I should always have been miserable 
 about G**. I could not have enjoyed any thing. I am always dis- 
 agreeable when I am in love , and perhaps you would all have grown 
 to think me disagreeable. You know , when I am with you, I forget 
 the comfort you are to me ; and I should of course not have had , as 
 now , the consciousness that 1 am doing my duty to keep me up. 
 Another thing too , I will own , that after the part dear Leinster has 
 acted , I should have been ashamed to show my face in Ireland. 
 The feel of being ashamed of the actions of one we love is dreadful , 
 and I certainly this winter would not have supported him , though 
 I would not oppose him : he would have been angry, and there 
 would have been a coolness which would have vexed me very much. 
 I have had many quiet serious hours here to think about what he 
 has done , and I cannot reconcile myself to it by any argument. His 
 conduct both to the public and individuals is not what it ought to 
 have been. In short, my dear mother, it hurts me very much, 
 though I do all I can to get the belter of it. I know it is weakness 
 and folly, but then the action is done , the shame is incurred 
 
 " Pray tell Ogilvie that I seriously beg he will not even mention 
 or do any thing about my lieut.-colonelcy. I am determined to have 
 nothing till I am out of parliament : at least I am contented with my 
 rank and my situation. I have no ambition for rank ; and however 
 I might be flattered by getting on , it would never pay me for a 
 blush for my actions. The feeling of shame is what I never could 
 bear. The niens cojtscia recti (Ogilvie will construe this for you) 
 is the only thing that makes life supportable. With the help he has 
 given , dear fellow , to Rilrush , and my present rank , I shall do 
 very well. And pray do you tell Leinster from me , that I do not 
 wish to purchase at present , or that he should do any thing about 
 a lieut.-colonelcy. I know dear Ogilvie, in his affection and eagerness 
 for me , will be provoked , but then he must consider, that , feeling 
 this way, I am right. Pray represent it strongly to him , and make 
 him remember how obstinate I am when once I take a resolution. 
 To make up for all this , tell him I am going on prudently in the 
 money way here , and am in hopes to return w ilh a little cash in 
 my pocket. 
 
 " I have been obliged to slop my studying for some time, and 
 have been employed in building huts , or rather barracks , for a 
 part of our regiment. It is a scheme of Lord Dorchester's , but he 
 had found so many difficulties opposed to it , that it was never under- 
 taken. These . however, I have got over, notw ilhstanding engineers, 
 artificers, barrack-masters, old officers, etc. etc. , and hope I shal\ 
 succeed. You may guess how eager I have been. This is all the 
 news I have about myself. Our winter is setting in violently, thank 
 
 4
 
 iO MEMOIRS 1788. 
 
 God. I shall visit you with the swallows : I wish I could be frozen 
 till then. Good bye : ten thousand loves." 
 
 The allusions , in the foregoing letter , to the Duke of Leinsler, 
 require some explanation. On the appointment of the Marquis of 
 Buckingham, for the second lime, to the Lord Lieutenancy of 
 Ireland , the popularity which his first short administration had 
 obtained , secured for him a reception of the most enthusiastic kind ; 
 and not only was the general tone of opposition considerably 
 softened down during the whole session of 1788, but some of those 
 who had been , up to this period , most constant to the whig ranks , 
 now thought themselves justified in supporting and even taking office 
 under Lord Buckingham's government. Among these new converts 
 to the Castle was the Duke of Leinster, and to his grace's desertion 
 from the standard of opposition, Lord Edward's letters, at this 
 period, allude. 
 
 " Novemter i , 1788. 
 
 MY DEAR OGILVIE , 
 
 " I am sure you will be sorry to hear you were a good prophet , 
 in foretelling that my lieut.-colonel would go home. It is exactly as 
 you said : he has taken himself off, and left me the honour .of 
 commanding the regiment here. Therefore , if I don't get the king's 
 leave, I must stay two years , if the regiment don't go home. I have 
 written to uncle Richmond , to beg he will procure me leave, or try 
 and gel the regiment home , which it is well entitled to , as it has 
 been fifteen years in this country. I think you had better not say any 
 thing of this to mother ; and caution any of them that should hear 
 of it not to mention it to her. It would really be too bad to slay here 
 
 two years. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Good bye, my good friend , I wish you a pleasant winter, but 
 am very glad I do not pass it with you , for, take all into the bargain, 
 I am certainly better here. Leinster's conduct is too foolish and loo 
 shabby I hate thinking of it ; I am determined , however, it shall 
 not vex me , but thai I may be totally clear , I must beg you will 
 not mention any thing about me to him. This hanged majority 
 brought me into one scrape unwillingly, bul for the time to come I 
 am determined to be clear. Do not , my dear friend , let your 
 eagerness for my welfare make you stir in Ihis , for you really will 
 vex me very much if you do ; you know I am an odd fellow , and 
 you must give way to me. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear dear Harry has got into a little kind of a 
 scrape with uncle Richmond about canvassing I own I think it
 
 i 7 88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 51 
 
 was natural for him todo so ; but in the particular situation of things 
 1 wish ho had not taken a part , as Charles Fox himself was not con- 
 cerned. I am glad I was away, for I certainly would nut hau 1 can- 
 vassed for Hood. Tony says, if Lord Robert goes on in the way he 
 is doing , he will soon be a major. I believe Henry and I are the 
 only two honest ones in the family." 
 
 It was, at first, evidently the intention of Lord Edward, as well 
 as of his brother, Lord Henry, not to identify themselves \vith the 
 Duke of Leinster's new line of politics, but to remain in opposition. 
 The prospect , how ever, of such a political schism in the family 
 exciting alarm in the Duke of Richmond, he addressed a letter, full 
 of affectionate remonstrance , to Lord Edw ard , who allowed himself 
 to be so far softened by his uncle's appeal as to consent that , while 
 he continued the Duke of Leinster's member, his vote should be, as 
 hitherto, at his grace's disposal. At the same time, it will be seen, 
 while yielding thus to family feelings , he took care that no views of 
 interest should be supposed to have influenced the concession , nor 
 his own future independence compromised by the acceptance of 
 any favour from those he joined. 
 
 Considering how r lax were the notions prevalent , al that period , 
 among Irishmen , of both parties, on the subjects of patronage and 
 jobbing , this sacrifice , on the part of Lord Edward , of the fondest 
 object of his ambition , military promotion , to a feeling which he 
 well knew all connected with him would consider foolishly puncti- 
 lious , required no ordinary effort of character, and most abundantly 
 disproves the story so often repeated , that to his mortification at 
 having been passed over by government on some occasion of pro- 
 motion , the whole origin of his revolutionary fervour is to be at- 
 tributed. 
 
 " IVovember 21,1 788. 
 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 ******* 
 
 " I have got a letter from uncle Richmond', which was as 
 kind as possible ; every thin? he does only makes one love him the 
 more. He says, in his letter, that, as Leinsteris come over complete- 
 ly to government , he can see no reason why I should not now act 
 with my brother and uncle. In my answer I have agreed with him , 
 and said that I certainly shall ; because , upon consideration, though 
 I think Leinster wrong , and told him so beforehand , yet as he has 
 taken that part, it would be wrong not to support biro we being 
 certainly his members , and brought in by him with an idea that he 
 might depend upon our always acting with him.
 
 .>> MEMOIRS .788 
 
 " With all (his , however, I am determined not to take any thing , 
 lieut.-colonelcy or any thing else. I wish my actions not to be biassed 
 by any such motive ; but that I may feel I am only acting in this 
 manner, because I think it right. Besides, by my taking nothing, 
 Leinster can the more easily provide for his friends , some of whom 
 he is bound in honour to make provision for. I have written to uncle 
 Richmond to this same purpose, telling how I meant to act, and 
 how I felt , and therefore trust will not persist in trying to get me a 
 lieut.-colonelcy. I am content as I am ; I am not ambitious to get 
 on. I like the service for its own sake, whether major, lieut.-colo- 
 nel , or general , it is the same to me. High rank in it , I do not as- 
 pire to if I am found fit for command , I shall get it 5 if I am not, 
 God knows , I am better without it. The sole ambition I have is to 
 be deserving : to deserve a reward is to me far pleasanter than to 
 obtain it. I am afraid you w ill all say I am foolish about this , but 
 as it is a folly that hurts nobody, it may have its fling. I will not , 
 however, trouble you any more about all this hanged stuff, for I am 
 tired of thinking of it. 
 
 " I will now give you some account of myself, what I do, and 
 /low I do. Our winter is quite set in, and the river frozen over, 
 and I am skating from morning till night. I don't know how long 
 the rage will last , but while it does , it is very pleasant : I begin 
 in the morning as soon as it is light , stay till breakfast , go out , 
 and stay again till it is time to dress and parade. Luckily, I have 
 no other necessary business now, for our drilling is over till spring , 
 except twice a week taking a good long march ; the snow, I believe, 
 will soon stop that, and then I mean to go to Quebec in snow-shoes. 
 I believe I shall be out most of the winter. I have two or three hunt- 
 ing parlies to go on . and they seldom last less than a fortnight : 
 these, and my journey to Quebec, and some excursions from thence, 
 will take up most of my winter. I long to give an account of some 
 of my trips : the idea of being out of doors , notwithstanding the in- 
 clemency of the weather, and of overcoming all the difficulties of 
 nature , by the ingenuity of man , delights- me. Every body who has 
 tried this says , it is much the warmest way of living in w inter ; for, 
 by being in the woods , you are sheltered from the winds ; and , at 
 night, by clearing away the snow, banking it up round , and in the 
 middle of the space making a large fire , you are much warmer than 
 in the best house. This is what I hear. 
 
 " You may guess how eager I am to try if I like the woods in 
 winter as well as in summer. I believe I shall never again be pre- 
 vailed on to live in a house. I long to teach you all how to make a 
 good spruce bed. Three of the coldest nights we have had yet , I 
 slept in the woods with only one blanket, and was just as comfort-
 
 i;88. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 53 
 
 able as in a room. It was in a party with Gen. Carlcton. we went 
 about twenty miles from this to look at a fine tract of land thai had 
 been passed over in winter. You may guess how I enjoyed this ex- 
 pedition , being where , in all probability, there had never been but 
 one person before ; we struck the land the first night and lay there ; 
 we spent three days afterwards in going over it. It will be now soon 
 settled. I cannot describe all the feelings one has in these excur- 
 sions , w hen one wakens , perhaps in the middle of the night , in 
 a fine open forest, all your companions snoring about you, the 
 moon shining through the trees , the burning of the fire , in short, 
 every thing strikes you. Dearest, dearest mother, how I have 
 thought of you at those times , and of all at dear Frescati ! and 
 after being tired of thinking , lying down like a dog, and falling 
 asleep lill day-break ; then getting up, no dressing, or clothing , 
 or trouble , but just giving one's self a shake , and away to the 
 spring to wash one's face. I have had two parties with the sa- 
 vages which are still pleasanter, you may guess the reason 
 there are dcs dames , who are the most comical creatures in the 
 world." 
 
 " December, 1788. 
 
 " MY DEAR OGILVIE, 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your comfortable long letter of 
 September 25th. I am not affronted at your remark on a ' paucity 
 of ideas ' and ' an empty skull ,' and agree with you , that they are 
 great blessings. Notwithstanding you declare you did not mean vie , 
 yet I do plead a little guilty to a ' paucity of ideas.' I like my mo- 
 ther's thinking I should be affronted ! Tell her that in New Bruns- 
 wick one cannot afford to be affronted with those one loves. One of 
 the good things we learn by absence from friends is , seeing the 
 folly of being huffed or affronted at trifles. I often think now, wha^ 
 a number of happy times I have lost by being angry at things that 
 have passed when we were all together ; whereas here , where I am 
 among people I don't care much for, I am never out of temper. It 
 really is, when one considers it, loo ridiculous." 
 
 " February 2, 1789. 
 
 tk You see, my dear O., by this letter that though you have not 
 heard from me , it is not my fault. Ever since the setting in of winter 
 we have been blocked up , and have had no communication with 
 New York , where all the packets go now. I have been snow -shoeing 
 continually, reading a good deal, and improving, I think, in my 
 profession. If I had some of the people 1 loved with me, I should 
 lead a happy life. the only draw-back 1 have is the distance from 
 them.
 
 54 MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 " I have been out hunting , and like it very much , it makes 
 me un pen sauvage , to be sure. I am to set out in two days for 
 Canada ; it is a journey of one hundred and seventy-five miles , and 
 I go straight through the woods. There is an officer of the regiment 
 goes with me. We make altogether a party of five , Tony , l\v<> 
 woodsmen, the officer, and myself. We take all our provision with 
 us on tabargins. It will appear strange to you , or any people in 
 England , to think of starling in February, with four feet snow on 
 the ground , to march through a desert wood of one hundred and 
 seventy-five miles ; but it is nothing. You may guess we have not 
 much baggage. It will be a charming journey, I think , and quite 
 new. We are to keep a reckoning the same as at sea. I am to steer, 
 but under the direction of a woodsman. I was out on an excursion 
 the other day, and steered the whole way, and though I traversed 
 a great deal in between thirty and thirty-five miles , out and in , I 
 was not a half-mile out of my course where I intended to strike. 
 
 " Besides this being a pleasant journey, it will be also instructive, 
 as I go through the frontiers of our provinces , and see the kind of 
 country, if ever there is a war, that we are likely to act in. A jour- 
 ney, too , of this kind , opens one's eyes with regard to what men 
 can do , and shows that there is almost no difficulty that cannot be 
 overcome by the perseverance and ingenuity of man. It certainly 
 would appear odd to a European officer , who had not passed a 
 winter here , to be told that winter would be the best time to move 
 troops ; and yet , from what I have seen , I am almost confident it 
 would be so. However , I shall know better after my journey. I 
 really believe the only difficult part would be, getting over the pre- 
 judice of obstinate fools. General Carleton , who has seen a great 
 deal of service , is of my opinion : he began to try it the latter end 
 of last war, and succeeded so far as to get his regiment on snow- 
 shoes , but had not tried any long marches , and since the war it has 
 fallen through. I wanted to get snow-shoes for our men this year, 
 but it was too expensive. 
 
 " You may judge, with all these ideas floating in my head, how 
 I long to be on my journey : our route will be quite a new one , and 
 has not yet been gone by any body except Indians. How delightful 
 it will be when we strike the river St. Lawrence , after being about 
 twenty days in the woods , while , on the road , every river, or any 
 thing else we meet, will be a kind of discovery! Our course is to 
 be north , 60 30' west : but I fear I shall lire you with all this , 
 so I won't trouble you any more. When at Quebec , I will write to 
 you. As soon as we are well rested , I propose selling out from 
 thence to Niagara ; but my letter from Quebec will inform you
 
 1789. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 
 
 better of my schemes , as I shall know more of the mailer then ; 
 and while there , I expect to get letters from some of you. 
 
 " I have mislaid your letter, but remember you say something 
 about a road : I certainly did order Feniarly to do it. Les absens 
 ont toujours tori ; therefore T must pay for it. It would be too bad 
 to let the poor man suiter : pray tell Wolf I feel very much obliged 
 to him for the pains he has been at about it. I think it very shabby 
 in the olher gentlemen of the counly lo have taken advantage of 
 my absence , but I believe there in un bien clique of fellows in 
 that county : pray do not let any of them into Kilrush, for they will 
 only distress and domineer over the poor tenants. I am glad lo hear 
 that, upon the whole, the lillle spot gels on. I believe you will 
 make something of it at last. So much for business. I have only 
 spent my pay yet , and shall not want any money till I go home. I 
 am richer than ever I was yet. I have always 25J. or 30/. lo Ihe 
 good , and pay ready money. I have given away a good deal besides 
 more than I did at home. I certainly manage very well. 
 ********* 
 
 " Give my love lo all the dear girls. Tell them I am as great a fool 
 as ever : I am afraid that it will stick to me all the days of my life. 
 I often long to lay aside the character of major commanding his 
 majesty's regiment, to play the fool and buffoon-, I am sure if 
 Ciss was here I should. I know Ihis will provoke you. 
 
 " God bless you , my dear Ogilvie. Ten Ihousand loves to dearest 
 mother. Tell her le petit sauvage will think of her often in the 
 woods. Indeed , the more savage I am , the more I love her. She 
 has a rope about my heart lhal gives hard tugs at it , and it is all I 
 can do not to give way. Good bye again. I hale ending a leller." 
 
 " Quebec , March 14 , 1789. 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I got here yesterday, after a very long, and what some people 
 would think , a very tedious and fatiguing journey ; but to me it was 
 at worst only a little fatiguing ; and , to make up for that, it was de- 
 lightful , and quite new. We were thirty days on our march , twenly- 
 six of which we were in Ihe wood , and never saw a soul but our own 
 party. 
 
 " You must know we came Ihrough a part of Ihe country that had 
 been always reckoned impassable. In short , instead of going a long 
 way about, we determined lo Iry and get straight through the woods, 
 and see what kind of country it was. I believe I mentioned my parly 
 in a letter lo Ogilvie before I left St. Anne's or Frederickslown : it
 
 56 MEMOIRS .789. 
 
 was an officer of the regiment , Tony, and two woodsmen. The offi- 
 cer and I used to draw part of our baggage day about, and the other 
 day steer, which we did so well , that we made the point we intended 
 within ten miles. We were only wrong in computing our distances, 
 and making them a little too great , which obliged us to follow a new 
 course , and make a river which led us round to Quebec , instead of 
 going straight to it. However, we gained by it ; for though , when 
 we took the river, we were only twenty miles from Quebec, yet 
 the country between was so mountainous and bad , we should have 
 been two days longer than by the river. I am talking , I fear, un- 
 intelligible language to you , but I hope soon , dear, dear mother, to 
 explain it. 
 
 " I expect my leave by the first despatches, and will lose no time 
 when I get it. I shall not be able to leave this part of the world till 
 May, as I cannot get my leave before that. How I do long to see you! 
 Your old love, Lord Dorchester, is very civil to me. I must, though, 
 tell you a little more of the journey : after making the river, we fell 
 in with some savages, and travelled with them to Quebec ; they were 
 very kind to us , and said we were ' all one brother 1 all ' one In- 
 dian. 1 They fed us the whole lime we were with them. You would 
 have laughed to have seen me carrying an old squaw's pack, which 
 was so heavy I could hardly waddle under it. However, I was well 
 paid whenever we stopped, for she always gave me the best bits, and 
 most soup , and look as much care of me as if I had been her own 
 son : in short, I was quite I' enfant cheri. We were quite sorry to 
 part : the old lady and gentleman both kissed me very heartily. I 
 gave the old lady one of Sophia's silver spoons , which pleased her 
 very much. 
 
 " When we got here, you may guess what figures we were : we 
 had nol shaven or washed during Ihe journey ; our blanket-coats , 
 and trousers , all worn out and pieced : in short , we went to two 
 or three houses and they would not let us in. There was one old 
 lady, exactly the hotesse in Gil Bias, elle me prit la mesure du 
 piedjiisqu'a la tete , and told me there was one room, wilhout a 
 stove or bed, next a billiard-room, which I might have if I pleased ; 
 and when I told her we were gentlemen , she very quietly said , ' I 
 dare say you are,' and off she went. However, at last we got lodgings 
 in an ale-house, and you may guess eat well and slept well, and 
 went next day, well dressed , with one of Lord Dorchester's aides- 
 de-camp to triumph over the old lady ; in short, exactly the story 
 in Gil Bias. We are quite curiosities here after our journey, some 
 think we were mad to undertake it ; some think we were lost ; some 
 will have it we were starved ; in short, there are a thousand lies, 
 faul we are safe and well , enjoying rest and good eating most com-
 
 1789. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 57 
 
 pletely. One ought really lo take these fillips now and then ; they 
 make one enjoy life a great deal more. 
 
 " The hours here are a liltle inconvenient lo us as yet : whenever 
 we wake at night, we want to eat, the same as in the woods, and 
 as soon as we eat , we want lo sleep. In our journey we were always 
 up two hours before day to load and get ready to march ; we used 
 to stop between three and four, and it generally look us from that 
 till night to shovel out the snow, cut wood, cook, and get ready for 
 night; so that immediately after our suppers, we were asleep, and 
 whenever any one wakes in the night , he puts some wood on the 
 fire, and eats a bit before he lies down again; bul for my part, I 
 was not much troubled with waking in the night. 
 
 " I really do think there is no luxury equal to that of lying before 
 a good fire on a good spruce bed , after a good supper, and a hard 
 moose chase in a fine clear frosty moonlight starry night. But to 
 enter into the spirit of this , you must understand what a moose 
 chase is : Ihe man himself runs Ihe moose down by pursuing the 
 track. Your success in killing depends on Ihe number of people you 
 have to pursue and relieve one another in going first (which is the 
 fatiguing part of snow-shoeing), and on Ihe depth and hardness of 
 the snow ; for when the snow is hard, and has a crust, the moose 
 cannot get on , as it cuts his legs, and then he slops to make battle. 
 Bul when the snow is soft, though it be above his belly, he will go 
 on, three, four, or five days, for then the man cannot get on so fast, 
 as the snow is heavy, and he only gets his game by perseverance, 
 an Indian never gives him up. 
 
 " We had a fine chase after one , and ran him down in a day and 
 a half, though the snow was very soft, but it was so deep the animal 
 was up to his belly every slep. We started him about twelve o'clock 
 one day, left our bagage, look three days' bread, two days' pork, our 
 axe and fireworks , and pursued. He beat us at first all to nothing ; 
 towards evening we had a sight of him , but he beat us again : we 
 encamped that nighl, eat our bit of pork , and gave chase again , a& 
 soon as we could see the track in the morning. In about an hour 
 we roused (he fellow again , and off he set , fresh to all appearance 
 as ever ; but in about Iwo hours after we perceived his steps grew 
 shorter, and some time after we got sight. He still , however, beat 
 us; bul at last we evidently perceived he began to Jire; we saw he 
 began lo lurn oftener ; we gol accordingly courage, and pursued 
 fasler, and al lasl. for Ihree quarters of an hour, in fine open wood, 
 pursued him all the way in sight , and came within shot ; he 
 stopped , but in vain , poor animal. 
 
 " I cannot help being sorry now for the poor creature, and was 
 then. At first it was charming, but as soon as we had him in our
 
 58 MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 power, il was melancholy -, however, it was soon over, and it was 
 no pain to him. If it was not for this last part, it would be a 
 delightful amusement. I am sorry to say, though, that in a few 
 hours the good passion wore off, and the animal one predominated. 
 I enjoyed most heartily the eating him and cooking him : in short, 
 I forgot the animal, and only thought of my hunger and faligue. We 
 are beasts, dearest mother, I am sorry to say it. In two days after, 
 we joined our baggage, and pursued our journey. 
 
 " My letter is getting too long, and all about myself 5 you know 
 I hate that, but I must give you some of my intended motions. I 
 set out for Niagara, as soon as possible, and by my return expect to 
 find my leave , and a ship to take me to my dearest mother. God 
 alone knows how I long to be with you! my heart cannot be content 
 while I am so far away from you. Give my love to all. How I long 
 to feel all your arms about my neck! but, if I give way to these 
 thoughts, I shall be good for nothing. As it is, I am always low spirit- 
 ed after writing, for two days at least: otherwise perfectly well. 
 I am sure il will be pleasant to you to find that cold as well as heat 
 agrees with me; so you may be always easy about me, dearest 
 mother. If G** should love me, when I go home, I shall be the 
 happiest fellow in the world, that is the only drawback I feel in 
 the happiness of seeing you all so soon. 
 
 "Pray write to uncle Richmond 5 I would write, if there was 
 lime, but I have only time to fill up this. Give my affectionate love 
 to him. Ten thousand million blessings attend you all , dearest , 
 dearest mother. I will see you soon, what happiness! It has been 
 a long year, but I did all I could to shorten it. I wish I was in the 
 woods, tired and sleepy, I should soon forget you all. Love to dear 
 aunt Louisa. When I end a letter, the thoughts of you all come so 
 thick upon me , I don't know which to speak to, so in a lump, 
 God bless you, men, women, and children. I am going foolish. 
 
 " E. F." 
 
 While his lordship was engaged in Ihis difficult and adventurous 
 journey, out of which none but a spirit and frame hardy as his own 
 could have contrived to extracl enjoymenl , affairs inleresting both 
 to his family and himself were laking place in England , where, on 
 account of Ihe serious illness of the king, at the commencement of 
 the year, it had become necessary to bring under the consideration 
 of Parliament the speedy establishment of a Regency. The Duke of 
 Leinster, whose late desertion from the ranks of the Opposition had 
 been regarded less , perhaps , with anger lhan regret by his party, 
 was now, by lifeline he look on the great question of the Regency, 
 in the Irish House of Lords , restored to his natural position ; and
 
 1789. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 59 
 
 \vas one of the personages deputed to carry that memorable Address 
 lo the Prince of Wales , on which, from the glimpse it gave of the 
 consequences likely to arise from the exercise of a separate will by 
 Ireland, was founded one of the most plausible pretexts for the 
 extinction of her Legislature. 
 
 The following letter of Mr. Fox to Lord Henry Fitzgerald , 
 written during the progress of the Regency Bill through Parliament, 
 will show that Mr. Fox's opinion of the short aberration of the Duke 
 of Leinster coincided with that of Lord Edward ; and may also convey 
 some notion of the kind and friendly interest with which the latter 
 was always regarded by that distinguished statesman. 
 
 " Bath , February i, 1789. 
 
 "MY DEAR HENRY, 
 
 " I am sure you will not much wonder at my not having yet 
 answered your letter, when you consider that I have had both 
 sickness and business to prevent me. You may assure the Duke of 
 Lcinster from me, that nothing can give me greater satisfaction than 
 the prospect of our acting together in politics , and you know, 
 though I could not so far dissemble as to say I approved of what I 
 did not, I never had a feeling towards him inconsistent with that 
 kindness which naturally belongs to so long , and in the earlier 
 part of our lives, so very intimate an acquaintance. With respect lo 
 you and Edward, I must be ungrateful indeed, if I did not consider 
 the opportunity of showing my friendship to you two, as one of the 
 pleasantest circumstances attending power. One of the first acts of 
 the Regency will be to make Edward lieut. -colonel of the Royal 
 Irish ; and if a scheme, which is in agitation, takes place , I think 
 I shall have an opportunity of getting for you , too, a lift in your 
 profession, which I take for granted is your principal object. As I 
 shall probably return to my old office of Foreign Affairs , I should 
 be glad lo know whether you or Edward have any inclination to 
 Ibrrign employment, thai I may have a view lo your wishes in 
 future arrangements. With regard lo Lord Robert, he must wait a 
 little; but if our administration continues, you may be assured that 
 lu's prospects shall not be the worse for one cousin being in power 
 rather Hum another. Pray give my love to the D. L., and believe 
 me, my dear Henry, 
 
 " Most sincerely yours , 
 
 "C.J. Fox." 
 
 The plan of Lord Edward's route through the woods , was for- 
 warded from Quebec lo the Duke of Richmond, by Mr. Hamilton 
 Moore, with the letter that follows :
 
 60 MEMOIRS 1789 
 
 "Quebec, May 22, 1789 
 
 " MY LORD DUKE, 
 
 " I take the liberty of enclosing to your grace , by the hands of 
 Mr. Jones , a sketch of Lord Edward's route from Frederickstown , 
 in New Brunswick , to this place. It was really an arduous and 
 dangerous undertaking, entirely through uninhabited woods, mo- 
 rasses , and mountains , a route never before attempted , even by 
 the Indians. He was only attended by a Mr. Brisbane , a brother 
 officer, and his own servant. In such expeditions lord and servant 
 are alike , for each must carry his own provisions. They accom- 
 plished the journey in twenty-six days, lying out of course at night in 
 the woods , without any covering except their blanket-coats. They 
 steered by compass, and so well as to enter the river Si-Lawrence , 
 within a league of Quebec, in a direct line from Frederickstown. 
 Your grace will perceive the journey was accomplished in 175 miles, 
 the way always before travelled , by the rivers St. John , Mad- 
 waska, and Kamouraska, being at least 375 miles. 
 
 " Lord Edward left this the latter end of April in high health 
 and spirits , on his route to Europe , by the river Missisippi and 
 the Gulf of Mexico , and through New Spain ; it will be a tedious 
 journey, the entrance of the river being upwards of 600 leagues 
 from hence. I shall perhaps hear of Lord Edward on his journey ^ 
 any thing that occurs , the least interesting to your grace's family, 
 I shall take the liberty of communicating, as a countryman feeling 
 highly interested for every branch of it. Lord Edward has met with 
 the esteem and admiration of all here, and, I must say, without 
 flattery, deservedly so and I hope yet to see him at the head of 
 his profession , for which he seems so well formed. 
 " I have the honour to be , etc. 
 
 " HAMILTON MOORE." 
 
 V 
 
 "Quebec, April isth, 1789 
 
 " MY DEAR OGILVIE , 
 
 " You or my mother will have got by this lime the letter I wrote 
 on my arrival. I had not Ihen perfeclly delermined on my future 
 movements, but my plans are now all fixed. I found, upon inquiry, 
 that there was no gelling from hence directly lill June. I therefore 
 determined to make the best of my time here, by seeing all our 
 outposts, and to do that perfeclly it will take me to the month of 
 July, as they are more extensive lhan 1 thought. Now when I get to 
 the upper country, it will not make more than a month's difference 
 whether I go down the Missisippi to New Orleans or return here.
 
 1789- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. <;i 
 
 I have Iherefore resolved to take that tour : it will , to be sure , 
 make three months 1 difference , in the lime of sieng you ; but then 
 I really think the object is worth while, I can never have such 
 another opportunity : certainly I shall never be here again at twenty- 
 five, and in good health. 
 
 " T have a great many struggles with myself about it : the 
 temptation of going home and seeing you all, and living quietly 
 with you at Frescati till the regiment returns , is very great. But 
 then again the curiosity I have to make this tour, and I may say, 
 indeed, I always have had the desire, though I thought it very 
 unlikely I should ever be able to put it in execution. Then again 
 when I consider that I shall see a country which must soon be a 
 scene of action, and that very probably I may be myself employed 
 there, I am spurred on to undertake it. I have, besides, some schemes 
 of my own , which this journey will be of great use in clearing up 
 my ideas upon : they are too long to mention now, but when we 
 meet we will talk them over. 
 
 "You see I either have, or fancy I have, good reasons for 
 undertaking the journey ; at home you will think it , perhaps , a 
 little mad, but if you were here I am sure you would do it yourself. 
 It will be a little fatiguing , but that you know I don't mind. It will 
 not be very expensive , particularly as I go all the first part with a 
 relief of troops that are proceeding up as far as Lake Superior. I 
 am not quite determined whether I will go up quite so far, perhaps 
 only as far as Detroit, fron; that to the Fort Pitt , and from thence 
 to the Ohio , and down it to the Missisippi. However, before I set 
 off you shall hear. When once I begin to go south, I shall go faster 
 than my letter. 
 
 " I long to set out. You cannot think how eager I am about this 
 journey j'ai Id tete montee about it. If it were not for the lime 
 it will keep me from dearest , dearest mother, I should be perfectly 
 happy in the idea of it ; but then again , when I think the little 
 difference it will make , and that the longer one is away the hap- 
 pier one is to meet , and that I shall have so much to tell her ! 
 why I shall have stories enough to set her to sleep for a year. I 
 expect in the winter to have you all about me , listening to all the 
 wonders I have seen. 
 
 " I heard about you all from a woman here , an acquaintance of 
 Airs. Ward's, but I have not had any letters from yourselves since 
 November. It is terrible to be so long without letters, but as I heard 
 you were all well , I am easy. We are all anxious here to know 
 about the Regency. I have no idea what turn affairs will lake : there 
 certainly will be great confusion. I am afraid il will be of dis-ser\in>
 
 G2 MEMOIRS I7 8 9 . 
 
 lo England in the present state of Europe ; but it will be all settled 
 by the lime I come , so I won't trouble my brain about it. 
 
 * * * * V -K * 
 
 " How did poor Kilrush do this summer? I should like to hear 
 about it. I will write to mother by another post , that goes from this 
 on the 18th , though I own I am a little afraid. I know she will be 
 angry with me for a short while , but you must take my part. Dear 
 
 soul , when she reflects , she will forgive me, for she is all reason. 
 
 -* * * * * * * 
 
 " Since I began this, the lieut.-governor of Quebec is dead. It 
 is a place of 16007. a year, and I think would do very well for 
 Charles. The day before he died I was in treaty for his lieut.- 
 colonelcy, in the 44th regiment. If he had lived two days longer, I 
 should have had it. We are here so ignorant about the politics in 
 England, one does not know how to try for it. In case the ministry 
 are changed, Leinster cannot with conscience ask any thing ; and, 
 if he goes out, I certainly would not go against him and the Duke 
 of Richmond for all the lieut.-colonelcies in the world, If there is a 
 change, he and Charles will be a little puzzled ; but 1 would at any 
 lime rather go out with them than in with them." 
 
 " Montreal, May 4th, 1789. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I have been here a week, and set off in a few hours lo begin 
 my long journey. The weather is charming, no snow, every 
 thing green : but Emily Montague will tell you all that belter than 
 I can. Really, after our long winter, we do enjoy spring. Ten days 
 ago, I set out from Quebec in five feet of snow. I am delighted to 
 be on the go again. I shall see Niagara in high perfection. I am in 
 good health and in good spirits. I heard from a gentleman here 
 about you all : you were all well , thank God ; but 1 have not heard 
 myself a great while , though I wish lo hear. I believe it is better 
 not, for I should want to go home, and not see all I inlend lo do : 
 at present , je m'etourdis la-dessus; and I am determined to make 
 use of my time. One of your letters would weaken me, dear mother; 
 and, till I see you, the less I think of you the belter. When once 1 
 get home , I shall slick close for a great while. 
 
 " I have nolhing new to tell you , for at Quebec and here I have 
 done nothing but feast , and I am horribly tired of it : my letters 
 from up the country will be plcasanler. The Canadians are good 
 people, very like the French, and of course I like them. There 
 was one family at Quebec very pleasant and very good to me , a 
 mother and two pretty daughters. Don't be afraid I was not in love.
 
 i?8g. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 63 
 
 We were very sorry to part. However, it did not last long. I tell it 
 you, because it was the only kind feel I have had for a woman since 
 I left England. I wish it had lasted a little longer. 
 
 " What would I give to hear a pleasant account of G**I but I 
 despair so will not think of it. I suppose Fred, is married by this 
 time. I should like to hear how you have gone on with the dear, 
 dear girls in London ; but I won't think of or about any of you. Love 
 to every body. God bless you, dearest, dearest mother how I 
 long to be with you ! I am an odd fellow. Good bye. I won't let 
 myself think of you again till I am in the Missisippi." 
 
 " Fort Erie , June i , 1789. 
 
 *' DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I am just come from the Falls of Niagara. To describe them is 
 impossible. I stayed three days admiring, and was absolutely obliged 
 to tear myself away at last. As I said before, to describe them would 
 be impossible : Homer could not in writing, nor Claude Lorraine 
 in painting : your own imagination must do it. The immense height 
 and noise of the Falls , the spray that rises to the clouds in short , 
 it forms all together a scene that is well worth the trouble of 
 coming from Europe to see. Then, the greenness and tranquillity 
 of every thing about , the quiet of the immense forest around , 
 compared with the violence of all that is close to the Falls, but I 
 
 will not go on , for I should never end. 
 
 ******* 
 
 "I set out to-morrow for Detroit : I go with one of the Indian 
 chiefs , Joseph Brant , he that was in England. We have taken very 
 much to one another. I shall entertain you very much with his 
 remarks on England , and the English , while he was there. Instead 
 of crossing Lake Erie in a ship , I go in canoes up and down rivers. 
 In crossing Lake Ontario , I was as sick as at sea , so you may 
 guess I prefer canoeing; besides, my friend Joseph always travels 
 with company ; and we shall go through a number of Indian villages. 
 If you only slop an hour, they have a dance for you. They are 
 delightful people ; the ladies charming , and with manners that I 
 like very much , they are so natural. Notwithstanding the life they 
 lead , which would make most women rough and masculine , they 
 are as soft , meek , and modest as the best brought up girls in 
 England. At the same time, they are coquettes au possible. Conceive 
 the manners of Mimi in a poor squaw, that has been carrying 
 packs in the woods all her life. 
 
 " I must make haste and finish my letter, for I am just going to 
 set off. 1 shall be at Michilimackinack in nineteen days. My journey
 
 64 MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 then will be soon over, for from that I shall soon reach the Missisippi, 
 and down it to New Orleans , and then to my dearest mother to 
 Frescali, to relate all my journey in the little book-room. I shall 
 then be happy. Give my love to all. I think often of you all in these 
 wild woods : they are better than rooms. Ireland and England will 
 be too little for me when I go home. If I could carry my dearest 
 mother about with me , I should be completely happy here." 
 
 " Detroit, June 20. 
 
 " MY DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " It is so hot I can hardly hold the pen. My hand trembles so, 
 you will be hardly able to read my letter. My journey quite an- 
 swered my expectations. I set out to-morrow for Michilimackinack, 
 and then down the Missisippi. I am in rude health. As soon as I get 
 to the Missisippi I reckon my journey half over. I can say no more, 
 for really it is too hot for any thing but lying on a mat. Entre 
 nous, I am in a little sorrow, as I am too part to-morrow with a 
 fellow-traveller who has been very pleasant and taken great care of 
 me : les plus courtes folies sont les meilleures. I have been 
 adopted by one of the Nations, and am now a thorough Indian." 
 
 His adoption by the native Indians, which he here mentions, took 
 place at Detroit, through the medium of the Chief of the Six Nations, 
 David Hill, by whom he was formally inducted into the Bear Tribe, 
 and made one of their Chiefs. The document by which this wild 
 honour was conferred upon him has been preserved among his 
 papers , and is , in Indian and English , as follows : 
 
 " David Hill's letter to Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Chief of the 
 Bear Tribe. 
 
 " Waghgongh Sen non Fryer 
 Ne nen Seghyrage ni i 
 Ye Say ats Eghnidal 
 Ethonayyere David Hill 
 
 Karonghyontye 
 
 lyogh Saghnontyon 
 
 21 June, 1789. - 
 
 " I, David Hill, Chief of the Six Nations, give the name 
 of Eghnidal to my friend Lord Edward Fitzgerald) for which 
 I hope he will remember me as long as he lives. 
 
 ' The name belongs to the Bear Tribe"
 
 1789. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. OS 
 
 " Michilimackinack . 
 Jnl J"9 '789 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I know you will be a little angry with me for undertaking (his 
 long journey. I really believe that had I thought it would have taken 
 me so much lime I should not have begun it ; but as I have got 
 so far, it would be foolish not to continue and finish it well. I have 
 now but one month more of hard work to gain the Missisippi, and 
 then I shall get on easily. However, I am afraid the different 
 embarkations , and the chance of not finding ships ready, will 
 prevent my being in England till February. 
 
 ' w What vexes me most is that you will be uneasy at not hearing 
 from me during that lime. But then you may rest assured , dearest 
 molher, that I am quite well all the time , for this going about 
 keeps me in perfect health. I have not had so much as a finger-ache 
 since I left England , and if it was not for my absence from you, I 
 should be perfectly happy. Even if I Was at home, being with you 
 would be my only comfort ; for though I force myself not to think 
 of * * here , and go on very well , yet if I were near her, I should, 
 1 know, get unhappy again-, and it would end in my going to 
 Germany or Russia , which would be still worse than this. When I 
 am not happy, I must either be soldiering or preparing to be a sol- 
 dier. which is w hat I think I am doing in this journey, for slay 
 quiet, I believe, I cannot. W T hy did you give me either such a 
 head or such a heart? I don't know which it is; but, dearest 
 mother, once I get home, you shall do what you please with me, 
 and chain me down to Frescati. 
 
 I long to be set a-going again, it is the only chance I have. 
 I set out to-morrow. I have got a cwK>e, wilh five men, every 
 thing is laid in : I am obliged lo have one to myself to carry a few 
 presents for the Indian villages I pass through. Except Indian corn 
 and grease, we depend entirely on chance for every thing else. 
 You cannot conceive how r pleasant this way of travelling is : it is 
 a hunting or shooting parly the whole way. I find I can live very 
 well on Indian corn and grease : it sounds bad, but it is not so : 
 I ate nothing else for four days coming here. Few people know 
 how little is necessary to live. What is called and thought hardship 
 is nothing : one" unhappy feeling is worse than a thousand years 
 of it. 
 
 " The Canadian engages here live on nothing but two hand- 
 fuls of corn and an ounce of gre se per day, and work and sing 
 the whole day. It is very pleasant lo Iravel wilh them. They sing 
 all day. and keep lime wilh their paddles : their livrl\- ?ny. saru
 
 Mi MEMOIRS 1789 
 
 souci French blood never leaves Ihern : they arc the same in Ame- 
 rica as in France. This next part of the journey will be , I think , 
 the most interesting and agreeable I have had yet, as the people I 
 go among live more in their own way, and have less connexion 
 with Europeans. It will give a long story for Black Hock." 
 
 We have seen how sanguinely, throughout the greater part of 
 his journey, he still cherished the thought that , even yet , the fond 
 prayer of his heart might be granted, and the young person he so 
 tenderly loved become his own. But this dream was, unfortunately, 
 soon to have an end. At the beginning of December, having descend- 
 ed the Missisippi , he arrived at New Orleans. It had been his 
 wish to extend his journey still further, and to pay a visit to the 
 Silver Mines of Spanish America ; but , on applying to the proper 
 authorities for permission , it was , as we learn from his own let- 
 ters , refused to him. His friends at home , indeed, had heard with 
 considerable apprehension of his purposed visit to the Mines; as, 
 in the event of a war, which, seemed now inevitable , between Eng- 
 land and Spain , such a journey would be attended with embarrass- 
 ment, if not danger. The refusal, however, of the Mexican governor 
 lo give him permission , put a slop to his design ; and he was now, 
 therefore , on the wing for his beloved home , anticipating all the 
 welcome and the happiness which his own affection , he could not 
 but feel , deserved. 
 
 It was at this very moment, while so fondly persuading him- 
 self that the fair object of his passion might , one day, be his own, 
 he received intelligence that, in the month of April preceding, 
 she had become the wife of another. Such a shock , to a heart 
 buoyant as his , came but the heavier for the self-illusion he had 
 been indulging ; and , had it not been for his mother, whose exist- 
 ence , he knew , was locked up in his , it may be doubted whether 
 he would ever again have returned to England. 
 
 The two following letters to his brother Lord Robert (of which I 
 find copies among the papers in my possession ) were the last that 
 he now wrote from America; and the subdued tone in which he here 
 speaks on the subject nearest his heart, onjy shows how deep and 
 strong must have been the feeling that required such an effort of 
 self-control in the expression of it. 
 
 " Kuev'a Orleans, 7 Dec. 1789. 
 " QUEIUDO ROBERTO , 
 
 " To maravillaras nmclio al rccibir una carta mia , su fc-olia en est;i 
 plaza. La dirigo por el Cabo Frances, y yo picnso salir do aqm'alfin 
 Jc KUITO <> principle do Febrero en uu harco quc saldra directamente
 
 i-S 9 . OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. fi7 
 
 para Londres. For el Correo de la. Europa vco que eres venladeramente 
 f'lcnipo-Bo/j. Te felicito , y me alegro por la satisfarcion que cunozco 
 te causa. Las u hi mas tuyas que he recebido son con iechas de Ahril. 
 Ala verdad no me dieron las noticias mas agradables ; pero me con- 
 forme con llevar con paciencia las vicisiltidcs Iminaiias , pensando en 
 eslo como uno verdadero filosofo, y ya no pienso mas en ellas ; porqnc 
 mi feliz lemperamenlo no me permite pensar macho ticinpo en cosas 
 desagradables. 
 
 " Di a nuestra amada inadre (jue me mantcngo siempre bueno , y 
 alegre , a excepcion de aquellos ratos ( que son frecuenles ) que se me 
 presenta a la memoria. Dile que me he aplicado al estudio de la lengna 
 espanola a fin de ahorrarme de algun modo la iniifil pena de pensar 
 oontinuamente en un objeto cuya vista separa tanta distancia , agua 
 y tierra : alguiia vez es mas fuerte que yo , y entonces no soy bueno 
 para nada. 
 
 " Celebro mucho saber el casamiento de Carlota : y espero que estara 
 de vuelta antes que yo llegue. Pudiera escribirte y decirte mas ; pero 
 oomo ingenue arriba , cuando pienso en mi tierra y en alguno de vo- 
 sotros , me lleno de melancoh'a , y asi concluire mi carta. 
 
 " Manifesta a todos mi carino , sin olvidar a mi amado Henrique , 
 se que esta enojado conmigo porque estoy ausente tanto tiempo. Dentro 
 ouatro meses espero dar un abrazo a todos. Recelo que estaras tu ausente 
 pero no sera por mucho tiempo sin verte. 
 
 " Adios , querido Roberto : soy todo a ti. 
 
 " E. FITZGERALD. 
 
 
 ' Te escribiera mucho sobre esle pais . pero una carta Espanol e5 
 xma obra dificil y muy trabaxera para mi." 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 " New Orleans, Dec. 7th, 1789. 
 DEAR ROBER-I 
 
 " You will be surprised al receiving a letter from me at this 
 place. I send it by the Cap Francais, and expect to embark from 
 hence myself about the end of January, or in the beginning of 
 February next , on board a vessel which is bound directly to Lon- 
 don. By the Courier de I Europe , I see that you are now really 
 Plenipo-Bob. I congratulate you , and rejoice in the satisfaction I 
 know that gives you. Your last letters which I have received were 
 written in April. In truth they did not bring me the most agreeable 
 news, but I submit with patience to all human vicissitudes.
 
 C8 MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 " Tell our much-loved mother that I am very well, and in 
 good spirits , excepting when those crosses which are frequent with 
 me present themselves to my thoughts ' Tell her that I have applied 
 to the Spanish language, with a view to divert my mind in some 
 way or other from the unnecessary pain of thinking constantly of 
 an object from the sight of whom so great a distance both by sea 
 and land divides me. The least reflection overcomes me , and then 
 I am good for nothing. 
 
 " I rejoice to hear of Charlotte's marriage , and hope she ma\ 
 be returned before I arrive. I could write to you and tell you 
 more; but, as it constantly happens, when I think of my own 
 country and of any one of you, I fill with melancholy, and must 
 therefore conclude my letter. Present my love to all , without for- 
 getting my dear Henry, who is angry with me for remaining so 
 long absent. Within four months' time I hope to embrace you all. I 
 grieve that you should be absent , but it shall not be long before 1 
 shall see you likewise. 
 
 " Adieu , dear Robert : I am altogether yours, 
 
 ' l E. F. 
 
 " I should have written much to you about this country, but 
 a letter in Spanish is a difficult and laborious undertaking for me." 
 
 " New Orleans, Dec. a6th, 7789. 
 
 " MY DEA.REST BOB, 
 
 " I wrote to you a few days ago fn Spanish , and sent m\ 
 letter by the Havannah to Cadiz, from whence it will be for- 
 warded to you by Mr. Duff, our consul there. This goes by 
 Marseilles , and the longer will be a surer method of your hear- 
 ing. I have not been able to write home from hence , so the first 
 tidings they will get will be from you. I have been occupying myself 
 here learning Spanish . in hopes of getting leave to go to the Havan- 
 nah or Mexico ; but as Ihe governor here could not give leave him- 
 self , he wrote to ask it for me and was Refused , so that I must keep 
 my Spanish for another opportunity. 
 
 " You may guess my impatience to get home. I set off in six 
 weeks in a ship bound for London , so that very likely I may be 
 home before you receive this. I have seen some newspapers which 
 mention you as being at Paris. My last letters were in May. I bore 
 all the account of G * * tolerably well. I must say with Cardenio . 
 ' Los qiie han levantado xu. hermosura , han derribado su.s 
 obras. Par alii entnidi (/u<' cm nn^rl , y rtor ettas conozco 
 que era mugcr. Ouede ella en paz , rf causado de mi guerra ,
 
 1789. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. CD 
 
 y liaga at Cielo , que ella no quedc arrepentida de lo que ha 
 hccho." 1 But this is enough on this disagreeable subject. 
 
 " I am now quite stout . and think of nothing but being a good 
 soldier. To be sure, if it was not for dearest mother, I believe 
 I should not return to England for some lime. God , how happy 
 I shall be to see you all ! Dearest Robert , I cannot express how 
 I love you all. I know what I say appears odd , but it is impossible 
 to describe the sort of feeling 1 have. 
 
 " I should like to give you an account of my voyage, but it would 
 be too long : it has done me a great deal of good. I have seen hu- 
 man nature under almost all its forms. Every where it is the same, 
 but the wilder it is the more virtuous. These , however, will be fine 
 arguments for us two, when we meet, to talk on. Give my love to 
 all , and do not forget dear M e de * *, who , upon cool considera- 
 tion, is as charming a creature as is in the world : in short, she 
 is sincere , which is a quality rather rare. 
 
 " The man that sends you this has a brother here, who has 
 been all goodness to me : he has begged me lo mention his name 
 to you : if ever you can be civil to him , do be so (though I think it 
 will never come in your way). His name is Second fils, negotiant 
 a Marseille. I dare say he will write you a letter with this. 
 
 " Good bye, dearest, dearest Bob. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "'E. F. 
 
 " I really am afraid to write to mother, I have so much lo say. 1 ' 
 
 On his arrival in London he was , by the merest accident , spared 
 the pain of a scene which could not fail to have been distressing to 
 others as well as himself. Impatient , as may be supposed, to see his 
 mother, who was then residing in London , he hastened instantly to 
 her house , and arrived there just as a large party, among whom 
 were the young bride of the preceding April and her lord , had 
 sealed themselves to dinner. In a second or two, the unexpected 
 visiter would have been among them , had not General Fox , who 
 was one of the guests , and recognised Lord Edward's voice , has- 
 tened out to stop him , and thus prevented an encounter which 
 would have been embarrassing to all parties. 
 
 In taking leave of this interesting passage of his lordship's short 
 life , it is not without some pain that the reflection suggests itself, 
 how different might have been his doom, both in life and death, had 
 this suit, in which he so sanguinely persevered, been successful-, 
 nor can I help adding , that the exemplary domestic virtues , \shich 
 have , through life , distinguished the noble lady he thus loved , 
 while they exalt our opinion of the man who could , thus early , ap-
 
 To MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 predate such excellence , but deepen tenfold our sympathy with the 
 pain he must have felt in losing her. 
 
 In active professional employment would now have been his only 
 safeguard , both against vain regrets for the past, and too sanguine 
 aspirations after Ihe future ; and there was a prospect , immediately 
 on his return to England, of employment, such as he himself could 
 have most wished , being found for him. The threatening arma- 
 ments of Spain at this moment called for corresponding efforts on 
 the part of Great Britain ; and , among other measures of offence , 
 an expedition against Cadiz was contemplated. One of Lord Edward's 
 first visits, on his arrival, was to his uncle, the Duke of Richmond, 
 and the information which it had been in his power to collect, res- 
 pecting the state of the Spanish colonies in America, was, of course, 
 listened to by the minister with peculiar interest. Finding, also, 
 that his nephew , during the journey he took through Spain , in 
 1788, had turned his time to account, and, besides those general 
 military observations which his " technical eye " as a soldier enabled 
 him to make, had taken an opportunity, while at Cadiz, of draw- 
 ing plans of the fortifications of that city, his grace invited him to 
 meet Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas that evening ; and these ministers , 
 having themselves questioned the young officer on the same subjects-, 
 offered immediately, as 1 have been informed , to promote him by 
 brevet , and give him the command of the expedition intended 
 against Cadiz. This Lord Edward readily accepted-, and the duke, 
 at parting , told him that he should ., on the following day, report 
 what had been agreed upon to the king , and hoped he might also 
 add, that his nephew was no longer in opposition. Free , as he then 
 supposed himself, from the responsibility which a seat in parliament 
 imposed , Lord Edward answered that it was his determination for 
 the future to devote himself exclusively to his profession , and he 
 could therefore, without any difficulty, promise not to appear in op- 
 position to the government. 
 
 On seeing his mother, however, the following day, his lordship 
 was , for the first time , informed that . notwithstanding her grace's 
 earnest remonstrances, his brother, the Duke of Leinster, had, 
 before his arrival , returned him for the county of Kildare. Finding 
 his position thus altered , he lost no time in apprising the Duke of 
 Richmond, who, on learning the new views of the subject which this 
 discovery had occasioned , expressed strong displeasure against his 
 nephew, and accused him of breaking his word w ith the king ^ adding, 
 at the same time, that neither this proffered appointment , nor any 
 other favour from ministers was to be expected by him , if he did 
 not detach himself from the opposition and give his vole to govern- 
 ment. This Lord Edward , it is hardly necessary to say, prornptk
 
 ^Sy. OF LORD EDWARD MTZGERALD. 71 
 
 refused, and the two relatives parted, with a degree of anger on 
 (he part of the uncle , which is suspected, but , I should think, un- 
 justly, to have had some share in the harsh measure taken subse- 
 quently, of dismissing Lord Edward, without even the forms of in- 
 quiry, from the army. 
 
 Thus disappointed of an employment which would have been so 
 gratifying at once to his ambition and his tastes . he had now no 
 other resources for the diversion of his thoughts than such as his 
 parliamentary duties in Ireland, and the society of a few favourite 
 friends in London, afforded him. This want of any absorbing pur- 
 suits or interests of his own left him free to extend his sympathies to 
 the concerns of others ; and , being neither pledged to a certain set 
 of opinions fay virtue of any office , nor under that fear of change 
 which high station and wealth engender, he could now give way 
 without reserve to his judgment and feelings , and lake part with 
 the oppressed and against the oppressor to the full length that his 
 own natural sense of justice and benevolence dictated. 
 
 Left thus open to the influence of all that was passing around him, 
 it may be conceived that the great events now in progress in France 
 could have appealed to few hearts more thoroughly prepared , both 
 by nature and position , to go along with their movement. In the 
 society, loo, which he now chiefly cultiv?Jed, that of Mr. Fox , 
 Mr. Sheridan, and their many distinguished friends. he found 
 those political principles , to which he now , for the first time, gave 
 any serious attention , recommended at once to his reason and ima- 
 gination by all the splendid sanctions with which genius . wit , elo- 
 quence, and the most refined good-fellowship couhl invest them. 
 Neither was it to be expected, while thus imbibing the full spirit of 
 the new doctrines, thai he would attend much to those constitutional 
 guards and conditions with which the Whig patriots, at that time, 
 fenced round even their boldest opinions, partly from a long- 
 transmitted reverence for the forms of the constitution , and partly, 
 also, from a prospective view to their own attainment of power, 
 and to the great inconvenience of being encumbered, on entering 
 into office , by opinions which il might not only be their interest , 
 but their duly, to retract. 
 
 From both these wholesome restraints on political ardour, Lord 
 Edward was free ; having derived, it may be supposed, from his 
 Irish education in politics . but a small portion of respect for the 
 English constitution . and being by nature too little selfish , even had 
 he any ulterior interests , to lot a thought of them stand in the way 
 of the present generous impulse. At a later period, indeed, it is well 
 known that even Mr. Fox himself, impatient at the hopelessness of 
 all his efforts to rid England. b*y any ordinary means, of a despotism
 
 12 MEMOIRS 1789. 
 
 which aristocratic alarm had brought upon her, found himself 
 driven , in his despair of Reform , so near that edge where Revolu- 
 tion begins, that had there existed, at that time, in England any 
 thing like the same prevalent sympathy with the new doctrines of 
 democracy as responded throughout Ireland, there is no saying 
 how far short of the daring aims of Lord Edward even this great 
 constitutional Whig leader might , in the warmth of his generous 
 zeal, have ventured. 
 
 These remarks , however, as regards both Mr. Fox and Lord 
 Edward , apply to a later period , by some years, than that at which 
 we are now arrived , the French Revolution not having yet fully 
 developed either its might or its mischief, nor diffused that feverish 
 excitement among the middle and lower classes of the community 
 which rendered them objects of alarm and , at last , coercion with 
 the higher. It was not, indeed, till Lord Edward's visits to France 
 in 1792, that he appears to have espoused zealously and decidedly 
 those republican principles upon which, during the short remainder 
 of his life , he acted with but a too fearless consistency. The interval 
 previous to that time he passed chiefly under the same roof with his 
 mother and sisters ; and it is for this reason that there remain to us 
 but few letters through which, for these two years , we are able to 
 track the details of his life. 
 
 At the beginning of 1791 we find him attending the House of 
 Commons in Dublin , but most heartily weary of the society he was 
 living with, and wishing himself in London, whither all his desires 
 now called him, not only from the delight he always felt in the 
 converse of his own family, but from certain other less .legitimate 
 attractions on which it is not necessary to dwell , but to which his 
 extreme readiness to love , and his power of making himself beloved 
 in return , rendered him constantly liable. Seldom , indeed , has any 
 one possessed , to such an engaging degree , that combination of 
 manly ardour with gentleness which is so winning to most female 
 minds. 
 
 " Dublin ," he says , in one of his letters at this time , u has been 
 very lively this last week , and promises as much for the next ; but 
 I think it is all the same thing. La D * *, La S * *, and a few 
 young competitors for their places. I have been a great deal with 
 these two. They want to console me for London ; but it won't do , 
 though I own they are very pleasant. Henry and I have been living 
 at Leinsler House quite alone. We generally ride to Black Rock. I 
 hale going by the gate. I won't say any thing of it for fear of templ- 
 ing you , but the passage is in high beauty. I meant to have gone 
 and slept there to-night , but was kept too late at the levee, so must 
 put it off to another lime. I have dined by myself, and intended
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 73 
 
 giving up the evening to writing to you, but have had such a press- 
 ing invitation from Mrs.** to sup that I cannot refuse. I hope it is 
 to make up a quarrel which she began the other night, because I 
 said I thought she was cold. I find it is the worst thing one can say 
 of a Dublin woman : you cannot conceive what an affront it is 
 reckoned." 
 
 At the latter end of 1792, that momentous crisis , when France , 
 standing forth on the ruins of her monarchy, proclaimed herself a 
 Republic , and hurled tierce defiance against the thrones of the 
 world , Lord Edward, unwilling to lose such a spectacle of moral 
 and political excitement, hastened over to Paris, without com- 
 municating his intentions even to the Duchess, who had, but a short 
 lime previously, received from him the following letter : 
 
 " London, October, 1792. 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I know you will be glad to make out through mistakes, words 
 left out, false spelling, bad English, etc. that I am almost quite 
 well. I have been in town since Saturday. I return to Boyle Farm 
 again to-morrow. I spent a delightful week. Dear Harry, as usual, 
 charming ; he is perfect. I dined with Charles Fox, Saturday, on 
 coming to town ; he was quite right about all the good French 
 news. Is it not delightful? it is really shameful to see how much it 
 has affected all our aristocrats. I think one may fairly say the Duke 
 of Brunswick and his Germans are bedeviled. The joke, in the 
 Argus, of the invincible cavalry of Prussia being totally eat up by 
 their infantry, is not a bad one. 
 
 "I begin to feel a little for the emigrants, though I am sure they 
 deserve none ; but they have so completely ruined their cause that 
 I believe they will lose every thing. Some , I am sure, thought 
 (li<'\ were acting right and honowablj ; and these, though one is 
 surprised and angry at their errors, one cannot help pitying. How 
 glad I am** has remained in France ! Poor Antoine , I cannot say 
 how I feel for him, for he certainly thought he was doing right. " 
 
 From the letter that soon after followed, it will be seen that had 
 his lordship been a more backward pupil in the new doctrines of 
 democracy than , unluckily for himself, he proved to be , it would 
 not have been for want of an able and daring preceptor. 
 
 " Paris, Tuesday, October 5otli. 
 " ist Year of the Republic, 1792. 
 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "1 know you will be surprised to hear from me here, do not 
 ho uneasy. This town is as quiet as possible, and for me a most
 
 74 MEMOIRS 1792. 
 
 interesting scene. I would not have missed seeing it at this period 
 for any thing. I stopped a day at Boulogne with the dear **, and 
 you may guess how glad I was to see her. I told her not to tell you 
 I was here, as I did not intend to let you know it; but, upon 
 consideration , I think it better you should. I arrived last Friday. 
 
 "I lodge with my friend Paine, we breakfast, dine, and sup 
 together. The more I see of his interior, the more I like and res- 
 pect him. I cannot express how kind he is to me; there is a sim- 
 plicity of manner, a goodness of heart, and a strength of mind in 
 him , that I never knew a man before possess. I pass my time very 
 pleasantly, read , walk , and go quietly to the play. I have not been 
 to see any one , nor shall not. I often want you , dearest mother, 
 but I should not have been able to bear Tunbridge for any time. 
 The present scene occupies my thoughts a great deal, and dissipates 
 unpleasant feelings very much. 
 
 " Give my love to Ogilvie and the girls. I think he would be 
 much entertained and interested if he was here. I can compare it 
 to nothing but Rome in its days of conquest : the energy of the 
 people is beyond belief. There is no news that the Morning Chro- 
 nicle does not tell you, so I won't repeat. I go a great deal to the 
 Assembly ; they improve much in speaking. 
 
 "God bless you , dearest mother. Believe me 
 
 " Your affectionate , etc. 
 
 " Let me know if I can do any thing for you here. Direct 
 
 Le citoyen Edouard Fitzgerald , 
 
 Hotel de White , Passage des Petits-Peres , pres du 
 Palais-Royal." 
 
 From a disposition so ardent and fearless , discretion was the last 
 virtue to be expected , and his friends , therefore , whatever alarm 
 or regret it might cause them , could hardly have felt much surprise 
 when the announcement that follows made its appearance in the 
 papers of Paris and London : 
 
 il Paris, Nov. it)th. 
 
 "Yesterday the English arrived in Paris assembled at White's 
 Hotel , to celebrate the triumph of victories gained over their late 
 invaders by the armies of France. Though the festival was intended 
 to be purely British , the meeting was attended by citizens of various 
 countries, by deputies of the Convention, by generals, and other 
 officers of the armies then stationed or visiting Paris , J. H. Stone 
 in the chair. 
 
 "Among the toasts were, ; The armies of France : may the
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 75 
 
 example of its citizen soldiers be followed by all enslaved countries . 
 till tyrants and tyranny be extinct.' 
 
 ' ; An address proposed to the National Convention. Among 
 several toasts proposed by the citizens, Sir R. Smith and Lord 
 E. Fitzgerald , was the following : ' May the patriotic airs of the 
 German Legion (Caira, the Carmagnole, Marseillaise March, 'etc.) 
 soon become the favourite music of every army, and may the sol- 
 dier and the citizen join in the chorus.' 
 
 "General Dillon proposed 'The people of Ireland-, and may 
 government profit by the example of France , and Reform prevent 
 Revolution.' 
 
 " Sir Robert Smith and Lord E. Fitzgerald renounced their titles; 
 and a toast proposed by the former was drank : ' The speedy abo- 
 lition of all hereditary titles and feudal distinctions.' v 
 
 " Paris, 1792. 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 U I got your dear letter yesterday. You were quite right about 
 my joy at the taking of Mons, and the success of the battle of Je- 
 mappe. I was in the house when the news came, and saw Raplistc 
 received : it was an animating scene , as indeed every thing thai 
 passes here now is. You who know the French may conceive it. 1 
 am delighted with the manner they feel their success : no foolish 
 boasting or arrogance at it ; but imputing all to the greatness and 
 goodness of their cause , and seeming to rejoice more on account of 
 its effects on Europe in general than for their own individual glory. 
 This, indeed, is the turn every idea here seems to take : all their 
 pamphlets , all their pieces , all their songs , extol their achieve- 
 ments but as the effect of the principle they are contending for, and 
 rejoice at their success as the triumph of humanity. All the defeats 
 of their enemies they impute to their disgust at the cause for which 
 they light. In Ihe coffee-houses and play-houses, every man calls 
 the other camarade , frere, ifcnd with a stranger immediately 
 begins , ' Ah ! nous sommes tous freres , tous homines , nos victoires 
 sonl pour vous , pour lout le monde \ ' and the same sentiments are 
 always received with peals of applause. In short, all the good en- 
 thusiastic French sentiments seem to come out ; while, to all appear- 
 ance . one would say, they had lost all their bad. The town is quiet, 
 and to judge from the theatres and public walks, very full. The 
 great difference seems in the few carriages , and the dress , which 
 is very plain. 
 
 I am iilad Ogilvie warms up a little. I knew he would. 1 
 iin sure you enjoy the success. Tor you and I alwajs had a proper
 
 MKMO1US 1792. 
 
 liking for the true French character. Dear ** is here. I see a great 
 deal of her; she is as pleasant as ever; that same good heart and 
 delightful manner. How she doles on you ! but what I admire is the 
 manner she bears the change of circumstances , with a good sense 
 and philosophy beyond description , even as you yourself would do. 
 From her 3000/. she has got 1000/. a year, and not quite that. She 
 goes in her hackney-coach , or walks to her friends and her soirees , 
 crottee jusqitau con , with the same cheerfulness as ever; and is 
 just the same, with her one servant and maid, and little dinner of 
 soup and bouilli , as when M e la Marquise , with two grands la- 
 fjuais. Indeed , if it were not for her children , I rather think she 
 likes it belter. You would admire her were you to see her, and 
 would understand all her feelings. 
 
 "Tell Ogilvie I shall leave this next week, and settle my majo- 
 rity, if I am not scratched out of the army. General Egalite is the 
 son of Orleans. I dine to-day w ilh Madame Sillery. God bless you , 
 dearest mother. I am obliged to leave you. Love to the girls. 
 
 "I long to see you, and shall be with you the beginning of the 
 week after next. I cannot be long from you. 
 
 "Yours, 
 
 "E. F. 
 
 "In the midst of my patriotism and projects, you are always the 
 first thing in my heart, and ever must be, my dear, dear mother. 11 
 
 The simple sentence in this letter, " I dine to-day with Madame 
 de Sillery," is far more pregnant with events and feelings interesting 
 to the writer, than from the short and careless manner in which it is 
 here introduced could be suspected. Madame de Sillery (the cele- 
 brated Corntesse de Genlis) had, but a day or two before the date 
 of this letter, relumed from England , where , accompanied by her 
 pupil Mademoiselle d'Orleans , and her adopted daughter Pamela , 
 she had been , for the last twelve or thirteen months , living in re- 
 tirement. The only interruption to this privacy was during the few 
 v* ivks passed by her under the roHf of Mr. Sheridan , at Isleworlh . 
 during which time Lord Edward was , more than once , afforded an 
 opportunity of meeting her, but from a horror of learned ladies , 
 not peculiar, as it would appear by this instance, to poets , always 
 declined that honour. Though his imagination , therefore , had been 
 sufficiently prepared by the descriptions which he had heard of the 
 young Pamela, to find much in her that would excite both his in- 
 terest and admiration , he had never, till the time of his present visit 
 to Paris , seen her. 
 
 1 1 could hardly have been more than an evening or two before the 
 date of the above letter, that , being at one of the theatres of Paris.
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. ?? 
 
 lie saw, through a loge grilles near him , a face with which he was 
 exceedingly struck . as well from its own peculiar beauty, as from 
 tlir strong likeness Ihe features bore to those of a lady, then some 
 months dead, for whom he was known to have entertained a very 
 affectionate regard. On inquiring who the young person was that had 
 thus riveted his attention , he found it was no other than the very 
 Pamela , of whose beauty he had heard so much the adopted , or 
 (as may now be said , without scruple) actual daughter of Madame 
 dc Genlis by the Duke of Orleans. Instantly, all his prepossessions 
 against the learned mother vanished-, an acquaintance, from that 
 very night, I believe, commenced between them, and he was sel- 
 dom after seen absent from the fair Pamela's side. 
 
 In some natures, love is a fruit that ripens quickly; and that such 
 was its growth in Lord Edward's warm heart the whole history of 
 his life fully testifies. In the present instance , where there was so 
 much to interest and attract on both sides, a liking fell by either 
 could not fail to become reciprocal. The perfect disinterestedness, 
 too, of the young soldier threw, at once, Out of consideration a dif- 
 ficulty that might have checked more worldly suitors ; and, in some- 
 what less than a month after their meeting at Paris , Mademoiselle 
 Sims ( the name by which Madame de Genlis had chosen to designate 
 her daughter) became Lady Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 The marriage took place at Tournay, Madame de Genlis having 
 consented so far to resume the charge of her illustrious pupil , Ma- 
 demoiselle d'Orleans , as to place her in safety beyond the borders 
 of France ', and the following is the lady's own account of the 
 event : 
 
 " Nous arriv\mes a Tournay dans les premiers jours deDecembre 
 de cette m6me annee , 1792. Trois semaines apres, j'euslebonheur 
 de marier ma fille d'adoplion , Tangelique Pamela , a Lord Edouard 
 Fitzgerald. Au milieu de tant d'inforiunes et d'injustices , le ciel 
 voulut recompenser par cet heureux evenement la meilleure action 
 dc ma vie , celle d'avoir protege Tinnocence sans appui , d'avoir 
 elcv6 , adopts I'enfant incomparable que la Providence jetait dans 
 mes bras 5 enfin, d'avoir developpe son esprit, sa raison, et les 
 vert us qui la rendent aujourd'hui le modele des epouses et des 
 meres de son Age ." 
 
 M. de Chartres, the present King of France, was one of Ihe wit- 
 nesses of the ceremony ; and as the marriage contract contains names 
 which are, in their several ways , sure to live in history, the reader 
 may not be displeased to see an extract or two from it here : 
 
 1 Almost ira media tdj after, Belgium was incorporated with France. 
 * Precis de la conduite de Madame de Genlis depuis la Revolution.
 
 78 MEMOIRS 
 
 "A tous ceux, etc. , etc., sc.avoir faisons que pardevant maftre 
 Ferdinand Joseph Dorez , notaire republicain de la residence de 
 Tournay en Flandre, en presence des ciloiens Louis Philippe 
 Egalite et Silveslre Mirys , de presents audit Tournay, et temoins 
 requis, sont comparus Edouard Fitzgerald, age de vingl-neuf ans 
 environ , demeurant ordinairement a Dublin , en Irlande , natif a 
 While Hall , a Londres , fils de James Fitzgerald , Due de Leinster, 
 et de Dame Amelie Lennox, Duchesse de Leinster, d'une part. 
 
 " Citoienne Anne Caroline Stephanie Sims , &gee de dix-neuf ans 
 environ , demeurant a Paris , connue en France sous le nom de 
 Pamela , native de Fogo dans 1'Isle de Terre-Neuve ; fille de Guil- 
 laume de Brixey et de Mary Sims , assistees de la citoienne Stepha- 
 nie Felicite Ducrest Brularl Sillery, connue en dix-sept cent quatre- 
 vingt-six sous le nom de Comlesse de Genlis, autorisee par les deux 
 depositions passees pardevant honorable Guillaume, Comte de 
 Mansfield, pair du royaume, et grand justicier d'Angleterre. 
 toutes deux en dale du vingl-cinq Janvier dix-sept cent quatre- 
 vingt-six, d'autre part." 
 
 One of the stipulations is as follows : 
 
 "Stipule qu'en cas de separation les biens, meubles et immeu- 
 bles, acquis et patrimoniaux auxdits futurs epoux, qu'ils possede- 
 ront lors de cette separation , seront partages entre eux par moitie ; 
 a 1'exception neanmoins d'une rente viagere de six mille livres de 
 France annuellement, appartenant a la future epouse, qui n'en- 
 trera point dans le partage; mais au contraire appartiendra en 
 totalite a ladite future epouse , ainsi qu'une autre rente viagere 
 
 de douze cents livres. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 "Etoient signes a la minute originale des presentes lettres. 
 Edouard Fitzgerald , Pamela Sims , le Lieutenant-General Jacques 
 Omoran , Stephanie Felicite Ducrest Sillery Brulart , Adele Eugene 
 Egalite , Hermine Compton , Philippe Egalite , Pulcherie Valence , 
 Henrietle Screey, Cesar Ducrest, L. Philippe Egalite, Silveslre 
 Mirys, et C. J. Dorez, notaire." 
 
 In the mean time , while the marriage was thus in progress , the 
 publicity given by the journals of both countries lo the details of the 
 English Festival, held lalely al Paris, had produced Ihe consequences 
 which Lord Edward himself had, in a great measure, anticipated. 
 Without any further inquiry, and, so far, no doubt, unjustly and 
 oppressively, his lordship, together with two or three other officers, 
 who had offended in the same manner, was dismissed from the army. 
 To this trealmenl of his noble relative , Mr. Fox (in speaking on a
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 7fl 
 
 motion ' of the Secretary of War for the employment of inva- 
 lids, etc.), thus took occasion to advert : 
 
 " While upon the subject of military, he deemed it a fit opportu- 
 nity to take notice of some occurrences which had taken place , but 
 which he could not know the particulars of but from report. He 
 alluded to certain dismissals which had been made in the army, as 
 those of Lord Semple , Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and also Captain 
 Gawler, That there might be good grounds for these dismissals was 
 possible , but they were unknown because they were undeclared ; 
 one only ground was suggested by the public voice , namely, their 
 having subscribed to the fund raised for the purpose of enabling 
 
 the French to carry on the war against their invaders 
 
 One of these officers , Lord Edward Fitzgerald , was his near rela- 
 tion , and of him he would say, from his personal knowledge , that 
 the service did not possess a more zealous , meritorious , or pro- 
 mising member; he had served his country in actual service, and 
 bled in its service." 
 
 On the 2d of January, 1793, Lord Edward, with his young 
 bride, arrived in London. He had written to ask his mother's con- 
 sent to the marriage ; but whether his impatience had allow ed him 
 to wait for her answer appears somewhat doubtful. It is , indeed , 
 most probable that the letter to which the following note alludes 
 was the first notification he received of her prompt , and , as ever, 
 indulgent sanction. 
 
 " Wednesday, ad January, 1795. 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 'Thank you a thousand limes for your letter; you never obliged 
 me so much , or made me so happy. I cannot tell you how strongly 
 my little wife feels it : she has sent your letter to M e Silleri , whom 
 I knew il would delight. She is to be pitied, for she dotes on Pa- 
 mela , who returns it most sincerely. What she feels is the only 
 drawback on my happiness. You must love her, she wants to be 
 loved. 
 
 "We shall dine with you the day after to-morrow. We shall not 
 be able to gel from the Custom-house time enough to see you to- 
 morrow. Love to all. Tell Ogilvie how much I am obliged to him. 
 Yours, dearest mother, 
 
 "E. F." 
 
 
 
 After remaining ahout Hirer weeks \\ilh the Wchess ofLeinster, 
 
 ' December 21st, IT'.)-.'
 
 RO MEMOIRS 1793. 
 
 the new-married couple proceeded to Dublin , where the Session of 
 Parliament had commenced on the loth of January ; and, in an Irish 
 newspaper, dated the 26th of this month , I find their arrival thus 
 announced : "Yesterday morning, arrived the Princess Royal, 
 Captain Browne , from Parkgatc, with the Right Hon. Lord Edward 
 Fit/.ircrald, his lady and suite, and several other persons of 
 quality." 
 
 In order to convey to my readers any clear idea of the sort of 
 political atmosphere into which Lord Edward, himself more than 
 sufficiently excited, now plunged at once on his return to Dublin, 
 il will be necessary to recall briefly to their recollection the history 
 of Irish affairs for the last fourteen or fifteen years preceding : 
 and a few dates and facts , requiring but little comment , will bring 
 more yividly, and, as it were, bodily, before their eyes the state of 
 Ireland at this moment , than any description that eloquence , 
 however forcible, could give of it. 
 
 In the year 1776, the people of Ireland first learned the dan- 
 gerous lesson , that to the fears , rather than the justice , of their 
 rulers, they must thenceforward look for either right or favour. In 
 the summer of that year, America proclaimed her independence , 
 and in the course of the autumn the first link was struck from the 
 chain of the Catholic -, the law then allow ing him to acquire an 
 interest in the soil, which he had hitherto trod but by sufferance , 
 as a serf. Small as was the seed of liberty thus sown , all that Ire- 
 land has since gained may be considered as its fruits. In a year or 
 two after, the cause of American independence was espoused openly 
 by the courts of France and Spain. The resources of England were 
 reduced to the lowest ebb , and the fleets of the enemy menaced the 
 British shores. In this predicament , the town of Belfast , which had 
 been invaded by the French eighteen years before, applied to 
 government for protection , and received the memorable answer, 
 " We have not the means; you must defend yourselves." Never 
 was an avowal of feebleness , on the part of a government, res- 
 ponded to by a more noble or generous manifestation of strength 
 on the part of the people. Instantly an immense army of volunteers 
 sprung up, as if by enchantment, through the country. The sym- 
 pathies of all , even of the outcast Catholic , rallied round the 
 patriotic standard ; and could Ireland then have claimed the services 
 of her sons, she would have exhibited to the eyes of the world, at this 
 magnificent moment , that only true fortress of freedom , an armed 
 people. As it was^n less than a year from their first formation, the 
 volunteer force daunted to 80,000 men : tile hour of England's 
 weakness was found to be that of Ireland's strength , and in this 
 attitude, as formidable to her rulers as to the enemy, she demanded
 
 1793. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 81 
 
 and obtained from England a free trade and an independent legis- 
 lature. 
 
 Such a spirit , once evoked , was not easily to be laid. Having se- 
 cured the independence of their parliament , the next task of these 
 armed patriots was to effect its reform; and, accordingly, in the 
 year 1783 , a Convention of this body assembled in Dublin , holding 
 their deliberations on Reform , even during the sitting of parliament, 
 and assuming powers and functions co-ordinate with those of the 
 two acting branches of the legislature. How far this military inter- 
 vention might have ventured to proceed , had it not been guided by 
 a leader so temperate , and , at the same time , so popular as Lord 
 Charlemont , it is impossible to say ; but that a collision was on the 
 point of taking place between these armed deliberalors and the le- 
 gislative council of the nation , must be evident to every reader of 
 the history of that crisis. It is , indeed , now well known , that there 
 was , at that moment, in full equipment, at Belfast , a train of artil- 
 lery, with a considerable supply of ammunition , and a large corps 
 of volunteers , ready to march to the aid of the Convention , if ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 Formidable , however , as this body appeared in numbers and 
 spirit , it was yet but a very small portion of the Irish nation, and 
 had even precluded itself from the sympathies it might have com- 
 manded from the great bulk of the people , by rejecting , more than 
 once , a proposition laid before it for the extension of the elective 
 franchise to Catholics. Against such an assembly, therefore , so little 
 backed by the collective sense of the nation , it is not wonderful that 
 the governing parly should feel itself sufficiently strong to assume, 
 at once, a high tone of determination and resistance. A motion for 
 Reform , upon a plan previously agreed on in the Convention , hav- 
 ing been brought before the House of Commons by Mr. Flood, 
 himself dressed in the volunteer uniform , and surrounded by other 
 members , some of them Delegates , in the same military array, 
 after a long and stormy debate , maintained, on both sides , with a 
 spirit of defiance which an eye-witness of the scene describes as 
 " almost terrific ," the rejection of the measure was carried by a 
 majority of 159 to 77, and a lesson of national union thus incul- 
 cated upon Irishmen, of which , through the eventful years that fol- 
 lowed , they were not slow in profiting. 
 
 Already, indeed, had there appeared symptoms of friendly ap- 
 proximation among those sects into whUh the people of Ireland are 
 even more politically than religiously divided, and from whose 
 disunion all the misery of their common country springs. Among the 
 Protestant voices of the senate , some already had pleaded eloquently 
 
 6
 
 82 MEMOIRS 179^. 
 
 for the Catholic. A bishop of the established church l , one hardly, 
 however , to be cited as a churchman had said , in addressing the 
 volunteers on this now novel subject, "Tyranny is not govern- 
 ment , and allegiance is due only to protection." The Presbyterians, 
 too, of the north, the last, it might be supposed, this new light 
 could reach, were, on the contrary, the first and promptest to sa- 
 crifice all sectarian prejudices on the wide national altar of union 
 and freedom. The volunteers of Belfast had given instructions to 
 their delegates in the Convention to support , as one of the essential 
 ingredients of Reform , the free admission of Catholics to all the 
 rights of freemen ^ and, among the circumstances indicative of the 
 growing temper of the times, it could not fail to be observed, that 
 the able Catholic divine, O'Leary, on entering the doors of the mi- 
 litary Congress , was received with a full salute of rested arms by 
 the volunteers. 
 
 Hitherto, however , this new feeling of liberality had been con- 
 fined, comparatively, but to a few, and even in them, notwithstand- 
 ing the increased heat of the political temperature of the times, was, 
 as yet , but imperfectly ripened. If civil and religious liberty are , 
 as they have been sometimes described, twins, it is lamentable to 
 observe how much more lardy and stunted is , in most cases , the 
 growth of the latter than of the former. It was not till convinced of 
 their own weakness by the failure of this great effort for Reform , 
 that the attention of the Whigs and other more daring speculators 
 in politics was turned seriously and sincerely to those disqualifying 
 statutes which had robbed their cause of the great momentum of the 
 general mind , and left them a powerless colony in the midst of a 
 disfranchised nation. From this moment, Catholic Freedom went 
 hand in hand, in all their projects, with Reform-, and the same 
 Dissenters who had formed the flower of the civic army in 1782, were 
 now the foremost to seek in a cordial reconcilement of all sects a 
 more extended and national basis for their patriotism. 
 
 This growing coalition between the Catholics and the Dissenters , 
 to which the one party brought intelligence and republican spirit , 
 and the other deep-rooted discontent and numerical force , had for 
 its chief cement a feeling , common to both , of impatience under 
 the exactions of the established church ; and a demonstration, among 
 many others of their joint aims against this vulnerable point , oc- 
 curred in the year 1787, when the celebrated Father O'Leary , 
 already mentioned , found hjmsclf seconded by Dr. Campbell , and 
 other presbylerian ministers, in his well-known and amusing con- 
 troversy with the Bishop of Cloyne. 
 
 1 The Bishop of Derry.
 
 I7Q3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 83 
 
 Still, however, their mutual tie was but slight and distant ; nor was 
 it till the astounding burst of the French revolution had scattered 
 hopes and fears of change through all nations, that their alliance 
 began to assume any very decisive or formidable consistency. In 
 the mean time , the government, with that infatuation which attends 
 all governments so situated , had , in proportion as the people took 
 bolder views of the responsibility of the trust committed to their 
 rulers , gone on abusing that trust by such a system of corruption 
 as, for its waste and shamelessness , defies all parallel. As far as 
 openness , indeed , may be thought to take away from the danger or 
 ignominy of such traffic , neither in the buyer or the bought was 
 there any want of this quality in the Irish market; and the well-known 
 threat, or rather lure, held out by Lord Clare 1 to a refractory op- 
 position, is worth volumes in pourtraying the spirit both of his own 
 times and those that preceded them. " Haifa million ," he said, " or 
 more had been expended , some years before , to break an Opposi- 
 tion ; and the same , or a greater sum , might be necessary now." 
 
 It was in speaking of that period, the portion of it, at least, 
 between 1784 and 1790, that Mr. Grattan made use of the fol- 
 lowing strong language : " You have no adequate responsibility in 
 Ireland , and politicians laugh at the sword of justice , which falls 
 
 short of their heads , and only precipitates on their reputation 
 
 and yet in this country we have had victims ; the aristocracy 
 
 has , at different times , been a victim ; the whole people of Ireland, 
 for almost an entire century, were a victim,- but ministers, in all 
 their criminal succession , here is a chasm , a blank in your 
 history. Sir, you have in Ireland no axe, therefore no good 
 minister." 
 
 The part taken by the Irish parliament on the question of the 
 Regency, in 1789, had consequences, both immediate and remote, 
 of the most signal importance to Ireland. One of the first effects of 
 the new division of parties which then took place was to throw an 
 immense accession of strength into the ranks of the Opposition,- and 
 this reinforcement of the popular cause accruing just at the moment 
 when the example of the French Revolution was beginning to agitate 
 all minds , formed such a concurrence of exciting causes , at the 
 beginning of the year 1790, as diffused the ruffle of an approaching 
 storm over the whole face of society. Words, spoken in high places, 
 fall with even more than their due weight on the public ear ; and 
 the language of the parliamentary orators at this period lost none 
 of its impression from the millions of echoes that , out of doors , 
 repeated it. 
 
 ' When Attorney-General.
 
 84 MEMOIRS i 79 3 
 
 " Do you imagine, "said Mr. Grallan," that the laws of (his country 
 can retain due authority under a system such as yours ; a system 
 which not only poisons the source of the law, but pollutes the seals 
 of judgment?... The present administration is an enemy to the law : 
 first, because it has broken the law, secondly, because it has 
 attempted to poison the true sources both of legislation and justice ; 
 and, however the friends of that administration may talk plausibly 
 on the subject of public tranquillity, they are, in fact, the ring- 
 leaders of sedition placed in authority. Rank majorities may give 
 a nation law, but rank majorities cannot give law authority." In 
 the course of the same session (1790) Mr. O'Neill, while animad- 
 verting upon the corrupt influence of government , thus predicted 
 but too truly the catastrophe to which they were hurrying : "I 
 do say, and I say it prophetically, that the people will resist. The 
 members of this house bear but a small proportion to the people at 
 large. There are gentlemen outside these doors , of as good edu- 
 cation and of as much judgment of the relative duties of represen- 
 tation as any man within doors ; and matters are evidently ripening 
 and will come to a crisis." 
 
 The immense efficacy of clubs and societies , as instruments of 
 political agitation , had been evinced by the use which the workers 
 of the French Revolution had made of them ; and it is a striking 
 proof of the little foresight with which the steps even of the most 
 cautious are sometimes taken , that to no less moderate a Whig than 
 Lord Charlemont did Ireland owe , at this crisis , the first example 
 of that sort of combination for political purposes which became 
 afterwards such a lever in the hands of her millions. At the latter 
 end of 1789 this excellent nobleman had, with the aid of Mr. Grattan, 
 founded a Whig Club in Dublin, and, shortly after, a similar 
 society was , through his lordship's means , instituted at Belfast. To 
 cultivate the old Revolution principles, as distinguished from the de- 
 mocratic theories of the day , was the professed object of these clubs ; 
 but it was soon seen that the new revolutionary school had , in the 
 minds of most of the northern zealots of freedom , superseded the 
 venerable doctrines of 1688. The example set by Lord Charlemont 
 was , in all but its moderation , imitated ; other clubs , keeping 
 pace more boldly with the advancing spirit of the times, succeeded ; 
 and , at length, in the ensuing year, 1791, was formed that deep 
 and comprehensive " Plot of Patriots" (as they themselves described 
 it) , the Society of United Irishmen ; professing , as the aim and 
 principle of their Union , "the greatest happiness of the greatest 
 number," and calling upon all sects and denominations of Irishmen 
 to join them in the one great, common cause of political, religious, 
 and national enfranchisement.
 
 i 79 3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 85 
 
 " Among the new features which distinguished this club from its 
 predecessors, the prominence now for the first time given to the w rongs 
 of the Catholics , as one of those evils of which the whole nation should 
 call loudly for the redress , was by far the most important. Too long 
 had the old Whig feeling of hatred to Popery succeeded in blinding 
 many of the Protestant advocates of freedom to the true interest of 
 that cause which they but as colonists, not as Irishmen , pleaded. . 
 Agreeing to " call it freedom if themselves were free," they took 
 no account of the great mass of living materials, out of which 
 alone the pile of national liberty can be constructed. The Volunteer 
 Convention of 1783, in all their pride of patriotism, were yet 
 unwilling , as we have seen , to connect the question of Catholic 
 freedom with Reform ; and , most absurdly, while demanding a 
 wide extension of the right of suffrage , were for leaving the 
 numbers of those who could exercise it as limited as ever. The 
 \Miiii Club loo, though , as individuals, some of their body were 
 warm advocates of the Catholics, yet, as a society, so far threw 
 damp upon the question as to exclude it from among their subjects 
 of discussion. 
 
 B> this impolitic backwardness in their cause , the great bulk of 
 the people were , by degrees , alienated from all confidence in the 
 legitimate guardians of their rights , were left to listen to the call 
 of other and bolder leaders , and to look to that ominous light now 
 kindled in the north as their sole and sure beacon of invitation and 
 hope. To those whose object it was to rally all the nation's energies , 
 round a flag of a far deeper green than the pale standard of 
 Whiggism , this distrust of their parliamentary friends by the peo- 
 ple was by no means unwelcome; nor, as far as courtesy to the 
 individuals in question would permit, did they fail to encourage it. 
 il Trust," said they, in one of their Addresses ', " as little to your 
 friends as to your enemies, in a mailer where you can acl only by 
 yourselves. The will of the nalion must be declared before any 
 Reform can take place 1 ." 
 
 Anticipating , too (as they well might under any government less 
 infatuated) the probability of their being, before long, deprived of 
 their hold upon the Catholics by a seasonable and liberal concession of 
 
 1 Address of the Society of United Irishmeu of Dublin to the Irish Nation. 
 
 3 la this sentence they stein to refer to Paine's notions on the subject of 
 K florin : " A government on the principles npon which constitutional govern- 
 ment, arising out of society, are established, canuot have the right ot altering 
 
 itself. The bill which Mr. Pitt bronght iuto Parliament some yeais ago, to 
 
 reform Parliament , was ou ibis erroneous principle. The right of Reform is in the 
 n.ition in its original chaiactci, and the constitutional method would be by a 
 General Convention elected for the purpose. ''
 
 86 MEMOIRS 1793. 
 
 their claims, they took care not to fall into the error which has been, 
 in our own times , committed , of representing this concession , 
 however important, as the " one thing needful," but thus, in 
 another of their Addresses , guarded themselves against any such 
 misconception or limitation of their views : " In the sincerity of 
 our souls do we desire Catholic Emancipation ; but, were it obtained 
 to-morrow, to-morrow should we go on as we do to-day, in the 
 pursuit of that Reform which would still be wanting to ratify their 
 liberties as well as our own." 
 
 With all this , however, it was still but by very slow degrees that 
 the better order of Catholics lent themselves to the exciting call of 
 their fellow-countrymen. Not , assuredly, from any tendency that 
 there is in their faith, more than in most others, to weaken or 
 counteract the spirit of liberty, an assumption which the events of 
 our own time must have sufficiently set to rest, but from the 
 timidity and want of self-confidence engendered by a long course 
 of slavery, and the hope still kept alive in their hearts of some boon 
 from the free grace of government , they were at first , naturally 
 fearful of putting to hazard whatever advantages their present po- 
 sition might possess , for the precarious and stormy chances of an 
 alliance which seemed to offer no medium between success and 
 ruin. 
 
 To this cautious line of policy the influence of some of their peers 
 and chief gentry, who had hitherto taken the leading part in their 
 deliberations, had been successful in restraining them : but the same 
 impatience under aristocratic rule which was now pervading all 
 Europe, could not but find its way at length into the councils of the 
 Catholics. So late as the year 1791, these hereditary conductors of 
 their cause had taken upon themselves , in the name of the whole 
 body , to present an Address to the Lord Lieutenant, condemnatory 
 of the spirit and tendency of the popular associations of the day, 
 and leaving , with implicit loyalty, to the discretion of government 
 the measure of justice it might think proper to accord to their 
 claims. 
 
 This offensive mixture , in their aristocratic leaders , of dictation 
 to the people and servility to the court , was at once felt to have 
 incapacitated them from being any longer the organs of a body 
 rising into the proud attitude of assertors of their own rights. The 
 proceedings of this small knot of lords and gentlemen were accord- 
 ingly protested against by those whom they pretended to represent; 
 and a separation having in consequence taken place between them 
 and the great mass of the Catholics , the conduct of the cause de- 
 volved from thenceforth into the hands of commercial men of in- 
 telligence and spirit , whose position in society gave them an insight
 
 i7y3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 87 
 
 inlo the growing demands of Ihe country, and placed their minds , 
 as it were , in contact \\ilh those popular influences and sympathies 
 from which the proud seclusion in which they lived had insulated 
 the former managers of their cause. 
 
 From this moment the political views of the Catholic Committee 
 and the United Irish Societies began manifestly to converge towards 
 the same formidable object a general and nationalized league 
 againt English power. Even the feud which had for some time raged 
 in the North between the lower classes of Roman Catholics and 
 Presbyterians, and which has bequeathed, in the transmitted spirit 
 of its Pcep-o"-day boys, the curse of Orangeism to Ireland, could 
 not prevent a great majority of the belter order of both sects from 
 drawing cordially towards a union, by which alone, they saw, their 
 common objects could be effected. The -appointment , indeed , of 
 Theobald Wolfe Tone , the founder of the first society of United 
 Irishmen, to be Secretary of the Catholic Committee, gave suffi- 
 cienlly intelligible warning that the lime was at hand when the 
 same spirit would be found to actuate both these bodies. 
 
 To the confluence of troubled waters which I have been here 
 describing, the example and progress of the French Revolution 
 \\cre ghing, every day, a more revolutionary colour and course. In 
 Ihe year 1790-1, the Irish Volunteers had transmitted an Address to 
 (In- National Assembly of France, and received from them a long 
 and fraternizing answer in return. On the 14th of July, 1792, the 
 town of Belfast, now foremost in Ihe race of democracy, had 
 celebrated by a grand Procession and Festival the anniversary of the 
 French Revolution ; and among the devices and inscriptions dis- 
 played on the occasion , one or two will sufficiently give a notion 
 of the republican spirit that pervaded the whole ceremony. On a 
 group of emblematic figures was inscribed, " Our Gallic brethren 
 \\ere born July 14, 1789 . alas! we are still in embryo." On the 
 reverse, " Superstitious jealousy, the cause of the Irish Bastille : 
 let us unite and destroy it." To this meeting the Catholic Committee 
 of Dublin sent down a deputation; and a dinner given to those 
 deputies, a day or two after the Festival, is thus described by Tone : 
 " Chequered, at the head of the table, sat Dissenter and Catholic. 
 The four flags , America , France , Poland , Ireland , but no Eng- 
 land.'' 
 
 It is not wonderful that, by such manifestations of public feeling, 
 even the government of that day, hardened as it was to all better 
 appeals , should , at length , find itself alarmed into some show <K 
 justice. The justice , however, that is wrung from fear, but adds 
 contempt to the former sense of wrong ; and the whole history of 
 the concessions doled out to the Catholics, in this and the ensuing
 
 88 MEMOIRS i 79 3. 
 
 year, but exhibits, in its fullest perfection, that perverse art, in 
 which Irish rulers have shown themselves such adepts , of throwing 
 a blight over favours by the motive and manner of conferring them, 
 an art , which unhappily has had the effect of rendering barren , 
 thankless , and unblest, some of the fairest boons bestowed by Eng- 
 land upon Ireland. At the beginning of this year (1792), a Bill, 
 brought forward avowedly under the sanction of government , gave 
 to the Irish Catholics the right of admission to the bar, and repealed 
 one or two of the most odious of the penal statutes. But , almost at 
 the same time , a respectful petition from that body, praying for 
 " the restoration to them of some share in the elective franchise ," 
 was , with a degree of bitterness and indignity which seemed as it 
 were a relief after their late effort of liberality, spurned away from 
 the table of the House of Commons ; thus not only poisoning 
 the scanty measure of relief just afforded , but teaching the Ca- 
 tholic how to estimate the sudden access of generosity by which 
 the very same parliament was actuated towards him in the following 
 year, when , in a moment of panic , they of themselves hurried for- 
 ward to invest him with even more extensive rights than those which 
 the petition , now so insultingly thrown out , solicited. 
 
 In the course of the session of 1792 , two fearful predictions were 
 uttered, of one of which the accomplishment followed but too speedily . 
 In exposing the gross corruption of the government , Mr. Pon- 
 sonby said strongly, that " an hour would come when the country 
 would endure any extremity rather than submit to the system of 
 influence that had been established ; " and Mr. Grattan , in the 
 debate on the Catholic Bill , alluding to the prospect of a Union , 
 which was then , for the second or third time in the course of the 
 century, threatened , pronounced it a measure that " would be fatal 
 to England, beginning with a false compromise which they might 
 call a Union , to end in eternal separation through the process of 
 two civil wars." 
 
 The immediate effect of the haughty repulse which the Catholics 
 suffered this session , was to impress upon themselves and their 
 Protestant advisers the necessity of acting with redoubled vigour in 
 future, and of devising some plan by which the collective sense of 
 the whole Catholic population might be brought to bear, peacefully 
 and legally, but, at the same time, with all the weight implied in 
 such formidable unanimity, upon the government. This they were 
 enabled to effect towards the close of 1792 , by a system of delega- 
 tion, embracing all the counties and many of the great towns and 
 districts of Ireland. Writs were issued to the electoral bodies, who 
 had been , in each place , chosen to name the delegates , and in the 
 month of December, a Convention, representing the entire Catholic
 
 i 79 3 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 89 
 
 population , commenced its sittings with all the forms of a Legislative 
 Assembly, in Dublin. 
 
 Authoritative and commanding , in itself, as speaking the voice of 
 at least three-fourths of the nation , this body was also backed by a 
 considerable proportion of the Protestant talent and spirit of the 
 country, in and out of parliament , as well as by the daily increasing 
 confederacy of the Presbyterian republicans of the North. While the 
 late Catholic Bill had been before the House, a petition was sent up, 
 signed by numbers of the most respectable persons in Belfast, pray- 
 ing that the Legislature would repeal all penal laws against the Ca- 
 tholics , and place them on the same footing w ith their Protestant 
 fellow -subjects. 
 
 Among other symptoms of the rapid progress now making tow ards 
 that national union from which alone English supremacy has any 
 danger to fear, it is mentioned that the Volunteers of Dublin, on the 
 recent celebration of the 4th of November, had refused to parade , 
 as usual, round the statue of King William, and that, while all of 
 them had discarded their orange ribbons , some had even appeared , 
 on that day, in cockades of the national green. But the event, among 
 these minor indications of public feeling , in which the government 
 must have seen most formidably shadowed out the forthcoming re- 
 sults of their own obstinate misrule, was the enthusiastic reception 
 given , at Belfast % to the five Catholic Delegates , whom the General 
 Committee had deputed to lay their Petition before the King. "On 
 their departure," say the accounts of the day, " the assembled po- 
 pulace took the horses from their carriage , and drew them quite 
 through the town over the long bridge on the road to Donaghadee , 
 amidst the loudest huzzas and cries of ' Success attend you ,' ' Union,' 
 1 Equal laws ,' and ' Down with the Ascendancy.' " 
 
 Such, as briefly brought before the eyes of my readers as the 
 subject would allow, was Ihe stale of ominous excitement to which 
 a long train of causes , foreign and domestic , all tending towards the 
 same inevitable crisis , had concurred in winding up the public mind 
 in Ireland, at the time when Lord Edward arrived to fix his residence 
 in that country. He found the Parliament already assembled, and 
 had not more than a day or two taken his seat , when , in the course 
 of a Debate on an Address to the Lord Lieutenant , he , by one of 
 those short bursts of feeling which have a far better chance of living 
 in history than the most elaborate harangue, showed how unrestrain- 
 edly all his sympathies had , even at this time , committed themselves 
 with the great national struggle in which his countrymen were en- 
 gaged. 
 
 ' December, 1792.
 
 <X) MEMOIRS i?g3. 
 
 Jn order to understand clearly the occasion on which this manifest- 
 ation of his feelings was called forth , a brief reference to some an- 
 terior circumstances, marked strongly with the character of the times, 
 may not be superfluous. 
 
 Among the many plans devised by the United Irishmen , for band- 
 ing and organizing the people, a revival, or rather extension, of the 
 old volunteer system had been resorted to with success by the patriots 
 of the North, and was now about to be tried, on even a more daring 
 scale, in Dublin. An armed association, calling themselves the "'First 
 National Battalion," and bearing, for their device, an Irish harp, 
 without a crown, surmounted by a cap of Liberty, had, in the 
 month of December , 1792 , sent forth summonses for the meeting 
 of their corps : but a Proclamation , issued by Government on the 
 day preceding their meeting , put a stop to the design. 
 
 Notwithstanding this , however, an assembly of Delegates from 
 the Old Volunteer corps of Dublin announced their intention , shortly 
 after, of holding a meeting to celebrate the late retreat of the Duke 
 of Brunswick, and the French victory in Brabant. To confound these 
 old established corps of Volunteers with the new military associations 
 emanating from the system of the United Irishmen , w as the obvious 
 policy of a government interested in suppressing all such combina- 
 tions. In order to render, however, the proclamation issued against 
 the National Guard available for the dispersion of more innocent 
 assemblages , it was thought necessary, as a matter of form , to apply 
 for the sanction of Parliament ; and a motion was accordingly made , 
 on the 31st of January, for an Address to the Lord Lieutenant, ap- 
 proving of the Proclamation , and pledging the House to support 
 cordially such measures as might be necessary to bring it into full 
 effect. 
 
 It was on this occasion that Lord Edward Fitzgerald gave vent to 
 his feelings in those few bold words, to which I have already ad- 
 verted, and which have been recorded with such fidelity by all 
 historians of the Irish Parliament. At the very end of the discussion , 
 after several of the chief members of opposition , and , among others, 
 Mr. Graltan himself, had declared their approval of the Proclama- 
 tion , and condemned strongly the republican language of some of 
 the summonses and resolutions of the volunteers , Lord Edward , as 
 if unable any longer to contain himself, started up, andjftith great 
 energy of manner, said " Sir, I give my most hearty disapproba- 
 tion to this address , for I do think that the Lord Lieutenant and the 
 majority of this House are the worst subjects the King has.' 1 
 
 Loud cries of "to the Bar" and "take down his words" re- 
 sounded instantly from all sides. The House was cleared in a moment, 
 and nearly three hours elapsed before strangers were re-admitted .
 
 i? 9 3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 91 
 
 During this interval attempts were in vain made to induce the re- 
 fractory member to apologize. All that either persuasion or the 
 threatened rigour of the House could draw from him was a few 
 equivocal words, in which, with some humour (if the report I 
 have heard of them be true ) , he re-asserted his former obnoxious 
 opinion, saying, " I am accused of having declared that I think 
 the Lord Lieutenant and the majority of this House the worst sub- 
 jects the King has : I said so, 't is true, and F m sorry for it.' 
 If such really were the terms of his lordship's explanation , it can 
 but little surprise us that the House should have come to a unanimous 
 resolution, "that the excuse offered by the Right Hon. Edward 
 Fitzgerald , comm^ply called Lord Edward Fitzgerald, for the said 
 words so spoken, is unsatisfactory and insufficient." 
 
 This resolution was followed by an order., passed also unanim- 
 ously, " that Lord Edward Fitzgerald do attend at the bar of this 
 House to-morrow. 11 , On the following day he appeared accordingly 
 in custody, at the bar, and , being again called upon by the Speaker, 
 offered a few words of explanation , of which no report has been 
 preserved, but which could hardly have been of a very penitential 
 nature , as on the question being put whether the House should 
 receive the excuse , there appeared a minority of no less than 55 
 against accepting it. 
 
 In about a week after this occurrence , we find him again stand- 
 ing forth, almost singly, against government, and raising his voice 
 in reprobation of that system of coercion which the new aspect of 
 affairs abroad was now emboldening them to adopt. At the first 
 opening of the session , a more liberal spirit had seemed to pervade 
 their councils. The prospect of an immediate war with France, 
 still more formidable from the prevalence of her principles than of 
 her arms, the alliance rapidly cementing between the Dissenters 
 and Catholics, both victims of the Church Establishment, and the 
 latter, outcasts of the State , the commanding attitude assumed 
 by the delegates of so many millions , in Convention , all these 
 considerations had, at the commencement of this session of 1793 , 
 produced suddenly , on the part of the government , a disposition 
 towards conciliation and justice, which, while it completely took 
 all their parliamentary adherents by surprise , w as yet seconded by 
 these ever ready instruments with a degree of docility that brought 
 discredit alike on authority and its supporters , and rendered them 
 hardly more respectable in the right than in the wrong. 
 
 What had occurred too, during the summer, rendered this sud- 
 den conversion of the ruling parly still more startling. The haughty 
 rejection of the Catholic prayer in the preceding session had been 
 regarded by all the enemies of religious freedom as a signal for the
 
 92 MEMOIRS 1793. 
 
 indulgence at once of their loyal and intolerant zeal. In the course i 
 of the summer months , the most violent declarations had been issued 
 fay most of the Grand Juries and Corporations, denouncing fiercely, 
 not only the religious , but the moral and political tenets of the Ca- 
 tholics , and proffering prodigally the aid of their own lives and for- 
 tunes in excluding them from all further power. At more than one of 
 these inflammatory meetings persons high in official trust assisted ; 
 and the greater number of them , it was supposed , had received 
 sanction and impulse from the ruling powers. 
 
 Almost in the very face of this movement, with that blind reck- 
 lessness of character by which such a government forfeits the confi- 
 dence of its friends, without, in the least degfte, conciliating the 
 good-will of its opponents , the present session opened with a re- 
 commendation to parliament to take into its "wise and liberal" 
 consideration the condition of his majesty's Catholic subjects. The 
 measure of grace was , in this instance , represented as originating 
 in the bounty of the Crown 5 and a deputation from that lately exe- 
 crated body, the Catholic Convention , was now seen , day alter day, 
 amicably closeted with the minister, negotiating for their admission 
 to power on a far wider basis than that from which , but a few months 
 before, the same minister had so contemptuously dislodged them. 
 
 While thus, on one of the two great questions that agitated the 
 country, some symptoms of a more just and liberal policy were 
 manifested , on the other no less vital subject , Parliamentary Re- 
 form , an admission had been , for the first time , made , on the 
 part of the ruling powers , of the principle and practicability of 
 such a measure , by their consenting to the appointment of a Com- 
 mittee to inquire into the state of the representation '. 
 
 This prospect of a change of policy, and in the unexpected di- 
 rection of tolerance and reform , was hailed by all friends of their 
 country with a degree of satisfaction and hope which unfortunately 
 was allowed but a short period of indulgence. The star of French 
 freedom had, about this time, begun to darken, and, as it was 
 thought, decline in its course. The execution of the King, the 
 daily increasing excesses of the Jacobins , and the state of moral as 
 well as political disorganization into which all France seemed sink- 
 ing, had begun to bring odium upon the theories of the youthful 
 Republic , while her present reverses in Flanders were dissolving 
 fast the spell of her arms; and the effect of both these causes com- 
 bined , at the period of which we are speaking , was to produce a 
 
 1 "Whence does all this beuiguity How?" said Lord Charlemout, in a leller 
 to Mr. Hardy j "I doubt much whether Monsieur Dumourier ever heard of a 
 Parliamentary Reform , and yet I am almost tempted to suspect him of having 
 some ih'ire in what is now going forward."
 
 i; 9 3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 9;j 
 
 rc-aclion in favour of ancient institutions throughout Europe, of 
 which Legitimate Power, tottering as he had been from his base , 
 in all quarters, was now hastening to take advantage, for the re- 
 covery of his balance. 
 
 In Ireland , where but little encouragement was ever wanting to 
 induce its rulers to persevere in , or return to , old abuses, the effects 
 of this brightening up of the cause of Thrones were instantly per- 
 ceptible. Though it was now too late to retract the promised boon 
 to the Catholics , the favour could be, at least , they knew, "shorn 
 of its beams ; " and , instead of considering any longer how much 
 might be accorded with graciousness , the minister now only calcu- 
 lated how much could be withheld with safety. The glimpse of Re- 
 form , too , that had been so reluctantly held forth was withdrawn , 
 and a course of coercive and inquisitorial measures forthwith entered 
 upon , which , like all such legislation , gendered of injustice and 
 fear, but provoked those very evils of which they professed to be 
 the cure. 
 
 To the severe acts passed this session, the forerunners, as it was 
 found of others still severer, the opposition party in parliament af- 
 forded, it must be owned, too ready a sanction ; partly, at first , 
 from complaisance to a government which they thought inclined to 
 do right , and partly, afterwards , from fear of a people whom they 
 saw goaded into doing wrong. Even Mr. Grattan himself but faintly, 
 if at all, opposed a measure ' which , a few years after, in a Petition 
 from the Whig Club, attributed to his pen , he thus strongly character- 
 ized. "They then proceeded ," he says, speaking of the government 
 of this period , " to a system of coercion to support their corruption , 
 and to dragoon the people, as they had bought the parliament. 
 They began that system by an act which tended, in a qualified 
 manner, to disarm his majesty's subjects , under certain regulations, 
 named a Gunpowder Bill , and which had principally in view to put 
 down the Irish Volunteers; and, to check the discontent which grew 
 from this measure , further measures of violence , and new causes of 
 discontent, were resorted to." 
 
 It was on the discussion of the act here specified, the Gunpowder 
 Bill , that Lord Edwr^d , as I have already intimated . stood forth , 
 almost alone, against the government, condemning, particularly, 
 the clause imposing penalties on the removal of arms from one place 
 to another, and pronouncing the whole bill to be, from beginning 
 to end, a penal law. 
 
 The Convention Bill , another of the coercive acts of this session , 
 the sole effect of which was, by producing still deeper discontent, 
 
 1 The Gunpowder Bill.
 
 04 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 to render measures of still more searching severity necessary, was , 
 it is true, combated, with his usual vigour, by Mr. Graltan, in 
 every stage '. But he found but feeble support from the remainder 
 of his party. Only three lords , the Duke of Leinster, the Earl of 
 Charlemont, and the Earl of Arran, voted against the bill in the 
 House of Peers , while Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Mr. Grattan 
 formed part of a minority of but 27 to 128, that recorded their 
 reprobation of it in the House of Commons. 
 
 I shall now give some letters written by his lordship in the course 
 of this and the succeeding year. 
 
 "April, 1793. 
 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " I have been very idle , and so has my dear little wife ; but I 
 hope you will forgive us , she is afraid you are angry with her. 
 The truth is , the sitting up so late has made us late in the morning , 
 and we get on so agreeably, and chatter so much in the morning , 
 that the day is over before we know where we are. Dublin has been 
 very gay, a great number of balls, of which the lady misses none. 
 Dancing is a great passion with her : I wish you could see her dance, 
 you would delight in it, she dances so with all her heart and soul. 
 JEvery body seems to like her, and behave civilly and kindly to her. 
 There was a kind of something about visiting with Lady Leitrim , 
 but it is all over now. We dined there on Sunday, and she was quite 
 pleasant, and Pamela likes her very much. 
 
 "We have not been able yet to go to Caslletown to stay, but in- 
 tend going there next week. I had one very pleasant day with dear 
 aunt Louisa , and had a long talk about you , which was not the least 
 pleasant part of it. We have been four or five limes to Frescati $ but 
 the weather has been too cold to enjoy it well : you know what a 
 difference that makes in every thing with me. Pray tell Ogilvie I have 
 deferred speaking to Byrne till the spring was a little more advanced, 
 to show it in beauty to him. If the weather comes mild I shall go 
 and stay there, for I long for a little country and a little fine 
 weather. 
 
 "There is nothing going on in the House, and I believe our Re- 
 form will not take us long, so that I suppose Dublin will soon be 
 empty. I find by your letter that people are as violent about politics 
 in London as they are here , which is pretty well. My differing so 
 very much in opinion with the people that one is unavoidably obliged 
 to live with here , does not add much , you may guess , to the agree- 
 
 * "This bill, sir," said that great man, " I pronopnce to be the boldest step 
 that was ever yet made towards introducing a military government."
 
 i 7 y3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 95 
 
 ableness of Dublin society. But I have- followed my dear mother's 
 advice, and do not talk much on the subject, and when I do, am 
 very cool. It certainly is the best way } but all my prudence does not 
 hinder all sorts of stories being made about both my wife and me, 
 some of which, I am afraid, have frightened you , dearest mother. 
 It is*rather hard that when, with a wish to avoid disputing, one 
 sees and talks only to a few people , of one's own way of thinking , 
 we are, at once, all set down as a nest of traitors. From what you 
 know of me. you may guess all this has not much changed my opi- 
 nions ; but I keep very quiet, do not go out much , except to see 
 in\ wife dance, and, in short, keep my breath to cool my por- 
 ridge. 
 
 "Your affectionate son , 
 
 "E. F." 
 
 " Frescati , April 2yth , 1790. 
 
 "Ogilvie will have glorious weather for his journey ; I shall be 
 delighted to see him ; he does quite right to come : I believe Lord 
 W** only wails to see him to settle about Frescati. Mrs. S**, whom 
 I saw yesterday, told me he was now determined on taking it. He 
 has been shilly-shally about it lately, but is now fixed; this makes 
 me, at last, look about me. I have heard of a place in the county 
 of Wicklow which I think will do for me ; a Mr. Magennis had it , 
 and Ihe description he gives of it is delightful : in a beautiful coun- 
 try between Wicklow and Arklow, a small house with forty acres of 
 land, some trees upon it near the sea-side, evergreens the most beau- 
 tiful growing among the rocks, the rent 90/. a year. We are going to 
 see that and some other places that are to be let to-morrow. We go 
 to Newbridge , twenty-six miles from this , and mean to stay Hire* 1 
 days there to look about us. 
 
 " I have heard a beauliful description of that part of the county 
 of Wicklow, and every thing lets cheaper than about the parts we 
 know. I think I shall like any thing in the county of Wicklow bet- 
 ter than Leinster Lodge or Kildare , the country is so much more 
 beautiful ; and when one is to settle , why not chuse a pretty spot and 
 pretty country ? I think it is worth while paying a little more rent , 
 and , if necessary, curtailing in other things , as in servants or horses. 
 I o\vn also I like not to be Lord Edward Fitzgerald, ' the county of 
 Kildare member,' etc. , etc. , to be bored with ' this one is your 
 brother's friend/ ' that man voted against him,' etc. In short , by 
 what I hear of this place , I shall be very quiet , not a gentleman 
 nearer me than six miles, except a young Mr. Tighe, whom I 
 like. 
 
 I am a lillle ashamed when I reason and say to myself ' Leinster
 
 96 MEMOIRS i 79 3. 
 
 Lodge would be the most profitable. Ninety persons of one hundred 
 would chuse it, and be delighted to get it.' It is, to be sure, in a 
 good country, plentiful , affords every thing a person wants , but it 
 has not mountains and rocks , and I do like mountains and rocks , 
 and pretty views, and pretty hedges, and pretty cabins, ay, and 
 a pleasanter people. In short, I shall certainly, I think , fix dh the 
 Wicklow place ; that is , if I like it. If not , I shall take some place 
 that is to be let for the summer, or by the month , to go to from 
 here. 
 
 "Poor Frescati ! I shall be sorry to leave it. I look at all the trees 
 and places with regret. I hope , however, to see every thing blossom 
 before I go , for two or three days more will bring all the lilacs 
 completely. My dear little wife is very well goes on delightfully. 
 I never saw her look so well : she grows both broad and long. In- 
 deed, she has quite taken a fit of growing." 
 
 " Frescati, May 6th, 1793. 
 
 "DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 "Wife and I are come to settle here. We came last night, got 
 up to a delightful spring day, and are now enjoying the little book- 
 room, with the windows open, hearing the birds sing, and the 
 place looking beautiful. The plants in the passage are just watered ; 
 and , with the passage door open , the room smells like a green- 
 house. Pamela has dressed four beautiful flower-pots , and is now 
 working at her frame, while I write to my dearest mother ; and 
 upon the two little stands there are six pots of fine auriculas , and 
 I am sitting in the bay window, with all those pleasant feelings 
 which the fine weather, the pretty place , the singing birds , the 
 pretty wife, and Frescati give me, with your last dear letter to 
 my wife before me : so you may judge how I love you at this 
 moment. Yes, dearest mother, I am delighted at the Malvern party, 
 and am determined to meet you there, or wherever you are. I dote on 
 being with you any where, but particularly in the country, as I think 
 we always enjoy one another's company there more than in town. 
 I long for a little walk with you , leaning on me , or to have a long 
 talk with you, sitting out in some pretty spot, of a fine day, with 
 your long cane in your hand , working at some little weed at your 
 feet , and looking down , talking all the time. I won't go on in this 
 way, for I should want to set out directly, and that cannot be, so 
 I shall give you some account of what we have been doing. We 
 were here a fortnight with the Henries , and were very pleasant : 
 
 " May 8th. My dearest, I was slopped in my letter by my dear
 
 17Q3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 07 
 
 wife being taken very ill; she is now much belter, and is going on 
 as well as possible. She has not kept her bed. by the doctor's advice, 
 but lies on the couch in the book-room. I was frightened a good 
 deal the first day at her great weakness, but she is much stronger 
 to-day, and I feel quite comfortable about her. Emily says she will 
 write to you, and tell you every tiling about her belter than me. We 
 have luckily had two of the finesl days that ever were, so we have 
 all the windows open. Not to be far from her, I am amusing myself 
 dressing the little beds about the house , and have had the little 
 green full mowed and rolled ; the liltle mound of earth lhat is 
 round the bays and myrtle before the house , I have planted \\ ith 
 tufts of genlianellas and primroses, and lily of Ihe valley, and 
 Ihey look beautiful , peeping out of the dark evergreen : close to 
 the root of Ihe great elm I have put a patch of lily of the valley. 
 I have got the beds well dressed , and the whole thing looks beau- 
 tiful , and I mean to keep it as neat as possible while here : in 
 short , dearest mother, at this moment I only want you here , 
 and little wife well ; for, in the midst of the fine weather, I want 
 her to enjoy them with me. 
 
 " Pray, when shall you be at Malvern? I shall wish to give her a 
 month or three weeks' sea-bathing ; so I expect to be ready to 
 meet you in the beginning or middle of June. Emily, who is here, 
 says the Henries set out on Sunday : we shall miss them terribly. Lady 
 H. has been kinder than I can say about my wife, every thing I 
 could wish. and that is saying a great deal. 
 
 " Give my love to all the dear girls and Ogilvie-, tell them I long 
 to see them. I hope dear Ciss is quite well, and takes good long rides. 
 I know she dotes on a fine spring ride. I was in hopes Pamela would 
 have been able to ride with her, when we met ; but I am afraid we 
 must give that up. Tell her we got the bracelets, and thank her very 
 much. Pamela is as bad about writing as me, but I will make one 
 excuse, she has, of late, had no time, for I kept her out all day, 
 and took up her time to dissipate her, and prevent her thinking on, 
 and vexing herself about, all these French affairs, which have dis- 
 tressed her very much. Good bye, dearest mother, I have said all my 
 say, so bless you a thousand times. The dear little, pale, pretty 
 wife sends her love to you. 
 
 " Your 
 
 " EDWARD." 
 
 Frescati, June n, i/gS. 
 
 : ' DEAREST MOTHER, 
 
 " We returned here yesterday from Castlelown , where we had 
 been a week. We had promised to go there a long time, but could 
 
 7
 
 98 MEMOIRS i; 9 7. 
 
 nol prevail on ourselves to leave this sweet place , where we are so 
 comfortable. However, we at last look a good resolution, and when 
 once there , passed a very pleasant week ; but were delighted to 
 return here yesterday evening, and enjoy this place, which is now 
 in perfection. All the shrubs are out, lilac, laburnum, syringa, 
 spring roses, and lily of the valley, in quantities, four pots full now 
 in the book-room, in short, the whole thing is heavenly. I believe 
 there never was a person who understood planting and making a 
 place as you do. The more one sees Carton and this place, the more 
 one admires them $ the mixture of plants and the succession of them 
 are so well arranged. We went to the cottage from Castletown ; it 
 is in high beauty, in spite of neglect and contrivance to spoil it. The 
 Leinsters are all in the country settled , and intend to enjoy it, they 
 say. We shall pay them a visit after my wife has had a fortnight's 
 bathing. 
 
 " Our Parliament did business yesterday. What is to be done was 
 partly told us, a new arrangement of the revenues , a pension bill, 
 and a place bill, but the sums not mentioned. I am afraid we shall 
 have onlyybrra , not substance, no saving of expense , no abolition 
 of places , and a great increase of taxes. Ogilvie will explain it all to 
 you , if you wish to know it. What is to be done, though , will , I 
 believe , take a good deal of time. I do not think we shall be up 
 these six weeks, which I am vexed at, as it w ill delay us seeing you, 
 dear, dear mother ; but we shall enjoy Frescali. I wish Ogilvie was 
 here now, and in parliament j he would be of use. I think we shall 
 be bamboozled or deceived in this arrangement. I do not think our 
 people understand well what they are about. Tell Ogilvie how much 
 I thank him for subscribing for me to Charles Fox's business j I will 
 pay him the half of it this June." 
 
 " Dublin, Saturday, 
 2^th December, ij^S. 
 
 " We arrived here last night 1 , after a good passage of thirty- 
 nine hours, all well , and not much tired. We intend to go to Carton 
 to-morrow, stay a day there, and go from thence to Castletown. Our 
 journey was pleasant enough, the weather favourable. We eat-your 
 pie on board ship, it was excellent. I am not yet accustomed to be 
 away from you , and think of dear Malvern with great regret, so 
 cheerful and so pleasant. After I got into the carriage , I recollected 
 I had not bid Ogilvie good bye. I hope he saw that it was from my 
 hurry to get the parting over, and not from being careless about 
 leaving him ; for really I was very sorry, and must have been very 
 
 1 His lordship and Lady Edward had been passing some time willi the Duchess 
 of Leinsler at Malvcru.
 
 i 7 g.;. OF LORD EDWAftD FITZGERALD. 99 
 
 ungrateful if I had nol, for he was as pleasant and kind as possible to 
 me and my wife the whole time ; but I was vexed with myself that my 
 hurry should have given me an appearance of neglect, where my 
 heart spoke directly contrary. God bless you, dear, dear mother, 
 and believe me , 
 
 " Your affectionate, etc." 
 
 " Dublin , Jan. 25, 1794. 
 
 " I beg pardon for putting off answering your two dear letters so 
 long, but the hurry of Castletown (what with balls, and hunting, and 
 sitting after dinner), took up all one's time. We left Gastletown last 
 Monday, to make our Carton visit, where we stay till next week, and 
 then go to Frescati. the quiet of which I long for. I assure you I often 
 regret our dear quiet Malvern, and no party will ever be so pleasant 
 to me. My dear little wife has , upon the whole, been cheerful and 
 amused , /svhich of course pleases me. I never have received an 
 answer from her mother, so that Pamela is still ignorant of what has 
 happened. 
 
 " Politics do not go on well, I think. The leaders of Opposition 
 are all afraid of the people, and distrusted fay them of course. Leinster 
 really is the only man who seems fair and honest, and not frightened; 
 but as he sees himself not supported by the rest of the party, and does 
 notapprove of their ways of thinking , he means to keep quiet , and 
 entirely out of the business. Conolly is the same as usual, both 
 ways ; but determined not to support government. His militia has 
 frightened him : he swears they are all republicans , as well as every 
 man in the North. He concludes all his speeches by cursing presby- 
 terians : he means well and honestly, dear fellow, but his line of 
 proceeding is wrong. Grattan T can make nothing of. His speech last 
 night on the Address was very bad, and the worst doctrine ever laid 
 down, 1 viz. that this country is bound, right or wrong, without 
 inquiry to support England in any war she may undertake. There 
 was no division on the Address, but I believe there will be something 
 done to-night. If there is not, I shall not go to Parliament again 
 during the session. It is in vain to look to that quarter for any thing ; 
 and if the people don't help themselves, why, they must suffer. There 
 is not a person that doesn't abuse this war, yet no man will take 
 measures to stop it. It will stop itself at last , but I am afraid with 
 very bad consequences. 
 
 " I won't bore you any more about our politics : you may see 
 I am not in great good-humour about them. If we do any thing to- 
 
 1 In his war politics Mr. Grattan was at least consistent, the last great speech 
 he ever made having been in favour of the war with France in 1815.
 
 100 MEMOIRS 1794. 
 
 night to support Charles Fox and his friends against the war, I shall 
 be in belter humour. I own altogether I am greatly provoked at them 
 all, when I see every man acting in the very manner calculated to 
 bring on those ills they say they are so afraid of; but no more on 
 this subject. 
 
 " I don't know whether aunt Louisa wrote you word that Conolly 
 wants to give me his lodge at Kildare , all furnished and ready. 
 However, I don't think I shall take it : indeed I am determined 7iot; 
 it is too much to accept as a present ; but I have some thoughts 
 of borrowing it for next summer, trying if I like it , and if it will 
 suit me, I will then take it off his hands , and pay him what it is 
 worth. I understand it is worth about 300/. as it stands , furniture 
 and all. The situation certainly is advantageous for me : six miles 
 from Kilrush, across the Curragh; not too large, and the country 
 round pleasant. If I want a farm I can have one on my own estate : 
 if I don't chuseto undertake a farm, and wish to leave the countrx 
 for any time , the place is so small it can be taken care of by om* 
 person, at little expense. I think I may try it for some time. 
 
 " I own that, though I feel so much inclination to settle quielly 
 and turn farmer, I dread any thing that would oblige me to sla\ 
 long from my dearest mother, which a great farm might do, unless 
 I had somebody whom I could depend on to look after it while I am 
 away. If one pays attention to it , I understand by all I hear, that a 
 grass farm is certainly a profitable thing. Now I think by taking 
 Conolly's place for a year or so , and my farm on my own estate , 
 which only pays me 14/. a year, I may try my hand safely, and not 
 risk much when I leave it ; and perhaps, in the course of carrying 
 it on, find somebody I could trust to manage my business while 
 away. I am constantly turning all this over and over in my head, and 
 have time to consider, as Leinster Lodge cannot be had till November, 
 and I shall in the meantime enjoy dear Frescati. I shall lake a turn 
 from there in April, and show my wife Ihe two places. She al present 
 inclines to the small house , as I do myself. I do like a small place 
 so much better than a large one." 
 
 " Frescati , Feb. 6th, 1794. 
 
 "I have got an under-gardener (myself) lo prepare some spots 
 for flowers , and to help Tim. I have been hard at work to-day and 
 part of yesterday ( by Ihe by, weather so hot , I go without coat , 
 and the birds singing like spring ) , cleaning the litlle corner to Ihe 
 right of the house , digging round roots of trees , raking ground , 
 and planting thirteen two-year old laurels and Portugal laurels. I 
 have also trimmed the rose-trees. The flowers and shrubs had ali 
 got out of the little green paling ; I am now putting them inside ,
 
 * 7 94. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 101 
 
 and iiiciii) only to have a border of primroses and polyanthus out- 
 side, if I have any. I mean from thence to go to the rosery, and 
 then to the little new planted corner. I am to have hyacinths , jon- 
 quils, pinks, cloves, narcissuses, etc., in little beds before the 
 house , and in the rosery. Some parts of the long round require a 
 great deal of pruning , and trees to be cut ; if you trust me , I 
 think I could do it prudently, and have the wood laid fay. There 
 are numbers of trees quite spoiling one another. 
 
 " God bless you , dear mother, I am now going to make my gar- 
 dener work , for he does nothing if I am not with him. Pamela sends 
 you her love ; hers and mine to all the rest. Bless you all : this is loo 
 fine a day to slay longer writing. I wish to God you were here. If 
 you want any thing done, tell me , if you like what I am doing , tell 
 me ; if you like the part of Ihe house we have taken , lell me.' 1 
 
 " Frescati , Feb. igth , 1794. 
 ****** 
 
 " I live here constantly. Pam has not been in town since we came. 
 She goes lo Ihe manufacturers' ball on Friday. She is quite well , 
 eats , drinks , and sleeps well 5 she works a great deal , and I read lo 
 her. 1 have left off gardening , for I hated that all my troubles should 
 go for that vile Lord W * *, and my flowers lo be for aides-de-camp , 
 
 chaplains , and all such followers of a lord-lieutenant '." 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Kildare, June a3d, 1794. 
 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 " I write to you in the middle of settling and arranging my little 
 family here 2 . But the day is fine , Ihe spot looks pretty, quiet , and 
 comfortable; I feel pleasant , contented, and happy, and all these 
 feelings and sights never come across me without bringing dearest , 
 dearest mother to my heart's recollection. I am sure you understand 
 these feelings , dear mother. How you would like this little spol! it is 
 the smallest thing imaginable, and lo numbers would have no beauty; 
 but there is a comfort and moderation in it that delights me. I don't 
 know how I can describe it to you , but I will try. 
 
 "After going up a little lane , and in al a close gale, you come on a 
 lillle white house, with a small gravel court before it. You see but three 
 small window s , Ihe courl surrounded by large old elms ; one side of 
 the house covered with shrubs , on the olher side a Iplerable large 
 
 1 The noblemuD here alluded to had, al this time, some idea of taking Kiescali. 
 7 Mr. Conolly's Lodge in the town of Kildare, to which his lordship had now 
 removed.
 
 102 MEMOIRS 179',. 
 
 ash j upon the stairs going up to the house , two wicker cages , in 
 which there are at this moment two thrushes , singing a gorge de- 
 ployee. In coming into the house , you find a small passage-hall , 
 very clean, the floor tiled $ upon your left, a small room -, on the 
 right , the staircase. In front , you come into the parlour, a good 
 room , with a bow-window looking into the garden , which is a small 
 green plot , surrounded by good trees , and in it three of the finest 
 thorns I ever saw, and all the trees so placed that you may shade 
 yourself from the sun all hours of the day , the bow-window, covered 
 with honeysuckle , and up to the window some roses. 
 
 " Going up stairs you find another bow-room, the honeysuckle 
 almost up to it , and a little room the same size as that below ; this , 
 with a kitchen or servants' hall below, is the whole house. There is , 
 on the left, in the court-yard, another building which makes a 
 kitchen , it is covered by trees , so as to look pretty ; at the back of it , 
 there is a yard , etc., which looks into a lane. On the side of the house 
 opposite the grass plot , there is ground enough for a flower-garden , 
 communicating with the front garden by a little walk. 
 
 " The whole place is situated on a kind of rampart , of a circular 
 form , surrounded by a wall ; which wall , towards the village and 
 lane , is high , but covered with trees and shrubs ; the trees old and 
 large, giving a great deal of shade. Towards the country the wall is 
 not higher than your knee , and this covered with bushes : from 
 these open parts you have a view of a pretty cultivated country, till 
 your eye is stopped by the Curragh. From our place there is a back 
 way to these fields , so as to go out and walk , without having to do 
 with the town. 
 
 u This , dearest mother, is the spot as well as I can give it you , 
 but it don't describe well J ; one must see it and feel it ; it is all the 
 little peeps and ideas that go with it that make the beauty of it to 
 me. My dear wife dotes on it , and becomes it. She is busy, in her 
 little American jacket , planting sweet peas and mignonette. Her 
 table and work-box, with the little one's caps, are on the table. I 
 wish my dearest mother was here , and the scene to me would be 
 complete. 
 
 " I will now answer some of your dear letters. 
 
 * ***** 
 
 Pam is as well as possible, better than ever ; the only inconvenience 
 she finds is great fulness , for which she was bled this morning , and 
 it has done her a great deal of good. I can't tell you how delighted 
 she was with your china, and how it adds to the little menage; it 
 
 1 I paid a visit to this spot some months since, and could trace only a few of the 
 general features here described. Of the Lodge itself there are no remains, aud the 
 whole place is iu a state of desolation.
 
 i 7 g4. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 103 
 
 is beautiful , and your dear way of buying and giving it goes to my 
 heart. What would I give to have you here drinking tea out of it ! 
 Ogilvie flattered us with the prospect the last day we dined with 
 him. If you do not come , we will go to you , when you think Pa- 
 mela will bear it. I don't know how nursing and travelling do , but 
 I should think , if the child should prove strong , it won't mind it. 
 "Parting with poor dear Frescati did make me melancholy, as 
 well as the idea of your settling away from us ; but , certainly, there 
 are good reasons for it. If you can once recover your money for 
 Frescati it will be a great object , and not be missed ; and then , after 
 parting with it, I don't think you would like Ireland. I have tired 
 you by this long scrawl. I have not said half I feel , for it is one of 
 those delightful days when one thinks and feels more than one can 
 say or write." 
 
 " Kildare, July igth, 1794- 
 
 " Thank you for your account of the Henries. I had read the ac- 
 count of the eruption in the paper, and had been just saying to Pa- 
 mela how lucky they were to be near Naples at that lime , not think- 
 ing they had been in danger. I suppose, now the danger is over, 
 they are glad to have seen it , and by the public accounts , I see 
 very few people have been killed or hurt , not so many as in a 
 trifling skirmish in Flanders. I am glad you are enjoying yourself 
 at Boyle farm. I dare say poor Henry thought of it in his fright, 
 and wished himself there. 
 
 " I have not stirred from this place since we came. I intend paying 
 a visit for a day to Castletown or Carton next week. We have been 
 busy here about the militia , the people do not like it much, that 
 is , the common people and farmers , and even though Leinster 
 has it, they do not thoroughly come into it, which I am glad of, 
 as it shows they begin not to be entirely led by names. I am sure , 
 if any person else had taken it, it could not have been raised at all. 
 It has required all his exertion to bring the people into it, in any 
 manner, and they are not at all cordial to it. We are by no means 
 so eager in this vile war as the people in England $ and if it is not 
 soon put a stop to in England , I am in hopes we shall lake some 
 strong measures against it here. Besides its wickedness and injustice, 
 it is the very height of folly and madness , and at present there is 
 much more likelihood of the French getting to Amsterdam than the 
 combined armies to Paris. 
 
 " I hear Ihere is a talk of a change here in the ministry ; but I 
 do not know any thing for cerlain. Leinsler comes here to-day, he 
 will perhaps know something. It is said Ponsonby is to come in , 
 and that there is to be a lolal removal of all the old set , with an
 
 104 MEMOIRS 1794. 
 
 offer to all the Opposition. When I see Leinster, I shall soon find 
 how the wind sets in his quarter. I trust , though , that he will be 
 stout , and have nothing to say to any of them. I know if he goes 
 over, I shall not go with him ; for my obstinacy or perseverance 
 grows stronger every day, and all the events that have passed , and 
 are passing , but convince me more and more , that these two coun- 
 tries must see very strong changes , and cannot come to good , un- 
 less they do. I won't bore you any more with politics , dear mother, 
 as I know you don't like them." 
 
 " '794- 
 " DEAREST MOTHER , 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 " 1 ought to thank you for all your kind thoughts about us , at 
 this moment , for your present of the requisites , which really 
 helped us a great deal , and which you were quite right in suppos- 
 ing we had not thought of. Pam is going on as well as possible , 
 strong , healthy, and in good spirits. We drive and walk every day : 
 she never thinks of what is to come , I believe , or if she does , it is 
 with great courage ; in short , I never saw her, I think , in such good 
 spirits. Seeing her thus makes me so, and I feel happy, and look 
 forward with good hope. Thank God ! I generally see all things in 
 the best light. 
 
 "I had a delightful letter from the girls at Hastings, one of the 
 best letters I ever read, so full of fun , wit , and humour, and every 
 thing so well told. I have not answered it yet, and am almost afraid , 
 mine must be so stupid : for I confess Leinster House does not in- 
 spire the brightest ideas. By the by, what a melancholy house it is ; 
 you can't conceive how much it appeared so , when first we came 
 from Kildare 5 but it is going off a little. A poor country housemaid 
 I brought with me cried for two days , and said she thought she was 
 in a prison. Pam and I amuse ourselves a good deal by walking about 
 the streets, which, I believe , shocks poor * * a little. Poor soul ! she 
 
 is sometimes very low. 
 
 ******* 
 
 " My little place will be charming next year; this last month and 
 the present would require my being there ; but I must take care of the 
 little young plant that is coming , which will give me great pleasure, 
 I hope. Believe me , dearest , best mother, your affectionate 
 
 "EDWARD/' 
 
 " Dublin , October 20 , 1794- 
 
 " The dear wife and baby go on as well as possible. I think I 
 need not tell you how happy I am ; it is a dear little thing , and very
 
 i :9 4- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 105 
 
 pretty now, though at first it was quite the contrary. I did not write 
 to you the first night , as Emily had done so. I wrote to M e Sillcry 
 that night and to-day, and shall write her an account every day till 
 Pam is able to write herself. I wish I could show the baby to you 
 all dear mother, how you would love it! Nothing is so delightful 
 as to see it in its dear mother's arms , with her sweet , pale , deli- 
 cate face , and the pretty looks she gives it. 
 
 " By the by, dearest mother, I suppose you won't have any ob- 
 jection to be its godmother, though I own I feel scrupulous , as you 
 were so kind to her about her lying-in clothes ; and I do hate taking 
 your poor guineas for such foolish nonsense , but still I like , as 
 there are such things, that it should be you. Charles Fox and 
 Leinster are to be the god-fathers. Pray ask Charles Fox if he has 
 any objection? Good bye, dear mother. I am going to play a game 
 of chess : there is a Sir George Shee here that plays very well : he 
 and I play a good deal. Bless you , dear mammy. Love to the dear 
 girls. "Your, etc." 
 
 " Dublin, Nov. 4th, 1794. 
 
 " Thank God! you are relieved from your anxiety for our dear 
 Lucy. She has had a bad attack , dear soul ; but I hope now she will 
 soon recover, and be better than ever, which was the case after that 
 fever she had once before at Boyle Farm. You have had a severe 
 time of it , dear mother, but I hope now you will be repaid by seeing 
 her recover. 
 
 " I am sure it will be some comfort to you to hear that my dear 
 wife goes on charmingly ; a most excellent nurse , and the little boy 
 thriving. I do not see much likeness in him to any body : he has 
 Pam's chin , the eyes blue , but not like either of ours. However, 
 at present one cannot say much , as he does not open them much. 
 Pamela is to drive out the first fine day, and in two or three days 
 after that we go to Carton. Little St. George and Edward are to be 
 christened at the same time. Thank you for standing godmother. 
 How I long to show you the little fellow ! and how I should like to 
 be with you now, my dear mother, to comfort you and keep up your 
 spirits , anti^ occupy you a little by making you nurse my little boy ! 
 
 " There is no news here about our lord-lieutenant , with which 
 people were occupied for so long a while. For one , I was very in- 
 different about it -, and , if any thing , am glad Lord Fitzwilliam does 
 not come , as perhaps it may make some of our Opposition act with 
 more spirit and determination. I think any people coming into the 
 government of this country at present will have a hard task of it. 
 
 " Your affectionate, etc/
 
 106 MEMOIRS i :9 4. 
 
 " Dublin, Nov. ijth, 1797. 
 
 " Our accounts of our dear Lucy to-day are very uncomfortable 
 and distressing ; though I think not alarming, as it is all the regular 
 progress of that kind of fever of which the danger is over, though 
 her re-establishment will be tedious. But if the accounts are distress- 
 ing to us , how much must you suffer, who are a constant attendant 
 on her, the dear soul ! and who see all her sufferings , and all the 
 changes of this tedious illness ! I do feel for you, my dearest mother, 
 from my heart , and for Ogilvie , and the dear girls. 
 
 " I have been busy these few last days, preparing to go to the 
 country. I have sent off dear Pam and the baby to-day, and follow 
 to-morrow : they are both well have been both out walking. Pain 
 gets strong , and the little fellow fat and saucy : he has taken such a 
 fancy for the candle , that it is almost impossible to make him sleep 
 at night. A cradle he don't like , and wants always to have his cheek 
 on his mamma's breast. He every day grows , I think , like me in 
 his mouth and nose 5 but the eyes I don't yet make out. Dearest mo- 
 ther, I try to give you details of things that will interest you ; and if 
 our dear Lucy is better, I know they will. It is terrible to have her 
 thus : to have all that good-nature , softness , and gaiety subdued by 
 sickness goes to one's heart ; but I hope , while I write this , she is 
 better. My dear mother, I should like to be with you , to comfort 
 you and keep up your spirits. 
 
 " Your affectionate , etc." 
 
 " Carton , Nov. 25th , 1794. 
 
 " A thousand times I wish you joy of the great amendment in our 
 dearest Lucy's health. Your letter took quite a load off my heart ; for 
 though I was not frightened after Mosely and Warren said she was 
 out of danger, yet the having her still so ill and suffering made me 
 very melancholy. Thank God ! she is so much better, and , of 
 course, my dear mother so much easier. Pray thank my dearCiss 
 for her letters. I will write in a day or two to her. 
 
 " We have been here a week. Pamela was not well for a day, 
 but it was only a little bilious attack , and a ride or two on the pony 
 quite put her right ; she is now going on perfectly well , walks 
 every day, gains her strength and good looks. The little fellow is 
 delightful, improving every day, takes his walks, and, in short, 
 is every thing we could wish , he must be taken great notice of, 
 spoken to , and danced , or otherwise he is not at all pleased. We 
 are to stay here another week , then go to Caslletown for a week , 
 and return here for the christening, which is to be the 8lh of next 
 month. This keeps us ten days longer from home than we intended,
 
 i 79 4. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 107 
 
 which I am sorry for ; but I did not like bringing the little fellow 
 down to Kildare , and then having to change him again so soon as 
 bringing him here on the 8th would have obliged me to do. So I 
 make up the time between Castletown and this place ; though., to 
 tell you the truth , longing to get home. 
 
 " My little place is much improved by a few things I have done, 
 and by all my planting; by the by, I doubt if I told you of my 
 flower-garden, I got a great deal from Frescati. I have been at 
 Kildare since Pam's lying in, and it looked delightful, though all 
 the leaves were off the trees, but so comfortable and snug. I think 
 I shall pass a delightful winter there. I have got two fine large 
 clumps of turf, which look both comfortable and pretty. I have 
 paled in my little flower-garden before my hall door, with a lath 
 paling , like the cottage , and stuck it full of roses , sweet-brier, 
 honey-suckles, and Spanish broom. I have got all my beds ready 
 for my flowers ; so you may guess how I long to be down to plant 
 them. The little fellow will be a great addition to the party. I think 
 when I am down there w ith Pam and child , of a blustery evening , 
 with a good turf fire , and a pleasant book , coming in , after 
 seeing my poultry put up, my garden settled, flowerbeds and 
 plants covered , for fear of frost , the place looking comfortable , 
 and taken care of, I shall be as happy as possible ; and sure I am I 
 shall regret nothing but not being nearer my dearest mother, and 
 her not being of our party. It is , indeed , a drawback and a great 
 one , our not being more together. Dear Malvern ! how pleasant we 
 were there : you can't think how this time of year puts me in mind 
 of it. Love always your affectionate son , 
 
 " E. F." 
 
 In reading these simple and , to an almost feminine degree , 
 fond letters , it is impossible not to feel how strange and touching is 
 the contrast , between those pictures of a happy home which they 
 so unaffectedly exhibit, and that dark and troubled sea of conspiracy 
 and revolt into which the amiable writer of them , so soon after- 
 wards , plunged ; nor can we easily bring ourselves to believe thai 
 the joyous tenant of this little Lodge, the happy husband and father, 
 dividing the day between his child and his flowers , could be the 
 same man who , but a year or two after, placed himself at the head 
 of rebel myriads, negotiated on the frontiers of France for an 
 alliance against England , and but seldom laid down his head on his 
 pillow at night without a prospect of being summoned thence to the 
 scaffold or the field. The government that could drive such a man 
 into such resistance and there were hundreds equal to him in 
 goodness, if not in heroism , so driven , is convicted by this very 
 result alone , without any further inquiry into its history.
 
 108 MEMOIRS 1794. 
 
 Though his lordship had not, at this time, nor, indeed, for a 
 year or two after, connected himself with the United Irish Associa- 
 tion any further than by a common feeling in the cause, yet that the 
 government had seen reason, even thus early, to suspect him of 
 being implicated in the conspiracy, appears from a passage in the 
 Report of the secret Committee in 1799, where, among the persons 
 who, it is stated , had, so early as the year 1794, rendered them- 
 selves obnoxious to such a suspicion , the name of his lordship is 
 included. 
 
 Besides the well known republican cast of his opinions , and the 
 complexion of the society he chiefly lived with , there was also a 
 circumstance that no doubt came to the knowledge of those in au- 
 thority, which may have had no small share in inducing this sus- 
 picion. At the beginning of 1793, soon after the declaration of war 
 against England , the ruling party in France had despatched an 
 agent to Ireland , for the purpose of sounding and conferring with 
 the chief leaders of the United Irishmen , and offering the aid of 
 French arms for the liberation of their country. This emissary was 
 the bearer of a letter of introduction to Lord Edward, who, however, 
 appears to have done nothing more towards the object of his mis- 
 sion than to make him known to Mr. Simon Butler, Mr. Bond, 
 and a few others of the parly, by whom his proposal was , after all , 
 so little countenanced that he returned , without effecting any thing 
 towards his purpose , to France. 
 
 Very different was the feeling with which a proposal of the same 
 kind was hailed , in the present year, after an increased pressure of 
 coercion had been for some time in operation upon the people , and 
 in proportion to the sullen tranquillity thus enforeed over the sur- 
 face of the public mind was the condensed purpose of revenge and 
 ripeness for explosion underneath. Nor was there a want, even 
 then , of forewarning voices to prognosticate the consequences of 
 such a state of affairs ; and Sir Lawrence Parsons , among others , 
 in urging upon ministers the necessity of being , at least , prepared 
 for the event , told them , with awful truth , that they " were sleep- 
 ing on a volcano." The person employed in this communication 
 from France was the Reverend William Jackson , whose arrest soon 
 after his arrival , while it put a stop to the immediate course of his 
 mission, served its object in a way hardly less important, by giving 
 publicity to the purpose of his visit, and , for the first time, acquaint- 
 ing the people of Ireland , from any authentic source, that the eyes 
 , of France were upon them , and that the same powerful arm which 
 was now , with restored strength and success , breaking asunder the 
 chains of other lands , might, before long , reach theirs. 
 
 It does not appear that Lord Edward was among the persons
 
 , :9 4.' OF LORD EDWARD 1-ITZGERALD. 109 
 
 \\hom Jackson , previous to his apprehension , conferred with ; nor 
 does Theobald Wolfe Tone , who has given a detailed account of 
 the whole transaction , and was himself deeply implicated in it , 
 make any mention of his lordship's name. Even apart , however, 
 from this negative evidence , we are fully warranted in concluding 
 that he w ho, to the last , as is well known , regarded French assist- 
 ance with apprehension and jealousy^ must have been among the 
 slowest and most reluctant to sanction the first recurrence to it. His 
 views, indeed , at the outset, as far as I have been able lo collect 
 from some of his earliest friends , did not extend so far as total se- 
 paration from England. Connected as he was , by blood , with that 
 country, and counting, as it proved, far too confidently on the 
 present dispositions of the English towards change and reform , he 
 looked . at first , rather to concert w ith them in the great cause of 
 freedom, than to any thing like schism, and would, at the commence- 
 ment of the struggle , have been contented with such a result as 
 should leave the liberties of both countries regenerated and secured 
 under one common head. This moderation of purpose , however, 
 gradually gave way, as the hopes by which alone it could be sus- 
 tained vanished. The rejection of the motions of Mr. Grattan and 
 Mr. Ponsonby for reform had shut out all expectation of redress 
 from the Irish government; while the tameness with which England, 
 in her horror of Jacobinism , was , at this moment, crouching under 
 the iron rule of Mr. Pitt , gave as little hope of a better order of 
 things dawning from that quarter. 
 
 In the meantime , the United Irish Society of Dublin whose 
 meetings hitherto had been held openly, were, under the sanction 
 of one of the new coercive measures , dispersed , as illegal , and the 
 whole body, thus debarred from the right of speaking out , as ci- 
 tizens, passed naturally to the next step, of plotting as conspirators. 
 Even yet , however, it does not appear that the last desperate expe- 
 dient , of recurring to force or lo foreign aid , though urged eagerly 
 by some , and long floating before the eyes of all , had entered 
 seriously into the contemplation of those who were afterwards the 
 chief leaders of the struggle ; nor can there , indeed , be any 
 stronger proof of the reluctance with which these persons suffered 
 themselves to be driven to such extremities than the known fact 
 that , at the commencement of the year 1796, neither M'Nevin , 
 nor Emmet , nor Arthur O'Connor, nor Lord Edward Fitzgerald , 
 had yet joined the ranks of the United Irishmen. 
 
 But a juncture was now at hand when , in the minds of all em- 
 barked in the cause , there could no longer remain a doubt that the 
 moment had arrived when between unconditional submission and 
 resistance lay their only choice . and w hen he who thought the
 
 110 MEMOIRS 1-34, 
 
 rights they struggled for worth such a risk must a set his life on 
 the cast ," as there was no longer any other chance of attaining 
 them. The recall of Lord Fitzwilliam was the event which , at once, 
 brought the struggle to this crisis ; and never, assuredly, was there 
 a more insulting breach of faith flung deliberately in the face of a 
 whole people. As if to render still more mischievous the disappoint- 
 ment that was about to be excited, all the preliminaries of the great 
 measure of justice now announced to the Catholics were allowed to 
 be proceeded in ; nor was it till Mr. Grattan, under the full sanc- 
 tion of government , and with hardly a murmur of dissatisfaction 
 from any part of the country, had obtained leave to bring in a Bill 
 for the complete enfranchisement of the Roman Catholics , that the 
 British minister stretched forth his hand and dashed the cup from 
 their lips. In vain did Lord Fitzwilliam set forth the danger, and 
 he might have added , perfidy, of now retracting the boon , and 
 declare that " he, at least, would not be the person to raise a flame 
 which nothing but the force of arms could put down/' The dark 
 destiny of Ireland, as usual, triumphed : with the choice before 
 them of either conciliating the people or lashing them up into re- 
 bellion, the British Cabinet chose the latter course ', and Lord 
 Filzwilliam was , in evil hour, replaced by Lord Camden. 
 
 The natural effect of this change was to reinforce instantly the 
 ranks of the United Irishmen with all that mass of discontent ge- 
 nerated by such a defiance of the public will 5 and we have it on the 
 authority of the chief rebel leaders' themselves, that out of the des- 
 pair and disgust of this moment arose an immediate and immense 
 accession of strength to their cause. Nor was it only in the increased 
 numbers of the malcontents that the operation of this policy showed 
 itself, but in the more daring extention of their plans and elevation 
 
 1 That a Union was the ultimate object of this policy, the Dnke of Portland as 
 the time clearly avowed , declaring it as his opinion , in recommending Lord Fitz- 
 william to retrace his steps on the Catholic question, that " it would be a means 
 of doing a greater good to the British empire than it had been capable of receiving 
 since the Revolution, or, at least, since the Union" With respect to the means 
 through which they had made up their minds to wade to this measure, though 
 not avowed at first, the design was, at a later period, acknowledged without 
 scruple. "It has been said," remarked Mr. Grattan, in his speech on the subject 
 of General Lake's proclamation, "that it were better the people should proceed 
 to violence ; nay, it has been said , in so many words , ' It were to be wished they 
 did rebel.' Good God! wished they would rebel! Here is the system and the 
 principle of the system. From corruption to coercion , and so on to military 
 execntion, accompanied with a declaration that it were to be wished the people 
 would go into rebellion!" The avowal, too, of Lord Castlereagh, in his examina- 
 tion of Dr. M'Neviu before the Secret Committee, that ''means were taken to 
 make the United Irish system explode ," is no less conclusive evidence of the same 
 disgraceful fact.
 
 ?9 >. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. Hi 
 
 of their aims. The Protestant reformer, whom a democratic House 
 of Commons ' and the Emancipation of his Catholic countrymen 
 would once have satisfied , now driven to take a more advanced 
 position in his demands , saw with the Presbyterian , no chance but 
 in separation and a Republic; while the Catholic, hitherto kept 
 loyal by the sort of" gratitude that is felt for favours to come," 
 and , between his new hopes and his old resentments , being, as it 
 were, half courtier and half rebel , now baffled and insulted , threw 
 his strength into the confederacy, prepared doubly for mischief 
 both by what had been given and what had been refused, the former 
 arming him with power, and the latter leaving him revenge. 
 
 Having traced thus far, as compendiously as my subject would 
 admit of, the course of that rash and headlong current of events 
 which marks this whole period of Irish history, and which could 
 not otherwise than lead to the catastrophe we are now approaching, 
 I shall, through the short remainder of my story, confine myself, 
 as much as possible , to those public occurrences more immediately 
 connected with Lord Edward himself, and with the part taken by 
 him in that deep-laid and formidable conspiracy with which , about 
 the period we have now reached , he , for the first lime , connected 
 himself; a conspiracy which . however judgments may vary as to 
 the justifiableness of its grounds or aims, can admit, I think, but 
 of one opinion with respect to the sagacious daring with which it 
 was planned , and the perseverance , fidelity, and all but success , 
 w ilh which it w as conducted. 
 
 From any great insight into the details of his private life we are 
 henceforth shut out; as, from the moment he found himself em- 
 barked in so perilous an enterprise , he , as a matter of conscience, 
 
 1 We thought," said Dr M'Nevin, "one aristocratic body in the state sufficient." 
 It must be owned, however, that with such a system of representation as was 
 proposed by the United Irishmen, no monarchy could go on. The following are 
 some of the general provisions'of their plan : 
 
 "That the nation, for the purpose of representation solely, should be divided 
 into three hundred electorates , formed by a combination of parishes , and as nearly 
 as possible equal in point of population. 
 
 "That each electorate should return one member to Parliament. 
 
 "That every male of sound mind, who has attained the age of 21 years, and 
 actually dwelt or maintained a family establishment in any electorate for six 
 months of the twelve immediately previous to the commencement of the election 
 (provided his residence, or maintaining a family establishment bednly registered), 
 shonld be entitled to vote for the representative of the electorate. 
 
 " That the votes of all electors should be given by voice , and not by ballot. 
 
 "That uo property qualification should be necessary to entitle any man to be 
 a representative. 
 
 "That representatives shonld receive a reasonable stipend for their services.. 
 
 " That Parliaments shonld be annual. "
 
 112 MEMOIRS i 79 5. 
 
 abstained from much communication with his family, feeling it lo 
 be quite a sufficient infliction to keep them in alarm for his safely, 
 without also drawing upon them suspicions that might endanger 
 their own. After his arrival from England, he, for a short time, 
 lived in some degree of style , keeping a fine stud of horses , and , 
 as I have been told , displaying the first specimen of that sort of car- 
 riage , called a curricle , which had yet appeared in Dublin. On his 
 removal , however, to the little Lodge at Kildare , he reduced his 
 establishment considerably ; and small as was his income , never, 
 I believe , exceeding eight hundred a year, it would have been , 
 for a person of his retired habits and temperate wants , amply suf- 
 ficient. But the engrossing object that now engaged him, to 
 which safety, peace of mind, and, at last, life was sacrificed, 
 absorbed likewise all his means ; the advances he found it necessary 
 to make for exigencies of the cause not only drawing upon his pre- 
 sent resources , but also forcing him to raise supplies by loans with 
 which his property was left encumbered. 
 
 It was about this time that there took place , on the Curragh of 
 Kildare , a well-known rencontre between his lordship and some 
 dragoon officers, which, like most other well-known anecdotes 
 that the biographer has to inquire into , - receives from every new 
 relater a wholly different form. The following, however, are, as 
 nearly as possible, the real circumstances of the transaction. 
 Mr. Arthur O'Connor being , at that lime , on a visit to his noble 
 friend, they rode together, on one of the days of the races , to the 
 Curragh , Lord Edward having a green silk handkerchief round 
 his neck. It was indeed his practice , at all times ( contrary to the 
 usual custom of that day ) , to wear a coloured silk neckcloth , 
 generally of that pattern which now bears the name of Belcher ; but, 
 on the present occasion, chose to wear the national and, at that 
 time, obnoxious colour, green. 
 
 At the end of the race , having left the stand-house , in a canter, 
 lo return home , the two friends had not proceeded far before Ihey 
 found themselves overtaken by a party of from ten to a dozen offi- 
 cers, who , riding past them in full gallop, wheeled round, so as to 
 obstruct their passage, and demanded that Lord Edward should 
 take off his green cravat. Thus accosted, his lordship answered 
 coolly, "Your cloth would speak you to be gentlemen; but Ihis 
 conduct conveys a very different impression. As to this neckclolh 
 that so offends you , all I can say is , here I stand : let any man 
 among you , who dares , come forward and take it off." This speech, 
 pronounced calmly and deliberately, took his pursuers by surprise; 
 and for a moment they looked puzzled at each olher, doubtful how 
 to proceed-, when Mr. O'Connor, interposing, said, that if the offi-
 
 1796 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 113 
 
 cers chose to appoint two out of their number, Lord Edward and 
 himself would be found , ready to attend their summons, at Kildare. 
 The parlies then separated, and during the two following days, 
 Lord Edward and his friend wailed the expected message. But no 
 further steps were taken by these military gentlemen , on whose 
 conduct ralhcr a significant verdict was passed at a Curragh ball , 
 shortly after, when it was agreed, as I have heard, by all the ladies 
 in the room not to accept any of them as partners. 
 
 It would appear to have been about the beginning of 1796 that 
 Lord Edward first entered into the Society of United Irishmen. 
 That he went through the usual form of initiation by an oath is not, 
 I think, probable; for, as in the case of Mr. Arthur O'Connor, they 
 dispensed with this condition , it is to be concluded that the same 
 tribute to the high honour and trustworthiness of their initiate would 
 be accorded also to Lord Edward. In the preceding year, as has been 
 already mentioned, a great change had taken place both in the spirit 
 and frame-work of the system of Union ; or, rather, an entirely 
 new system was at that time constructed , on such remains of the old 
 society as had , in the North and elsewhere, survived the operation 
 of the Convention Act. The secrecy with which they were now 
 obliged to invest their meetings made it necessary to add the solemn 
 obligation of an oath to the simple Test, which had hitherto bound 
 them together ; while an equally significant change was the omission 
 of certain words, from that Test, which had seemed to limit their 
 views to a Reform "in Parliament" The oath, as at present 
 framed , pledged every member " to persevere in his endeavours 
 to obtain an equal , full , and adequate representation of all the 
 people of Ireland," thus leaving free scope for those more ex- 
 tended projects of change w hich no less their confidence in them- 
 selves than their despair of their rulers now suggested to them. The 
 system, as hitherto constituted, had consisted but of individual 
 societies, communicating with each other by delegates 5 nor had 
 they, before this time, carried their organization any farther than* 
 to the appointment of a Committee for the county of Antrim , 
 which acted , occasionally, as Executive. 
 
 On the remodelling, however, of the association in 1795, the 
 new impulse given to its principle by the recall of Lord Fitzwilliam, 
 and the consequent increase of its numbers , called for a plan of or- 
 ganization more commensurate with the advance of the cause ; and, 
 for all the purposes, as well of secrecy, as of concert and uniformity 
 of action , it would be difficult , perhaps , to devise a plan more 
 efficient than that which they adopted. In order to avoid the mix- 
 ture of persons unknown to each other, it was fixed that no society 
 should consist of more than twelve persons , and those , as nearly 
 
 8
 
 114 MEMOIRS I79 6. 
 
 as possible, of the same street or neighbourhood. By each of these 
 societies of twelve , a secretary was chosen , and the secretaries of 
 five such societies formed a Committee , called the Lower Baronial. 
 The next step in the scale was the Upper Baronial Committee , to 
 constitute which ten Lower Baronials sent each a member; and 
 above this rose again the District , or County Commillee, composed 
 of one member chosen from each Upper Baronial. 
 
 Having provided , by these successive layers , as it were , of 
 delegated authority, each exercising a superintendence over that 
 immediately below it , for the organization of the several counties 
 and populous towns , they next superadded , in each of the four 
 provinces , a Provincial Committee , composed of two or, some- 
 times, three members elected from each of the County Committees ; 
 and , lastly, came the Executive , the apex of the system , which 
 consisted of five persons , chosen in such a manner from the Pro- 
 vincial Committees as to leave the members of the latter in entire 
 ignorance as to the individuals selected. Over the whole body thus 
 organized , the Executive possessed full command , and could 
 transmit its orders with but little risk through the whole range of 
 the Union , one member of the Executive communicating them to 
 one member of the Provincial Committee, and he again to the se- 
 cretary of the County Commillee , who , in like manner, passed 
 them down through the secretaries of the Baronials , and these on 
 to the secretaries of Ihe subordinate societies. 
 
 The facility with which it was found that this plan , though de- 
 signed, at first, for a purely civil organization, could be trans- 
 ferred, without change of its structure, to military purposes, ren- 
 dered it a doubly formidable engine in the hands that now directed 
 it. The secretary of each subordinate society of twelve was trans- 
 formed easily into a sergeant or corporal ; Ihe delegate of five so- 
 cieties to a Lower Baronial became a captain with sixty men under 
 his command, and the delegate of len Lower Baronials to a County 
 *or District Committee took rank as a colonel at the head of a batta- 
 lion of six hundred men. 
 
 Though there had been, from time to time, since the breaking 
 out of the war with France , attempts made by individuals who 
 passed secretly between the two countries to bring about an under- 
 standing between the United Irishmen and the French Directory, it 
 was not till early in the year 1796 that any regular negocialion was 
 entered into for that purpose : and Ihe person who then took upon 
 himself the office , an office, unluckily, not new in diplomacy, 
 of representing the grievances of Ireland at the court of England's 
 enemy, was Theobald Wolfe Tone, the banished Secretary of (he 
 Catholic Committee , who had , early in the year, sailed from Ame-
 
 1796. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1/5 
 
 rica lo France on this mission , and whose Diary of the whole 
 course of his negocialions has been some time before (he public. To 
 this book I must refer the reader for particulars , adding only my 
 opinion , that there are few works , whether for the matter or the 
 manner, more interesting j the character of the writer himself 
 presenting the most truly Irish mixture of daring in design and 
 light-heartedness in execution , while the sense of awe with which 
 it is impossible not to contemplate a mission pregnant with such 
 consequences , is for ever relieved by those alternate flashes of hu- 
 mour and sentiment with which only a temperament so national 
 could have enlivened or softened such details. The whole story, too, 
 is full of ominous warning to Great Britain, as showing how fearfully 
 dependent upon winds and waves may, even yet , be her physical hold 
 upon Ireland, unless timely secured by those moral ties which good 
 government can alone establish between a people and their rulers. 
 
 In consequence of Tone's representations of the state of feeling 
 in Ireland , confirmed and enforced by more recent intelligence , it 
 was , in the spring of the present year, intimated to the persons then 
 directing the Irish Union ', that the French government were dis- 
 posed to assist them , by an invasion of Ireland , in their plan of 
 casting off the English yoke and establishing a Republic. Having 
 taken thisproposal seriously into consideration, the Irish Executive 
 returned for answer that " they accepted the offer, on condition that 
 the French would come as allies only, and consent to act under the 
 direction of the new government, as Rochambeau did in America ; 
 that , upon the same principle, the expenses of the expedition must 
 be reimbursed, and the troops, while acting in Ireland, receive Irish 
 pay ."This answer was despatched to Paris by a special messenger, 
 who returned with the Directory's full assent to the terms, and a 
 promise that the proffered succours should be sent without delay. 
 
 After tracing , as I have done briefly, some tew pages back , the 
 progress of Ireland's struggles for emancipation and Reform, 
 down to the period when all moderation was evidently cast off by 
 both parties, and a course of warfare commenced between the 
 State and the people , it was my intention , as I have there stated, 
 not to enter into any of those further measures of the government 
 which were , in fact , but a continuation of the same system of coer- 
 cion they had begun , only increasing , with each new turn of the 
 screw, the intensity of the pressure. A Bill, however, brought in 
 this session , the memorable Insurrection Act , must, from the 
 part Lord Edward took in its discussion , receive a passing notice. 
 
 1 The new system of organization had not , as yet , been carried into complete 
 efiect any where but in Ulster, the Executive Committee of which province, hold 
 ing its sittings at Belfast, managed at this time the interests of the whole Union.
 
 UC MEMOIRS 1796- 
 
 In opposing (Feb. 2d) one of Ihe Resolulions on which the Bill 
 wjis to be founded , his lordship declared it to be his opinion , that 
 " nothing would tranquillize the country but the sincere endeavour 
 of the government to redress the grievances of the people. If that 
 was done, the people would return to their allegiance ^ if not, he 
 Icaiod that neither Resolutions nor Bills would be of any avail ' ." 
 
 In order to settle all the details of their late agreement with France, 
 and, in fact , enter into a formal treaty with the French Directory, 
 it was thought of importance, by the United Irishmen, to send 
 some agent , whose station and character should , in the eyes of 
 their new allies , lend weight to his mission ; and to Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald, the no less delicate than daring task was assigned. It 
 being thought desirable, too, that he should have the aid, in his 
 negotiations , of the brilliant talents and popular name of Mr. Arthur 
 O'Connor, they requested likewise the services of that gentleman, 
 who consented readily to act in concert with his friend. 
 
 About the latter end of May, accompanied only by his lady, who 
 was then not far from the period of her confinement , Lord Edward 
 set out from Dublin on his perilous embassy, passing a day or two 
 in London , on his way, and , as I have been informed by a gentle- 
 man who w as of the parly , dining , on one of those days, at the 
 house of Lord ****, where the company consisted of Mr. Fox, 
 Mr. Sheridan , and several other distinguished Whigs, - all persons 
 who had been known to concur warmly in every step of the popular 
 cause in Ireland , and to whom , if "Lord Edward did not give some 
 intimation of the object of his present journey, such an effort of 
 reserve and secrecy was, I must say, very unusual in his character. 
 From London his lordship proceeded to Hamburgh, and had already 
 
 1 The langnage of others (who hovveveiy Inckily for themselves, went no 
 farther than langnage who "spoke daggers, but used none") was yet more 
 strong. Mr. Ponsouby declared that the Insurrection Bill , if continued, would be 
 the grave of the Constitution. Sir Lawrence Parsons , in speaking of the clause 
 against persons selling seditions papers, said, " that if the most arbitrary spirits 
 through the whole kingdom had been brought together, with the most studious 
 selection , to compose an arbitrary law against the liberty of the press, tbey could 
 scarcely have devised any thing more destructive than this : and yet this was but 
 a subordinate part of the present Bill." Mr. Duqnerry, at a later period of the 
 year, accused the ministers of " goading the people into resistance;" and Mr. 
 Grattan, in adverting to an assertion of Mr. Secretary Pelham, "that the exclusion 
 of Catholics from the parliament and the state was necessary for the crown and 
 the connexion ," said, "Eternal and indefeasible proscription! denounced by a 
 
 minister of the crown against three-fourths of his Majesty's subjects 
 
 But, the member uiay rely on it, the Catholic, the Irish will not long submit to 
 such an interdict; they will not suffer a stranger to tell us on what proud terms 
 English government will consent to rule in Ireland, still less to pronounce and 
 dictate the incapacity of the natives as the terms of her dominion, and the base 
 condition of our connexion and allegiance. "
 
 1796. Ol LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 117 
 
 begun lo treat with Rheynhart, the French agent at that place, when 
 he was joined there by Mr. O'Connor. Seeing reason , however , to 
 have some doubts of the trust-worthiness of this person , they dis- 
 continued their negotiation with him, and, leaving Lady Edward at 
 Hamburgh, proceeded together to Basle, where, through the medium 
 of the agent Barthclomeu, they opened their negocialion with the 
 French Directory. 
 
 It was now known that General lloche, the late conqueror and 
 pacificator of la Vendee , was the officer appointed to take the com- 
 mand of the expedition to Ireland , and the great advantage of hold- 
 ing personal communication , on the subject, with an individual on 
 whom the destinies of their country so much depended, was fully 
 appreciated by both friends. After a month's stay at Basle, however, 
 it was signified to them thai to Mr. O'Connor alone would it be per- 
 mitted lo meet Hoche as a negotiator, the French Government hav- 
 ing objected to receive Lord Edward, "lest the idea should gel 
 abroad , from his being married to Pamela , thai his mission had 
 some reference to the Orleans family." Independently of this curious 
 objection , it appears to have been strongly impressed upon Lord 
 Edward by some of his warmest friends that he should , on no ac- 
 count , suffer his zeal in the cause lo induce him lo pass the borders 
 of the French territory. 
 
 Leaving to Mr. O'Connor, therefore, the management of their 
 Irealy with Hoche. whom the French Directory had invested with 
 full powers for the purpose. Lord Edward returned lo Hamburgh, 
 having unluckily, for a travelling companion, during the greater 
 parl of Ihe journey, a foreign lady who had been once Ihe mistress 
 of an old friend and official colleague of Mr. Pill , and who was still 
 in Ihe habil of corresponding with her former protcclor. Wholly 
 ignorant of these circumstances, Lord Edward, with the habitual 
 frankness of his nature , not only expressed freely his opinions on 
 all political subjects , but afforded some clues , il is said, lo Ihe sc- 
 crel of his present journey, which his fellow-traveller was, of course, 
 not slow in transmitting to her official friend. 
 
 After his interview with Mr. O'Connor, Hoche hastened, with all 
 privacy, to Paris, lo inform the Directory of the resull ; and Ihe zeal 
 with which his own ambilious spirit had already laken up the cause 
 being still more quickened by the representations of the stale <!" 
 Ireland he had just received, an increased earnestness and activity 
 were soon visible in every branch of the preparations for Ihe ex- 
 pedition. It was at this time that the indefatigable Tone first saw the 
 destined leader of that enterprise which had, for solongalimc, been 
 the subject of all his thoughts and dream*, thai Avatar lo which 
 he had so lnc looked for lite liberation of hi* Country, and whi l<
 
 118 MEMOIRS 1796. 
 
 was now, as he thought, to be accomplished in the person of this 
 Chief. The conversations that passed between them are detailed in 
 Tone's Diary ; and it is not unamusing to observe how diplomati- 
 cally the young general managed to draw from Tone all that he 
 knew or thought, concerning Lord Edward and Mr. O'Connor, 
 without, in the least degree, betraying his own recent negociation 
 with them. " Hoche then asked me (says Tone), 'did I know Arthur 
 O'Connor?' I replied, 'I did, and that I entertained the highest 
 opinion of his talents, principles, and patriotism.' He asked me, 
 ' Did he not some time ago make an explosion in the Irish Parlia- 
 ment?' I replied, ' He made the ablest and honestesl speech, to my 
 mind, that ever was made in that House.' ' Well,' said he, ' will he 
 join us? ' I answered, ' I hoped , as he \\asfoncicrementlrlandais, 
 that he undoubtedly would.' Hoche then went on to say, ' There is a 
 Lord in your country (I was a little surprised at this beginning , 
 knowing, as I do, what stuff our Irish peers are made of) he is son 
 to a Duke ; is he not a patriot ? ' I immediately recognized my 
 friend Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and gave Hoche a very good ac- 
 count of him." 
 
 Hoche had pledged himself that in the course of the autumn , the 
 expedition should sail ; and , as far as the military part of the prepa- 
 rations was concerned , it appears that in the month of September 
 all was ready. But, from various delays and difficulties, interposed 
 chiefly by the Department of the Marine , it was not till the 15th of 
 December that this noble armament sailed from Brest, consisting of 
 17 sail of the line , 13 frigates , and an equal number of transports, 
 making in all 43 sail , and having onboard an army of near 15,000 
 men. 
 
 It was the opinion of Napoleon , as recorded somewhere in his 
 Conversations, that, had Hoche landed with this fine army in Ire- 
 land , he would have been successful : and , taking into account the 
 utterly defenceless slate of that country at the moment , as well as 
 the certainty that an immense proportion of the population would 
 have declared for the invaders, it is not too much to assert that such 
 would , in all probability, have been the result. For six days, during 
 which the shattered remains of their fleet lay tossing within sight 
 of the Irish shore, not a single British ship of war made its appear- 
 ance 5 and it was also asserted , without being met by any contradic- 
 tion, in the House of Commons, that such was the unprotected 
 state of the South, at that moment, that, had but 5000 men been 
 landed at Banlry ', Cork must have fallen. 
 
 ' There were, after this event, batteries erected at Bautry ; but, owing to the 
 {teat extent of the bay, it appears that no batteries , without the aid of a consider- 
 able force, could prevent a landing at this point. It was the opinion of Sir Ralph
 
 i; 9 6. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 11!) 
 
 But while , in all that depended upon the foresight and watch- 
 fulness of their enemy, free course was left to the invaders, bothb\ 
 sea and land, in every other point of view such a concurrence of 
 adverse accidents , such a combination of all that is most thwarlinu 
 in fortune and in the elements, no expedition , since the Armada, 
 had ever been doomed to encounter. Not to mention the various 
 difficulties that for near a month delayed their embarkation , during 
 the whole of which time the w ind blew direct for Ireland , on the 
 very first night of their departure a seventy-four of the squadron 
 struck upon the rocks and was lost ; and , at the same time , the 
 frigate , La Fraternite , on board which , by an inexplicably absurd 
 arrangement, were both the General in Chief of the Army and the 
 Admiral , was separated from the rest of the squadron , and saw no 
 more of them till their return to Brest. To the inauspiciousness of 
 this commencement, every succeeding day added some new diffi- 
 culty, till , at length, after having been no less than four times dis- 
 persed fay fogs and foul weather, the remains of the armament found 
 themselves off Bantry Bay, the object of their destination , reduced 
 trom 43 sail to 16, and with but 6,500 fighting men on board. 
 
 Even then had some more daring spirit presided over their move- 
 ments ', a landing with the force that remained would have been 
 hazarded , and , considering the unguarded state of the country, at 
 the moment, with every chance of success. Fortunately, however, 
 for the rulers of Ireland , General Grouchy, who had succeeded 
 Hoche in the command , hesitated at such a responsibility 2 , and , 
 after a day or two lost in idly cruising off the Bay, such a tremen- 
 dous gale set in , right from shore, as rendered a landing impracti- 
 
 Abercroinbie that the Shannon and Galway were the most assailable parts of the 
 i.shmd ; and the same opinion , as regards Galway, had been before advanced in a 
 carious pamphlet "On the Defence of Ireland" (by Colonel Keating, I believe), 
 published in 1795. "Of the many parts," says this writer, " of the island where 
 landing in great force is possible, Galway is the most practicable, because the 
 navigation is most favourable, as also that the enemy conld keep us longer in 
 suspense as to his real point of attack; besides the peculiar advantages that bay 
 offers, the excellent posts hs shores afford, and the peculiar facility with which 
 an advance into, and conquest of, first the province of Connaoght , and subse- 
 quently of the whole kingdom , might be effected." 
 
 Dr. MacNeveu , in his Memoir laid before the French Directory, recommended 
 Oyster Haven , as the best place of debarkation in the South, and Lough Swllly 
 in the North. 
 
 1 "Si dn moins la presence d'esprit des commandans secondaires pouvait sup- 
 pleer a Tabsence du chef. Mais non; eloignes de Hoche, ils semblerit avoir perdu 
 toutes leurs facultes." Vie de Lazare Hoche. 
 
 2 At this anxious moment, Tone, who was on board, writes in his Diary, 
 At half after one, the Atalante , one of our missing corvettes, hove in sight , so 
 now again we are in hopes to see the General. Oh , if he were in Grouchy's place, 
 he would not hesitate one moment."
 
 ISO MEMOIRS 1796. 
 
 cable, and again scattered them over the waters. Nothing was left, 
 therefore , but to return , how they could , to France ; and , of all 
 this formidable armament , but four ships of the line , two frigates 
 and one lugger, arrived together at Brest 5 while Hoc he himself, 
 who , in setting out , had counted so confidently on the success of the 
 expedition, mat one of his last acts had been lo urge on the Directory 
 the speedy outfit of a second ' , found himself obliged , after an 
 equally fruitless visit to Bantry Bay, to make his way back to 
 France , not having seen a single sail of his scattered fleet the whole 
 lime, and being at last indebted to a small chaloupc for putting 
 him on shore, in the middle of the night, about a league from La 
 Rochelle. 
 
 This narrow escape , not alone of invasion, but, perhaps, actual 
 conquest , for which Ireland was now indebted lo chance and the 
 elements, would, if read aright, have proved a warning, as useful 
 as it was awful , to each of the two parlies on whose heads resled 
 the responsibility of having drawn down on their country so fearful 
 a visilalion. That confidence in the inviolability of their shores 
 which the people of the Brilish isles had , under the guardianship 
 of their navy, been so long accustomed to indulge , was now startled 
 from its security by the incontestable facl, that , with two British 
 fleets in the Channel , and an Admiral stationed at Cork , the coasts 
 of Ireland had been , a whole fortnight , at the mercy of the enemy. 
 Wilh such a proof before their eyes of the formidable facility with 
 which Ihe avenger could appear at the call of the wronged, it was, 
 even yet , not too late for the government to pause in the harsh 
 system which they had adopted , to try whether concession mighl 
 not make friends of those whom force could hardly keep subjects , 
 and thus disarm of his worst terrors the enemy, from without , by 
 depriving him of his alliance with the malcontent within. 
 
 On the other hand , that large portion of the nation , so long at 
 issue with Iheir rulers , whose impatience under insults and wrongs , 
 some of them of the date of centuries , had thus driven them to 
 seek the arbitrement of a foreign sword , could not but see , in the 
 very shape which this interposition had assumed , enough to alarm 
 them as to the possible consequences of the alternative they had 
 chosen. Instead of the limited force which they had asked a limita- 
 tion which Lord Edward, among others, would have made the 
 condition of their accepting any aid whatever, they saw a powerful 
 armament sent forth , under one of the Republic's most aspiring 
 
 ' " Sa derniere pensee , en quiltant la terre , csl tonte remplie deja da desir de la 
 secoude expedition, tant il cst sur du succcs de Ja premiere. Sa derniere parole 
 au Directoiie est pour recommander a sa sollicitude le second depart." Fie de 
 Hochf.
 
 i ;9 6. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 121 
 
 generals , one equal lo Napol6on himself in ambition and daring, 
 and second only to him in the endowments that ensure to these 
 qualities success-, nor could those among them , who sought singly 
 and sincerely the independence of their country, refrain from har- 
 bouring some fear, that auxiliaries thus presenting themselves came 
 not so much to befriend a part of the population , as to make a con- 
 quest of the whole. 
 
 Such were the considerations and warnings which must now have 
 occurred to the minds of thinking men of both parlies , and which 
 ought to have disposed them earnestly to avail themselves of whatever 
 sense of their common danger had been awakened , lo bring about 
 such a compromise of their differences as should benefit alike both 
 the governing and Ihe governed , and by making the people more 
 free render the throne more secure. And it is to the honour of those 
 whose cause, however mixed up with a " worser spirit ," was slill 
 essentially the great cause of freedom and tolerance ', and had on 
 its side the inextinguishable claims of right against wrong , that by 
 them alone were any steps , at this junclure , taken towards such a 
 reconcilement of the State and the People lo each other. After the 
 failure of the expedition , the chief leaders of the United Irishmen , 
 acting , no doubt , upon such views of the crisis as I have above 
 supposed, held a communication with the principal members of 
 Opposition in Parliament, and professed their readiness to co- 
 operate in affording the government one more chance of reclaiming, 
 even yet , the allegiance of the People , by consenting lo even so 
 modified a measure of Reform as their legitimate representatives in 
 Parliament might think it prudent to propose. 
 
 A Bill to this effect was , in consequence , prepared by Mr. Pon- 
 sonby % and we have it on the authority of the rebel leaders en- 
 gaged in the transaction, that " if, in the course of that effort for 
 
 1 In conversing, once, with Mr. Flood on the subject of the civil war between 
 Charles I. ;iml his people, Lord Chatham said, "There was mixed with the pnblic 
 cause, iu that struggle, ambition, sedition, and violence; but no man will per- 
 suade me that it was not the cause of liberty on one side and of tyranny on the 
 other." The same may be said , with no less truth , of the straggle in Ireland at this 
 period. 
 
 ' The leading features of this plan of Reform are contained in the following 
 Resolution : 
 
 "That it is indispensably necessary to a fundamental Reform of the Represen- 
 tation that all disabilities, on account of religion, be for ever abolished, and that 
 Catholics shall be admitted into the legislature, and all the great offices of state , 
 in the same extent , etc. as Protestants now are. 
 
 "That it is the indispensable right of the people of Ireland to be fnlly and 
 fairly represented in Parliament. 
 
 "That, in order that the people may be fully enabled to exercise that right, 
 the privilege of returning members for cities, boroughs, eti . in the pie&ent form.
 
 122 MEMOIRS 1796. 
 
 Reform , it had not become evident that success was hopeless , it 
 was the wish of many among them , and they believed the Executive 
 would have gladly embraced the opportunity, to decline holding 
 any further intercourse w ilh France , except sending a messenger 
 there to tell them that the difference between the government and 
 the people had been adjusted , and that they would have no business 
 a second time to attempt a landing ' ." 
 
 I have dwelt thus long on the circumstances connected with this 
 first attempt at invasion , both on account of the share taken by Lord 
 Edward in the negotiations w hich led to it , and because the hope 
 of a reconciliation that then so fleetingly presented itself afforded a 
 brief resting-place whereon we might pause and contemplate the 
 relative positions of the two parties engaged in the struggle. It was 
 soon seen that all hopes of a change of policy in the government , 
 except from bad to worse , were utterly fallacious. Whether con- 
 ciliatory measures might yet have averted the conflict must be a 
 question of mere conjecture ; but that the reverse system drove 
 the country into rebellion , and nearly severed it from England, has 
 become matter of history. In the train of the Insurrection Act and 
 -the Indemnity Bill , soon followed , as the natural course of such 
 legislation , the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act , inquisitorial 
 tribunals under the name of Secret Committees , and, lastly, Martial 
 Law, with all its frightful accompaniments of free quarters, burnings, 
 picketings to extort confession , and every other such infliction. 
 
 To talk of Reform to a government launched in such a career 
 seemed little less than mockery. But , as a last assertion of principles 
 which , had they been acted upon , would have saved all this ruin , 
 the Opposition party in Parliament thought it due to themselves to 
 bring forward their measure a . Once more was the wise eloquence 
 
 shall cease; that each county be divided into districts, consisting of GOOO houses 
 each, each district to return two members to Parliament. 
 
 "That all persons possessing freehold property to the araonnt of forty pounds 
 per annum ; all possessed of leasehold interests of the value of ; 
 
 ill possessed of a house of the value of ; all who have resided 
 
 for a certain number of years in any great city or town , following a trade ; and 
 all who shall be free of any city, etc. by birth, marriage , or servitude , shall vote 
 for members of Parliament. 
 
 " That seals in Parliament shall endnre for number of 
 
 years." 
 
 [The blanks left to be filled np at the discretion of the Honse. ] 
 
 1 Memoir delivered to the Irish Government by Messrs. Emmet, O'Connor, 
 and Mac Neven. 
 
 1 That the Present is seldom more than a mere echo of the Past is a remark of 
 which the following passage from Mr. Grattan's Answer to a Pamphlet of Lord 
 Clare , affords strong illustration. The same objections to Reform , and the same 
 to them, are as rife and ready in 1831 as in 1797. "It was objected,
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 123 
 
 of Grallan heard above the storm , but as unavailingly as folly 
 itself, in its hour of triumph , could desire. lu First subdue and then 
 reform " was the sole answ er he received from those , who , he well 
 knew , could only be Irusted for the former of these two processes. 
 After a firm and final protest against the whole system now pursued , 
 this illustrious man, followed by the small minority lhal yet remained, 
 withdrew , in disgust , from the House , leaving the government , 
 as now reprobate beyond all hope, to itself, and thus adding his own 
 and his party's despair to that of the nation. The effects of his secession 
 upon the minds of the people were rendered still more impressive 
 by the refusal of Mr. Grallan and Lord Henry Filzgerald to stand 
 candidates at the ensuing election ; and such language as the fol- 
 lowing , which occurs in one of Mr. Grattan's addresses on the 
 subject ', shows lhal, lo whatever degree he may have blamed some 
 of the acls of Ihose leagued against government , his every feeling 
 went thoroughly and unreservedly with their cause. "When the 
 counlry is put down , the press destroyed , and public meetings , for 
 the purpose of exercising the righl of petition , are threatened and 
 dispersed , I agree with you lhal a general elcclion is no more than 
 an opportunity to exercise , by permission of the army, the solitary 
 privilege of reluming a few representatives of the people to a House 
 occupied by the representatives of boroughs." 
 
 In the mean lime , while Ihese events were taking place , nego- 
 tiations had been again opened between the government of France 
 and the Chiefs of the United Irishmen ; and the latter, thinking it 
 expedient for the purpose of more regular communication , to have 
 a resident representative in Paris , despatched thither, in the spring 
 of this year, Mr. E. J. Lewines , with powers to act as their ac- 
 credited minister lo Ihe French Republic. This genlleman was also 
 inslrucled to negotiate , if possible , a loan of half a million , or 
 300,000/. , with either France or Spain. 
 
 first , that the plan did not give satisfaction , in that the most vehement partisan!* 
 of Parliamentary Keforiu had signified iheir disapprobation; secondly, that the 
 plan opened the way to another plan , or to the project of personal representation. 
 It became highly expedient, therefore, before any other plan was submitted to 
 the consideration of Parliament, to be able to assure that august body, that such 
 plan would give general satisfaction, and put an end to the project of personal 
 representation. The persons concerned in the forming that plan did accordingly 
 obtain from the North of Ireland , and , moreover, from the advocates of personal 
 representation , authority to declare in Parliament that , if the plan of 1797 should 
 pass, they would rest satisfied." 
 
 1 It was from this Address that Mr. Isaac Corry read some extracts in the 
 course of that violent speech which gave rise to the duel between him and Mr. 
 Grattau in 1800, arguing that taey "preached the doctrine of insurrection under 
 the name of libertv, and led to the rebellion that followed."
 
 124 MEMOIRS i?9 6 - 
 
 Somewhat later in the year an agent was , it appears , sent over 
 fay the French Directory to collect information respecting the slate 
 of Ireland; but being unable, for want of the necessary passports, 
 to proceed any further than London, he wrote to request that some 
 confidential member of the Union should be sent thither to meet 
 him, and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, as being most competent to give 
 intelligence respecting the military preparation of the country, was 
 the person despatched w ith that view. 
 
 So impatient were the people of the North , at this moment , to 
 rise, that it was with difficulty the Chiefs of the Union succeeded in 
 restraining them ; and it was only by assurances of a speedy aid 
 from France , such as should put success beyond peril, that the 
 United Irishmen of Ulster, amounting then to no less than 100,000 
 men, organised and regimented , could be prevented from rising. 
 To press , therefore , the despatch of the succours from France was 
 now the great object of the Irish Executive , and, in the month of 
 June, one of the most active of their body, Dr. MacNeven , set out 
 on a special mission to Paris for that purpose. He found the French 
 authorities , notwithstanding the delusive negotiations which, with 
 the professed object of peace, they were about to enter into with 
 England , fully disposed to second his most hostile views. It was. 
 however, by the Eatavian Republic that the honour had now been 
 claimed of taking the lead in an expedition for the invasion of 
 Ireland ; and a powerful armament had been accordingly collected 
 atlhe Texel, consisting of fifteen sail of the line, ten frigates, and 
 twenty-seven sail of transports, carrying a land force to the amount 
 of near fourteen thousand men. And here again we see the good 
 genius of England interposing to avert from her the deserved con- 
 sequences of her own Tory councils. Had this great armament been 
 in readiness but a few weeks sooner, when the mutinies of the 
 English flecls had left the sea open , and even a part of the very 
 squadron now watching off the Texel had deserted to the mutineers, 
 could the invader have taken advantage of that most critical 
 moment, wlten not only a rebel army would have received him on 
 the shores of Ireland, but a mutineer licet, most probably, joined 
 him in her waters, what a change might then have been wrought 
 in the destinies of the British Empire ! 
 
 Fortunately, however, for that empire the chances determined 
 otherwise. Having let pass the favourable moment which the diffi- 
 culties of England presented, the Dutch fleet was , from the begin- 
 ning of July, locked up by a long course of adverse winds in the 
 Texel ; lill, at length, the provisions laid in for the expedition lieini; 
 nearly exhausted, it was found necessary to disembark the, troops: 
 and the Dutch government having, by a rashness of resolve for which
 
 i 7 o/>. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. m 
 
 no intelligible motive has ever been assigned , ordered their admiral 
 to put to sea and engage the British fleet, that memorable action 
 ensued , off Camperdown , which terminated , as is well known , in 
 one of the most splendid victories that have ever adorned the annals 
 of Great Britain. 
 
 Meanwhile affairs in Ireland were hurrying to their crisis; 
 and events and scenes crowded past, in fearful succession, of 
 which, if personal feelings may be allowed to mingle themselves 
 with such a narrative, so vivid is my own recollection, I could not 
 trust myself to dwell upon them. Though then but a youth in 
 college, and so many years have since gone by, the impression of 
 horror and indignation which the acts of the government of that day 
 left upon my mind is, T confess , at this moment , far too freshly 
 alive to allow me the due calmness of an historian in speaking of 
 them. Not only had I myself, from early childhood, taken a pas- 
 sionate interest in that struggle which , however darkly it ended , 
 began under the bright auspices of a Grattan , but among those 
 young men whom , after my entrance into college, I looked up to 
 with most admiration and regard, the same enthusiasm of national 
 feeling prevailed. Some of them, loo, at the lime of terror and lorlure 
 I am now speaking of, were found 10 have implicate'd themselves 
 far* more deeply in Ihe popular league against power lhan I could 
 ever have suspected-, and these I was now doomed to see, in Iheir 
 several ways, viclims, victims of that very ardour of patriotism 
 which had been one of the sources of my affection for them, and in 
 which, Ihrough almost every slep bul the last, my sympathies had 
 gone along with them. 
 
 One, considerably my senior, and not in the university, who, 
 by his industry and tasle in collecting old Irish airs, and the true, 
 national expression with which he performed them on Ihe flute, 
 contributed to nurse in me a strong feeling for our country's music, 
 is now, if he be still alive, languishing in exile 1 . Another, whose 
 literary talents and mild, manly character gave every promise of a 
 bright, if not splendid career, was , under Ihe ban of a collegiate 
 sentence which incapacitated him from all the learned professions, 
 
 1 When, inconsequence of the compact cnteied into between government and 
 the chief leaders of the couspiracy, the State Prisoners, before proceeding into 
 exile, were allowed to see their friends, I paid a visit to this gentleman in the jail 
 of Kilinainham, where he had then lain immured for four or five months, hear- 
 ing of friend after friend being led out to death , and expecting every week his 
 own tarn to come. As painting was one of his tastes, I found that, to amuse his 
 solitude , he had made a large drawing with charcoal on the wall of his prison , 
 representing that fancied origin of the Irish Harp, which, some years after, I 
 adopted as the subject of-one of the Melodies: 
 " 'T was a Syren old," etc.
 
 126 MEMOIRS 1796. 
 
 driven to a line of employment the least congenial to his tastes, 
 where through the remainder of a short, amiable life, his fine talents 
 lay useless ; while a third, young Emmet, but escaped with the same 
 branding sentence, to be reserved for that most sad, but memorable, 
 doom to which despair, as well of himself as of his country, at last 
 drove him 1 . 
 
 Of this latter friend, notwithstanding his own dying entreaty that 
 the world would extend to him " the charity of its silence 5 ," I cannot 
 deny myself the gratification of adding a few words , conscious that, 
 at least, the spirit of his will not be violated in them. Were I to 
 number, indeed , the men , among all I have ever known , who 
 appeared to me to combine , in the greatest degree , pure moral 
 worth with intellectual power, I should, among the highest of the 
 few, place Robert Emmet. Wholly free from the follies and frailties 
 of youlh, though how capable he was of the most devoted passion 
 events afterwards proved, the pursuit of science, in which he 
 eminently distinguished himself, seemed, at this time, the only 
 object that at all divided his thoughts with that enthusiasm for Irish 
 freedom which , in him , was an hereditary as well as national 
 feeling, himself being the second martyr his father had given to 
 the cause. 
 
 Simple in all his habits , and with a repose of look and manner 
 indicating but little movement within , it was only when the spring 
 was touched that set his feelings and, through them, his intellect 
 in motion, that he, at all, rose above the level of ordinary men. 
 On no occasion was this more peculiarly striking than in those 
 displays of oratory with which both in the Debating , and the His- 
 torical , Society, he so often enchained the attention and sympathy 
 of his young audience. No two individuals, indeed, could be much 
 more unlike to each other than was the same youlh to himself, 
 before rising to speak, and after ;-~ the brow that had appeared 
 
 1 As , in England , by a natural and , at one time , no very calumnious mistake , 
 ibe term " rebel" is looked upon as synonymous with " Catholic," it may be as 
 well to mention tbat these three young men were (like most of the leading per- 
 sons of the conspiracy) Protestants. 
 
 2 The grave opens to receive me: all I ask of the world is the charity of its 
 silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for, as none who knows my motives, 
 dares justify them , so let none who is ignorant of them dare to asperse them. Let 
 my tomb remain nninscribed , till other times and other meu shall learn to do 
 justice to my memory." I quote these sentences from recollection, and the noble 
 speech of which they form a part , was delivered by him , before receiving sen- 
 tence , iu his most animated and energetic manner, after having stood through a 
 harassing trial of twelve hours' duration. 
 
 To the passage of this speech just quoted (and not, as is sometimes supposed, 
 to any thing connected with Lord Edward Fitzgerald), the Irish Melody beginning, 
 " Ob breathe not his name," was intended to allude.
 
 1796. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 127 
 
 inanimate and almost drooping at once elevating itself in all the 
 consciousness of power, and the whole countenance and figure of 
 the speaker assuming a change as of one suddenly inspired. 
 
 Of his oratory, it must be recollected, I speak from youthful im- 
 pressions ; but I have heard little since that appeared to me of a 
 loftier or (what is a far more rare quality in Irish eloquence) purer 
 character; and the effects it produced, as well from its own exciting 
 pow r er, as from the susceptibility with which his audience caught 
 up every allusion to passing events, was such as to attract at last 
 seriously the attention of the Fellows; and by their desire one of the 
 scholars , a man of advanced standing and reputation for oratory, 
 came to attend our debates expressly for the purpose of answering 
 Emmet, and endeavouring to neutralize the impressions of his fervid 
 eloquence. 
 
 Such, in heart and mind, was another of those devoted men, who 
 with gifts that would have made them the ornaments and supports 
 of a well-regulated community, were yet driven to live the lives of 
 conspirators and die the death of traitors, by a system of government 
 which it would be difficult even to think of with patience, did we not 
 gather a hope from the present aspect of the whole civilized world, 
 that such a system of bigotry and misrule can never exist again. 
 
 With Lord Edward I could have no opportunity of forming any 
 acquaintance, but remember (as if it had been but yesterday) having 
 once seen him, in the year 1797, in Grafton-street, when, on being 
 told who he was , as he passed , I ran anxiously after him, desirous 
 of another look at one whose name had , from my school-days, been 
 associated in my mind w ith all that was noble, patriotic and chival- 
 rous. Though I saw him but this once , his peculiar dress , the 
 elastic lightness of his step, his fresh, healthful complexion, and the 
 soft expression given to his eyes by their long dark eye-lashes, are 
 as present and familiar lo my memory as if I had intimately known 
 him. Little did I then think that, at an interval of four-and-thirly 
 years from thence, an interval equal to the whole span of his life at 
 that period. I should not only find myself the historian of his 
 mournful fale. but (what to many will appear matter rather of shame 
 than of boast) with feelings so little altered, either as to himself or 
 his cause. 
 
 Trusting that I shall meet with pardon from my reader, not so 
 much for the digressiveness of these last few pages, which can 
 hardly, perhaps , be said to have much wandered from the subject . 
 as for the more than due share of their contents that relate per- 
 sonally to myself. I shall now proceed with the narrative which I 
 had been thus tempted to interrupt. 
 
 Towards the close of 1797 the fervour of the insurrectionary spirit
 
 128 MEMOIRS 1797. 
 
 had , in the great scat of its strength , the North , visibly abated ; and 
 to the enforcement of martial law throughout Ulster, during the 
 summer, that parly, whose panacea for the ills of Ireland had been, 
 at all limes, and under all circumstances , the bayonet, were anxious 
 to attribute this change. But though the seizure , under General 
 Lake's Proclamation , of so large a quantity of arms , must have a 
 good deal weakened the means of the United Irish in that quarter, 
 it is also evident that there were still arms enough in their posses- 
 sion to give them confidence in their own strength, as their first 
 impulse was to rise and employ them against their despoilers. This 
 desire, indeed, seems to have sprung up, in the very wake of JMar- 
 Ual Law, throughout the whole province; and the objections and 
 obstacles raised by most of the Dublin leaders , from a conviction , 
 as they themselves stale , that , without French aid , such an attempt 
 would be unavailing , first caused that discordance of views between 
 the Ulster and Lcinster delegates , which continued from thenceforth 
 (o embarrass the counsels of the conspiracy, and, at last, contributed 
 to its failure. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dissent , however, of their Dublin brethren , 
 some of the more sanguine leaders of the North still persisted in 
 their endeavours to force a general rising, and Lowry, Tecling, 
 and others proceeded to Dublin to concert measures for that pur- 
 pose. A plan of insurrection , in drawing up which, it is said, 
 some Irish officers , who had been in the Austrian service , assisted , 
 had already been agreed upon ; and , what was far more import- 
 ant, some of the regiments then on duty in Dublin having received 
 intimation of the intended design, a deputation of sergeants from 
 the Clare , Kilkenny, and Kildare militias waited upon the Provin- 
 cial Committee of Dublin with an offer to seize , in the name of the 
 Union , the Royal Barrack and the Castle , without requiring the aid 
 or presence of a single citizen. 
 
 This proposal was immediately laid before the Executive ; and 
 Lord Edward most strenuously urged , as might be expected , their 
 acceptance of it. But , after a long and anxious discussion , their 
 decision was to decline the offer, as involving a risk which the pre- 
 sent stale of their preparations would not justify them , they thought, 
 in encountering. The whole design was , therefore , abandoned, and 
 its chief instigators , Messrs. Lowry, Teeling, andTennant, the 
 first a member of Ihe Executive Committee of Ulster, were forced 
 to fly to Hamburgh. 
 
 To popular ardour, when at ils height, the postponement of ac- 
 tion is a check seldom recovered from ; and it is the opinion of those 
 most conversant with the history of the conspiracy, that the Leinster 
 leaders, by their want of enterprise and decision at this moment , let
 
 I797 . OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 159 
 
 pass a crisis far more pregnant with chances of success than any ever 
 presented to them ' . The people of the North , who had been in- 
 duced to curb their first impulse by an assurance of*the speedy arrival 
 of the French, when they now saw weeks pass away, without any 
 appearance of the promised succours , began naturally to abate in 
 their zeal , and even to suspect they had been deceived. From having 
 been taught thus to look for aid to others , they lost confidence in 
 themselves ; and an interval of grace being, at the same time, pro- 
 claimed by the government , within which those w ho submitted and 
 gave up their arms were to receive full pardon , the good effects of 
 such rarely tried policy were manifested by the numbers that, in 
 all parts of the North , hastened to avail themselves of it. 
 
 To these causes of the abatement of fervour among the Northerns 
 must be added another, of a still deeper and more important kind , 
 which began to come into operation about Ihe middle of 1797, and, 
 from that time, continued not only to moderate their enthusiasm in 
 the conspiracy, but materially influenced the character of the rebellion 
 that followed-, and this was the growing apprehension , both upon 
 political and religious grounds, with which the more scrupulous 
 among the Presbyterian republicans regarded that alliance, which the 
 organization of the Catholic counties was now admitting into their 
 league. Already had there, for some lime, existed among the lower 
 orders of Catholics , associations known by the name of Defenders, 
 half political , half predatory, to which the Chiefs of the Union had 
 always looked as a sort of nursery for their own military force , 
 the hardy habits of these freebooters (for such they had now become), 
 
 and their familiarity with the use of arms, appearing to offer the kijid 
 
 
 
 1 That snrh was Tone's view of their conduct, as far as he could judge from 
 ihe reports of the fugitives who had joined him at the Texel, will appear from 
 the following passage in his Diary: "August, 1797. By what Lowry and 
 Tennant tell me , there seems toliave been a great want of spirit in the leaders in 
 Dublin. I suspected it very much from Lewine's account, though I saw he put 
 ihe best side out; but I am now sure of.it. However, I did not say so to them, 
 for the thin is past, and criticising it will do no good, but the reverse. The 
 people have been urgent more than once to begin, and at one time , eight hundred 
 of the garrison offered to give up the barracks of Dublin , if the leaders would 
 only give the signal; the militia were almost to a man gained over, and numbers 
 of these poor fellows have fallen victims inconsequence. It is hard to judge at this 
 distance , but it seems to me to have been an unpardonable weakness , if not down- 
 right cowardice, to let such an occasion slip. With eight hundred of the garrison 
 and the barracks to begin with, in an hour they would have had the whole ca- 
 pital, and , by seizing the persons of half a dozen individuals, paralysed the whole 
 Government , and , in my opinion , accomplished the whole revolution by a single 
 
 proclamation. But , as I said already, it is hard to judge at a distance 
 
 I am snrprised ?hat Emmet did not show more energy, because I know he is as 
 brave as Caesar of his person. It seems to me to have beeu such an occasion missed 
 as we can hardlv ever see return." 
 
 9
 
 130 MEMOIRS 1797. 
 
 of material out of which good example and discipline might succeed 
 in making soldiers. 
 
 In the North th*e United Irishmen and the Defenders, though con- 
 curring in fierce enmity to the state, had been kept wholly distinct 
 bodies , as well by the difference of their religious tenets , as by the 
 grounds, but too sufficient, which the latter had for considering all 
 Presbyterians as foes. In most other parts of Ireland, however, the 
 case was different. Wherever the bulk of the population were Ca- 
 tholics , the Defenders formed the chief portion of the United force ; 
 or, rather, in such places , the system of the Union degenerated 
 into Defenderism , assuming that character which a people , lawless 
 from having been themselves so long outlawed, might have been 
 expected to give it. Hence those outrages and crimes which , per- 
 petrated under the name of United Irishmen , brought disgrace upon 
 the cause, and alarmed more especially its presbyterian supporters, 
 who, not without reason , shrunk from the hazard of committing the 
 interests of the cause of civil and religious liberty to such hands. 
 Under this impression it was that the leading United Irishmen of the 
 Counties of Down and Antrim were anxious to inculcate the notion 
 that the Presbyterians could dispense with Catholic aid ; and so much 
 had the repugnance of the two. sects to act in concert manifested 
 itself, that at a meeting of Captains, on the 31st of July, at Down- 
 patrick , strong fears were, we find , expressed " that the Dissenters 
 and Catholics would become two separate parties." 
 
 But though this , and the other causes I have adverted to , had , 
 at the commencement of the year 1798, a good deal checked the 
 advance of the conspiracy in that region which had given it birth 
 anfl strength, there were still immense numbers organized and 
 armed throughout the North, who, under Protestant leaders, such 
 as were, at this time, the great majority of the United Chiefs , 
 would have felt too confident in their own power of giving a direc- 
 tion to the revolution to have any fears from the predominance of 
 their outnumbering allies. Whatever of physical strength, too. 
 might have been lost to the Union in Ulster had been more than 
 a hundred fold made up by the spread of the organization elsewhere; 
 and from the returns made , in the month of February this year, to 
 Lord Edward, as head of the Military Committee, it appeared that 
 the force at that time , regimented and armed , throughout Ireland , 
 amounted to little less than 300,000 men. 
 
 The object of the Military Committee , just mentioned , was to 
 prepare a plan of co-operation with the invader, or of insurrection , 
 if forced to it , before the invader came. The hope of succours front 
 France , though so frequently frustrated, was still kept siuiguinely 
 alive, and to the arrival of an armament in April they, at the begin-
 
 i 797 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. Ml 
 
 ning of this year, looked with confidence , the strongest assurances 
 having been given by M. Talleyrand to their agent at Paris, that 
 an expedition was in forwardness, and would be ready by that 
 time. 
 
 On the 28th of February Lord Edward's friend, Mr. Arthur 
 O Connor, was, together with Quigley, the Irish priest and others , 
 arrested , on their way to France , at Margate ; and a paper being 
 found on Quigley, addressed to the French Directory, inviting 
 earnestly a speedy invasion of England , the w hole party w ere , on 
 the 6lh of March , committed to the Tower, on a charge of High 
 Treason. In consequence of this arrest the office of the Press news- 
 paper, a journal which had been in the year 1797 established in 
 Dublin , for the express purpose of forwarding the views of the 
 Union ', and of which Mr. O'Connor had lately become the avowed 
 editor, was by order of the government searched , and all the ma- 
 terials and papers belonging to the establishment seized. "Among 
 the persons," says a ministerial newspaper of the day, "who was in 
 the house where the Press was printed, were found Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald and Counsellor Sampson. Lord Edward seemed peculiarly 
 affected by the visit of the magistrate , and interested himself much 
 to comfort the woman of the house , who had been brought by mis- 
 chievous delusions into embarrassment and trouble -, and offered her 
 and her family a residence in his own house, as some compen- 
 sation.' 1 
 
 It being now clear that with, or without, French aid the struggle 
 must soon come, Lord Edward and his colleagues urged on, with 
 redoubled zeal , the preparations for the encounter. A Revolutionary 
 Staff was formed, and an Adjutant-General appointed in each county 
 to transmit returns to the Executive of the strength and state of their 
 respective forces, to report the nature of the military positions in 
 their neighbourhood , to watch the movements of the King's troops , 
 and , in short , as their Instructions a (drawn up by Lord Edward 
 
 1 In this newspaper ihe anthor of the present Memoir confesses to have uiade 
 his first essay as a writer of prose, anil among those extracts from its columns 
 which are appended to the Report of the Secret Committee , for the purpose of 
 showing the excited state of public feeling at that period , there are some of which 
 the blame or the merit must rest with an author who had then bnt jnst Yarned 
 his seventeenth year. 
 
 1 One part of these Instructions ran thus: "Those in the maritime counties 
 are charged, ou the first appearance of a friendly force npon the coast, but espe 
 rially on the most certain information being had of the debarkation of- our allies , 
 to communicate the same, in the most sptedy manner, to the Execntive. They 
 must then immediately collect their force and march forward , with as many of 
 tht- yeomanry and militia as possible, each man to be provided with at least 
 three dn\>' subsistence, and to bring on all tbry can of carts, draft horses, hoists
 
 132 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 himself) direct, lo attend to every point connected with the species 
 of warfare they were about lo wage. 
 
 In this formidable train were affairs now proceeding , nor would 
 it be possible, perhaps, to find, in the whole compass of history, 
 taking into account the stake, the odcls, the peril, and the daring, 
 - another instance of a conspiracy assuming such an attitude. But 
 a blow was about to fall upon them for which they were little pre- 
 pared. Hazardous as had been the agency of the Chiefs, at every 
 step, and numerous as were the persons necessarily acquainted with 
 their proceedings, yet so well contrived for secrecy was the medium 
 through which they acted , and by such fidelity had they been 
 hitherto fenced round, that the government could not reach them. 
 How little sparing those in authority would have been of rewards , 
 their prodigality to their present informer proved. But few or none 
 had yet been tempted to betray ; and , in addition to the character- 
 istic fidelity of the Irish in such confederacies , the same hatred of 
 the law which had made them traitors to the Stale kept them true 
 lo each other. 
 
 It is , indeed, not the least singular feature of this singular piece 
 of history, that with a government, strongly intrenched both in 
 power and will , resolved to crush its opponents , and not scrupulous 
 as to the means , there should now have elapsed two whole years of 
 all but open rebellion, under their very eyes , without their being 
 able , either by force or money, to obtain sufficient information to 
 place a single one of the many chiefs of the confederacy in their 
 power. Even now, so far from their vigilance being instrumental in 
 the discovery, it was but to the mere accidental circumstance of a 
 worthless member of the conspiracy being pressed for a sum of 
 money to discharge some debts , that the governmenl was indebted 
 for the treachery that , at once , laid the whole plot at their feet , 
 delivered up to them , at one seizure , almost all its leaders , and 
 thus disorganizing , by rendering it headless , the entire body of 
 the Union, was the means, it is not too much to say, of saving 
 the country to Great Britain. 
 
 The n^.me of this informer, a name in one country, at least, 
 never to be forgotten , was Thomas Reynolds ; and the informa- 
 tion he gave that led lo the arrests at Bond's , on the 12th of March , 
 will be most clearly set before the reader in the following extracts 
 from his evidence : 
 
 "It was about the 25th of February, 1798, that, in travelling 
 with Mr. Cope to Castle-Jordan in order to obtain possession of some 
 
 harnessed and horses to mount cnvalry, with three or fonr days' forage; taking 
 care to seize nowhere the property of a patriot , where an enemy can he found to 
 raise contributions on."
 
 i 79 3. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 13J 
 
 lands lo which we were jointly entitled, I was induced by the per- 
 suasion of this gentleman , on whose friendship and honour I had 
 the most implicit reliance , to disclose to him , in part, the exlen! 
 of the conspiracy. I added that in order to enable government to 
 counteract it entirely, I would procure a man who could get lo the 
 bottom of it, and delect the leaders. In consequence of this I did, 
 in the name of a third person, communicale to Mr. Cope for go- 
 vernment all I knew of the plans and views of the United Irishmen , 
 and particularly the proceedings of the meeting at Bond's of the 
 1'Jlh of February, 1798 , which I had gol from Lord Edward Filz- 
 gerald, and the intended (Provincial) meeting of the 12lh of March, 
 also at Bond's, which meeting was in consequence apprehended. 
 
 "In order to procure more certain knowledge of the intended 
 Hireling of the 12th of March, I applied to Bond, at whose house 
 Daly had said it was lo be held 5 and Bond referred me to John 
 M'Cann as the man who was lo regulate that part of the business, 
 and to give any informalion that might be necessary about it. I 
 according!) applied lo M'Cann , who said, thai unless I brought 
 up the returns from the County Commillee of Kildare , I could not 
 be admitted lo the Provincial, neither could he give me any informa- 
 lion thereof, till I showed him said returns. On communicating 
 this lo Mr. Cope, he advised me lo go down lo my counly, which 
 1 accordingly did, on Ihc Salurday week before Ihe arrest of the 
 meeting at Bond's. On Ihe Sunday I went to Caslledermoll , where 
 for Ihe first lime I met my officers , and sellled returns of men and 
 arms, etc. , afler which I called upon Daly at Kilcullen , who I knew 
 was in possession of the returns, and who wrole a copy of Ihem and 
 gave il to me. On bringing this paper up to Dublin, I showed il to 
 M-Cann , and asked him Ihe lime of Ihe meeling of the Provincial ; 
 \\hen lie said lhal il was very odd Ihere was nol any increase in Ihe 
 returns since the last meeting, and thai Ihe delegates musl be in town 
 on the Sunday evening. M'Cann then promised lhal he would break- 
 fasl vsith me on Sunday, lllh March, 1798, al my house, No. 4, 
 Cumberland-slreel , and tell me all particulars as lo the lime and 
 place of Ihe Provincial Meeling. Accordingly, M'Cann did come on 
 the nexl morning, Sunday, lo hreakfasl; bul no particular conver- 
 sation then look place, as Mrs. Reynolds was present. 
 
 " After breakfast , M'Cann and I walked to Ihe boltom of Church- 
 slreel , when he lold me lhal , at ten o'clock on Monday morning , 1 
 musl be at Oliver Bond's , and desired me to be punctual , as parti- 
 cular business would be done. Not wishing to be at the meeling , as 
 I knew il was lo be arrested, I wrote a note to Bond, which I sent 
 on Monday morning, slating lhat Mrs. Reynolds was taken ver> 
 ill ; lhal I could not consequently bring my money at the hour
 
 134 MEMOIRS 179*. 
 
 appointed , and begged him to make an apology for me to M'Cann 
 on that account." 
 
 The above information being laid by Mr. Cope before govern- 
 ment , a warrant from the Secretary of State's office was placed in 
 the hands of Mr. Swan , a Magistrate for the County of Dublin , who , 
 on the morning of Monday, 12th of March , repaired to Mr. Oliver 
 Bond's house , attended by thirteen sergeants in coloured clothes , 
 and by means of the pass-word, "Where 's M'Cann? Is Ivers 
 from Carlow come?" obtained ready admission to the meeting, 
 and arrested all the persons there assembled ' . Among the chief 
 leaders mentioned in the warrant, there were, besides Oliver Bond 
 himself, who was one of the most respectable and opulent merchants 
 in all Ireland , Dr. M'Neven , Emmet , and Sampson , both bar- 
 risters of eminence , and Lord Edward Fitzgerald. Of the four last- 
 named , none happened to be present at the meeting , but separate 
 warrants being instantly issued against them, M'Neven, Emmet, 
 and Sampson, were at no very long intervals after apprehended % 
 and Lord Edward alone contrived to elude pursuit. 
 
 It has been my good fortune to have intrusted to me , with liberty 
 to make extracts from it , a short Journal which was , about this 
 time, begun by Lady Sarah Napier 3 for the kind purpose of pre- 
 serving , during a severe illness of her husband, such particulars of 
 the events then passing as it would most interest him , when con- 
 valescent, to know. The minute domestic details connected with her 
 noble relative's fate, which she has here so simply, but with so 
 much feeling and strength of character, recorded , are such as could 
 have been in no other way accessible , nor in any other shape half 
 so interestingly conveyed. 
 
 " Monday, March 5th. 
 
 " News came from London this week that four or five men were 
 taken up at Margate , trying to escape Jo France with some plot ; 
 for that , having come to Dover, they put their baggage on a cart , 
 and followed it themselves on foot towards Margate offered im- 
 mense sums seemed to know the way that many odd things 
 
 1 Among the papers found at Bond's , consisting chiefly of Returns from the 
 Officers of the Union, there was a list of toasts and sentiments, of which the 
 following is a significant specimen: "Mother Erin, dressed in green ribands by 
 a French milliner, if she can't be dressed without her." 
 
 1 Counsellor Sampson , however, having fled to England, was seized at Carlisle, 
 and there committed to prison; nor was it, if I recollect right , till the beginning 
 of May, that he was brought back in custody to Dublin. 
 
 3 Aunt to Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and mother of the distinguished historian 
 of the Peninsular War, to whose kindness I ain indebted for the use of sopreciou> 
 a document.
 
 .-g8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 13 i 
 
 caused suspicion, and they were apprehended. One of them said he 
 was Arthur O'Connor, and going abroad with the other gentleman : 
 lhat on the cart was found boxes with papers expressive of their 
 being a sort of ambassadors , from the U. I. M. ' to the Directory at 
 Paris , to give assurances of the good reception the French would 
 meet w ith in Ireland , and to press their immediate coming. The 
 gentlemen denied the baggage was theirs. They were curried to the 
 privy council, and put into the Tower. 
 
 "This is all the substance I have gleaned from the liltle I have 
 heard ; and , on the other hand , it is since said thai all these suspi- 
 cious circumstances are a fabrication , and that nothing can be found 
 against O'Connor of any sort. Yet Mr. Ogilvie w riles me word , il 
 is generally believed , he >\ ill be hanged ; but many at firsl said he 
 would gel off. I will try lo be more mistress of the subject against 
 you read this, which I have carefully kept from your hearing as 
 long as I thought it dangerous lo give your Ihoughls such serious 
 grounds for working them on , which in your weak state is hurtful 
 and retards recovery. I have since heard from Mr. Henry that 
 Edward never was troubled about O'Connor, and said that he had 
 nothing odd with him but 1200 guineas. * * * 
 
 He is to be tried at the Kent Assizes. 
 
 " March, 1798. 
 
 " It was fortunate I kept O'Connor's business from you , as it at 
 first appeared linked w ilh one much more interesling to us all ; but 
 / believe I may say w ith truth , that it was the artful management 
 of government so lo dispose me scenery, lhal the most knowing ones 
 were taken in at first; but that it is certain that an event which took 
 place here is in no way whatever the consequence of this English 
 business, but a mere repetition of Russell and Nelson's business, 
 and will end the same way, to the disgrace of government. However, 
 here is the story : 
 
 ("Mr. Pelham was dying, and therefore, poor man, is free 
 from this business. Lord Castlereagh was sent for express from 
 Dundalk , to do Mr. Pelham's business.) 
 
 " Mails came from London, and a Council called , and then de- 
 termined to take up many U. I. M. ; for, early on Monday, 12th , 
 messengers were sent to Oliver Bond's house , to take up all then 
 silting at a Committee -, when they entered the house, the table was 
 full of papers : a serjeant said , ' if you don't all hold up your hands, 
 1 will shoot you. The papers seized were of the utmost importance, 
 and carried to council. Counsellor Emmett, Oliver Bond, Jackson 
 
 1 Uiiiled Irishmen.
 
 13G MEMOIRS t 79 8. 
 
 the ironmonger, Sweetman the brewer, and others were taken. 
 Counsellor Sampson made his escape ; Dr. M'Neven was taken in 
 his own house ; and report made a thousand stories of where Edward 
 was. Some said at the Committee , others at Dr. M' Sevens; that 
 the sheriff seeing him, said to the messengers, ' Is not Lord Edward 
 in your warrant? 1 ' No ; ' upon which Edward walked in the streets; 
 and then heard a separate warrant was out for him, on which he 
 disappeared , and has never been heard of since. 
 
 " The separate warrant went by a messenger, attended by Sheriff 
 Carlton , and a party of soldiers , commanded by a Major O'Kelly , 
 into Leinster-house. The servants ran up to Lady Edward , who 
 was ill with the gathering in her breast, and told her; she said di- 
 rectly ' there is no help, send them up : ' they asked very civilly 
 for her papers and Edward's, and she gave them all. Her apparent 
 distress moved Major O'Kelly to tears; and their whole conduct was 
 proper. They left her, and soon returned (Major Boyle having been 
 with two dragoons to Frescati , and taken such papers as were in 
 their sitting-room , and not found Edward) lo search Leinster-house 
 for him, and came up with great good-nature to say, 'Madam, we 
 wish lo tell you our search is in vain , Lord Edward has escaped.' 
 Dr. Lindsay returning from hence went to Leinster-house to her, 
 and there found her in the greatest agitation , the humour quite 
 gone back , and he was a good deal alarmed for her ; but , by care , 
 she is , thank God , recovered. 
 
 " Mrs. Pakenham wrote t/iat night to my sister a letter I hope you 
 will see , for it was trying to make the matter as light as she could 
 lo my poor sister, yel forced to say what, of course , she heard 
 from Mr. P. and Lord Casllereagh. 
 
 " Tuesday, ioth. 
 
 "My sister brought me the letter in the greatest despair. I was 
 shocked at the event, but by no means alarmed at the description , 
 and told her I was sure Edward ran off to avoid a prison only, and 
 that it would all prove a second edition of Nelson's, etc. I said this, 
 yet my mind sunk within me , at the idea of its being from O'Con- 
 nor's business. 
 
 "Wednesday, i4th. 
 
 " My sister went off early lo town with Emmy lo breakfast at 
 Mrs. P.'s, appointing C. Filzgerald lo meel her, and wishing lo 
 hear from him whal he had done relative to my sister and the duke; 
 but instead of Charles she found Lord Castlereagh , who lold her , 
 ' (hough the two brothers differ , yel nature is strong , and Lord 
 Charles was so overcome on Monday , hearing this event, that he 
 set off early on Tuesday for the country, to get out of the way.'
 
 i 79 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 137 
 
 "Louisa then asked questions. Lord C. said, * I fear I cannot 
 answer your questions , for you know I am bound to secrecy ; but 
 pray don't believe any reports you hear. for. upon my word , no- 
 thing has yet transpired. You may rely on the earnest wishes of 
 government to do all they can for Lord Edward , who is so much 
 loved, and as he can't be found, no harm can happen to him. I pity 
 Lady Edward most exceedingly, and will do all in my power to 
 send her back her private letters.' Mr. P. spoke as usual, of Edward, 
 fine flummery -, and said he only hoped in God he should not meet 
 him , as it would be a sad struggle between \\isduty and friendship. 
 Louisa took all this, as it was intended she should, but when she 
 was out of the room, Emily heard Sir G. S. express his hopes that 
 Lord Edward would be caught, and did not hear or see any 
 thing like a contradiction to this wish from any of the company. 
 
 M From thence Louisa went to Leinster-house , where poor little 
 Pamela's fair, meek, and pitiable account of it all moved her to 
 the greatest degree , and gained my sister's good opinion of her 
 sense and good conduct. My sister charged her not to name his 
 name , not lo give a soul a hint of where he was , if she knew 
 it, and to stay at Leinsler-house , seeing every body that called, and 
 keep strict silence, to which Pamela agreed. Louisa went back to 
 the set, and told them how meek and gentle Pamela was ; that she 
 did not suppose any of the government people would insult her, but 
 underlings might; that she would, as soon as her breast admitted 
 of it . see every body, who was so good as to call on her, lo show 
 she was not plotting mischief. They gave great praise to her sense 
 and good conduct ( though I hear, before this, Mr. P. had said her 
 sickness was a sham ), and my sister came home with Dr. Lindsay 
 quite satisfied that , in this miserable business , Lady Edward was 
 secure of his innocence and safety, and government all good-nature; 
 but still in such horrors about either his having invited the French, 
 or his being punished for it , that she cannot bring herself to name 
 the subject without agony. 
 
 " By this lime I had heard from ot/iers, that all Dublin was in 
 consternation on Monday morning ; that upon the papers being car- 
 ried lo council, Ihe Chancellor was sent for at the courts to attend 
 it ; that he dashed out in a hurry, and found a mob at the door, who 
 abused him, and he returned the abuse by cursing and swearing 
 like a madman. He met Lord Westmealh, and they went into a shop 
 and came out with pistols, and the Chancellor thus went on foot to 
 council. 
 
 " Thursday, i5th. 
 
 " I heard from Mr. Berwick that government had ordered no 
 mention of this transaction should appear in any paper. He lold
 
 138 MEMOIRS 1798, 
 
 me of the strange absurd reports of their having behaved so ill in 
 the searches , etc. , and I told him Lady Edward had written to thank 
 Major O'Kelly for his humane conduct. 
 
 " My sister had promised to go again , but did not. I heard daily 
 from Lady Edward , and found she had recovered her spirits in so 
 sudden a manner, that every body is convinced she knows where 
 he is , and that he is safe and innocent. I sent her 20Z. in case she 
 wanted ready money, but she returned it , and sent me word she 
 had plenty, for that they had some by them, and that she was 
 going to take a house to get out of Leinster-house , which was 
 grown detestable to her, and to have a quiet home of her own 
 to lie-in in. She bid me tell my sister Leinster to be quite , quite 
 easy. To write would be folly in her, and indeed in us, for all 
 letters are opened now ; so I only wrote to Mrs. Johnston , and made 
 a child direct it , desiring her to send for Mr. Ogilvie , and show it 
 him. We know nothing yet of how my poor sister will take it I fear 
 very badly. Government intended a proclamation to take Edward , 
 but thought belter of it. 
 
 " I was surprised by a visit from Captain M**. He began about 
 Edward : I said I was sure he was innocent , though he made no 
 secret of his opinions , but that nobody dreaded a Revolulion more , 
 from the goodness of his heart , and that he only ran off, I was sure , 
 from the dread of prison. ' But ', said M. . ' surely he knew the con- 
 sequence of silting at a Committee ? ' ' I believe he never was there/ 
 ' Oh ! I beg your pardon ,' said M. , ' he was seen there, as I un- 
 derstand.' ' I am sure ,' said I , ' you think your authority good , 
 very naturally, but / doubt every authority. 1 ' But surely, 1 said he , 
 ' they would not dare to take him up without sufficient grounds ? ' 
 ' If I had not seen it done twice here , I should think as you do , 
 but I know all their ways too well , and you will see that I am right. 
 We then talked of poor Doyle , of M* *'s own situation , who is aide- 
 de-camp to Lord Clanricarde , with whom he w as in Corsica , and 
 whom he likes of all things. He spoke with the greatest regard ol' 
 you, came down on purpose to inquire about you, and says he will 
 come whenever you are able to see him. He told me of a servant of 
 Mr. Lee's being killed by a soldier's bayonet the day before in the 
 streets , because some men, among whom was this servant, were 
 seducing soldiers , that Lord Ty rawly came among them , and tried 
 to send them away. This servant was impertinent to him : he drew 
 his pistols , and a soldier struck the man , who died on the spot. 
 
 ' Friday, i6th. 
 "Captain M** seemed to think ill of the U. I. Men , and laugh at
 
 1708. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. H!> 
 
 the farce of every body going armed with pistols, saying , ' he never 
 had been attacked , out at all hours of the night.' 
 
 " Saturday, 171!'. 
 
 11 St. Patrick's Day. All quiet! 
 
 " The same day came the surveyor that lived with Flaw , merely 
 to acknowledge his obligations to you ; he has been in the North 
 with Lord Downshire , and , being in Dublin , could not resist 
 his wish to see you. Mr. Swinburne came, as you know , merely 
 to inquire after you. I suspect he avoided seeing me on account 
 of Edward's business. 
 
 " Saturday, 24th. 
 
 - Captain Armstrong came for the third time, and you saw him. 
 From him I heard that the prisoners would come off well $ that 
 there was no Committee , only some of them assembled to con- 
 sider what was to be done about the Press. That the report of a 
 dreadful map , found in Lady Edward's care , was one of Dublin, 
 with notes written by a clever gunmaker, who had marked the weak 
 parts, and who had sent it to Lord Edward. That no sooner had 
 this man heard of the noise it made , than he went to government 
 and said it was his , which he had shown to Lord Edward. They 
 asked him for what purpose he had drawn it? 'For my amuse- 
 ment ,' said he. So that by Armstrong's account nothing would 
 come of all this business , and by Lady Edward's and others , I was 
 in hopes it would prove so. Reports say Edward was seen in a post- 
 chaise with his brother Charles at Newry, but it is false , I fancy ; 
 others that he is at Leinster-house , and at Carton, all false, I 
 believe. 
 
 "When Mrs. P. came on Tuesday, Mr. Conolly was setting off. 
 Louisa said she would go and fetch Lady Edward to Castletown , and 
 heforbid it. From Dundalk he wrote , ' There will not be the same 
 objections in June to her coming to Castletown.' We cannot guess 
 what that means. All Saturday we were in expectation of the Naas 
 prisoners ' return , and anxious to know their fate. 
 
 " Sunday, a5th. 
 
 " This morning , being in your room , my sister x came, and I 
 
 saw she looked disturbed. 
 
 ********** 
 
 I took no notice of her looks , but she gave me a letter from 
 Mr. Ogilvie, saying, my poor sister 2 was supported by her-con- 
 
 1 Lady Louisa Conolly. 
 
 3 The Duchess Dowager, Lord Edward's mother.
 
 140 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 fldence in Edward not deserving any thing by word or deed , but 
 that Sophia and Lucy were terribly affected. He also said that the 
 poor little duchess was given over by all who came from Bristol, 
 but that he, the duke, did not see it. This letter accounted to me 
 for her low looks. As she was going , she beckoned me out , and 
 said that she must tell me a secret , though she had reasons not to 
 reveal it; but since I had determined to sit up this night, it was 
 necessary to tell me not to be alarmed, if, early in the morning, 
 I should hear a bustle , for that an officer, she thinks a Mr. Long- 
 field, came from Naas, and asking for Mr. Conolly, seemed disap- 
 pointed. He then asked to speak to Colonel Napier, and hearing that 
 he was ill , asked if any gentleman was in the house , and at last 
 begged to speak to Louisa herself, who went down to him. He told 
 her that an order was given in General Wilson's district , including 
 this place , to search for arms , and disarm every body. She asked 
 if officers were included ; he said he believed not ultimately, but that 
 no exclusion was made in the order which he showed her signed by 
 General Hewitz , and it is very strict. He asked how many arms she 
 had : she guessed twenty. He said , ' Have you twenty servants to 
 use them? ' * Yes.' 'Then we won't trouble you. For it was the fear 
 of alarming you with a military that will be about to-morrow early 
 that brought me, and we won't come here , as it is only meant for 
 the disaffected, and others must go through the ceremony.' Louisa 
 said , ' Pray, sir, don't let your civility interfere with your duty 
 search the house , if you chuse it.' ' That must depend on the ma- 
 gistrates,' said he , ' for Sir Ralph Abercrombie's new Order hampers 
 us sadly now. I wish I knew who were disaffected can you tell 
 me?' ' No ,' said Louisa , ' I can tell you who are not , but I don't 
 know who are; but may I beg to know if you must go to Colonel 
 N. , for he is so ill , it may alarm him to hear a bustle.' ' Yes , I 
 suppose we must , but of course we shall give a receipt for the arms , 
 and he will know where to find them.' 
 
 "Thus did my dear sister so alter her nature , that she sub- 
 mitted to be disarmed , and leave her house a prey to vagabonds 
 and she was not glad the prisoners were released*. What per- 
 version in the noblest nature may be compassed by cunning, by 
 nerves , and by habits of hearing terror rung in her ears for years ! 
 I had neither lime nor thoughts to answer, argue , or try to convince 
 her. I thanked her for the notice, and rejoiced to be prepared , 
 and on reflection , I no\v determine to refuse to allow the search , 
 
 1 The Dn chess of Leinster. 
 
 1 This alludes to Lady Louisa having, the day before, checked some of hci 
 sister's children, who were expressing their joy at the liberation of the prisoners 
 tried at Nnas.
 
 1798- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 141 
 
 or to give up the arms. And I am well awake in the expectation of 
 these offenders, who want to leave us to Defenders. N. B. The 
 Naas prisoners all returned to Celbridge at six o'clock. 
 
 " In the interim I return to Mr. Henry's conversation in the 
 morning before my sister came. He told me that O'Connor would 
 be tried soon, and he understood nothing would be done to him, 
 though Mr. Ogilvie wrote me word he would be hanged. Henry also 
 says, entrenous, there was a Committee, and that government 
 say they knew of it a month ago ; that the delegates of each pro- 
 vince send t/ieir delegates to Dublin , and that Edward was to order 
 for Leinster how they were to proceed as is said. That he stayed 
 in Dublin some days , and foolishly was visited fay many, and at last 
 removed for fear of facing found out. That government made a fu- 
 rious noise for two days, but dropped it in a moment, and that he 
 believes they wish him to escape 5 but that he (Henry) fears Ed- 
 ward will be templed to draw the sword and throw away the scab- 
 bard, for that they (I don't know who Henry includes in they} all 
 say that if Edward is taken or touched, they won't bear it. 
 
 "Now what am I to think of all this? How far can I rely on 
 Henry's opinion? who does he take it from? He also told us. Lord 
 Ormond and Sparrow made themselves constables, searching for 
 Edward \\ilh two dragoons, the latter vowing he would bring him 
 dead or alive 5 but all this vapouring ceased soon. Henry also told 
 me government abused Sir Ralph Abercrombie , who was going 
 to resign , but that as the King and Dundas were fond of him , it 
 was expected to make a dust first. 
 
 " You asked me to-day if something was not the matter with me. 
 I think with such a|oad of interesting things on my mind, I fight 
 a good battle with myself, and keep very equal in my attendance 
 and manner to you. What will not affection do , when what we adore 
 may suffer from the least inadvertence? I made a little trial of your 
 wish about the arms , and your answer decided me , for I am your 
 representative in this instance. 
 
 "Among these things, I forgot to mention a trifling thing, com- 
 paratively speaking , but which agitated me a good deal. On Sunday, 
 4th, Farrell rode Sam to town for Lindsay, and going into Coyle's, 
 a soldier of the Fermanagh pushed the horse out of his way. Far- 
 rell was endeavouring to do the same , when another soldier, of the 
 same regiment, stuck his bayonet in the horse's flank , and wounded 
 him. Farrell called out; but instantly giving Ihe horse to Coyle's 
 people , he ran to examine the man , and marked him in his me- 
 mory, then returned, attended to the horse, and called every body 
 to. witness it. An officer of Frazer's saw it all , and said he would 
 write to you ; but hearing you were ill , told Farrell to lell you ,
 
 14? MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 \vhen well, thai he would vouch for his good conduct. Farrell, not 
 content, went to look for Mr. P. to make his complaint; but not 
 finding him , would not risk being late, and came home gently with 
 Sam, who I hear is quite well, it being only a flesh wound. All my 
 children and servants were up about this , and I ready to cry for 
 vexation ; but I foresaw that a fuss about it might bring on unplea- 
 sant stories , such as your horse being stabbed , and then the sol- 
 dier's revenge at Farrell , and in short many things to annoy you in 
 your convalescence , so I forbid all talk , and took it all on me. I 
 sent to Mr. Kempland, and had the whole told him, desiring the 
 soldier might be properly punished for being a brute to a poor 
 horse , and not because it was a colonel's horse , but a horse. In 
 some days after Mr. Kempland came to fetch Farrel to be witness 
 against the man , at a court-martial , after having kept him in the 
 blackholeaweek. I begged to be allowed to obtain his pardon, upon 
 condition he would promise never to hurt any horse again, and to 
 have him told that I forgave him , in hopes it would make him 
 more sorry for his fault than if I got him punished. Mr. R. seemed 
 much pleased with my commission , and I hope it will meet with 
 your approbation , as I did it exactly as I thought you would do. 
 Since that I send my horses to Mrs. P. or Moira-house. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that Captain Hamilton brought me a letter 
 from General N., by which I see poor Mrs. Oswald is dead, and 
 your poor aunt in the greatest affliction. 
 
 " Thursday, agth March. 
 
 " I now return to the arms, which you know the sequel of '. It 
 cost me very uneasy nights , I own , expecting a domiciliary visit 
 daily. We have heard from my sister Leinster, and she shows so 
 much sense, firmness, and resignation to whatever may be the event, 
 that I am charmed with her elevated and spirited character , and 
 trust it will save her from many hours of misery which poor Louisa 
 passes so unnecessarily for want of using her reason. As I mean to 
 show you this to-morrow, I shall stop." 
 
 The reader has seen , from this Journal , that , after the arrests of 
 the 12th of March , neither Lord Edward's brother or aunts were at 
 all aware of what had become of him. Whether it had been his in- 
 tention to attend the meeting at Bond's does not appear from the evi- 
 dence , but that he was one of those whom the officers expected to 
 find there was manifest. On the issuing of the separate warrant 
 against him, they lost no lime , as we see, in putting it into exo- 
 
 1 Her ladyship refused to deliver up iho arms, and there was no fnrther step 
 token abont ili'-in.
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. il:t 
 
 cution , and were actually in Leinsler House , making their search , 
 when , having hastened home , hearing of the arrests , he was on 
 the point of entering it. His faithful Tony, however, being on the 
 look-out for him , he received notice of what was going on in time 
 to escape. It is difficult, however fruitless such a feeling must be , 
 not to mingle a little regret with the reflection that, had he hap- 
 pened , on this day, to have been one of the persons arrested at 
 Bond's , not only might his own life , from the turn affairs after- 
 wards took , have been spared , but much of the unavailing blood- 
 shed that was now to follow have been prevented. 
 
 Another striking part of the fatality which seems to have marked 
 his every step , was , that he himself should have been the chief 
 cause of the informer Reynolds's promotion to those posts of honour 
 and trust in the confederacy which gave him ultimately so much the 
 power of betraying It. His lordship had , it appears , taken a kind 
 and active part in some negociation relative to a lease between Rey- 
 nolds and the Duke of Leinster, and being deceived, in the course 
 of this transaction , by an appearance of honesty and respectability 
 in the man , was induced , in the unsuspiciousness of his own na- 
 ture , to place entire confidence in him. To what an extent he car- 
 ried this reliance, the following extracts from Reynolds's depositions 
 will show : 
 
 " In the month of November, 1797, Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
 called upon me , at my house in Park-street , and said that he came 
 to request me to become a Colonel for the Barony of Kilkea and 
 Moon , in which Barony I had then purchased a place. I at first 
 hesitated, but he used many arguments , and I at length agreed to 
 accept the command. 
 
 " Lord Edward then said , ' That there was an honest man in the 
 county of Kildare , Matthew Kennaa , who would call and speak to 
 me about my election to be colonel.' About the latter end of January, 
 1798 , Matthew Kennaa came to me, and asked whether I would 
 stand my t election for colonel, on which I told him, that I would , 
 as Lord Edward had been speaking to me about it. Kennaa then said 
 that he knew his lordship had been speaking to me on the subject, 
 and adding , that it was intended I should hold a civil as well as mi- 
 litary employment , asked me which I should prefer, being a trea- 
 surer or a secretary. To this I answered , that I would rather be a 
 treasurer. 
 
 "About the 24th of February I went down to the Black Rock with 
 Cummings and M'Cann of Grafton-slreet to dine with Lord Edward, 
 when 1 I found Hugh Wilson. It was after dinner on (hat day, that 
 Lord Edward gave me the Resolutions and Returns of I he Rational
 
 144 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 Committee % with copies of which I furnished Mr. Cope for the go- 
 vernment. 
 
 " I expressed some doubts to Lord Edward , whether the United 
 Men could stand in battle before the King's troops , but he replied 
 lo me , ' That would not be' altogether necessary, as assistance from 
 France was expected , that then some of the United Men would cer- 
 tainly join in the French lines , and of course would soon become 
 disciplined ; but as to the multitude, all they would have to do would 
 be to harass the escorts of ammunition, cut off detachments and fo- 
 raging parlies, and, in fine, make the King's troops feel them- 
 selves in every respect in an enemy's country, while the actual 
 battles would be left to the foreign troops.' " 
 
 The very day before the arrest of the meeting at Bond's , a con- 
 versation, which we find thus detailed by the informer himself , 
 took place between him and his noble patron : " About four 
 o'clock, on Sunday the llth of March, I called at Leinster House, 
 upon Lord Edward Fitzgerald. I had a printed paper in my hand , 
 which I had picked up somewhere , purporting to be directions or 
 orders signed by Counsellor Saurin to the Lawyers' Corps. These 
 required them , in case of riot or alarm , to repair lo Smilhfield , 
 and such as had not ball-cartridge were lo get them at his house , 
 
 ' These papers were all in Lord Edward's hand-writing. The Returns will give 
 some notion of the force which he might have been able to rally round him had 
 he lived. 
 
 "National Committee, 26r& Feb. 1798. 
 
 " Ulster and Munster made no new retnrns this time, hut state their former 
 returns again of last Monday. 
 
 Armed Men. Finances in hand. 
 
 Ulster . 110,990 . 4367. 2 4 
 
 Munsler 100,634 . 147 17 2 
 
 Kildare . 10,863 . 110 17 7 
 
 Wioklow 12,895 . 93 6 4 
 
 Dnblin . 3,010 . 37 2 6 
 
 Dublin City 2.177 . 321 17 11 
 
 Qneen's Connly 11,689 . 91 2 1 
 
 King's County . 3,600 . 21 11 3 
 
 Carlow . 9,414 . 49 2 10 
 
 Kilkenny . 624 . 10 2 3 
 
 Meath 1,400 171 2 1 
 
 279,896 1485/. 4 9" 
 
 Among the Resolutions was the following, alluding to some conciliatory motion 
 which was then about to be brought forward by Lord Moira: 
 
 " Resolved, that \ve will pay no attention whatever to any attempts that may 
 be made by either House of Parliament , to divert the public mind from the grand 
 object which we have in view, as nothing short of the complete emancipation of 
 onr conntry will satisfy us."
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. i\r, 
 
 and such as were going out of town and did nol think their arms 
 safe, were to deposit them witli him: and there was a liltle paper 
 inside , which mentioned that their orders were to be kept secret. 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, upon reading this paper, seemed greatly 
 agitated : -he said he thought government intended to arrest him , 
 and he wished he could get to France , to hasten the invasion , which 
 he could do by his intimacy with Talleyrand Perigord, one of the 
 French ministers. He said he would not approve of a general inva- 
 sion at first, but that the Trench had some very fine fast-sailing fri- 
 gates . and that he would put on board them as many English and 
 Irish officers as he could procure to come over from France , and 
 as many men as were capable of drilling . and stores and ammuni- 
 tion of different kinds , and run them into some port in this coun- 
 try : he said he thought Wexford might do. : that it would be 
 unsuspected . and if they succeeded they could establish a rallying 
 point , until other help should come. 
 
 '- Lord Edward , after this conversation . walked up and down the 
 room in a very agitated manner : ' No," said he . 'it is impossible, 
 government cannot be informed of it ; they never have been able to 
 know where the Provincial meet.' Shortly after this . the servant 
 came and asked was he ready for dinner. T went a'way ; he wanted 
 me to stay dinner, but I would not." 
 
 In making his terms with the government . it was one of the con- 
 ditions insisted upon by Reynolds, that the channel through which 
 the information came should remain for some time a secret ; a 
 stipulation in which his employers were no less interested than him- 
 self, as, by wearing still the mask of a friend, he could retain still 
 the confidence of those he was betraying , and whatever victims his 
 first aim had missed might . from the same ambush , be made sure 
 of afterwards. In pursuance of this policy, we find him , as he him- 
 self admits , paying a friendly visit to Mrs. Bond , two or three days 
 after he had marked her husband for death ; and even to Lord Ed- 
 ward, whose place of concealment, at this moment, was kept se- 
 cret , as we have seen , from his own family, this man , under the 
 trust reposed in him . found ready admittance ; and , again abusing 
 the frank confidence he had inspired , was enabled to return to his 
 employers armed with fresh proofs, which, though unavailing . as 
 it turned out . against the noble Edward himself, were reserved for 
 the posthumous revenge of disinheriting his offspring. The follow- 
 ing is Reynolds'* own account of what passed on this occasion , and 
 it would be a task worthy of a great painter, to consign to canvas 
 his conception of what an interview between two such persons , 
 under such circumstances , must have been ; doing justice at once 
 to the ardour, (he gallant hearing . the elevation above all guile and 
 
 10
 
 146 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 suspicion , llial characterized one of Ihe parties , and the cool pur- 
 pose of deceit , yet consciousness of degradation , which , to any 
 eye, perhaps, but his victim's, must have been visible through the 
 plausibility of the other : 
 
 u I saw Lord Edward Fitzgerald the Wednesday night after, in 
 Aungier-street, at Dr. Kennedy's, having been brought to his place 
 of concealment there. I had little conversation with him at that lime, 
 but he desired me to come to him the following evening , at the same 
 place. I did so , and he brought me up stairs , and gave me a paper, 
 which he desired me to deliver as an Address from him to the 
 County, desiring them not to mind what had passed , as it signified 
 nothing ; but to fill up the vacancies occasioned by the arrest at 
 Bond's as soon as possible , as the time was at hand when they 
 should be called into action , and they might rely on his being in 
 his place on the day of need. 
 
 " He also told me , that he had in his hands 13Z. as Treasurer to 
 the Barony of Offaly, and 32/. as Treasurer to the county of Kildare, 
 which two sums he would take care to have handed over to me. Lord 
 Edward then went away from the house in disguise , under care of a 
 gentleman whom I believe to have been a Mr. Lawless , a surgeon." 
 
 That Reynolds promptly gave information to his employers of the 
 place and circumstances of this interview, there can hardly be any 
 doubt 5 and that they should have let pass such an opportunity of 
 seizing their noble prey, can only be accounted for either by his 
 quick change of place , which baffled their pursuit, or more pro- 
 bably by that wish to afford him a chance of quilting the country, 
 which , it is well known , one , at least , of the powerful members 
 of the cabinet at this time enterlained. The thought of abandoning, 
 however, for a single moment , the post of peril assigned to him , 
 had never once entered into Lord Edward's dauntless mind. The 
 very calamity that had just befallen the cause , but bound a spirit like 
 his more ardently lo jls service. To repair the breaches made in the 
 organization by these arrests, no less than three members of the 
 Leinsler Executive ' having been seized at Bond's, was now the 
 first great object of his lordship and his friends , and , with such 
 promptitude was this effected , thai , on Ihe very evening of the ar- 
 rests, three other persons were found to fill the vacant places. So 
 anxious, indeed, were they lo have it supposed by the people that this 
 discovery had but little deranged their plans, thai we find, shortly 
 after, one of the delegates , in his report lo an Ulster meeting , as- 
 suring them confidently, that the Leinstcr Committee had recovered 
 
 1 Towards the close of the year 1797, instead of the affairs of the Union being, 
 as before , under the control of ouc supreme Directory, sitting in Dublin , there 
 was an Executive Committee established for each of the four Provinces.
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 147 
 
 wholly from their shock , and thai wilhin four days after Ihe arrests , 
 the whole province had been again completely organized. 
 
 In order to calm , too , the minds of their followers , and prevent 
 either Ihe panic of some , or Ihe premature violence of others , from 
 having any injurious consequences , they drew up hand-bills , in 
 styles suited to their various readers, and had them distributed 
 among the initiated. From one of these the following ably written 
 paragraphs are extracted : 
 
 "For us, the keen but momentary anxiety, occasioned by the 
 situation of our invaluable friends , subsided , on learning all the 
 circumstances of Ihe case , into a calm tranquillity, a consoling con- 
 viction of mind, that they are as safe as innocence can make men 
 now ; and to these sentiments were quickly added a redoubled ener- 
 gy, a tenfold activity of exertion , which has already produced the 
 happiest effects. The organization of the capital is perfect. No vacan- 
 cies existing , arrangements have been made , and are still making , 
 to secure for our oppressed brethren , whose trials approach , the 
 benefit of legal defence : and the sentinels whom you have appointed 
 to watch over your interests stand firm at their posts , vigilant of 
 events , and prompt to give you notice and advice , which , on every 
 occasion at all requiring it , you may rely on receiving. 
 
 " This recital , Irishmen , is meant to guard those of you, who 
 are remote from the scene of the late events, against the conse- 
 quences of misrepresentation and mistake. The most unfounded 
 rumours have been set afloat , fabricated for the double purpose of 
 delusion and intimidalion. Your enemies talk of treachery, in the 
 vain and fallacious hope of creating it -, but you , who scorn equally 
 to be their dupes or their slaves , will meet their forgeries with dig- 
 nified contempt, incapable of being either goaded into untimely 
 violence, or sunk into pusillanimous despondency. Be firm, Irish- 
 men , but be cool and cautious ; be patient yet a w hile , trust to no 
 unauthorised communications; and above all we warn you, again 
 and again we warn you , against doing the work of your tyrants , by 
 premature , by partial or divided exertion. If Ireland shall be forced 
 to throw away the scabbard , let it be at her own time , not at theirs. 
 
 " Dublin, March ijth 
 ( St. Patrick's Day ), 1798." 
 
 While pulling in train all these measures for the relrieval of their 
 affairs, another essential object with them was to procure, some- 
 where near Dublin , a place of concealment for Iheir noble leader, 
 till circumstances should require his presence in the capital. With 
 this view Mr. Lawless , the gentleman mentioned in Reynolds's 
 evidence, applied to a friend of his, a widow lady, who occupied
 
 148 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 a retired house, on the banks of the canal, in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of Dublin ; and who , besides being known not to entertain 
 sentiments unfriendly to the popular cause , was a person of that 
 strong character of mind and generosity of spirit which alone can 
 qualify women to be heroines in such exigencies. To her sympathy, 
 Mr. Lawless felt assured his appeal in behalf of his friend would not 
 be vain. Though knowing nothing more of Lord Edward than what 
 fame brought to every ear, she consented, perilous as was such 
 hospitality, to afford him the shelter of her roof; and it was to this 
 lady's house that, on the night of the Thursday after the arrests at 
 Bond's, he was conveyed, in disguise, by Mr. Lawless, having 
 contrived to see Lady Edward and his children before he went. 
 
 Her ladyship had, immediately on the disappearance of Lord 
 Edward , removed from the Duke of Leinster's to a house in Denzel- 
 street , taking with her an attached female servant , and her hus- 
 band's favourite, Tony. The two latter believed, as did most people, 
 that their master had fled to France , and it was therefore with 
 no small surprise that the maid-servanl (as she herself told the 
 person from whom I heard the anecdote) saw, on going into her 
 lady's room late in the evening, his lordship and Lady Edward 
 silting together by the light of the fire. The youngest child had, al 
 his desire , been brought down out of its bed for him to see it , and 
 both he and Lady Edward were, as the maid thought , in tears. 
 
 The name he went by, while at the house of the widow lady, was 
 Jameson, and an old and faithful maid-servant of the family was the 
 only person allowed to wait upon him. He had not , however, been 
 more than two days in the house , when one of those slight acci- 
 dents , which seem to defy all caution , made the secret known to 
 the whole family. A pair of his boots having been left outside his 
 door to be cleaned, the man-servant to whom they had been given 
 for that purpose told his mistress afterwards that he knew " who (he 
 gentleman up siairs was^ but that she need not fear, for he would 
 die to save him." He then showed her Lord Edward's name written, 
 at full length , in one of the boots. Thinking it possible that , after 
 such a discovery, her guest might deem it dangerous to remain , 
 Mrs. ** mentioned the circumstance to him. But his fears were not 
 easily awakened: "What a noble fellow 1". he exclaimed, "I 
 should like to have some talk with him." In the hope that it might 
 be an incitement to the man's fidelity, the lady told him his lord- 
 ship's wish $ but he answered, "No, I will not look at him for, 
 if they should lake me up , I can then , you know, swear that 1 never 
 saw him." 
 
 Though Mr. Lawless had requested shelter but for a lew days for 
 his friend, he continued to remain in this unsuspected relreal near
 
 i- 9 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. r,n 
 
 a month; and as it was feared that to one accustomed so much to 
 exercise confinement might prove injurious, he used to walk out, 
 most nights, along the banks of the canal, accompanied generally 
 by a child, who became a great favourite of his , and whom it was 
 his amusement sometimes to frighten by jumping into the boats 
 that were half sunk in Ihe reservoir or basin of the canal. So light- 
 liearted, indeed, and imprudent was he at times, that Mrs.**, who, 
 during his absence on these walks , was kept in a constant state of 
 anxiety and suspense , used often to hear him , al a considerable 
 distance, laughing with his young companion, and more than once 
 went out to meet them , and try to impress upon him the necessity 
 of more caution. 
 
 Another subject of merriment between him and his young play- 
 t'ellow arose from a large bed of orange lilies which grew at the 
 bottom of the garden , and which they had conspired together lo 
 root up , some day, when Mrs.** should be from home. 
 
 Among the kind and attaching qualities by which her noble guest 
 \\iis distinguished , none struck Mrs.**more forcibly than the affec- 
 tionate solicitude with which he never ceased to think of Lady Edward 
 and his children ; and, in order to tranquillize his anxieties on this 
 head , she herself went more than once to Denzel-streel , taking 
 cu-ry precaution, of course, against being watched or tracked, 
 lo make inquiries about his family. She found Lady Edward, who 
 always ran lo embrace her, as if they had been tUe oldest friends, 
 full of gratitude for the attentions bestowed upon her husband ; and 
 Miealso, in the course of these visits, saw the faithful Tony, who 
 lamented to her that '"his unfortunate face prevented him from 
 going lo see his dear master'" 
 
 Of the feelings of his lordship's family, during this interval, 
 wholly uncertain as they were all left respecting his fate , the follow- 
 ing letter lo Lord Henry Fitzgerald from one of his relatives may 
 afford some notion. Lord Henry was at the time al Boyle Farm , 
 his villa on the Thames. 
 
 " Hanover Square , 2ist March , 1798. 
 
 -'Mv DEAR HENRY, 
 
 1 have been making all possible inquiry, and find that no fur- 
 ther accounts respecting Edward have arrived. There is a mail to- 
 day from Waterford , w hich , I understand , mentions that several 
 families have fled to Bristol. I find your family here are easy, and 
 satisfied with the accounts they have received. I wish they may 
 have reason to be so, but I hear reports so very different , and from 
 such authority, that I cannot entirely disbelieve them. I confess I
 
 150 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 should not have the least reliance on Lady Edward's story, as I be- 
 lieve it to be a fact that a pocket-book of great consequence is now 
 in the hands of the Duke of Portland , and which was taken from 
 her. 
 
 " It is said that his escape will probably be connived at, though 
 I believe that to be very far from the wishes of our ministers in 
 England. If I hear any thing, you may depend upon my letting you 
 know immediately. Let me hear if you intend being in town this 
 week, or soon. I most sincerely feel for you all, and hope that, 
 before it is long, you will have accounts that will set your minds at 
 ease. I returned from Bulstrode yesterday. I hope our parly there 
 may still take place shortly. Remember me kindly to Lady Henry. 
 Assure her, I pity her sincerely for being drawn into a fatal con- 
 nexion with such a nest of Jacobins. 
 
 Adieu. Ever yours, 
 
 "E. L." 
 
 I have already mentioned that there was , about the lime of the 
 arrests at Bond's , a very sincere wish , on the part of one of the 
 principal members of the Irish Cabinet , that Lord Edward's friends 
 might be able to induce him , by timely flight , to avert the fate 
 which , it was then evident , hung over him ; and , however strong 
 the abhorrence in which I must ever hold Lord Clare's political 
 conduct, it gives me , for more than one reason , no ordinary plea- 
 sure to be able so far to do justice to the kindlier feelings of his na- 
 ture , as to state that it was by him this truly humane and generous 
 wish was entertained. 
 
 A short time before the arrests of the 12th of March, when the 
 government were already furnished with full proof against Lord 
 Edward , Mr. Ogilvie , who had been himself but too painfully 
 aware of the extent to which his young relative had committed 
 himself in the conspiracy, hurried over to Dublin , for the purpose 
 of making one more effort to impress upon him the fearfulness of 
 his position , and endeavour to detach him from the confederacy. 
 In an interview which he had , shortly after his arrival, with Lord 
 Clare , that nobleman expressed himself with the most friendly 
 warmth on the subject, saying, "For God's sake get this young 
 man out of the country : the ports shall be thrown open to you , 
 and no hindrance whatever offered." 
 
 Lord Edward was . however, immovable : at the very time when 
 Mr. Ogilvie called upon him , there was a meeting of the chief 
 conspirators in the house , and his lordship came out of the room 
 where they were assembled to speak wilh him. In vain did his ad- 
 viser try every means of argument and persuasion : though as alive
 
 I 7 y8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 151 
 
 as ever to the kindness of his old friend , the noble Chief could only 
 answer, "It is now out of the question : I am too deeply pledged 
 lo these men to be able to withdraw with honour.' 1 
 
 It is right to add , that as the plans of the plot became further 
 unfolded , the alarm of the government for their own existence 
 superseded every other thought , and all considerations of mercy 
 were lost in their fears. At the period, therefore, where we are 
 now arrived , the search after his lordship , by the emissaries of 
 authority, was pursued with as much eagerness as political zeal , 
 urged by fear and revenge, could inspire. 
 
 As it would have been difficult to find a retreat more suited lo 
 his purpose , he would, no doubt , have remained at Mrs.**"s some 
 time longer, had not a circumstance which now occurred awakened 
 some fears for his safely. During the absence , one day, of the lady 
 of the house , the maid-servant came in alarm to tell him that she 
 had just seen a guard of soldiers , with fixed bayonets , pass on the 
 other side of the canal. " And I, loo," said Lord Edward, " have 
 observed, within these ten minutes, a man whom I know to be a 
 police-officer looking up earnestly at the house." The maid , whose 
 terrors were naturally increased by the responsibility now thrown 
 upon her, made him instantly put on a lady's night-dress and get 
 into bed ; then , darkening the room , as for a person indisposed , 
 she placed a table, with medicine bottles upon it, beside the bed. 
 In this situation he remained for two hours , but neither policeman 
 nor soldiers again made their appearance ; and the scene served 
 but as a subject of mirth for the evening's conversation. It excited , 
 however, some fears , even his own sense of security was disturbed 
 by it, and his friends thought it most prudent thai he should, fora 
 time , at least, remove to Dublin, where, in the house of a respect- 
 able feather-merchant , named Murphy, in Thomas-street , he was 
 to be allowed to lie concealed for some days. 
 
 While the noble fugitive was thus evading their toils , the go- 
 vernment , w hose apprehensions still increased , in proportion as 
 fresh disclosures, every day, revealed to them the extent to which 
 the foundations of their authority had been undermined, made the 
 whole country at length participators of their panic by a Proclama- 
 tion which appeared on the 30lh of March , declaring the entire 
 kingdom in a slate of rebellion ; and at the same time with this 
 Proclamation appeared an Order signed by Sir Ralph Abercrombie, 
 authorising the troops to act without waiting for the authority of a 
 'i\il magistrate 1 . 
 
 1 It was on finding himself, as he thought , compelled by a sense of obedience 
 to affix his name to this Order, in opposition to all his own expressed opinions 
 both in public and in the council, that Sir R Abercrorabie wrote lo reqnest that
 
 162 MEMOIRS I79 8, 
 
 As this revival of the famous Order of Lord Garhampton , in 
 1797, gave full loose to all the licence of the soldiery, while by 
 Indemnity Bills the magistracy were no less encouraged to pass 
 the bounds of the law, those who know what an Orange magistrate 
 was in those times of terror, and recollect Sir Ralph Abercrombie's 
 own description of the army then under him, that "it was in a 
 state of licentiousness that rendered it formidable to every one but 
 the enemy," may be left to picture to themselves some of the hor- 
 rors to which, between bench and camp , the people of Ireland were 
 now systematically delivered up by their rulers. That it was done 
 on system has been since avowed , the professed object being to 
 goad the wretched multitude into revolt before the arrival of a 
 Frencli force should render their outbreak more formidable ; and 
 with such over zeal and efficacy was this work of torture performed 
 that , in the county of Wexford , where the United Irish system had 
 but little extended itself, the effects of the Hoggings and burnings 
 now introduced there by the loyalists was to convert it into one of 
 the worst hot-beds of the rebellion that followed. 
 
 While such was Ihe plan of the government, upon Lord Edward 
 and his friends, whose policy it was to prevent a premature rising, 
 fell the far more difficult task of reining in the impatience of the 
 maddened people , so as not , at the same time , to break their spirit 
 or allow them to fancy themselves deceived. To effect this purpose, 
 all the influence of the Executive was now directed, weakened, 
 however, as that influence had , to a considerable extent, become , 
 as well from the necessary disappearance of Lord Edward himself 
 from the scene ' , as from the far inferior intellects that had now 
 
 lie might be recalled from his command. There conld scarcely, indeed, be any 
 severer comment upon the acts of the Irish government at Jhis period than what 
 a record of .the opinions entertained of it, bolh by Sir Ralph Abercrombie and 
 Sir John Moore, would furnish. Called to act, as they were, in this frightful 
 struggle, at a time when its last convulsion was so near, and when, if ever, 
 the violence of the government might seem to be justified by its danger, these 
 hnmane and sensible men yet saw too clearly how the danger had been brought 
 about to feel much sympathy for ihe parly whose own injustice had provoked it, 
 nor, while loyally assisting ihe authorities in their present measures of self defence, 
 could they forget that a little more tolerance and justice would have rendered 
 such measures unnecessary. Neither was it so much to the government as to the 
 gentry of ihe old dominant parly that the mischiefs which they saw, both actual 
 and to come, were attributed by them; for it is known that Sir John Moore, in 
 reporting to the Lord Lieutenant the state of quiet to which, in the summer of 
 1798, the county of Wicklow had been reclaimed by him, added that ''though 
 the presence of the troops might perhaps be necessary for some time longer, it 
 would be more to check the yeomen and Protestants than the people in general." 
 1 That he was not lost sight of, however, in the " mind's eye" of the people ap- 
 pears from passages such as (he following, in the publications of the day : *' And 
 thpn , noblc-miiidud youth , whose princely virtues acquire new splendour from
 
 i 79 8. OF LOUD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 15S 
 
 joined him at the helm ; Mr. Lawless ' being the only man of real 
 ability whom the late seizure of the other Chiefs had left remaining 
 by his side. AH was done, however, that, under such circumstances, 
 could be effected , to sustain the hopes of the people ; and , early in 
 April , we find delegates despatched to the >iorlh and elsewhere , to 
 spread the intelligence that all was in readiness in the French ports 
 for invasion , and that about the middle of the month it was expected 
 the troops would be on board. 
 
 But while holding forth this expectation to their followers , the 
 duel's themselves could not but be well aware that their chance of 
 any effective assistance from France was now considerably dimi- 
 nished. At no time, indeed, among a purely military people like 
 the French, could a species of warfare so much dependent upon 
 naval tactics for its success have been expected to be very popular ; 
 and the result of the two experiments, on a grand s.cale, against 
 Ireland was not such as could tend to remove their indisposition to 
 such enterprises. The gallant Hoche , who alone felt sanguinely on 
 this subject , was now no more ; and the great man who was , at 
 this time, beginning to direct the fortunes of France, looked with 
 no favouring eye either upon the Irish or their cause. 
 
 At the time , indeed , when the termination of his glorious cam- 
 paign in Italy left Bonaparte at leisure to turn his attention to this 
 subject , the number of fugitives from Ireland in Paris had very 
 much increased : and the indifferent characters of some , with the 
 mutual jealousies and bickerings of almost all, each setting him- 
 self forth as more important and trust-worthy than the others, 
 brought discredit both on themselves and on the country of which 
 they were the self-elected organs. Neither can it be at all doubled 
 that Bonaparte, at this period of his career, when already he saw 
 the imperial crow n glimmering in the distance, had begun to shrink 
 from the contact of revolutionists and levellers, and to view with 
 feelings anticipatory, as it were , of the future Emperor, those prin- 
 ciples out of which his own power had sprung -, well knowing 
 
 a ferveut zeal for your country's rights, oh may the Genins of Liberty, ever 
 faithful to its votaries, guard your steps! may the new Harp of Erin vibrate its 
 thrilling sounds through the land to call yon forth and hail yon with the angelic 
 cry of Jhe Deliverer of our Country!" (March 27, 1798.) In another Address we 
 find ' When an O'Connor is hunted from his country for the crime of loving 
 Ireland, when Fitzgerald is a fugitive for sacrificing the prejudices of birth to 
 accelerate the happiness of his native land , r> etc etc. 
 
 1 This gentleman, whom I knew slightly, and who was a person of that mild 
 and quiet exterior which is usually found to accompany the most determined 
 spirits, made his escape to France at the time of the apprehension of the Shearer's, 
 and rising afterwards to be a general in the French service , lost a leg in one of 
 the engagements at NValchoren.
 
 154 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 that these principles were even more potent to overturn than to 
 elevate , and that he had henceforth no choice but to be their victim 
 or their master. It is not to be wondered at therefore that a race like 
 the Irish , among whom rebellion had, he knew, been handed down, 
 from age to age , as a sort of birthright , should be regarded by the 
 candidate for empire with no very friendly eye , or that the energies 
 of France which he now wielded should be diverted to objects more 
 consonant with his designs. Had he happened to view Ireland and 
 her cause with Hoche's eyes , who can say what might have been 
 the result? That he himself, in his latter days, repented of not 
 having played the game of ambition otherwise , appears strongly 
 from his own avowal at St. Helena ' : " If instead," he is repre- 
 sented to say, " of the expedition to Egypt, I had undertaken that 
 against Ireland , what could England have done now ? On such 
 chances do the destinies of empires depend ! " 
 
 We left Lord Edward on his way from Mrs. * * 's to take refuge 
 in the house of Mr. Murphy of Thomas-street , whither he was 
 brought by his friend Lawless, wrapped up in a countryman's 
 great coat , and , in order the more completely to disguise him , 
 wearing a pig-tailed wig. Though his host had seen him frequently 
 before, he was now, for the first lime, made known to him as an 
 acquaintance. During the fortnight his lordship passed with him at 
 this period , he lived much the same sort of life as atMrs.**'s, walk- 
 ing out often at night , along with his host , by the canal , and receiv- 
 ing the visits but of two or three persons, among whom- were, if I 
 am rightly informed, Major Plunket a and another military gentle- 
 man , of the rank of Colonel, named Lumm. To this latter officer 
 Lord Edward had despatched a note , immediately on his arrival , 
 by Murphy, who returned, attended by Colonel Lumm, to Thomas- 
 street, taking the precaution to walk before him all the way. 
 
 1 "Si, an lien de I'expedition de 1'Egypte, j'eusse fait celle de 1'Irlande, si de 
 legers derangeineus n'avaient mis obstacle a inoii entreprise de Bonlogne, que 
 ponrrait 1'Angleterre aujourd'hui? A qaoi tietment les destinees des empires!" 
 Memoires de Las Cases. If there be not some error ia reporting this remark of 
 Napoleon, it would appear to imply, that Ireland was, after all, the real object 
 of the Boulogne armament. See, for some remarks upon this subject, the acute 
 and able Commentary on the Memoirs of Tone by Colonel Roche Fermoy.. 
 
 So ill protected was the South of Ireland at this time, notwithstanding all the 
 warnings that had been given, that when Sir Ralph Abercrombie made a calcu- 
 lation of the number of troops that could be collected, in case the enemy should 
 appear at Bantry or the Shannon, he found that, in the course of four or five 
 days, six thousand would be the utmost he could muster! 
 
 1 To this gentleman , who had been in the Austrian service, I find the follow- 
 ing allusion in the Personal Narrative of the Rebellion by Mr. Charles Teeling : 
 
 -" I'lunket, that intrepid soldier of fortune, whose fame will be recorded while 
 f'uduor the Danube are remembered."
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 155 
 
 As it was now more than a month since he had seen any of his 
 family, he could no longer restrain his impatience for an interview 
 with them , but , insisting that Mr. Murphy should dress him in 
 women's clothes , went , attended by his host , in that disguise , to 
 Denzel-street. The surprise , however , had nearly proved fatal to 
 Lady Edward. Some friend being with her at the moment, the ser- 
 vent came to say that there was a lady in the parlour waiting to see 
 her ; and , on Lady Edward discovering who it was , and that he 
 meant to remain till next night , her alarm at his danger, and her 
 anxiety about his return , brought on a premature confinement, and 
 her second daughter, Lucy, was then born. 
 
 From the house of Mr. Murphy, his lordship, at the end of a 
 fortnight, was removed to Mr. Cormick's, another feather - mer- 
 chant, in the same street; and, between this and the residence of 
 3Ir. Moore , but a few doors distant , contrived to pass his time safe 
 from detection till about the first week in May. As the connexions 
 of Cormick and Moore , both men of extensive trade , lay chiefly 
 among that class of persons who were most likely to be implicated 
 in the conspiracy, their houses were of course the resort of most 
 of those individuals with whom it was of importance that Lord 
 Edward should communicate upon the business he had in train,- 
 a convenience which, while it facilitated his plans of concert with 
 his followers , at the same time endangered his safety, by putting 
 in the power of so many more persons the secret of his concealment. 
 It is , indeed , suspected by those best acquainted with his position 
 at this period , that it was among the company he so rashly permitted 
 to be collected around him at Cormick's and Moore's , that he met 
 the person whose imprudence or treachery afterwards betrayed 
 him. How unguardedly his life was placed at the mercy of every 
 chance visitor will be seen by the following extracts from the evi- 
 dence of a person of the name of Hughes , taken before a Committee 
 of the Lords , in August, 1798. 
 
 " Deponent went to Dublin on the 20th of April, and remained 
 there about nine days. He called on Samuel Neilson , walked with 
 him to Cormick's, a feather-merchant in Thomas-street. He was 
 introduced by Neilson to Cormick , in the office. Cormick asked 
 them to go up stairs ; he and Neilson went up stairs , and found 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Mr. Lawless , the surgeon , playing at 
 billiards. He had been introduced to Lord Edward , about a year 
 before, by Teeling; he was a stranger to Lawless; stayed about an 
 hour; no particular conversations; was invited to dine there that 
 day, and did so; the company were , Lord Edward , Lawless, Neil- 
 son , Cormick , and his wife. The conversation turned upon the 
 state of Hie ountr\. and the violent measures of uoxj-rnmenl . in
 
 156 MEMOIRS 1798 
 
 letting the army loose. The company were all of opinion , that 
 there was then no chance of the people resisting by force with any 
 success." 
 
 Notwithstanding the opinion here reported , it had , at this time , 
 become manifest, both to Lord Edward himself and the greater 
 number of those who acted with him, that the appeal to arms could 
 not be much longer delayed , and that , there being now litlle hope 
 of the promised aid from France, by Irish hands alone must the 
 cause of Ireland be lost or won. Among those who had , from the 
 first , insisted on the necessity of French aid , one or two sliil 
 strongly deprecated any unassisted effort, and even withdrew from 
 the meetings of the conspiracy, on learning that such a course was 
 to be pursued. Well-intentioned, however, as were the views of 
 these persons, Lord Edward could not but recollect, that to the 
 prevalence of the same timid advisers, in the year 1797, was owing 
 the loss of one of the most precious moments for action that fortune 
 had ever presented to them , when their Union was still in full 
 strength and heart, and treachery had not yet found its way into 
 their councils. Even granting, too, that to refrain from action 
 would have been the true policy at this moment , such a course , in 
 the present headlong temper of the people, goaded, as they were, 
 by every torment that tyranny could devise, had become wholly 
 impracticable. It was not for those , therefore , who had cheered 
 them to the combat, to let them now plunge into it alone, nor, 
 however desperate the prospect or success , to shrink from sharing 
 the worst with them. Such, at least, were the generous views that 
 determined Lord Edward to take his chance with his fellow-coun- 
 trymen , and the event was 'not far from proving , that there was 
 almost as much policy as generosity in his resolution. 
 
 That , at the same time , loo , he was not unmindful of what these 
 more prudent persons counselled, appears from a letter which, 
 about the beginning of May, reached him at Cormick's, in answer 
 to a request made , through the Irish agent at Paris , that a force 
 not exceeding 5000 men should be sent instantly to their succour. 
 The communication of the agent, expressed in ambiguous phrase, 
 was as follows : "I have just received a letter from L., who has 
 made applications to the trustees for the advance of 5000/. upon 
 your estates , which they refused , saying they would make no pay- 
 ment short of the entire , and that they would not be able to effect 
 that for four months." 
 
 To wait the performance of this promise, a delusory one , as 
 events afterwards proved , was now considered impossible ; no 
 alternative being any longer left to the people but cither to break 
 out into revolt or throw themselves on .the mercy of their torment-
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 157 
 
 ors. The goading system had done its work ; discontent had been 
 ripened into rage ; and the half-hangings and the burnines , the 
 picket and the scourge , had left little more to the leaders of the in- 
 furiated multitude than to direct that rage which their rulers had 
 roused. To enter into details of the cruelties perpetrated at this 
 period is beyond the scope of my work. But it may be sufficient to 
 say, that if, out of the great mass of uneducated Catholics, by 
 whom, disorganized and without leaders, the partial rebellion that 
 broke out afterwards was sustained , there were some guilty of atro- 
 cities that have left a stain on the Irish name , they therein showed 
 themselves but too apt learners of those lessons of cruelty which 
 their own government had , during the few months previous to the 
 insurrection , taught them. 
 
 It seems to have been about the first week in May, that the reso- 
 lution was finally taken to prepare for a general rising before the 
 end of that month. Intelligence of the design was transmitted 
 through all parls of the Union , and arrangements made with the 
 Execulives of the three other Provinces , so as that the news of the 
 risings of their respective districts should reach Dublin on the same 
 day the rebellion broke out there. Of such importance was it thought 
 to prepare the South for this simultaneous movement , that the 
 younger Sheares . who was now one of the most active members of 
 the Leinster Executive , proceeded , early in May, to Cork , to lay 
 the train for explosion in that quarter. 
 
 To the momentous object of gaining over the militias , among 
 whom disaffection had already spread to a great extent, they now 
 applied themselves with a degree of zeal , or rather of headlong 
 rashness, of which the trial of the unfortunate Sheares's discloses a 
 striking example; and such a footing had they, at this time , ob- 
 tained in most of the regiments , that we find Lawless, early in May, 
 holding a conference, on the subject of the rising, with a meeting 
 of delegates from almost all the militias in Ireland. By the plan of 
 operations for Leinsler, where Lord Edward was to raise his stan- 
 dard , it was arranged that the forces of the three counties of Dublin, 
 \\kklow, and Kildare should co-operate in an advance upon the 
 capital , taking by surprise the camp at Lehaunstown , and the 
 artillery at Chapelizod , and crowning their enterprise by the 
 seizure of the Lord Lieutenant, and the other members of the go- 
 vernment, in Dublin. 
 
 As it was now known that the pursuit after Lord Edward was 
 becoming every day more active and eager, his friends felt , at last , 
 the necessity of having him removed to some fitter place of conceal- 
 ment : and as none offered that seemed to combine so many advan- 
 . both of security and comfort, as his former asylum at
 
 158 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 Mrs. **'s, to that lady's house he was again , at the beginning of 
 May. conveyed. Being uncertain as lo his coming on the evening 
 first named , Mrs** had gone lo the house of a neighbour, having 
 left word at home, that she should be sent for "if Miss Fitzgerald, 
 from Athy, arrived. "Though so fully prepared to expect him, yet 
 such was her sense of the risk and responsibity she so heroically 
 took upon herself, that when the servant came, between eleven 
 and twelve at night , to say that " Miss Fitzgerald , from Athy, had 
 arrived,'' so agitated was she by the announcement, that she actually 
 fainted. 
 
 Lord Edward's conductors, Messrs. Cormick and Lawless, had 
 themselves experienced some alarm on the way, having heard voices 
 behind as they came along the canal from Thomas-street, which 
 appeared to them like those of persons eagerly in pursuit. In their 
 anxiety they persuaded his lordship, who was, all the while, 
 laughing at their fears, to lay himself down in a ditch , by the road's 
 side, till these people ( who , after all, proved to be only labourers 
 reluming home) should have passed by 5 and the plight in which, 
 after having been covered up lo the chin in mud . he made his re- 
 appearance among his old friends, was lo himself a source of much 
 jest and amusement. 
 
 The guarded privacy in which, during his first visit here , he had 
 lived , was now no longer observed by him , and scarcely a day 
 elapsed without his having company sometimes six or seven per- 
 sonsto dine with him. Fearless as he was by nalure, his familia- 
 rity, of late, with danger had rendered him still more reckless of 
 it : the companions of his hours , at Cormick's and Moore's , being 
 now in the secret of their Chief's retreat , felt no less pride than 
 pleasure in being numbered among his visitors; and, though he 
 himself was far too temperate to be what is called convivial , that 
 excitement of spirits natural on the eve of any great enterprise led 
 him to relish , no doubl , the society of Ihose who were so soon lo 
 share his dangers. To his kind, watchful hostess, however, this 
 unguarded mode of living was a constant source of apprehension 
 and disquiet ; nor did his friend Lawless fail earnestly lo represent 
 lo him Ihe great danger of admitting so many visitors, more 
 especially, a visitor so inconsiderate as Neilson, who, well known 
 as was his person , used lo ride oul frequently, in full daylight , to 
 call upon him. 
 
 While matters were thus verging towards a crisis , another fatal 
 bolt fell, and almost as unexpecledly as the former, among Ihe 
 conspirators. Through the means of an officer of the King's Counly 
 Militia, named Armstrong, who, by passing himself off as a person 
 of republican principles, gained the confidence of the two brothers.
 
 i7)8- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 159 
 
 John and Henry Shcares , the government had obtained an insight 
 into the movements of the conspiracy, of which, quickened as was 
 now their vigilance by their fears , they lost no time in vigorously 
 availing themselves ; and , as a first step , on the 11 In of this month, 
 a Proclamation was issued , offering a reward of WOOL for the ap- 
 prehension of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. How far this measure , and 
 the ulterior ones it seemed to portend , had any share in hastening 
 the moment of explosion , does not appear 5 but it was now an- 
 nounced by the Chiefs to their followers that on the night of the 
 23d inst. the general rising was to take place. 
 
 The awful fiat being thus sent forth, it was seen that, for the 
 purpose of concerting measures with his colleagues , the presence 
 of Lord Edward himself would be necessary in the capital , during 
 the week previous to the great event, and he was, accordingly, 
 about the 13lh, removed from** to Dublin, leaving his hostess 
 under the impression that he went but to attend some of the ordinary 
 meetings of the Union. In taking leave of her he spoke with his 
 usual cheerfulness, saying that, as soon as these meetings were 
 over, he would return ; nor aware as were all then present of the 
 perils of his position, was it possible for them, while looking at 
 that bright, kindly countenance, to associate with it a single boding 
 of Hie sad fate that was now so near him. 
 
 A night or two after his leaving Mrs.**'s, it appears that he rode, 
 attended only by Neilson , to reconnoitre the line of advance, on 
 the Kildarc side, to Dublin, the route marked out on one of the 
 papers found upon him when arrested , and il was on this occasion 
 that he was , for some time , stopped and questioned , by the patrolc 
 at Palmerslon. Being well disguised, however, and representing 
 himself to be a doctor on his way to a dying patient , his companion 
 and he were suffered to proceed on their way. 
 
 It was thought advisable , as a means of baffling pursuit , that he 
 should not remain more than a night or two in any one place , and , 
 among other retreats contemplated for him , application had been 
 made, near a week before , to his former host, Murphy, who con- 
 sented willingly to receive him. Immediately after, however, ap- 
 peared the Proclamation offering a reward for his apprehension, 
 which so much alarmed Murphy, who was a person not of very 
 strong mind or nerves , that he repented of his offer, and would 
 most gladly have retracted it, had he but known how to communi- 
 cate with the persons to whom he had pledged himself. 
 
 On the 17th , Ascension Thursday, he had been led to expect his 
 noble guest would be w ith him ; but , owing most probably to the 
 circumstance I am about to mention, his lordship did not then 
 make his appearance. On the very morning of thai day, the active
 
 160 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 Town-Major, Sirr, had received information that a party of persons, 
 supposed to be Lord Edward Fitzgerald's body-guard , would be on 
 their way from Thomas-street to Usher's Island at a certain hour 
 that night. Accordingly, taking with him a sufficient number of 
 assistants for his purpose, and accompanied also by Messrs. Ryan 
 and Emerson , Major Sirr proceeded , at the proper time , to the 
 quarter pointed out, and there being two different ways (either 
 Walling-street , or Dirty-lane ), by which the expected party might 
 come, divided his force so as to intercept them by either road. 
 
 A similar plan having happened to be adopted by Lord Edward's 
 escort, there took place, in each of these two streets, a conflict 
 between the parties ; and Major Sirr, who had almost alone to bear 
 the brunt in his quarter, was near losing his life. In defending him- 
 self with a sword which he had snatched from one of his assailants, 
 he lost his footing and fell ; and had not those with whom he was 
 engaged been much more occupied with their noble charge than 
 with him, he could hardly have escaped. But, their chief object 
 being Lord Edward's safety, after snapping a pistol or two at Sirr, 
 they hurried away. On rejoining his friends , in the other street . 
 the Town-Major found that they had succeeded in capturing one of 
 their opponents , and this prisoner, who represented himself as a 
 manufacturer of muslin from Scotland, and whose skilfully assumed 
 ignorance of Irish affairs induced them , a day or two after, to dis- 
 charge as innocent, proved to have been no other than the famous 
 M'Cabe , Lord Edward's confidential agent , and one of the most 
 active organizers in ihe whole confederacy. 
 
 Of the precise object or destination of this party, I have not been 
 able to make out any thing certain-, but if, as is generally sup- 
 posed, Lord Edward was at the time on his way to Moira-house, 
 it was for the purpose, no doubt, of once more seeing Lady Edward 
 (to whom the noble-minded mislress of that mansion had , since his 
 concealment, paid the most compassionate attention) before his 
 final plunge into a struggle the issue of which must , even to him- 
 self, have been so doubtful. 
 
 On the following night he was brought from Mooreis to the house 
 of -Mr. Murphy, Mrs. Moore herself being his conductress. He 
 had been suffering lately from cold and sore throat, and, as his 
 host thought , looked much altered in his appearance since he had 
 last seen him. An old maid-servant was the only person in the 
 house besides themselves. , 
 
 V'\l morning, as Mr. Murphy was standing within his gateway 
 there came a woman from Moore's with a bundle which , without 
 saying a word , she put into his hands , and which . taking for 
 granted that it was for Lord Edward . he carried up to his lordship.
 
 1798- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 161 
 
 It was found to contain a coat , jacket , and trousers of dark green 
 edged with red, together with a handsome military cap, of a co- 
 nical form. At the sight of this uniform , which , for the first lime, 
 led him to suspect that a rising must be at hand , the fears of Ihc 
 already nervous host were redoubled ; and , on being desired by 
 Lord Edward to put it somewhere out of sight, he carried the bundle 
 to a loft over one of his warehouses , and there hid it under some 
 goat-skins , whose offensiveness , he thought , would be a security 
 against search. 
 
 About the middle of the day, an occurrence took place , which , 
 from its appearing to have some connexion with the pursuit after 
 himself, excited a good deal of apprehension in his lordship's mind. 
 A serjeant-major, with a party of soldiers, had been seen to pass 
 up the street , and were , at the moment w hen Murphy ran to ap- 
 prise his guest of it, hailing before Moore's door. This suspicious 
 circumstance, indicating, as it seemed, some knowledge of his 
 haunts , startled Lord Edward , and he expressed instantly a wish to 
 be put in some place of secrecy ; on which Murphy took him out 
 on the top of the house , and laying him down in one of the valleys 
 formed between the roofs of his warehouses , left him there for some 
 hours. During the excitement produced in the neighbourhood by 
 the appearance of the soldiers , Lord Edward's ollicious friend , 
 Neilson , was , in his usual flighty and inconsiderate manner, 
 walking up and down the street, saying occasionally, has he passed, 
 to Murphy, who was standing in his gateway, " Is he safe?" 
 " Look sharp." 
 
 While this anxious scene was passing in one quarter, treachery, 
 and it is still unknown from what source, was at work in ano- 
 ther. It must have been late in the day that information of his lord- 
 ship's hiding-place reached the government, as Major Sirrdid not 
 receive his instructions on the subject till but a few minutes before 
 he proceeded to execute them. Major Swan and Mr. Ryan ( the 
 latter of whom volunteered his services ) happened to be in his 
 house at the- moment; and he had but time to take a few soldiers, 
 in plain clothes , along with him , purposing to send , on his ar- 
 rival in Thomas-street, for the pickets of infantry and cavalry in 
 that neighbourhood. 
 
 To return to poor Lord Edward : as soon as the alarm produced 
 by the soldiers had subsided , he ventured to leave his retreat , and 
 resume his place in the back drawing-room, where, Mr. Murphy 
 having invited Neilson to join them , they soon after sat down to 
 dinner. The cloth had not been many minutes removed, when 
 Neilson , as if suddenly recollecting something , hurried out of the 
 room and left the house 5 shortly after which, Mr. Murphy, seeing 
 
 11
 
 lOi MEMOIRS 1798 
 
 that his guest was not inclined to drink any wine, went down stairs. 
 In a few minutes after, however, returning, he found that his lord- 
 ship had , iii the interim , gone up to his bed-room , and , on fol- 
 lowing him thither, saw him lying , without his coat, upon the bed. 
 There had now elapsed, from the time of Neilson's departure, not 
 more than ten minutes, and it is asserted that he had, in going out, 
 left the hall door open ' . 
 
 Mr. Murphy had but just begun to ask his host whether he would 
 like some tea , when , hearing a trampling on the stairs , he turned 
 round , and saw Major Swan enter the room. Scarcely had this of- 
 ficer time to mention the object of his visit , when Lord Edward 
 jumped up, as Murphy describes him. *' like a tiger," from the 
 bed , on seeing which, Swan fired a small pocket-pistol at him, but 
 without effect ; and then , turning round short upon Murphy, from 
 whom he seemed to apprehend an attack , thrust the pistol violently 
 in his face, saying to a soldier, who just then entered , " Take that 
 fellow away." Almost at the same instant, Lord Edward struck at 
 Swan with a dagger, which , it now appeared , he had had in the 
 bed with him 5 and, immediately after, Ryan, armed only with a 
 sword-cane , entered the room. 
 
 In the mean time, Major Sirr, who had slopped below to plncv 
 the pickets round the house, hearing the report of Swan's pistol, 
 hurried up to the landing, and from thence saw, within the room , 
 Lord Edward struggling between Swan and Ryan , the latter down 
 on the floor, weltering in his blood , and both clinging to their 
 powerful adversary, who was now dragging them towards the door. 
 Threatened , as he was , with a fate similar to that of his compa- 
 nions, Sirr had no alternative but to fire, and, aiming his pistol 
 deliberately, he lodged the contents in Lord Edward's right arm , 
 near the shoulder. The wound for a moment staggered him , but, as 
 he again rallied , and w as pushing towards the door, Major Sin- 
 called up the soldiers -, and so desperate were fheir captive's struggles, 
 that they found it necessary lo lay their firelocks across him , before 
 he could be disarmed or bound so as lo prevent further mischief. 
 
 It was during one of these instinctive efforts of courage that the 
 opportunity was , as I understand , taken by a wretched drummer 
 to give him a wound in the back of the neck, which, though slight, 
 
 1 From my mention of these particulars respecting Neilson, it cannot fail to 
 have struck the reader, that some share of the suspicion of having betrayed Lord 
 Edward, attaches to this man. That his conduct was calculated to leave such an 
 impression cannot be denied; bnt besides that the general character of his mind 
 bordering closely, as it did, on insanity, affords some solution of these incoher- 
 encics, the fact of his being afterwards left lo share the fate of the other State 
 1'risoi.trs would seem of itsell sufficient to absolve him from any such imputation.
 
 1798 Ol LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1G3 
 
 yet, from its position , contributed not a little to aggravate the 
 uneasiness of his last hours. There are also instances mentioned of 
 rudeness , both in language and conduct , which he had to suffer, 
 while in this state, from some of the minor tools of government , 
 and which, even of such men , it is painful and difficult to believe. 
 But so it is, 
 
 Curs suap at lions iu the toils, whose looks 
 Frighted them being free. 
 
 It being understood that Doctor Adreen, a surgeon of much emi- 
 nence, was in the neighbourhood, messengers were immediately 
 despatched to fetch him , and his attention was called to the state of 
 Jhe three combatants. The wounds of Major Swan, though numer- 
 ous , were found not to* toe severe ; but Mr. Ryan was in a situation 
 that gave but little hope of recovery. When , on examining Lord 
 Ed\\ard"s wound, Adreen pronounced it not to be dangerous, his 
 lordship calmly answered , " I'm sorry for it." 
 
 From Thomas-street he was conveyed, in a sedan-chair, open at 
 the top. to the Castle, where the papers found upon him, one of 
 them containing the line of advance upon Dublin, from the county 
 of Kildare , were produced and verified. On hearing that he was 
 at the Castle, the Lord Lieutenant sent his private secretary, Mr. 
 Watson , to assure him that orders had been given for every possible 
 attention being shown to him , consistently with the security of his 
 person as a State Prisoner. 
 
 By the gentleman w ho was the bearer of this message , I have 
 been favoured with the follow ing particulars , as honourable to 
 himself as they cannot but be interesting to others, of the interview 
 which , in consequence , he had with the noble prisoner : 
 
 " I found Lord Edward leaning back on a couple of chairs, in 
 the office of the Secretary in the War Department, his arm ex- 
 tended, and supported by the surgeon , who was dressing his wound. 
 His countenance was pallid , but serene ; and when I told him, in a 
 low voice , not to be overheard , my commission from the Lord 
 Lieutenant , and that I was going to break the intelligence of what 
 had occurred to Lady Edward , asking him , with every assurance 
 of my fidelity and secrecy, whether there was any confidential com- 
 munication he wished to be made to her ladyship, or whether I 
 could undertake any other personal act of kindness in his service, 
 he answered merely, but collectedly, k No , no, thank you, 
 nothing, nothing ; only break it to her tenderly.' 
 
 When I called at Lady Edward's house , this being in the even- 
 ing, and after dark , I found that she was absent , at a party at Moira 
 House : I therefore communicated to two of her^female attendants 
 the events of the evening.'
 
 16i MEMOIRS 1*98. 
 
 The effect produced by (his event is thus strikingly described , by 
 one of the historians of the Rebellion J : " The arrest of Lord 
 Edward visibly occasioned a strong sensation among the mass of the 
 people in Dublin , as their hopes of getting possession of the metro- 
 polis, on the approaching insurrection which they meditated, rested 
 much on his valour and skill as an officer. Numbers of them were 
 seen going from one part of the town to the other, with a quick pace 
 and a serious countenance. Others were perceived, in small parties, 
 conversing with that seriousness of look and energy of gesticulation, 
 which strongly indicated the agitation of their minds. A rising to 
 effect a rescue was expected that night; the yeomen, therefore , and 
 the garrison , which it was to be lamented was very thin , remained 
 on tfoeir arms all night , and were so judiciously disposed as to 
 prevent the possibility of an insurrection." 
 
 Of* the melancholy close of lord Edward's days , I am enabled to 
 lay fcefore my readers all the minutest details , through the medium 
 of a correspondence, which took place immediately on his appre- 
 hension , between some of his nearest relatives and friends , a 
 correspondence as affecting as it has ever fallen to the lot of a bio- 
 grapher to put on record. It would be difficult, indeed, to find a 
 family more affectionately attached to each other than that of which 
 his lordship had been always the most beloved member ; and it is 
 only in language direct from such hearts , at the very moment of 
 suffering , that dismay and sorrow such as now fell upon them could 
 be at all adequately conveyed. Of one of the writers , Lady Louisa 
 Conolly, it is gratifying to be able to preserve some memorial beyond 
 that tradition of her many noble virtues which friendship has handed 
 down to us , and to the truth of which the amiable spirit that 
 breathes throughout her letters bears the amplest testimony. 
 
 In the accounts given in some of these letters of the circumstances 
 of the arrest, there willbefound mistakes and misstatements into which 
 the writers were naturally led by the hasty reports of the transaction 
 that reached them , but which the reader, acquainted as he is already 
 with the true facts of the case , will be able to detect and rectify. In 
 the desperate resistance which he made , Lord Edward had no other 
 weapon than a dagger, and the number of wounds he is said to have 
 inflicted with it on his two adversaries is such as almost to exceed 
 belief. This dagger was given by lord Clare, a day or two after the 
 arrest, to Mr. Urown , a gentleman well known and still living in 
 Dublin , who has , by some accident , lost it. He describes it to me, 
 however, as being about the length of a large case-knife , with a 
 common buckhandle , the blade, which was two edged, being of a 
 
 ' Musgrave's History of llic Rebellion.
 
 i 79 8. OF LORD KDWARD FITZGERALD n > 
 
 waved shape , like that of I he sword represented in the hands of the 
 angel in the common prints prefixed to the last Book of Paradise 
 Lost. 
 
 The rebel uniform , belonging to his lordship , which was found 
 at Murphy's, passed afterwards into the hands of Mr. Watson Taylor, 
 in whose possession it remained for some time , till the late Duke of 
 York , who had always been much attached to Lord Edward , and 
 had even offered, when made Com mander-in-Ch'ief , to restore him 
 to his rank in the army, having expressed a wish to possess so curious 
 a relic of his noble friend , Mr. Watson Taylor presented it to his 
 Royal Highness, and what has become of ij , since the Duke's 
 death , I have not been able to ascertain. 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OG1LVIE ESQ. ' 
 
 Castletov.n , May aist, 1798. 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE , 
 
 " I was too ill yesterday to write , but as there sailed no packet , 1 
 have an opportunity of letting my letter go now among the first , 
 with the sad narrative of Saturday night's proceedings. Which of 
 poor Edward's bad friends betrayed him , or whether, through the 
 vigilance of the town magistrates, he was apprehended at nine 
 o'clock that night , I know not , but , at a house in Thomas-street , 
 Mr. Serle, the town-major, Mr. Ryan (printer of Faulkener's 
 Journal), and Mr. Swan (a magistrate), got information of him, 
 and had a small party of soldiers to surround the house. Mr. Serle 
 was settling the party, and advised Ryan and Swan not to be in 
 haste -, but they hastily fan up stairs , and forced open the door 
 where he was asleep. He instantly fired a pistol at Mr. Ryan, who 
 we have this day h<5pes will recover. Upon Mr. Swan's approaching 
 him, he stabbed Mr. Swan with a dagger, but that wound is not 
 considered dangerous. 
 
 "Mr. Serle, upon hearing the resistance, ran up stairs, and 
 thinking that Edward was going to attack him , fired a pistol at 
 him , which wounded Edward in the shoulder, but not dangerously. 
 He was then carried prisoner to the Castle , where Mr. Stewart 
 ;the surgeon-general) was ordered to attend him. He dressed his 
 wound, and pronounces it not to be dangerous. Lord Camden had 
 ordered an apartment for him, but the magistrates claimed him , 
 on account of his having wounded their people. He was therefore 
 carried to Newgate , and , after the first burst of feeling was over, 
 I hear that he was quite composed. 
 
 ' Mr. Ogtlvie was, at this lime, in Loudon.
 
 luii MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 "Mr. Pakenhani has promised to inquire if lie wants any com- 
 fort or convenience that can be sent him in prison -, and I am going 
 to town this evening, meaning to see Mr. Stewart , the surgeon , to 
 know from him what may be wanted. I am also going for the pur- 
 pose of hearing whether this event makes any alteration in the 
 determinations respecting Lady Edward's leaving the country. If it 
 is necessary that she should still go, I shall wish to hurry her off, 
 and will in another letter write you more particulars about her. In 
 the mean time , I have had the satisfaction of hearing, that she bore 
 the shock yesterday belter than one could expect, and she had some 
 sleep last night. 
 
 " As soon as Edward's wound w r as dressed, he desired the private 
 secretary at the Castle (Mr. Watson, I believe, is the name) to 
 write for him to Lady Edward, and to tell her what had happened. 
 The secretary carried the note himself. Lady Edward was at Moira 
 House , and a servant of Lady Mountcashell's came soon after, to 
 forbid Lady Edward's servants saying any thing to her that night. 
 Poor Miss Napier, with my Emily, were at the play that night , 
 with Lady Castlereagh and Mrs. Pakenham , in the next box to the 
 Lord Lieutenant's, where the news was brought to him, and of 
 course the two poor girls heard it all. Miss Napier was so overcome 
 that Lady Castlereagh went out with her, and Miss Napier went 
 instantly to Moira House , knowing Lady Edward to be there. Lady 
 Moira forbid her telling her that night , so that Miss Napier made 
 some foolish pretence to go home with her, and she has never left 
 Lady Edward since. Mr. Pakenham made Louisa Pakenham keep 
 Emily in the box , as they feared that all running out of the box 
 might have the appearance of some riot ; and I believe it might be 
 better, but the poor little soul was wretched , as you may imagine. 
 The next morning (being yesterday), Miss^Napier told Lady 
 Edward , and she bore it better than she expected ; but Mr. Napier, 
 who went to town, brought us word that her head seemed still 
 deranged , and that no judgment could yet be formed about her. 
 He and Sarah are gone again this morning. I wait for the evening, 
 as I wish to go a little better prepared with advice than I could 
 hitherto have been. 
 
 " It is my intention to entreat for leave to see him (nobody has 
 been permitted to go since he was carried to Newgate), but I will 
 wait to see surgeon Stewart , and know first the state of his health , 
 and if he would like to see me. The trial , it is thought , will not 
 come on immediately, but as reports are the only information I have 
 upon that head, I shall postpone saying more until I am better 
 informed. My astonishment at finding that Edward was in Dublin 
 can only be equalled by his imprudence in being in it. I had felt
 
 T 79 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. I(i7 
 
 such security, at being sure of his having left, Dublin Bay. added in 
 the belief, from the Duke of Portland s office, that he had left the 
 English coast in a boat , that I scarcely felt slarlled when the Procla- 
 mation came out, though I began to wonder why it took place 
 now. 
 
 " I received yours of the 15lh yesterday morning, with the bad 
 account of the poor Duchess of Lcinster's stale of health. It affected 
 me, certainly, but under the impression of Edward's misfortune, 1 
 could feel no other equal to what that has brought upon us. I am 
 very sorry that the poor Duke still deceives himself about her. 
 
 ' This last week has been a most painful one to us. Maynoolh , 
 Kilcock, Leixlip, and Celbridge, have had part of a Scotch regi- 
 ment quartered at each place. living upon free quarters, and every 
 day threatening to burn the towns. I have spent days in entreaties 
 and threats , to give up the horrid pikes. Some houses burnt at Kil- 
 cock yesterday produced the effect. Maynoolh held out yesterday, 
 though some houses were burnt , and some people punished. This 
 morning, the people of Leixlip are bringing in their arms. Celbridire 
 as yet holds out, though five houses are now burning. Whether 
 obstinacy, or that they have them not, I cannot say, but you may 
 imagine what Mr. Conolly and I suffer. He goes about entreating to 
 the last , spent all yesterday out among them , and to-day is gone 
 again. He goes from Maynoolh to Leixlip and Celbridge , and begins 
 again and again to go round them. 
 
 " We have fortunately two most humane officers, that do not do 
 more than is absolutely necessary from Iheir orders. At present I 
 feel most prodigiously sunk with all Ihe surrounding distress, but I 
 am determined to exert myself, for the litlle use I may be of. II 
 ViOuld grieve you to see Mr. Conolly's good heart so wounded as 
 it is. 
 
 " Yours affectionately , 
 
 "L. C." 
 
 FROM COLONEL NAPIER TO WILLIA3I OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Dublin, May aist. 
 
 My DEAREST OGILVIE, 
 
 " 1 must trust to the manly firmness I know you possess, as the 
 only preface which can enable you to support the heavy intelligence 
 I am obliged to convey in this melancholy letter. Poor Lord Edward, 
 Deduced and betrayed, was arrested the night before last by three 
 men sent for the purpose , who took him after a desperate resistance, 
 in which he wounded two of them with a poniard, and was himself 
 shot in Ihe right arm . and bruised and cut in three pla'ces ofhis left.
 
 168 MEMOIRS 179*. 
 
 He was first carried to the Castle , and , after his wounds had been 
 dressed , removed to Lord Aldborough's room , in New gate , on the 
 requisition of the magistrates , as one of his opponents appeared to 
 be mortally wounded in the groin. However, this day it is found the 
 intestines are not hurt , and great hopes are entertained of his reco- 
 very. 
 
 "Lord Ross brought the dreadful intelligence toCastletown yes- 
 terday morning, and after a miserable scene, in which I feared 
 their violent hysterics would have ended fatally with both Lady 
 Louisa and Sarah , I set off for Dublin , but w r as peremptorily re- 
 fused to be allowed an interview with our unfortunate prisoner. I 
 next went to Geo. Stuart, who dressed his wounds , and attends 
 him , but , missing him , I went to the poor sufferer's wife ; who , 
 kept up by her spirits , bore her misfortunes like a heroine. Alas I 
 she does not know what I dread to be true , that government have 
 strong and even indubitable proofs of treason. It is in vain to dis- 
 semble : Geo. Ponsonby, who is to be Edward's counsel , in con- 
 junction with Curran , fears the event , at least if ministers produce 
 what they assert they possess. In short , my dear friend , no time 
 must be lost in applying to the King, or the catastrophe is I dare 
 not write what! As no packet sailed yesterday, I have waited till 
 now, that I might guard you against flying or malicious reports ; 
 for, among others, it was said yesterday, that Ryan, the man 
 wounded in the groin, was dead 5 and to-day, that Lord Edward 
 had a locked jaw, both which are utterly unfounded. 
 
 "I write this from Moira House. Opposite, in Thomas-street, 
 they are destroying the houses , and I expect , on my return , to find 
 Celbridge and Maynoot in ashes , as that was the 'Order of the day.' 
 I inclose this to my sister, who will direct Alexander to give it into 
 your own hand , as I dread and shudder at the thoughts of its effect 
 on your dear wife. Good God ! how my heart bleeds for her. I can't 
 write more : my breast is so very bad , and not relieved . you may 
 believe, by the scenes of misery I am every where witness to. I have, 
 however, the satisfaction of thinking , that neither parly can accuse 
 me of having abetted them , in thought , word , or deed ; and this 
 is no small consolation to an honest man. I hope poor dear intrepid 
 Lady Edward will go to England (where the Privy Council have 
 ordered her), as Ponsonby says she cannot be of any use here. 
 Adieu , my dear friend , for God's sake exert your fortitude , and 
 be prepared for the worst. 
 
 "I cannot write more , but I am 
 
 "Very, very sincerely yours. 
 
 "Lady Moira's kindness, in every sense of the word, has sur- 
 passed that of common mothers.
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 169 
 
 My sisler y at Ihe King's feel imploring a pardon on condition 
 of exile, may do more than all the politicians, lawyers, or exer- 
 tions in the whole world : let her try it instantly, and never quit 
 liiin (ill obtained : stop at no forms or refusals. Human nature must 
 give way. 
 
 "This is intended for the Duke of Leinster, and all the family, 
 none of us being able to write more." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO LADY SARAH NAPIER. 
 
 " May 2id, 1798. 
 "Mv DEAREST SAL, 
 
 "Poor Lady Edward is to go : when I brought her the passport 
 lliis morning, it threw her into sad distress, for she had hoped I 
 could prevail upon them to let her live in prison with him. Lord 
 Castlereagh told me, that it had been a determination , at the begin- 
 ning of all this particular business , not to admit the friends at all , 
 and that it had not been departed from in any one instance , and 
 that , if Mrs. Emmet saw her husband , it was by stealth , and con- 
 tr. ry to the most positive order. I tried for one day before she went ; 
 but that, Lady Edward says , she would not have ventured, on ac- 
 count of his wound, lest it should have caused him fever. Lindsay . 
 brought word to-day that he was better. Lady Edward will have her 
 choice of a Parkgate or Holyhead packet on Thursday morning, at 
 five o'clock. I shall, therefore, slay in Dublin till that lime, to 
 put her on board , to pay her the last little friendly office in my 
 power. 
 
 " In the House of Commons, to-day, the discovery of the con- 
 spiracy was announced , which they report to have been found out, 
 but just in due time , as this week was to have completed it. Two 
 men , of the name of Sheares , have been taken up ; in the pocket of 
 one of them a proclamation was found, intended for distribution after 
 that Dublin should be in their possession ; and in Mr. BraughaFs 
 pocket, a leller, addressed to him , saying , ' Get off as soon as 
 you can , for we are discovered.'' I vouch for nothing, but tell 
 you what I have heard ; and know nothing for certain , but my own 
 wretchedness. God bless you, dearest dear Sal. 
 
 "Ever yours, 
 
 "L. CONOLLY. 
 
 "Pray send Mrs. Staples word of my stay in town. 
 
 "I saw Mr. G. Ponsonby : he advised her going. I hear that 
 Mr. Curran does the same. 
 
 "Dear good Miss Napier, don't look ill. Surgeon Stewart is to 
 write constantly to Lady Edward an account of his health/'
 
 ITO MI.MOiRS 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Burlington House , 
 " Wednesday, May -25d, 1798, 1 1 A. M. 
 
 DEAR SIR , 
 
 " It is with infinite concern that I take upon myself to acquaint 
 you with the very melancholy circumstances which have attended 
 the apprehension of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. When Justice Swan , 
 attended by a Mr. Ryan, entered the room (at the house of one 
 Murphy, in the Liberty) where Lord Edward was in bed, Lord 
 Edward , who was armed .with a case of pistols and a dagger, stood 
 in his defence, shot Mr. Ryan in the stomach, and wounded 
 Mr. Swan with the dagger in two places. Major Sirr, on entering 
 the room , and observing Lord Edward with the dagger uplifted 
 in his hands , fired at him and wounded him in the arm of the hand 
 that held the weapon , upon which he was secured. Mr. Ryan's 
 wound is considered to be mortal : no apprehensions are entertained 
 for Mr. Swan's life. Upon so very melancholy and distressful a sub- 
 ject as this must be , it would as little become me as it can be neces- 
 sary, to assign reasons for this intrusion : the motives will speak for 
 themselves , and I need make no other appeal than to your candour 
 and to your feelings for my justification upon this distressful oc- 
 casion. 
 
 " I have the honour to be , 
 
 "Dear sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 " PORTLAND. " 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Goodwood, May 24th , 1798. 
 "MY DEAR SIR , 
 
 "I am much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken, at 
 a moment when you must have so much anxiety on your mind, to 
 communicate to me the very melancholy event of Lord Edward's 
 being taken , and the circumstances attending it. God grant that 
 Mr. Ryan may recover! 
 
 "I can easily conceive the oppression of my poor sister's mind; 
 for although I know that she possesses great fortitude, none can 
 stand under the sort of misery with which she may be afflicted. It is 
 in vain to offer anv assistance or comfort \vheiv none can be of any
 
 i 7y 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. in 
 
 avail ; but she may be assured that no one can sympathize more 
 sincerely in her misfortune than I do. 
 "Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 " Ever most sincerely yours , 
 
 " RICHMOND, etc. 
 
 P. S. I have sent your letter to Lord Bathurst and Captain 
 Berkeley who are at Wood End. 
 
 'I read a case a few days ago in the newspapers, in which Lord 
 kenyon is said to have expressed , very strongly, his opinion how 
 much it was the duty of any officer executing a warrant to declare 
 who he was, and his authority; otherwise, what dreadful conse- 
 quences might ensue by a resistance supposed to be justifiable! 
 
 " If it should turn out that the persons who arrested Lord Edward 
 did not declare their authority, this speech of Lord Kenyon's from 
 the bench, of which you may easily get a correct minute, might 
 be useful. 
 
 " The letters of to-day were brought by Hyde , the messenger : if 
 you should wish to ask him any questions , he will certainly not re- 
 turn sooner than to-morrow." 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Thursday morning , a 4th May, 1798. 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Give me leave to assure you, that I am much gratified by the 
 reception my unfortunate intrusion of yesterday met with from you. 
 1 \\ ish I could in any degree relieve your anxiety by the accounts 1 
 have received to-day : they are of the 20th, and state no new unfa- 
 vourable symptoms; but I must not conceal from you, that they 
 give no belter hopes of Mr. Ryan's recovery than the letters of 
 the 19th. 
 
 "I am, dear sir, 
 
 "Your very faithful and obedient servant, 
 "PORTLAND." 
 
 F1U)M THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "Whitehall, Friday. >JUi May, 1798. 
 
 MY LORD , 
 
 I have the honour of your lordship s letter, in which you desire 
 me to give you an order to be admitted to Lord Edward Fitzgerald . 
 whom you are going over to Ireland for the purpose of visiting. I am
 
 172 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 therefore to inform your lordship, thai as Lord Edward is not under 
 confinement in consequence of a warrant issued by me , I have not 
 the power of complying with your request. 
 
 "I have the honour to be , 
 
 "My Lord, 
 
 " Your lordship's most obedient and humble servant, 
 
 "PORTLAND." 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF PORTLAND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Whitehall, Friday, a5th May, 1798, 
 " Half past 4, P. M. 
 
 ; DEAR SIR, 
 
 "I have the pleasure of acquainting you, that since I left St. 
 James's , I have been assured by a person whose accuracy may be 
 depended upon , that he has seen private letters , but of high autho- 
 rity, of the 21st , from Dublin , which state , that though Mr. Ryan's 
 wound is a very dangerous one , it is not considered to be necessarily 
 mortal. 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 "PORTLAND." 
 
 FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Saturday morning , 26th May, 1798. 
 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " By a letter, dated the 22d, I am informed that Lord Edward 
 remains in the same state : that though the ball is not yet extracted , 
 the surgeon who attends him does not think the wound dangerous ; 
 and that great hopes are entertained of Mr. Ryan's recovery. 
 
 "I am , sir, 
 "Your faithful humble servant, 
 
 "PORTLAND." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Gastletown , June ist, 1798. 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE , 
 
 "I have this instant received your two letters of the 26th and 28th 
 of May, and have written*to Lord Castlereagh, to entreat for the 
 order of silence in the papers. I trust it will be complied with , 
 because it cannot impede the course of justice ; and , if I may .in dire 
 by dear Lord Castlereagh's distress about all this business, I fancy
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 173 
 
 government mean to soften the distress as much as possible , and of 
 course will accede to a thing that cannot counteract justice. 
 
 " I am so entirely of your opinion about dear Edward, that his 
 heart could never be brought to the guilt imputed to him , that 1 
 begin to rest my afflicted soul in hope, and do not yet give it up; 
 though it was a sad blow to me , yesterday, to year of Ryan's death. 
 It is said he died of a fever ; but when once all the circumstances of 
 that affray come to be known , I do verily believe , that it can only 
 be brought in manslaughter, in his own defence. However, in the 
 confused state that all thingtfpre in , and the mystery that involves 
 the truth, every new thing creates doubt and alarm. I have also 
 written to Lord Castlereagh, to know the mode of proceeding now; 
 for upon the idea of Ryan's recovery, he had told me, that trial was 
 out of the question. 
 
 " Louisa Pakenham , who sees Doctor Lindsay every day, sends 
 me constant accounts of dear Edward , w ho suffers less ; and the ac- 
 counts of yesterday are belter than I have had yet, as his appetite and 
 sleep were better. But Lindsay cannot pronounce him out of danger 
 until the balls are extracted , which is not yet the case, though the 
 discharge one day was so great as to make him expect it. The warm 
 weather has been against him. 
 
 "My two letters to poor Lady Edward , directed to you, contained 
 all the accounts concerning him, which made it unnecessary to write 
 to you. I long to hear of her arrival in London , and whether she will 
 have permission to remain there. I hope the Duke of Portland w ill 
 let her slay. I must , for ever and ever, repeat my firm belief of her 
 innocence, as far as acts of treason. That she should know dear 
 Edward's opinions , and endeavour to secrete him w hen in danger 
 of being taken, I easily believe-, and where is the wife that would 
 not do so? As Mr. Conolly justly says , no good man can ever impute 
 t/iat as guilt in her. However I believe that under the illiberal pre- 
 judice that has been against her, as a Frenchwoman , ever since she 
 came to Ireland , and which has much increased upon this occasion , 
 I believe it was safer to send her to England. God bless her, poor 
 soul! She is to be pitied more than can be expressed; and I never 
 knew how much I loved her, still she became so unfortunate. 
 
 "I wrote word in my last, that Edward had made his will. Lieu- 
 tenant Stone, of the Derry Militia, has been appointed to stay with 
 him : he is a good man , and I hear that Edward is pleased w ilh him , 
 and got him to w rite his will , which Stewart and Lindsay signed. I 
 hear that dear Henry is just landed : I am very glad of it. I felt sure 
 he would come , but I thought you would slay with my poor 
 sister. Oh, good God! what is to become of her? I hardly dared 
 read your loiters this morning. Her wish l<> come over. I also ex-
 
 17 i MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 peeled } and it is so natural , that 1 think it must be the best for her, 
 and yet I dare not advise. The trial , I hear, is to be the -20th of 
 next month. I shall beg of Lord Castlereagh , when he sends this 
 letter, to tell you as many particulars as he can upon that subject. 
 And now, my dear Mr. Ogilvie , that I have said all I know about 
 him, I must inform you of the dreadful state of this country. 
 
 ''The pities prove the intended mischief to any body's understand- 
 ing , without being in the secrets of either government or the United 
 Men, and the rebellion is actually begun. The north, south, and 
 west , are perfectly quiet , and we ha^ every reason to believe the 
 militia are true to the existing government ; so that Leinster is the 
 province devoted to scenes of bloodshed and misery. As yet, there 
 does not appear to be any leader that can be dangerous , and their 
 depending on numbers ( which they endeavour to collect by force , 
 as they pass through the country), shows great want of skill; for 
 the numbers must embarrass instead of assisting , and the conse- 
 quence has been , the loss of hundreds of those poor creatures . 
 who confess they do not know what they are going to fight for. 
 
 * * * i 
 
 " There have been several skirmishes in this neighbourhood ; two 
 hundred of them forced through our gates , and passed across our 
 front lawn , at three o'clock on Saturday morning last , the 26lh , 
 when I saw them-, but they went through quietly. However, it is 
 thought prudent to put our house into a state of defence : we are 
 about it now, and we shall remain in it. If I had not for ever ex- 
 perienced the goodness of God upon trying occasions , I should be 
 at a loss to account for my total want of feeling, as to personal 
 danger 5 but, knowing His mercy, I feel at this moment a safer 
 natural strength , that can only be sent me from Him. 
 
 "My heart is almost borne down with what I feel about dear 
 Edward and the family. His mother and wife are two sores that I 
 can find no balm for; and I sometimes am almost sinking under it, 
 but I do not let it get so much the better of me, as not to think of 
 every thing that can serve him ; but , alas ! how little is in my power, 
 being in no secrets whatever. 
 
 "But to return to the rebels : they have a camp at Blackmore 
 Hill , near Rusborough-, are in possession of Lord Miltown's house, 
 another camp at Tarah , and another at Staplelown , near the Bog 
 of Allen. At Dunboyne, the first breaking out appeared ; and the 
 town is burnt down all to a few houses. Mr. Conolly tells me , that 
 the destruction in the county from Sallins to Kilcullen bridge made 
 
 1 The passages omitted contain some local details respecting the rebellion , 
 which wonld not now he read with any interest.
 
 179 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 175 
 
 him sick, and that many years cannot restore the mischief. We 
 are happy in having been able to preserve Celbridge , and the poor 
 people , I trust, will find that we are their best friends at last. You 
 may be sure that we are protecting them to the best of our power. 
 God bless you. I will endeavour to keep a journal of what passes 
 here : I shall pretend to no more, for I can know but little of what 
 passes in Dublin. 
 
 ''Yours affectionately, 
 
 "L. O'CONOLLY/ 
 
 The mutual affection by which the whole Leinsler family were so 
 remarkably bound together was even more warm between Lord 
 Edward and Lord Henry than between any of its other members. 
 ' Dear Harry ! he is perfect ' ," was the enthusiastic feeling which 
 Lord Edward no less sincerely entertained than he thus strongly 
 expressed and which was answered with a corresponding warmth 
 on the part of his brother. When millions, therefore, were mourning 
 the fate of the gallant Edward , what must have been the sorrow of 
 one so near, and so devoted to him? Soon after the dreadful ne\\s 
 reached him. Lord Henry hurried over to Dublin, resolved to share 
 the sufferer's prison and be his attendant and nurse. But, by a stern- 
 ness of policy which it seems impossible to justify, even the privilege 
 of a single interview with his brother was denied to him ; and he was 
 left, day alter day, in a slate of anguish only to be conceived by those 
 who knew the strength of his affections, to implore this favour of the 
 Lord Lieutenant and his advisers in vain. The following is one of the 
 answers which he received to his applications : 
 
 FROM THE EARL OF CLARE TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Ely Place, Sunday, 5 o'clock. 
 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you , that it will be impossible, for Jhe present, 
 to comply with your wishes ; and if I could explain to you the grounds 
 of this restriction , even you would hardly be induced to condemn it 
 as unnecessarily harsh. 
 
 Always very truly yours, 
 " My dear Lord , 
 
 "CLARE, C." 
 
 This resolution, so harshly persevered in, not to suffer any of 
 Lord Edward's own friends to see him, is rendered still worse 
 by the fact that, in some instances, the government relaxed this rule 
 of exclusion; and I have been told by Mr. Brown, a gentleman 
 
 1 See a letter of Lord Edward's, at page 73.
 
 176 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 already mentioned , as having received from Lord Clare the 
 present of Lord Edward's dagger,, that, through the favour of 
 the same nobleman , he was himself, a day or two after the arrest , 
 admitted to the noble prisoner. This gentleman's father was , it 
 seems , the landlord of the house in which the fatal event occurred , 
 and having a desire to speak with Murphy, on the subject of the 
 lease, he procured an order of admission from Lord Clare , to which 
 was added also a permission to see Lord Edward. Having first visited 
 the unfortunate Murphy he proceeded to Lord Edward's room, where 
 he found his right of entrance contested fay two ruffianly-looking 
 members of Beresford's corps of yeomanry, who were there stand- 
 ing , with their swords drawn, beside the bed of the sufferer. On his 
 showing the order, however, from Lord Clare , he was admitted'; 
 and having mentioned, in the few minutes' conversation he had with 
 Lord Edward, that he had just been in Murphy's room, his lordship, 
 with his usual kindness of feeling, recollecting the blow he had seen 
 Swan give to his host with the pistol , said , "in a faint voice, " And 
 how is poor Murphy's face? " 
 
 Even for the purpose of drawing up his Will , which took place 
 on the 27th of May, no person at all connected with his own family 
 was allowed to have access to him ; and Mr. John Leeson, who exe- 
 cuted the instrument , sat in a carriage at the door of the prison , 
 while Mr. Stewart, the government surgeon, communicated between 
 him and the prisoner during the transaction. The following is the 
 Sketch of the Will indited under such circumstances : 
 
 " I, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, do make this as my last Will and 
 Testament, hereby revoking all others : that is to say, I leave all 
 estates, of whatever sort, I may die possessed of, to my wife, Lady 
 Pamela Fitzgerald, as a mark of my esteem , love , and confidence in 
 her, for and during her natural life, and op her death to descend , 
 share and share alike , to my children or the survivors of them ; she 
 maintaining and educating the children according to her discretion ; 
 and I constitute her executrix of this my last Will and Testament. 
 Signed, sealed, and delivered, May the 26th , 1798. 
 
 " In presence of '." 
 
 During this painful interval, the anxiety of Lord Edward's friends 
 in England was, as the following letters will show, no less intense and 
 active. The letter from the late King will be found to afford an 
 amiable instance of that sort of good-nature which formed so atoning 
 an ingredient in his character. While, with the world in general, 
 it seems to be a rule to employ towards living kings the language 
 only of praise, reserving all the licence of censure to be let loose upon 
 
 1 The signatures to the instrument itself were, "Alex. Lindsay, Gco. Stewart, 
 and Sinn. Stoue."
 
 1798 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 177 
 
 them when dead , it is some pleasure to reverse this safe, but rather 
 ignoble policy, and, after having shocked all the loyal and the courlly 
 by speaking with more (ruth than prudence of his late Majesty when 
 living, to render justice now to the few amiable qualities which he 
 possessed , at a lime when censure alone is heard , over his grave, 
 from others. Seldom , indeed , were the kindlier feelings of George 
 the Fourth more advantageously exhibited than on the subject of 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald; not only at the time of which we are 
 speaking , when , on his first interview with the afflicted mother of 
 his noble friend , he is said to have wept with all the tenderness of a 
 woman in speaking of him, but at a much later period, when it was 
 in his power , as monarch , to perform an act of humane justice to- 
 wards Lord Edward's offspring , which , both as monarch and man , 
 reflects the highest honour upon him. 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " V\ hitrhall, June 5th, 1798. 
 
 " MY DEAR HENRY, 
 
 " Your poor wife has been with me, much alarmed, this morning, 
 at the idea that your generous , but I must say, imprudent offer, of 
 sharing your brother's prison would be allowed of. She very justly 
 fears that it would materially hurt your health, and expose you 
 to many dangers ; but we trust more to other reasons than those 
 which are personal to yourself, to hope you will abandon that plan, 
 and those are what you yourself state , namely, that some friends 
 think you could be much more useful out than in prison. In it you 
 would do no other good than afford a comfort to his mind , which , 
 thank God, has fortitude enough to support itself under aU its present 
 pressures; but, out, you may be of essential service to him, by a 
 calm and prudent behaviour, which will make you listened to when 
 you represent how impossible it is for him , under the bodily pains 
 he suffers, and the debility they must leave on his mind, to do him- 
 self justice on his trial ; that the very ends of justice would be 
 defeated, by arraigning a man , who, from illness, is not capable of 
 defending himself-, as the object of justice such as it is the glory of 
 our constitution to distribute, is to give a prisoner every fair means 
 of defence ; that, independently of his bodily and mental complaints, 
 the present state of Ireland , in which men of all descriptions must 
 have their minds much agitated, and their passions stirred with just 
 resentment against the attacks on the constitution , affords no room 
 to hope for that calm, dispassionate, and fair investigation of truth, 
 which is so necessary to make justice loved and respected ; and that 
 
 12
 
 178 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 therefore a delay of liis trial seems necessary to give him fair play, 
 and to convince the world, that, if he is found guilty, he really is so-, 
 for, tried under all the present circumstances of his illness, and the 
 temper of the times, it will never be believed that he was fairly 
 convicted, if such should be the issue of a trial now carried on. 
 
 " But there is another point of view in which it appears to me 
 that it will be impossible to try him now , and that is the existence 
 of Martial Law at this moment in Dublin. While that subsists , all 
 other law must be silent , and we arc told that , in consequence of 
 it , the judges have shut up the courts , and will not try Ihc common 
 suits. With how much more reason must it then be objected , to try 
 a prisoner for his life , for crimes alleged on the very subject that 
 has caused the existence of Martial Law ; and , while it exists , how 
 can any juryman , or any witness , or indeed the judges themselves , 
 feel that they are safe , when they may be taken out of court , or 
 seized the moment they quit it, and be flogged or hanged at the 
 will of the military ! I am not saying any thing against these mea- 
 sures : they may have been deemed necessary ; nor do I suppose 
 that government would , by their power, influence a judge , juror, 
 or witness ; but the fear that underlings may, will produce the same 
 effect , and make men afraid to speak truth that may not be accept- 
 able , lest they should be considered and treated as marked men , 
 and justice will of course not be free. 
 
 " No mischief can arise from a delay. Your brother cannot es- 
 cape $ and , whatever may be his fate , government itself will gain 
 infinitely more credit by postponing his trial till the limes can 
 afford a fair one , than by hurrying it on , as if they thought they 
 could not convict him but through passion and prejudice. 
 
 "I have been with Mr. Pitt, and stated the substance of these 
 arguments to him , and , with his approbation , have stated them to 
 the lord-lieutenant, in whose justice and moderation I have too 
 much confidence not to believe but that they will have weight. Don't 
 show this letter, so as to make it a topic of conversation , which 
 might do more harm than good : but I have no objection to your 
 making use of it where you think it can be of any real use. 
 
 " Good God ! how different will the proceedings in Ireland be 
 from the humane laws of this country in criminal cases , which here , 
 in times of profound peace , remove even the appearance of all mili- 
 tary from the town where the assizes arc held , lest their being there 
 should be supposed to cause the smallest influence, how different 
 from a trial in a court , at the doors of which any man nr-y be in- 
 stantaneously hanged fay the military, without trial ! But I convince 
 myself the thing is impossible, and that a reasonable delay, and 
 certainly till Martial Law ceases, will be allowed.
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD f79 
 
 "Adieu, my dear Henry; you will hear from others that your 
 mother sets off to-morrow for Ireland. Her fortitude adds a respect 
 and dignity to her sufferings that I think no heart can resist. 
 " Adieu ! heaven ever bless and protect you. 
 "I am, ever, 
 
 " Your most affectionate uncle , 
 
 " RICHMOND, etc." 
 
 FROM HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS , GEORGE, PRINCE OF W \LK> 
 TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Carlton- house, June 6. 1798; 
 Three-quarters past 5 , P.M. 
 
 -.MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 ' I feel so truly for the Duchess and the unfortunate Edward, 
 that I am sure there is nothing in the world I would not attempt 
 to mitigate the pangs , which I am afraid but too much distress her 
 grace at the present dreadful crisis. I would , were I in the habit of 
 so doing, most undoubtedly write to Lord Clare; though, even 
 were that the case , I should hesitate as to the propriety of so doing , 
 thinking that such an application to the Chancellor might be sub- 
 ject to misconstruction , and consequently detrimental to Lord Ed- 
 ward's interests. But I have no hesitation in allowing you to state 
 to his lordship how much pleased I shall be , and how much I am 
 sensible it w ill conciliate to him the affections of every humane and 
 delicate mind , if every opportunity is given to poor Lord Edward 
 to obtain an impartial trial , by delaying it till his state of health 
 shall be so recruited as to enable him to go through the awful scene 
 with fortitude ' ; and until the minds of men have recovered their 
 usual lone , so absolutely necessary for the firm administration of 
 justice. 
 
 ' ; This , my dear sir, I have no scruple to admit of your staling 
 in confidence , and w ilh my best compliments , to the lord chan- 
 cellor. My long and sincere regard for both the Duchess and Duke 
 of Leinster w ould have naturally made me wish to exert myself still 
 more , were I not afraid by such exertion I might do more harm 
 than good. 
 
 " Excuse this scrawl, which I pen in the utmost hurry, fearing 
 that you may have left London before this reaches Harley-street. I 
 am , dear sir, with many compliments to the Duchess, 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 " GEORGE P. 
 
 " William Ogilvie, Esq." 
 
 ' It v<\}\ be seen by a subsequent letter that the Dnke of York exerted himself 
 with such zeal, on this point, that he succeeded in obtaining the Royal consent to 
 a delay of the trial.
 
 ISO MEMOIRS 1-98. 
 
 FROM THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES J. FOX TO LORD HENRY FITZ- 
 GERALD. 
 
 " St. Anue's-hill , June 7. 
 
 " DEAR LORD HENRY, 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear so bad an account of poor dear 
 Edward's wounds , which give me much more apprehension than 
 his trial , if he is to have a fair one. I understand from Lady Henry 
 that you wish his friends to go to Dublin. I am sure you will not 
 suspect me of a wish to save myself , on such an occasion , and , 
 therefore , I have no difficulty in saying that I think , and that upon 
 much reflection , that my going is far more likely to be hurtful 
 than serviceable to him ; but if you and Mr. Ponsonby, his counsel , 
 think otherwise , I will set out whenever you think it necessary. 
 Ill as I think of the Irish government, I cannot help hoping that the 
 trials will be put off for some lime at least , from a consideration of 
 their own reputation. At any rate, the time between the arraignment 
 and the trial will, I suppose, be sufficient to send for such of us as you 
 wish. 
 
 " If you see my dear, dear Edward, I need not desire you to 
 tell him that I love him with the warmest affection. When I hear of 
 the fortitude with which he has borne his sufferings, I hear no more 
 than what I expected from him, though from him only could I have 
 looked for so much. God bless you, my dear cousin ! 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 " C. J. Fox." 
 
 Except as some comfort to the wounded hearts of his survivors , 
 this sympathy was now unavailing. A day or two before these let- 
 ters, so creditable to the feelings that dictated them , were written, 
 the gallant spirit of him who was the object of all this tenderness 
 had been released from its pains. Through the following memoran- 
 dums , which I find in Lord Henry's hand-writing , may be traced 
 more touchingly than in the most elaborate narrative the last stages 
 of his suffering. 
 
 " Has he got fruit? docs he want linen? 
 
 " How will the death of R. (Ryan) affect him? 
 
 " What informers are supposed to be against him? 
 
 " Upon his pain subsiding the hearing of Ryan's death (which he 
 must have heard) caused a dreadful turn in his mind. 
 
 " Affected strongly on the 2d of June began to be ill about 3- 
 Clinch executed before the prison. He must have known of it 
 asked what the noise was.
 
 i :9 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. isi 
 
 " 2d of June, in the evening, was in the greatest danger. 
 
 "Mr. Stone, the oflicer that attended him, removed the 2d of 
 June could not learn who was next put about him. 
 
 2d of June , in the evening , a keeper from a madhouse put w ilh 
 him but finding him belter in the night, left him. 
 
 " June 3d, exhausted, but composed. 
 
 "3d of June, wrote Chancellor a pressing letter to see E. ' 
 
 The answer of the Chancellor to the application here mentioned 
 was as follows : 
 
 FROM THE EARL OF CLARE TO LORD HENRY FITZGEKALU. 
 
 " Ely-place, June 5d, 1798. 
 
 "Mv DEAR LORD, 
 
 "Be assured that it is not in my power to procure admission for 
 you to Lord Edward. You will readily believe that Lord Camden's 
 situation is critical in the extreme. The extent and enormity of the 
 treason which has occasioned so many arrests make it essentially 
 necessary, for the preservation of the State, that access should be 
 denied to the friends of all the persons now in confinement for 
 treason. Judge , then , my dear lord , the situation in which Lord 
 Camden will be placed, if this rule is dispensed with in one instance. 
 Mr. Sle\\art has just now left me, and from his account of Lord 
 Edward , he is in a situation which threatens his life. Perhaps , if 
 he should get into such a stale as will justify it, your request may 
 be complied with ; and believe me , it will give me singular satis- 
 faction if you can be gratified. You may rest assured that his wound 
 is as well attended to as it can be. 
 
 "Yours always , truly, my dear lord, 
 
 "CLARE." 
 
 On the same day the following letter from a fellow-prisoner of 
 Lord Edward was written : 
 
 FROM MR. MATTHEW DOWLIMG TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Newgate, 3d June. 
 
 "MY LORD , 
 
 "Having, in happier days, had some success and much satis- 
 faction in being concerned for vou and Mr. G- rattan on the city 
 eleclioii , 1 take (he liberty of writing to inform you that your bro- 
 Iher, Lord Edward , is most dangerously ill in fact dying he was
 
 182 MEMOIRS 1798, 
 
 delirious some time last night. Surely, my lord, some attention 
 ought to be paid him. I know you'll pardon this application. 
 
 " I am yours. 
 " With respect and regard . 
 
 "MATT. BOWLING. 
 
 " I am a prisoner a few days , on what charge , I know not. 
 " He is now better, and has called for a chicken for dinner. 
 
 " Past -j. 
 
 "Seeing you, or any friend he has confidence in, would, I 
 think , be more conducive to his recovery than 50 surgeons. I saw 
 him a few moments last night but he did not know me \\e'll 
 watch him as well as is in our power." 
 
 On the night of the 3d of June , it having become manifest that 
 the noble prisoner could not survive many hours, the hearts of 
 those in authority , at length , relented , and Lord Henry and Lady 
 Louisa Conolly were permitted to take a last look of their dying re- 
 lative. 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Dublin, June 4th, 1798. 
 
 "MY DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " At two o'clock this morning, our beloved Edward was at peace; 
 and , as the tender and watchful mercy of God is ever over the af- 
 flicted , we have reason to suppose this dissolution took place at the 
 moment that it was fittest it should do so. On Friday night, a very 
 great lowness came on , that made those about him consider him 
 much in danger. On Saturday, he seemed to have recovered the 
 attack, but on that night was again attacked with spasms, that 
 subsided again yesterday morning. But, in the course of the day, 
 Mrs. Pakenham (from whom I had my constant accounts) thought 
 it best to send an express for me. I came to town , and got leave to 
 go, with my poor dear Henry, to see him. 
 
 "Thanks to the great God! our visit was timed to the moment 
 that the wretched situation allowed of. His mind had been agitated 
 for two days , and the feeling was enough gone , not to be overcome 
 by the sight of his brother and me. We had the consolation of seeing 
 and feeling that it was a pleasure to him. I first approached his bed-: 
 he looked at me , knew me , kissed me , and said ( what will never 
 depart from my ears ) , 'It is heaven to me to see you ! ' and , 
 shortly after, turning to the other side of his bed , he said , ' I can't 
 see you.' I went round, and he soon after kissed my hand, and smiled
 
 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 1S3 
 
 at me, which 1 shall never forget, though I saw death in his dear 
 face at the time. I then told him that Henry was come. He said no- 
 thing that marked surprise at his being in Ireland , but expressed 
 joy at hearing it , and said , ' Where is he , dear fello\\ ? ' 
 
 " Henry then look my place, and the two dear brothers frequently 
 embraced each other, to the melting a heart of stone; and yet God 
 enabled both Henry and myself to remain quite composed. As every 
 one left the room, we told him we only were with him. He said, 
 k That is very pleasant.' However, he remained silent, and I then 
 brought in the subject of Lady Edward , and told him that I had 
 not left her until I saw her on board ; and Henry told him of having 
 met her on the road well. He said , k And the children too? She is 
 a charming woman : ' and then became silent again. That expres- 
 sion about Lady Edward proved to me , that his senses were much 
 lulled , and that he did not feel his situation to be what it was ; but , 
 thank God ! they were enough alive to receive pleasure from seeing 
 his brother and me. Dear Henry, in particular, he looked at con- 
 tinually with an expression of pleasure. 
 
 " When we left him , we told him . that as he appeared inclined 
 to sleep , we would wish him a good night , and return in the morn- 
 ing. He said , k Do , do ; ' but did not express any uneasiness at our 
 leaving him. We accordingly lore ourselves away, and very shortly 
 after Mr. Garnet ( the surgeon that attended him for the two days , 
 upon the departure of Mr. Stone , the officer that had been con- 
 stantly with him ) sent me word thai the last convulsions soon came 
 on . and ended at two o'clock , so that we were within two hours 
 and a half before the sad close to a life we prized so dearly l . He 
 sometimes said , fc I knew it must come to this , and we must all go-,' 
 and then rambled a little about militia , and numbers ; but upon my 
 saving to him , l It agitates you to talk upon those subjects ," he said, 
 ; Well , I won't/ 
 
 l ' I hear that he frequently composed his dear mind with prayer, 
 was vastly devout, and, as late as yesterday evening, got Mr. Gar- 
 iicl , the surgeon , to read in the Bible the death of Christ, the sub- 
 ject picked out by himself, and seemed much composed by it. In 
 short , my dear Mr. Ogilvie , we have every reason to Ihink that his 
 mind was made up to his situation ; and can look to his present 
 happy slate with thanks for his release. Such a heart and such a 
 
 ' Thf following is Mr. Garnet's note announcing the event: 
 
 Six o'clock, June 3d, 1798. 
 
 " Mr. Garnet presents his most respectful compliments to Lady Louisa Conolly, 
 ;mil begs leave to communicate to her the melancholy intelligence of Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald's death. He drew his last breatli at two o'clock this morning, 
 after a struggle that began soon after his friends left him last night."
 
 184 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 mind may meet his God ! The friends that he was entangled with 
 pushed his destruction forward, screening themselves behind his va- 
 luable character. God bless you ! The ship is just sailing , and Henry 
 puts this into the post at Holyhead. 
 
 ' ' Ever yours , 
 
 "L. C." 
 
 From the heart-breaking scene here described Lord Henry hur- 
 ried off, instantly, to Holyhead, and from thence , in the agony of 
 the moment , addressed a long letter to Lord Camden , of which it 
 would be injustice to both parlies to lay the whole before the world; 
 the noble writer being at the time in a state of excitement that 
 left him scarcely the master of his own thoughts , while in the gross, 
 gratuitous cruelty which marked, on this, as on all other occasions, 
 the conduct of the Irish government, Lord Camden had no further 
 share than what arose out of the lamentable weakness with which he 
 surrendered his own bumaner views to the over-ruling violence of 
 others. This vindication of his lordship, if vindication it can be 
 called , to defend thus his humanity at the expense of his good sense 
 was brought forward , during the very heat of the crisis itself, by 
 one who best knew the real authors of that system of governing from 
 the guilt of which he so far exonerated his Chief. In boasting of the 
 success of those measures of coercion which had been adopted by 
 the Irish government , Lord Clare expressly avowed , in the House 
 of Lords, that they, "were , to his knowledge, exto?*ted from the 
 nobleman who governed that country." 
 
 To this best of all testimonies, on such a point, is to be added 
 also the evidence of Sir Ralph Abercrombie , who always declared , 
 that in every suggestion which he had , in his own capacity , ten- 
 dered to the Irish Cabinet , recommending the adoption of a more 
 liberal and conciliatory policy, he had been invariably supported in 
 the Council by Lord Camden 5 though , when matters came to a de- 
 cision , the more violent spirits carried it their own way, and the 
 sanction of the Lord Lieutenant was thus yielded to a course of mea- 
 sures which , in his heart , he disapproved. For these reasons , as 
 well as from a sincere admiration of the disinterestedness which , as 
 a public servant , this nobleman has displayed , I most willingly ex- 
 punge from Lord Henry's letter all such expressions as , though 
 natural in his slate of feeling , at the moment , appear to me un- 
 deservedly harsh towards the noble person to whom they are ap- 
 plied.
 
 1798. OF LORD ED\VARD FITZGERALD. 186 
 
 FROM LORD HENRY FITZGERALD TO THE EARL OF CAMDEN. 
 
 "Mv LORD, 
 
 " A little removed from scenes of misery and wretchedness scarcely 
 to be equalled , I feel myself, thank God! sufficiently composed to 
 write you this letter. I owe it to the memory of a beloved , I may 
 almost say an adored brother. An uncommon affection , from our 
 childhood , subsisted between us ; such a one as* * *. The purport 
 of this , however, is not to give a loose to reproaches alone, but to 
 state to you, and to the world* * * supported by facts. A full cata- 
 logue of them would take up many pages ; mine is very short. Many 
 indignities offered to him I shall for the present pass over in silence , 
 and begin from the time of my arrival in Ireland , which was last 
 Thursday. 
 
 "Surgeon Lindsay, who attended my brother with surgeon 
 Stewart , told me , when I really had imagined my brother to be in a 
 recovering slate , that , a few days before , he had been dangerously 
 ill : ' apprehensive of a lock jaw ' was his expression ; and that he 
 had been consulted about the breast. I also learned that he had made 
 his will, etc. Mr. Lindsay added , ' But, however, he is now much 
 better ; ' and told me , also , that the wounds were going on well , 
 and that he did not apprehend any danger from them. When I came 
 to inquire into the circumstances relating to the signing of the will 
 from others , I flnd this suffering , dying man , was not even allowed 
 to see his lawyer, a young man he put confidence in , but the paper 
 was handed , first in , and then out of the prison , through the hands 
 of the surgeons. Possibly he might have had little or nothing to say 
 to his lawyer, but a decent consideration of his situation ought to 
 have left him a choice of seeing him or not. 
 
 "Thus , situated as he was , who would have thought , my lord , 
 but that upon my arrival , you would yourself have urged me to see 
 him? * * After this came my audience of your Excellency : * * 
 I implored , I entreated of you , to let me see him. I never begged 
 hard before. All, all in vain! you talked of lawyers' opinions ; of 
 \\hal had been refused to others , and could not be granted for me 
 in the same situation. His was not a common case ; he was not in 
 the same situation : he was wounded , and in a manner dying , and 
 his bitterest enemy could not have murmured , had your heart been 
 softened , or had you swerved a little from duty ( if it can be called 
 one) in the cause of humanity. 
 
 "On Friday, the surgeon told me still that the wounds were going 
 on \\oll ; but that he perceived, as the pain subsided, (hat his mind 
 was more than usually en^ed. He felt ill treatment. * * * * but
 
 186 MEMOIRS I79 8. 
 
 he communed with his God , and his God did not forsake him. But, 
 oh ! my lord, what a day was Saturday for him ! *****. On Sa- 
 turday, my poor forsaken brother, who had but that night and the * 
 next day to live , was disturbed ; he heard the noise of the execu- 
 tion of Clinch , at the prison door. He asked, eagerly, l What noise 
 is that ? ' and certainly in some manner or other he knew it ; for, 
 
 God ! what am I to write? from that time he lost his senses : 
 most part of the night he was raving mad, a keeper from a mad- 
 house was necessary. Thanks to the Almighty, he got more composed 
 towards morning. 
 
 " Now, my lord , shall I scruple to declare to the world , I wish 
 
 1 could to the four quarters of it ! that amongst you, your ill-treat- 
 ment has murdered my brother, as much as if you had put a pistol 
 to his head. In this situation no charitable message arrives to his 
 relations , no offer to allow attached servants to attend upon him , 
 who could have been depended upon in keeping dreadful news of 
 all sorts from him. No , no 5 to his grave , in madness , you would 
 pursue him , to his grave you persecuted him. 
 
 tC One would think I could add no more, but I have not yet done. 
 At this very time , a Mr. Stone, an officer, that was in the room with 
 him , whom they tell me he grew fond of and liked , was removed , 
 and a total stranger put about him. Are you aware, my lord, of the 
 comfort, of the happiness , of seeing well-known faces round the bed 
 of sickness, and the cruelty of the reverse? or, have you hitherto 
 been so much a stranger to the infirmities of this mortal life, as never 
 to have known what it was to feel joy in pain, or cheerfulness in sor- 
 row, from the pressure of a friend's hand , or the kind looks of rela- 
 tions? yet he, my lord, possessed as he was of the tenderness of a 
 woman to all whom he loved, was abandoned, most barbarously 
 neglected; a man to attend him (and that, I believe , only latterly), 
 
 as a nurse. 
 
 + ****-* 
 
 " These were his friends, these his attendants on his deathbed in 
 Newgate. Sunday, I urged the Chancellor once more, and stung him 
 so home, wilh regard to the unheard-of cruelty of hanging Clinch 
 close to my brother, in his weak state, that he did seem sorry and to 
 relent. He said , ' it was very wrong indeed , that he was sorry for it , 
 that it should not happen again , but that they did not know it,' was 
 his expression. Oh , my lord ! what does not this expression involve ? 
 what volumes might be written on these last words ! but that is fo- 
 reign to my purpose. At last the Chancellor, in a sort of way, gave * 
 me hopes of seeing my poor brother, talked even of the secrecy 
 >vilh which the visit must be conducted. The joy of a reprieved 
 wretch could not exceed mine ; it was of short duration. The pro-
 
 1798. OF LORD feDWARD FITZGERALD. 187 
 
 spect that gladdened me with the hopes that, in the interval, \\hcn 
 he was quiet , I might still be a comfort , be of use to him , va- 
 nished. A note from the Chancellor came, saying, that my request 
 could not be granted. What severity could surpass this? 
 
 " In the evening of the same day, the surgeons told me that the 
 symptoms of death were such as made them think that he would 
 not last out the night. Then, I believe, the Almighty smote your 
 consciences ! Lady Louisa and myself indeed saw him , three hours 
 before he breathed his last, in the grated room of Newgale. God 
 help you! that was the extent of your charity. This was your justice 
 in mercy, but I will not embitter the sweet remembrance of that 
 scene, which I hope will go with me through life, by mis-timed 
 asperity, nor will I dare to talk of it * * * 
 
 ****<*** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " My grief has plunged me deeper into correspondence with you 
 than I at first wished 5 but to recount a brother's sufferings , a bro- 
 ther's wrongs , and above all , his patience , is , and will be , my 
 duly to (he end of my life. I will complain for him , though his 
 great heart never uttered a complaint for himself, from the day of 
 his confinement. My lord, you did not know him, and happy is it 
 for you. He was no common being. I have now eased my mind of 
 a part of the load that oppressed it , and shall now conclude , return- 
 ing thanks to that kind Providence thai directed my steps to Ireland, 
 just in time to discover and be the recorder of these foul deeds. 
 
 "One word more and I have done , as I alone am answerable for 
 this letter. Perhaps you will still take compassion on his wife and 
 three babes, the eldest not four years old. The opportunity that I 
 offer, is to protect their estate for them from violence and plunder. 
 You can do it if you please. I am, etc." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 ' .Monday Evening, 7 o'clock. 
 
 "MY DEAREST HENRY. 
 
 "To tell you with what heartbreaking sorrow I parted with you 
 this morning is surely unnecessary. God protect you and relieve 
 you, my dear, dear nephew, for doubly dear does your misfortune 
 make you to me. I have sent Sheils for some more hair, the little 
 gray cloak , and all the apparel that we saw on him , to be put by 
 lor you. I have also consented to the funeral's taking place on Wed- 
 nesday night, from a circumstance Dr. Lindsay informed me of, 
 just as I returned from you, which was the necessity of opening
 
 188 MEMOIRS :793. 
 
 the body, as a coroner's inquest sat upon it, io ascertain the causes 
 of dissolution , which were proved to arise from fever. 
 
 "Mr. Stone and Mr. Sheils are to go in the coach, and I have 
 written down the direction for the intermediate attention, ordering 
 the man and woman who attended him during the illness to sil up 
 these two nights, and sent them necessaries for the purpose. I have 
 got the watch and chain that hung constantly round his neck , with 
 a locket of hair, which I will send you by the first opportunity, along 
 with his own dear hair. I have been also with Hamilton the painter. 
 There are two pictures of him , one for your mother, and the other 
 for you , besides one of Lucy, I believe , for you also. Mr. Hamilton 
 says they are not finished , and cannot be ready to go to England 
 these two months $ but he w ill hasten them as much as possible , 
 and I will take care to forward them. My love to your dear wife, 
 and believe me ever, my dearest Henry, your most affectionate aunt 
 and fellow-sufferer, 
 
 "L. CONOLLY." 
 
 FROM CHARLES LOCK , ESQ. TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Harley-street, June 9, 1798. 
 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 "You will be glad to know that the intelligence of this misfor- 
 tune has not had the violent effect we feared upon Cecilia. On Thurs- 
 day we prepared her for it , by informing her that Lord Edward was 
 in extreme danger. She cried very much during the course of the 
 day, and being tired with the agitation , and perhaps soothing her- 
 self with a ray of hope , slept tolerably well. Yesterday, I was under 
 the painful necessity of disclosing to her the truth. She had two 
 hysteric fits, and suffered dreadfully all the day, but, towards 
 evening , became more composed , and was perfectly calm at bed- 
 time. She slept several hours, and is this morning, though extreme- 
 ly low, collected, and seems resigned. Her grief will be lasting, 
 but I no longer fear any premature effects from its violence. 
 
 " What you write of Lady Sophia and Lucy is very comfortable. 
 If Lady Lucy feared when her brother was arrested that the event 
 would be fatal, from knowing more of the matter than ourselves, 
 it will account for the alarming state of mind she was in previous to 
 her leaving London , and I trust she will be less affected now. I 
 think there is every reason to hope , from the religious temper of 
 mind the dear duchess possesses , that she will support herself under 
 this heavy dispensation with fortitude, ^fy mother has been here 
 onstantly, and so has Charlotte . who desires her love to you , and
 
 1798 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. ISM 
 
 says she does not write since I am writing. She has been of the 
 greatest assistance and comfort to Cecilia, from the composure slie 
 has shown from the beginning , and will be so to her mother and 
 sisters when they arrive. 
 
 "Lord Henry came to town last night. The Dukes of Richmond 
 and Leinster have been to Stratford-place , but it was thought pru- 
 dent he should not see any one yet , as he is much agitated and fati- 
 gued with all he has undergone. I shall probably hear from you 
 to-morrow, and I hope good news. Believe me very sincerely 
 yours , 
 
 "CHAS. LOCK. 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO WILLIAM OGILVIE , ESQ. 
 
 " Whitehall , June glh , 1798. 
 
 "You will believe, my dear Mr. Ogilvie, how anxious I am to 
 hear of my poor sister. Charles Lock showed me, this morning, 
 your letter to him from Coleshill ; and I trust we shall hear again 
 to-morrow, how she is able to bear this dreadful blow. I doubt that 
 now the hopes of saving him, which kept up her mind and occupied 
 her attention , are gone , she will sink into melancholy and wretched 
 regret. The only topics to keep her up are w hat you so wisely hint 
 at in your letter, the reflections of how much worse it probably 
 would have ended , the saving of his fortune for his children , 
 and the pleasure of now showing to his wife and them the affection 
 one possessed for him. Little Edward w ill be an occupation for my 
 sister, and the reflection of the shocking scenes that have been avoided 
 will afford a comfort for a loss which, any way, was, I fear in- 
 evitable. 
 
 "Believe me, I feel much for the terrible task you have had, 
 of conducting Lady Sophia and Lady Lucy from Towcesler to Coles- 
 hill, and without female assistance. But you have shown such 
 kindness to them all , that the recollection of the real use you have 
 been of, will, I trust, compensate for the pain it has occasioned. 
 You and my sister will be glad to know how 'those left here go on. 
 As soon as I heard the event , which the Duke of Portland very 
 humanely communicated to me , I sent to Harley-slreet to know 
 if you w as gone , and had a messenger ready to despatch after you , 
 when they brought me word that Lady Henry had sent her servant, 
 I went immediately to Harley-street , and brought Lady Edward 
 here, trying to prepare her, in the coach, for bad news, which I 
 repeatedly said I dreaded by the next post. She, however, did not 
 take my meaning. When she got here, we had Dr. Mosclej pre- 
 sent , and , h\ degrees - we broke to her the sad event. Her agonies
 
 19 o MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 of grief were very great , and violent hysterics soon came on. When 
 the Duke of Leinster came in , she took him for Edward , and you 
 may imagine how cruel a scene it was. But by degrees , though 
 very slow ones , she grew more calm at times , and , although she 
 has had little sleep, and still less food , and has nervous spasms , and 
 appears much healed , yet I hope and trust her health is not mate- 
 rially affected. She yesterday saw her children . and all of his family 
 who hav been able to come here, but no one else, except Miss 
 Coote, who got admittance by mistake. She is as reasonable as 
 possible , and shows great goodness of heart in the constant inqui- 
 ries she is making about my sister, Lady Lucy, and Mrs. Lock. It 
 seems a diversion of her own grief , to employ her mind in anxiety 
 for that of those she most loves , and who were dearest to her dear 
 husband. 
 
 "The Duke of Leinster has supported himself with great fortitude, 
 though, with Lady Edward, he is often crying. Lady Mary has also 
 great command over herself-, Lady Emily less. Dear Cecilia is, I 
 trust, as well as can be expected. They thought it right to break 
 the business to her by very slow degrees , which , 1 fear, rather tor- 
 mented her with a vain hope ; but , since she has known the worst, 
 she is more quiet and composed. In one way or other, the effusions 
 of grief must have their vent, but after that one gets somehow re- 
 conciled to misery. Lady Charlotte Sturtt's fortitude has not forsaken 
 her strong mind, and, though much distressed, she employs her 
 whole time with Cecilia. 
 
 "Lady Henry, too happy to have got her husband back, is to- 
 tally occupied about him. I called there this morning, but he was 
 not composed enough to see me. Lady Henry told me that he was 
 very angry and violent ; that he had written a warm letter to the 
 Lord Lieutenant, and talked of publishing accounts of the treatment 
 his brother had received. One knows Henry's good and warm heart 
 enough to be prepared for his feelings being thus excited by having 
 been so near a witness of events which , in every light , convey such 
 unpleasant thoughts. But I trust that a little calm reflection , and 
 talking with friends, will convince him that his plans can do no 
 good , but on the contrary much harm now. Attacks will be reta- 
 liated , and perhaps be attended with unpleasant circumstances 5 
 and now, I do think , the best friends to poor Edward's memory 
 must wish to have as little said of the past as possible. No doubt 
 some things might have been better : more humanity and attention 
 to him might have been shown , and would have done them credit ; 
 but some allowances are to be made for the critical limes, in which 
 there were too many things to think of to permit half to be done 
 properly. The Duke of Leinstrr is quite reasonable and right about
 
 1798 OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 191 
 
 keeping all discussions down , and I trust we shall soon bring Henry 
 lo our opinions. I have been promised that I shall see him before 
 any body else , except his brother. 
 
 "The Duke of Leinster. Lord Holland, and myself, on hearing 
 a variety of reports . thought it right thai something should be pub- 
 lished , and accordingly the inclosed was agreed upon , and sent 
 to the papers : I hope you and my sister will approve of it. Lady 
 Henry, this morning, showed me a copy of poor Edward's will. It 
 was, I think , dated the -27th of May. He makes Henry trustee, to 
 pay oft" debts , and gives the remainder to his wife for life, and then 
 in equal shares amongst his children ; failing of them , to his right 
 heirs. 
 
 " You will see in the papers such news as we have about Ireland ; 
 it seems but bad; but there are reports to-day, though I believe not 
 as yet confirmed . that the rebel camp at Wexford has been carried 
 with great slaughter ; and it is said that the regiments are going from 
 hence. I hear from Charles Lock, that you very prudently mean lo 
 slop at Coleshill for some days , and then come up by slow journeys 
 to London. I wished to wail here your arrival , and after a few days' 
 rest . to propose to you all to go lo Goodwood , where you will have 
 good air, and a quiet you can never get in this tow n , which seems 
 to me quite necessary for all. But perhaps my sister may wish lo wait 
 in tow n . to attend Cecilia . or perhaps she may trust her with her 
 mother-in-law. 
 
 ' ; I am most anxious that she and all of you should do whatever 
 may. on (he whole, appear pleasanler to her. Goodwood will hold 
 you and my sister , Lady Sophia , Lady Lucy . Miss Ogilvie . Lady 
 Edward and her children , and Lord and Lady Henry. The Duke of 
 Leinster must, of course, slay with his wife, and Lady Charlotte 
 Slurtt will be with her husband; but I can lake all the rest, 'and more 
 if necessary. Don't let my sister fancy that it will be crowding, or 
 distressing me. Far otherwise , I assure you : it will give me real 
 pleasure lo be of any use lo you all o^ so melancholy an occasion , 
 and it is on such that the affections of near relations is soothing to 
 grief. I hope , too, that the quiet of Coventry may be useful, for I 
 expect nobody, and at all events should have nobody else (hen. 
 
 "Lady Edward, to whom I have talked on this scheme, seems 
 rather inclined to go to Hamburgh , as soon as she has seen my 
 sister a little more composed , Lady Lucy quiet , and Mrs. Lock 
 brought to bed. She is very naturally suspicious, and disgusted with 
 affairs in this country ; and although she says that politics are (he 
 last Uiing she should think of, yet she fancies she should be quieter 
 at Hambuvcrh than in Encland. f wish her to d> exaclly what her
 
 19* MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 own inclination may lead her to, for I have no olher wish than to 
 see her as comfortable as her misfortunes will permit ; and it will be 
 no inconvenience whatever for me to have her remain some "time at 
 Goodwood. My sister's wishes will determine me to press it or not ; 
 as, for my own part, I really should feel a particular pleasure in 
 showing this mark of attention to poor Edward's memory. I have 
 a county meeting at Lewes , on this day se'nnight , the 16th instant, 
 which I wish to attend , and shall be glad if it should so happen that 
 my sisler was to come to town before Friday, on which day I wish 
 to set out. But I would by no means wish her to hurry in the least 
 on that account $ only let me know your plan , as near as you can , 
 and I will endeavour to accommodate mine to it as well as I can. If 
 my sister don't come so soon , I would go and come back again , and 
 could leave Lady Edward here with Henrietta , taking care first to 
 see the Duke of Portland, and obtain his approbation : but I believe 
 that now they will let her do as she pleases, at least I cannot sec why 
 they should not , especially as , from what I can see , she behaves 
 with the most strict propriety. Adieu, my dear sir : assure my dear 
 sisler of my kindest and most affectionate love ,and tell all her daugh- 
 ters with you how sincerely I sympathise in their sorrows. 
 
 " Ever yours , most truly, 
 
 "RICHMOND, etc." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO THE HON. JOHN LEESON. 
 
 " Castletown , June i3th, 1798. 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I received both your letters, and acquainted the Lord Lieute- 
 nant with the neglect in Mr. Cook's office , as I thought it right that 
 he should know it , to prevent mischief for the future on such occa- 
 sions. The grief I have been in , and still do feel , is so much above 
 any other sensation , that the want of respect to rny feelings on that 
 melancholy procession was not worth any notice. I should have 
 answered your second letter, f,ut that I expected from it to have the 
 pleasure of seeing you here yesterday. The inclosed letter to Gene- 
 ral Wilford ( which I have left open for you to read ) was to have 
 gone to Kildare by a servant of Mr. Conolly's five days ago. But 
 as he changed his mind about sending there, I send it now to you, 
 and am , 
 
 "Dear sir, 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 "L. O'CONOLLY'." 
 
 ' On the back of this leUer is the following memorandum , in the hand-writing 
 of Lord Henry: From Lady Louisa Conolly iu consequence of a complaint made
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. l<>? 
 
 FROM I.ADV >AHAH .NAPIER TO THE DLKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 " Casllctowu , June 2;lh , 1798. 
 
 It is impossible, my dearest brother, to find expressions suitable 
 to the extraordinary sensations occasioned by the uncommon events 
 that daily fil! my thoughts , a succession of anxious doubts , fears , 
 anger, grief, indignation. Public calamities touching each person 
 individually, private concerns awakening all one's feeling , the calls 
 of honour, duty, mixed with pity , and deep concerp for the fate 
 of thousands . all together forms such a chaos , that , with double 
 joy, I catch at those few pleasing ideas that come along with sorrow. 
 Your generous, lender, and noble conduct towards all our afflicted 
 family, but in particular to Lady Edward, has made an impression 
 on my mind of the most consoling nature. It brings forth all those 
 qualities your good heart possessed into their full lustre , and they 
 not only act as a balm to many a wounded heart at this juncture , 
 but secure to yourself those happiest, best of feelings, which no 
 power on earth can rob you of, that inward Messing of self- 
 approbation that will make your days calm and content amid all 
 these storms. 
 
 " I have hitherto only heard a general exclamation of gratitude from 
 the family, theDuke ofLeinster in particular, and that Lady Ed- 
 ward was actually gone to Goodwood, from which I augur so much 
 good to her health and spirits and feelings, that I trust the lime is not 
 far off before you will be rewarded by success in your generous solici- 
 tude to comfort the afflicted. And when you know her, my dear 
 brother, I will venture to assert you will not .think your pains 
 bestowed on an unworthy or ungrateful object. She is a character, 
 but it is noble, elevated, great, and not easily understood by those 
 who level all down to common worldly rules. According to the 
 observations you must have made, in reading and experience of 
 characters, you will find hers susceptible of all that belongs to a 
 superior one. Uneven in strength of body and mind, she rises or 
 sinks suddenly with illness and with affections. She launches out 
 into almost ravings from her lively imagination, sees things in too 
 strong lights, cannot bear violent checks, but is soothed into reason 
 
 to her, of the indecent neglect in Mr. Cook's office, by Mr. Leeson. A guard was 
 to have attended at Newgale , the night of ray poor brother's borial, in order to 
 provide against all interruption from the different guards and patroles in the 
 streets: it never armed, which caused the funeral to be se\eral limes stopped 
 in its way, so that the burial did not take place till near two in the morning, and 
 the people attending obliged to stay in the church until a pass could be procured 
 to enlarge them." 
 
 10
 
 I9i MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 by tenderness with ease. I know no human being more formed by 
 your tender, patient perseverance to bring her poor distracted mind 
 to composure -, and your talents for cheerfully occupying her 
 thoughts will, I doubt not, chime in with her natural youthful 
 vivacity so well , as to give you full powers of consolation over her 
 mind in due lime. 
 
 " Alas ! would I could think your success as sure with our dear, 
 dear sister; how different must your system be with her! Yet, 
 even in that task, I know nobody, next to Louisa, so fit to undertake 
 it , or so likely to succeed. Your affectionate manner to my sister 
 will have all flie weight which Nature gives , and added to that , the 
 pleasing powers of unexpected tenderness; for, although she 
 knows you love her , yet she has not been so much in the habit of 
 receiving such unequivocal proofs of your kindness, as her grief now 
 produces in your most unwearied attention to her and all hers. I am 
 sure she will feel all these sentiments, because I anticipate them in 
 my own mind as hers, and feel a comfort in the contemplation of 
 what hers must be. 
 
 t "I thank God and you for the least gleam of sunshine to my 
 beloved sister : she is my first object ; but how many, many more 
 wander round my imagination like ghosts! The poor Duke of 
 Leinster how my heart bleeds for him ! I am even now interrupted 
 by the sad tidings of his last and still deeper misfortune being just 
 at hand *. God grant him fortitude. He has greatfeeling, little energy, 
 and an accumulation of distress beyond the common lot of man. 
 His lost brother, and the entire ruin of his fortune (perhaps for 
 ever), are the preliminaries to his sorrows : deeply will he feel the 
 loss. No mortal can pity him' more than you, for his dear wife's 
 attachment was of that nature never to be forgotten; she was his 
 friend, his counsellor , with an uncommon share of sense, and 
 warmth of heart in all that concerned him , that made her the haven 
 to which he looked in all distresses : she soothed and calmed his 
 griefs, pointed out remedies, and, by occupying him in his lender 
 care of her sorrows, made him forget his own. He will now sink, 
 I fear, into a depth of affliction from which additional ruin will 
 start up. The only chance he has , would be what his nature , I 
 much fear, can never be roused to undertake, the immediate 
 arrangement of business. The county of Rildare, in which is all his 
 property, is almost desolate, and growing worse every day. The 
 peculiar marked object has been to ruin his tenants , and the insur- 
 gents will now finish it ; for although personal attachment to him 
 makes them very anxious to avoid it, yet necessity forces them to 
 
 1 The ilcath of the duchess.
 
 i79- OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD 195 
 
 take what they can gel. The cruel hardship put on his tenants, 
 preferably to all others . has driven them to despair, and they join 
 the insurgents, saying , It's belter to die with a pike in my hand 
 than be shot like a dog at my work, or see my children faint for 
 want of food before my eyes; 1 from hence you may guess he will get 
 no rents. 
 
 " Private distresses divert one's thoughts from public evil, yet 
 you see how it brings one back to it on every occasion. A servant 
 is waiting for this letter : I therefore will only add some slight 
 account of our situation, in case you do not hear of it from others. 
 The victory, as it is called, in Wexford, has only secured the town, 
 and killed five thousand, a lamentable victory; yet, if it tends to 
 save more lives, it is success; but how far it does do that, no 
 mortal can yet decide. They say (for 1 assert nothing) thai Ihere 
 were thirty thousand there; call it twenty, then fifteen thousand 
 have escaped , and are now, as I to-day hear from Celbridge (where 
 I fear our intelligence is too good ) , at Timahor, a hill that forms 
 a kind of peninsula in this end of the Bog of Allen. We knew of 
 many thousands between Timahor and Celbridge for this month 
 past ; for Colonel Napier has, by his personal attention , kept them 
 off from Celbridge by odd means, too long to explain, but which, 
 being a ruse de guerre , which they did not expect, has answered 
 the purpose-, and as they waited for the event of Wexford, it could 
 be done. Bui now I fancy it will be the seat of the next insurrection; 
 it is nine miles from hence , and all their outposts within three or 
 five of Celbridge. 
 
 " What Lord Cornwallis will do, 1 cannot say, but probably he 
 will make some military arrangement, and this camp at Timahor 
 again be routed. But what is more alarming is, that in the South , 
 and in the Queen's County, they start up, so that our troops will 
 never be sufficient to prevent insurrections; though, if well managed. 
 I have no doubt they will drive away the multitudes by a flying 
 camp pursuing them in lime , and lhat it w ill never amount to a 
 rebellion , which the Camden government have so imprudently 
 
 called it. 
 
 ******* + * 
 
 I hope some good will arise from **'s disgrace; indeed it 
 cannot fail , for there will be some system , and the violence of the 
 troops requires to be directed to useful exertions, and not wasted on 
 the innocent as well as the guilty. Dublin is well guarded fay a very 
 fine body of yeomanry, but it is not safe to move them. You send 
 us no militia, which is natural enough, and what are we to do? The 
 small bodies of army quartered every where to stop passes towards 
 the capital are harassed to death by want of sleep , and by going
 
 l% MEMOIRS , 79 8. 
 
 about like a young dog in a rabbit-warren , here and there, flying 
 from spot to spot, and catching little or nothing ; for all those calcu- 
 lations of hundreds which you see are commonly from six to ten or 
 twelve men killed, and four or five poor innocent wretches shot at 
 in the fields, and afterward bayoneted , to put them out of pain ; 
 this a soldier told my sister. 
 
 "Adieu, my dearest -brother : I will in general terms request 
 our most affectionate love from hence to Goodwood inhabitants . 
 and to yourself in particular. My husband gains strength in propor- 
 tion to fatigue and thinness , I think. I hope it will not essentially 
 hurt him : he made me come here with my children , to clear our 
 house for action , as it is the first to fall on if they come this way ; 
 and we expect them every day. My dear sister is as usual much the 
 better for the constant employment of doing good , and much has she 
 now to exert that talent on. Mr. Conolly is at home, well guarded. 
 and wishing to do good , but knows not how. Adieu. 
 " Ever, most affectionately, 
 
 " My dearest brother, yours, 
 
 "S. N." 
 
 FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY TO WILLIAM OGILVIE, ESQ. 
 
 *' Castletown , July loth, 1798. 
 
 "Mv DEAR MR. OGILVIE, 
 
 " I was most truly thankful to you for yours of the 10th of June 
 from Coleshill , and would have answered the business part of it 
 directly, had it been necessary ; but as dear Henry is left sole executor 
 lo the will, and that he had a copy of it, there was nothing left for 
 me to do. You must also have heard from him, that the dear remains 
 were deposited by Mr. Bourne in St. Werburgh church, until the 
 limes would permit of their being removed to the family vault at 
 Kildare. I ordered every thing upon that occasion thai appeared lo 
 me to be right, considering all the heart-breaking circumstances 
 belonging to that event,- and I was guided by the feelings which I 
 am persuaded our beloved angel would have had upon the same oc- 
 casion , had he been to direct for me , as it fell lo my lot to do for 
 him. 1 well knew, thai lo run the smallest risk of shedding one drop 
 of blood, by any riot intervening upon that mournful occasion, 
 would be the thing of all olhers lhal would vex him most ; and know- 
 ing also how much he despised all outward show, I submitted to 
 what I thought prudence required. The impertinence and neglect 
 (in Mr. Cook's office) of orders (notwithstanding Lord Gasllereagh
 
 i :9 8. OF LORD EDWARD Fl'l'ZGERALD. 107 
 
 had arranged every thing as I wished it), had nearly caused what 
 I had taken such pains to avoid. However, happily, nothing hap- 
 pened ; but I informed Lord Camden of the neglect , for the sake of 
 others , and to prevent mischief on other occasions , where a similar 
 neglect might have such bad consequences. You may easily believe 
 that my grief absorbed all other feelings, and Mr. ** is too insigni- 
 ficant even to be angry at. At any other time than this, his imperti- 
 nence might amuse one but now it passes unnoticed. 
 
 " Mr. Stone is an officer belonging to our regiment. I have never 
 been able to see him since , though I long for that satisfaction ; but 
 previous to our dear angel's departure from this life , Mr. Stone was 
 forced to join his regiment , which has been at Kilcullen ever since ; 
 and the Iwo last days he was attended by a surgeon , whose manner 
 and appearance I liked. But I shall never lose sight of Mr. Stone , 
 or of being of all the use I can to him for the friendship he showed 
 my beloved Edward, my beloved Edward , I may well say, for, 
 indeed , my dear Mr. Ogilvie , the sorrow I feel is beyond what I 
 could well have imagined, and I own to you that I do not grow 
 belter. The complicated scene of distress that involves our family is 
 perpetually before my eyes ; and that of my dearest sister, whom I 
 love so much better than myself, grieves my heart. Your account 
 of her was as good as I could expect , and I hear that she bore the 
 meeting at Goodwood without any bad effect to her health. I long 
 to hear of her again , and beg , my dear Mr. Ogilvie , that you will 
 write to me. I won't write to her myself, because I really can't. It is 
 so impossible to write on subjects that tear one's "very heart-strings 
 asunder, and on no other, I am sure , could we write. Her hear; and 
 mine are like one, from the affection we bear each other ; and, 
 therefore , she must be sensible of all that passes in mine , without 
 im undergoing the painful task of writing it. But I wish greatly to 
 hear of her ^ therefore , pray write to me , and tell me about the 
 rest of the sad afflicted family. 
 
 " The poor Duke of Leinster and his dear girls go to my heart , 
 exclusive of my own regret for that most truly worthy dearduchess, 
 whose mind I know to have been one of the purest that ever mortal 
 had . and tit for heaven. On her own account I hardly know how to 
 regret her, for the very miserable state of her nerves , at all limes , 
 deprived her of enjo\ment here ; and her well-spent life, with the 
 unceasing desire of doing what was right, certainly al\\.ns gave her 
 an indifference about living, that at times , I have thought , amounted 
 to a wish of its being at an end. But her loss to her family is irrepar- 
 able: for a belter mother never existed, nor one who has instilled 
 belter principles than she did into her children. The Ihree eldest I 
 am convinced will never lose the good effects of them , and Ihe three
 
 198 MEMOIRS 1-98. 
 
 youngest 1 trust will profit by their example. I am going to town to 
 see them Cecilia has not been well , but I hope there is no cause for 
 alarm. The situation of the country has separated us sadly, and it 
 was thought more advisable for them to stay at Leinsler-house, 
 where the yeomanry corps keep guard , so that I believe they are 
 in the best possible place. I shall venture to persuade poor Bess to 
 come here for a week, as her spirits want help, for she is deeply 
 afflicted at the loss of her dear mother. 
 
 " I have been interrupted two or three times in the course of writ- 
 ing my letter, and that not without agitation -, for although I make 
 it a rule to believe , as little as possible , all that I hear, yet these 
 histories of cruelty I cannot at all times avoid. I confess candidly 
 that I hear of them on both sides , and they equally thrill me with 
 horror ; but I am determined to pursue , as long as I possibly can , 
 the plan of standing my ground ; for I really do not apprehend per- 
 sonal danger, but sufferings. The miseries of the country pursue me 
 day and night, for I have at times most terrible dreams. Lord Corn- 
 wallis's coming at first raised me ; his character has always been so 
 good , and his own sentiments upon his arrival seemed so calculated 
 for restoring us to peace , that a cheering ray pierced through the 
 dreadful clouds that are hanging over us. But, alas, I hear thai our 
 Cabinet arc all against him, what can he do? and yet , if he leaves 
 us , I am afraid we are undone. It is astonishing to see the veneration 
 his name creates ; and it is my firm belief that, if all sides would 
 submit to him as an arbitrator, he could still save us. What could be 
 so wise as trusting to an honest man , an experienced military man , 
 and , above all , an unprejudiced man, who cannot have imbibed 
 any of our misguided passions '? All the Irish necessarily must be 
 prejudiced at this moment ; suffering as we all do , from various 
 causes, it becomes extremely difficult to steer the little bark of 
 reason , justice, and humanity, that yet remains among us , through 
 the ocean of fear, mistrust, treachery, cruelty, and revenge : to 
 which catalogue I may add, an extraordinary and unaccountable 
 frenzy that seems to have influenced the lower class ; for not one in 
 a hundred have an idea what they are fighting for. However, that 
 part of the people would be in our favour, if ever we were restored 
 to peace , for the same levity that brought them to this pitch would 
 make them forget it , when the thing was once over, which, if origin- 
 ating from any fixed principle , would not be the case. 
 
 1 It was the opinion of Sir John Moore, of whose sincere love of liberty no one 
 can (lonht, that if ever there was a case in which the employment of such an of- 
 ficer as Dictator conld be desired , it was that of the state of Ireland , one honest, 
 strong, and uncompromising hand being alone adequate, in his opinion, to the 
 application of such remedies a:> she requires
 
 , 79 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 199 
 
 " Our house is a perfect garrison , eighteen soldiers sleep in our 
 saloon , and we are all blocked up , and shut up, except by the hall 
 door, and one door to the kitchen-yard, and are frequently ordered 
 all into the house , upon the alarm being given of the rebels being 
 near Celbridge. Thank God, they have never been in a body since 
 the military company came info it , or else there must have been 
 some battle , which is the thing I dread. Lord Cornwallis would 
 have a Proclamation inviting them to come in; and although it has 
 not been as decided as I am sure he wished it to be, yet many are 
 daily coming in to Mr. Conolly, begging protection, which you may 
 imagine he gives them with the greatest pleasure. I have opportu- 
 nities of conversing with these poor people, from whom I find that 
 many are forced into the rebellion, and of course are grievously to 
 be pitied. I verily believe that many of them are heartily tired of it. 
 My love to all at Goodwood. And pray tell me something of my dear- 
 est brother, whose kindness, I am sure, does you all so much 
 good. Adieu. Believe me affectionately yours, 
 
 "L. CONOLLY." 
 
 FROM THE DUCHESS DOWAGER OF LEINSTER TO LORD HENRY 
 
 FITZGERALD. 
 
 "Goodwood, July 17, 1798- 
 Fatal year ! 
 
 " We are neither of us in a stale at present, my beloved Henry, 
 to touch on a subject so heart-rending and distracting as all that has 
 passed w ilhin these last three months of w retchedness ; but I am sure 
 you will be glad to know from myself that I am much better, thanks 
 to Almighty God! and in proportion as I look around for comfort is 
 llic wish I feel of seeing you next week. The Leinsters are asked to 
 ( nine: luil, at that time, it would make too many. They will probably 
 not stay longer than a week, and then I hope to be blessed with a 
 si-lit of you. My brother has often asked why you don't come -, and 
 the dear little interesting Pamela , who must ever be an object , dear, 
 precious, and sacred to all our hearts, has often expressed a desire 
 of seeing you. Hitherto I have dreaded its affecting you too much , 
 but as 1 hope your mind is more composed, you might perhaps be 
 belter able to bear it. This you must judge of yourself, and when 
 you can come. I hope you will. 
 
 " I wish for your advice and opinion in regard to dear Pamela's 
 future destination, as I know it will in great part be determined by 
 that which 1 give her. and I am really afraid of recommending any 
 particular plan to her for thai vei > reason ; but I think we, could talk
 
 .200 MEMOIRS , :y >, 
 
 it over more comforlably together. There is no need of hurry, for 
 she is welcome , I am sure , to stay here as long as she likes ; my 
 brother is extremely fond of her, and enters into her situation with 
 parental solicitude. Indeed it is one that must move all hearts , and 
 claims all our protection, tenderness, and attention. You, my dear 
 Henry, have been the chosen persdh for this duty; but we are all 
 ready to share it with you. She seems at present much undecided 
 about going to Hamburgh : Mr. Matheuson's pressing letters , the 
 cheapness of living, and being perhaps more in the way of seeing 
 those who might give her information as to the small chance she 
 may have of recovering her property, are all inducements to go. 
 On the other hand, she hates leaving his family, to whom she is 
 naturally drawn by affection. She hates the appearance as well as the 
 reality of separating herself from us , and wishes us to witness the 
 propriety and good sense with which she always has and always 
 will guide all her actions , and which the ill-nature that has prevailed 
 against her makes more particularly necessary in her case than in 
 any other. She is a charming creature , and the more one is ac- 
 quainted with her real character, the more one esteems and loves 
 it} but even were she not so, he adored her : he is gone.' This is 
 an indissoluble chain, that must ever bind her to our hearts. But 
 here let me stop , lest I break the resolution I made at the beginning 
 of my letter. 
 
 "Mr. Leeson, I understand, has been with you, and you may 
 now have it in your power to know a little whether she has the 
 power of making a choice as to her motions, for they must greatly 
 depend on money. We are too poor to give her any assistance , and 
 I believe it is pretty much the case with the whole family, who at 
 any other time would have done it with pleasure ; but it is now 
 quite out of the question , and , therefore , to avoid expense must be 
 her first object. This she is very sensible of, and it throws her into 
 irresolution , which is always an unpleasant stale , and oftener 
 brought on by the want of money, I believe , with most people , 
 than by any other sort of distress whatever. It is very much ours at 
 present , and I have not the least guess where we shall be the re- 
 mainder of this year. I am sorry for others , but as to myself it is 
 perfectly indifferent all, all alike! To see those I love pleased is 
 the only thing that ever can have the power of cheering me. To that 
 I am not insensible. 
 
 "Adieu, my dearest Henry : remember me most kindly to your 
 dear wife. I hope she is well, and will write often to the girls ac- 
 counts of you both , and of the dear boys. God bless you all. 
 
 "E. L.
 
 i7<|8. , OF LOKD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 201 
 
 " I inclose this lo William, to save postage , as I understand lie 
 is with you. Poor dear William! give my love lo him. 1 ' 
 
 Though il would be impossible to adduce any more convincing 
 proof of the amiableness, of Lord Edward's private life than what the 
 interest in his fate evinced throughout these letters affords , it would 
 be injustice, not lo cite also some of those public tributes to his cha- 
 racter which friends and enemies of his political principles have alike 
 concurred in paying : 
 
 " I knew Fitzgerald bul very lillle , but I honour and venerate 
 his character, which he has uniformly sustained, and, in this last 
 inslancc , illuslraled. What miserable wretches by his side are the 
 genlry of Ireland! I would rather be Fitzgerald, as he is now, 
 wounded in his dungeon , than Pill at the head of the British Em- 
 pire. What a noble fellow! Of Ihe first family in Ireland, with an 
 easy fortune , a beautiful wife , and a family of lovely children , Ihe 
 certainly of a splendid appointmenl under government , if he would 
 condescend to support their measures , he has devoted 'himself 
 wholly lo Ihe emancipation of his country, and sacrificed every 
 thing to it, even to his blood." Diary of Theobald Wolfe 
 Tone. j 
 
 " As I suspected . the brave and unfortunate Fitzgerald was me- 
 ditating an attack on the capital , which was to have taken place a 
 few days after thai on which he was arrested. He is since dead , in 
 prison ; his career is finished gloriously for himself, and , whatever 
 be the event , his memory will live for ever in the heart of every 
 honest Irishman." Ibid. 
 
 ''Sir J. Parnell. Mr. Emmet, while you and the Executive 
 were philosophising , Lord Edward Fitzgerald was arming and dis- 
 ciplining the people. 
 
 ''Emmet. Lord Edward was a military man , and if he was doing 
 so , he probably thought that was the way in which he could be most 
 useful to the country ; but I am sure, thai if those with whom he 
 acted were convinced thai Ihe grievances of the people were re- 
 dressed, and thai force was become unnecessary, he would have 
 been persuaded lo drop all arming and disciplining. 
 
 " Mr. J. C. Beresford. I knew Lord Edward well, and always 
 found him very obstinate. 
 
 ''Emmet. I knew Lord Edward right well, and have done a 
 great deal of business with him , and have always found , when he 
 had a reliance on the integrity and talents of the person he acted 
 with , he was one of the most persuadable men alive ; but if he 
 thought a man meant Dishonestly or unfairly by him, he was as
 
 502 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 obstinate as a mule/' Report of Evidence before the Secret 
 Committee of the House of Commons. 
 
 " The Irish nation could not sustain a greater misfortune in the 
 person of any one individual , than befel it in the loss of Fitzgerald 
 at that critical moment. Even his enemies, and he. had none but 
 those of his country, allowed him to possess distinguished military 
 talents. With these , with unquestioned intrepidity, republicanism , 
 and devotion to Ireland , with popularity that gave him unbounded 
 influence, and integrity that made him worthy of the highest trust, 
 had he been present in the Irish camp to organize , discipline , and 
 give to the valour of his country a scientific direction , we should 
 have seen the slaves of monarchy fly before the republicans of 
 Ireland , as they did before the patriots of America. And if at last 
 the tears of his countrymen had been constrained to lament his fate, 
 they would have been received on the laurels of his tomb." Dr. 
 Mac Eleven. 
 
 " If Lord Edward had been actuated , in political life , by dis- 
 honourable ambition , he had only to cling to his great family con- 
 nexions and parliamentary influence. They, unquestionably, would 
 have advanced his fortunes and gratified his desires. The voluntary 
 sacrifices he made, and the jnagnanimous manner in which he de- 
 voted himself to the independence of Ireland, are incontestable 
 proofs of the purity of his soul." Ibid. 
 
 " Lord Edward had served with reputation, in the nineteenth 
 regiment , during a great part of the American war, and on many 
 occasions had displayed great valour and considerable abilities as an 
 officer. When in. the army, he was considered as a man of honour 
 and humanity, and was much esteemed by his brother officers for 
 his frankness , courage , and good-nature qualities , which he was 
 supposed to possess in a very high degree." Sir Richard Huts- 
 grave, History of the Irish Rebellion. 
 
 " Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose name I never mention with- 
 out anxiety and grief, and of whom I wish to speak with as much 
 tenderness as possible. 1 ' Spcechofthe Attorney General (Toler) 
 on Bond's Trial. 
 
 " The allusion in the following passage of Mr. Curran's speech , 
 to the amiable character of Lord Edward Fitzgerald , will lose much 
 of its force to those who have heard nothing of lhal unfortunate 
 ' nobleman, except his fate. His private excellencies were so con- 
 spicuous that the officer of the Crown , who moved for leave to 
 bring in the Bill of Attainder, could not refrain from bearing ample 
 testimony to them : ' His political offences he could not mention 
 without grief; and, were it consistent witl^he principles of public 
 
 Hi UK
 
 T 79 8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 303 
 
 justice, he would wish that the recording angel should let fall a tear 
 and wash them out for ever.' " Currans Life , by his Son. 
 
 To these high testimonials, in his lordship's favour, I cannot 
 resist the gratification of adding a few words of my own ; though 
 conscious that the manner in which his frank , simple character has 
 unfolded itself before the reader of the foregoing pages, renders 
 any further comment on it almost wholly superfluous. Both of his 
 mind and heart , indeed , simplicity may be said to have been the 
 predominant feature , pervading all his tastes , habits of thinking , 
 affections and pursuits ; and it was in this simplicity, and the single- 
 ness of purpose resulting from it , that the main strength of his 
 manly character lay. Talents far more brilliant would , for want of 
 the same clearness and concentration , have afforded a far less effi- 
 cient light. It is Lord Bacon, I believe, who remarks that the minds 
 of some men resemble those ill-arranged mansions in which there 
 are numerous small chambers , but no one spacious room. With 
 Lord Edward the very reverse was the case , his mind being , to 
 the whole extent of its range, thrown open, without either parti- 
 tions or turnings , and a direct singleness , as well of power as of 
 aim, being the actuating principle of his understanding and 
 his will. 
 
 It is evident that even a moderate portion of talent , thus earnestly 
 and undividedly brought to bear, must be capable of effects far 
 lir\ ond the reach even of the most splendid genius , when tempted, 
 as it is too often , by the versatility of its own powers , to deviate 
 into mere display, and so to lose sight of the end in the variety and 
 prodigality of the means. 
 
 Another quality of mind which, both in action and in the counsels 
 connected with it, gave Lord Edward the advantage over men far 
 beyond him in intellectual resources , was that disinterested and 
 devoted courage, which, rendering self a mere cipher in his calcu- 
 lations , took from peril all power to influence his resolves , and left 
 him free to pursue the right and the just, unembarrassed by a 
 single regard to the consequences. Never, indeed, was the noble 
 devise of the ancient Worthies of France, " Fais ce que dois, 
 advienne que pourra, 1 " more genuinely exemplified than in his 
 chivalrous character. 
 
 How much of self-will there was mixed up- in his disposition may 
 he seen throughout the ordinary events of his life. " Make Ogilvie 
 remember," he says in one of his letters , " how obstinate I am 
 when once I take a resolution." But, in him, the tendency of this 
 sort of character to settle into obstinacy was in a great degree coun- 
 teracted, not only by the natural gentleness of hi? disposition, but
 
 ?0i MEMOIRS 17;)*. 
 
 by a spirit of candour which , as we have seen attested by his friend 
 Emmet, rendered him easily convincible by those on whose good 
 sense and good intentions he had reliance. The same candour and 
 gentleness of nature , however singular such a mixture may ap- 
 pear, continued to mingle with and influence his feelings even 
 throughout that part of his career when it must have been most 
 difficult to keep them clear of intolerance and bitterness ; nor, in 
 warring fiercely against principles which he thought ruinous and 
 odious , did he entertain towards the persons professing them any 
 of that rancorous spirit which is so rarely separable from the excite- 
 ment of such a strife. As one who acted by his side thrqughoul 
 that conflict 1 says of him " He was the most tolerant of men . he 
 had no enmity to persons , " and the same authority adds, in all the 
 warmth of friendly portraiture, " I never saw in him, 1 will not 
 say a vice , but a defect." 
 
 But while thus a natural sweetness and generosity of temper 
 counteracted in him those defects of obstinacy and intolerance to 
 which a degree of self-will such as he possessed almost always leads, 
 tiie great efficacy also of this quality giving decision to the charac- 
 ter was no less manifested by the perseverance with which, through 
 all the disappointments and reverses' of his cause , he continued , as 
 we have seen , not only to stand by it firmly himself, but what , 
 despondingly as he must often have felt, was far more trying, to set 
 an example of confidence in its ultimate success for the encourage- 
 ment of others. There was , it is true , in these very failures and 
 misfortunes a sufficient stimulus to a strong and generous mind , 
 like his , to call forth all its energies. Of such spirits reverses are 
 the true whetstones , and, as has been well remarked , " None can 
 feel themselves equal to the execution of a great design who have 
 not once witnessed, with firmness and equanimity, its failure 2 ." 
 
 We have seen accordingly, how unshrinking was the patience , 
 how unabated the cheerfulness with which he was able to persevere 
 under the continued frustration of all his plans and wishes. The 
 disappointment ,. time after lime, of his hopes of foreign succour 
 might , from the jealousy with which he regarded such aid , have 
 been easily surmounted by him , had he but found a readiness , on 
 
 1 Mr. Arthur O'Connor, now a General in the French service. 
 
 3 From the speech given as that of the Marquis de Bedemar to his brother con- 
 spirators on an occasion resembling somewhat the sitnation of the United Irish- 
 men in 1797, when the fleet of the "Viceroy of Naples, which was on its way to 
 assist him, had been attacked by Corsairs, and disabled from coming: "Les 
 grands reversqni, dans les affaires communes, doivent sarprendre les esprits, 
 sont des accidens natnrels aux entreprises extraordinaires. Us sont la setile 
 eprenve de la force de Tame, et on ne pent se croire capable d'un grand dcssein 
 que qnand on 1'a vn one fois renverse avec tranquillite et Constance."
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. jf:. 
 
 the part of his colleagues, lo second him in an appeal lo native 
 strength. But . while the elements baffled all his projects from with- 
 out, irresolution and timid counsels robbed him of his chosen 
 moment of action within ; till, at last, confirmatory of alT his 
 own warnings as to the danger of delay, came that treachery by 
 which the whole conspiracy was virtually broken up, their designs 
 all laid open , and himself left , a fugitive and a wanderer, to trust 
 to the precarious fidelity of persons trembling for their own safety, 
 and tempted by the successful perfidy of others, with hardly one 
 of those colleagues remaining by his side on whose sagacity he 
 could rely for help through his difficulties. 
 
 Still, as we have seen , he persevered, not only firmly but cheer- 
 fully, conceiving his responsibility to the cause to be but increased 
 by the defection or loss of its other defenders. After the appearance 
 of the Proclamation against him , spme of his friends , seeing the 
 imminent peril of his position, had provided some trusty boatmen 
 (like those through whose means Hamilton Rowan had escaped) 
 who undertook to convey him safely to the coast of France. But 
 Lord Edward would not hear of it; his part was already taken. 
 Submitting with heroic good-humour lo a series of stratagems, 
 disguises and escapes, far, more formidable to a frank spirit like 
 his than the most decided danger, he reserved himself calmly for 
 the great struggle lo which his life was pledged , and which he had 
 now to encounter, weakened, but not dismayed, "animatus me- 
 lius (as Cicero says of another brave champion of a desperate cause) 
 quam paratus." 
 
 While such were the stronger and , as they may be called , public 
 features of his character, of the attaching nature of his social qua- 
 lities there exist so many memorials and proofs , both in the records 
 of his life and, still more convincingly, in those bursts of sympathy 
 and sorrow which his last melancholy moments called forth , that 
 to expatiate any further on the topic would be superfluous. As son , 
 friend . husband , and father, he may be said lo have combined all 
 thai most adorns and endears such lies. Limited as w r as his income, 
 lie could, at a!! times, find the means to be generous, the simpli- 
 city of his own habits enabling him to be liberal to others; "he 
 avoided ." says the friend already quoted , '* every expense for him- 
 self; for others his generosity was bounded only by the means to 
 satisfy it.' J>y his servants he was idolized; "there was not one 
 of us (said an honest old groom of his lo me) that would not gladly 
 have laid down life for him." Poor Tony, of whose fate the reader 
 must be desirous to know something , never held up his head after 
 his noble master's death, and very soon followed him. 
 
 Besides that charm which the most perfect good-nature threw
 
 20C MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 round all that he said and did , he had likewise in his conversation 
 a vein of natural pleasantry, which was Ihe more amusing from its 
 making no pretensions to amuse , and which , from his great power 
 of self-possession , he was able to preserve in situations where few 
 people could afford to be playful. Of this we have a characteristic 
 instance in what Lady Sarah Napier mentions him to have said, on 
 an occasion of no less danger to himself than the arrest of his friend 
 Mr. O'Connor, at Maidstone ' . 
 
 Among those traits of character which adorned him as a member 
 of social life , there is one which , on every account , is far too im- 
 portant not to be brought prominently forward in any professed 
 picture of him , and this was the strong and pure sense which he 
 entertained of religion. So much is it the custom of those who would 
 bring discredit upon freedom of thought in politics , to represent it 
 as connected invariably with lax opinions upon religion , that it is 
 of no small importance to be able to refer to two such instances as 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald and the younger Emmet , in both of whom 
 the freest range of what are called revolutionary principles was 
 combined with a warm and steady belief in the doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Thus far the task of rendering justice to the tine qualities of this 
 noble person has been safe and easy, the voice of political ene- 
 mies, no less than of friends, concurring cordially in the tribute. 
 In coming to consider , however , some of the uses to which these 
 high qualities were applied by him, and more particularly the great 
 object to which , in the latter years of his life, he devoted all their 
 energies, a far different tone of temper and opinion is to be counted 
 on -, nor are we , even yet , perhaps , at a sufficient distance from the 
 vortex of that struggle to have either the courage or the impartiality 
 requisite towards judging fairly of the actors in it. 
 
 Of the right of the oppressed to resist, few, in these days, would 
 venture to express a doubt ; the monstrous doctrine of passive obe- 
 dience having long since fallen into disrepute. To be able to fix , 
 however, with any precision, the point at which obedience may 
 cease , and resistance to the undue stretches of authority begin , is a 
 difficulty which must for ever leave vague and undirected the appli- 
 cation of the principle; a vagueness, of which the habitual favour- 
 ers of power adroitly take advantage , and while they concede the 
 right of resistance , as a general proposition , hold themselves free 
 to object to every particular instance of it. 
 
 How far the case of Ireland against her government, as it stood 
 in 1798 , comes under that description which most writers on poli- 
 
 1 See her Ladyship's Diary, p- < 35.
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 207 
 
 tical science consider as justifying a people in rising against their 
 rulers, must be left to the readers of her previous history to decide 
 for themselves , according to the views they respectively lake of the 
 boundaries within which human patience ought to limit its endu- 
 rance. One of the most ancient , as well as most able expounders of 
 the mutual relations between rulers and their subjects . in speaking 
 of the functions for which a people are qualified, says. " The safeh 
 of every free government requires that the major part of lheciti/eii> 
 should enjoy a certain weight in the administration. If this doe*; not 
 take place, the majority will be dissatisfied ; and where the majority 
 are dissatisfied, the government will soon be subverted '. " 
 
 Had the philosophic politician carried his supposition still far- 
 ther, and contemplated the possibility of a system in which the 
 great majority of the people should not only be excluded from all 
 \\eiuht and voice in the administration , but should be also disquali- 
 fied , by statute , for the acquisition of property , insulted . as well as 
 proscribed , for adherence to their faith , and , in every walk of life, 
 branded, as serfs and outcasts, what duration would the sage's 
 knowledge of human nature hav*e led him to assign to such a system ' 
 
 If in addition , too, to such a proscription of the great mass of the 
 people, he should be told that, even over the small, patronized 
 minority of its subjects, the government in question would usurp a 
 power, less glaring, but as base, of which corruption was the life- 
 blood and peculation the aliment , and to support which, therefore, 
 the interests and the rights of the whole community were made a 
 mailer of open traffic between their representatives and their rulers, 
 would he not have indignantly applied to a system so monstrous, 
 a system thus availing itself of all the worst uses to which the sword 
 and the purse are made subservient by power ' , his own strong 
 language, in speaking of the various causes of revolutions : " In 
 such hands authority itself becomes hateful ; and the feelings of man- 
 kind conspire with their reason to destroy <j government pregnant 
 only with mischief , deformed by peculation, and disgraced by in- 
 justice 3 . " 
 
 ' Aristotle, Poll:, lib. 3, cap. 7. '' Ubi enim mnlti ab honqre omni atque digni- 
 tate exclnduntiii. ibi multos reperiri hostes Relpublicae necesse est : iino plena m 
 tnlibus Rempublicam ac peiiitns difTertam esse." Heinsii Periph. 
 
 1 The whole coarse of the ruling party in Ireland, from 1782 to 1798, is thus 
 strongly and truly traced by Mr. Grattan : "They opposed the restoration of the 
 Constitution of Ireland ; they afterwards endeavoured to betray and undermine 
 it. They introduced a system of corruption unknown in the annals of Parlia- 
 ment Having, by snch proceedings, lost the affection of the people 
 
 cf Ireland , they resorted to a system of coercion to support a system of corruption . 
 which they closed by a system of torture , attendant on a conspiracy of which their 
 crimes were the cause." Letter to the Courier Newspaper, November, 1798. 
 
 3 'Tf>iofT Tt xati ten TIC ^aic x*> TX JKTOI/TV. The translali-m.
 
 i'08 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 By such as view in this light the system against \vliich Lord Ed- 
 ward raised the standard of revolt, the question as to the justifiable- 
 ness of his resistance will not be found difficult of decision ; nor 
 even among those who , while acknowledging the extent of the evil . 
 yet" shrink from the desperate nature of the remedy, will there be 
 found many who , on comparing the manifold enormities of the 
 aggressor with the long forborne vengeance of the wronged , can 
 feel a doubt as lo which of the two parties Ihe blame of that alter- 
 native must rest with , or hesitate lo pronounce , as Mr. Grattan did 
 deliberately in his place in the Irish House of Commons l " I think 
 now, as I thought then (1798), that the treason of the Minister 
 against the liberties of the people was infinitely worse than the rebel- 
 lion of the people against the Minister." 
 
 There are persons , it is true , the bias of whose thoughts and 
 feelings renders them incapable of considering the noble subject of 
 these pages in any other light than that of a rebel against legitimate 
 authority, and, as such, politically excluded from the circle of their 
 sympathies. But not so does the feeling of mankind in general re- 
 quite the generous martyrs of their common cause. Even where 
 contemporaries have been unjust 2 , Time, the great vindicator of 
 those who struggle for the Right, seldom fails to enforce a due 
 atonement to their memories , and , while on those who so long 
 resisted the just claims of the Irish people lies the blame of whatever 
 excesses they were ultimately driven to , the concession , late , but 
 effectual , of those measures of Emancipation and Reform which it 
 was the first object of Lord Edward and his brave associates to obtain, 
 lias set a seal upon the general justice of their cause which no power 
 of courts or courtiers can ever do away. 
 
 It is plain , however, that , strong as may be the inherent justice 
 of any cause, without some clear and rationally grounded probability 
 of success , an appeal to arms in its behalf can , by no means , be 
 justified ; the very interests of the great principle which is at issue 
 demanding , as a moral duly, from its defenders that they should nol 
 rashly expose themselves to the disgrace of failure , nor, by any 
 burst of weak violence , provoke a retaliation which .may only add 
 lo the fetters it is their purpose to break. With this sort of miscalcu- 
 lation , adversely as all thai depended upon chance turned out for 
 them , the leaders of the Irish Rebellion are , by no means , to be 
 
 or rather very loose paraphrase of the whole passage which I have given above , 
 is from Gillies. 
 
 1 Debate on the Union, Feb. 14, 1800. 
 
 1 Few have the courage, like Lord Chatham , to put the matter in its true light , 
 even while the storm is raging, or say, as he did, in the year 1777, "Those 
 AVhigs and freemen of America , whom yon, my lords, call rebels."
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 209 
 
 charged. It was truly said by Lord Halifax that " there is more 
 strength in union than in numbers ; " and the United Irishmen , in 
 combining both these sources of strength , secured to themselves 
 two of the surest elements of success '. When , in addition to this , 
 too , we lake into account the expected aid from France , the many 
 embarrassments in which England was involved at that crisis , the 
 disaffection of the Irish militias, and the unprepared state of defence 
 of the entire country, it will be confessed not to have been over san- 
 guine in the Chiefs of the Union to calculate upon a preponderance 
 of chances in their favour. 
 
 Even the rebellion that followed , mutilated as it was of native 
 strength , and unassisted from without , yet presented so formidable 
 a front as to incline Sir John Moore to the opinion that, had a French 
 force , at the same time , shown itself on the coast , the most serious , 
 if not fatal consequences must have ensued. As it was , the cost to 
 the government of no less than 20,000 lives 2 in putting down what 
 was but a partial movement of the Union, the North, its head- 
 quarters , having scarcely stirred , leaves awful room for conjec- 
 ture as to what might have been the result, had the whole organized 
 mass , under its first leaders , been set in motion. 
 
 Another point connected with and , in some instances , included 
 in the question of resistance , is that of the allowableness or expe- 
 diency of calling in foreign aid , a resource the peril of which to 
 national independence , in all cases , limits the occasions where it 
 can be at all justifiably employed to a very few. Where the will of 
 a majority of the people is declared in favour of a change, such aid 
 will , of course , be unnecessary. It is , therefore , in the very nature 
 of things , the sort of expedient most likely to be resorted to by a 
 small and desperate minority, or sometimes even by individuals, 
 
 ' How powerfully they were backed also by property will appear from the 
 following evidence of Dr. Mac Neven : 
 
 " Mr. Alexander. Although talents and education are to be found in the 
 Union, vet there is no comparison, in point of properly, between those who 
 invited the French and those who brought in King William. 
 
 "Dr. Mac Neven. Pardon ine, sir. I know many who possess much larger 
 properties than did Lord Danby who signed the invitation to the Prince of Orange , 
 or than did Lord Somers who was the great champion of the Revolution. The 
 property of the Union is immense; bat persons in a situation to be more easily 
 watched were not required to render themselves particularly conspicuons." 
 
 In Emmet's account of his own examination, too, we find, "I was asked by 
 many of the members whether there were many persons of property in the Union. 
 I answered that there was immense property in it. They acknowledged there was 
 great personal properly in it, but wished to know was there much lauded pro- 
 perty ; I answered there \v;is." 
 
 1 The calculation of the loss on both sides makes it 20,000 lives on the part of 
 the government, and 50,000 on that of the insurgents. 
 
 J4
 
 $10 MEMOIRS 1*98. 
 
 who, as in the case of Count Julian , the betrayer of Spain to the 
 Moors , or Mac Murchad , who first invited the English into Ireland , 
 have been able , in one reckless movement of revenge , to fix the 
 yoke of the stranger on their country's neck for ages. 
 
 That Lord Edward was well aware of the peril to which even the 
 purchased aid of France might expose his country's independence , 
 has been shown sufficiently in the course of these pages '. Soon 
 after his junction with the United Irishmen , a friend of his , who 
 approved perfectly of their objects , but had a strong objection to the 
 intention of calling in foreign aid , having expressed his opinions to 
 this effect , Lord Edward answered that , without such aid , it would 
 be impossible for them to accomplish their purpose. " This , then, 
 only proves ," replied his friend ( from whom I heard the anecdote) , 
 " that the country is not yet ripe for the design , and that you are 
 premature iu your movements. 11 
 
 Applied to a country not dependent upon the power of another, 
 this argument would have been conclusive. In the natural course of 
 affairs , indeed , the whole question of resistance , as well as of re- 
 course to foreign succour, lies within a very simple compass. Where 
 the great bulk of a people are disposed to change their government 
 for a better, they have not only the right to do so, but, being the 
 majority, have also the power. In this case, therefore, the inter- 
 vention of foreign assistance is unnecessary. It happens sometimes , 
 however, that the right is not thus backed by the power, as in Ire- 
 land, at the time we are speaking of, and some years before in 
 America , where the malcontents , though strong on their own land, 
 yet constituted but a minority of the whole empire , and the arm of 
 the stranger from without , however hazardous the alliance , pre- 
 sented one of their few chances of liberation from the intruder w ilhin. 
 In Ireland , as we have seen , this alternative was adopted with re- 
 luctance and fear 5 but so little did the Americans hesitate in resorting 
 to such aid that , in the first public ^declaration of their independence 
 of Great Britain (May 15th , 1776 ) , the second sentence stated that 
 " measures were to be immediately taken for procuring the assist- 
 ance of foreign powers." The example of England in 1688 , to which 
 the United Irishmen constantly referred , as a justification of their 
 own conduct in inviting foreign aid , was by no means a case in 
 point, and went to establish , indeed, a far more dangerous pre- 
 cedent $ it being , in that instance , against a native government that 
 the aid of the foreigner was called in , and not only by a minority 
 of the nation , but that minority composed chiefly of the aristocracy, 
 
 ' "I believe, latterly, Lord Edward was rather afraid of invasion, lest the 
 French should conquer Ireland, and therefore urge"d on the insurrection." 
 Neihon's Evidence before the Secret Committee.
 
 1793. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 211 
 
 a class who assuredly have not always shown themselves so worthy 
 as on that occasion of being the sole arbiters and disposers of a 
 whole people's destiny. 
 
 For the excesses and , in more than one instance , cold-blooded 
 cruellies by which the rebellion that followed Lord Edward's arrest 
 was disgraced , neither he nor any of those leaders who first directed 
 its movements, and the spirit of whose views and counsels had de- 
 parted with themselves , are to be considered at all responsible. In 
 reference to a Proclamation , of a sanguinary character, found upon 
 one of the Sheares's , Mr. Emmet declared , in his examination be- 
 fore the Lords , that he entirely ''disapproved of it , that the old 
 Executive had never meant to spill blood, but rather to retain men 
 of a certain rank as hostages , and if they found them hostile to the 
 Revolutionary Government , to send them out of the country." 
 
 Even while present and in full activity, the authority of these 
 chiefs had not been able so to "turn and wind" the fiery spirit 
 they had excited , as to prevent it from breaking out into violences 
 the most abhorrent to their own natures ; and the charge brought 
 against Lord Edward and his friends of having connived at , if not 
 encouraged, the circulation of an infamous paper, called "the Union 
 Star," the professed object of which was to point out victims for th 
 assassin's dagger, was , by that class of partisans who believe any 
 thing of an enemy, received with ready credence. In a similar man- 
 ner, we know, the schemes of the underlings , in the Rye-House 
 Plot , were assumed as matter of real charge and odium against 
 their principals. But the same justice which repels from the memo- 
 ries of such men as Lord Russell and Sydney any suspicion of 
 having sanctioned the cowardly crime of assassination , will reject , 
 with no less indignant promptness, any such aspersion on the name 
 of Lord Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 Of the natural endowments and dispositions of his lordship little 
 more remains to be said. His acquisitions from education or study 
 were , as may be concluded from the active tenor of his life , not 
 very extensive : but he had a retentiveness of memory which, in 
 some degree, supplied the place of study, by enabling him to trea- 
 sure up with selection and accuracy whatever he heard in conversa- 
 tion. In thus arriving, too, at the contents of books through other 
 men's minds , he became acquainted at once both with the men and 
 the books , instead of studying, in his closet, only the latter. While 
 this faculty was of such advantage to him , as a man of the world , 
 he had a quickness of eye no less remarkable and useful to him , in 
 his profession , as a soldier. The most hasty glance , in passing 
 through a tract of country, was sufficient , it is said , to put him in 
 possession of all its bearings and military positions : not a ridge or
 
 212 MEMOIRS ' 1798. 
 
 a stream escaped him as he went, and he could have mapped it alt, 
 immediately after, with the utmost accuracy. 
 
 By these latter remarks we are led naturally to a consideration of 
 his lordship's military character, a point of view in which he will 
 be found to stand pre-eminent, as, in addition to his great courage 
 and early experience , he appears , also , from the report of persons 
 who were acquainted with his opinions, to have taken enlarged and 
 original views of his art, and to have anticipated some of those lights, 
 on military subjects , which Ihe bolder spirit of modern warfare has, 
 since his time , elicited. 
 
 It will be recollected that immediately after he had joined the 
 United Irishmen , their system of organization , which had before 
 been purely civil, was converted, with scarcely any other change 
 than that of the titles of the officers, into a most efficient system of 
 military force ; and it is a proof of the skill and foresight with which 
 this mode of organization had been devised , that not only did it thus 
 easily admit of being turned into a compact national armament, but 
 that , from the sound principles of representation on which the whole 
 scheme was constructed, and the facility it afforded of transmitting 
 the will of the Executive to the people, it presented ready made, 
 when wanted, in the event of their struggle succeeding, the 
 complete frame-work of a provisional , if not of a permanent go- 
 vernment. 
 
 In training the people to arms , it was the opinion of Lord Ed- 
 ward , that till they had been perfected in that first rudiment of sol- 
 diership, marching, or, in other words, moving through equal 
 spaces in equal times , till they had been also brought to a suffi- 
 cient degree of celerity and precision in forming from column to 
 line , and from line to column , and in executing these changes of 
 position by dispersion and re-formation , it was altogether premature 
 to think of placing arms in their hands. So far was he, indeed, 
 from being impatient to see the people armed that, for this as well 
 as other reasons , his utmost efforts were directed to repress that 
 habit so long prevalent among the lower orders of Irish , of provid- 
 ing themselves with weapons by the plunder of gentlemen's nouses ; 
 his constant observation being that "till the arms were wanted, 
 they would be safest and best taken care of in the hands of their 
 present owners." 
 
 Even for the purpose of training troops to be good marksmen , 
 he had a notion , it seems , that fire-arms might be dispensed with , 
 and the expense of the ammunition which target-practice requires 
 be saved. Having observed , while in America , that the Indians, 
 who are almost all expert marksmen , have attained this accuracy 
 of aim by the use of the bow and arrow while young , he was of
 
 1798. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 213 
 
 opinion that, among the means of training a people to national war- 
 fare , the same economical mode of practice might be adopted , 
 the habit of aiming at a mark with any missile , whether bow or 
 sling, being sure to establish that sort of sympathy between the hand 
 and eye which enables the execution of the one to follow instantly 
 the direction of the other, and this precision of aim once acquired, 
 being , with little difficulty, transferable to the use of the musket 
 or rifle. 
 
 That Lord Edward may have thrown out this ingenious sugges- 
 tion in conversation can be easily believed; but that he had any 
 serious notions of adopting it in his system of military organization 
 for Ireland , appears somewhat questionable. 
 
 Another peculiarity of opinion attributed to him is that of having 
 preferred the rifle , as an arm of common use , to the musket ; an 
 opinion which is at variance , at least , with the first military autho- 
 rity of our age, who has declared "que le fusil est la meilleure 
 machine de guerre qui ait ete invenlee par les hommes ' ; " an opi- 
 nion , of the sincerity of which there could not be a better practical 
 proof than that, in the whole Imperial army, there was not a single 
 rifle. Whatever may have been Lord Edward's theory on the sub- 
 ject , it is certain that there occurs no mention of this description 
 of arms in any of the Returns made to the Irish Executive by its 
 officers , nor does it appear in what manner the supply of them , 
 counted upon, it is alleged, by Lord Edward, was to be obtained. 
 It is , indeed , stated that a depdt of such arms was, by his orders, 
 preparing at Brest , which , when the proper time should arrive , 
 were to be run over in luggers, and landed ; but for this supposition 
 I cannot find any satisfactory evidence. 
 
 Of his lordship's other views, on military subjects, as conveyed 
 in the conversations reported to me , I have not space sufficient to 
 enter into any details. But , on all the points connected with the 
 sort of warfare he was about to engage in , the advantages to be 
 derived from the peculiarities , both moral and physical , of the 
 country -, from the equal diffusion of the population over its whole 
 surface , enabling every district to produce its own army, and thus 
 saving the expense and disorganization of long marches; the ac- 
 count to which superiority of numbers may be turned by the power 
 they give of outflanking the enemy, the prudence of avoiding 
 pitched battles % the disadvantage of being the assailant in moun- 
 
 1 Napoleon's Notes upon Rognard's Art de la Guerre. 
 
 1 " In imitation of the Central Juntas, they call oat for a battle and early suc- 
 cess. If I had hail the power, I would have prevented the Spanish armies from 
 attending to this call ; and, if I had , the cause would now have been safe." Duke 
 of Wellington's tetters to the Portuguese Reencj.
 
 214 MEMOIRS 1798. 
 
 lain war ', on all these , and other such tactical points , the mind 
 of Lord Edward seems to have been considerably in advance of his 
 contemporaries , and to have anticipated much that a long expe- 
 rience in warfare has taught to Europe since. 
 
 At the time of the search after him on the 12th of March , there 
 was found in his writing-box, at Leinster-House , a paper, which 
 is generally supposed to have been the production of his own pen , 
 and with the insertion of which , therefore , I shall conclude this part 
 of my subject. 
 
 " If ever any unfortunate cause should put our city, with the other 
 parts of the country, into the possession of a cruel and tyrannical 
 enemy, whose government might, by repeated oppressions, drive 
 us into the last stage of desperate resistance, our conduct then 
 should be regulated in a manner best calculated for obtaining 
 victory. 
 
 " The following thoughts are humbly offered for the inspection 
 of every real Irishman. 
 
 "In such a case every man ought to consider how that army 
 could be attacked or repelled , and what advantage their discipline 
 and numbers might give them in a populous city, acting in concert 
 with the adjoining counties. 
 
 " It is well known that an officer of any skill in his profession 
 would be very cautious of bringing the best disciplined troops into 
 a large city in a state of insurrection , for the following reasons : 
 
 " His troops , by the breadth of the streets , are obliged to have 
 a very narrow front , and however numerous , only three men deep 
 can be brought into action , which in the widest of our streets cannot 
 be more than sixty men 5 as a space must be left on each side or 
 flank , for the men who discharge to retreat to the rear, that their 
 places may be occupied by the next in succession , who are loaded ; 
 so , though there are a thousand men in a street , not more than 
 sixty can act at one time , and should they be attacked fay an irre- 
 gular body armed with pikes or such bold weapons , if the sixty men 
 in front were defeated , the whole body, however numerous , are 
 unable to assist, and immediately become a small mob in uniform, 
 from the inferiority of their number, in comparison to the people , 
 and easily disposed of. 
 
 "Another inconvenience might destroy the order of this army. 
 Perhaps at the same moment , they may be dreadfully galled from 
 
 1 "The attacking party in mountain warfare Will have the disadvantage." 
 Reveries du Marechal de Saxe. In a similar manuer, Colonel Napier (without ever 
 having, as he assures me , read Marechal of Saxe) says, " He who receives J>attlr 
 in the hills has always the advantage."
 
 i;y8. OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 515 
 
 the house-lops, by showers of bricks, copins-slones, etc. , which 
 may be at hand, without imitating the women of Paris, who car- 
 ried the stones of the unpaved streets to the windows and tops of the 
 houses in their aprons '. 
 
 "Another disadvantage on the part of the soldiers would be, that, 
 as they are regulated by the word of command , or stroke of the 
 drum , they must be left to their individual discretion , as such 
 communications must be drowned in the noise and clamour of a 
 popular tumult. 
 
 " In the next place , that part of the populace, who could not gel 
 into the engagement, would be employed in unpaving the streels, 
 so as lo impede the movements of horse or artillery ; and in the ave- 
 nues whore the army were likely to pass, numbers would be en- 
 gaged forming barriers of hogsheads, carts, cars, counters, doors, etc., 
 the forcing of which barriers by the army .would be disputed , while 
 like ones wore forming at every twenty or thirty yards , or any con- 
 venient distances the situalion mighl require ; should such precau- 
 tions be well observed , Ihe progress of an army through one street 
 or over one bridge would be very tedious , and attended with great 
 loss, if it would not be destroyed. At the same time the neighbour- 
 ing counties might rise in a mass and dispose of the troops scattered 
 in their vicinity, and prevent a junction or a passage of any army 
 intended for the city ; they would tear up the roads and barricade 
 every convenient distance with trees , timber, implements of hus- 
 bandry, etc. , at Ihe same lime lining Ihe hedges, walls, ditches, 
 and houses , with men armed with muskets , who would keep up a 
 NN oil-directed fire. 
 
 "However well exercised standing armies are supposed to be, 
 by frequent reviews , and sham bailies , they are never prepared 
 for broken roads , or enclosed fields , in a country like ours covered 
 with innumerable and continued interseclions of dilches and hedges, 
 every one of which is an advanlage to an irregular body, and may 
 with advantage be disputed , against an army, as so many fortifi- 
 cations and intrenchments. 
 
 " The people in Ihe cily would have a'n advanlage by being armed 
 with pikes or such weapons. The firsl altack if possible should be 
 made by men whose pikes were nine or ten feel long -, by lhal means 
 they could act in ranks deeper lhan the soldiery, whose arms are 
 
 1 "The soldier, if posted in the streets of a town, will be assailed from the roofs 
 and windows of the houses and lost. He cannot remain there; nor is he much 
 Letter off, if in (he squares surrounded hy houses. The examples of Warsaw , that 
 of Ghent , and of Brussels in 1789, sufficiently demonstrate the truth of what I 
 advance." BULOW, Spirit of Modern System of War.
 
 216 MEMOIRS, etc. 17<>S. 
 
 much shorter ; then the deep files of the pike-men , by being weight- 
 ier, must easily break the thin order of the army. 
 
 "The charge of the pike-men should be made in a smart trot. 
 On the flank or extremity of every rank , there should be intrepid 
 men placed to keep the fronts even, that, at closing, every point 
 should tell together. They should have at the same time two or three 
 like bodies at convenient distances in the rear, who would be brought 
 up, if wanting , to support the front , which would give confidence 
 to their brothers in action , as it would tend to discourage the enemy. 
 At the same time there should be in the rear of each division some 
 men of spirit to keep the ranks as close as possible. 
 
 "The apparent strength of the army should not intimidate, as 
 closing on it makes its powder and ball useless : all its superiority 
 is in fighting at a distance; all its skill ceases, and all its action 
 must be suspended, when it once is within reach of the pike. 
 
 " The reason of printing and writing this is to remind the people 
 of discussing military subjects." 
 
 On the 27th of July, 1798, a Bill was brought forward by the 
 Attorney-General for the Attainder of Lord Edward Fitzgerald , Cor- 
 nelius Grogan , and Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey. After a long dis- 
 cussion and examination of witnesses in both Houses , the Bill passed 
 the House of Lords in the month of September, and received the 
 Royal Assent in the October following. 
 
 From among the letters and documents in my possession con- 
 nected with the history of Lord Edward's Attainder, I shall select 
 such as appear to me most generally interesting , and throw them 
 into the form of an Appendix for the conclusion of the volume.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 FROM COLONEL NAPIER TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 " Celbridge, July aSth, 1798. 
 " Mv DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I feel it incumbent on me to apprise you that Mr. Toler has most 
 humanely thought proper to move for leave to hring in a hill of attainder 
 for the purpose of confiscating the property of your poor brother, as well 
 as that of B. Harvey and Grogan Knox. For his attempt on the estates of 
 tlu- t\vo last, there exists some pretext, as they were tried and condemned 
 by a court martial ; but this wanton posthumous malignity to Lord Eld- 
 ward is repugnant to every principle of law and equity, and diametri- 
 cally opposite to the spirit of the constitution, which presumes every 
 man innocent until he has been fairly tried and convicted. However, it 
 accords well with the illiberal rapacity of the prevailing faction in this 
 miserable country , which will move hell and earth to carry the measure 
 into effect, unless you succeed in disappointing their inhuman avarice by 
 a timely application to his majesty, in any manner you judge most likely 
 to prevail. 
 
 " Lord Cornwallis's avowed predilection for humane and conciliatory 
 measures gives great offence to the Rnbespierres , Neros , and Caligulas 
 of this country, but is applauded by every prudent man , as well as every 
 friend to humanity, and I have strong hopes he will succeed in tranquil- 
 lizing the public mind, of which desirable object (if it be obtained) he 
 must have the sole merit, as nobody can accuse his counsellors of being 
 so weak as to sacrifice either personal interest, or contemptible and in- 
 discriminate resentment, to the softer sentiments of liberality and com- 
 passion. 
 
 " Adieu , my dear lord. Present my respects to Lady Henry , with Lady 
 Sarah's Jove to you both , and believe me yours most sincerely, 
 
 "GEOKGE NAPIER." 
 
 FROM THE DUKE OF RICHMOND TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "Goodwood, August (4> 1 79- 
 " MY DEAR HEJJRY, 
 
 "As Mr. Ogilvie will, I believe, write to you pretty fully, and the 
 position of writing hurts my stomach, 1 shall not trouble you long to-
 
 21 S APPENDIX. 
 
 day; but I will, as shortly as I can, state my opinion , which is, that 
 you , as trustee for the children, should instruct counsel to oppose the 
 bill, after presenting a petition to be heard against it in their behalf: 
 that you should direct your counsel not to attempt any defence, alleging 
 that it is impossible to defend a dead man against accusations of a personal 
 nature, which he alone is competent to controvert; but which, never- 
 theless, cannot be admitted till proved, and cannot be proved now, be- 
 cause there is no possibility of hearing the accused in his own defence , 
 and without hearing, no man can, in justice, be condemned or con- 
 victed : that therefore, even supposing all Mr. Reynolds or any other 
 witness may swear to be true, it cannot be received as such , or as suffi- 
 cient to convict a man in a court of justice , unless the accused has an 
 opportunity of opposing that evidence by other evidence ; and that he who 
 knew whether he was guiltv or not being dead , and consequently in- 
 capable of defending himself, no one else can : that almost all the acts of 
 attainder in the statute-book are made against persons alive, who have 
 fled from justice, and give them a day to appear and defend themselves ; 
 if they do not, then their non-appearance is taken for admission, and 
 they are, upon that, adjudged guilty ; but this calling on them to appeal- 
 proves the necessity of hearing them , or at least of giving them an op- 
 portunity to be heard. 
 
 " Of persons who are dead being attainted there are few examples I 
 rather believe none since the Revolution ; and the only one I can find 
 before, is the attainder of Oliver Cromwell and the regicides imme- 
 diately after the Restoration. That case will be allowed to be a singular 
 one , and the grounds on which it went was the notoriety of their guilt ; 
 and certainly no man would deny but that it was notorious that Oliver 
 Cromwell had usurped the regal power , and that those who publicly sat 
 in judgment on Charles the First and condemned him had been concerned 
 in his death. But surely such notoriety is very different from an overt act 
 consisting of private meetings, speeches, papers, commissions, or re- 
 ceiving money to stir up a rebellion. These overt acts may have taken 
 place , but they are not matters of public notoriety like that which alone 
 was thought sufficient to found this single act of attainder against dead 
 persons. The charges against Edward are, undoubtedly, of a very differ- 
 ent description , and such as are not known but by the evidence of one 
 or two men, which evidence he might possibly have disproved; and 
 therefore upon such ex parle allegations to attaint, not the man, but his 
 innocent children , must be the height of injustice. 
 
 " On these grounds, I should advise your counsel to say that he will 
 not pretend to enter upon any defence ^ and thereby give a countenance 
 to such a proceeding ; but that he protests against it as a measure contrary 
 to the first principles of justice. I think this will be far better than get- 
 ting into a dispute about his being more or less concerned; in which 
 Reynolds would swear what he pleased , which could not be disproved : 
 and, besides, entering into all this might involve Lady Edward, and 
 raise a spirit against them both. All this would be avoided byyourcounsrl 
 not attempting any defence, but only protesting against the measure. I 
 am, also, clear that Lady Edward should barely petition on the same 
 grounds, and make no defence ; and, above all, that her affidavit should
 
 APPENDIX. 2 in 
 
 not be produced. The protest of your counsel should also be renewed, 
 when the bill comes on in the House of Lords. 
 " Adieu, ever yours, 
 
 " Most sincerely and affectionately , 
 
 "RICHMOND , etc." 
 
 FROM COLONEL NAPIER TO GEORGE PONSONBY, ESQ. 
 
 " Castletown , August i5, 1798. 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " As I understand there is much merit assumed by ministers for their 
 lenity in excepting Lord Robert Fitzgerald from the consequences of their 
 posthumous malignity to Lord Edward and his unfortunate family, and 
 that they attempt to deceive the world by pretending that their humane 
 condescension secures to Lord Robert and his heirs the honours of the 
 family , I trust you wrll excuse my taking the liberty to suggest the case 
 of Earl Kilmarnock to your contemplation, as somewhat in point on the 
 present occasion. He was tried, attainted, and beheaded during the life 
 of his aunt , the Countess of Errol , who , on her demise many years sub- 
 sequent to his execution , was succeeded in her title and estate by his 
 son, Lord Boyd, her grand-nephew ; and this hajjpened without any re- 
 newal of the attainder, or any interference of the crown. 
 
 " I shall make no apology for troubling you with this letter, because 
 an excuse would imply a doubt of the sincerity and zeal with which T 
 have seen you adopt the cause of Lord Edward's orphans, whose interest 
 on this occasion is, in my humble opinion , intimately blended with that 
 of the Constitution, since the ministers themselves affirm , they are neither 
 actuated by resentment against the dead , nor malevolence to the living. 
 I therefore conceive it a fair logical deduction to conclude, that the mea- 
 sure has 'plus in capite quam in fronte promittit!' and having long 
 observed the subsisting variance betwixt these ' honourable men' and the 
 Constitution, I can divine no other enemy to the object of their unrelent- 
 ing hostility. Our slight acquaintance scarcely warrants the length of 
 this letter, but there are some subjects which would make even a 
 Spartan prolix. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, 
 
 " Dear sir, 
 "Yours, with much regard, 
 
 " GEO. NAPIKR." 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 "Ca&tletown, August atith, 1598. 
 " MY DKAREST BROTHER , 
 
 "Yesterday an express came from Sligo, to give notice that three 
 French frigates were on that coast; and from an express this moment re- 
 ceived from Mr. Conolly , who is at Lord Ross's, near En ni ski lien , we 
 learn that eighteen hundred men arc landed. The troops , of course , are 
 all under orders for immediate movements : - the yeomanry ordered to
 
 2JO APP001X. 
 
 do duty again. Lord Cormvallis probably won't neglect all possible means 
 of defence, and \vehope to look on this event as good news; for where 
 the governor is an honest, sincere, and able character, and the bulk of 
 the people sincerely against giving up the kingdom to France, surely 
 it is a good thing to show, on one side, to republicans, how little chance 
 they have of success, and, on the other, to detestable leeches of their 
 country that words and murders are not the way to prove loyalty , but 
 danger and real fighting. We shall now see who is the true or the soi- 
 disant friend of Ireland. 
 
 " All things considered , it seems not to have given any sensible person 
 the least alarm, and I trust will prove only a predatory descent. I will 
 write you word what bulletins say, for more we are not likely to know; 
 and yet bulletins were so false in Lord Camden's reign that they were 
 not to be depended on, but I trust they will now wear the fashion of the 
 times which Lord Cornwallis's plain dealing seems to give; for nothing 
 ever was equal to the effect his clemency has had on all. Those who sin- 
 cerely approve of it seem relieved from anxious misery ; those who affect 
 to approve do it with so bad a grace that it is quite ridiculous, and many 
 abuse him openly, so that the Castle-yard is become a medley of more 
 truth than ever was heard in it for years past. 
 
 " I say nothing , my dearest brother , about our, most interesting sub- 
 ject of affliction; it is too heart-rending to enter on. But what you would 
 never suspect possible , in persons who ought to be so tenderly attached 
 to my beloved sister ' , no signs ofjeeling accompany their conduct. She 
 feels hurt and miserable, yet is trying to conquer her feelings, not to 
 show them coolness. Oh , my dearest brother , she is not made for this 
 world : her angelic mind passes on them for indifference , and almost for 
 approbation of their conduct, so little do they know her who ought to 
 know her well ! 
 
 " This whole week has been passed in accusing, judging, condemning, 
 and ruining, the characters and properties of poor Edward and his fa- 
 mily; and on Sunday Lord and Lady Castlereagh , Mr. and Mrs. P., 
 Mr. and Mrs. F., have made a party to come and dine, and stay here, 
 because Lord Hobart comes ; so that all Dublin will hear that the very 
 people who passed the week in plunging daggers in Louisa's heart hallow 
 the seventh day, by a junket to her house! Mrs. P. is indeed just landed 
 from England, and Mr. P., we have reason to believe, has av aided the 
 House of Commons as much as he could ; but Lady Castlereagh and 
 Mrs. French went to the House of Commons to hear their intimate ac- 
 quaintance, Lady Edward, traduced and ruined; and the nephew of 
 their aunt, Mr. French, spokeybrthe bill of attainder; and Lord Castle- 
 reagh I firmly believe to be the chief mover and pursuer of the prosecu- 
 tion against Lady Edward. But Louisa thinks otherwise, and therefore , 
 if you write, say nothing on that subject as coming from me , because 
 my hatred to him vexes her, and never opens her eyes at all; therefore , 
 having once done my duty in putting her on her guard against a false 
 heart, I have done, and avoid giving her the least additional pain. Adieu, 
 dearest brother. "Ever yours, 
 
 "S.-V" 
 
 ' Lady Louisa Ounlly.
 
 APPENDIX. 331 
 
 FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 "Castle-town, agih August, 1798. 
 
 " 1 have no news I can authenticate as coming from Lord Cornwallis, 
 dearest brother ; but from Dublin I find that the French landed great 
 stores, threw up works, and on finding the rebellion in a different stage 
 from what they expected, are trying to get off; but it is believed they 
 must be taken by land or by sea, as such paius are taken to catch them. 
 The reports of risings are terribly manufactured by agitators on both sides, 
 orangemen and rebels Government, of course, keeps it down as much 
 as possible; so that you see, from the nature of such a critical landing, 
 one cannot expect to hear truth , and one must trust to one's own judg- 
 ment on the reports. 
 
 "From what we learn here, I think numbers are on the wing, but 
 dare not fly, because they still doubt the success, and because greater 
 numbers by far plainly declare they will not stir from their harvest work , 
 and that they will fight the French, who are only come to rob them of 
 the harvest. Besides this, there are, to my certain knowledge, a set of 
 the worst rebels , who have offered the officer of the City Cork Militia , 
 quartered here , to set off under his command , and with his soldiers 
 (famous anti-rebels, but not Orangemen), to attack the French; and, 
 also, to my certain knowledge, there is a banditti here, who are trying 
 to muster up a little corps of robbers, who, at all events, will enrich 
 themselves, and, perhaps, appear under the name of United I., if the 
 French succeed , and by that means evade law. So now you have the pro 
 and con in a small circle. 
 
 " I suspect the same sentiments are in the balance in the larger circle , 
 and that Lord Cornwallis, by taking the field with ten thousand men , 
 has two objects ; the first to secure the banks of the Shannon , which 
 form a barrier to all Connaught, and prevents a junction of French and 
 northern enemies. Secondly , if it all melts away , he relies on his own 
 conduct at the head of a large army to impress the guilty with fear, and 
 the doubtful with confidence in his government and his character. If I 
 am right, I hope we shall soon see the good effects of his government , 
 notwithstanding the dreadful villauy with which every principle he holds 
 out seems to be counteracted in an underhand way. 
 
 "I will not enter on the subject of the attainder, as I have hitherto 
 been so careful not to mention what appears to me to admit of sucli deep 
 researches , before one can venture to assert any thing on the subject ; 
 but the newspaper and common accounts I will transcribe : on a long 
 and interesting debate, in which Mr. Egan spoke finely, the third read- 
 ing came on on 3Ionday, and the votes 42 to g. It is said, ' many people 
 who would have voted against the bill, seeing so large a majority, went 
 out ; ' from which it appears that these persons ( who certainly prove one 
 cannot serve God and Mammon), finding their interest in opposition to 
 their conscience , left the field at the moment of conquest ; for had they 
 stayed , the division might have run equal ; and had the vote been delayed 
 one day, Mr. Conollyjust come up to town, yesterday, would have added 
 one, and the Duke of Lcinster, expected to-day, would, perhaps, have
 
 252 APPENDIX 
 
 influenced others. By a near vote the question would have come into the 
 House of Lords with double strength for opposition but what then? 
 Lord * * has, with his usual weakness of character, been frightened out 
 of his zeal, by the Chancellor (I suppose), though I don't know more than 
 that \\ejlinches. 
 
 " The Chancellor, I suppose you heard, said, with his wonted dicta- 
 torial style, that your queries were inadmissible ' ; and of course it re- 
 quired no very great spirit of prophecy, I think , to be assured, as I was 
 from the beginning , that , 'to consult with one's enemy how one is to 
 beat him , ' was not a very probable means of conquering." 
 
 FROM THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX TO LORD HENRI FITZGERALD. 
 
 "My DEAR HENRY, 
 
 "I have not written hitherto, because I had nothing to suggest to be 
 done for our poor Edward's heirs, and partly because I had hoped, from 
 an account in the newspaper, which I now dud was an erroneous one, 
 that the business was dropped. I see a petition has been presented from 
 Lady Edward on behalf, as I suppose , of her children , as well as her- 
 self; but I cannot express the degree to which I am astonished at not 
 seeing any notice taken of this abominable proceeding in any of the news- 
 papers, who are constantly praising Lord Coruwallis's clemency, at a 
 time when a bill is going on exceeding in injustice and tyranny all the past. 
 
 " I do not know how poor Edward's property was disposed of, nor 
 whether his children inherit from him by will, by settlement, or as 
 heirs-at-law, nor , perhaps, is this material, but I should like to know. 
 Dr. Brown, of the College, who is the only attending member of the 
 Irish Parliament that I am acquainted with, is, I hear, in England , but 
 if you think it would be of any use that the Ponsonbys should be written 
 to, that may easily be done. My opinion is, that nothing can be of any 
 use , unless it were a strong representation to Lord Cornwallis, nor should 
 I hope much even from that; but my opinion still is, that the thing is 
 too bad to be possible, and yet, after all that has been done, this is , 
 perhaps, a foolish and certainly a sanguine opinion 1 know^ ho\\ the 
 whole of this subject affects you, but, in the present moment, it is im- 
 possible not to think upon it. 
 
 " Yours ever affectionately, 
 
 "C.J. Fox. 
 
 1 Tlte following are die queries, here alluded to, as haviug beeu submitted by the 
 Duke of Richmond to Lord Clare : 
 
 " ist. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws of 
 the land, to institute a criminal proceeding against a man after his decease, and to 
 hear evidence against him , when he cannot he heard in his defence ? 
 
 " ad. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws of 
 the land, upon such a proceeding, to adjudge a man guilty who has not been con- 
 victed or tried whilst living ? 
 
 " 3d. Whether it be consistent with the known constitutional justice and laws of 
 the land , to make such a judgment the foundation of a further proceeding to affect 
 the property of his heirs?"
 
 APPENDIX. 22:5 
 
 " P. S. If the bill should pass the Irish Parliament, I think there should 
 certainly be a petition to the king against it, in which , 1 take for granted, 
 the Duke of Richmond would concur." 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 "Castletown, Sept. zd , 1798. 
 
 " No news of any importance has yet reached us , my dearest brother, 
 but your own judgment must point out to you the doubtful state of Ire- 
 land, which entirely depends on the French landing in sufficient force to 
 make it worth while for all U. I. men to join them ; and even then it 
 would , I trust, be more than they can accomplish to surmount the im- 
 mense number of persons of common <sense who dread a French govern- 
 ment, and will with sincere zeal join their efforts to give the army , 
 under Lord Cornwallis , their utmost help. Not so, had Lord Camden 
 and Lord Carhampton remained , for no human being can bring them- 
 selves to depend on the weak or ignorant , or on the false help they 
 lend. It is like the description of Egypt in the Bible ' Trust not to Egypt, 
 for like the broken reed she will bruise thy side if thou rest upon her. ' 
 So that we must consider the moment in which Lord Cornwallis was 
 fixed on to come here as salvation to Ireland; for the balance turned in- 
 stanlly on his coming , and disposed the common people to consider the 
 change of government as an object within their sphere. They told my 
 sister and I , ' Sure this is a brave man they 've sint us now , he holds the 
 swonrd of war, and the swoord of pace , and sure we may do as we like 
 now. ' 
 
 " This in two words shows you they consider him as a respectable 
 being, whom it is worth while to be cautious in attacking, and Paddy 
 is shrewd enough if he gives himself time to think. Now as this landing 
 is (hitherto) only 1800 men at the most , and called by government 
 700 only , Paddy has full leisure to think , and does think , I promise you, 
 on this occasion. For example, about -200 stragglers have joined the 
 French , who began by hanging eight men for giving false information : 
 poor Paddy never thought one was to be hanged for lying, and is wofullv 
 discomposed. Then the French put the rebels in front of the battle , and 
 this was not civil; consequently , Paddy is all ears and eyes just now y 
 but steadily at harvest, securing the main chance, for if the French land 
 in force, and gain battle after battle, then it is time after Jiarvest to join 
 with their pockets full of money. 
 
 " This , according to my own observation , is the general state of mimi 
 of rebellious subjects ; and of good subjects one may easily guess the state 
 of anxiety, as so much depends on chance. We do not yet hear of any 
 other landing, and if they try , you know there is, thank God! many a 
 chance in our favour , l>oth by sea and land. In short, to be frightened is 
 folly to be anxious is natural and unavoidable, for on private accounts 
 one must feel strong sensations of fear alx)ut individuals now exposed to 
 battle any day against an active, brave, and clever enemy. 
 
 "Lord Yelverton has made a charming declaration on the second
 
 224 APPENDIX. 
 
 reading of the bill of attainder in the House of Lords, which bill has been 
 U'ied to be hurried through with shameful haste, but now I trust the 
 protest will have an excellent protector. The Duke of Leinster ' just ar- 
 rived, safe and well wretchedly low, poor soul! My dearest brother, 
 how every thing gives me reason to love you better and better every day 
 Adieu. 
 
 "Believe me ever yours." 
 
 In a subsequent letter from the same lively pen, the fair writer says 
 "I hope you will read all the debates on the attainder bill; and not 
 wonder if the Irish Parliament now tempts one to wish for A Union with 
 England, to mortify those lawgivers to their country, who have made 
 so unjust a use of their power over their countrymen." The declaration 
 of the Chief Baron , Lord Yelverton, referred to in the foregoing letter, 
 was to the effect that he "would oppose the bill, as unjust, illegal, and 
 inconsistent with the gracious principle of mercy and lenience , which 
 formed the leading character of Lord Cornwallis's administration." 
 
 In the course of the debates on the subject , Lord Clare said with con- 
 siderable feeling , in referring to some circumstances connected with 
 Lord Edward's death , that " he well remembered them, for, a short time 
 before the death took place, he was witness to one of the most painful 
 a"nd melancholy scenes he had ever experienced." 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 "September n, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR BROTHER, 
 
 " The bulletin * , which I cannot get , but which will be in the papers, 
 I suppose, will tell you all the particulars we know, and General Lake's 
 panegyrics on every body -will speak for themselves. * * * * 
 
 1 I avail myself of the mention here of this most amiable nobleman to say a few 
 words relative to his short secession from the Whig party in 1788 , to which some- 
 what too strong a character may seem to have been given in earlier passages of this 
 work. It appecrs from Hardy ( Memoirs of Lord Charlemont ) , who does but justice to 
 the character of the Duke, in describing him as " proverbially liberal ," that not only 
 his Grace, but the greater number of the Irish Whigs of that period, were so far sa- 
 tisfied with the Marquis of Buckingham's administration, as, during the whole of 
 the session of 1788, to offer but little, if any, opposition to his government. " The 
 charge, indeed (adds Hardy), against this opposition, differed totally. from the ge- 
 neral accusations preferred against them. They were not said to endanger public 
 tranquillity, but they gave no unnecessary molestation to government, and were 
 therefore guilty, according to some persons, of the most inexpiable crime." The Duke 
 of Leinster, it is true , was one of those who, by taking office, gave a more decided 
 sanction to the government j but the general leaning of his own party in the sains 
 direction took from his conduct, on that occasion, all that, in the remotest degree, 
 deserves the name of apostasy. 
 
 ' The Bulletin which gave an account of the surrender to General Lake of Humbert 
 and his small army, at nallinamuck. " It must ever remain ( says Plowden) a humi- 
 liating reflection upon the lustre and power of the British arms that so pitiful a de- 
 tachment as that of eleveu hundred French infantry should , in a kingdom in which
 
 APPENDIX. J2S 
 
 Your curiosity will naturally lead yon to wish for information relative to 
 the minds of the Irish on this occasion. The little information I can give 
 you will lead you to judge for yourself. In a letter from a very sensible , 
 goodman in the North , who heads a yeomanry corps , are these words : 
 
 " ' What I foretold, in February, has now taken place, that distinction 
 of religions would produce the worst evils. The five corps of this gar- 
 rison are equally divided in persuasions , and did live in the most perfect 
 cordiality till now, when within these few days there has arisen dissen- 
 sions almost coming to blows. The cause of this change in the minds of 
 the men is occasioned by the pains taken by persons in official departments 
 to form Orange lodges, which has had the most pernicious effects. My 
 own opinions have never changed ; but I wish to ask you a question, not 
 from mere idle curiosity, but to determine my own conduct. As these 
 lodges are formed by persons in official departments, am I to consider 
 them as sanctioned and approved of by government? for, though my own 
 principles are the same as before, I should be extremely sorry, at this 
 critical period, to show any opposition to a measure that government 
 may consider as conducive to the general good; aud, should it be against 
 my principles, I shall retire from the scene.' 
 
 " This letter, dated September, proves that what Lord Cornwallis 
 positively asserted , as his most anxious wishes in July, is not attended to 
 by those in office out of his sight. The consequence of a government that 
 is undermining its governor }ou well know. This renewal of ill-blood 
 will have its effect in time, if not stopped; but, for the present, the 
 JNorth seems perfectly quiet; the South the same. In Leitrim, Longford, 
 \\ i.-imeath, etc. the risings were sudden, and as suddenly quelled, you 
 see. Vet in these very counties are numberless proofs of the attachment 
 of the tenants, who flocked to their landlords' houses, to guard them, 
 and behaved with all possible merit, industrious, grateful, and gene- 
 rous, for they went and reaped the corn, in great bodies, to save it for 
 their landlords. 
 
 " In our neighbourhood, which I may well entitle the doubtfuls , I 
 can read my neighbours' thoughts in their eyes , in the tone of their 
 voices, their gait, in short, on connait son monde, with a very little 
 observation, they are all ears, and distrust all they hear. They watch 
 to take the Ion from Dublin, their constant traffic with which makes 
 intelligence come like lightning to them, though not to us. They at 
 first disbelieved the surrender of the French ; they now believe it, and 
 put a good face on it, still hankering after a chance of a new force, which 
 is collecting in \Vicklorv, under a clever man called Holt, who rejects 
 mob, and chuses his associates. This keejis up the flame, and while it 
 burns, all those who persuade themselves that they acted on principle 
 only , and those who have gone too far to retreat , besides those whom 
 ill-usage has worked up into revenge, all reluctantly give up hopes of 
 
 there was au armed force of above 150,000 men, have not only put to rout a select 
 army of six. thousand men, preplred to resist the invaders, tmt have also provided 
 themselves with ordnance and ammuuition from our stores, taken several of oar 
 towns, marched 132 Irish (above 150 English) miles through the country, and kept 
 arms in their victorious hands for seventeen days, in the heart of an armed kingdom." 
 
 15
 
 216 APPENDIX. 
 
 success. Yet their own judgments now have fair play ; they see the lower 
 order quite tired of the business; they see a vast number who loudly 
 proclaim their determination to stick to the promise they made to old 
 General Dundas ' , who is their hero ; for not one of those he forgave has 
 returned lo the rebels. They see the tide is against them ; and, in short t 
 I can perceive by their countenances , that they are low , and sorry , and 
 fearful. But, if they once give the point up, they all will return to their 
 work with a heavy but not a sulky heart ; for they are nearly convinced 
 they are conquered by fate, not by force ; and you must know that all 
 the common people are predestinarians, which is a great cause of their 
 hardy courage for moments, and their seeming indifference about death. 
 They have very little shame about running away, being convinced they 
 are reserved for another fight by fate, and not by their running. * . * * 
 
 From all these circumstances one may , I think , decide , that all depends 
 on there being no more landings; for if any succeed, risings will follow 
 of course. Yet, after all, we have such millions of chances now in our 
 favour, that there is nothing to alarm one : since the United Irishmen, 
 by their own confessions , seem to have so very little head or plan , that 
 no reasonable being could for a moment depend on their government, 
 even if they could conquer all Ireland .- so that the whole plan, whether 
 of French, Irish , Presbyterian, or Catholic extraction, seems dissolved 
 into impossibilities, and can no longer be a bugbear now, Ithiiik, by 
 which government can frighten the world into approbation of despotism. 
 Lord Cornwallis has undoubtedly saved this country from a still more 
 bloody war, which was to have been expected; but the United Irishmen 
 themselves have proved they never could have kept Ireland. 
 
 " I ought to apologize for all my political and private accounts of the 
 state of the country, when you certainly must hear it from much better 
 judges and better authority ; but, when the whole conversation of so- 
 cieties is turned on political causes, which immediately concern every 
 individual, one can scarce take up a pen and steer clear of them. Indeed, 
 there is but one other subject that comes across us, and it is not pleasant 
 to dwell on it, though one part of it is so gratifyng to my very sincere 
 affection for you, my dearest brother, that 1 cannot refrain from express- 
 ing it. From Mary I hear a thousand particulars of your goodness to 
 poor Lady Edward , which I know the full value of. I can trace your 
 generous attention to all her feelings, your spirited resistance to the 
 torrent that ran against her ; your protecting hand that shielded her 
 hopeless situation from the most aggravating circumstances. You gently 
 said in a letter to my sister, 'she is not popular.' I own I was struck 
 with the expression , and wondered how you, who could hear nothing 
 of her, but through her family, should have heard so ( though it is true 
 in Dublin ) ; - but I now find from Mary that the very common people 
 had imbibed prejudice against her , poor little soul , to a degree that is 
 quite horrible, yet a well-known characteristic of the English nation. 
 What is to become other, my dear brother r I pity her from my soul , for 
 
 1 A compart entered into by General Dundas with the rebels, in the County of 
 Kildare, for which lie was much censured, but which, like every step of conciliatiou 
 or justice towards the Irish , was productive of the best effects.
 
 APPENDIX. 557 
 
 her elevated mind will suffer torture from the necessity of being under 
 obligations to many, and I fear no one individual can, at this time, 
 soften the bitter pangs of adverse fortune, by generously giving her, un- 
 der the tender tie of affection , an income equal to procuring her a com- 
 fortable situation. Pride has nothing to do with affection. Obligations 
 from those who know how to grant them nobly become a pleasure to the 
 receiver, as long as he perceives the giver is gratified by the gift ; but so 
 very , very few can and will be such givers, that I fear she will le sub- 
 ject to all those feelings which poverty is most unjustly expected not to 
 have, and which only belong to poverty, feelings, the nature of which 
 induces one to examine , consider, and value the nature of every gift. 
 
 " When I reflect, as I often do, on poor Lady Edward's fate, I cannot 
 help comparing it to my own, and in proportion as my ownunworthiness 
 of all the blessings I have had , and the kindness I have received, strikes 
 my recollection, my warmest wishes arise, that she, whose misfortunes 
 have arisen only from the strongest attachment to her dear husband, may 
 meet with the same protection from heaven , and on earth, from friends, 
 as I have done. The former I am sure she will , the latter is more doubt- 
 ful , yet I hope will not fail ; though circumstances alter the mind of 
 man so much, one can never be sure. Yet surely, in this instance, the 
 world would wonder if the widow and orphans of a man adored by his 
 family are not publicly supported by that very family who acknowledge 
 her attachment to him. A stranger, an orphan herself, lovely in her ap- 
 pearance, great in her character, persecuted , ruined , and banished, 
 her name so well known as to be brought into the history of the country, 
 (hat history will, of itself, be the test of the generosity of. her family 
 connexions, or their disgrace. I wish those who should first step forward 
 saw it in the light I do, which, exclusive of affection for her, is of im- 
 portance, I think, to the family. Adieu, my dear brother, ever most 
 affectionately yours, 
 
 "S. N." 
 
 Having passed the House of Lords, the Bill of Attainder was, at the 
 latter end of September, sent to England, to receive the Royal Assent; 
 and , though there could be but little hope , at that stage , of arresting its 
 progress, the friends of the family were resolved to make one more effort 
 and address a Petition to the King. To Sir Arthur Pigott the task of 
 drawing up their appeal was intrusted , and it is with much pleasure I 
 find myself enabled to lay this document before my readers ; as a com- 
 position more admirable for its purpose more precious as an example of 
 ihe adroitness and power with which rhetoric and logic may be made 
 subservient to each other, has rarely, perhaps, been written. 
 
 " TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 
 
 "The humble petition of Henry Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly 
 called Lord Henry Fitzgerald, Charles, Duke of Richmond, Wil- 
 liam Ogilvie, Esq., Charles James Fox, Esq., Henry Edward 
 Fox, Esq. and Henry Richard Lord Holland ; 
 For and on belialf of Edward Fitzgerald, an infant of the age of four years
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 or thereabouts, only son and heir of Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., lately de- 
 ceased, commonly called Lord Edward Fitzgerald ; and for and on behalf 
 of Pamela Fitzgerald, an infant of the age of two years, or thereabouts, and 
 of Lucy Fitzgerald, an infant of the age of four months, or thereabouts, 
 daughters of the said Lord Edward Fitzgerald; and for and on behalf also 
 of Pamela Fitzgerald, widow of the said Lord Edward Fitzgerald, ( 
 
 " SHEWETII , 
 
 "That the said Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly called Lord 
 Edward Fitzgerald, departed this life on or about the fourth day of June 
 Jast, being at the time of his death seised of some real estate, situated in 
 Ireland, and also possessed of some personal estate , which by his death 
 became vested in his said infant children, as his heir at law and sole next 
 of kin, according to their respective titles to the said real and personal 
 estates, subject to the right of his said widow to be endowed out of the 
 real, and to receive her share, of the personal estate. 
 
 " That the said Pamela Fitzgerald , the widow of the said Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald, is at present absent from this kingdom, on which account 
 alone, as your petitioners have reason to believe, she is not in her own 
 person a party to this petition. 
 
 " That your Majesty's petitioner, Henry Fitzgerald, is a guardian of 
 the persons and estates of the said infants, and that he and _-\our Ma- 
 jesty's other petitioners arc near relations of the said infant children. 
 
 " That your petitioners have observed with great concern, that a bill 
 has been passed by the parliament of Ireland, and transmitted for your 
 Majesty's royal assent; for, among other purposes, the attainder of the 
 said Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., commonly called Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 under the title of ' A bill for the attainder of Edward Fitzgerald, Cornelius 
 Grogan , and Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey , deceased , of high treason,' or 
 some such title; reciting, alleging, and assuming, as the cause and foun- 
 dation of the said bill , that the said Edward Fitzgerald did, during the 
 period nf his life, since the first day of November, 1797, commit and 
 perpetrate several acts of high treason, by conspiring together with 
 several false traitors to raise and stir up insurrection and rebellion within 
 this kingdom (Ireland), and by endeavouring to persuade the enemies 
 of our Lord the King to invade this his kingdom of Ireland ; and did, in 
 pursuance of the said treason, commit several overt acts with intent to 
 depose and dethronfe the king , and subvert and overthrow the govern- 
 ment of this his kingdom of Ireland : and further reciting that several 
 other false traitors who were concerned in the said treasons and rebellion 
 have already received their trials at law for the same, and have been con- 
 victed, and by judgment of law thereupon had, do now stand duly and 
 legally attainted : 
 
 " The said bill therefore enacts (among other things), that the said 
 Edward Fitzgerald, commonly called Lord Edward Fitzgerald, deceased, 
 shall be adjudged to be convicted and attainted of high treason to all 
 intents and purposes as if he had been attainted during his life : 
 
 ' And further enacts (among olher things), that all and every the 
 manors, mvssiiages. lands, tenements, etc., and all other the heiedit? ,
 
 APPEKD1X. 
 
 leases for years, chattels real and other things, of what nature so ever 
 they be; of the said Edward Fitzgerald, \\liich he or any other person to 
 his use or in trust for him had on the first day of jVovember , 1797 , shall 
 be forfeited to his .Majesty, and shall be deemed to be in the actual and 
 real seisin and possession of his Majestv, without anv inquisition or office 
 taken or found ; and that all and every other the goods and debts and 
 other the chattels personal whatsoever, of the said Edward Fit/herald , 
 whereof, upon the first of March, 1798, he or any person in trust for 
 him stood possessed, either in law or equity, shall be deemed forfeit, 
 and are vested in his Majestv, without am inquisition or office found. 
 And several provisions follow, for declaring void all subsequent aliena- 
 tions and transfers whatsoever of the propertv of the said Edward Fitz- 
 gerald, and also all previous alienations and transfers except for valuable 
 consideration, 
 
 " Your petitioners conceive it to lie their duty to the said infant child- 
 ren and absent widow of the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald, humbly to 
 represent to your Majestv that the said bill is contrary to the first and 
 most sacred principles of law, of justice, and of the constitution ; as it 
 intends , bv special and arbitrary provisions , neither known to the law of 
 Ireland ,. nor analogous to any of its just and wise maxims, to despoil the 
 innocent family of the said Lord Edward Fitzgerald of that properly 
 which upon his death vested in them , and which the law secures to them 
 by the same sanctions and protections under which all the rest of vour 
 Majestv 's subjects, both in England and Ireland, enjoy their lives, liber- 
 ties, and property. 
 
 " The best security, Sire, against the injustice, the passion, and vio- 
 lence, which frequently characterize the partial, occasional, and arbitrary 
 acts of power, wherever it is placed, is the observance of the steady 
 course of general and equal law ; which, as it ascertains the obligations , 
 secures alike the rights ofall, andimpartialh applies its rales and maxims, 
 tlirough the medium of its tribunals, to the actions of individuals. But, 
 whatever may be the censures which have been by grave and weighty 
 authorities pronounced upon bills of attainder in general, whatever the 
 irregularities and deviations from the rules of law , or principles of jus- 
 tice, which have sometimes attended their progress, into these we do not 
 presume to enter ; because we apprehend that bills of attainder of living 
 persons, or the motives which lead to them , or the maxims which govern 
 them , do not apply to the present bill. We are aware that the Salus 
 Populi , of which the legislature, we know, must judge, that the secu- 
 rit\ ni' the government, of which the legislature is, we know , the guard, 
 may sometimes^ though very rarely, be supposed to render necessary 
 an anomalous and extraordinary proceeding , which certainly dispenses 
 with some of the most valuable securities for the life, liberty and property 
 of the subject. But these are still proceedingsagainst living men; and atleast 
 the never varying and eternal principle of justice, not to condemn and pu- 
 nish unheard, is not violated- In a proceeding in parliament, as on the trial 
 of an indictment , the accused if living may make a full defence ; has the 
 important privilege of answering the charge; cross-examining the wit- 
 nesses against him ; contradicting their testimony ; showing their incom- 
 petence to be heard, or incredibility when heard ; and <>f availing him- -\\
 
 ?30 APPENDIX. 
 
 of all other means by which falsehood is demonstrated, or innocence 
 established. He has the use of his own talents , and the assistance of the 
 talents of others ; and it should not be forgotten that he has the opportu- 
 nity and advantage of exposing the errors and ignorance of his adver- 
 saries. And in whatever human tribunal charge is made , or accusation, 
 preferred, no experience will contradict the assertion that it is most fre- 
 quently in the power of the'accused alone to furnish the means of his own 
 defence; to detect fraud ; to make falsehood manifest ; to develop motives ; 
 to unravel events ; to point out time, place, persons, the whole train of cir- 
 cumstances which discriminate human actions, and, by imparting to them 
 their true colour and real character , either assert and protect innocence 
 or fix and ascertain the exact shade and precise gradation of guilt, where 
 guilt does exist. But these inestimable privileges are the privileges only 
 of the living : and accordingly the wisdom, and justice, and mercy, and 
 decorum of the law of England (and we believe the law of Ireland is not 
 different) confine its jurisdiction to the Jiving ; to those who can hold 
 communion with parliaments and courts, with judges and juries, with 
 counsel and attorneys and witnesses. But our law teaches us that, as the 
 persons of those on whom the tomb is closed are no longer objects of 
 human punishment, their actions are no longer of human cognizance, 
 or subjeets of temporal judgment, which death in all cases, and necessa- 
 rily, disappoints of its victim. 
 
 *' Of this we shall only lay before your Majesty the striking instances 
 which follow , and apply closely to the subject on which we address your 
 Majesty. 
 
 " We have the authority of Sir Matthew Hale for stating , that at all 
 times , in all cases of felony or treason , except the single case of death 
 received in open war against the king, and, as that exception will be 
 found to have been soon over-ruled , it may now , upon the same autho- 
 rity , be stated, that from the beginning of the reign of Edward III, in 
 all cases of felony or treason without any exception , if the party die be~- 
 fore he be attainted, though he were killed in the pursuit (which im- 
 plies his resistance) , or even in open war against the king ( a still stronger 
 case), and (still more) even though he had been tried and convicted, 
 yet, if he died after conviction , and before judgment , 'there ensued, * 
 to use Sir Matthew Hale's words , 'neither attainder,' that is, judgment, 
 ' nor forfeiture of lands.* 
 
 " And from the eighth year of King Edward III, the judges would not 
 allow an averment that a parly died in open war against the king, 
 either in rebellion, or adhering to the king's enemies , without a record 
 of his conviction. 
 
 " And now, by the statute of the twenty-fifth year of the reign of King 
 Edward III, de proditionibus , which requires an attainder by conviction, 
 and attainder per gents de leur condition , attainder after death for adher- 
 ing to the king's enemies is ousted . 
 
 "And nine years afterwards , because subtlety or chicanery might say, 
 that an inquest before the escheator might satisfy those words , the sta- 
 tute of the thirty-fourth year of the reign of the same King Edward 
 chap. 1 2th, has, in express terms , for the future, ousted such attainders 
 or cmiviclinns after death of the parties.
 
 APPENDIX. 531 
 
 "And this venerable judge, Sir Matthew Hala, a text writer of the 
 highest authority on the criminal law, emphatically lays down, what is 
 indeed engraven on every breast endued with a sense, or animated with 
 a love of justice, that, 
 
 - .\o man ought to be attainted of treason, witliout being called to 
 make his defence and put to answer, which is called, arrena.Ho, or ad 
 rationem positusS 
 
 "And, among several remarkable precedents of justice in support of 
 that just and protecting maxim, Sir M. Hale states the case of Roger 
 Mortimer, Earl of March, condemned for treason, for the death of King 
 Kdward the Second. His heir, Roger Mortimer, in the reign of King 
 Kdward the Third , brought a petition of error upon that judgment, and 
 the record of his attainder was removed into parliament, and there en- 
 tered of record , and errors were assigned that he had not been arraigned 
 and called upon to answer ; and , by the judgment of king , lords , and 
 commons . the judgment appealed from was reversed and annulled , and 
 the petitioner was restored to the title of Earl of March, and the lands, etc. 
 of his grandfather. 
 
 "It cannot be pretended, and therefore it is not alleged, that the late 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald was killed in open war against your Majesty , 
 fighting either in open rebellion or for the enemies of your Majesty ; the 
 only case in which, even in the least civilized and most irregular times , 
 when the constitution can scarcely be deemed to have been settled , a 
 forfeiture by a proceeding after death could be incurred : and to effect a 
 forfeiture, even in those unruly and turbulent times, and in a case so 
 extraordinary, when death was received in the very act of flagrant and 
 raging rebellion, a presentment in Eyre, a presentment in the King's 
 Bench, or an inquisition by the Escheator, was indispensable. 
 
 " But this practice has been shown to have been of old time discoun- 
 tenanced and reprobated by the judges of the laud , and condemned and 
 prohibited by the authority of parliament. 
 
 " And even the practice of accusing and attainting in cases of treason 
 or felony, without indictment or presentment, where the party was taken 
 living, with the ntainour cum manu opere , is, says Sir M. Hale, disused 
 and ousted by the statutes of the fifth year of the reign of King Edward 
 the Third, chap. 9, and the 25th year of the reign of the same king, 
 chap. 4 * according to which statutes, 'none shall be put to answer 
 without indictment or presentment of good and lawful men of the neigh- 
 bourhood.' 
 
 " Attainder, on which , as we have frequently had occasion to show , 
 so much depends, we understand to be the immediate and inseparable 
 consequence of sentence of death. When that sentence is pronounced , 
 the criminal is called attaint, ailinclus , stained or blackened. 'This , ' 
 >a\s Mr. Justice Black stone in his excellent Commentaries, 'is after 
 judgment ; for there is great difference between a man convicted and 
 attainted, though they are frequently, but inaccurately, confounded 
 together. After conviction onlv a man is liable to none of these disabilities' 
 ( the inseparable consequences of sentence of death ) : ' for there is still' 
 (after conviction) ' in contemplation of law , a possibility of his innocence. 
 Something may be offered at any time before judgment' actually pro-
 
 J32 APPENDIX. 
 
 nounced, and at the very instant that it is about to be pronounced, for 
 which express purpose the criminal is , at that time , asked , whether he 
 has any thing to allege why judgment should not pass against him. ' The 
 indictment may be erroneous , which will render his guilt uncertain, and 
 thereupon the present conviction may be quashed : he may obtain a par- 
 don' ( which we understand may be pleaded after conviction , and at any 
 time before judgment is actually pronounced), 'or be allowed the be- 
 nefit of clergy. But when judgment is once pronounced, both law and 
 fact conspire to prove him completely guilty , and there is not the remo- 
 test possibility left of any thing to be said in his favour. Upon judgment, 
 therefore , of death , and not before' (that is , when the remotest possibi- 
 lity that any thing can be said in his favour is exhausted , merciful law f 
 and not more'merciful than wise!) then 'the attainder of a criminal 
 commences : or, upon such circumstances as are equivalent to a judg- 
 ment of death, as judgment of outlawry on a capital crime, pronounced 
 for absconding or fleeing from justice, which tacitly confesses the guilt. 
 And, therefore, either upon judgment of outlawry or of death, for 
 treason or felony , a man shall be said to be attainted. The consequences 
 of attainder are forfeiture and corruption of blood.' 
 
 "Enough, we humbly hope, Sire, has been urged to satisfy your 
 royal mind that forfeiture of lands and corruption of blood are the legal 
 fruits and consequences , the strict technical effects of the attainder of an 
 existing traitor or felon, who has, at the time of the attainder, blood to 
 be corrupted and land to be forfeited fall alienations of his land between 
 the period of his crime and that of his attainder being by the judgment 
 of the law avoided). Forfeiture and corruption of blood are indeed the 
 fruits of crime, but fruits which the nice and scrupulous justice of the 
 law disdains to gather until it has given to the criminal every possible 
 opportunity of defending himself, and is enabled to say, even the most 
 remote possibility of his innocence is now excluded. May such, Sire, 
 ever be the just description and character of the law of forfeiture and 
 corruption of the blood of an innocent posterity, whilst it is deemed 
 expedient to permit that law to endure, and may none other ever be exe- 
 cuted by the sovereign of a free people! Where there is no attainder in 
 the life-time of the subject, the legal root from which alone these fruits 
 spring fails ; and we might as well look for an effect of which the sole 
 cause has no existence. If the subject die urucltainled, who shall take upon 
 him to say that he does not die innocent ? Who is authorized to assert 
 that had he lived he ever would have been attainted ? Who shall presume 
 to allege that the most remote possibility of his innocence was excluded '? 
 Who will undertake to answer for the issue of his trial , had he lived to 
 such an event? and, supposing him convicted, who will prescribe limits 
 to your Majesty's clemency , or dare to affirm that no motive to mercy , 
 no service he could have rendered , no discovery he could have made , 
 no repentance of his errors, no situation into which his misfortunes , his 
 sufferings, or his offences might have plunged him, could possibly have 
 actuated your royal breast to the exercise of that godlike attribute at any 
 moment previous to the time of his being stained by final sentence and 
 the dreadful judgment of the iaw? 
 
 " II then, Sire, the subject die unattaiuted , his blood flows unattainted
 
 APPENDIX. 233 
 
 to his unoffending offspring , and his property descends , at the instant of 
 his death, to his legal representatives, whose dominion over it from that 
 moment becomes absolute ; whose title is guarded and secured by all the 
 laws of property, by all the rules, and maxims, and statutes, which 
 prescribe and regulate its descent and distribution on the death of the 
 person last seised and possessed. Their title is without defect or imper- 
 fection. Their alienations, whether by sale, or mortgage, or settlement, 
 would convey a pure and unadulterated right. In this state of things, to 
 overturn the general law of the land, the security of every man's inhe- 
 ritance, and by an arbitrary act of power, and a fictitious post mortem 
 attainder (a solecism in language and a contradiction in terms), divested 
 of every characteristic of a real one, to sentence innocence and infancy, 
 on which alone this shocking proceeding can operate, to degradation and 
 dishonour ; to create in those who not only have not committed but who 
 are incapable of the commission of crime, the incapacity of inheriting 
 after they have inherited ; to break and intercept the descent of that which 
 has already descended; and to inflict on the unoffending the loss of pro- 
 perty which has , in the due course and operation of law upon that pro- 
 perty, come to them , can, gracious Sire, such an instrument of injury 
 and worker of wrong expect to obtain the sanction and authority of a 
 legislative proceeding, which would foul the fountain and pollute the 
 sanctuary of law, and make those records, which ought to be the monu- 
 ments of truth and justice, a whimsical compound of absurdity, impos- 
 ture, passion, and tyranny? 
 
 " Of examples in good or regular times for this monstrous proceeding, 
 we are, with one exception only, fortunately ignorant ; although, since 
 the happy accession of your Majesty's family, its title to the crown of 
 these realms was long and openly disputed, and twice by open rebellion, 
 and oftener by meditated insurrection and conspiracies to levy A\ar, 
 attempted to be subverted ; so that occasions for such examples , and the 
 weak excuse of provocations to such acts of outrage and violence, could 
 not have been wanting. The same observation applies to the reign of 
 King William the third. A recollection of the commencement and events 
 of his reign, and of the conspiracies which were formed for the destruc- 
 tion of his person and government , justifies the conclusion. 
 
 " To very remote times, to the melancholy and disgraceful periods of 
 our history, when hostile factions alternately gave away and resumed the 
 royal sceptre , and the crown was supported, not by the law , but by the 
 sword , we shall not resort ; nor shall we ransack the flagitious registers 
 of those rapacious counsels which hunted after forfeitures, and sought a 
 source of revenue in the destruction of opujpnt subjects. These the judg- 
 ment of a more just and more enlightened posterity has doomed to their 
 merited fate. But the precedent which, as an exception, we mentioned 
 before, is furnished by the case of the attainder of the regicides, after 
 the restoration of King Charles the Second, among whom four were 
 dead, Cromwell, Bradshaw, Pryde , and Ireton, a precedent which, 
 as far as it relates to the dead, has never since been followed, and which, 
 in all human probability , there never will, in these kingdoms , be again 
 occasion to folloxv. And on that act of attainder, whether the measures 
 then pursued against the dead may now be looked back upon with pride
 
 334 APPENDIX. 
 
 or shame , it may be observed , that the acts of treason were not of more 
 enormity than notoriety. The destruction of the person of the king, the 
 subversion of the regal authority , the usurpation of the government, did 
 not admit of any sort of question. That was no case of conspiring to levy- 
 war , or of endeavouring to persuade the king's enemies to invade the 
 realm. There the treasonable purposes were perfectly accomplished , and 
 the guilt of the conspirators was consummated by the complete attain- 
 ment of their treasonable objects. To the conviction of mankind, from 
 the nature of the case, the most remote possibility that any thing could 
 be said in contradiction to the facts alleged against (he regicides did not 
 remain ; and the dead could not possibly have been tried, could not pos- 
 sibly have been pardoned , before their decease , because they had over- 
 turned the authority under which they were to be tried , and destroyed 
 the source from which grace and mercy flowed. Their wealth, too, in 
 so singular a state of guilt, was presumed to have been the fruit of their 
 successful treasons, and it was alleged at the time, that the fact justified 
 the presumption. We do not make these remarks for the purpose of exer- 
 cising a judgment which we are not. called upon to pronounce on any 
 part of that proceeding , but solely to point out the little resemblance 
 -which the case that produced it has to that brought by this bill under 
 your Majesty's consideration. 
 
 "After what has been already alleged , it can scarcely be necessary to 
 add, but the truth is, that Lord Edward Fitzgerald never, during any 
 period of his life, had judgment of high treason pronounced against 
 him; never was convicted of high treason; never was tried for or ar- 
 raigned of high treason ; nor had any indictment or presentment for high 
 treason ever been found or preferred against him by good and lawful men 
 of his neighbourhood. 
 
 " Your petitioners, Sire, have always apprehended that the guilt of 
 man cannot be presumed or acted upon, unless it has been established 
 in a due and regular course of law ; but in this case the guilt of the dead 
 ancestor is assumed, for the unjust and odious purpose of divesting his 
 jnnocent posterity of their just and lawful rights, and despoiling them of 
 their absolute and indisputable property. What are the limits to the 
 exercise of such a power? For what injustice, what violence , what op- 
 pression, what rapacity may not such a bill be a precedent? What rights 
 of property does it leave secure? Does not the same general and equal 
 law which assures the inheritance and possessions of all the rest of your 
 Majesty's subjects, secure the inheritance and possessions of these unfor- 
 tunate and oppressed children? Is their title less valid than the title of 
 any other man ; or worse seeured than if they had acquired it by pur- 
 chase, settlement, or deed of gift? Upon the principle of this bill, may 
 not any man , or number of men , equally void of offence as these helpless 
 infants, be stripped of their property, and reduced to indigence and 
 misery by an arbitrary , ex parte , extra-judicial, posthumous, legislative 
 enactment of the treason of some departed ancestor ? What new and 
 unheard-of power is this, which punishes living persons of acknowledged 
 innocence, by trying and condemning the dead ? And what ideas of jus- 
 tice must those entertain who thus attempt to violate the sacred rights 
 of propertv? and perpetrate an act of wrong and violence by exhibiting
 
 APPENDIX 535 
 
 a mock trial of the dead, where, if there may be accusation, there can 
 be no defence , and if there may be crime , there can be no criminal. 
 
 "If for any reason beyond our capacity to perceive, it were thought 
 necessary by a special legislative act, made on the spur of the occasion 
 and in the rage of the moment , tojind the fact and make the law for 
 dooming the untried dead to a judgment of high treason; we cannot but 
 hope, that your Majesty's love of justice will countenance us in thinking, 
 that even then the bill might have stopped there , without superadding 
 the confiscation and forfeiture of that property, which now by law be- 
 longs to his innocent children. Treason they cannot have committed, and 
 they are not traitors by birth or inheritance; yet this bill makes them 
 so, and, at the same time that it cruelly renders them, innocent and 
 helpless as they are, incapable of inheriting any thing else, it presents 
 them with treason for their inheritance, leaves them destitute of the 
 means of education and sustenance, and turns them into the world naked 
 and desolate, in calamity, misery, and despair, as if it were necessary 
 by this bill to embitter their misfortunes and aggravate their sufferings; 
 and to teach them their duties to society, by robbing them of their rights 
 in it. 
 
 " These superadded provisions inthe case of perfect innocence cannot 
 but appear the more extraordinary proofs of precipitation and passion , 
 that j'our Majesty's royal clemency has been recently extended ( highly 
 to the satisfaction of your petitioners, and, we believe, to that of the 
 rest of your Majesty's subjects), to several persons, one or more con- 
 victed of, and the rest charged with, high treason; all of whom have, 
 consequently, preserved their property, whilst the innocent children of 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, those who cannot have been guilty of any of- 
 fence , are, by the provisions of this bill , made to forfeit theirs. Thus , it 
 appears, that whilst the government of Ireland is remitting the punish- 
 ments which in the course of law fall upon the guilty, it is extending 
 and aggravating beyond the law those consequences of guilt , which fall 
 only upon the innocent. What would be the sense and feeling of mankind,, 
 if, in the case of a tried, convicted traitor, his property were preserved 
 for him during his life, but that effect of his attainder were enforced 
 which forfeits his property after his death , when it would devolve upon 
 his innocent children ? that is , that the guilty father should be pardoned, 
 but the innocent children punished? And what less can be said of this 
 bill, when the case of the innocent children of Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
 is contrasted with that of those who, at the very time of its passing, have 
 been objects of royal mercy in Ireland? 
 
 "The provisions of this bill are, also, rendered more striking, by 
 considering that several modern statutes which constitute the offence of 
 treason, provide that it shall work no forfeiture of lands, save only for 
 the life of the offender; and all such modern statutes preserve to the wife 
 of the offender her dower. And in the case of high treason itself, the 
 hereditary punishment of a traitor actuallv attainted has, during nearly 
 the whole of this century , stood in the statute book tacitly condemned ; 
 as a period has been ft*xed for its cessation , which in the course of na- 
 ture must in all probability soon arrive. 
 
 " We trust, may it please your Majesty, that we have urged reasons o(
 
 536 AJPPEND1X. 
 
 sufficient weight against the general principles of this bill of injustice 
 and violence, to induce your Majesty , in your known love of justice and 
 uniform regard for the rights of property, to protect these defenceless 
 orphans in the enjoyment of theirs, and to withhold your royal assent 
 from this bill. But , according to the best account which we have been, 
 able to obtain of it , it w ill in the detail of its provisions be found con- 
 sistent with the violent and oppressive character of its general principles. 
 " In such a bill, instead of loose, and genera! , and accumulative terms; 
 instead of recitals of the crimes and convictions and attainders of others ; 
 there might have been expected some legal precision and certainty in the 
 description of the treason charged upon the deceased, and at least some 
 clear and distinct specification of the overt acts by which it was mani- 
 fested and to be proved. 
 
 " The bill alleges , that since the first of November, 1797 , the deceased 
 did commit several acts of high treason , by conspiring to raise and stir 
 up insurrection and rebellion, and by endeavouring to persuade the 
 enemies of our lord the king to invade his kingdom of Ireland; and did, 
 in pursuance of the said treason, commit several overt acts, wilh intent 
 to depose and dethrone the king, and subvert and overturn the govern- 
 ment of his kingdom of Ireland. 
 
 "Such legal advice as we have been able to procure has instructed us that 
 this contains no legal description of the crime of high treason. To com- 
 pass or imagine the death of our lord the king is high treason : to levy 
 war against our 'lord the king is high treason : to adhere to the enemies 
 of our lord the king is high treason. But conspiring to raise, arid stir up 
 insurrection and rebellion , we are informed, is not a description of high 
 treason ; though it may, when properly laid, be charged as an overt act 
 of compassing or imagining the king's death. And endeavouring to per- 
 suade the enemies of our lord the king to invade the kingdom, we are 
 also informed, is not a description of high treason; though persuading 
 the enemies of our lord the king to invade the kingdom may, when pro- 
 perly laid , be charged as an overt act of adhering to the king's enemies. 
 " But what are the overt acts of what the bill describes as high trea- 
 son? The deceased ' did, in pursuance of the said treason, commit se- 
 veral overt acts with intent to depose, etc.' But what these several overt 
 acts were , or what any one of them was , or where or when committed, 
 this bill of attainder of treason no where informs us ; so that the infant 
 children of the deceased were expected to defend their parent against 
 high treason not described by the charge , and of which no overt act w as 
 disclosed by the charge ; although your petitioners are informed, that to 
 sustain a charge of high treason, the treason itself must be first correctly 
 charged; and next, some act, with the place, time, and other neces- 
 sary ingredients thereof, by which such treason is demonstrated or 
 made overt. 
 
 " If it be true, as we have been informed , that no access was per- 
 mitted to Lord Edward Fitzgerald after he was taken into custody , no 
 measures could have been concerted in his life-time for his defence : still, 
 after his death , his infant children were , it seems , expected to undertake- 
 that defence, and had their all at stake on it. And vet they were not
 
 APPENDIX. 837 
 
 informed by the charge against hint what were the overt acts of treason 
 against which they were to defend him. 
 
 " Neither does the bill state that any of the facts, alleged as they are 
 against the deceased, have been proved at all; still less which of them , 
 or how, or by what witnesses or evidence, so as to give your Majesty 
 any information to satisfy your Majesty's conscience or judgment ; al- 
 though your Majesty is called upon to be a party to this bill, to sit in 
 judgment upon the dead, and to confiscate the property of the living 
 innocent ! 
 
 "And \\hatever confidence in the case of public, acts , or in ordinary 
 cases of private acts, your Majesty may constitutionally be expected to 
 place in the proceedings of parliament; yet, when parliament assume 
 these extraordinary functions of judicial magistracy; instituteprosecutious 
 of a sort quite unknown to the law, and conduct them on principles 
 utterly repugnant to it ; dispose of private rights legally vested in innocent 
 and unoffending persons, whose tender age and incapacity make them 
 peculiar objects of the protection of the law ; enact a crime, ex post facto , 
 after the death of the alleged criminal, and a confiscation of an inheritance 
 after it is vested , we trust that it will not be thought either unreasonable 
 in itself, or any departure from your Majesty's general confidence in par- 
 liament, I hat a bill of so singular a species, and so terrible an aspect, 
 should not, merely because it has passed the other two branches of the 
 legislature, and without any examination of its principles, allegations, 
 or provisions, receive your Majesty's assent , and obtain the force of law. 
 
 " Moreover, Sire, this bill declares forfeited all the real estate which 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald had on the first of November, 1797; and makes 
 void all transfers of it subsequent to that lime, and yet makes no provi- 
 sion out of it for the payment of any of his debts ; though from that time 
 to the time of his expiration, several months afterwards, he had the un- 
 controlled dominion over his property, and may have mortgaged or 
 charged it for money lent, or other valuable consideration ; or, without 
 specifically incumbering it , may have contracted specialty debts upon 
 the faith and credit of his possession of it with a known and just title to 
 it. Was it criminal in his creditors to transact with him the ordinary 
 business of life ? or what care or caution have they omitted? What pru- 
 dence or foresight could reveal to them that after the death of their un- 
 convicted debtor, a special act of parliament should, by a post mortem 
 attainder of treason, confiscate his property from a date purely arbitrary 
 and capricious; which property was, at that date and at the time of his 
 death , more than sufficient to enable thftjawful owner of it honourably 
 and conscientiously to fulfil all the pecuniary obligations for which it was 
 responsible, or which he had contracted. 
 
 "The bill also declares all his personal estate forfeited; and carries 
 that forfeiture back to the first of March , 1798; although by his death 
 uncouvicted of any crime, independent of the legal claims of his widow 
 and next of kin, all his creditors, at the time of his death, have a legal 
 claim on his personal estate for the payment of their debts. Yet this bill 
 has no respect to such their claim; nor, which is still more extraordi- 
 nary, does it even make provision for the payment of his funeral expenses 
 out of his personal estate, so that those who contracted for his funeral
 
 S38 APPENDIX. 
 
 expenses, or furnished the means of his Christian burial , are to be added 
 to the number of persons punished by this bill for the performance of an 
 act of decorum and piety, the decent interment of his remains. It is not 
 improper to be suggested, that between the first of March, 1798, and 
 the time of his death, his personal estate, or some of it, may have been 
 sold and transferred , and the produce appropriated to the fulfilment of 
 his obligations, or expended in the necessary support of himself, his 
 wife, and children. If, for instance, he had any property in the public 
 funds, it may have been sold at the Stock Exchange, and transferred at 
 the Bank, either by himself or by the authority of a letter of attorney , 
 under the existing laws of this country. Yet the bill attempts, at least, to 
 reach all the personal estate of which, on the first of March, 1798, he 
 \vaspossessed, though he died unconvicted, and though, by the law of 
 the land , the forfeiture of personal estate , on conviction for treason , 
 does not relate back to any time previous to conviction. ' The forfeiture 
 of goods and chattels,' says Sir 'William Blackstone, 'has no relation 
 backwards; so that those only which a man has at the time of conviction 
 shall be forfeited. Therefore, a traitor, or felon, may bona fide sellany 
 ofhis chattels, real or personal, for the sustenance of himself and famih, 
 between the fact and conviction; for personal property is of so fluctuating 
 a nature, that it passes through many hands in a short time, and no 
 buyer could be safe if he were liable to return the goods which he had 
 fairly bought, provided any of the prior venders had committed treason 
 or felony.' So that this bill not only enacts a conviction of the dead , but 
 gives to that conviction an effect which it would not have had by law, had 
 it actually taken place in his life-time : the bill fixes an arbitrary date, for 
 which no reason is assigned, and which has no reference even to its own 
 fictions, for the forfeiture of the personal estate; refuses to pay for the 
 burial of the dead; takes from vendees and creditors their legal pro- 
 perty ; makes the deceased , against his will , a fraudulent debtor in his 
 grave, a posthumous insolvent, though he died the lawful owner of a 
 sufficiency of assets , real and personal ; defrauds his creditors of the fund 
 out of which they are entitled to be paid, and his widow and next of kin 
 of the surplus to which they are by law entitled. 
 
 " All which matters are humbly submitted to your Majesty. 
 " And may it please your Majesty to prove, as is natural to the known 
 benevolence of your royal mind, the protector of the fatherless children 
 and widow thus desolate and oppressed! that this unexampled, violent, 
 vindictive and cruel bill, may not be further proceeded in ; or, that your 
 Majesty would be pleased to withhold your royal assent from the same. 
 *' And your petitioners, as in duty bound, vrill ever pray, etc. 
 (Signed) " RICHMOSD. 
 
 " W. OGILVIK. 
 
 " HBSRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "CHARLES JAMES Fox. 
 
 " HKNRY EDWARD Fox. 
 
 " HOLLAND. " 

 
 APPENDIX. 239 
 
 FROM THE DUCHESS DOWAGER OF LEflfSTBB TO LORD HENRY FITZGERALD. 
 
 "October, 1798. 
 " MY DEAREST HE.NRV , 
 
 " I send you a copy of the sketch Lord Holland sent me, by Charles 
 Fox's desire, of a petition to the king , desiring him to order the former 
 petition, which arrived too late, to be laid before him , and this , it is 
 proposed , should go along with my letter, of which here is also a copy. 
 We are now in doubt who should present it : my brother offers , if I 
 wish it, to ask an audience of the king, in his closet, and to add his 
 representations of the business, which may not have reached the king's 
 ear. I have written to Lord Holland to consult Charles about it , and also 
 to know from him, if he thinks the Duke of York would do it; and, if 
 he would, whether that is not the best. I mean to write both to the prince 
 and duke for their approbation of it; at any rate , to the first, as a com- 
 pliment due to his good-nature ; to the latter, in hopes that, whether 
 lie presents it or not , he may back it , as he has great weight and has 
 always shown much feeling. Did you happen to know that he had actually 
 obtained the delay of the trial I so much dreaded, although he had made 
 me no promise, and only made use of terms of compassion when he list- 
 ened to me, without engaging to do any thing? God bless you, dear angel, 
 and all at Boyle Farm. 
 
 " Ever your affectionate mother, 
 
 "E. L." 
 
 " TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 
 
 " May it please your Majesty, 
 
 " The humble petition of Emily, Duchess Dowager of Leinster, 
 wife of \Villiam Ogilvie, Esq., and mother of the Right Ho- 
 nourable Edward Fitzgerald , commonly called vard 
 Fitzgerald , 
 
 " SHEWETH, 
 
 '* That an humble petition of the Right Honourable Henry Fitzgerald, 
 " To your Majesty, against a bill passed by the Parliament of Ireland, 
 and transmitted for your Majesty's royal assent, for among other pur- 
 poses, the attainder of the said Edward Fitzgerald, Esq., was, on Friday 
 the a8th of September last, delivered into the office of his Grace the 
 Duke of Portland , one of your Majesty's principal Secretaries of State , in 
 order to its being laid before your Majesty , previous to the passing of the 
 said bill. That your petitioner has been informed, that on Wednesday , 
 the 5d day of this month , it was intimated to one of the said petitioners 
 by letter from the Duke of Portland , that the said petition had not 
 reached Weymouth till Saturday morning, the 2gth of September last ; 
 and that the commission empowering the Lord Lieutenant to give the 
 royal assent to that and other bills had passed the great seal, and had 
 been despatched the preceding evening. That your petitioner, imagining
 
 540 APPENDIX. 
 
 from the circumstance that the said petition may not have been submitted 
 to your Majesty's consideration, beseeches your Majesty, in the humble 
 hope that the reasons which were offered to your Majesty why the said 
 bill should not pass into a law , may be deemed by your Majesty of suffi- 
 cient weight to induce your Majesty , as an act of personal grace and 
 favour from your Majesty to the innocent and infant children of the late 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, by your Majesty's royal grant to restore to them 
 that property of which they were possessed till the said bill was passed, 
 and of which the said bill has divested them. And which your Majesty's 
 petitioner, as in duty bound, will ever pray, etc., etc., etc." 
 
 The following are the affecting appeals addressed by her Grace to the 
 three Royal Personages mentioned in her letter : 
 
 TO HIS MAJESTY GEORGE TUE THIRD, FROM THE DUCHESS DOWAGER 
 OF LE1NSTER '. 
 
 "SIR, 
 
 " Your Majesty who has so often honoured me with condescending 
 goodness in the days of my prosperity, will, I am sure, allow me to apply 
 to you in those of my adversity. Family affection has ever been a marked 
 feature in your Majesty's character, and your subjects have contemplated 
 it with pleasure, as flowing from that benevolence of heart to which, in 
 their distresses, they might safely appeal without the fear of being 
 deemed presumptuous. In this persuasion, sir, I flatter myself you will 
 look with pity on an afflicted parent , in the decline of life , bereft of a 
 favourite child , and sympathize in her sorrows. To the will of Heaven 
 my broken heart submits with resignation, and, transferring to the 
 children of my beloved son that anxious tenderness which filled my 
 bosom, so many years, for his happiness and welfare, I fondly hoped, in 
 this occupation, to find some relief for the anguish of my heart. But, 
 sir, what must my wretchedness be, when I find myself robbed of this 
 i dinfort by a fatal and unexpected blow, depriving these innocent babes 
 of the little patrimony, which , I am informed , was actually theirs on the 
 death of their father, unconvicted of any crime , and which a most 
 extraordinary exertion of the power of parliament has now taken from 
 them. 
 
 " I did not join, sir , in a petition which their guardians and some of 
 their family presented to your Majesty, beseeching you not to give your 
 assent to this bill, because that petition went into legal discussions, 
 which it did not become me to enter into ; nor do I now presume to say 
 any thing upon the reasons of policy which only could have induced 
 your Majesty to suffer it to pass into a law. No , sir, my hope and confi- 
 dence is placed in the excellence of your heart. I apply to that benevo- 
 lence of which your Majesty has the uncontrolled exercise, and of which 
 innocent children are sure to find a friend in your Majesty's breast. Your 
 Majesty's parliament of Ireland, certainly misled in some circumstances 
 
 1 Tliis Letter was presented to his Majesty, iu the Closet, by the Duke of Rich- 
 mond , on the 24th of October, 1798,
 
 APPENDIX. 241 
 
 \vhich would have come out very differently on a fair trial , has thought 
 proper to exert the utmost stretch of its power ; and , however hardly 
 used I must ever think my son and his children have been, his memory 
 blasted unheard, untried, and unconvicted, and, in their being selected 
 to forfeit their inheritance for an offence never proved by any law, or in 
 any court of justice, I must submit to what is decided. But may I not 
 hope, sir, when, whether ill or well founded, public vengeance has 
 been satisfied by the forfeiture declared by this act, my ever dear son's 
 life lost, and complicated misery fallen on his unhappy family, that your 
 Majesty's natural feelings of compassion for the distressed may be allowed 
 to operate, and your goodness to flow in favour of these helpless inno- 
 cents ? 
 
 " Your Majesty's reign has been marked with many restitutions of 
 property, forfeited in the ordinary course of law by offenders regularly 
 convicted of having actually taken up arms to deprive your Majesty and 
 your family of the crown; and the blessings of thousands, with the 
 approbation of all mankind , have followed these bountiful acts. Even at 
 this moment I am informed the property, with the life, of some, con- 
 victed of what my son can only be suspected of, since he was never 
 tried, has been preserved by your Majesty's clemency. How, then, can 
 I doubt but that it will be extended to these innocent children, whose 
 property is now in your Majesty's sole disposal ? Oh , sir, 1 never can 
 forget the humanity and kindness of your two sons , their Royal High- 
 nesses the Prince of V^ ales and the Duke of York : with what goodness 
 they attended to my prayer, that they would intercede with your Majesty 
 for that delay in the trial ofmy son which would give time for heat and 
 prejudice to subside, and ensure real justice. Tears dropped from their 
 eyes while they listened to my complaint ; they seemed to take pleasure 
 in repeating to me the assurance of your Majesty's commiseration in my 
 misfortunes , and in soothing my grief with recalling many little cir- 
 cumstances of your Majesty's former goodness to me. The same benevo- 
 ence still exists , and 1 trust will restore to my grandchildren their lost 
 property, a gift for which your Majesty will ever have my most fervent 
 prayers for your happiness; which will relieve my poor little ones from 
 want and beggary, and enable my son's executors honourably to pay his. 
 debts ; but which can in no respect be more gratifying tome, than in the 
 proof it will afford that your Majesty has not entirely withdrawn your 
 protection from a family long and devotedly attached to your person and 
 government. 
 
 "But if, contrary to these, I trust, neither unnatural or unreasonable 
 hopes, reasons I cannot presume to judge of should still restrain the first 
 emotion which I am sure your Majesty's heart will feel for unoffending 
 children , let me beseech your Majesty not to sufler their property to be 
 sold or given away to others ; from whence, however connected with 
 that of the family, it could never be recovered. Preserve it , sir, un- 
 alienated in your own hands, and if their innocence be not a sufficient 
 claim for restitution at this moment, at least , sir, reserve to yourself the 
 godlike power of restoring them to their birthright, if by their duty 
 and loyalty to your Majesty, their respect for the constitution , and 
 obedience to the laws, they should hereafter show themselves deserving 
 
 1C
 
 -J12 APPENDIX. 
 
 of such a mark of your Majesty's favour; and your Majesty mas lx- 
 assured, as long as I live, I shall think it my dulv to sec them educated 
 in these principles."' 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERICK, DUKE OF YORK, FROM TIIK DUCIIFSS 
 DOWAGER OF I.E I \lSTER. 
 
 " Itclienor, Oct. aotli , 17(18. 
 
 "SIR, 
 
 " The sensibility and sympathy with niv aflliction that your roval 
 highness showed, when I presumed to request your good offices to obtain 
 such a delay in my son's trial as should have given time to passion 
 and prejudice to subside, 4iave made the deepest impression on my heart, 
 and induces me once more to apply to your royal highness as the friend of 
 wretchedness and distress. 
 
 " I have ever venerated that humanity and benevolence that shine so 
 conspicuous in your royal father's character ; and to these qualities alone 
 I wish to address an application in lavour of the innocent children of im 
 beloved and unfortunate son. I have the honour of enclosing a copy 
 of a letter to his Majesty for your royal highness's perusal; and if your 
 royal highness approve of the contents , 1 should humbly request your 
 royal highness to have the condescending goodness to deliver it to the 
 king. 
 
 " The situation of these helpless children will speak forcibly to your 
 royal highness's feelings. They are children ef a soldier and a brave one, 
 who has bled for his king and his country. 
 
 " If I durst presume to ofter any vindication of my dear unfortunate 
 son's conduct, it should be an appeal to your royal highness it any officer 
 was more prodigal of his blood , more devoted to his Majesty, and more 
 zealous in his duty, than my brave son, while he had the honour of 
 serving his Majesty, and until his Majesty was unfortunately advised to 
 remove him from that service. Need I add, sir, that a sentence of death 
 would have been an act of mercy to a man of his spirit? But for that fatal 
 measure, my valuable son might either be, now, a living ornament to 
 his profession , and I a happy mother, or I should have had the conso- 
 lation of his having fallen gloriously fighting for his king and his count r\ 
 Alas, how much reason have I to complain! But he never imputed auv 
 blame to his Majesty; and freely forgave his advisers , though he strongU 
 felt that the treatment was unmerited , and it consequently made it deep 
 and indelible impression on his mind, even insensibly to himself , as he 
 never would allow it had any aflect on his conduct. 
 
 " Bnt, sir, when a man who for years had enjoyed a pension from his 
 Majesty's bounty, and who was executed in actual rebellion, has not 
 been included in the bill of attainder, may I not hope that your royal 
 highness will find a favourable moment to represent to his Majesty the 
 difference of my son's case ? whose services were not only unrewarded 
 but rejected, and he deprived of the honour of serving in a profession to 
 \\hirh he w-as devoted by inclination and duty. 
 
 " I hope it will not appear to sour royal highness as if I complained
 
 APPENDIX. 243 
 
 that die name of the unfortunate man to whom I allude had not been 
 inserted in the bill of attainder. God forbid : I state it only as a striking 
 proof of partiality in the framers and advisers of this bill, \vhich would 
 alone justify an act of grace from his Majeslv. 
 
 " Another circumstance 1 would presume to state as an alleviation and 
 by no means as an excuse for my son, that whatever his objects and 
 views might have been as to the independence of Ireland , it appeals 
 clearly, from the reports of the Irish parliament, that he was the person 
 who prevented the French from sending a large army into Ireland , and 
 resisted the idea of subjecting it to France. So that I hope lie might 
 have been betrayed into the fatal error stated in the reports, of thinking 
 that Irish independence was not incompatible with a connexion with 
 Great Britain. 
 
 * In humble reliance on your royal highness's goodness, I will venture 
 to mention another circumstance. In the report of the Irish House of 
 Lords , great stress is laid on a plan , said to have been found among 
 my Min's papers, for the attack of the City of Dublin. That paper was 
 found on the i2th of March ; and a few days after, an armourer who 
 worked in the Ordnance-yard in the Castle of Dublin , on hearing it 
 talked of, went to the L "nder-Secretary of State and desired to see the 
 plan , which , when shown to him , he acknowledged to be his, and that 
 he had sent it, anonymous, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald; and, being 
 asked his reasons for so doing, said, because he understood Lord Edward 
 was a good engineer, and curious in those matters. The plan is not 
 mentioned in the report of the House of Commons drawn up by Lord 
 Castlereagh , \\l\o knew the circumstances. I will leave your royal high- 
 ness to decide , if they could have been unknown to the a mimii (<< of 
 the House of Lords. 
 
 " I fear I have trespassed too long on your royal highness's patience 
 In entering into the detail of particulars, that from my anxiety Snay 
 have appeared to me as favourable ; but , after all , sir, I confess to your 
 royal highness , that my whole dependence and hope of success for my 
 petition is in the goodness of the king's heart, and in his majesty's com- 
 passionate feeling for my unoffending innocent grand-children, and, I 
 trust , 1 shall not be mistaken. 
 
 " I have the honour to be , sir, 
 ' Most gratefully and dutifully, 
 
 " Your ro}'al highness's 
 
 " Obedient servant , 
 (Signed) " E. LEIMSTER." 
 
 TO HIS ROVAI. HIGHNESS GEORGK PRINCE OF WALES , FROM THE DUCHESS DOWAGER 
 
 Itclienor, Oct. 30, 1798^ ' 
 
 OF I KIXSTER. 
 
 "SlR, 
 
 " Never, to the last hour of my life, will the remembrance be effaced 
 from my grateful heart of your royal highness's humane participation of 
 the distress by which it was torn , and of the dreadful anxiety that failed
 
 244 APPENDIX. 
 
 my mind in those sad moments. Complicated horrors have since that 
 time overtaken me, and I was destined to feel the severest shock thaf 
 could hefall my declining age. Sunk , as I now am , in the depth of 
 misery and sorrow, I must still reflect with pleasure on the excellence 
 of that nature which promises blessings to so many thousands, and in 
 which , I am certain , 1 shall find an advocate for the cause of the 
 helpless innocents, in whose favour I have ventured , with submission , 
 to address his majesty, whose goodness and benevolence have ever been 
 conspicuous. From these virtues, sir, I form a strong hope that my 
 application may not be unsuccessful ; and I have taken the liberty, sir, 
 which I hope your royal highness will forgive , of inclosing a copy of 
 my letter for your royal highness's perusal, and, I hope, for your 
 approbation. 
 
 "From my dependence on your royal highness's goodness to me*, I 
 confess my first idea was to request your royal highness would do me 
 the honour to present my letter to the king yourself; but , on reflection , 
 it struck me as too great a presumption, and besides that, being limited 
 in time , as it must be presented before Wednesday next, I thought it 
 might not be convenient to your royal highness if it had otherwise been 
 proper. I have , therefore , ventured to address this request to His Royal 
 Highness the Duke of York , encouraged by the great kindness and 
 condescension his royal highness showed me on a former occasion. And 
 I hoped that his royal highness might feel an additional interest in the 
 fate of my beloved and unfortunate son , from the circumstance of his 
 having been a soldier, and his having distinguished himself as a brave 
 and gallant officer, until his majesty was unfortunately advised to remove 
 him from his service; and from that hour I date all his misfortunes and 
 my own everlasting misery. 
 
 " But I will no longer distress your royal highness's feelings by dwelling 
 on ibis subject, which drew tears from your eyes the last time I had 
 the honour of seeing you tears never to be forgot. Allow me then, sir, 
 to hope that the same benevolence will operate in favour of my unhappy 
 little grand-children ; to your favour and protection permit me to re- 
 commend them ; and confiding in your goodness , my heart will be 
 eased of much of its present anguish , and I shall look towards their 
 welfare in this world with some degree of comfort. With senti- 
 ments, etc., etc., I have the honour to be, etc., etc., 
 
 " Your royal highness's, etc. , etc. , 
 (Signed) " E. LEINSTEB." 
 
 The letter that follows , though containing nothing upon the subject of 
 the Attainder, I insert solely for the sake of its remarks on the Orange 
 party in Ireland; remarks which unluckily, from the singular sameness of 
 wrong that pervades the whole history of that unhappy country, giving 
 to periods , however remote from each other, contemporary features , 
 
 .IK almost as applicable at the moment I transcribe them , as on the 
 d;i\ \vhn they were written. 

 
 APPENDIX 245 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER TO THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 
 
 "Celbridge, 36th October, 1798. 
 " MY DEAR BROTHER, 
 
 " Our rebellion seems lulled by Sir J. Warren's most gallant conduct. 
 I trust in God it will melt away in consequence of softer measures, which 
 alone take off the energy of resistance. That justice is inte/tdedby Lord 
 Cornwallis, every day affirms, but that it has not been executed you 
 will see a striking instance of in a court martial, held in Dublin on a 
 yeoman, named Woolaghan , and two others, Charles and James Fox, 
 for the murder of a man who had been believed a rebel, but was then 
 sick , and perfectly quiet. Lord Cornw allis's order in consequence of this 
 court martial has enraged all the Orange party, who talk of him in the 
 most contemptuous terms ; an^d no wonder at their rage , for we are too 
 much used to murder, alas ! to let the murder of this sick man make 
 much impression ' what signifies a rascally rebel ?' But it records in 
 the most public manner, that in most of the yeomanry corps it was an 
 understood thing that they were to go out , without their officers , 
 in no less number than nine (for their own safety), and shoot whom- 
 ever they thought or suspected to be rebels , and not to bring them in 
 prisoners. 
 
 " Will people still shut their eyes to truth ? will they not see that such 
 is not the way to conciliate his majesty's subjects , or to wean them from 
 the strong passions that have so formidably armed half the nation against 
 the other? Deceived by wicked, cunning men, the passions of the 
 spirited and most courageous have been worked upon to a degree of 
 enthusiasm , which government have kept up by the cruel fuel of 
 deliberate barbarities , under the injured name of loyalty, a name, 
 which has been as much perverted by government , as that of liberty has 
 by republicans. 
 
 '* I am in hopes Lord Cornwallis's evident displeasure will , by being 
 so public, induce a semblance of humanity, at least, if it does not reign 
 in their hearts ; for their cruelty will not take such terrible long strides 
 in face of day ; and the oppressed in private may now venture to discover 
 their sufferings, from some hope of justice." 
 
 The Act of Attainder, as it regarded Lord Edward , is known to have 
 been considered, by the Irish government themselves, as a measure 
 which could not be defended upon legal or constitutional grounds, but 
 which had been rendered necessary, they thought , by the state of the 
 country, and as a means of striking terror into the disaffected. JNo sooner, 
 therefore, had they, in their own opinion, attained this object, than a 
 disposition to relax into a humaner policy showed itself. The first great 
 object of Lord Edward's relatives, after the enactment of the bill, was to 
 secure the property of his infant heirs from passing into other hands ; 
 and in this the friendly zeal of Lord Clare , as will be seen by the 
 following letter, most readily seconded them.
 
 5-iti APPENDIX. 
 
 FROM THE EARL OF CLARE TO WILLIAM OlilLVIE, ESQ. 
 
 " Mount Shannon, May i8th, 1799. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your letter was put into my hands a very few days since, on the 
 
 bench of the Court of Chancery, and I inquired in vain for Mr. Leeson, 
 
 *-*vhoin you announced as the bearer of it. I have been enabled to get 
 
 down here for a very few days, during the recess of parliament , and 
 
 shall return to town in the course of the next week. 
 
 " Before I had the honour of hearing from you, Lady Louisa Conolly 
 had written to me on the same subject, and I did immediately mention 
 to her, that the only opening which is left for the children of Lord 
 Edward is an appeal to the bounty of the crown. I understood from the 
 Duke of Richmond, last autumn, that the Duchess of Leinster had 
 presented a memorial to the king in behalf of the poor little children, and 
 that seems to be the only course which*can be pursued. Immediately 
 on receiving Lady Louisa's letter, I spoke to Lord Castlereagh to give 
 directions to the Attorney-General, not to take any decisive step for 
 seizing the estate until full time should be given for an appeal to the 
 crown, and I make no doubt that Lord Castlereagh has done it. I also 
 recommended to Lady Louisa to apply to Lord Cornwallis to the same 
 effect. This, she told me, she would do by a letter, of which she would 
 make me the bearer, and whenever I receive it from her, you may he 
 assured I will lose no time in delivering it , and that nothing shall be 
 wanting on my part in seconding her application. 
 
 " I have the honour to be , 
 
 " My dear sir, very truly, 
 
 " Your faithful, humble servant , 
 " CLARE." 
 
 The history of this small property may be thus briefly, and , as regards 
 the gentleman who was the chief means of saving it to the family, ho- 
 nourably stated. Lord Clare having, with the approbation of govern- 
 ment, allowed the estate to be sold in Chancery, under the foreclosure 
 of a mortgage to which the Attorney-General was made a parly, 
 Mr. Ogilvie became the purchaser of it for io,5oo/. ; and having, by his 
 good management of the property, succeeded in paying off the mortgage 
 and the judgment debts, he had the satisfaction, at the end of a few 
 years, of seeing the estate restored to its natural course of succession, by 
 settling it upon Lord Edward's son and his heirs for ever. 
 
 At the end of the year 1799, Lady Louisa Conolly and Mr. Ogilvie 
 made their Grst application to the Irish government fora Reversal of the 
 Attainder against Lord Edward, and received assurances from Lord 
 Cornwallis and Lord Clare, that it \\as the intention of government, 
 should the Union be carried , to' propose a General Bill of Indemnity, as 
 the Grst measure of the United Parliament , in which Bill the Repeal of 
 Lord Edward's attainder should be incorporated. A change of ministry, 
 however, taking place before the meeting of the first Union Parliament,
 
 APPENDIX. 247 
 
 these contemplated nirasures fell to the ground : and though every 
 succeeding Irish administration was friendly to the Repeal , it \\as 
 deemed expedient to defer applying for it till a general peace, when a 
 hope was held out that no obstacle would he interposed to the exercise 
 of the Royal Prerogative in recommending this Act of Grace. 
 
 It had been the wish nearest the heart of the venerable mother of 
 Lord Edward to see the attaint removed from the blood of her beloved 
 son, before she died ; and being denied this happiness, the last injunc- 
 tion she laid upon .Mr. Ogilvie was, that he should spare no pains in 
 accomplishing this, her darling object. The task could not be placed in 
 more efficient hands. Besides the sacredness of this last request, and the 
 affectionate interest he had ever taken in all that related to his favourite, 
 Ed \\ard, the- resources of this gentleman's vigorous and well-informed 
 mind fitted him eminently for any task where there were difficulties to be 
 surmounted. 
 
 After the failure of the hope held out by Lord Clare, the accession of 
 the Prince of Wales to the Regency opened the first fair prospect of 
 success for any application to the government on this subject, his Royal 
 Highness having, in the most gracious manner, assured the Duchess of 
 Leinster that " he would , as soon as he had the power, recommend 
 the Repeal of the Act of Attainder." It does not appear, however, to have 
 been till the year i8i5 that the performance of this promise was taken 
 seriously into contemplation. The proposal of the Repeal was then about 
 to be brought forwards, under the sanction of government, when, in 
 consequence of the 'relanding of Napoleon in France, it was thought 
 advisable , by Lord Castlereagh , that the measure should be post- 
 poned. 
 
 As soon as the excitement and alarm of this event had passed away, 
 Mr. Ogilvie again renewed his application to the government, and, in 
 the ensuing year, the foUowing appeal, marked with all the noble sim- 
 plicity of her fine character, was addressed by Lady Louisa Conolly to 
 the Prince Regent : 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE REGE.YT, FROM LADY LOUISA CONOLLY. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Your Royal Highness's goodness to my family on many occasions has 
 invariably left a sense of gratitude on my part , which I hope I am 
 incapable of- ever forgetting; but, in one instance (on a very heart- 
 breaking occasion), it w as shown with such tenderness and benevolence of 
 heart to my beloved sister, Leinster, at the unhappy period of 1798, that 
 I cannot look back to it without my heart filling at the recollection of 
 the consolation that it afforded her, under the severe pressure of her 
 grief. 
 
 " Your Royal Highness then told her, that you would not forget the little 
 hoy Edward : he was not then four years old. She thanked your Royal 
 Highness, and happily lived to see that gracious promise fulfilled, by 
 your Royal Highness's appointment of him to a commission in the Tenth, 
 your Royal Highness's countenance and protection were sufficient
 
 248 APPENDIX. 
 
 to silence the unpleasant circumstances attached to his situation ; and I 
 trust he has not proved unworthy of that goodness , which my dear 
 sister was sensible of to the last moment of her existence. She had but 
 one more object for that cherished grandson , who had succeeded his 
 unfortunate father in her affections and this was the Repeal of the 
 Attainder; her heart was set upon it, and she repeatedly spoke to 
 Mr. Ogilvie and me (should she not live to see it accomplished) never to 
 lose sight of it. 
 
 " In humble supplication, as her deputy, I now take the liberty of 
 addressing your Royal Highness, hoping that some circumstances which 
 I have to relate may not appear unworthy of attention. The late Lord 
 Clare , whose kindness I must ever bear the strongest testimony to, often 
 told me that he thought the thing might be done; but, after restoring 
 the property (which the plea of debt sanctioned him to do immediately), 
 he advised the not agitating the question of Attainder until the Union 
 would present a fair opportunity for bringing it forward. Lord Corn- 
 wallis and Lord Clare both told me, that, at the meeting of the first 
 Union Parliament, they ' expected the two countries to shake hands,' 
 and to bring in a general Bill of Indemnity for consigning to oblivion all 
 animosities. 
 
 " From a variety of circumstances, these hopes have not been realized, 
 and the Attainder still remains on an innocent individual , whose pro- 
 fession and principles, I can venture to say, place him in the rank of a 
 true, loyal subject, such as I hope he will ever be considered by your 
 Royal Highness, and that a gracious boon will now remove the un- 
 merited stains he still lies under. 
 
 "The presumption of this address to your Royal Highness, from a 
 person so long retired from the world as I have been, would be an un- 
 warrantable liberty, if I did not trust to that indulgence of character 
 which I am persuaded will induce your Royal Highness to forgive one 
 who is,, with most unfeigned respect , 
 
 " Your Royal Highness's truly grateful and 
 " Most obedient , humble servant , 
 
 " L. CONOLLV." 
 
 Again was the object of Mr. Ogilvie's anxious pursuit thwarted and 
 delayed , nor was it till three years after, that , chiefly through the kind 
 offices of Lord Liverpool , w hose conduct on the occasion reflects the 
 highest honour upon him , he was able to effect his great object. In the 
 year 1819, the Attainder was repealed. The reasons advanced on behalf 
 of the Petitioner on this occasion were the same in substance with those 
 brought forward in 1798; but the following note from Lord Liverpool 
 to Mr. Ogilvie contains the two points oa which the justice of the case 
 chiefly turned : 
 
 " Fife House, a4th June, 1819. 
 
 " Lord Liverpool presents his compliments to Mr. Ogilvie, and is very 
 desirous , upon communication with others , that it should be stated in 
 the Preamble to the inclosed Bill, that Lord Edward Fitzgerald was not 
 convicted of High Treason upon trial during his life, and that the Bill of 
 Attainder originated and was passed after his death.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 249 
 
 tk Lord L. believes these facts to be true ; and, if they are, they should 
 be inserted in the Preamble, in order that an inconvenient precedent 
 may not be made. 
 
 " If Mr. Ogilvie will send Lord L. the Bill, altered as proposed , he 
 will then obtain the Prince Regent's signature to it, which is necessary 
 previous to its being presented to the House of Lords." 
 
 The case of Gerald, ninth Earl of Kildare, was, on this as on the 
 former occasion , referred to , as an historical precedent for the Act of 
 Grace which the petitioner prayed for ; and the close parallel which (as 
 I have already remarked at the beginning of this work) is to be found 
 between Lord Edward's story and that of his unfortunate ancestor. Lord 
 Thomas, is thus pointed out in one of the documents prepared to be 
 submitted to the House of Lords, in 1819 : 
 
 The Case of Gerald, 9t/i Earl of Kildare. 
 
 He had been for many years employed 
 by Henry VIII as his deputy in Ireland. 
 By his vigorous administration lie had 
 made many enemies , who, by misrepre- 
 sentation , excited the King's jealousy ; 
 and lie was called to England to answer 
 the charges agaiust him , which he did 
 when examined before the Privy Council ; 
 but he was committed to the Tower to 
 wait the King's pleasure. He died in the 
 Tower on the 12th December, 1534 , and 
 was buried in the chapel, as appears by 
 an inscription ou his coffin found many 
 years afterwards. 
 
 His deaih is said to hare beeu caused 
 by grief, at hearing that his sonThomas, 
 whom he had left his vice-deputy, had 
 been induced to resist Lord Gray, who 
 had been sent over by the King as his 
 deputy. 
 
 After various conflicts, Lord Thomas 
 was defeated and taken prisoner at Dro- 
 gheda, in 1535, by Lord Gray, who 
 sent him and his five ancles, two of whom 
 had only been in arms , to England. They 
 were tried and all executed for high 
 treason, on the 2d February, 1535. And 
 iu a Parliament, held in Ireland in 1537, 
 an Act of Attainder, 28th Henry VIII, 
 
 7 he Case of the late Lord Edward Fitzge- 
 rald. 
 
 Lord Edward entered into the army 
 during the American war, and served un- 
 der the Marquis Cornwallis, Lord Rawdon 
 and General O'Hara , with great distinc- 
 tion , having been promoted to the rank 
 of major, in 1783; but, in the year 
 1792, was dismissed the service by a 
 letter from the Secretary at War. The 
 causes that led to this measure are known 
 to their Royal Highnesses the Prince Re- 
 gent and the Duke of York ; and were of 
 a political nature. 
 
 In the month of March, 1798 , 14 indi- 
 viduals were arrested at a meeting iu 
 Dublin , with their papers, by a govern- 
 ment warrant, charged with treasonable 
 practices, and committed to prison. And 
 a proclamation was issued for apprehend- 
 ing Lord Edward Fitzgerald, charged 
 as their accomplice. On the 25th of May, 
 Lord Edward was apprehended , after 
 resistance , mortally wounded , and com- 
 mitted to prison , where he died of his 
 wounds on the 4th of June. About this 
 period , insurrections had taken place in 
 several parts of Ireland, which were sup- 
 pressed by the King's troops. And on the 
 restoration of tranquillity, two acts were 
 passed by the Irish Parliament. The one 
 
 c. 1 , was passed against Gerald , Earl of an act of indemnity and pardon to the 1 4 
 Kildare, his son, Thomas, and two of ringleaders apprehended in March; and 
 
 the uncles, and others. 
 
 the other, an act of attainder against the 
 late Lord Edward, their associate, and 
 two other men who had been made pri- 
 soners at the Battle of Wexford, tried 
 by a court-martial , condemned and exe- 
 cuted.
 
 2.',l> APPENDIX. 
 
 Gerald, uow eldest sou of the late Edward, only sou of Lord Edward, 
 
 earl, beiug pursued by the King , fled to was iu his third year at the time of his 
 
 the continent, where he served under the father's death. He was brought up by his 
 
 Duke of Florence, and was eminently grandmother, the late Duchess of Leins- 
 
 distiuguished. ter ; educated at Eton and Marlow ; and 
 
 On the death of Henry he was recalled before the age of 16 , called to his Ma- 
 
 by his son, Edward VI , and restored to jesty's service by H. R. H. the Prince Re- 
 
 all his family estates and honours. 
 
 gent, who appointed him a cornet in his 
 
 In the 1st and 2d of Philip and Mary, own regiment, in which lie served dur- 
 letters patent were issued renewing all ing the war in Portugal, Spain, aud 
 the grants made by Edward VI, and con- France, till the peace in 1814, honoured 
 firmed by an Irish Act of Parliament, the by the approbation of the Duke of Wel- 
 3d and 4th of Philip and Mary, c. 2, liugton, and rewarded by his R. H. rais- 
 s. 5. And further, on a petition from Ge- ing him to the rank of captain in bis 
 raid, his brother aud sister, to Queen own regiment before he had attained the 
 Elizabeth, to be restored to their blood , age of 21. 
 
 au act was passed by the parliament of Lord Edward's small property was 
 Ireland, the 1 1th of Elizabeth, Session 4, 'mortgaged; the mortgagee foreclosed. 
 c. 2 , entitled An Act to restore Gerald , The estate was sold in Chancery, and pur- 
 Earl of Kildare, his brother and sisters, chased for 10,500^., by William Ogilvic, 
 to their blood. Esq., who has conveyed it to Captain 
 
 Fitzgerald , charged with 4,00(M. to his 
 two sisters. Captain Fitzgerald and his 
 sisters have presented a petition to his 
 R. H. the Prince Regent , praying for au 
 
 act of grace, which his R. H. has been 
 
 pleased to receive graciously, and to re- 
 commend to the Earl of Liverpool. 
 
 The prayer of the petition is, to recom- 
 mend to Parliament to pass a bill similar 
 to the llth Elizabeth, Session 4 , c. 2, 
 to restore Captain Edward Fitzgerald aud 
 his sisters to their blood. 
 
 The conduct of the Prince Regent , in recommending this act of 
 generous justice , received for its reward two as flattering and honour- 
 able tributes as sovereign has ever won from independent minds, 
 namely, a declaration from Lord Holland, in the House of Lords , " that 
 it was the act of a wise, gracious, and high-minded Prince ," and the 
 following laudatory verses from the pen of Lord Byron : 
 
 To be the father of the fatherless, 
 
 To stretch the hand from the throne's height , aud raise 
 
 His offspring, who expired in other days, 
 To make thy sire's sway by a kingdom less , 
 This is to be a monarch , aud repress 
 
 Envy into unutterable praise. 
 
 Dismiss thy guard, and trust thee to such traits, 
 For* who would lift a hand , except to bless? 
 
 Were it not easy, Sir, and is 't not sweet 
 
 To make thyself beloved? and to be 
 
 Omnipotent by mercy's means? for thus 
 Thy sovereignty would grow but more complete, 
 
 A despot thou , aud yet thy people free, 
 
 And by the heart, not hand, enslaving us.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 It had been my intention, from among the papers with which the 
 kindness of several friends lias intrusted to me , to select a good many 
 more illustrative of the general state of Ireland , during the period to 
 which the chief part of these volumes refers. The documents relating , 
 however, to the Attainder have occupied so much space , as to leave no 
 room hut for the two letters and extract that follow : 
 
 FROM LADY SARAH NAPIER ' TO THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES FOX. 
 
 " An opportunity of sending you a letter by a private hand happens 
 to occur, and I take advantage of it, my dear Charles, merely to indulge 
 myself in the satisfaction of conversing with A on , \<i/i\ gene, upon tlit> 
 present state of politics in both countries, as they affect each individual 
 now too nearly not to make politicians of us all. I certainly care most 
 about Ireland, for whose salvation I had a gleam of hope when it was 
 with good reason known to our family that the prince's coming over was 
 in the balance for a moment. Had it taken place, the eclat of his situation, 
 manners, and good-will, would have served for an excuse to many, and 
 a reason to others, to join an administration that was independent of 
 Pitt , and had Lord Moira for minister, whose honour is too strict not to 
 win over millions to trust him ; and ' there is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 which ,' etc. , etc. 
 
 "Such a period we had, and it is lost; but still I vainly flattered 
 mvsclf it would be resumed (though late and less effectually) , when the 
 M. grew frightened at the blackening storm ; but now I despair of 
 success in that line, for the prince seems to have caught the royal dis- 
 temper ; unsteady weakness seizes him at the most important instant of 
 his life, and he timidly withdraws from the active scene the times had 
 so evidently pointed out to him. This appears from the papers saying 
 ' Ihc prince withdrew when the question was put' for I know nothing 
 else as yet of the cause , and am anxiously hoping it may be better 
 explained ; but now it is a mere milk and water conduct , and not only 
 because the happy moment is lost do I regret it , but who can hereafter 
 depend on his steadiness? What a prospect to us all who hate a republic, 
 as a bad government for these kingdoms , and because we know that 
 even absolute monarchy is better, and a limited monarchy just what is 
 best of all for us! "What are we to do? are we to fight for a cause the 
 head of which won't support itself? and yet what an alternative ! must 
 
 ' In this letter, her ladyship , it will be seen , had no further share than that of 
 acting as amanuensis to her husband. 
 
 There is no date to the letter, but it must have been written shortly after the ex- 
 pedition of the French to Bautry Bay; at whicli time, Plowdensays, "Catholic 
 emancipation and temperate reform were again confidentially spoken of, aud Lord 
 Camilla , M-hose administration was pledged to resist these two questions, it was ge- 
 nerally expected, would immediately resign. These flatteriug prospects were encou- 
 ragedljy the then prevailing reports that the Prince of Wales had offered his services 
 to the king to go to Ireland in quality of Lord Lieutenant, with Lord Moira as Com- 
 mander in Chief. The power of the Irish junta , however, prevailed j the system of 
 coercion preponderated; and the offer even of the heir-apparent to the crown to 
 attempt the conciliation of the Irish people was rejected."
 
 262 APPENDIX. 
 
 we join rebels and republicans, quite, quite contrary to our feelings and 
 sentiments? No, surely. What then ? We must fall the martyrs to our 
 principles and our opinions with our eyes open. This is sad , but I for 
 my own part feel it a necessary duty to myself never to swerve from what 
 I think right because it 's convenient. If all Britain insisted on a republic, 
 like France, then I would not oppose them , though I would never join; 
 but if only a part do , then civil war must exist, and includes all misery, 
 to honest men first, and to rogues in the end. This is my creed ; 
 consequently I lament from my heart and soul the failure of the prince's 
 courage, for s'il avail de le'tnffe, much might still be made of it. I like 
 him, nay, love him so much, I hate to think him wrong, but I cannot 
 be blind to the errors of my dearest friends , though I can forgive them ; 
 and , if it is true, where else are we'to look for a plan of support for this 
 poor country? For God's sake, dear Charles, think of it more seriously 
 than just to make it a parliamentary debate. Plan something, and plan in 
 time. I am sure there are many people willing, and a few able, to try to 
 put it into force , but here all is a chaos of self-interest , spite , distrust , 
 and no plan whatever. 
 
 " Yet a plan might be made use of to strike all parties with its merits. 
 The trial at least would be made, and if it failed, your mind would 
 receive comfort from having attempted the salvation of a whole people by 
 trying to avert a civil war. By a plan I mean you to point out what 
 should be done and undone, and who should do it. I know that a very 
 sensible plan of this sort was written , and sent to the prince ; but it is 
 too vague , and , besides , I so well know its author that one day he is 
 be-chancellor'd , another be-Ponsonby'd , another persuaded to believe 
 every thing by a third party, and so on ; from such vacillation , what 
 plan can be attended to? I know that there must be unc bonne bouche 
 pour chaque chef, car tout homme a son prix ; show will do for some , 
 vanity for others, a secret for a third, a job for a fourth, honour for a 
 fifth, and doing good is a sure loadstone to all men of principle, if you 
 can convince them it is do-able, which truly, in these times , requires 
 your genius to discover, your eloquence to persuade. But if you are really 
 persuaded , that if such and such engines could all move together, it 
 would save Ireland, why not try? I have no opinion whatever of any 
 politicians here (by the way, when I am such an egotist, pray understand 
 that I speak the opinions of wiser heads than mine , in my ow n nam, 
 for shortness; for me, individual me, am nobody in this letter). Go- 
 vernment people are so Pitied, that they 've the insolence to say, ' Yes , 
 it 's all very true, we are undone, and by our own faults ; but now the 
 case is so desperate, you see there is but one remedy, to join hand and 
 heart fairly to rescue us from the impending ruin, for to find fault now 
 is only increasing the evil.' In short, the plain English , is ' I ruined you , 
 I lied , and cheated you ; but trust me again , and I will try to save you, 
 though I own I don't see how.' You know the answer to that between 
 individuals would be a kick , tout uniment, and a new man taken (and , 
 methinks , Mr. Pitt is getting it) ; but here we have nobody fit to give 
 the kick, though plenty fit to take it. 
 
 **** 
 
 " Our near connexions would do very well as kings with viceroys over
 
 APPENDIX. 263 
 
 them, for that's their foible; they like to be thought the leaders, but both 
 equally dread to be so, because they feel themselves unequal to it, and 
 won't own it; but both love you, and would delight to follow you, if 
 they understood you. But the difficulty is to prevent their falling into 
 the mistakes their xoi-disnnt friends wished to lead them into. In short , 
 opposition is (to apply the old allusion), * a perfect rope of sand.' As to 
 the great men of power, all is centred in the chancellor, the speaker, and 
 the secretary. As for poor dear Lord Camdeu, c cst la bonhomie pcr- 
 snnnifie'c but as he has no will of his own , he can never do here. The 
 C. and S. are the very devil in obstinacy about the catholics, and will 
 never shrink; all the rest of their tribe would kiss your toe, even if you 
 were in power to-morrow, and of course would kiss the Pope's, if it 
 suited them. Lord Charlemont would be glad of an excuse to relinquish 
 his former anti-catholic violence at least in every thing else he is right. 
 The Beresfords, like moles, would work under ground, but a few civil 
 things and a few places would cool them. In short, if a plan was formed, 
 and known only to Lord Moira, who is the lord-lieutenant I want, and 
 to a very, very few indeed besides him, and if it was suddenly to be put 
 into execution, it would so amaze the United Irishmen that half their 
 forces would insensibly leave them : for, I believe you may rely on it, 
 that it is only because government has driven them to the brink , that 
 they wish to jump in, and that they would rejoice to have ample room 
 to recover from the danger. As for all dirty placemen and runners, I 
 would make main fouweoftbem all, even if you picked them up hereafter; 
 they should do penance first ; and the few honourable and good place 
 men I know, of which there do exist a few, would gladly join you, 
 and serve you well, if your advice came through the medium of such a 
 man as Lord Moira to enforce it. 
 
 " There must soon happen some crisis here. Our king sends millions 
 to slaughter, and yet we cannot, in common sense, wish his crown to 
 fall and to belong to a republic of tyrants, as all republics are. Our 
 prince, whose eyes are open to the impending danger, says he will try 
 to save us , and shrinks at the moment he ought to act. The ministers 
 drive us to perfect ruin in England, and rebellion here ; and when they 
 are detected , and driven from their power, you , to whose honest 
 conduct 'and good sense the power will devolve, will complete our 
 desl ruction by leaving such dangerous animals loose among us, to work 
 up democracy to its maddest state, to head their party, and hurl the king 
 and the royal family from the throne, and sacrifice your life because yon 
 saved theirs. Perhaps you. will say, ' I grant this, but I had rather they 
 were murderers than me. I will do my duty, and, if I fall, I cannot help 
 it.' But, dearest Charles, think well what is the duty of the minister of 
 a great country. Is justice to be out of the question ? Is the example given 
 to future ministers, not to lavish the lives, fortunes, and happiness of 
 subjects , to go for nothing ? and are not a few lives better to sacrifice 
 than millions of innocent persons ? Weigh this well , and do not un- 
 dertake being minister, if you have not firmness to do all its duties. 
 Perhaps you think me bloody-minded , I do not feel myself so, when I 
 see, on one hand, four or five men tried, condemned, and executed, 
 by the most fair trial, and on the other, a field of battle, a country
 
 551 APPENDIX. 
 
 Imrned and wasted with fire, sword, and famine. These are serious 
 times, full of events, and you should poise your conduct with them. 
 
 " To return to Ireland : 1 hope you know that nobody can be believed 
 about its state , for every body is more or less deceived by the United 
 Irishmen, c'est un bruit sourd, mnis stir, and all we can relv on is that 
 it exists. To form a calculation from the different accounts I hear, I 
 leave out all reports from the' clergy, from the magistrates, from govern- 
 ment people, I only reckon the reports of military men of reason on the 
 facts, that have come before them, and thus it stands. In the North about 
 70,000 men, chiefly armed with pikes, many muskets and guns, some am- 
 munition, a captain, lieutenant, and Serjeant to each troop or district, who 
 report to private committees, and they to the general committee at Bel- 
 fast. As soon as any are suspected, they offer themselves as yeomen, take 
 the oath of allegiance, and are quiet. Parties of banditti are employed to 
 collect arms and annoy people; if they fall, it 's no loss; if they bring them, 
 its a gain. The catholics of the South, are desirous to avail themselves of 
 the times to abolish tithes and nothing else; the presbyterians of the 
 North look to more. Reform is the handle, and much too plausible to be 
 condemned ; but how is it possible any persons in their senses can 
 expect an efficacious or just reform to arrive in an instant upon an in- 
 surrection, unless it was planned, and in the hands of a set of men 
 whose abilities , power, and riches could give them weight ? No such set 
 seems to exist. There is not one military genius among them ( I don't 
 except even O'Connor's friend, who knows less than he is supposed to 
 do). That you will say is easily got from France , which is fertile in 
 them ; but a stranger will make no figure with the Paddies at home, for 
 every Paddy will direct, and not one obey; so that I do not at all despair of 
 conquering the Monsche^rs and the 70,000 Paddies all at once, if we 
 had but a general of sense , instead of 4o without it, or rather a general 
 that the troops loved and trusted ; and I know none so fit for that as 
 Lord Moira , who would lead them to certain conquest, if we ever have 
 the misfortune to want to fight our own countrymen. But, I repeat it 
 again and again, his name would disarm the North, and he can never 
 come in any way, but as lord-lieutenant , or minister to the prince , 
 commander-in-chief, under him alone. Why did you let the Duke of 
 York get such false notions about the catholics? for, if he was right 
 about them, he would do here , though not near so well as the prince. 
 Give us but a showy royal lord-lieutenant for the mob, and Lord Moira 
 for the business, and we will soon find the men and the money in Ireland 
 t.o save it, and we won't ask you for one Englishman. A few Scotch re- 
 giments are useful, because they are so very steady, manageable, and 
 active; but Paddy wants only an example of good discipline to follow it, 
 if their officers would let them , whose fault all irregularity is, for 
 the men are excellent ; but a commander-in-chief who knew his business 
 would soon set that to rights. Adieu. I dare not make the smallest 
 attempt to excuse what is, I believe, inexcusable, for I have let my 
 imagination run on to suppose you a magician, who have only to wave 
 your wand, and bring us peace and happiness."
 
 APPEMDiX. 
 
 KP.OM LAin SAIiAH \AHK1! TO THE DIKE Ol I',ICHMOM>. 
 
 "1797 
 
 "In summer last, upon government finding that an invasion was 
 probable, they began to consider what defence might be necessary. Lord 
 Carhampton is our neighbour, and, without living much together, \M- 
 have every intercourse of neighbourly society, and Colonel Napier has 
 taken a great liking to him , because he is a plain-dealing, frank rh -.- 
 racter, and extremely active and good-natured in doing justice to all 
 about him. He is an unpopular man , and has been cruelly injured in his 
 character, in llie very instance where he deserved the highest praise. 
 From his taking a good deal to Colonel Napier, the sentiments of the 
 latter never weie one moment a secret from Lord Carhampton , and it is 
 requisite to explain this before I tell you , that, in the month of August 
 last, Lord Carhampton, meeting Colonel Napier in the streets, said, 
 ' ^ou are the very man I want ;' then, taking him in private, gave a 
 full account of the state of Ireland, saying, ' YVhat we want is a man of 
 science, of judgment . of honour, and honesty, and who will not allow 
 of jobs, to examine the country, and tell us what places are fittest to 
 strengthen, how to do it , what it will cost without a job, and still less 
 \\ithout absurd savings in things of importance; and a man whose 
 perseverance will see the thing concluded as it ought. You are the very 
 man to do all this ; but you have such scruples and delicacies about men 
 and places, that we must understand one another first. Take notice , it is 
 no favour we do you, it is you do us one, for we want such men as you. 
 If you will undertake this , you will have the common pay, and your 
 expenses paid.' Colonel Napier instantly answered, ' Nothing is so easy 
 as to understand me : first, I feel excessively flattered, and obliged to 
 _iour lordship, for the manner of this offer, and, whatever comes of it, 
 I shall always be grateful for the confidence you repose in me; as to 
 politics, you know 1 hold Mr. Pitt to be the bane of his country, and of 
 course could never utter a falsehood and praise him ; but never did I for 
 a moment hesitate to follow the duties of my profession , which I hold 
 too high by far ever to subject them to political opinions. The country, 
 you say, is in danger. I am ready and happy to serve it, if in my power. 
 I \\aut uo place or emolument, and, if you chuse it, I will go directly 
 to such places as you point out, and make my report to you for your pri- 
 vate use.' ' Oh no,' cried Lord Carhampton, ' I want to employ you ; it 
 is a shame such a man should not be employed in these times, when they 
 are so much wanted. May I name you to the Lord-Lieutenant ?' 'Will 
 you be so kind as to give me a short time, to write over for leave from 
 l he Duke of York ? As there is no actual fighting here , he might think 1 
 wished to evade the N\ est Indies, and I hold it my duty to avoid no 
 service whatever, and, being under his command, I wish to write.' 'Do 
 so.' It was done, and Lord Carhampton, who was at that time-getting 
 himself made Commander-iu-Chief (unknown to us), was some time 
 before he sent for Colonel Napier. When be did, it appeared that the
 
 256 APPENDIX. 
 
 Adjutant-General here, a very remarkable good officer, had, without 
 letting us know of it, proposed Colonel Napier as a most useful officer 
 to government ; and, when the different people each found their protege 
 to be one and the same person, you will allow it was a flattering way thus 
 se trouver sur les rangs sans le savoir. The moment the French fleet 
 was seen, of course he sent in his name to ask for service, and was 
 ordered to head-quarters , where he was trusted, consulted, and em- 
 ployed. His nature is such, that the idea of service animates him, and 
 wholly absorbs his thoughts, in order to leave nothing undone or un- 
 thought of that may be necessary. When one sees a person very dear to 
 one appearing in their element, all activity in a good and useful cause, 
 don't you, dear brother, comprehend the spirit it gives one? I 
 declare I forgot it was war ; I only thought it was duty, and not a cloud 
 came across me, to check his ardour in the occupation he was engaged 
 in of calculating the things absolutely wanted to take the field and defend 
 posts. In the midst of all this, what was your astonishment to find Lord 
 Carhampton fly out into the most petulant, pee\ ish^ittack on Colonel 
 Napier, for saying, in the course of conversation, that ' the war was 
 calamitous and ruinous.' Every soul was in amazement at the strangeness 
 of the attack , and glad to hear Colonel Napier show the proper spirit of 
 a man conscious of his own integrity, loyalty, and honour. Indeed, to do 
 Lord Carhampton justice, he seemed soriy he had given way to this 
 moment d'humeur, for at first we thought it nothing else ; and thinking 
 so, Colonel Napier told him fairly, that, as his want of confidence put 
 an end to all pleasure in serving under him , he should undoubtedly 
 resign his place, at any other period, but, with an enemy on our coasts, 
 it was no time to allow private feelings to interfere, and he should do 
 his duty without pleasure equally well as with it but certainly without 
 pay, and would take nothing for it. Here it might have ended; Colonel 
 Napier would have gone, and returned soon, and nothing more said: 
 but , for some reason , still a mystery, though nearly guessed at by us , 
 the next day Lord Carhampton sent for him , and , changing his ground 
 entirely, put it on the most curious reasoning of which the following is 
 the meaning : ' I, Commander-in-chief, acknowledging that your merit 
 as an officer may be of essential service , respecting you in my private 
 capacity to the highest degree , do notwithstanding decline recommend- 
 ing you for service in the north, but not in the south, where I request 
 you to go with me ; and my reason is , that you say conciliatory 
 measures are preferable to coercion there, and will answer the purpose ; 
 and therefore I should affront Lord Londonderry and LordCastlereagh, 
 by sending an officer to any part of the north that held a language 
 different from theirs. Not that I doubt your loyalty the least, but we 
 are determined to use coercion only. Consider, I am only an insignificant 
 part of an administration , and must follow their system.' This was so 
 true, that what could Colonel Napier do, but bow and assent to his 
 lorship's assertion of his own insignificance ? and there it ended."
 
 APPENDIX. 2.V7 
 
 EXTRACT FROM AN UNPUBLISHED PAMPHLET, ADDRESSED TO JUS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 THE DUKE OF SUSSEX, BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 
 
 " From any distant retrospects as between these two countries I most 
 willingly abstain , wishing as I do in the sincerity of my heart to press 
 no claim, and to speak no language inconsistent with the kindest spirit 
 of conciliation and amity. Whatever of harshness may have happened in 
 distant times has passed away ; the actors and the suilerers are no more, 
 and their resentments ought to lie buried with them. It might have been 
 hoped that the great compact of 1782 , by which Ireland pledged herself, 
 upon the express condition of 'equal liberty, 'to abide and partake a common 
 destiny, standing or falling, with Great Britain (vain and fond expect~ 
 ation ! ) would have been infrangible and immortal. Little did that 
 illustrious man ' , whose filial piety had raised the liberty of his native 
 land from the tomb of ages, little did he foresee that, in eighteen short 
 years , it would be his sad fortune to see the triumphal car exchanged 
 for the hearse , and to see her once more consigned to the darkness of 
 the grave. But so her fate was written; and such the destiny of the 
 dearest of her children ; and he has lived to read the inscription upon 
 her monument in the Act of Union. But, perhaps, sir, I ought to ask 
 pardon; I ought not to repine at those inscrutable decrees which ordain 
 that nations shall be mortal as the men that compose them. 
 
 " To come down, therefore, calmly to this last epoch of Ireland : ii 
 that measure had our free assent , and was really a compact , if there be 
 such a thing upon earth as moral obligation , the terms of that compact 
 should have been exactly performed. If, by the remorseless subornation 
 of a treacherous and perfidious venality, to which the records of human 
 turpitude can produce no parallel, it was forced upon us, how soft ought 
 to be the sympathy of England, and how ardent her wish to indemnify us 
 for our sufferings, and to reconcile vis to our fortune ? Sir, I feel I am 
 warranted in asserting, that the assent of the catholics of Ireland, which 
 was so laboriously solicited, was obtained upon tle express promise of 
 their perfect emancipation ; and that promise was violated with that 
 noble contempt of good faith, with which almost every minister preserves 
 his power in defiance of his honour, and prosecutes the vulgar libeller 
 who dares to say that he is a villain. But, sir, if that measure was in fact 
 forced upon us , be pleased to look at the change which we have 
 suffered. From the stature of an independent nation, legislating for 
 herself, exercising that right, without which liberty is but a name, of 
 deciding upon what occasion and to what ex.tent she ought to tax herself, 
 she has sunk to the dimensions of a province, degraded from the rank , 
 and even the name, of a nation, and depending upon the mercy of a 
 power, with which she cannot parley, for adjusting in what contingency 
 and to what amount she shall be a residuary claimant upon the fruits of 
 her own labour; for measuring how much of her blood, instead of 
 feeding her growth, shall be wasted in ruinous and wanton wars, which 
 her independence might have contributed to check , and in the result of 
 
 ' .Mr. Grattau. 
 
 17
 
 25C APPENDIX. 
 
 which it cannot even he pretended that she can have any ultimate inte- 
 rest; and, last of all , (a state the most humiliating and agonising ! ) she 
 is hanging upon the caprice, the ignorance, and the malice of her most 
 rancorous enemies, for such representations as may lead those who are in 
 authority over her, instead of yielding to the natural spirit of mildness 
 and benevolence, to enact such laws of rigour, as supersede every known 
 and ordinary rule of distributive justice , and shut the gates of mercy 
 upon her. 
 
 " However, the Act of Union did pass Ireland became extinct and, 
 \ve might have thought, forgotten, had it not been for the notices taken 
 of her in the imperial statutes of vengeance or taxation. Profligacy is in 
 general a ready money dealer, and Ireland had in the first instance to 
 pay down the wages stipulated by the minister of England to those 
 honourable gentlemen who sold their country for money. Since that sale 
 and delivery, her pecuniary burdens, the only items of national degra- 
 dation that can be estimated by numbers, have been increased tenfold. 
 Whatever ordinary comforts she possessed before have vanished in the 
 same proportion; the artificial rise of prices, and the depreciation of all 
 solid medium of payment, sinking under the baleful contagion of a paper 
 currency, has put every thing beyond the reach of attainment ; and the 
 only expenditure in which we are able to be liberal is the augmentation 
 of the princely revenues of clerks and viceroys : who, feeling their ad- 
 vancement late, and their tenure precarious, are forced, by the existing 
 circumstances of the just and necessary warfare in which they are 
 engaged , to adopt such expedients as may provide indemnity for the 
 past, and security for the future ; and after an interval of fourteen years, 
 during which the makers of those promises have perhaps met in another 
 world with those to whom they were so perfidiously given , our poor 
 people, instead of being planted out in goodly rows in their own native 
 soil , from which they might have drawn nutrition, and have given orna- 
 ment and shelter in exchange, have been left to wither upon its surface dry 
 and sapless and inflammable, and ready to receive the spark which every 
 fool and every incendiary may fling upon them to excite a conflagration, 
 in which they themselves at least are sure to be consumed. 
 
 " I well remember, sir, at the moment of that sad catastrophe we were 
 desirous of making the best of our prospect, and placing it in the least 
 intolerable point of view; we were desirous of indignantly remembering 
 the depravity of a traitorous parliament, the wages of whose sin was 
 death, instead of recollecting that during the last thirty years of its life 
 it had wrought a more substantial change in the condition of Ireland by 
 the salutary and wise extension of catholic privilege , than had been 
 effected for centuries before. It had given the power of acquiring pro- 
 perty, and , grafted upon that acquisition , it had given the elective fran- 
 chise constitutional privileges of the most vital importance. It had 
 removed the bars to intermarriage between catholic and protestant ; it 
 had given an opportunity of assuaging the sharpness of fanatical antipathy 
 by the precious anodyne of parental and conjugal attachment, of drawing 
 into identity hearts theretofore dissociated , and giving to the conciliated 
 parents a common ear through which they could receive , and melt 
 while they received it, the sacred voice of God and nature from the lips
 
 APPENDIX. 257 
 
 of their babes and sucklings. We were fondly consoling ourselves with 
 the hope that the amalgamation of our country, by the extension of equal 
 rights to all our fellow subjects , would have restored to us more than 
 we had lost by the national suicide. We endeavoured to persuade ourselves 
 that the substantial fruils of good institutions may survive in their spirit 
 even after the letter has been lost. In Scotland we had seen the diffusion 
 of popular information , and even the refinements of her metaphysics, 
 aided by the inflexible austerity of religious independence, purged from 
 all the ferocity of the days of Knox, but retaining an untameable hostility 
 to oppression , a substitute for almost the utter absence of national repre- 
 sentation. It produced the effect so finely described by Saint Paul, ' The 
 heathen knows not the law, yet he doth the things that are therein, the 
 same being written on his heart, and his conscience also bearing unlo 
 him testimony.' 
 
 " In England, too, the force of constitutional instinct, so impressed 
 upon the popular mind, has compensated for the purity of representation, 
 which , perhaps, it has survived. In Ireland we hoped it might have 
 been so ; but the perfidy we met with has hitherto precluded the 
 experiment." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE 
 
 EPICUREAN, 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 PARIS, 
 
 BAWDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY, 
 
 RUE DC COQ, BEAR THE LOl'VnF. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT, RUE DE LA PAIX ; TRUCHY , BOULEVARD DBS ITALIENS 
 
 TIIEOPHILE BARROIS, JUN., RUE DE RICHELIEU ; LIBRAIRIE DBS ETRAK6KRS, 
 
 55, ROE NEUVE SAIJiT-AUCb'STIS , AMD FRENCH AND ENGLISH LIBRARY , 
 
 RUE VIVIENNK. 
 
 1835.
 
 
 PRINTED BY ORAPEI.HT, Q, RUE DE VAUGIRARD
 
 TO 
 
 LORD JOHN RUSSELL 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS INSCRIBED 
 BY ONE WHO ADMIRES HIS CHARACTER 
 
 AND TALENTS , 
 AND IS PROUD OF HIS FRIENDSHIP. 

 

 
 LETTER TO THE TRANSLATOR, 
 
 FROM 
 
 , ESQ. 
 
 Cairo, June 19, 1800. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 ( 
 IN a visit I lately paid to the monastery of St. Macarius , 
 
 which is situated, as you know, in the Valley of the Lakes 
 of Natron , I was lucky enough to obtain possession of a 
 curious Greek manuscript , which, in the hope that you may 
 be induced to translate it , I herewith send you. Observing 
 one of the monks very busily occupied in tearing up, into 
 a variety of fantastic shapes, some papers which had the 
 appearance of being the leaves of old books, I inquired- of 
 him the meaning of his task, and received the following 
 explanation : 
 
 The Arabs , it seems , who are as fond of pigeons as the 
 ancient Egyptians , have a superstitious notion that, if they 
 place in their pigeon-houses small scraps of paper, written 
 over with learned characters , the birds are always sure to 
 thrive the better for the charm; and the monks, who are 
 never slow in profiting by superstition, have, at all times, a 
 supply of such amulets for purchasers. 
 
 In general , the holy fathers have been in the habit of 
 scribbling these mystic fragments themselves; but a disco- 
 very, which they have lately made, saves them this trouble. 
 Having dug up (as my informant stated) a chest of old
 
 4 
 
 manuscripts, which, being chiefly on the subject of nl- 
 chemy, must have been buried in the time of Dioclesian , 
 " we thought we could not," added the monk, " employ 
 such rubbish more properly, than in tearing it up , as you 
 see, for the pigeon-houses of the Arabs." 
 
 On my expressing a wish to rescue some part of these 
 treasures from the fate to which his indolent fraternity had 
 consigned them , he produced the manuscript which 1 have 
 now the pleasure of sending you , the only one, he said, 
 remaining entire, and I very readily paid him the price 
 he demanded for it. 
 
 You will find the story, I think, not altogether unin- 
 teresting ; and the coincidence, in many respects, of the cu- 
 rious details in chapter VI. with the description of the same 
 ceremonies in the Romance of Sethos \ will, I have no 
 doubt, strike you. Hoping that you may be tempted to give 
 a translation of this Tale to the world , 
 
 I am , my dear Sir, 
 Very truly yours , 
 
 .Vj? 
 
 The description , here alluded to , may also be found , copied verba- 
 tim, from Sethos , in the Voyages d'Ante'jior. " In that philosophical 
 romance, called La Vie de Sethos ," says Warburton, " \ve find a much 
 juster account of old Egyptian wisdom , than in all the pretended His- 
 toire du del." Div. Leg. book 4- sect. i4-
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was in the fourth year of the reign of the late Emperor Vale- 
 rian , that the followers of Epicurus, who were at that time numer- 
 ous in Athens , proceeded to the election of a person to fill the 
 vacant chair of their sect ; and , by the unanimous voice of the 
 School , I was the individual chosen for their Chief. I was just then 
 entering on my twenty-fourth year, and no instance had ever before 
 occurred, of a person so young being selected for that office. 
 Youth, however, and the personal advantages that adorn it, were 
 not , it may be supposed , among the least valid recommendations , 
 to a sect that included within its circle all the beauty as well as wit 
 of Athens , and which , though dignifying its pursuits with the name 
 of philosophy, was little else than a pretext for the more refined cul- 
 tivation of pleasure. 
 
 The character of the sect had, indeed, much changed, since 
 the time of its wise and virtuous founder , who , while he asserted 
 that Pleasure is the only Good , inculcated also that Good is the only 
 source of Pleasure. The purer part of this doctrine had long eva- 
 porated , and the temperate Epicurus would have as little recognized 
 his own sect in the assemblage of refined voluptuaries wlio now 
 usurped its name , as he would have known his own quiet Garden 
 in the luxurious groves and bowers among which the meetings of 
 the School were now held. 
 
 Many causes, besides the attractiveness of its doctrines, con- 
 curred . at this period , to render our school the most popular of 
 any that still survived (lie glory of Greece. It may generally be ob- 
 served, that the prevalence, in one half of a community, of very rigid 
 notions on the subject of religion , produces the opposite extreme 
 of laxity and infidelity in the other; and this kind of re-action it was 
 that now mainly contributed to render the doctrines of the Garden 
 the most fashionable philosophy of the day. The rapid progress of 
 the Christian failh had alarmed all those, who, cither from 
 picly or worldline>s , were interested in the continuance of the
 
 6 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 old established creed all who believed in the Deities of Olympus . 
 and all who lived by them. The consequence was , a considerable 
 increase of zeal and activity, throughout the constituted authorities 
 and priesthood of the whole Heathen world. What was wanting in 
 sincerity of belief was made up in rigour -, the weakest parts of the 
 Mythology were those, of course, most angrily defended, and any 
 reflections , tending to bring Saturn, or his wife Ops, into contempt, 
 were punished with the utmost severity of the law. 
 
 In this state of affairs , between the alarmed bigotry of the de- 
 clining Faith , and the simple , sublime austerity of her rival , it 
 was not wonderful that those lovers of ease and pleasure , who had 
 no interest , reversionary or otherwise , in the old religion , and 
 were too indolent to inquire into the sanctions of the new , should 
 lake refuge from the severities of both under the shelter of a luxuri- 
 ous philosophy, which, leaving to others the task of disputing 
 about the future , centered all its wisdom in the full enjoyment of the 
 present. 
 
 The sectaries of the Garden had , ever since the death of their 
 founder, been accustomed to dedicate to his memory (he twentieth 
 day of every month. To these monthly rites had , for some fime , 
 been added a grand annual Festival , in commemoration of his birth. 
 The feast, given on this occasion by my predecessors in the Chair, 
 had been invariably distinguished for their taste and splendour ; 
 and it was my ambition , not merely to imitate this example , but 
 even" to render the anniversary, now celebrated under my auspices, 
 so brilliant , as to efface the recollection of all that went be- 
 fore it. 
 
 Seldom , indeed, had Athens witnessed such a scene. The grounds 
 that formed the original site of the Garden had , from time to time, 
 received considerable additions ; and the whole extent was laid out 
 with that perfect taste , which knows how to wed Nature to Art , 
 without sacrificing her simplicity to the alliance. Walks , leading 
 through w ildernesses of shade and fragrance glades , opening , as 
 if to afford a play-ground for the sunshine temples . rising on the 
 very spots where imagination herself would have called them up , 
 and fountains and lakes , in alternate motion and repose , either 
 wantonly courting the verdure , or calmly sleeping in its embrace ; 
 such w as the variety of feature that diversified these fair gardens ; 
 and , animated as they were on this occasion , by all the living wit 
 and loveliness of Athens , it afforded a scene such as my own youth- 
 ful fancy, rich as it was then in images of luxury and beauty, could 
 hardly have anticipated. 
 
 The ceremonies of the day began with the very dawn , when , 
 according to the form of simpler and heller times . those amon? the
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 7 
 
 disciples who had apartments within the Garden , bore the image 
 of our Founder in procession from chamber to chamber, chaunting 
 verses in praise of what had long ceased to be objects of our imita- 
 tion his frugality and temperance. 
 
 Round a beautiful lake , in the centre of the garden , stood four 
 white Doric temples, in one of which was collected a library 
 containing all the flowers of Grecian literature ; while, in the re- 
 maining three, Conversation, the Song, and the Dance, held, 
 uninterrupted by each other, their respective riles. In the Library 
 stood busts of all the most illustrious Epicureans , both of Rome 
 and Greece Horace , Atticus, Pliny the elder, the poet Lucretius , 
 Lucian , and the biographer of the Philosophers , lately lost to us , 
 Diogenes Laerlius. There were also the portraits, in marble, of all 
 the eminent female votaries of the school Leontium and her fair 
 daughter Danae , Themista , Philaenis , and others. 
 
 It was here that , in my capacity of Heresiarch , on the morning 
 of the Festival , I received the felicitations of the day from some of 
 the fairest lips of Athens , and , in pronouncing the customary 
 oration to the memory of our Master (in which it w as usual to dwell 
 on the doctrines he inculcated) , endeavoured to attain that art, so 
 useful before such an andience, of diffusing over the gravest subjects 
 a charm , which secures them listeners even among the simplest and 
 most volatile. 
 
 Though study, as may easily be supposed, engrossed but little 
 of the mornings of the Garden , yet the lighter part of learning, 
 that portion of its attic honey, for which the bee is not obliged to 
 go very deep into the flower was zealously cultivated. Even here, 
 however, the student had to encounter distractions, which are, of 
 all others, least favourable to composure of thought; and, with 
 more than one of my fair disciples , there used to occur such 
 scenes as the following , which a poet of the Garden , taking his 
 picture from the life , described : 
 
 As o'er the lake, in evening's glow , 
 
 That temple threw its lengthening shade. 
 Upon the marble steps below 
 
 There sate a fair Corinthian maid, 
 Gracefully o'er some volume bending ; 
 
 While by her side the youthful Sage 
 Held back her ringlets , lest , descending , 
 
 They should o'ershadow all the page. 
 
 But it was for the evening of that day, that the richest of our 
 luxuries were reserved. Every part of the Garden was illuminated , 
 with the most skilful variety of lustre ; while over the Lake of the 
 Temples were scattered wreaths of flowers , through which boats ,
 
 8 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 filled with beautiful children, floated, as through a liquid par- 
 terre. 
 
 Between two of these boats a perpetual combat was maintained ; 
 their respective commanders , two blooming youths , being 
 habited to represent Eros and Anteros-, the former, the Celestial 
 Love of the Platonists , and the latter, that more earthly spirit, which 
 usurps the name of Love among the Epicureans. Throughout the 
 evening their conflict was carried on with various success ; the timid 
 distance at which Eros kept from his more lively antagonist being 
 his only safeguard against those darls of fire, with showers of which 
 the other continually assailed him , but which , luckily falling short 
 of their mark upon the lake , only scorched the flowers upon which 
 they fell , and were extinguished. 
 
 In another part of the gardens , on a wide verdant glade , lighted 
 only by the moon , an imitation of the torch-race of the Pana- 
 thenaea was performed, by young boys chosen for their fleet- 
 ness , and arrayed with wings , like Cupids ; while , not far off , 
 a group of seven nymphs, with each a star on her forehead, 
 represented the movements of the planetary choir, and embodied 
 the dream of Pythagoras into real motion and song. 
 
 At every turning some new enchantment broke upon the ear or 
 eye. Sometimes , from the depth of a grove , from which a fountain 
 at the same time issued , there came a strain of music , which 
 mingling with the murmur of the water, seemed like the voice 
 of the spirit that presided over its flow 5 while sometimes the 
 strain rose breathing from among flowers; and, again, would ap- 
 pear to come suddenly from under ground, as if the fool had just 
 touched some spring that set it in motion. 
 
 It seems strange that I should now dwell upon these minute 
 descriptions ; but every thing connected with that memorable night 
 even its long-repented follies must for ever live sacredly in my 
 memory. The festival concluded with a banquet, at which I, of 
 course , presided ; and , feeling myself to be the ascendant spirit of 
 the whole scene , gave life to all around me , and saw my own 
 happiness reflected in that of others. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE festival was over , the sounds of the song and dance had 
 ceased, and I was now left in those luxurious gardens, alone. 
 Though so ardent and active a votary of pleasure, I had, by nature, 
 a disposition full of melancholy ; an imagination that presented sad 
 thoughts, even in the midst of mirth and happiness, and threw 
 the shadow of the future over the gayest illusions of the present
 
 THE EPICUREAN 9 
 
 .Melancholy was, indeed, twin-born in my soul with Passion ; and. 
 not even in the fullest fervour of the latter, were they separated. 
 From the first moment that I was conscious of thought and feeling, 
 the same dark thread had run across the web; and images of 
 death and annihilation mingled themselves with the most smiling 
 scenes through which my career of enjoyment led me. My very 
 passion for pleasure but deepened these gloomy fancies. For, shut 
 out , as I was , by my creed, from a future life . and having no hope 
 beyond the narrow horizon of this, every minute of delight assumed 
 a mournful preciousness in my eyes, and pleasure, like the liower 
 of the cemetery, grew but more luxuriant from the neighbourhood 
 of death. 
 
 This very night my triumph , my happiness , had seemed 
 complete. I had been the presiding genius of that voluptuous scene. 
 Both my ambition and my love of pleasure had drunk deep of the 
 cup for which they thirsted. Looked up to by the learned, and 
 loved by the beautiful and the young, I had seen, in every eye 
 that met mine , either the acknowledgment of triumphs already 
 won . or the promise of others , still brighter, that awaited me. Yet, 
 even in the midst of all this , the same dark thoughts had presented 
 themselves ; the perishableness of myself and all around me every 
 instant recurred to my mind. Those hands I had pressed those 
 eyiN. in which I had seen sparkling a spirit of light and life that 
 should never die those voices , that had talked of eternal love 
 all , all , I felt, were but a mockery of the moment and would leave 
 nothing eternal but the silence of their dust ! 
 
 Ob. were it not for this sad voice, 
 
 Stealing amid our mirth to say. 
 That all in which \ve most rejoice , 
 
 Ere night may be the earth-worm's prey; 
 But for this bitter only this 
 Full as the world is brimm'd with bliss, 
 And capable as feels my soul 
 Of draining to its depth the whole , 
 1 should turn earth to heaven , and be , 
 If bliss makes gods , a deity ! 
 
 Such was the description I gave of my own feelings , in one of 
 those wild, passionate songs . to which this ferment of my spirits, 
 between mirth and melancholy, gave birth. 
 
 Seldom had my heart more fully abandoned itself to such vague 
 sadness than at the present moment, when, as I paced thoughtfully 
 among the fading lights and flowers of the banquet . the echo of my 
 fwn step was all that sounded, where so many gay forms had lately 
 heen revelling. The moon was still up . Hie morning had not \, r
 
 10 . THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 glimmered, and the calm glories of night still rested on all around. 
 Unconscious whither my pathway led , I wandered along , till I , at 
 length, found myself before that fair statue of Venus, with which 
 the chisel of Alcamenes had embellished our Garden ; that image 
 of deified woman , the only idol to which I had ever bent the knee. 
 Leaning against the pedestal , I raised my eyes to heaven , and 
 fixing them sadly and intently on the ever-burning stars , as if I 
 sought to read the mournful secret in their light , asked, wherefore 
 was it that Man alone must perish , while they, less wonderful , less 
 glorious than he , lived on in light unchangeable and for ever! 
 " Oh, that there were some spell, some talisman," I exclaimed, 
 " to make the spirit within us deathless as those stars , and open to 
 its desires a career like theirs , burning and boundless throughout 
 all time !" 
 
 While I gave myself up to this train of thought that lassitude 
 which earthly pleasure , however sweet , leaves behind , as if to 
 show how earthly it is, came drowsily over me, and I sunk at the 
 base of the statue to sleep. 
 
 Even in sleep , however, my fancy was still busy ; and a dream , 
 so vivid as to leave behind it the impression of reality, thus passed 
 through my mind. I thought myself transported to a wide desert 
 plain , where nothing seemed to breathe , or move , or live. The 
 very sky above it looked pale and extinct, giving the idea, not of 
 darkness, but of light that had died ; and , had that region been the 
 remains of some older world, left broken up and sunless , it could 
 not have looked more dead and desolate. The only thing that be- 
 spoke life, in this melancholy waste, was a small moving spark, that 
 at first glimmered in the distance, but, at length, slowly approached 
 the spot where I stood. As it drew nearer, I could perceive that 
 its feeble gleam was from a taper in the hand of a pale venerable 
 man, who now stood, like a messenger from the grave, before 
 me. After a few moments of awful silence, during which he looked 
 at me wilh a sadness that thrilled my very soul , he said , " Thou, 
 who seekest eternal life, go unto the shores of the dark Nile- 
 go unto the shores of the dark Nile , and thou wilt find the eternal 
 life thou seekest !" 
 
 No sooner had he said these words than the death-like hue of his 
 cheek brightened into a smile of more than human promise. The 
 small torch thai he held sent forth a radiance, by which suddenly 
 llic whole surface of the desert was illuminated, even to the far 
 horizon's edge , along whose line were now seen gardens , pa- 
 laces , and spires , all bright and golden , like the architecture 
 of Ihe clouds at sunset. Sweet music , too , was heard every where .
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 11 
 
 floating ground , and , from all sides , such varieties of splendour 
 poured that , with the excess both of harmony and of light , I woke. 
 That infidels should be superstitious is an anomaly neither. un- 
 usual nor strange. A belief in superhuman agency seems natural 
 and necessary to the mind ; and , if not suffered to flow in the 
 obvious channels , it will find a vent in some other. Hence , many 
 who have doubted the existence of a God , have yet implicitly 
 placed themselves under the patronage of Fate or the stars. Much 
 the same inconsistency I was conscious of in my own feelings. 
 Though rejecting all belief in a Divine Providence , I had yet a 
 fa ilh in dreams, that all my philosophy could not conquer. Nor 
 was experience wanting to confirm me in my delusion ; for, by 
 some of those accidental coincidences , which make the fortune 
 of soothsayers and prophets, dreams , more than once, had been 
 to me 
 
 Oracles, truer far than oak. 
 Or dove , or tripod , ever spoke. 
 
 It was not wonderful , therefore , that the vision of that night , 
 touching, as it did, a chord so ready to vibrate, should have 
 affected me with more than ordinary power, and sunk deeper into 
 my memory with every effort I made to forget it. In vain did I 
 mock at rny own weakness ; such self-derision is seldom sincere. 
 In vain did I pursue my accustomed pleasures. Their zest was , 
 as usual , for ever new ; but still came the saddening consciousness 
 of mortality, and , with it , the recollection of this visionary pro- 
 mise, to which my fancy, in defiance of my reason, still clung. 
 
 Sometimes indulging in reveries, that were little else than a 
 continuation of dreams, I even contemplated the possible existence 
 of some secret , by which youth might be , if not perpetuated , at 
 least prolonged , and that dreadful vicinity of death , within whose 
 circle love pines and pleasure sickens , might be for a while 
 averted. " Who knows," I would ask, u but that in Egypt, that 
 land of wonders , where Mystery hath yet unfolded but half her 
 treasures , where so many dark secrets of the antediluvian world 
 still remain , undeciphered , upon the pillars of Seth , who knows 
 but some charm , some amulet , may lie hid , whose discovery, 
 as this phantom hath promised , but waits my coming some 
 compound of the same pure atoms , that scintillate in the eternal 
 slars , and whose infusion into the frame of man might make him, 
 too, fadeless and immortal !" 
 
 Thus did I fondly speculate , in those rambling moods , when 
 (he life of excitement which I led , acting upon a warm heart and 
 vivid latic\. produced an intoxication of spirit, during which I
 
 12 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 was not wholly myself. This bewilderment , too, was not a little 
 increased by the constant struggle between my own natural feelings, 
 and .the cold , mortal creed of my sect, In endeavouring to escape 
 from whose deadening bondage I but broke loose into the realms of 
 romance and fantasy. 
 
 Even however, in my calmest and soberest moments, that strange 
 vision perpetually haunted me. In vain were all my efforts to chase 
 it from my mind ; and the deliberate conclusion to which I came 
 at last , was , that without , at least , a visit to Egypt , I could 
 not rest, nor, till convinced of my folly by disappointment, 
 be reasonable. I , therefore , announced without delay to my asso- 
 ciates of the Garden , the intention which I had formed to pay 
 a visit to the land of Pyramids. To none of them did I dare to 
 confess the vague , visionary impulse that actuated me. Knowledge 
 was the object that I alleged , while Pleasure was that for which 
 they gave me credit. The interests of the School , it was ap- 
 prehended , would suffer by my absence ; and there were some 
 tenderer ties , which had still more to fear from separation . But 
 for the former inconvenience a temporary remedy was provided , 
 while the latter a skilful distribution of vows and sighs alleviated. 
 Being furnished with recommendatory letters to all parts of Egypt, 
 in the summer of the year 257, A. D. , I set sail fo r Alexandria. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 To one , who extracted such sweets from every moment on land, 
 a sea-voyage , however smooth and favourable , appeared the least 
 agreeable mode of losing time that could be devised. Often did 
 my imagination , in passing some isle of those seas , people it 
 with fair forms and kind hearts , to whom most willingly, if I 
 might , would I have paused to pay homage. But the wind blew 
 direct towards the land of Mystery ; and still more , I heard a voice 
 within me , whispering for ever " On." 
 
 As we approached the coast of Egypt, our course became less 
 prosperous ; and we had a specimen of the benevolence of the 
 divinities of the Nile, in the shape of a storm, or rather whirlwind, 
 which had nearly sunk our vessel , and which , the Egyptians on 
 board said , was the work of their God , Typhon. After a day and 
 night of danger, during which we were driven out of our course 
 to the eastward , some benigner influence prevailed above ; and , 
 at lenglh, as the morning freshly broke, we saw the beautiful city 
 of Alexandria rising from the sea , with its Palace of Kings . iis 
 portico of four hundred columns . and (lie fair Pillar of Pillars , 
 lowering up to heaven in the midst.
 
 1HK EPICUREAN. 13 
 
 After passing in review this splendid vision, we shot rnpidU 
 round the Rock of Pharos, and, in a few minutes, found oursehcs 
 in the harbour of Eunoslus. The sun had risen , but the light on 
 the Great Tower of the Rock was still burning: and there was a 
 languor in the first waking movements of that voluptuous eih 
 whose houses and temples lay shining in silence round the harbour 
 that sufficiently attested the festivities of the preceding nijjht. 
 
 We were soon landed on the quay : and . as 1 walked , through 
 a line of palaces and shrines . up the street which leads from the 
 sea to the Gate ofCanopus, fresh as I was from the contemplation 
 of my own lovely Athens, I felt a glow of admiration at the scene 
 around me, which its novelty, even more than its magnificence, 
 inspired. Nor were the luxuries and delights , which such a city 
 promised , among the least of the considerations on which my 
 fancy, at that moment, dwelt. On the contrary, every thing around 
 seemed prophetic of future pleasure. The very forms of the ar- 
 chitecture , to my Epicurean imagination , appeared to call up 
 images of living grace ; and even the dim seclusion of the temples 
 and groves spoke only of tender mysteries to my mind. As the 
 whole bright scene grew animated around me, I felt that though 
 Egypt might not enable me to lengthen life , she could leach the 
 next best art, that of multiplying its enjoyments. 
 
 The population of Alexandria . at this period , consisted of the 
 most motley miscellany of nations , religions , and sects , that had 
 ever been brought together in one city. Beside the school of the 
 Grecian Platonist was seen the oratory of the cabalistic Jew; 
 while the church of the Christian stood , undisturbed , over the 
 crypts of the Egyptian Hierophant. Here , the adorer of Fire , 
 from the east , laughed at the superstitions of the worshipper of 
 cats , from the west. Here Christianity, too, unluckily, had learned 
 to emulate the vagaries of Paganism ; and while , on one side , her 
 Ophite professor w as seen kneeling dow n gravely before his serpent, 
 on the other, a Nicosian was, as gravely, contending that there was 
 no chance of salvation out of the pale of the Greek alphabet. Still 
 worse , the uncharitableness of Christian schism was already dis- 
 tinguishing itself with equal vigour; and I heard of nothing, on my 
 arrival, but the rancour and hate, with which the Greek and Latin 
 churchmen persecuted each other, because , forsooth , the one 
 fasted on the seventh day of the week , and the others fasted upon 
 the fourth and sixth ! 
 
 To none of those religions or sects , however, except for pur- 
 poses of ridicule, did I pay much attention. I was now in the most 
 luxurious city of the universe, and gave way, without reserve, to 
 the seductions that surrounded me. My reputation, as a philosopher
 
 14 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 and a man of pleasure . had preceded me -. and Alexandria , (In- 
 second Athens of Ihe world, welcomed me as her own. My cele- 
 brity, indeed , was as a talisman . that opened hearts and doors at 
 my approach. The usual noviciate of acquaintance was dispensed 
 with in my favour, and not only intimacies, but loves and friendships, 
 ripened in my path , as rapidly as vegetation springs up where 
 the Nile has flowed. The dark beauty of the Egyptian women had 
 a novelty in my eyes that enhanced its other charms ; and that hue 
 of the sun on their rounded cheeks was but an earnest of the 
 ardour he had kindled in their hearts 
 
 The imbrowning of the fruit , that tells 
 
 How rich within the soul of sweetness dwells. 
 
 Some weeks rolled on in such perpetual and ever-changing 
 pleasures , that even the melancholy voice in my heart , though it 
 still spoke, was but seldom listened to, and soon died away in the 
 sound of the siren songs that surrounded me. At length , however, 
 as the novelty of these scenes wore off , the same gloomy bodings 
 began to mingle with all my joys; and an incident that occurred, 
 during one of my gayest revels , conduced still more to deepen their 
 gloom. 
 
 The celebration of the annual festival of Serapis took place during 
 my stay, and I was, more than once, induced to mingle with the 
 gay multitudes, that crowded to his shrine at Canopus on the occasion. 
 Day and night, while this festival lasted, the canal, which led from 
 Alexandria to Canopus , was covered with boats full of pilgrims of 
 both sexes , all hastening to avail themselves of this pious license , 
 which lent the zest of a religious sanction to pleasure , and gave a 
 holiday to the passions of earth, in honour of heaven. 
 
 I was returning, one lovely night, to Alexandria. The north wind, 
 that welcome visitor, freshened the air, while the banks , on either 
 side, sent forth , from groves of orange and henna, the most delicious 
 odours. As I had left all the crowd behind me at Canopus , there 
 was not a boat to be seen on the canal but my own ; and I was just 
 yielding to the thoughts which solitude at such an hour inspires , 
 when my reveries were broken by the sound of some female voices, 
 coming minglfid with laughter and screams , from the garden of a 
 pavilion , that stood , brilliantly illuminated , upon the bank of the 
 canal. 
 
 On rowing nearer, I perceived that both the mirth and the alarm 
 had been caused by the efforts of some playful girls to reach a hedge 
 of jasmin which grew near the water, and in bending towards which 
 they had nearly fallen into the stream. Hastening to proffer my 
 assistance, I soon recognized the voice of one of my fair Alexandrian
 
 I UK 1 I'iCl It I- \Y 
 
 friends, and. springing on the bank, was surrounded by Ilic \\liolr 
 group, who insisted on my joining their parly in Ihe pavilion. ;tnd 
 flinging Ihe lendrils of jasmin, which they had just plucked, around 
 me, led me, no unwilling captive, to the banquet-room. 
 
 I found here an assemblage of the very flower of Alexandrian 
 society. The unexpectedness of the meeting gave it an additional 
 zest on both sides-, and seldom had I felt more enlivened myself, or 
 contributed more successfully to circulate life among others. 
 
 Among the company were some Greek women . who, according 
 lo the fashion of their country, wore veils ; but, as usual rather, to 
 set off than conceal their beauty, some gleams of which were conti- 
 nually escaping from under the cloud. There was, however, one 
 female , who particularly altracled my altention . on whose head 
 was a chaplet of dark-coloured flowers, and who sat veiled and 
 silent during the whole of the banquet. She look no share, I observed, 
 in what was passing around : the viands and the wine w r ent fay her 
 untouched , nor did a word that was spoken seem addressed to her 
 ear. This abstraction from a scene so sparkling with gaiety, though 
 apparently unnoticed by any one but myself, struck me as mysterious 
 and strange. I inquired of my fair neighbour the cause of it, but 
 she looked grave and was silent. 
 
 In the mean time, the lyre and the cup went round ; and a young 
 maid from Athens, as if inspired by the presence of her countryman, 
 took her lute , and sung lo it some of the songs of Greece, with a 
 feeling that bore me back to the banks of the Ilissus, and, even in 
 the bosom of present pleasure , drew a sigh from my heart for that 
 which had passed away. It was daybreak ere our delighted parly 
 rose, and unwillingly reembarked to return to the city. 
 
 Scarcely were we afloat, when it was discovered that the lute of 
 Ihe young Athenian had been left behind; and, with my heart still 
 full of its sweet sounds, I most readily sprung on shore to seek it. 
 I hastened to the banquet-room . which was now dim and solitary . 
 except that there, lo my astonishment, still sat that silent figure, 
 which had awakened my curiosity so strongly during the night. A 
 vague feeling of awe came over me, as I now slowly approached it. 
 There was no motion , no sound of breathing in that form ; not a 
 leaf of the dark chaplet on its brow stirred. By the light of a dying 
 lamp which stood before the figure, I raised, with a hesitating hand, 
 the veil, and saw what my fancy had already anticipated that (he 
 shape underneath was lifeless , was a skeleton ! Startled and 
 shocked , I hurried back w ith the lute to the boat , and w as almost 
 as silent as that shape for the remainder of the voyage. 
 
 This custom among Ihe Egyptians of placing a mummy, or 
 skeleton, at the banquet-table, had been for some time disused.
 
 1G THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 except at particular ceremonies; and, even on such occasions, it 
 had been the practice of the luxurious Alexandrians to disguise 
 this memorial of mortality in the manner just described. But to 
 me , who was wholly unprepared for such a spectacle , it gave a 
 shock from which my imagination did not speedily recover. This 
 silent and ghastly witness of mirth seemed to embody, as it were . 
 the shadow in my own heart. The features of the grave were now 
 stamped on the idea that haunted me, and this picture of what 
 I was to be mingled itself with the sunniest aspect of what I was. 
 
 The memory of the dream now recurred to me more lively than 
 ever. The bright assuring smile of that venerable Spirit , and his 
 words, " Go to the shores of the dark Nile, and thou wilt find the 
 eternal life thou seekest," were for ever before my mind. But as 
 yet, alas, I had done nothing towards realising this splendid pro- 
 mise. Alexandria was not Egypt; the very soil on which it stood 
 was not in existence, when Thebes and Memphis already counted 
 ages of glory. 
 
 " It is beneath the Pyramids of Memphis, 1 ' I exclaimed, " or 
 in the mystic Halls of the Labyrinth , that I must seek those holy 
 arcana of science , of which the antediluvian world has made Egypt 
 its heir, and among which blest thought I the key to eternal life 
 may lie." 
 
 Having formed my determination, I took leave of my many 
 Alexandrian friends , and departed for Memphis. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EGYPT was the country, of all others , from that mixture of the 
 melancholy and the voluptuous, which marked the character of 
 her people, her religion, and her scenery, to affect deeply a tem- 
 perament and fancy like mine, and keep tremblingly alive the 
 sensibilities of both. Wherever I turned , I sa\y the desert and the 
 garden, mingling their bloom and desolation together. I saw the 
 lovp-bower and the tomb standing side by side , and pleasure and 
 death keeping hourly watch upon each other. In the very luxury 
 of the climate there was the same saddening influence. The mono- 
 tonous splendour of the days, the solemn radiance of the nights 
 all tended to cherish that ardent melancholy, the offspring of pas- 
 sion and of thought, which had so long been the inmate of my soul. 
 
 When I sailed from Alexandria , the inundation of the Nile was 
 at its full. The whole valley of 'Egypt lay covered by its flood and , 
 as I saw around me, in the light of the setting sun, shrines, pa- 
 laces, and monuments, encircled by the waters, I could almost
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 11 
 
 fancy that I beheld the sinking island of Atalantis, on the last 
 evening its temples were visible above the wave. Such varieties , 
 too, of animation as presented themselves on every side ! 
 
 While , far as sight can reach , beneath as clear 
 And blue a heaven as ever bless'd this sphere, 
 Gardens , and pillar'd streets , and porphyry domes 1 , 
 And high-built temples, fit to be the homes 
 Of mighty gods, and pyramids , whose hour 
 Outlasts all time , above the waters tower ! 
 
 Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy, that make 
 One theatre of this vast , peopled lake , 
 Where all that love, religion, commerce, gives 
 Of life and motion , ever moves and lives. 
 Here , up the steps of temples , from the wave 
 Ascending , in procession slow and grave , 
 
 Priests, in white garments, go, with sacred wands , 
 
 And silver cymbals gleaming in their hands : 
 While , there , rich barks fresh from those sunny tracts 
 Far off, beyond the sounding cataracts 
 Glide with their precious lading to the sea , 
 NPlumes of bright birds , rhinoceros' ivory, 
 Gems from the isle of Meroe, and those grains 
 Of gold, wash'd down by Abyssinian rains. 
 
 Here , where the waters wind into a bay 
 
 Shadowy and cool, some pilgrims, on their way 
 
 To Sa'is or Bubastus, among beds 
 
 OF lotus-flowers , that close above their heads, 
 
 Push their light barks , and hid, as in a bower, 
 
 Sing , talk, or sleep away the snltry 1iour ; 
 
 While haply, not far off, beneath a bank 
 
 Of blossoming acacias, many a prank 
 
 Is play'd in the cool current , by a train 
 
 Of laughing nymphs , lovely as she whose chain 
 
 Around two conquerors of the world was cast* 
 
 But , for a third too feeble , broke at last ! 
 
 Enchanted with the whole scene, I lingered on my voyage, 
 visiting all those luxurious and venerable places, whose names have 
 been consecrated by the wonder of ages. At Sais I was present du- 
 ring the Festival of Lamps , and read , by the blaze of innumerable 
 lights, those sublime words on the temple of Neitha : " I am all 
 that has been, that is, and that will be, and no man hath ever lifted 
 my veil." I wandered among the prostrate obelisks of Heliopolis , 
 and saw, not without a sigh, the sun smiling over her ruins, as 
 if in mockery of the mass of perishable grandeur, thai had once 
 called itself, in its pride, "The City of the Sun. 1 ' But to the Isle 
 of the Golden Venus was my fondest pilgrimage ; and as I ex- 
 plored its shades , where bowers are the only temples , I fell how 
 
 2
 
 18 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 far more fit to form the shrine of a Deity are the ever-living stems 
 of the garden and the grove, than the most precious columns that 
 the inanimated quarry can supply. 
 
 Every where new pleasures, new interests awaited me ; and though 
 Melancholy, as usual , stood always near, her shadow fell but half- 
 way over my vagrant path , and left the rest more welcomely bril- 
 liant from the contrast. To relate my various adventures, during 
 this short voyage, would only detain me from events, far, far more 
 worthy of record. Amidst such endless variety of attractions , the 
 great object of my journey w as forgotten , the mysteries of this 
 land of the sun were , to me , as much mysteries as ever, and I had 
 as yet been initiated in nothing but its pleasures. 
 
 It was not till that evening , w hen I first stood before the Pyra- 
 mids of Memphis , and saw them towering aloft , like the watch- 
 towers of Time, from whose summit, when he expires, he will 
 look his last, it was not till this moment that the great secret, of 
 which I had dreamed, again rose, in all its inscrutable darkness, 
 upon my thoughts. There was a solemnity in the sunshine that 
 rested upon those monuments a stillness , as of reverence , in the 
 air around them , that stole , like the music of past times , into my 
 heart. I thought what myriads of the wise , the beautiful , and the 
 brave, had sunk into dust, since earth first beheld those w r onders; 
 and in the sadness of my soul , I exclaimed, " Must man alone, 
 then , perish ? must minds and hearts be annihilated , while pyra- 
 mids endure ? Death , Death, even on these everlasting tablets, 
 the only approach to immortality that kings themselves could pur- 
 chase , thou hast written our doom , saying , awfully and intelli- 
 gibly, 'There is, for man , no eternal mansion but the tomb! 1 ' 
 
 My heart sunk at the thought ; and , for the moment , I yielded to 
 that desolate feeling which overspreads the soul that hath no light 
 from the future. But again the buoyancy of my nature prevailed, 
 and again , the willing dupe of vain dreams , I deluded myself into 
 the belief of all that I most wished , with that happy facility which 
 makes imagination stand in place of happiness. "Yes," I cried, 
 " immortality must be within man's reach; and., as wisdom alone 
 i& worthy of such a blessing, to the wise alone must the secret have 
 been revealed. Deep, it is said, under yonder pyramid , has for 
 ages lain concealed the Table of Emerald, on which the Thrice- 
 Great Hermes engraved, before the flood, the secret of Alchemy, 
 that gives gold at will. Why may not the mightier, the more god- 
 like secret , that gives life at will, be recorded there also? It was by 
 the power of gold, of endless gold, that the kings, who repose in 
 those massy structures , scooped earth to the centre , and raised 
 quarries into the air to provide themselves with tombs that] might
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 1 
 
 ou Island the world. Who can tell but (hat the gift of immortality 
 was also theirs? who knows but that they themselves, triumphant 
 over decay, still live those mansions, which we call tombs, being 
 rich and everlasting palaces , within whose depths , concealed from 
 this withering world, they still wander, with the few who are 
 sharers of their gift , through a sunless , but illuminated elysium of 
 their own? Else, wherefore those structures? wherefore that sub- 
 terraneous realm , by which the whole valley of Egypt is under- 
 mined? Why, else , those labyrinths, which none of earth hath ever 
 beheld which none of heaven , except that God , with the finger 
 on his hushed lip, hath trodden?" 
 
 While I indulged in these dreams , the sun , half sunk beneath 
 the horizon , was taking , calmly and gloriously, his leave of the 
 Pyramids, as he had done, evening after evening, for ages, till 
 they had become familiar to him as the earth itself. On the side 
 turned to his ray they now presented a front of dazzling white- 
 ness, while, on the other, their great shadows, lengthening to 
 the eastward, looked like the first steps of Night, hastening to en- 
 velop the hills of Araby in her shade. 
 
 No sooner had the last gleam of the sun disappeared , than , on 
 every house-top in Memphis , gay gilded banners were seen waving 
 aloft, to proclaim his setting, while a full burst of harmony 
 pealed from all the temples along the shores. 
 
 Startled from my musing by these sounds , I at once recollected , 
 that, on that very evening, the great festival of the moon was to be 
 celebrated. On a little island , half-way over between the gardens of 
 Memphis and the eastern shore , stood the temple of that goddess , 
 
 Whose beams 
 
 Bring the sweet time of night-flowers and dreams. 
 Not the cold Dian of the North . who chains 
 la vestal ice the current of young veins; 
 But she who haunts the gay Bubastian grove, 
 And owns she sees , from her bright heaven , above , 
 Nothing on earth to match that heaven , but love! 
 
 Thus did I exclaim , in the words of one of their own Egyptian 
 poets, as, anticipating the various delights of the festival, I cast 
 away from my mind all gloomy thoughts, and, hastening to my 
 little bark, in which I now lived, like a Nile-bird, on the waters, 
 steered my course to the island-temple of the Moon.
 
 JO THE EPICURE AIM. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE rising of the moon, slow and majestic, as if conscious of the; 
 honours that awaited her upon earth, was welcomed with a loud 
 acclaim from every eminence , where multitudes stood watching for 
 her first light. And seldom had she risen upon a scene more beauti- 
 ful. Memphis, still grand, though no longer the unrivalled 
 Memphis, that had home away from Thebes the crown of supremacy , 
 and worn il undisputed through so many centuries , now, softened 
 by the moonlight that harmonised with her decline , shone forth 
 among her lakes , her pyramids , and her shrines , like a dream of 
 glory that was soon to pass away. Ruin , even now. was but too 
 visible around her. The sands of the Libyan desert gained upon her 
 like a sea ; and , among solitary columns and sphinxes , already 
 half sunk from sight, Time seemed to stand waiting, till all, that 
 now flourished around , should fall beneath his desolating hand . 
 like the rest. 
 
 On the waters all was life and gaiety. As far as eye could reach , 
 the lights of innumerable boats were seen, studding, like rubies , the 
 surface of the stream. Vessels of all kinds, from the light coracle, 
 built for shooting down the cataracts, to the large yacht that glides 
 to the sound of flutes, all were afloat for this sacred festival , filled 
 with crowds of the young and the gay, not only from Memphis and 
 Babylon , but from cities still farther removed from the scene. 
 
 As I approached the island , I could see , glittering through the 
 trees on the bank , the lamps of the pilgrims hastening to the cere- 
 mony. Landing in the direction which those lights pointed out, I 
 soon joined the crowd ; and , passing through a long alley of sphinxes, 
 whose spangling marble shone out from the dark sycamores around 
 them , in a short time reached the grand vestibule of the temple , 
 where I found the ceremonies of the evening already commenced. 
 In this vast hall , which was surrounded by a double range of 
 columns , and lay open over-head to the stars of heaven , I saw a 
 group of young maidens, moving in a sort of measured step, be- 
 tween walk and dance , round a small shrine , upon which stood one 
 of those sacred birds, that, on account of the variegated colour of 
 their wings , are dedicated to the moon: The vestibule was dimly 
 lighted, there being but one lamp of naphtha on each of the great 
 pillars that encircled it. But, having taken my station beside one of 
 those pillars , I had a distinct view of the young dancers , as in suc- 
 cession they passed me. 
 
 Their long, graceful drapery was as while as snow ; and each 
 wore loosely, beneath, the rounded bosom , a dark-blue /.one , or
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 31 
 
 bandelet, studded . like the skies at midnight, with little silver stars. 
 Through their dark lucks was wreathed the white lily of the Nile, 
 that flower being accounted as welcome to the moon , as the golden 
 blossoms ol' the bean-flower are to the sun. As they passed under 
 the lamp, a gleam of light flashed from their bosoms , which , I 
 could perceive, was the reflection of a small mirror, that, in the 
 manner of the women of the East, each wore beneath her left 
 shoulder. 
 
 There was no music to regulate their steps ; but , as they grace- 
 fully went round the bird on the shrine , some , by the beat of the 
 caslanet, some, by the shrill ring of the sistrum , which they held 
 uplifted in the attitude of (heir own divine Isis, harmoniously timed 
 the cadence of their feet ; while others , at every step , shook a 
 small chain of silver, whose sound , mingling with those of the cas- 
 lanets and sislrums, produced a wild , but not an unpleasing har- 
 mony. 
 
 They seemed all lovely } but there was one whose face the light 
 had not yet reached, so downcast she held it, who attracted, and, 
 at length , rivelted all my attention. 1 knew not why, but there was 
 a something in those half-seen features, a charm in the very 
 shadow, that hung over their imagined beauty, which took me 
 more than all the out-shining loveliness of her companions. So 
 enchained was my fancy by this coy mystery, that her alone , of all 
 the group, could I either see or think of her alone I watched , as , 
 with the same downcast brow, she glided round the altar, gently 
 and aerially, as if her presence , like that of a spirit , was something 
 to be felt , not seen. 
 
 Suddenly, while 1 gazed, the loud crash of a thousand cymbals was 
 heard ; the massy gates of the Temple flew r open, as if by magic , 
 and a flood of radiance from the illuminated aisle filled the whole 
 vestibule : while , at the same instant , as if the light and the sounds 
 were born together, a peal of rich harmony came mingling with the 
 radiance. 
 
 It was then , by that light , which shone full upon the young 
 maiden's features , as , starting at the blaze , she raised her eyes to 
 the portal, and, as suddenly, let fall their lids again, it was then 
 1 behold, what even my own ardent imagination, in its most vivid 
 dreams of beauty, had never pictured. Not Psyche herself, when 
 pausing on the threshold of heaven , while its first glories fell on 
 her dazzled lids , could have looked more beautiful , or blushed 
 with a more innocent sharne. Often as I had fell the power of looks, 
 none had ever entered into my soul so far. It \\a> a \\c\\ reeling a 
 new sense coming as suddenly as that radiance into the vestibule , 
 and. at once, filling my whole being ; and had that vision but
 
 ?i THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 lingered another moment before my eyes, I should have wholly 
 forgotten who I was and where, and thrown myself, in prostrate 
 adoration , at her feet. 
 
 But scarcely had that gush of harmony been heard , when the 
 sacred bird, which had, till now, stood motionless as an image, 
 expanded his w ings , and flew into the Temple , while his graceful 
 young w orshippers , with a fleetness like his own , followed , and 
 she , who had left a dream in my heart never to be forgotten , va- 
 nished with the rest. As she went rapidly past the pillar against which 
 I leaned, the ivy that encircled it caught in her drapery, and dis- 
 engaged some ornament which fell to the ground. It was the small 
 mirror which I had seen shining on her bosom. Hastily and tremu- 
 lously I picked it up, and hurried to restore it $ but she was already 
 lost to my eyes in the crowd. 
 
 In vain I tried to follow -, the aisles were already filled , and 
 numbers of eager pilgrims pressed towards the portal. But the 
 servants of the Temple prevented all further entrance , and still , as 
 I presented myself, their white wands barred the way. Perplexed 
 and irritated amid that crowd of faces , regarding all as enemies 
 that impeded my progress, I stood on tiptoe , gazing into the busy 
 aisles , and with a heart beating, as I caught , from time to time , a 
 glimpse of some spangled zone , or lotus-wreath , w hich led me to 
 fancy that I had discovered the object of my search. But it was all 
 in vain 5 in every direction , files of sacred nymphs were moving, 
 but no where could I see her whom alone I sought. 
 
 In this state of breathless agitation did I stand for some time, 
 bewildered with the confusion of faces and lights , as well as with 
 the clouds of incense that rolled around me , till , fevered and 
 impatient , I could endure it no longer. Forcing my way out of the 
 vestibule into the cool air, I hurried back through the alley of 
 sphinxes to the shore , and flung myself into my boat. 
 
 There is , to the north of Memphis , a solitary lake ( which , at 
 this season of the year, mingles with the rest of the waters), upon 
 whose shores stands the Necropolis , or City of the Dead a place 
 of melancholy grandeur, covered over with shrines and pyramids, 
 where many a kingly head , proud even in death , has for ages 
 awaited the resurrection of its glories. Through a range of sepul- 
 chral grots underneath , the humbler denizens of the tomb are de- 
 posited, looking out on each successive generation that visits 
 them , with the same face and features they wore centuries ago. 
 Every plant and tree that is consecrated to death , from the asphodel- 
 flower to the mystic plantain , lends its sweetness or shadow to this 
 place of tombs ; and the only noise that disturbs its eternal calm , is
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 53 
 
 Ihe low humming sound of the priests at prayer, when a new inha- 
 bitant is added to the silent city. 
 
 It was towards this place of death that, in a mood of mind, as 
 usual, half bright, half gloomy, I now, almost unconsciously, 
 directed my bark. The form of the young Priestess was continually 
 before me. That once bright look of hers , the very memory of which 
 was worth all the actual smiles of others, never left my mind. Ab- 
 sorbed in such thoughts , I rowed on , scarce knowing whither I 
 went, till, startled by finding myself within the shadow of the City 
 of the Dead , I looked up, and saw, rising in succession before me , 
 pyramid beyond pyramid, each towering more loftily than the other, 
 while all were out-topped in grandeur by one , upon whose sum- 
 mit the moon seemed to rest , as on a pedestal. 
 
 Drawing near to the shore, which was sufficiently elevated to 
 raise this city of monuments above the level of the inundation , 1 
 lifted my oar, and let the boat rock idly on the water, while my 
 thoughts, left equally without direction, fluctuated as idly. How 
 various and vague were the dreams that then passed through my 
 mind that bright vision of the temple mingling itself with all ! 
 Sometimes she stood before me, like an aerial spirit , as pure as if 
 that element of music and light , into which 1 had seen her vanish , 
 was her own dwelling. Sometimes , animated with passion , and 
 kindling into a creature of earth , she seemed to lean towards me 
 with looks of tenderness , which it were worth worlds, but for one 
 instant , to inspire ; and again as the dark fancies , that ever haunted 
 me, recurred I saw her cold, parched , and blackening, amid the 
 gloom of those eternal sepulchres before me ! 
 
 Turning away, with a shudder, from the cemetery at this thought, 
 I heard the sound of an oar plying swiftly through the water, and , 
 in a few moments , saw, shooting past me towards the shore , a 
 small boat in which sat two female figures , muffled up and veiled. 
 Having landed them not far from the spot where I lay, concealed 
 by the shadow of a monument on the bank, the boat again de- 
 parted, with the same fleetness, over the flood. 
 
 Never had the prospect of an adventure come more welcome than 
 at this moment, when my fancy was weaving such chains for my 
 heart , as threatened a bondage , of all others , the most difficult to 
 break. To become enamoured thus of a creature of my own ima- 
 gination , was the worst , because the most lasting , of follies. Rea- 
 lity alone gives a chance of dissolving such spells , and the idol I was 
 now creating to myself must for ever remain ideal. Any pursuit , 
 therefore, that seemed likely to divert me from such thoughts to 
 bring back my imagination to earth and reality, from the vague
 
 24 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 region in which it was wandering , was a relief too seasonable not 
 to be welcomed with eagerness. 
 
 I had watched the course which the two figures took, and , having 
 hastily fastened my boat to the bank , stepped gently on shore , and , 
 at a little distance , followed them. The windings through which 
 they led were intricate ; but , by the bright light of the moon , I 
 was enabled to keep their forms in view, as, with rapid step, they 
 glided among the monuments. At length , in the shade of a small 
 pyramid , whose peak barely surmounted the plane-trees that grew 
 nigh , they vanished from my sight. I hastened to the spot , but there 
 was not a sign of life around ; and had my creed extended to another 
 world , I might have fancied that these forms were spirits , sent from 
 thence to mock me, so instantaneously they disappeared. I searched 
 through the neighbouring grove, but all there was still as death. At 
 length , in examining one of the sides of the pyramid, which, for a 
 few feet from the ground , was furnished with steps , I found , mid- 
 way between peak and base , a part of the surface , which , though 
 presenting an appearence of smoothness to the eye, gave to the touch, 
 I thought , indications of a concealed opening. 
 
 After a variety of efforts and experiments , I , at last , more by 
 accident than skill, pressed the spring that commanded this myste- 
 rious aperture. In an instant the portal slid aside, and disclosed a 
 narrow stair-way within , the two or three first steps of which were 
 discernible by the moonlight , while the rest were lost in utter dark- 
 ness. Though it was difficult to conceive that the persons whom I 
 had followed would have ventured to pass through this gloomy 
 opening , yet to account for their disappearance otherwise was still 
 more difficult. At all events, my curiosity was now too eager in 
 the cause to relinquish it; the spirit of adventure, once raised, 
 could not be so easily laid. Accordingly, having sent up a gay prayer 
 to that bliss-loving Queen whose eye, alone was upon me , I passed/ 
 through the portal and descended into the pyramid. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT the bottom of the stair-way I found myself in a low, narrow 
 passage, through which, without stooping almost to earth, it was 
 impossible to proceed. Though leading through a multiplicity of 
 dark windings , this way seemed but lillle to advance my progress , 
 its course , I perceived , being chiefly circular, and gathering , 
 at every turn , but a deeper intensity of darkness. 
 
 "Can this," I thought, "be the sojourn of any thing human?" 
 and had scarcely asked myself the question, when the path opened 
 into a long gallery, at the farthest end of which a gleam of light was
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 visible. This welcome glimmer appeared lo come from some cell or 
 alcove, in which the right-hand wall of the gallery terminated; and. 
 breathless with expectation ,- 1 stole gently towards it. 
 
 Arrived at the end of the gallery, a scene presented itself lo my 
 eyes, for w : hich my fondest expectations of adventure could not have 
 prepared me. The place from which the light proceeded was a small 
 chapel, of whose interior, froq^the dark recess in which I stood, I 
 had, unseen myself, a fun and distinct view. Over the walls of this 
 oratory were painted soireof those various symbols, by which the 
 mystic wisdom of the Egyptians loves. lo shadow out the History of 
 the Soul the winged globe with a serpent, the rays descending 
 from above , like a glory, and the Theban beetle , as he comes forth , 
 after the waters have passed away, and the first sunbeam falls on his 
 regenerated wings. 
 
 In the middle of the chapel stood a low altar of granite , on which 
 lay a lifeless female form , enshrined within a case of crystal , as 
 they preserve their dead in Ethiopia, and looking as freshly beau- 
 tiful as if the soul had but a few hours departed. Among the emblems 
 of death, on the front of the altar, were a slender lotus-branch, 
 broken in two, and a bird , just winging its flight from the spray. 
 
 To these memorials of the dead, however, I but little attended; 
 for there was a living object there upon which my eyes were most 
 intently fixed. 
 
 The lamp, by which the whole of the chapel was illuminated , 
 was placed at the head of the paie image in the shrine ; and , be- 
 tween its light and me , stood a female form , bending over the mo- 
 nument , as if to gaze upon the silent features within. The position 
 in which this figure was placed , intercepting a strong light , afforded 
 me, at first, but an imperfect and shadowy view of it. Yetevmul 
 this mere outline my heart beat high , and memory, as it proved, 
 had as much share in this feeling as imagination. For, on the head 
 changing its position , so as to let a gleam fall on the features , I saw 
 wilh a transport , which had almost led me to betray my lurking- 
 place, that it was she the young worshipper of Isis the same, 
 the very same , whom I had seen , brightening the holy place where 
 she stood , and looking like an inhabitant of some purer world. 
 
 The movement , by which she had now given me an opportunity 
 of recognizing her, was made in raising from the shrine a small 
 cross ' of silver, which la> directly over the bosom of the lift-less 
 figure. Bringing it close to her lips, she kissed it wilh a religious 
 fervour- then, turning her eyes mournfully upwards, held them 
 fixed with an inspired earnestness . as if, at that moment, in direct 
 
 1 A cross was., among the Egyptians , the emblem oi a future life.
 
 *6 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 communion with heaven, they saw neither roof, nor any other 
 earthly barrier, between them and the skies. 
 
 What a power hath innocence , whose very helplessness is its 
 safeguard in whose presence even Passion himself stands abashed, 
 and turns worshipper at the altar which he came to despoil. She, 
 who , but a short hour before , had presented herself to my ima- 
 gination, as something I could have^isked immortality to win she, 
 whom gladly, from the floor of her own lighted temple , in the very 
 face of its proud ministers , I would have borne away in triumph , 
 and defied all punishments , both human and sacred , to make her 
 mine, she was now before me, thrown, as if by fate itself, into 
 my power standing there, beautiful and alone, with nothing but 
 her innocence for her guard! Yet , no so touching was the purity 
 of the whole scene , so calm and august that protection which the 
 dead seemed to extend over the living , that every earthlier feeling 
 was forgotten as I gazed , and love itself became exalted into re- 
 verence. 
 
 Entranced , indeed , as I felt in witnessing such a scene , thus to 
 enjoy it by stealth seemed a wrong , a sacrilege and , rather than 
 let her eyes meet the flash of mine , or disturb , by a whisper, that 
 sacred silence , in which Youth and Death held communion through 
 Love , I would have let my heart break , without a murmur, where 
 I stood. Gently, as if life depended upon every movement, I stole 
 away from that tranquil and holy scene leaving it still tranquil and 
 holy as I found it and , gliding back through the same passages 
 and windings by which I had entered , regained the narrow stair- 
 way, and again ascended into light. 
 
 The sun had just risen , and from the summit of the Arabian 
 hills , was pouring down his beams into that vast valley of waters , 
 as if proud of the homage that had been paid to his own Isis now 
 fading away in the superior light of her Lord. My first impulse was 
 to fly from this dangerous spot, and in new loves and pleasures 
 seek forgetfulness of the scene which I had witnessed. "Once out 
 of the circle of this enchantment," I exclaimed, " I know my own 
 susceptibility to new impressions too well , to doubt that 1 shall 
 soon break the spell that is around me." 
 
 But vain were my efforts and resolves. Even while I swore to fly, 
 my steps were still lingering round the pyramid my eyes still turned 
 towards the secret portal , which severgd this enchantress from the 
 world of the living. Hour after hour did I wander through that City 
 of Silence , till , already, it was noon , and , under the sun's me- 
 ridian eye, the mighty pyramid of pyramids stood, like a great 
 spirit, shadowless. 
 
 Again did those wild and passionate feelings , which had , for a
 
 THE EPICUREAN. J7 
 
 moment , been subdued into reverence by her presence , return to 
 kindle up my imagination and senses. I even reproached myself for 
 the awe, that had held me spell-bound before her. " What \vould 
 my companions of the Garden say, did they know that their chief, 
 he, whose path Love had strewed with trophies was now pining 
 for a simple Egyptian girl , in whose presence he had not dared to 
 give utterance to a sigh , and who had vanquished the victor, w ith- 
 out even knowing her triumph ! " 
 
 A blush came over my cheek at the humiliating thought, and my 
 determination was fixed to await her coming. That she should be an 
 inmate of those gloomy caverns seemed inconceivable ,- nor did there 
 appear to be any issue from their depths but by the pyramid. Again, 
 therefore , like a sentinel of the dead , did I pace up and down 
 among these tombs, contrasting in many a mournful reflection, the 
 burning fever within my own veins with the cold quiet of those 
 who slept around. 
 
 At length the fierce glow of the sun over my head , and , still 
 more , that ever restless agitation in my heart , were too much for 
 even strength like mine to bear. Exhausted , I lay down at the base 
 of the pyramid placing myself directly under the portal , where, 
 even should slumber surprise me , my heart , if not my ear, might 
 still be on the watch, and her footstep, light as it was, could not fail 
 to awake me. 
 
 After many an ineffectual struggle against drowsiness , I at length 
 sunk into sleep but not into forgetfulness. The same image still 
 haunted me , in every variety of shape with which imagination , 
 assisted by memory, could invest it. Now, like Neilha, upon her 
 throne at Sais , she seemed to sit, with the veil just raised from that 
 brow , w hich mortal had never , till then , beheld , and now , like 
 the beautiful enchantress Rhodope , I saw her rise out of Ihe py- 
 ramid in which she had dwelt for ages , 
 
 Fair Rhodope , as story tells , 
 
 The bright, unearthly nymph, who dwells 
 
 Mid sunless gold and jewels hid. 
 
 The Lady of the Pyramid ! 
 
 So long , amid that unbroken silence , did my sleep continue , 
 that I found the moon again shining above the horizon , when I 
 awoke. All round was silent and lifeless as before, nor did a print 
 upon the herbage betray that any foot had passed it since my own. 
 Refreshed by rest, and with a fancy still more excited by the mystic 
 wonders of which I had been dreaming , I now resolved to revisit 
 the chapel in the pyramid, and put an end, if possible, to this 
 illusion that haunted me.
 
 38 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 Having learned from the experience of the preceding night , the 
 inconvenience of encountering those labyrinths without a light, I 
 now hastened to provide myself with a lamp from my boat. Track- 
 ing my way back with some difficulty to the shore, I there found, 
 not only my lamp , but some dates and dried fruits , with a store of 
 which , for my roving life upon the waters , I was always supplied , 
 and which now , after so many hours of abstinence , were a wel- 
 come and necessary relief. 
 
 Thus prepared , I again ascended the pyramid, and was proceed- 
 ing to search out the secret spring , when a loud , dismal noise was 
 heard at a distance, to which all the echoes of the cemetery an- 
 swered. It came from the Great Temple on the shore of the Lake, 
 and was the shriek which its gates the Gales of oblivion , as they 
 were called sent forth from their hinges , in opening at night , to 
 receive within their precincts the newly-landed dead. 
 
 I had heard that sound before , and always with sadness ; but , at 
 this moment , it thrilled through me , like a voice of ill-omen , and 
 I almost doubled whether I should not abandon my enterprise. The 
 hesitation, however, was but momentary,- even while it passed 
 through my mind, I had touched the spring of the portal. In a few 
 seconds more, I was again in the passage beneath the pyramid, and 
 being enabled by my lamp to follow the windings of the way more 
 rapidly, soon found myself at the door of the small chapel in the 
 gallery. 
 
 I entered, still awed, though there was now nothing living 
 within. The young priestess had fled had vanished, like a spectre, 
 into the darkness. AH the rest was , as I had left it on the preceding 
 night. The lamp still stood burning upon the crystal shrine the 
 cross lay where the hands of the young mourner had placed it , and 
 the cold image beneath wore the same tranquil look , as if resigned 
 to the solitude ofdrath of all lone things the loneliest. Remember- 
 ing the lips that ^had seen kiss that cross , and kindling with the 
 recollection, I raised it passionately to my own-, but, at the same 
 moment , I fancied the dead eyes met mine , and , saddened in the 
 midst of my ardour, I replaced the cross upon the shrine. 
 
 I had now lost all clue to the object of my pursuit , and was pre- 
 paring slowly to retrace my steps to earth , with that gloomy satis- 
 faction which certainty, even when unwelcome , brings , when, 
 as I held forth my lamp , on leaving the chapel , I could perceive 
 that the gallery, instead of terminating here , took a sudden bend to 
 the left, which had before eluded my eye, and which gave a pro- 
 mise of leading still further into those recesses. Re-animated b\ Ilii- 
 discovery, which opened a new source of hope to my hearl . I cast 
 but one hesitating look at my lamp , as if to ask whether it would
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 be faithful through the gloom I was about to encounter, and, with- 
 out further thought , rushed eagerly forward. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE path led, for some time, through the same sort of narrow 
 windings as those which I had encountered in descending the stair- 
 way , and at length opened, in a similar manner, into a straight and 
 steep gallery, along each side of which stood, closely ranged and 
 upright , a file of lifeless bodies , whose glassy eyes threw a preter- 
 natural glare upon me as I passed. 
 
 Arrived at the end of this gallery, I found my hopes a second 
 time vanish. The path , I perceived , extended no further. The only 
 object that I could discern , by the glimmering of my lamp , which 
 now , every minute , burned fainter and fainter, was the mouth of a 
 huge well, that lay gaping before me a reservoir of darkness, 
 black and unfathomable. It now crossed my memory lhat I had heard 
 of such wells , as being used occasionally for passages fay the priests. 
 Leaning down, therefore, over the edge, I looked anxiously within , 
 to discover whether it was possible to descend into the chasm; but the 
 sides were hard and smooth as glass, being varnished all over with 
 that dark pitch which the Dead Sea throws out on its slimy shore. 
 
 After a more attentive scrutiny however, I observed , at the depth 
 of a few feet, a sort of iron step, projecting dimly from the side, 
 and , below it , another, which , though hardly perceptible , w r as 
 just sufficient lo encourage an adventurous fool id the trial. Though 
 all hope of tracing the young Priestess was at an end , it being 
 impossible that female foot should have dared this descent , yet , 
 as I had so far engaged in the adventure , and there was , at least , 
 a mystery to be unravelled , I determined , at all hazards , to explore 
 the chasm. Placing my lamp (which was hollowed at the bottom, 
 so as to fit like a helmet) firmly on my head, and having thus both 
 hands at liberty for exertion , I set my foot cautiously on the iron 
 step, and descended into the well. 
 
 I found the same footing , at regular intervals , to a considerable 
 depth 5 and had already counted near a hundred of these steps , 
 when the ladder altogether ceased, and I could descend no farther. 
 In vain did I stretch down my foot in search of support the hard, 
 slippery sides were all that it encountered. At length , stooping my 
 head, so as to let the light fall below, I observed an opening or 
 window directly above the step on which I stood , and, taking for 
 granted that the way must lie in that direction, with Ionic little 
 difficulty clambered through the aperture. 
 
 I now found myself on a rude and narrow stairway, the steps of
 
 30 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 which were cut out of the living rock , and wound spirally down- 
 ward in the same direction as the well. Almost dizzy with the 
 descent, which seemed as if it would never end, I . at last, reached 
 the bottom , where a pair of massy iron gates closed directly across 
 my path , as if to forbid any further progress. Massy, however, and 
 gigantic as they were , I found , to my surprise . that the hand of 
 an infant might have opened them with ease so readily did their 
 great folds give way to my touch , 
 
 Light as a lime-bush , that receives 
 Some wandering bird among its leaves. 
 
 No sooner, however, had I passed through , than the din , with 
 which the gates clashed together again , was such as might have 
 awakened death itself. It seemed as if every echo , throughout that 
 vast , subterranean world , from the Catacombs of Alexandria to 
 Thebes's Valley of Rings, had caught up and repeated the thunder- 
 ing sound. 
 
 Startled , however, as I was , not even this supernatural clangour 
 could divert my attention from the light that now broke upon me 
 soft, warm , and welcome as are the stars of his own south to the 
 mariner who has been wandering through the seas of the north. 
 Looking for the source of this splendour, I saw , through an arch- 
 way opposite , a long illuminated alley, stretching away as far as 
 the eye could reach , and fenced , on one side , with thickets of odo- 
 riferous shrubs , while , along the other, extended a line of lofty 
 arcades , from which the light , that filled the whole area , issued. 
 As soon, too, as the deep echoes had subsided, there stole gra- 
 dually on my ear a strain of choral music, which appeared to come, 
 mellowed and sweetened in its passage , through many a spacious 
 hall within those shining arcades. Among the voices I could dis- 
 tinguish some female tones , towering high and clear over all the 
 rest , and forming the spire, as it were , into which the harmony ta- 
 pered , as it rose. 
 
 So excited was my fancy by this sudden enchantment, that 
 though never had I caught a sound from the young Egyptian's lips, 
 yet I persuaded myself that the voice I now heard was hers , 
 sounding highest and most heavenly of all that choir, and calling to 
 me , like a distant spirit out of its sphere. Animated by this thought, 
 I flew forward to the archway, but found, to my mortification, that 
 it was guarded by a trellis-work, whose bars , though invisible at a 
 distance, resisted all my efforts to force them. 
 
 While occupied in these ineffectual struggles , I perceived , to the 
 left of the archway , a dark , cavernous opening , which seemed to 
 Jead in a direction parallel to the lighted arcades. Notwithstanding;
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 31 
 
 my impatience , however, the aspect of this passage, as I looked 
 shudderingly into it, chilled my very blood. It was not so much 
 darkness, as a sort of vivid and ghastly twilight, from which a damp, 
 like that of death-vaults , exhaled , and through which , if my eyes 
 did not deceive me, pale, phantom-like shapes were, at that very 
 moment , hovering. 
 
 Looking anxiously round , to discover some less formidable outlet, 
 I saw over the vast folding-gates through which I had just passed, a 
 blue , tremulous flame , which , after playing for a few seconds over 
 the dark ground of the pediment , settled gradually into characters 
 of light , and formed the following words : 
 
 You , who would try 
 
 Yon terrible track , 
 To live , or to die , 
 
 But ne'er to look hack 
 
 You , who aspire 
 
 To be purified there , 
 By tlie terrors of Fire, 
 
 Of Water, and Air, 
 
 If danger, and pain , 
 
 And death, you despise , 
 On for again 
 
 Into light you shall rise . 
 
 Rise into light 
 
 With that Secret Divine , 
 Now shrouded from sight 
 
 By the Veils of the Shrine ! 
 
 But if 
 
 Here the letters faded away into a dead blank , more awfully in- 
 telligible than the most eloquent words . 
 
 A new hope now flashed across me. The dream of the Garden , 
 which had been for some lime almost forgotten , returned to my 
 mind. ' ; Am I then, " I exclaimed., " in the path to the promised 
 mystery ? and shall the great secret of Eternal Life indeed be mine ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " seemed to answer, out of the air, that spirit-voice, which 
 was still heard crowning the choir with its single sweetness. I hailed 
 the omen With transport. Love and Immortality , both beckoning 
 me onward who could give a thought to fear , with two such 
 bright hopes in view? Having invoked and blessed that unknown 
 enchantress, whose steps had led me to this abode of mystery and 
 knowledge, I plunged into the chasm. 
 
 Instead of that vague , spectral twilight which had at first met my 
 eye , I now found , as I entered , a thick darkness , which though 
 far less horrible , was, at this moment, still more disconcerting , a*
 
 3* THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 my lamp , which had been , for some time , almost useless , was fast 
 expiring. Resolved , however, to make the most of its last gleam , 
 I hastened, with rapid step, through this gloomy region ^ which 
 seemed wider and more open to the air than any that I had yet passed. 
 Nor was it long before the appearance of a bright blaze in the 
 distance announced to me that my first great trial was at hand. As I 
 drew nearer , the flames burst high and wide on all sides ; and the 
 spectacle that now presented itself was such as might have appalled 
 even hearts more habituated to dangers than mine. 
 
 There lay before me , extending completely across my path , a 
 thicket or grove of the most combustible trees of Egypt tamarind, 
 pine, and Arabian balm. Around their stems and branches were 
 coiled serpents of fire, which, twisting themselves rapidly from bough 
 to bough, spread their own wild-fire as they went, and involved 
 tree after tree in one general blaze. It was, indeed, rapid as the 
 burning of those reed-beds of Ethiopia , whose light brightens , at 
 night, the distant cataracts of the Nile. 
 
 Through the middle of this blazing grove, I perceived , my only 
 pathway lay. There was not a moment to be lost the conflagration 
 gained rapidly on either side , and already the narrowing path be- 
 tween was strewed with fire. Casting away my now useless lamp, and 
 holding my robe as some protection over my head , with a tremor , 
 I own, in every limb, I ventured through the blaze. 
 
 Instantly , as if my presence had given new life to the flames , a 
 fresh outbreak of combustion arose on all sides. The trees clustered 
 into a bower of fire above my head, while the serpents, that hung 
 hissing from the red branches, shot showers of sparkles down upon 
 ine , as I passed. Never were decision and activity more serviceable; 
 one minute later, and I must have perished. The narrow open- 
 ing, of which I had so promptly availed myself, closed instantly 
 behind me ; and , as I looked back , to contemplate the ordeal which 
 I had passed , I saw that the whole grove was already one mass 
 of fire. 
 
 Happy at having escaped this first trial , I plucked from one of the 
 pine-trees a bough that was but just kindled, and, with this for my 
 only guide, hastened breathlessly forward. I had gone but a few 
 paces, when the path turned suddenly off, leading downwards, 
 as I could see by the glimmer of my brand, into a more confined 
 space, through which a chilling air, as if from some neighbouring 
 waters, falew^over my brow. Nor had I proceeded very far, when 
 the sound of torrents fell on my ear , mingled , as I thought , from 
 time to time , with shrill waitings , like the cries of persons in danger 
 or distress. At every step the noise of the dashing waters increased , 
 and I now perceived that I had entered an immense rocky cavern ,
 
 THE EPICUREAN 3.3 
 
 through the middle of which, headlong as a winter-torrent, the 
 Hood, to whose roar I had been listening, rushed. Upon its surface, 
 too, there floated strange, spectre-like shapes, which, as they \\eni 
 by , sent forth those dismal shrieks , as if in fear of some precipice 
 to whose brink they were hurrying. 
 
 I saw too plainly that my course must be across that torrent. I! 
 was fearful; but in courage lay my only hope. What awaited me op. 
 the opposite shore , I knew not ; for all there was wrapped in impe- 
 netrable gloom , nor could the weak light I held reach half so far. 
 Dismissing, however, all thoughts but that of pressing onward, I 
 sprung from the rock on which I stood into the flood, trusting 
 that, with my right hand, I should be able to buffet the current, 
 while , with the other , I might contrive to hold my brand aloft, as 
 long as a glimmer of it remained , to guide me to the shore. 
 
 Long and formidable was the struggle I had to maintain. More 
 Mian once, overpowered by the rush of the waters, I had almost 
 given myself up, as destined to follow those apparitions, that still 
 passed me , hurrying , with mournful cries , to their doom in some 
 invisible gulf before them. 
 
 At length, just as my strength was nearly exhausted , and the last 
 remains of the pine-branch were falling from my hand, I saw, out- 
 stretching towards me into the water, a light double balustrade, 
 with a flight of steps between , ascending, almost perpendicularly . 
 from the wave , till they seemed lost in a dense mass of clouds above. 
 This glimpse for it was no more, as my light expired in giving it 
 lent new spring to my courage. Having now both hands at liberty, 
 so desperate were my efforts, that after a few minutes' struggle , 1 
 felt my brow strike against the stairway, and, in an instant more , 
 my feet were on the steps. 
 
 Rejoiced at my rescue from that perilous flood, though I knew 
 not whither the stair-way led, I promptly ascended it. But this feel- 
 ing of confidence was of short duration. I had not mounted far , 
 when, to my horror, I perceived, that each successive step, as my 
 foot left it , broke away from beneath me , leaving me in mid air , 
 with no other alternative than that of mounting still by Ihe same 
 momentary footing , and with the dreadful doubt whether it would 
 even endure my tread. 
 
 And thus did I, for a few seconds, continue to ascend,* with 
 nothing beneath me but that awful river, in which so tranquil it 
 had become I could hear the plash of the falling fragments , as 
 every step in succession gave way under my feel. It was a trying 
 moment , but still worse remained. I now found the balustrade , by 
 which I had held during my ascent, and which had hitherto seemed 
 firm, grow tremulous in my hand, while the step to which 1 was 
 
 3
 
 34 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 about to trust myself, tottered under my foot. Just then, a moment- 
 ary flash , as if of lightning , broke around, and I saw . hanging out 
 of the clouds . \vilhin my reach, a huge brazen ring. Instinctively I 
 stretched forth my arm to seize it , and , at the same instant , both 
 balustrade and steps gave way beneath me, and I was left swinging 
 by my hands in the dark void. As if, too , this massy ring , which I 
 grasped, was by some magic power linked with all the winds in 
 heaven , no sooner had I seized it than like the touching of a spring, 
 it seemed to give loose to every variety of gusts and tempests , that 
 ever strewed the sea-shore with wrecks or dead 5 and , as I swung 
 about, the sport of this elemental strife , each new burst of its fury 
 threatened to shiver me , like a storm-sail , to atoms ! 
 
 Nor was even this the worst; still holding, I know not how, by 
 the ring, I felt myself caught up, as if by a thousand whirlwinds, 
 and round and round , like a stone shot in a sling , whirled in the 
 midst of all this deafening chaos , till my brain grew dizzy, and my 
 recollection confused , and I almost fancied myself on that wheel of 
 the infernal world, whose rotations , it is said, Eternity alone can 
 number ! 
 
 Human strength could no longer sustain such a trial. I was on 
 the point , at last, of loosing my hold , when suddenly the violence 
 of the storm moderated ; my whirl through the air gradually 
 ceased , and I felt the ring slowly descend with me , till happy as 
 a shipwrecked mariner at the first touch of land I found my feet 
 once more upon firm ground. 
 
 At the same moment , a light of the most delicious softness filled 
 the whole air. Music , such as is heard in dreams , came floating 
 at a distance ; and , as my eyes gradually recovered their powers of 
 vision , a scene of glory was revealed to them , almost loo bright 
 for imagination , and yet living and real. As far as the sight could 
 reach, enchanting gardens were seen, opening away through long 
 tracts of light and verdure , and sparkling every where with foun- 
 tains, that circulated, like streams of life, among the flowers. Not 
 a charm was here wanting , that the imagination of poet or prophet . 
 in their pictures of Elysium , ever yet dreamed or promised. Vistas, 
 opening into scenes of indistinct grandeur, streams, shining out at 
 intervals, in their shadowy course, and labyrinths of flowers, 
 leading , by mysterious windings , to green spacious glades , full of 
 splendour and repose. Over all this , too , there fell a light , from 
 some unseen source, resembling nothing that illumines our upper 
 world a sort of golden moonlight , mingling the warm radiance of 
 day with the calm and melancholy lustre of night. 
 
 Nor were there wanting inhabitants for this sunless Paradise. 
 Through all the bright gardens wee wandering , with the serene
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 3& 
 
 ;rir and step of happy spirits . groups both of young and old . of ve- 
 nerable and of lovely forms , bearing , most of them , the Nile's 
 while flowers on their heads , and branches of the eternal palm in 
 their hands: while, over the verdant turf, fair children and maidens 
 went dancing to aerial music , whose source was , like thai of 
 the light, invisible, but which filled the whole air with its mystic 
 sweetness. 
 
 Exhausted as I was by the trials I had undergone , no sooner did 
 I perceive those fair groups in the distance , than my weariness , 
 both of frame and spirit , was forgotten. A thought crossed me that 
 she , whom I sought , might be among them ; and , notwithstand- 
 ing the awe , with which that unearthly scene inspired me, I was 
 about to fly, on the instant . to ascertain my hope. But in the act of 
 making the effort, I felt my robe gently pulled, and turning, beheld 
 an aged man before me , whom , by the sacred hue of his garb , 
 I knew to be a Hierophant. Placing a branch of the consecrated 
 palm in my hand, he said, in a solemn voice, "Aspirant of the 
 Mysteries , welcome ! " then, regarding me for a few seconds with 
 grave attention, added, in a tone of courleousness and interest, 
 " The victory over the body hath been gained ! Follow me, young 
 Greek , to thy resting-place." 
 
 I obeyed in silence , and the priest , turning away from this 
 scene of splendour, into a secluded path , where the light faded 
 away, as we advanced , conducted me to a small pavilion , by the 
 side of a whispering stream, where the very spirit of slumber seemed 
 to preside , and , pointing to a bed of dried poppy-leaves within it , 
 left me to repose. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THOUGH the sight of the splendid scene which openefl upon me , 
 like a momentary glimpse into another world, had, for an instant, 
 re-animated my strength and spirit , so completely had fatigue 
 overmastered my whole frame , that even had the form of the 
 young Priestess stood before me, my limbs would have sunk in the 
 effort to reach her. No sooner had I fallen on my leafy couch , than 
 sleep , like a sudden death , came over me ; and I lay, for hours , in 
 the deep , and motionless rest , which not even a shadow of life 
 disturbs. 
 
 On awaking I saw. beside me. the same venerable personage . 
 who had welcomed me to this subterranean world on the preceding 
 night. At the fool of my couch stood a statue , of Grecian workman- 
 ship , representing a boy, with wings, seated gracefully on a loiiis- 
 llo\uT, and having the fore-finger of his right hand pressed to his
 
 3G THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 lips. This action , together with the glory round his brows, denoted, 
 as I already knew, the God of Silence and Light. 
 
 Impatient to know what further trials awaited me, I was about to 
 speak, when the priest exclaimed, anxiously, "Hush!" and, 
 pointing to this statue at the foot of the couch , said " Let the spell 
 of that Spirit be on thy lips, young stranger, till the wisdom of thy 
 instructors shall think fit to remove it. Not unaptly doth the same 
 god preside over Silence and Light , since it is only out of the 
 depth of contemplative silence , that the great light of the soul , 
 Truth, arises ! " 
 
 Little used to the language of dictation or instruction , I was now 
 preparing to rise , when the priest again restrained me ; and , at the 
 same moment , two boys , beautiful as the young Genii of the stars , 
 entered the pavilion. They were habited in long garments of the 
 purest white , and bore each a small golden chalice in his hand. 
 Advancing towards me, they stopped on opposite sides of the couch, 
 and one of them , presenting to me his chalice of gold , said , in a 
 tone between singing and speaking , 
 
 " Drink of this cup Osiris sips 
 
 The same in his halls below; 
 And the same he gives, to cool the lips 
 Of the Dead, who downward go. 
 
 " Drink of this cup the water within 
 
 Is fresh from Lethe's stream ; 
 'T will make the past, with all its sin , 
 And all its pain and sorrows, seem 
 Like a long-forgotten dream ! 
 
 "The pleasure, whose charms 
 
 Are steep'd in woe : 
 The knowledge , that harms 
 The soul to know ; 
 
 The hope, that, bright 
 
 As the lake of the waste , 
 Allures the sight , 
 But mocks the taste; 
 
 *' The love that binds 
 
 Its innocent wreath , 
 
 Where the serpent winds, 
 
 In venom, beneath; 
 
 " All that , of evil or false, by thee 
 Hath ever been known or seen , 
 Shall melt away in this cup , and be 
 Forgot, as it never had been ! 
 
 Unwilling to throw a slight on this strange ceremony, I leaned 
 forward, with all due gravity, and tasled the cup 5 which I had no
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 37 . 
 
 sooner done than the young cup-bearer, on the olher side , invited 
 my attention , and , in his turn , presenting the chalice which he 
 held , sung , with a voice still sweeter than that of his companion , 
 Ihe following strain : 
 
 " Drink of tliis cup when Isis led 
 
 Her boy, of old , to the beaming sky, 
 She mingled a draught divine, and taid 
 ' Driuk of this cup , thou'lt never die ! ' 
 
 " Thus do 1 say aud sing to thee , 
 
 Heir of that boundless heaven ou high , 
 
 Though frail , and fall'n , and lost thou be , 
 
 Drink of this cup , thou'lt never die ! " 
 
 Much as I had endeavoured to keep my philosophy on its guard, 
 against the illusions with which , I knew, this region abounded , 
 the young cup-bearer had here touched a spring of imagination , 
 over which, as has been seen, my philosophy had but little con- 
 troul. No sooner had the words, " thou shalt never die," struck on 
 my car, than the dream of the Garden came fully to iny mind , and , 
 starling halfway from my couch , I stretched forth my hands to the 
 cup. Recollecting myself, however, and fearful of having betrayed 
 to others a weakness only fit for my own secret indulgence , with 
 an affected smile of indifference I sunk back again on my couch , 
 while the young minstrel , but little interrupted by my movement , 
 still continued his strain , of which I heard but the concluding 
 words : 
 
 " And Memory, too , with her dreams shall come , 
 
 Dreams of a former, happier day, 
 When Heaven was still the Spirit's home , 
 And her wings Lad uot yet fallen away j 
 
 " Glimpses of glory, ne'er forgot, 
 
 That tell , like gleams on a sunset sea , 
 What once hath been , what now is not . 
 But, oh, what again shall brightly be! " 
 
 
 
 Though the assurances of immortality, contained in these verses , 
 would , at any other moment , vain and visionary as I thought 
 them, have sent my fancy wandering into reveries of the future, 
 the effort of self-control I had just made enabled me to hear them 
 with indifference. 
 
 Having gone through the form of lasting this second cup, I again 
 looked anxiously to the Hierophant, to ascertain whether I might 
 be permitted to rise. His assent having been given , the young pages 
 brought to my couch a robe and tunic , which , like their own , were 
 of linen of the purest while ; and having assisted lo clothe me in this 
 sacred garb, they then placed upon my head a chaplct of myrtle, in.
 
 58 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 which the symbol of Initiation , a golden grasshopper, was seen 
 shining out from among the dark leaves. 
 
 Though sleep had done much to refresh my frame , something 
 more was still wanting to restore its strength , and it was not without 
 a smile at my own reveries I reflected, how much more welcome 
 than the young page's cup of immortality was the unpretending , 
 hut real , repast now set before me , fresh fruits from the Isle of 
 Gardens in the Nile , the delicate flesh of the desert antelope , and 
 wine from the Vineyard of the Queens at Anthylla , fanned by one 
 ofthe pages with a palm-leaf, to keep it cool. 
 
 Having done justice to these dainties , it was with pleasure I heard 
 the proposal of the priest , that we should now walk forth together, 
 and meditate among the scenes without. I had not forgotten the 
 elysium that welcomed me last night , those enchanted gardens , 
 that mysterious music , and light , and the fair forms I saw wander- 
 ing about , as if, in the very midst of happiness , still seeking it. 
 The hope, which had then occurred to me, that, perhaps , among 
 those sparkling groups , might be the maiden I sought , now re- 
 turned with increased strength. I had little doubt that my guide was 
 about to lead to the same Elysian scene , and that the form , so fit to 
 inhabit it , would again appear before my eyes. 
 
 But far different was the region to which he conducted me ; nor 
 could the whole world produce a scene more gloomy, or more 
 strange. It had the appearance of a small, solitary valley, inclosed, 
 on every side , by rocks , which seemed to rise , almost perpendi- 
 cularly, to the very sky ; for it was, indeed, the blue sky that I 
 saw shining between their summits , and whose light , dimmed and 
 half lost , in its descent thus far, formed the melancholy daylight of 
 this nether world '. Down the side of these rocky walls fell a cataract, 
 whose source was upon earth , and on whose waters , as they rolled 
 glassily over the edge above, a gleam of radiance rested, that showed 
 how brilliant was the sunshine they left. From thence , gradually 
 darkening , and broken , in its long descent , by alternate chasms 
 and projections, the stream fell, at last, in a pale and thin mist 
 the phantom of what it had been on earth into a small lake that lay 
 at the base of the rock to receive it. 
 
 Nothing could be more black and saddening than the appearance of 
 this lake. The usual ornaments ofthe waters of Egypt were not want- 
 ing : the lotus here uplifted her silvery flowers , and (lie crimson 
 flamingo floated over the tide. But they were, neither of them, the 
 
 ' " On s'etait meme avise, clepuis la premiere construction de ces demeures, de 
 l>ercer en plusieurs endroits jusqu'en haul les terres qni les couvraient ; non pas , 
 a la verite , pour jirtr nil jour qui u'aurait jamais etc suffisant , uiais pour recevoir 
 nn air salntaire, etc." 1 ' SETHOS.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 39 
 
 same as in the upper world ; the flower had exchanged its white- 
 ness for a livid hue , and the w ings of the bird hung heavy and co- 
 lourless. Every thing wore the same half-living aspect ; and the only 
 sounds that disturbed the mournful stillness were the wailing cry of 
 a heron among the sedges , and that din of the waters , in theii 
 midway struggle , above. 
 
 There was an unearthly sadness in the whole scene , of which no 
 heart, however light, could resist the influence. Perceiving how 1 
 was affected by it, "Such scenes," said the priest, "are best 
 suited to that solemn complexion of mind, which becomes him who 
 approaches the Great Secret of futurity. Behold," and in saying 
 thus, he pointed to the opening over our heads, through which I 
 could perceive a star or two twinkling in the heavens, though the 
 sun had but a short time passed his meridian , "as from this gloomy 
 depth we can see those stars , which are now invisible to the dwell- 
 ers upon the bright earth , even so , to the sad and self-humbled 
 spirit, doth many a mystery of heaven reveal itself, of which lhe\ 
 who walk in the light of the proud world, know not! " 
 
 He now led me towards a rustic seat or alcove, beside which 
 stood an image of that dark Deity, that God without a smile, who 
 presides over the kingdom of the Dead ' . The same livid and 
 lifeless hue was upon his features , that hung over every thing in 
 this dim valley; and, with his right hand, he pointed directly 
 downwards , to denote that his melancholy kingdom lay there. A 
 plantain that favourite tree of the genii of Death stood behind 
 the statue, and spread its branches over the alcove, in which the 
 priest now, sealing himself, signified that I should lake my place by 
 his side. 
 
 After a long pause, as if of thought and preparation , " Nobly , 
 said he, " young Greek, hast thou suslained the tirsl trials of Ini- 
 tiation. What remains, though of vital import to the soul, brings 
 with il neither pain nor peril lo Ihc body. Having now proved and 
 chastened thy mortal frame , by the Ihree ordeals of Fire , of Water, 
 and of Air, the next task lo which we are called is the purification 
 of thy spirit, the cleansing of that inward and immortal part, so 
 as to render il fit for the reception of Ihe lasl luminous revealmenl , 
 when the "Veils of Ihe Sanctuary shall be thrown aside, and the 
 Great Secret of Secrets unfolded lo thee ! Towards this object , the 
 primary and most essential step is , instruclion. What the three pu- 
 rifying elements, through which thou hast passed, have done for thy 
 body, instruction will effect for " 
 
 "But that lovely maiden! " I exclaimed, bursting from my 
 
 1 Osiris.
 
 in THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 silence, having fallen , during his speech, into a deep reverie, in 
 which I had forgotten him, myself, the Great Secret, every thing 
 but her. 
 
 Startled by this profane interruption , he cast a look of alarm 
 towards the statue , as if fearful lest the God should have heard my 
 words. Then, turning to me, in a tone of mild solemnity, " It is 
 but loo plain ," said he , " that thoughts of the upper world , and 
 of its vain delights , still engross thee too much , to let the lessons of 
 Truth sink profitably into thy heart. A few hours of meditation 
 amid this solemn scenery of that wholesome meditation , which 
 purifies, by saddening may haply dispose thee to receive, with 
 reverence , the holy and immortal knowledge that is in store for 
 thee. With this hope , I now leave thee to thy own thoughts , and 
 to that God. before whose calm and mournful eye the vanities of 
 the world , from which thou comest , wither ! " 
 
 Thus saying , he turned slowly away, and passing behind the 
 statue , towards which he had pointed during the last sentence , 
 suddenly, and as if by enchantment , disappeared from my sight. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BEING left to my own solitary thoughts, I had now leisure to 
 reflect, with coolness, on the inconveniences, if not dangers , of 
 the situation into which my love of adventure had hurried me. 
 However ready my imagination was to kindle, in its own ideal 
 sphere, I have ever found that, when brought into contact with 
 reality, it as suddenly cooled; like those meteors, that seem stars 
 in the air, but, at the moment they touch earth, are extinguished. 
 Such was the disenchantment that now succeeded to the dreams in 
 which I had been indulging. As long as Fancy had the field of the 
 future to herself, even immortality did not seem too distant a race 
 for her. But when human instruments interposed , the illusion 
 vanished. From mortal lips the promise of immortality seemed a 
 mockery, and imagination herself had no wings that could carry 
 beyond the grave. 
 
 Nor was this disappointment the only feeling that occupied me ; 
 the imprudence of the step , which I had taken , now appeared in 
 ils full extent before my eyes. I had thrown myself into the power 
 of the most artful priesthood in the world , without a chance of being 
 able to escape from their toils , or to resist any machinations with 
 which they might beset me. It seemed evident, from the state of 
 preparation in which I had found all that wonderful apparatus, by 
 which the terrors and splendours of Initiation are produced, that my 
 descent into the pyramid was not unexpected. Numerous , indeed ,
 
 THE EP1CLREA1V .( 
 
 nnd active as were the spies of the Sacred College of Memphis . there 
 could be but little doubt that all my movements, since my arrival , 
 had been tracked ; and the many hours I had passed in watching and 
 wandering round the pyramid , betrayed a curiosity which might 
 well inspire these wily priests with the hope of drawing an Epicurean 
 into their superstitious toils. 
 
 I well knew their hatred to the sect of which I was Chief ; that 
 Ihey considered the Epicureans as, next to the Christians , the most 
 formidable enemies of their craft and power. "How thoughtless, 
 then, 11 I exclaimed, " to have placed myself in a situation, where 
 I am equally helpless against their fraud and violence , and must 
 either seem to be the dupe of their impostures , or submit to become 
 the victim of their vengeance. " Of these alternatives , bitter as they 
 were, the latter appeared by far the more welcome. I blushed even 
 to think of the mockeries to which I already had yielded ; and the 
 prospect of being put through still further ceremonials , and of being 
 tutored and preached to by hypocrites I despised, appeared to me, 
 in my present temper, a trial of patience , to which the flames and 
 the whirlwinds I had already encountered were pastime. 
 
 Often and impatiently did I look up , between those rocky walls , 
 to the bright sky that appeared to rest upon their summits , as , 
 round and round , through every part of the valley, I endeavoured to 
 tind an outlet from its gloomy precincts. But in vain I endeavoured ; 
 that rocky barrier, which seemed to end but in heaven , interposed 
 itself every where. Neither did the image of the young maiden , 
 though constantly in my mind , now bring with it the least consola- 
 tion or hope. Of what avail was it that she , perhaps , was an inha- 
 bitant of this region , if I could neither see her smile, nor catch the 
 sound of her voice , if, while among preaching priests T wasted 
 away my hours, her presence diffused its enchantment elsewhere? 
 
 At length exhausted , I lay down by the brink of the lake , and gave 
 myself up to all the melancholy of my fancy. The pale semblance of 
 daylight, which had hitherto shone around, grew every moment 
 more dim and dismal. Even the rich gleam , at the summit of the 
 cascade , had faded ; and the sunshine, like the water, exhausted in 
 its descent , had now dwindled into a ghostly glimmer, far worse than 
 darkness. The birds upon the lake , as if about to die with the dying 
 light , sunk down their heads ; and , as I looked to the statue , the 
 deepening shadows gave an expression to its mournful features that 
 chilled my very soul. 
 
 The thought of death . ever ready to present itself to my imagina- 
 tion , now came , with a disheartening weight , such as I had never 
 before felt. I almost fancied myself already in the dark vestibule of 
 the grave . separated . for ever, from the world above , and with
 
 12 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 nothing but Ihe blank of an eternal sleep before me. It had often , 1 
 knew, happened that the visitants of this mysterious realm were, 
 after their descent from earth, never seen or heard of ; being con- 
 demned , for some failure in their initiatory trials , to pine away 
 their lives in the dark dungeons , with which , as well as with altars , 
 this region abounded. Such , I shuddered to think, might probably 
 be my destiny ; and so appalling was the thought , that even the 
 spirit of defiance died within me , and I was already giving myself up 
 to helplessness and despair. 
 
 At length , after some hours of this gloomy musing , I heard a 
 rustling in the sacred grove behind the statue ; and , soon after, the 
 sound of the priest's voice more welcome than I had ever thought 
 such voice could be brought the assurance that I was not yet , at 
 least , wholly abandoned. Finding his way to me through the gloom , 
 he now led me to the same spot , on which we had parted so many 
 hours before ; and , in a voice that retained no trace of displeasure , 
 bespoke my attention , while he should reveal to me some of those 
 divine truths , by whose infusion , he said , into the soul of man , its 
 purification can alone be effected. 
 
 The valley had now become so wholly dark , that we could no 
 longer discern each other's faces , as we sat. There was a melancholy 
 in the voice of my instructor that well accorded with the gloom 
 around us ; and , saddened and subdued , I now listened with re- 
 signation , if not with interest , to those sublime , but , alas , 1 
 thought , vain tenets , which , with the warmth of a believer, this 
 Hierophant expounded to me. 
 
 He spoke of the pre-existence of the soul , of its abode , from all 
 eternity, in a place of bliss, of which all that we have most beautiful 
 in our conceptions here is but a dim transcript , a clouded remem- 
 brance. In the blue depths of ether, he said , lay that k ' Country of 
 the Soul , " its boundary alone visible in the line of milky light , 
 that separates it, as by a barrier of stars, from the dark earth. 
 " Oh , realm of purity ! home of the yet unfallen Spirit ! where , 
 in the days of her primal innocence , she wandered , ere her beauty 
 was soiled by the touch of earth, or her resplendent wings had 
 withered away. Methinks, " he cried, " I see, at this moment, 
 those fields of radiance , I look back , through the mists of life , into 
 that luminous world , where the souls that have never lost their 
 high , heavenly rank , still soar, without a slain , above the shadowless 
 stars , and dwell together in infinite perfection and bliss ! " 
 
 As he spoke these words , a burst of pure, brilliant light , like a 
 sudden opening of heaven , broke through the valley ; and as soon 
 as my eyes were able to endure the splendour, such a vision of love- 
 liness and glory opened upon them , as look even my sceptical spirit
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 43 
 
 by surprise, and made il yield, at once, to the potency of the 
 spell. 
 
 Suspended , as I thought , in air, and occupying the whole of the 
 opposite region of the valley, there appeared an immense orb of 
 light, within which, through a haze of radiance, I could seedistinclly 
 groups of young female spirits , who , in silent , but harmonious 
 movement, like that of the stars, wound slowly through a variety of 
 fanciful evolutions , and , as they linked and unlinked each other's 
 arms , formed a living labyrinth of beauty and grace. Though their 
 feet seemed to tread along a field of light, they had also wings , of 
 the richest hue , which , like rainbows over waterfalls , when played 
 with by the breeze , at every moment reflected a new variety of glorx . 
 
 As I stood , gazing with wonder, the orb , wilh all its ethereal in- 
 mates , gradually receded into the dark void , lessening , as it went , 
 and growing more bright , as it lessened : till , at length , distant , 
 apparently, as a retiring comet , this little world of Spirits , in one 
 small point of intense radiance , shone its last and vanished. " Go , " 
 exclaimed the rapt priest, " ye happy souls, of whose dwelling a 
 glimpse is thus given to our eyes , go , wander, in your orb , through 
 the boundless heaven , nor ever let a thought of this perishable \\orld 
 come to mingle its dross with your divine nature , or tempt you to 
 that earthward fall , by which spirits , as bright , have been ruined ! V 
 
 A pause ensued, during which, still under the influence of 
 wonder. I sent my fancy wandering after the inhabitants of that orb, 
 almost wishing myself credulous enough to believe in a heaven , 
 of which creatures, so like all that I most loved on earth , were 
 inmates. 
 
 At length , the priest , with a sigh at the contrast he was about to 
 draw, between the happy spirits we had just seen and the fallen ones 
 of earth , resumed his melancholy History of the Soul. Tracing it , 
 from the first moment of earthward desire , to its final eclipse in the 
 shadows of this world , he dwelt upon every stage of its darkening 
 descent , with a pathos that sent sadness into the very depth of the 
 heart. The first downward look of the Spirit towards earth the 
 tremble of her wings on the edge of Heaven the giddy slide , at 
 length , down that fatal descent , and the Lethaean cup , midway in 
 the sky, of which when she has once tasted, Heaven is forgot, 
 through all these gradations he mournfully traced her fall , to the last 
 stage of darkness , w hen , wholly immersed in this world , her ce- 
 lestial nature is changed , she can no longer rise above earth , nor 
 remembers her home , but fay glimpses so vague, that , mistaking 
 for hope w hat is only memory, she believes them to be a light from 
 the Future, not the Past. 
 
 " To retrieve this ruin of the once blessed Soul to clear away,
 
 U THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 from around her, the clouds of earth , and restoring her lost wings', 
 facilitate their return to Heaven such ," said the reverend man , 
 " is the great task of our religion , and such the triumph of those 
 divine Mysteries , in which the life and essence of our religion lie. 
 However sunk and changed and clouded may be the Spirit, as long as 
 a single trace of her original light remains, there is yet hope that " 
 
 Here his voice was interrupted by a strain of mournful music, of 
 which the low , distant breathings had been , for some minutes , 
 heard , but which now gained upon the ear too shrillingly to let it 
 listen to any more earthly sound. A faint light , too, at that instant 
 broke through the valley, and I could perceive , not far from the 
 spot where we sat , a female figure , veiled , and crouching to earth , 
 as if subdued by sorrow , or under the influence of shame. 
 
 The light , by which I saw her, was from a pale , moon-like 
 meteor, which had formed itself in the air as the music approached , 
 and shed over the rocks and the lake a glimmer as cold as that by 
 which the Dead , in Iheir own realm , gaze on each other. The 
 music , too , which appeared to rise directly out of the lake, and to 
 come full of the breath of its dark waters , spoke a despondency in 
 every note which no language could express ; and , as I listened to 
 its tones , and looked upon that fallen Spirit ( for such , the holy man 
 whispered, was the form before us) , so entirely did the illusion of 
 the scene lake possession of me , that with breathless anxiety, 1 
 waited the result. 
 
 Nor had I gazed long before that form rose slowly from its droop- 
 ing position -, the air around it grew bright , and the pale meteor 
 overhead assumed a more cheerful and living light. The veil , which 
 had before shrouded the face of the figure , became gradually trans- 
 parent , and the features , one by one , disclosed themselves through 
 it. Having tremblingly watched the progress of the apparition, I now 
 started from my seat , and half exclaimed , " It is she ! " In another 
 minute , this veil had , like a thin mist , melted away, and the young 
 Priceless of the Moon stood , for the third lime , revealed before 
 my eyes. 
 
 To rush instanlly lowards her was my first impulse but the 
 arm of the priest held me firmly back. The fresh light, which had 
 begun to flow in from all sides , collected itself in a glory round 
 the spot where she slood. Inslead of melancholy music , strains of 
 Ihe most exalted rapture were heard ; and the young maiden , buoyant 
 as the inhabitants of the fairy orb , amid a blaze of light like that 
 which fell upon her in the Temple , ascended into the air. 
 
 " Stay, beautiful vision, stay ! " I exclaimed, as breaking from 
 
 1 Iu the language of Plato, Hieroeles, etc., to " restore to the soul its wings," 
 is the maiu object boih of religion and philosophy.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 45, 
 
 the hold of the priest, I flung myself prostrate on the ground, the 
 only mode by which I could express the admiration, even to worship, 
 with which I was filled. But the vanishing spirit heard me not : 
 receding into the darkness , like that orb , whose track she seemed 
 to follow, her form lessened away, till she was seen no more. Gazing, 
 till the last luminous speck had disappeared , I suffered myself un- 
 consciously to be led away by my reverend guide , who , placing 
 me once more on my bed of poppy-leaves , left me to such repose 
 as it was possible , after such a scene , to enjoy. * 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE apparition with which I had been blessed in that Valley of 
 Visions as the place where I had witnessed these wonders , was 
 called brought back to my heart all the hopes and fancies, in 
 which I had indulged during my descent from earth. 1 had now 
 seen once more that matchless creature , who had been my guiding 
 star into this mysterious world; and that she was, in some way, 
 connected with the further revelations that awaited me , I saw no 
 reason to doubt. There was a sublimity, too , in the doctrines of my 
 revered teacher, and even a hope in the promises of immortality 
 held out by him , which , in spite of reason , won insensibly both 
 upon my fancy and my pride. 
 
 The Future , however, was now but of secondary consideration ; 
 the Present , and that deity of the Present , woman , were the 
 objects that engrossed my whole soul. For the sake, indeed, of 
 such beings alone did I think immortality desirable , nor, without 
 them , would eternal life have appeared to me worth a prayer. To 
 every further trial of my patience and faith , 1 now made up my 
 mind to submit without a murmur. Some propitious chance, I fondly 
 persuaded myself, might yet bring me nearer to the object of my 
 adoration , and enable me to address , as mortal woman , her who 
 had hitherto been to me but as a vision , a shade. 
 
 The period of my probation , however, was nearly at an end. 
 Both frame and spirit had now been tried ; and , as the crowning 
 test of the purification of the latter was that power of seeing into 
 the world of spirits , with which , in the Valley of Visions , I had 
 proved myself to be endowed , there remained now , to perfect my 
 Initiation , but this one night more , when , in the Temple of Isis , 
 and in the presence of her unveiled image , the last grand revelation 
 of the Secret of Secrets was to open upon me. 
 
 I passed the morning of this day in company with the same 
 venerable personage , who had , from the first , presided over the 
 ceremonies of my instruction , and who , to inspire me with due
 
 4C THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 reverence for the power and magnificence of his religion , now 
 conducted me through the long range of illuminated galleries and 
 shrines, that extend under the site upon which Memphis and the 
 Pyramids stand , and form a counter-part under ground to that 
 mighty city of temples upon earth. 
 
 He then descended with me, still lower, into those winding 
 crypts , where lay the Seven Tables of stone , found by Hermes in 
 the valley of Hebron. "On these tables," said he, "is written all 
 the knowledge of the antediluvian race , the decrees of the stars 
 from the beginning of time , the annals of a still earlier world , and 
 all the marvellous secrets , both of heaven and earth , which would 
 have been , 
 
 but for this key , 
 Lost iu the Universal Sea. 
 
 Returning to the region , from which we had descended , we next 
 visited , in succession , a series of small shrines , representing the 
 various objects of adoration through Egypt , and thus furnishing to 
 the priest an occasion for explaining the mysterious nature of animal 
 worship , and the refined doctrines of theology that lay veiled under 
 its forms. Every shrine was consecrated to a particular faith , and 
 contained a living image of the deity which it adored. Beside the 
 goat of Mendes , with his refulgent star upon his breast , I saw the 
 crocodile , as presented to the eyes of its idolaters at Arsinoe , with 
 cosily gems in its loathsome ears , and rich bracelets of gold encir- 
 cling its feet. Here, floating through a tank in the centre of a temple, 
 the sacred carp of Lepidotum exhibited its silvery scales ; while , 
 there , the Isiac serpents trailed languidly over the altar, with that 
 movement which most inspires the hopes of their votaries. In one 
 of the small chapels we found a beautiful child, feeding and watching 
 over those golden beetles , which are adored for their brightness , 
 as emblems of the sun ; while , in another, stood a sacred ibis upon 
 its pedestal , so like , in plumage and altitude , to the bird of the 
 young Priestess , that I could gladly have knelt down and worshipped 
 it for her sake. 
 
 After visiting these various shrines, and listening to the reflections 
 which they suggested , I was next led by my guide to the Great Hall 
 of the Zodiac , on whose ceiling , in bright and undying colours , 
 was delineated the map of the firmament , as it appeared at the first 
 dawn of time. Here , in pointing out the track of the sun , among 
 the spheres , he spoke eloquently of the analogy that exists between 
 moral and physical darkness of the sympathy with which all spi- 
 ritual creatures regard the sun , so as to sadden and droop when he 
 sinks into his wintry hemisphere, and to rejoice when he resumo
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 47 
 
 his own empire of licrht. Hence, the festivals and hymns, with 
 which most of the nations of the earth are wont to welcome the re- 
 surrection of his orb in spring , as an emblem and pledge of the re- 
 ascent of the soul to heaven. Hence , the songs of sorrow, the 
 mournful ceremonies , like those Mysteries of the Night , upon 
 the Lake of Sais, in which they brood over his autumnal descent 
 into the shades , as a type of the Spirit's fall into this world of 
 death. 
 
 In discourses such as these the hours passed away ; and though 
 there was nothing in the light of this sunless region to mark to the 
 eye the decline of day, my own feelings told me that the night drew 
 near ; nor, in spite of my incredulity, could I refrain from a flutter 
 of hope , as that promised moment of revelation approached , when 
 the Mystery of Mysteries was to be made all my own. This consum- 
 mation, however, was less near' than I expected. My patience had 
 still further trials to encounter. It was necessary, I now found, that 
 I should keep watch , during the greater part of the night , in the 
 Sanctuary of the Temple, alone and in darkness , and thus prepare 
 myself, by meditation, for the awful moment, when the irradiation 
 from behind the sacred Veils was to burst upon me. 
 
 At the appointed hour, we left the Hall of the Zodiac , and pro- 
 ceeded through a line of long marble galleries , where the lamps 
 were more thinly scattered as we advanced , till , at length , we 
 found ourselves in total darkness. Here the priest , taking me by 
 the hand, and leading me down a flight of steps , into a place where 
 the same deep gloom prevailed , said , with a voice trembling . ;is il 
 from excess of awe, "Thou art now in the Sanctuary of our 
 goddess , Isis , and the dark veils , that hang over her image , are 
 before thee I " 
 
 After exhorting me earnestly to that train of thought, which best 
 accorded with the spirit of the place where I stood, and above all, 
 to that full and unhesitating faith , with which alone , he said , the 
 manifestation of such mysteries should be approached , the holy 
 man took leave of me , and re-ascended the steps ; while, so spell- 
 bound did I feel by that deep darkness , that the last sound of his 
 footsteps died upon my ear, before I ventured to stir a limb from 
 the position in which he had left me. 
 
 The prospect of the long watch , now before me , was dreadful. 
 Even danger itself , in an active form , would have been preferable 
 to this sort of safe , but dull , probation , by which patience was the 
 only virtue put to the proof. Having ascertained how far the space 
 around me was free from obstacles , I endeavoured to beguile the 
 lime by pacing up and down within those limits , till I became tired 
 of the echoes of my own tread. Finding my way. then, to what I
 
 \A fHE EPICUREAN. 
 
 felt to be a massive pillar, and, leaning wearily against it , I sur- 
 rendered myself to a train of thoughts and feelings far different 
 from those with which the Hierophant had hoped to inspire me. 
 
 "Why," I again asked, " if these priests possess the secret of life, 
 why are they themselves the victims of death? why sink into the 
 grave with the cup of immortality in their hands ? But no , safe 
 boasters , the eternity they so lavishly promise is reserved for an- 
 otlier* a future world that ready resource of all priestly promises 
 that depositary of the airy pledges of all creeds. Another world ! 
 alas , where does it lie? or, what spirit hath ever come to say that 
 Life is there?" 
 
 The conclusion, to which, half sadly, half passionately, I arrived, 
 was that, life being but a dream of the moment , never to come 
 again , every bliss that is promised for hereafter should be secured 
 by the wise man here. And , as no'heaven I had ever heard of from 
 these visionary priests opened half such certainly of happiness as 
 that smile which I beheld last night, '"Let me, 1 ' I exclaimed, 
 impatiently, striking the massy pillar, till it rung , "let me but 
 make that beautiful Priestess my own, and I here willingly exchange 
 for her every chance of immortality, that the combined wisdom of 
 Egypt's Twelve Temples can offer me ! " 
 
 No sooner had I uttered these words , than a tremendous peal , 
 like that of thunder, rolled over the Sanctuary, and seemed to shake 
 its walls. On every side , too , a succession of blue , vivid flashes 
 pierced , like so many lances of light , through the gloom . reveal- 
 ing to me , at intervals , the mighty dome in which I stood its 
 ceiling of azure, studded with stars , its colossal columns, towering 
 aloft, and those dark mysterious veils, which hung, in massy 
 drapery, from the roof to the floor, and covered the rich glories of 
 the Shrine under their folds. 
 
 So weary had I grown of my tedious watch , that this stormy and 
 fitful illumination , during which the Sanctuary seemed to rock to 
 its base , was by no means an unwelcome interruption of the mono- 
 tony under which my impatience suffered. After a short interval , 
 however, the flashes ceased ; the sounds died away, like exhausted 
 thunder, through the abyss, and darkness and silence, like that of 
 the grave, succeeded. 
 
 Resting my back once more against the pillar, and fixing my 
 eyes upon that side of the Sanctuary, from which the promised 
 irradiation was to burst , I now resolved to wait the awful moment 
 in patience. Resigned and immovable , I had remained thus , for 
 nearly another hour, when suddenly, along the edges of the mighty 
 Yeils, I perceived a thin rim oflight, as if from some brilliant object
 
 THE EPICU'i! i ) 
 
 under lliem , like that border which encircles a cloud at sunset, 
 when the radiance , from behind , is escaping at its edges. 
 
 This indication of concealed glories grew every instant more 
 strong ; till , at last , vividly marked as it was upon the darkness , 
 the narrow fringe of lustre almost pained the eye , giving promise of 
 a splendour too bright to be endured. My expectations were now 
 wound to the highest pitch , and all the scepticism , into which I 
 had been cooling down my mind , was forgotten. The wonders that 
 had been presented to me since my descent from earth that glimpse 
 into Elysium on the first night of my coming those visitants from 
 the Land of Spirits in the mysterious valley, ill led me to expect, 
 in this last and brightest revelation , such visions of glory and 
 knowledge as might transcend even fancy itself, nor leave a doubt 
 that they belonged less to earth than heaven. 
 
 While, with an imagination thus excited, I stood waiting the 
 result , an increased gush of light still more awakened my attention ^ 
 and I saw, with an intenseness of interest, which made my heart 
 beat aloud , one of the corners of the mighty Veil slowly raised up. 
 I now felt that the Great Secret whatever it might be was at 
 hand. A vague hope even crossed my mind so wholly had imagi- 
 nation resumed her empire that the splendid promise of my 
 dream was on the point of being realised ! 
 
 With surprise , however, and for a moment with disappoint- 
 ment , I perceived that the massy corner of the Veil was but raised 
 sufficiently to allow a female figure to emerge from under it , and 
 then fell again , over its mystic splendours , as dark as before. By 
 the strong light , loo , that issued when the drapery was lifted , and 
 illuminated the profile of the emerging figure , I either saw , or 
 fancied that I saw, the same bright features, that had already 
 mocked me so often with their momentary charm, and seemed des- 
 tined to haunt my heart as unavailingly as the fond , vain dream of 
 Immortality itself. 
 
 Dazzled as I had been by that short gush of splendour, and dis- 
 trusting even my senses , when under the influence of a fancy so 
 excited , 1 had hardly lime to question myself as to the reality of my 
 impression, when I heard the sounds of light footsteps approaching 
 me through the gloom. In a second or two more, the figure slopped 
 before me , and, placing the end of a riband genlly in my hand , 
 said , in a tremulous whisper, " Follow , and be silent.' 1 
 
 So sudden and strange was the adventure, that, for a moment , I 
 hesitated , fearful lost my eyes should have been deceived as to the 
 object they had seen. Casting a look towards the Veil, which 
 seemed bursting with ils luminous secret, I was almost doubting 
 to which of the two chances I should commit myself, \\IKMI 1 felt
 
 5<, THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 the riband in my hand pulled softly at the other extremity. This 
 movement , at once , like a touch of magic, decided me. Without 
 further deliberation, I yielded to the silent summons, and following 
 my guide , who w as already at some distance before me , found 
 myself led up the same flight of marble steps , by w hich the priest 
 had conducted me into the Sanctuary. Arrived at their summit , I 
 felt the pace of my conductress quicken , and , giving one more 
 look to the Veiled Shrine , whose glories we left burning ineffec- 
 tually behind us , hastened into the gloom , full of confidence in the 
 belief , that she , who now held the other end of that clue , w as one 
 whom I could follow devotedly through the world. 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 So rapidly was I hurried along by my unseen conductress, full 
 of wonder at the speed with which she ventured through these la- 
 byrinths , that I had but little time to reflect upon the strangeness 
 of the adventure to which I had committed myself. My knowledge 
 of the character of the priests , as well as the fearful rumours that 
 had reached me , of the fate that often attended unbelievers in their 
 hands , waked a momentary suspicion of treachery in my mind. 
 But, when I recalled the face of my guide , as I had seen it in the 
 chapel, with that divine look, the very memory of which brought 
 purity into the heart , this suspicion all vanished , and I felt shame 
 at having harboured it but an instant. 
 
 In the mean while, our course continued uninterrupted, through 
 windings more capriciously intricate than any that I had yet passed, 
 and whose darkness seemed never to have been disturbed by a 
 single glimmer. My conductress still continued at some distance 
 before me , and the clue , to which I clung as if it were the thread 
 of Destiny herself, was still kept, by her speed, at full stretch 
 between us. At length, suddenly slopping , she said , in a breathless 
 whisper, " Seat thyself here ," and, at the same moment, led me 
 by the hand to a sort of low car, in w hich I lost not a moment in 
 placing myself, as desired, while the maiden, as promptly, look 
 her seat by my side. 
 
 A sudden click , like the touching of a spring , was then heard , 
 arid the car, which, as I had felt in entering it, leaned half-way 
 over a steep descent, on being loosed from its station, shot down, 
 almost perpendicularly, into the darkness, with a rapidity which, 
 at first , nearly deprived me of breath. The wheels slid smoothly and 
 noiselessly in grooves, and the impetus, which the car acquired in 
 descending , was sufficient, I perceived , to carry it up an eminence 
 that succeeded , from the summit of which it again rushed down
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 51 
 
 another declivity, wen still more long and precipitous than tin- 
 former. In this manner we proceeded , by alternate falls and rises , 
 till , at length , from the last and steepest elevation , the car de- 
 scended upon a level of deep sand, where , after running for a few 
 yards , it by degrees lost its motion and stopped. 
 
 Here, the maiden alighting, again placed the riband in my hands, 
 and again I followed her, though with more slowness and diffi- 
 culty than before , as our way led up a flight of damp and time-worn 
 steps , whose ascent seemed to the weary and insecure foot inter- 
 minable. Perceiving with what languor my guide now advanced , I 
 was on the point of making an effort to assist her progress , when 
 the creak of an opening door above , and a faint gleam of light 
 which, at the same moment, shone upon her figure, apprised me 
 that we were arrived within reach of sunshine. 
 
 Joyfully I followed through this opening , and , by the dim light, 
 could discern , that we were now in the sanctuary of a vast , ruined 
 temple , having entered by a passage under the lofty pedestal , 
 upon which an image of the idol of the place once stood. The first 
 movement of the maiden , after replacing the portal under the pe- 
 destal, was , without even a look towards me, to cast herself down 
 on her knees , with her hands clasped and uplifted , as if for the 
 purpose of thanksgiving or prayer. But she was unable to sustain 
 herself in this position ; her strength could hold out no longer. 
 Overcome by agitation and fatigue , she sunk senseless upon the 
 pavement. 
 
 Bewildered as I was , myself , by the events of the night , I stood 
 for some minutes looking upon her in a state of helplessness and 
 alarm. But, reminded, by my own feverish sensations , of the re- 
 viving effects of the air, I raised her gently in my arms , and cross- 
 ing the corridor that surrounded the sanctuary, found my way to 
 the outer vestibule of the temple. Here , shading her eyes from the 
 sun , I placed her, reclining , upon the steps , where the cool wind , 
 then blowing freshly from the north, might play, with free draught, 
 between the pillars over her brow. 
 
 It was , indeed, I now saw with certainty, the same beautiful 
 and mysterious girl , who had been the cause of my descent into 
 that subterranean world, and who now, under such strange and 
 unaccountable circumstances, was my guide back again to the 
 realms of day. I looked round, to discover where we were, and 
 beheld such a scene of grandeur, as could my eyes have wandered 
 to any other object from the pale form reclining at my side might 
 well have won them to dwell on its splendid beauties. 
 
 I was now standing , I found , on the small island in the centre 
 of Lake Moeris ; and Iliai sanctuary, where we had emerged from
 
 52 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 darkness, formed part of the ruins of a temple, which (as I have 
 since learned) was, in Hie grander days of Memphis, a place of 
 pilgrimage for worshippers from all parts of Egypt. The fair Lake, 
 itself, out of whose waters once rose pavilions , palaces , and even 
 lofty pyramids, was still, though divested of many of these wonders, 
 a scene ef interest and splendour such as the whole world could not 
 equal. While the shores still sparkled with mansions and temples , 
 that bore testimony to the luxury of a living race, the [voice of ihr 
 Past , speaking out of unnumbered ruins , whose summits , here 
 and there, rose blackly above the wave , told of times long fled and 
 generations long swept away, before whose giant remains all the 
 glory of the present stood humbled. Over the southern bank of the 
 Lake hung the dark relics of the Labyrinth ; its twelve Royal Pa- 
 laces , like the mansions of the Zodiac , its thundering portals 
 and constellated halls , having nothing left behind but a few frown- 
 ing ruins, which, contrasted with the soft groves of olive and 
 acacia around them , seemed to rebuke the luxuriant smiles of na- 
 ture , and threw a melancholy grandeur over the whole scene. 
 
 The effects of the air in re-animating the young Priestess , were 
 less speedy than I had expected ; her eyes were still closed, and 
 she remained pale and insensible. Alarmed , I now rested her head 
 ( which had been , for some time , supported by my arm , ) against 
 the base of a column, with my cloak for its pillow, while I hastened 
 to procure some water from the Lake. The temple stood high , and 
 the descent to the shore was precipitous. But , my Epicurean ha- 
 bits having but little impaired my activity, I soon descended , with 
 the lightness of a desert deer, to the bottom. Here, plucking from a 
 lofty bean-tree , whose flowers stood , shining like gold , above the 
 waters , one of those large hollowed leaves that serve as cups for the 
 Hebes of the Nile , I filled it from the Lake , and hurried back wilh 
 the cool draught to the temple. It was not without some difficulty 
 and delay that I succeeded , in bearing my rustic chalice steadily 
 up the steep $ more than once did an unlucky slip waste its con- 
 tents , and as often did I impatiently return to refil it. 
 
 During this lime , the young maiden was fast recovering her ani- 
 mation and consciousness ; and , at the moment when I appeared 
 above the edge of the sleep, was just rising from the steps, with 
 her hand pressed to her forehead , as if confusedly recalling the re- 
 collection of what had occurred. No sooner did she observe me than 
 a short cry of alarm broke from her lips. Looking anxiously round, 
 as though she sought for protection , and half audibly uttering the 
 words, " Where is he?" she made an effort, as I approached, to 
 retreat into the temple. 
 
 Already , however, 1 was by her side , and taking her hand gently,
 
 THE KPICL'REAN. 53 
 
 as she turned away. "Whom dost thou'seek, fair Priestess?" I 
 asked, for the tirsl lime breaking through the silence she had en- 
 joined, and in a tone thai might have re-assured the most timid 
 spirit. But my words had no effect in calming her apprehension. 
 Trembling, and with her eyes still averted towards the temple, she 
 continued in a voice of suppressed alarm, "Where can he be.' 
 that venerable Athenian, that philosopher, who '' 
 
 "Here, here," I exclaimed, anxiously interrupting her, 
 "behold him still by thy side the same, the very same who saw 
 Hire steal from under the lighted Veils of the Sanctuary, whom thou 
 liasl guided by a clue through those labyrinths below, and who now 
 but waits his command from those lips , to devote himself through 
 life and death to thy service. As I spoke these words, she turned 
 slowly round , and looking timidly in my face , while her own burned 
 witlj blushes, said, in a tone of doubt and wonder, " Thou!" and 
 hid her eyes in her hands. 
 
 I knew not how to interpret a reception so unexpected. That 
 some mistake or disappointment had occurred was evident 5 but so 
 inexplicable did the whole adventure appear, that it was in vain to 
 think of unravelling any part of it. Weak and agitated, she now tot- 
 tered to the steps of the temple , and there sealing herself, with her 
 forehead against the cold marble, seemed for some moments absorbed 
 in the most anxious thought , while silent and watchful I wailed 
 her decision, witli a prophetic feeling, however, that my destiny 
 would be henceforth linked with hers. 
 
 The inward struggle by w hich she w as agitated , though violent , 
 was not of long continuance. Starting suddenly from her seat, with 
 a look of terror towards the temple , as if the fear of immediate pur- 
 suit had alone decided her, she pointed eagerly towards the Easl , 
 and exclaimed, "To the Nile, without delay!" clasping her 
 hands, when she had spoken, with the most suppliant fervour, as 
 if to solten Ihe abruptness of the mandate she had given , and ap- 
 pealing to me w ith a look that would have taught Stoics tenderness. 
 
 I lost no time in obeying the welcome command. While a thou- 
 sand wild hopes and wishes crowded upon my fancy , at the prospect 
 which a voyage, under such auspices, presented, I descended ra- 
 pidly to the shore , and hailing one of the numerous boats that ply 
 upon the Lake for hire, arranged speedily for a passage down tin* 
 canal to the Nile. Having learned, too, from the boatmen, a more 
 easy path up the rock, I hastened back to the temple for my fair 
 charge : and without a word, a look, that could alarm, even by il> 
 kindness, or disturb that innocent confidence which she now placed 
 in me , led her down by the winding path to the boat. 
 
 Kvcry thing looked smiling around us as we embarked. The
 
 5i THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 morning was now in its first freshness , and the path of the breeze 
 might be traced over the Lake , wakening up its waters from their 
 sleep of the night. The gay , golden-winged birds that haunt these 
 shores , were , in every direction , skimming along the lake ; while , 
 with a graver consciousness of beauty , the swan and the pelican 
 were seen dressing their white plumage to the mirror of its wave. 
 To add to the animation of the scene , a sweet tinkling of musical 
 instruments came , at intervals , on the breeze , from boats at a dis- 
 tance , employed thus early in pursuing the fish of these waters , 
 that suffer themselves to be decoyed into the nets by music. 
 
 The vessel which I selected for our voyage was one of those small 
 pleasure-boats or yachts , so much in use among the luxurious na- 
 vigators of the Nile , in the centre of which rises a pavilion of 
 cedar or cypress wood , gilded gorgeously , without , with religious 
 emblems , and fitted up, within, for all the purposes of feasting and 
 repose. To the door of this pavilion 1 now led my companion, and, 
 after a few words of kindness tempered with as much respectful 
 reserve as the deep tenderness which I felt would admit of left her 
 in solitude to court that restoring rest, which the agitation of her 
 spirits but too much required. 
 
 For myself, though repose was hardly less necessary to me , the 
 ferment in which my thoughts had been kept seemed to render it 
 hopeless. Throwing myself upon the deck , under an awning which 
 the sailors had raised for me , I continued , for some hours , in a 
 sort of vague day-dream , sometimes passing in review the scenes 
 of that subterranean drama , and sometimes , with my eyes fixed in 
 drowsy vacancy , receiving passively the impressions of the bright 
 scenery through which we passed. , 
 
 The banks of the canal were then luxuriantly wooded. Under the 
 tufts of the light and towering palm were seen the orange and the 
 citron , interlacing their boughs , while , here and there , huge lama- 
 risks thickened the shade , and , at the very edge of the bank , the 
 willow of Babylon stood bending its graceful branches into the water. 
 Occasionally , out of the depth of these groves , there shone a small 
 temple or pleasure-house , while , now and then , an opening in 
 their line of foliage allowed the eye to wander over extensive fields , 
 all covered with beds of those pale , sweet roses , for which this dis- 
 trict of Egypt is so celebrated. 
 
 The activity of the morning hour was visible every where. Flights 
 of doves and lapwings were fluttering among the leaves , and the 
 white heron, which had roosted all night in some dale-tree, now 
 stood sunning its wings upon the green bank, or floated, like living 
 silver, over the flood. The flowers, too, both of land and water, 
 looked freshly awakened ; and , most of all , the superb lohis ,
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 55 
 
 which had risen with the sun from the wave , and was now holding 
 up her chalice for a full draught of his light. 
 
 Such were the scenes thai now passed before my eyep , and mingled 
 with the reveries that floated through my mind, as our boat, with 
 its high, capacious sail, swept over the flood. Though the occur- 
 rences of the last few days appeared to me one series of wonders , 
 yet by far the most miraculous wonder of all was , that she , whose 
 first look had sent wild-fire into my heart, whom I had thought 
 of ever since with a restlessness of passion , that would have dared 
 any thing on earth to obtain its object , was now sleeping sacredly 
 in that small pavilion, while guarding her, even from myself, I lay 
 calmly at its threshold. 
 
 Meanwhile, the sun had reached his meridian. The busy hum of 
 the morning had died gradually away, and all around was sleeping 
 in the hot stillness of noon. The Nile-goose, folding her splendid 
 wings , was lying motionless on the shadow of the sycamores in the 
 water. Even the nimble lizards upon the bank seemed to move more 
 languidly, as the light fell upon their gold and azure hues. Over- 
 come as I was with watching , and weary with thought, it was not 
 long before I yielded to the becalming influence of the hour. Looking 
 fixedly at the pavilion, as if once more to assure my senses , that 
 I was not already in a dream , but that the young Egyptian was 
 really there, I felt my eyes close as I looked , and in a few minutes 
 sunk into a profound sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IT was by the canal through which we now sailed , that , in the 
 more prosperous days of Memphis , the commerce of Upper Egypt 
 and Nubia was transported to her magnificent Lake, and from 
 thence, having paid tribute to the queen of cities , was poured out 
 again, through the Nile, into the ocean. The course of this canal 
 to the river was not direct, but ascending in a south-easterly direc- 
 tion towards the Said ; and in calms , or with adverse winds , the 
 passage was tedious. But as the breeze was now blowing freshly from 
 the north , there was every prospect of our reaching the river before 
 night-fall. Rapidly, too, as our galley swept along the flood, its 
 motion was so smooth as to be hardly felt ; and the quiet gurgle of 
 the waters underneath , and the drowsy song of the boatman at the 
 prow , alone disturbed the deep silence that prevailed. 
 
 The sun , indeed , had nearly sunk behind the Libyan hills, before 
 the sleep, in which these sounds lulled me , was broken : and the 
 first object on which my eyes res tod , in waking , was that fair yonn:_ 
 Priestess, scaled under a porch by which the door of the pavilion
 
 ;. THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 
 
 was shaded, and bending intently over a small volume lhat lay un- 
 rolled on her lap. 
 
 Her face was but half turned towards me , and as, once or twice , 
 she raised her eyes to the warm sky, whose light fell, softened through 
 the trellis , over her cheek , I found every feeling of reverence , with 
 which she had inspired me in the chapel , return. There was even a 
 purer and holier charm around her countenance , thus seen by the 
 natural light of day , than in those dim and unhallowed regions 
 below. She could now, loo, look direct to the glorious sky, and 
 lhat heaven and her eyes , so worthy of each other , met. 
 
 After contemplating her for a few moments , with lillle less than 
 adoration , I rose gently from my resting-place , and approached the 
 pavilion. But Ihe mere movemenl had slarlled her from her devo- 
 lion , and , blushing and confused , she covered Ihe volume with the 
 folds of her robe. 
 
 In the art of winning upon female confidence, I had long been 
 schooled ; and , now that lo Ihe lessons of gallantry Ihe inspiralion of 
 love was added , my ambition to please and to interest could hardly, 
 it may be supposed, fail of success. I soon found, however, how 
 much less fluent is Ihe heart than the fancy , and how very dislinct 
 are Ihe operations of making love and feeling it. In the few words 
 of greeting now exchanged between us , il was evident that the gay , 
 Ihe enterprising Epicurean was little less embarrassed lhan the se- 
 cluded Priestess j and. after one or two ineffectual efforts to bring 
 our voices acquainted with each other, the eyes of both turned 
 bashfully away , and we relapsed into silence. 
 
 From this situation the result of timidity on one side , and of a 
 feeling altogether new, on the other we were , at length , after an 
 interval of estrangement, relieved, by the boatmen announcing that 
 the Nile was in sight. The countenance of the young Egyptian 
 brightened at this intelligence ; and the smile with which I con- 
 gratulated her on the speed of our voyage was answered by another, 
 so full of gratitude , that already an instinctive sympathy seemed 
 established between us. 
 
 We were now on the point of entering that sacred river, of whose 
 sweet waters the exile drinks in his dreams , for a draught of whose 
 Hood the daughters of the Ptolemies , when wedded to foreign kings, 
 sighed in the midst of their splendour. As our boat , with slackened 
 sail , glided into the current , an enquiry from the boatmen , whether 
 I hey should anchor for the night in the Nile , first reminded me of 
 the ignorance , in which I still remained , with respect to either 
 the motive or destination of our voyage. Embarrassed by their 
 question , I directed my eyes towards the Priestess , whom I saw 
 wailing for my answer with a look of anxiely, which this silent
 
 THE EPICURE A V .,: 
 
 reference lo her wishes at once dispelled. Eagerly unt'ciding (he 
 volume with which I had seen her occupied , she took from its 
 folds a small leaf of papyrus, on which there appeared lo be some 
 faint lines of drawing, and after thoughtfully looking upon it, her- 
 self, for a moment , placed it, with an agitated hand, in mine. 
 
 In the mean time , the boatmen had taken in their sail , and the 
 yacht drove slowly down the river with the current, while, by a 
 light which had been kindled at sunset on the deck , I stood examin- 
 ing the leaf that the Priestess had given me , her dark eyes fixed 
 anxiously on my countenance all the while. The lines traced upon 
 the papyrus were so faint as to be almost invisible, and I was for 
 some time at a loss to divine their import. At length , I could perceh c 
 thai (hey were the outlines or map traced slightly and unsteadily 
 with a Mempbian reed of a part of that mountainous ridge by 
 which Upper Egypt is bounded to the east, together with .the 
 names, or rather emblems, of the chief towns in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 It was thither, I could not doubt, thai Ihe young Priestess wished 
 lo pursue her course. Without a moment's delay, therefore , I gave 
 orders to the boatmen to set our yacht before Ihe wind and ascend 
 the current. My command was promplly obeyed : the while sail 
 again rose inlo Ihe region of the breeze , and Ihe satisfaction lhat 
 beamed in every feature of the fair Egyptian showed that the quick- 
 ness with which I had obeyed her wishes was not unfelt by her. 
 The moon had now risen ; and , Ihough the currenl was against us , 
 the 'Etesian wind of the season blew strongly up the river, and we 
 were soon floating before it , Ihrough the rich plains and groves of 
 the Said. 
 
 The love, with which this simple girl had inspired me, was , 
 possibly from the mystic scenes and situalions in which I had seen 
 her not unmingled with a linge of superstitious awe , under Ihe 
 influence of which I fell Ihe buoyancy of my spirils checked. The 
 few words thai had passed between us on Ihe subject of our route 
 had somewhat loosened this spell ; and w hat I wanted of vivacity 
 and confidence was more than made up by the tone of deep sensibi- 
 lity which love had awakened in their place. 
 
 We had nol proceeded far, before the glittering of lights at a 
 distance, and the shooting up of fireworks, at intervals, into the 
 nir. apprised us that we were approaching one of those night-fairs, 
 or marls , which it is (he custom , at this season , lo hold upon the 
 _\ile. To me Ihe scene was familiar ; but to my young companion il 
 was evidently a new world ; and Hie mixture of alarm and delight 
 with which she gazed, from under, her veil , upon Ihe busy scene
 
 58 THE EPIC URKAN 
 
 into which we now sailed, gave an air of innocence lo her beauly, 
 which slill more heightened its every charm. 
 
 It was one of the widest parts of the river; and the whole surface, 
 from one frank (o the other, was covered with boats. Along the 
 banks of a green island, in the middle of the stream, lay anchored 
 the galleys of the principal traders , large floating bazaars, bearing 
 each the name of its owner, emblazoned in letters of flame , upon 
 the stern. Over their decks were spread out, in gay confusion, the 
 products of the loom and needle of Egypt, rich carpets of Mem- 
 phis, and those variegated veils , for which the female embroiderers 
 of the Nile are so celebrated , and to which the name of Cleopatra 
 lends a traditional value. In each of the other galleys was exhibited 
 some branch of Egyptian workmanship, vases of the fragrant por- 
 celain of On, cups of that frail crystal, whose hues change like 
 those of the pigeon's plumage, enamelled amulets graven with 
 the head of Anubis , and necklaces and bracelets of the black beans 
 of Abyssinia. 
 
 While Commerce thus displayed her luxuries in one quarter, in 
 every other direction Pleasure , multiplied into her thousand shapes, 
 swarmed over the waters. Nor was the festivity confined to the river 
 only. All along the banks of the island and on the shores, lighted 
 up mansions were seen through the trees , from which sounds of 
 music and merriment came. In some of the boats were bands of 
 minstrels, who, from time to time, answered each other, like echoes, 
 across the wave-, and the notes of the lyre, the flageolet, and the 
 sweet lotus-wood flute , were heard , in the pauses of revelry, dying 
 along the waters. 
 
 Meanwhile, from other boats stationed in the least lighted places, 
 the workers of fire sent forth their wonders into the air. Bursting 
 out from time to time , as if in the very exuberance of joy, these 
 sallies of flame seemed to reach the sky, and there breaking into a 
 shower of sparkles, shed such a splendour round, as brightened 
 even the white Arabian hills , making them shine like the brow of 
 Mount Atlas at night, when the fire from its own bosom is playing 
 around its snows. 
 
 The opportunity which this luxurious mart afforded us, of provid- 
 ing ourselves with other and less remarkable habiliments than those 
 in which we had escaped from that nether world, was too seasonable 
 not to be gladly taken advantage of by both. For myself , the strange 
 mystic garb that I wore was sufficiently concealed by my Grecian 
 mantle , which I had luckily throw n round me on the night of my 
 watch. But the thin veil of my companion was a far less efficient 
 disguise. She had, indeed, flung away the golden beetles from her
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 5!) 
 
 hair; but the sacred robe of her order was still too visible, and the 
 stars of the bandelet shone brightly through her veil. 
 
 Most gladly, therefore, did she avail herself of this opportunity 
 of a change ; and , as she took from a casket \vhich, with the vo- 
 lume I had seen her reading, appeared to be her only treasure - a 
 small jewel , to exchange for the simple garments she had chosen , 
 there fell out , at the same time , the very cross of silver which I had 
 seen her kiss , as may be remembered , in the monumental chapel , 
 and which was afterwards pressed to my own lips. This link ffor 
 such it appeared to my imagination) between us now revived in my 
 heart all the burning feelings of that moment; and, had I not 
 abruptly turned away, my agitation would, but too plainly, have 
 betrayed itself. 
 
 The object, 'for which we had delayed in this gay scene, being 
 accomplished , the sail was again spread , and we proceeded on our 
 course up the river. The sounds and the lights we left behind died 
 gradually away, and we now floated along in moonlight and silence 
 once more. Sweet dews , worthy of being called " the tears of Isis," 
 fell through the air, and every plant and flower sent its fragrance to 
 meet them. The wind , just strong enough to bear us smoothly 
 against the current, scarcely stirred the shadow of the tamarisks on 
 the water. As the inhabitants from all quarters were collected at Ihe 
 night-fair, the Nile was more than usually still and solitary. Such a 
 silence, indeed, prevailed, thai, as we glided near the shore, we 
 could hear the rustling of the acacias, as the chameleons ran up 
 their stems. It was , altogether, a night such as only the clime of 
 Egypt can boast , when every thing lies lulled in that sort of bright 
 tranquillity, which , we may imagine , shines over the sleep of those 
 happy spirits , who are supposed lo rest in the Valley of the Moon, 
 on their way to heaven. 
 
 By such a light, and at such an hour, sealed, side by side, on 
 the deck of that bark , did w r e pursue our course up the lonely Nile 
 each a mystery to the other our thoughts , our objects , our very 
 names a secret , separated , too , till now, by destinies so different, 
 the one , a gay voluptuary of the Garden of Athens , the other, a 
 secluded Priestess of the Temples of Memphis ; and the only rela- 
 tion yet established between us being that dangerous one of love, 
 passionate love, on one side , and the most feminine and confiding 
 dependence on the other. 
 
 The passing adventure of the night-fair had not only dispelled 
 still more our mutual reserve . but had supplied us with a subject 
 on which we could converse without embarrassment. From this 
 topic I took care to lead on, without interruption, lo others, 
 tearful lesl our former silence should return, and the music of her
 
 60 THE EPICURE AIS. 
 
 voice again bo lost tome. It was, indeed, only by Ihus indirectly 
 unburdening my heart lhat I was enabled lo refrain from the full 
 utterance of all I thought and fell-, and the restless rapidity with 
 which I flew from subject to subject was but an effort to escape 
 from the only one in which my heart was interested. 
 
 " How bright and happy," said I, pointing up to Sothis, the 
 fair Star of the Waters, which was just then sparkling brilliantly 
 over our heads , u How bright and happy this world ought lo be, 
 if %s your Egyptian sages assert yon pure and beautiful luminary 
 was its birth-star ! " Then , still leaning back , and letting my eyes 
 wander over the firmament , as if seeking to disengage them from 
 Ihe fascination which they dreaded "To the study (I said), for 
 ages , of skies like this , may the pensive and mystic character of 
 your nation be traced. That mixture of pride and melancholy which 
 naturally arises , at the sight of those eternal lights shining out of 
 darkness \ that sublime , but saddened , anticipation of a Future , 
 which comes over the soul in the silence of such an hour, w hen , 
 though Death seems to reign in the repose of earth , there are those 
 beacons of Immortality burning in the sky. " 
 
 Pausing, as I uttered the word "immortality," with a sigh to 
 Ihink how liltle my heart echoed to my lips , I looked in the face of 
 the maiden , and saw that it had lighted up , as I spoke , into a glow 
 of holy animation , such as Failh alone gives such as Hope herself 
 wears , when she is dreaming of heaven. Touched by the contrast , 
 and gazing upon her with mournful tenderness , I found my arms 
 half opened , to clasp her to my heart , while the words died away 
 inaudibly upon my lips, " thou , loo, beautiful maiden! must 
 thou , too , die for ever? " 
 
 My self-command, I felt, had nearly deserted me. Rising abruptly 
 from my seat , I walked to the middle of the deck , and stood , for 
 some moments, unconsciously gazing upon one of those iires, 
 which , as is the cuslom of all who travel by night upon the Nile , 
 our boatmen had just kindled , lo scare away Ihe crocodiles from 
 Ihe vessel. But it was in vain that I endeavoured to compose my 
 spirit. Every effort I made but more deeply convinced me , that , till 
 Ihe mystery which hung round that maiden should be solved lill the 
 secret, with which my own bosom laboured , should be disclosed 
 it was fruitless lo allempl even a semblance of tranquillily. 
 
 My resolulion was Iherefore taken to lay open , at least , my 
 own heart, as far as such a revelation might be risked, without 
 startling the timid innocence of my companion. Thus resolved, I 
 returned , with more composure , lo my seal by her side , and taking 
 from my bosom Ihe small mirror which she had dropped in Ihe 
 li'inple , and which 1 had ever since worn suspended round my neck , 
 
 '
 
 THE EPICUREAN. Gi 
 
 with a trembling hand presented it to her view. The boatmen had 
 just kindled one of (heir night-fires near us, and its light, as she 
 leaned forward towards the mirror, fell on her lace. 
 
 The quick blush of surprise with which she recognised it to be 
 hers , and her look of bashful . yet eager, inquiry, in raising her 
 eyes to mine, were appeals to which I was not, of course, slow in 
 answering. Beginning with the first moment when I saw her in the 
 temple, and passing hastily, but with words which burned as lhe\ 
 went , over the impression which she had then left upon my heart 
 and fancy, I proceeded to describe the particulars of my descent into 
 the pyramid my surprise and adoration at the door of the chapel 
 my encounter with the Trials of Initiation , so mysteriously pre- 
 pared for me , and all the various visionary wonders I had witnessed 
 in that region , till the moment when I had seen her stealing from 
 under Uie Veils to approach me. 
 
 Though, in detailing these events, I had said but little of the 
 feelings they had awakened in me , though my lips had sent back 
 many a sentence , unu tiered , there was still enough that coul.l 
 neither be subdued or disguised , and which , like that light from 
 under the veils of her own Isis, glowed through every word thai I 
 spoke. When I told of the scene in the chapel , of the silent inter- 
 view which I had witnessed between the dead and the living , the 
 maiden leaned down her head and wept , as from a heart full of 
 (ears, ll seemed a pleasure to her, however, to listen 5 and, when 
 she looked at me again . there was an earnest and affectionate cor- , 
 dialily in her eyes , as if the knowledge of my having been present 
 at that mournful scene had opened a new source of sympathy and 
 intelligence between us. So neighbouring are the fountains of Love 
 and of Sorrow , and so imperceptibly do they often mingle their 
 streams. 
 
 Little , indeed , as I was guided by art or design , in my manner 
 and conduct to this innocent girl , not all the most experienced gal- 
 lantry of the Garden could have dictated a policy half so seductive 
 as that which my new master, Love , now taught me. The ardour 
 which , show n at once , and without reserve , might have startled a 
 heart so little prepared for it, thus checked and softened by the 
 timidity of real love , won its way without alarm , and , when most 
 diffident of success , most triumphed. Like one whose sleep is gra- 
 dually broken by music , the maiden's heart was awakened without 
 being disturbed. She followed the charm , unconscious whither it 
 led , nor was aware of the flame she had lighted in another's boson, 
 till she perceived the reflection of it glimmering in her own. 
 
 Impatient as I was to appeal to her generosity and sympathy, for 
 a similar proof of confiden^ TO that which I had just given , the
 
 tt THB: EPICUREAN. 
 
 night was now loo far advanced for me to impose such a Risk upon 
 her. Afler exchanging a few w ords , in which , though little was said , 
 there was a tone and manner that spoke far more than language , we 
 took a lingering leave of each other for the night, with e\m 
 prospect of still being together in our dreams. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IT was so near the dawn of day when we parted , that we again 
 found the sun sinking westward when we rejoined each other. The 
 smile with which she met me, so frankly cordial. might have 
 been taken for the greeting of a long mellowed friendship , did not 
 the blush and the cast-dow n eyelid , that followed , give symptoms 
 of a feeling newer and less calm. For myself, lightened as I was, in 
 some degree , by the confession which I had made , I w as yet too 
 conscious of the new aspect thus given to our intercourse , to feel 
 altogether unembarrassed at the prospect of returning to the theme. 
 It was , therefore , willingly that we suffered our attention to be di- 
 verted , by the variety of objects that presented themselves on the 
 way, from a subject that both equally trembled to approach. 
 
 The river was now full of life and motion. Every moment we met 
 with boats descending the current , 5*0 independent of aid from sail 
 or oar, that the sailors sal idly upon the deck as they shot along , 
 singing or playing upon their double-reeded pipes. Of these boats , 
 the greater number came loaded with merchandise from Coptos , 
 some with those large emeralds , from the mine in the desert , 
 whose colours , it is said , are brightest at the full of the moon , and 
 some laden with frankincense from the acacia-groves near the Red 
 Sea. On the decks of others, that had been to the Golden Mountains 
 beyond Syene, were heaped blocks and fragments of thai swoel- 
 smelling wood , which the Green Nile of Nubia washes down in the 
 season of the floods. 
 
 Our companions up the stream were far less numerous. Occa- 
 sionally a boat, returning lightened from the fair of last night, with 
 those high sails that catch every breeze from over the hills , shot past 
 us , while, now and then , we overlook one of those barges full of 
 bees , that at this season of the year, are sent lo colonise the gardens 
 of the south , and take advantage of the first flowers after the inunda- 
 tion has passed away. 
 
 By these various objects we were for a short time enabled to divert 
 the conversation from lighting and settling upon the one subject , 
 round which it continually hovered. But the effort, as might be 
 expected, was not long successful. As evening advanced , the whole
 
 THE EPICUREAN. (;:; 
 
 scene became more solitary. We less frequently ventured to look 
 upon each other, and our intervals of silence grew more long. 
 
 It was near sunset , when , in passing a small temple on the shore , 
 whose porticoes were now full of the evening light , we saw , issuing 
 from a thicket of acanthus near it , a train of young maids linked 
 together in the dance by lotus-stems , held at arms 1 length between 
 them. Their tresses were also wreathed with this emblem of the 
 season , and such a profusion of the white flowers were twisted 
 round their waists and arms , that they might have been taken , as 
 they gracefully bounded along the bank , for Nymphs of the Nile , 
 risen freshly from their gardens under the wave. 
 
 After looking for a few moments at this sacred dance , the maid 
 turned away her eyes , with a look of pain , as if the remembrances it 
 recalled were of no welcome nature. This momentary retrospect , 
 this glimpse into the past , seemed to offer a sort of clue to the secret 
 for which I panted ; and , gradually and delicately as my impa- 
 tience would allow , I availed myself of it. Her frankness , however, 
 saved me the embarrassment of much questioning. She even seemed 
 to feel that the confidence I sought was due to me, and, beyond the 
 natural hesitation of maidenly modesty, not a shade of reserve or 
 evasion appeared. 
 
 To attempt to repeat , in her own touching words , the simple 
 story which she now related to me , w ? ould be like endeavouring to 
 note down some strain of unpremeditated music , w ith those fugitive 
 graces , those felicities of the moment, which no art can restore, as 
 they first met the ear. From a feeling, too, of humility, she had 
 omitted in her narrative some particulars relating to herself, which 
 I afterwards learned-, while others, not less important, she but 
 slightly passed over, from a fear of wounding the prejudices of her 
 heathen hearer. 
 
 I shall , therefore , give her story as the outline which she herself 
 sketched was afterwards filled up by a pious and venerable hand 
 far, far more worthy than mine of being associated with the memory 
 of such purity. 
 
 STORY OF ALETHE. 
 
 " The mother of this maiden was the beautiful Theora of Alexan- 
 dria , who , though a native of that city, was descended from Grecian 
 parents. When very young, Theora was one of the seven maiden* 
 selected to note down the discourses of the eloquent Origen , who , 
 at that period, presided over the School of Alexandria, and was in 
 all the fulness of his fame , both among Pagans and Christians. 
 Endowed richly with the learning of both creeds , he brought the
 
 ui THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 natural light of philosophy to elucidate the mysteries of faith , and 
 was only proud of his knowledge of the wisdom of this world , 
 inasmuch as it ministered to the triumph of divine truth. 
 
 "Though he had courted in vain the crown of martyrdom, it 
 was held , throughout his life , suspended o^er his head -, and in 
 more than one persecution he had evinced his readiness to die for 
 that faith which he lived but to testify and adorn. On one of these 
 occasions, his tormentors, having habited him like an Egyptian 
 priest, placed him upon the steps of the temple of Serapis, and 
 commanded that he should , in the manner of the Pagan ministers , 
 present palm-branches to the multitude who went up to the shrine. 
 But the courageous Christian disappointed their views. Holding 
 forth the branches with en unshrinking hand, he cried aloud, 
 w Come hither and take the branch , not of an Idol Temple , but of 
 Christ. ' 
 
 " So indefatigable was this learned Father in his studies , that , 
 while composing his Commentary on the Scriptures, he was attend- 
 ed by seven scribes or notaries , who relieved each other in taking 
 down the dictates of his eloquent tongue ; while the same number of 
 young females , selected for the beauty of their penmanship , were 
 employed in arranging and transcribing the precious leaves. 
 
 ''Among the scribes so selected was the fair young Theora, 
 whose parents , though attached to the Pagan worship , were not 
 unwilling to profit by the accomplishments of their daughter, thus 
 devoted to a task which they considered purely mechanical. To the 
 maid herself, however, her task brought far other feelings and con-' 
 sequences. She read anxiously as she wrote, and the divine truths, 
 so eloquently illustrated , found their way , by degrees , from the 
 page to her heart. Deeply , too , as the WTilten words affected her , 
 the discourses from the lips of the great teacher himself, which she 
 had frequent opportunities of hearing , sunk still more deeply into 
 her mind. There was at once a sublimity and gentleness in his views 
 of religion, which, to the tender hearts and lively imaginations of 
 women , never failed to appeal with convincing power. Accordingly, 
 the list of his female pupils was numerous : and the names of Bar- 
 bara, Juliana, Herais, and others, bear honourable testimony to 
 his influence over that sex. 
 
 " To Theora , the feeling with which his discourses inspired her 
 was like a new soul, a consciousness of spiritual existence unfell 
 before. By the eloquence of the comment she was awakened into 
 admiration of the text ; and when , by the kindness of a Catechumen 
 of the school , who had been struck by her innocent zeal , she , for 
 the first time , became possessor of a copy of the Scriptures , she 
 could not sleep for thinking of her sacred treasure. With a mixture
 
 THE EPICUREAN. i,., 
 
 ;>t pleasure and fear she liid it from all eyes, and was like one wh 
 had received a divine guest under her roof, and fell fearful of be- 
 traying its divinity to the world. 
 
 - A heart so awake would have been easily secured to the faith . 
 had her opportunities of hearing the sacred word continued. But 
 circumstances arose to deprive her of this advantage. The mild 
 Origen , long harassed and thwarted in his labours by the tyranny of 
 the Bishop of Alexandria , Demetrius , was obliged to relinquish his 
 school and fly from Egypt. The occupation of the fair scribe was , 
 therefore, at an end : her intercourse with the followers of the new 
 faith ceased-, and the growing enthusiasm of her heart gave way to 
 more worldly impressions. 
 
 "Love , among the rest, had its share in alienating her thoughts 
 from religion. While still very young, she became the wife of a 
 Greek adventurer, who had come to Egypt as a purchaser of that 
 rich tapestry , in which the needles of Persia are rivalled by the 
 looms of the Nile. Having taken his young bride to Memphis, which 
 was still the great mart of this merchandise, he there, in the midst 
 of his speculations, died, leaving his widow on the point of be- 
 < tuning a mother, while , as yet , but in her nineteenth year. 
 
 " For single and unprotected females, it has been at all times a 
 favourite resource, to seek admission into the service of some of 
 those great temples . which absorb so much of the wealth and power 
 of Egypt. In most of these institutions there exists an order of Priest- 
 esses, which, though not hereditary, like that of the Priests, is 
 provided for by ample endow ments , and confers that rank and sta- 
 tion with which, in a government so theocratic, Religion is sure to 
 invest even her humblest handmaids. From the general policy of 
 the Sacred College of Memphis , it may be concluded that an ac- 
 complished female, like Theora, found but little difficulty in being 
 chosen one of the Priestesses of Isis $ and it was in the service of the 
 subterranean shrines that her ministry chiefly lay. 
 
 " Here, a month or two after her admission, she gave birth to 
 Alethe , who first opened her eyes among the unholy pomps and 
 specious miracles of this mysterious region. Though Theora , as \\e 
 have seen , had been diverted by other feelings from her first enthu- 
 siasm for the Christian faith , she had never wholly forgot the im- 
 pression then made upon her. The sacred volume , which the pious 
 Catechumen had given her , was still treasured with care ; and , 
 though she seldom opened its pages, there was an idea of sanctity 
 associated with it in her memory , and often would she sit to look 
 upon it with reverential pleasure, recalling the happiness she felt 
 when it was first made her own. 
 
 ' The leisure of her new retreat, and the lone melancholy of
 
 60 THE EPICUREAN 
 
 widowhood, led her still more frequently to indulge in such thoughts, 
 and to recur to those consoling truths which she had heard in the 
 school of Alexandria. She now began to peruse eagerly the sacred 
 book , drinking deep of the fountain of which she before but lasted , 
 and feeling what thousands of mourners, since her, have felt 
 that Christianity is the true religion of the sorrowful. 
 
 tf This study of her secret hours became still more dear to her , 
 from the peril with which, at thai period, it was attended, and the 
 necessity she was under of concealing from those around her the 
 precious light that had been kindled in her heart. Too timid to en- 
 counter the fierce persecution, which awaited all who were suspected 
 of a leaning to Christianity , she continued to officiate in the pomps 
 and ceremonies of the temple ; though , often , with such remorse of 
 soul , that she w ould pause , in the midst of the rites , and pray 
 inwardly to God , that he would forgive this profanation of his 
 Spirit. 
 
 " In the mean lime her daughter , the young Alelhe , grew up 
 still lovelier than herself , and added , every hour , to her happiness 
 and her fears. When arrived at a sufficient age , she was taught, like 
 the other children of Hie priestesses, to take a share in the service 
 and ceremonies of the shrines. The duty of some of these young 
 servitors was to look afler the flowers for the altar -, of others , to 
 take care thai the sacred vases were filled every day with fresh water 
 from the Nile. The lask of some was to preserve , in perfect polish , 
 those silver images of the moon which the priests carried in proces- 
 sions 5 while others were , as we have seen , employed in feeding the 
 consecrated animals, and in keeping their plumes and scales bright, 
 for the admiring eyes of their worshippers. 
 
 "The office allotted to Alethe the most honorable of Ihese 
 minor ministries was to wait upon the sacred birds of Ihe moon , 
 to feed mem with Ihosc eggs from the Nile which they loved , and 
 provide for their use that purest waler , which alone these delicate 
 birds will touch. This employment was the delight of her childish 
 hours ; and that ibis, which Alciphron (the Epicurean) saw her 
 dance round in Ihc temple, was her favourite f of all Ihe sacred 
 ilock , and had been daily fondled and fed by her from infancy. 
 
 " Music , as being one of the chief spells of this enchanted region, 
 was an accomplishment required of all its minislranls ; and the harp, 
 Ihe lyre, and the sacred flute , sounded no where so sweetly as that 
 through these subterranean gardens. The chief object, indeed, in 
 the education of the youth of the lemple, was lo fit them , by every 
 grace of art and nature, to give effect to Ihe illusion of those shows 
 and phantasms , in which the whole charm and secret of Inilia- 
 Uon lay.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 67 
 
 " Among Ihc means employed lo support the old system of su- 
 perstition , against the infidelity and , still more the new faith that 
 menaced it, was an increased display of splendour and marvels in 
 those mysteries for which Egypt has so long been celebrated. Of 
 these ceremonies so many imitations had , under various names , 
 been multiplied through Europe, that the parent superstition ran 
 a risk of being eclipsed by its progeny ; and , in order still to retain 
 the rank of the first Priesthood in the w orld, those of Egypt found it 
 necessary lo continue still the best impostors. 
 
 "Accordingly, every contrivance that art could devise, or la- 
 bour execulc every resource that the wonderful knowledge of the 
 Priests, in pyrotechny, mechanics, and dioptrics, could com- 
 mand, was brought into action to heighten the effect of their Mys- 
 teries , and give an air of enchantment to every thing connected 
 with them. 
 
 " The final scene of beatification the Elysium , into which the 
 Initiate was received, formed, of course, the leading attraction 
 of these ceremonies; and to render it captivating alike lo the senses 
 of Ihe man of pleasure, and the imagination of the spiritualist, 
 was the object to which the whole skill and attention of the Sacred 
 College were devoted. By the influence of the Priests of Memphis 
 over those of the other temples, they had succeeded in extending 
 their subterranean frontier, both to the north and south , so as to 
 include, within their ever-lighted Paradise, some of the gardens 
 rvcavatcd for the use of the other Twelve Shrines. 
 
 "The beauty of the young Alethe, the touching sweetness of 
 her voice, and the sensibility that breathed throughout her every 
 look and movement, rendered her a powerful auxiliary in such 
 appeals to the imagination. She was , accordingly, from her child- 
 hood , selected from among her fair companions , as the most 
 worthy representative of spiritual loveliness, in those pictures of 
 Elysium those scenes of another world by which not only the 
 fancy, but the reason, of the excited Aspirants was dazzled. 
 
 " To the innocent child herself these shows were pastime. But 
 to Theora , who knew too well the imposition to which they were 
 subservient , this profanation of all that she loved was a perpetual 
 source of horror and remorse. Often would she when Alelhe 
 stood smiling before her, arrayed , perhaps , as a spirit of the Ely- 
 sian world, turn away, with a shudder, from the happy child , 
 almost fancying that she already saw the shadows of sin descending 
 over that innocent brow , as she gazed on it. 
 
 ;t As the intellect of the young maid became more active and 
 inquiring , the apprehensions and difficulties of the mother increased. 
 Afraid to communicate her own precious secret, lest she should
 
 G8 THE EPICURF \\ 
 
 involve her child in (lie dangers that encompassed it, she yet Ml 
 it to be no le>s a cruelty than a crime to leave her wholly immersed 
 in the darkness of Paganism. In this dilemma, the only resource 
 that remained to her was to select, and disengage from the dross 
 that surrounded them, those pure particles of truth which lie at 
 the bottom of all religions ; those feelings, rather than doctrines , 
 which God has never left his creatures without, and which, in al! 
 ages, have furnished, to those who sought it, some clue to his 
 glory. 
 
 " The unity and perfect goodness of the Creator; the fall of the 
 human soul into corruption -, its struggles with the darkness of this 
 world, and its final redemption and re-ascent to the source of all 
 spirit ; these natural solutions of the problem of our existence , 
 these elementary grounds of all religion and virtue, which Theora 
 had heard illustrated by her Christian teacher, lay also, she knew, 
 veiled under the theology of Egypt; and to impress them, in all 
 their abstract purity, upon the mind of her susceptible pupil , was , 
 in default of more heavenly lights , her sole ambition and care. 
 
 " It was their habit, after devoting their mornings to the service 
 of the Temple, to pass their evenings and nights in one of those 
 small mansions above ground , allotted to some of the most favoured 
 Priestesses , in the precincts of the Sacred College. Here , out of 
 the reach of those gross superstitions , which pursued them , at 
 every step , below, she endeavoured to inform, as far as she might , 
 the mind of her beloved girl ; and found it lean as naturally and 
 instinctively to truth, as plants that have been long shut up in 
 darkness will, when light is let in , incline themselves to its ray. 
 
 "Frequently, as they sat together on the terrace at night, con- 
 templating that assembly of glorious stars, whose beauty first misled 
 mankind into idolatry, she would explain to the young listener by 
 what gradations it was that the worship , thus transferred from the 
 Creator to the creature, sunk lower and lower in the scale of 
 being, till man, at length, presumed to deify man, and by the 
 most monstrous of inversions , heaven was made the mirror of 
 earth, reflecting all its most earthly features. 
 
 " Even in the temple itself, the anxious mother would endeavour 
 to interpose her purer lessons among the idolatrous ceremonies in 
 which they were engaged. When the favourite ibis of Alethe took 
 its station on the shrine, and the young maiden was seen ap- 
 proaching, with all the gravity of worship, the very bird which she 
 had played with but an hour before , when the acacia-bough , 
 which she herself had plucked , seemed to acquire a sudden sa- 
 credness in her eyes, as soon as the priest had breathed on it, on 
 all such occasions Theora, though with fear and trembling, would
 
 THK KP1CI I;.- 
 
 M'nlure !o suggest to the youllil'iil worshipper the distinction that 
 should be drawn between the sensible object of adoration , and 
 that spiritual , unseen Deily, of which it was but the remembrancer 
 or type. 
 
 " With sorrow, however, she soon discovered that, in thus but 
 partially enlightening a mind too ardent to be satisfied with such 
 glimmerings, she only bewildered the heart that she meant to guide, 
 and cut down the hope round which its faith twined, without 
 substituting any other support in its place. As the beauty , too, of 
 Aletlie began to attract all eyes , new fears crowded upon the 
 mother's heart , fears , in which she was but loo much justified by 
 the characters of some of those around her. 
 
 "In this sacred abode , as may easily be conceived , morality did 
 not always go hand in hand with religion. The hypocritical and am- 
 bitious Orcus , who was , at this period , High Priest of Memphis , 
 was a man , in every respect , qualified to preside over a system of 
 such splendid fraud. He had reached that effective lime of life, when 
 enough of the warmth of youth remains to give animation to the 
 counsels of age. But in his instance , youth had only the baser 
 passions to bequeath, while age but contributed a more refined 
 maturity of mischief. The advantages of a faith appealing so wholly 
 to the senses , were well understood by him ; nor was he ignorant 
 that the only way of making religion subservient to his own interests 
 was by shaping it adroitly to the passions of others. 
 
 " The slate of misery and remorse in which Ihe mind of Theora 
 was kept by the scenes , however veiled by hypocrisy, which she 
 witnessed around her, became at length intolerable. No perils that 
 the cause of truth could bring w ith it would be half so dreadful as 
 this endurance of sinfulness and deceit. Her child was , as yet, pure 
 and innocent; but, without that sentinel of the soul, Religion, 
 how long might she continue so? 
 
 " This thought at" once decided her; all other fears vanished 
 before it. She resolved instantly to lay open to Alelhc the whole 
 secret of her soul ; to make her, who was her only hope on earth , 
 the sharer of all her hopes in heaven , and then fly with her, as soon 
 as possible , from this unhallowed place , to Ihe desert to the 
 mountains to any place , however desolate , where God and the 
 consciousness of innocence might be with them. 
 
 " The promptitude with which her young pupil caught from her 
 Ihe divine truths , was even beyond what she expected. It was like 
 the lighting of one torch at another, so prepared was'Alclhe's 
 mind for the illumination. Amply was the mother now repaid for 
 all her misery, by this perfect communion of love and faith , and 
 h\ Ihe delight with which she saw her beloved child like the young
 
 70 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 antelope, when first led by her dam to the well, drink thirstily by 
 her side, at the source of all life and truth. 
 
 " But such happiness was not long to last. The anxieties that 
 Theora had suffered preyed upon her health. She felt her strength 
 daily decline ; and the thoughts of leaving , alone and unguarded 
 in the world, that treasure which she had just devoted to heaven , 
 gave her a feeling of despair which but hastened Ihe ebb of life. Had 
 she put in practice her resolution of flying from this place, her child 
 might have been now beyond the reach of all she dreaded , and in 
 the solitude of the wilderness would have found at least safety from 
 wrong. But the very happiness she had felt in her new task di- 
 verted her from this project ; and it was now too late , for she was 
 already dying. 
 
 "She concealed, however, her state from the tender and san- 
 guine girl , who , though she saw the traces of disease on her 
 mother's cheek , little knew that they were the hastening footsteps 
 of death , nor thought even of the possibility of losing what was so 
 dear to her. Too soon, however, the moment of separation arrived \ 
 and while the anguish and dismay of Alethe were in proportion to 
 the security in which she had indulged , Theora , loo , felt with 
 bitter regret , that she had sacrificed to her fond consideration much 
 precious time , and that there now remained but a few brief and 
 painful moments , for (he communication of all those wishes and 
 instructions , on which the future destiny of the young orphan 
 depended. 
 
 " She had, indeed , time for little more than to place the sacred 
 volume solemnly in her hands , to implore that she would , at all 
 risks , fly from this unholy place , and , pointing in the direction of 
 the mountains of the Said , to name, with her last breath, the holy 
 man , to whom, under heaven, she trusted for the protection and sal- 
 vation of her child. 
 
 " The first violence of feeling to which Alethe gave way was 
 succeeded by a fixed and tearless grief , which rendered her insen- 
 sible, for some time, to the dangers of her situation. Her only 
 comfort was in visiting that monumental chapel, where the beautiful 
 remains of Theora lay. There, night after night , in contemplation 
 of those placid features , and in prayers for the peace of the departed 
 spirit , did she pass her lonely, and sad as they were happiest 
 hours. Though the mystic emblems that decorated that chapel were 
 but ill suited to the slumber of a Christian saint, there was one 
 among them , the Cross , which , by a remarkable coincidence , is 
 an emblem common alike to the Gentile and the Christian , being, 
 to the former, a shadowy type of that immortality, of which, to the 
 latter, it is a substantial and assuring pledge.
 
 1HE EPICUREAN. 71 
 
 JNightly upon this cross, which she had often seen her lost 
 mother kiss, did she breathe forth a solemn and heartfelt vow, 
 never lo abandon the faith which that departed spirit had bequeathed 
 to her. To such enthusiasm , indeed , did her heart at such mo- 
 ments rise, that, but for the lasl injunctions from those pallid lips, 
 she would , at once , have avowed her perilous secret , and spoken 
 out the words , 1 1 am Christian ,' among those benighted shrines ! 
 
 " But the will of her, lo whom she owed more than life, was lo 
 be obeyed. To escape from this haunt of superstition must now, 
 she fell, be her first object; and, in devising the means of effect- 
 ing it, her mind, day and night, was employed. It was with a 
 loathing not to be concealed she now found herself compelled lo 
 resume her idolatrous services at the shrine. To some of the offices 
 of Theora she succeeded , as is Ihe custom , by inheritance ; and in 
 the performance of these sanctified as they were in her eyes by 
 Ihe pure spirit she had seen engaged in them there 'was a sort of 
 melancholy pleasure in which her sorrow found relief. But tin- pail 
 >lie was again forced lo lake, in the scenic shows of the Mysteries, 
 brought with it a sense of wrong and degradation which she could no 
 longer bear. 
 
 " She had already formed, in her own mind , a plan of escape, 
 in which her knowledge of all the windings of this subterranean 
 realm gave her confidence . when the reception of Alciphron , as an 
 Initiate, took place. 
 
 " From the first moment of the landing of thai philosopher at 
 Alexandria , he had become an object of suspicion and watchfulness 
 to the inquisitorial Orcus, whom philosophy, in any shape, natu- 
 rally alarmed , but to whom the seel over which Ihe young Athenian 
 presided was particularly obnoxious. The accomplishments of 
 Alciphron, his popularity , wherever he went, and Ihe freedom 
 with which he indulged his wit al Ihe expense of religion , was all 
 faithfully reported lo the High Priest by his spies, and stirred up 
 within him no kindly feelings towards the stranger. In dealing with 
 an infidel , such a personage as Orcus could know no alternative 
 but that of either converting or destroying him } and (hough his 
 spile , as a man , would have been more gratified by the latlcr pro- 
 ceeding , his pride , as a priesl , led him lo prefer Ihe triumph of 
 the former. 
 
 The first descent of the Epicurean into the pyramid was speedily 
 known , and the alarm immediately given to the priesls below. As 
 soon as it was discovered that the young philosopher of Alhen> was 
 the intruder, and thai he still continued to linger round the py- 
 ramid, looking often and wistfully towards the portal , it was con- 
 cluded that his curiosily would impel him to try a second descent ,
 
 72 THE EPICURE AW. 
 
 and Orcus , blessing the good chance which had thus brought HIP 
 wild bird to his net , determined not to allow an opportunity so pre- 
 cious to be wasted. 
 
 "Instantly, the whole of that wonderful machinery, by which 
 the phantasms and illusions of Initiation are produced . were 
 put in active preparation throughout that subterranean realm 5 and 
 the increased stir and watchfulness excited among its inmates. 
 by this more than ordinary display of all the resources of priestcraft, 
 rendered the accomplishment of Alethe's design , at such a moment, 
 peculiarly difficult. Wholly ignorant of the share which had fallen 
 to herself in attracting the young philosopher down to this region , 
 she but heard of him vaguely, as the Chief of a great Grecian sect, 
 who had been led , by either curiosity or accident, to expose himself 
 to the first trials of Initiation , and whom the priests, she saw, were 
 endeavouring to ensnare in their toils, by every art and skill wilh 
 whiehUheir science of darkness had gifted them. 
 
 " To her mind , the image of a philosopher such as Alciphron 
 had been represented to her, came associated with ideas of age and 
 reverence $ and , more than once , the possibility of his being made 
 instrumental to her deliverance flashed a hope across her heart in 
 which she could not help indulging. Often had she been told by 
 Theora of the many Gentile sages , who had laid their wisdom down 
 humbly at the foot of the Cross j and though this Initiate, she 
 feared, could hardly be among the number, yet the rumours which 
 she had gathered from the servants of the temple , of his undisguised 
 contempt for the errors of heathenism , led her to hope she might 
 find tolerance , if not sympathy, in her appeal to him. 
 
 " Nor was it solely with a view to her own chance of deliverance 
 that she thus connected him in her thoughts with the plan which she 
 meditated. The look of proud and self-gratulating malice , wilh 
 which the High Priest had mentioned this ' infidel , ' as he styled 
 him , when instructing her in the scene she was to enact before the 
 philosopher in the valley, but too plainly informed her of the destiny 
 that hung over him. She knew how many were the hapless can- 
 didates for Initiation , who had been doomed to a durance worse than 
 that of the grave , for but a word , a whisper breathed against the 
 sacred absurdities which they witnessed ; and it was evident to her 
 that the venerable Greek ( for such her fancy represented Alciphron) 
 was no less interested in escaping from this region than herself. 
 
 "Her own resolution was, at all events, fixed. That visionary 
 scene , in which she had appeared before Alciphron , little knowing 
 how ardent were the heart and imagination, over which her beauty, 
 at that moment, shed its whole influence, was, she solemnly re-
 
 THE EPiCLRI 7 '. 
 
 solved , llic very last unholy service that superstition or imposture 
 should ever command of her. 
 
 " On the following night the Aspirant was to watch in the Great 
 Temple oflsis. Such an opportunity of approaching and addressing 
 him might never come again. Should he, from compassion for her 
 situation, or a sense of the danger of his own , consent to lend his 
 aid to her flight, most gladly would she accept it, assured that no 
 danger or treachery she might risk could be half so dreadful as those 
 she left behind. Should he, on the contrary, refuse, her determina- 
 tion was equally fixed-^lo trust to that God who watches over the 
 innocent, and go forth alone. 
 
 " To reach the island in Lake 3Io?ris was her first object , and 
 there occurred luckily, at this time , a mode of accomplishing if , by 
 which the difficulty and dangers of the attempt would be , in a great 
 degree, diminished. The day of the annual visitation of the High 
 Priest to the Place of Weeping as that island in the centre of the 
 lake is called was now fast approaching ; and Alethe well knew 
 that the self-moving car, by which the High Priest and one of the 
 Hierophants are conveyed to the chambers under the lake, stood 
 waiting in readiness. By availing herself of this expedient, she 
 would gain the double advantage both of facilitating her own flight 
 and retarding the speed of her pursuers. 
 
 " Having paid a last visit to the tomb of her beloved mother, and 
 wept there , long and passionately, till her heart almost failed in the 
 struggle , having paused , too , to give a kiss to her favourite ibis , 
 which , though too much a Christian to worship , she was still child 
 enough to love, with a trembling step she went early to the 
 Sanctuary, and hid herself in one of the recesses of the Shrine. Her 
 intention was to steal out from thence to Alciphron , while it was 
 yet dark , and before the illumination of the great Statue behind the 
 A eils had begun. But her fears delayed her till it was almost too late; 
 already was the image lighted up , and still she remained trem- 
 bling in her hiding place. 
 
 " In a few minutes more the mighty Veils would have been 
 withdrawn , and the glories of that scene of enchantment laid open , 
 when, at length , summoning up courage, and taking advantage 
 of a momentary absence of those employed in the preparations of 
 this splendid mockery, she stole from under the Veil and found her 
 way. through the gloom, to the Epicurean. There "was then no time 
 for explanation ; she had but to trust to the simple words , ' Fol- 
 low, and be silent ;" and the implicit readiness with which she 
 found them obeyed filled her w ith no less surprise than the philoso- 
 pher himself fell in hearing them. 
 
 " In a second or two they were on their way through the subter-
 
 74 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 rancan windings , leaving the ministers of Isis lo waste (heir splen- 
 dours on vacancy, through a long series of miracles and visions 
 which they now exhibited, unconscious that he, whom they look 
 such pains lo dazzle , was already, under the guidance of the young 
 Christian, removed beyond the reach of their spells. M 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SUCH was the story, of which this innocent girl gave me, in her 
 own touching language , the outline. 
 
 The sun was just rising as she finished her narrative. Fearful of 
 encountering the expression of those feelings with which , she 
 could not but observe , I was affected by her recilal , scarcely had 
 she concluded Ihe last sentence , when , rising abruptly from her 
 seat, she hurried into the pavilion, leaving me with the words 
 already crowding for utterance lo my lips. 
 
 Oppressed by the various emolions, thus sent back upon my 
 heart , I lay down on the deck in a state of agilalion , lhat defied 
 even the most distant approaches of sleep. While every word she 
 had uttered , every feeling she expressed , but minislercd new fuel 
 to that flame within me , to describe which , passion is too weak a 
 word , there was also much of her recital lhat disheartened , that 
 alarmed me. To find a Christian thus under the garb of a Mcmphian 
 Priestess , was a discovery that , had my heart been less deeply 
 interested , would but have more powerfully stimulated my imagi- 
 nation and pride. Bui , when I recollected Ihe austerity of the faith 
 she had embraced , the tender and sacred tie , associated with it 
 in her memory, and the devotion of woman's heart to objects thus 
 consecrated , her very perfections but widened the distance be- 
 tween us, and all lhat most kindled my passion at Ihe same lime 
 chilled my hopes. 
 
 Were we left to each other , as on this silenl river, in this undis- 
 turbed communion of thoughts and feelings , I knew too well , I 
 thought , both her sex's nature and my own , to feel a doubt that 
 love would ultimately triumph. But Ihe severity of the guardian- 
 ship lo which I must resign her, some monk of Ihe deserl , some 
 stern Solitary, the influence such a monitor would gain over her 
 mind, and the horror with which, ere long, she would be taught 
 to regard the reprobate infidel on whom she now smiled , in all 
 this prospect I saw nothing but despair. After a few short hours, 
 my happiness would be at an end , and such a dark chasm opened 
 faclween our fates, as must sever them , far as earlh is from hea>en, 
 asunder. 
 
 It was Irue , she was now wholly in my power. I feared no wit-
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 75 
 
 nesses but those of earth , and the solitude of the desert was at 
 hand. But though I acknowledged not a heaven , I worshipped her 
 who was, to me, its type and substitute. If, at any moment, a 
 single thought of wrong or deceit , towards a creature so sacred , 
 arose in my mind , one look from her innocent eyes averted the 
 sacrilege. Even passion itself felt a holy fear in her presence, like 
 the flame trembling in the breeze of the sanctuary, and Love, 
 pure Love , stood in place of Religion. 
 
 As long as I knew not her story, I might indulge , at least , in 
 dreams of the future. But , now what hope , what prospect re- 
 mained? My sole chance of happiness lay in the feeble hope of 
 beguiling away her thoughts from the plan which she meditated ; 
 of weaning her, by persuasion, from that austere faith, which 1 
 had before haled and now feared , and of attaching her, perhaps , 
 alone and unlinked as she was in the world , to my own fortunes 
 for ever ! 
 
 In the agitation of these thoughts , I had started from my rest- 
 ing-place , and continued to pace up and down , under a burning 
 sun , till , exhausted both by thought and feeling , I sunk down , 
 amid its blaze, into a sleep, which, to my fevered brain, seemed 
 a sleep of fire. 
 
 On awaking , I found the veil of Alethe laid carefully over my 
 brow, while she, herself, sat near me, under the shadow ofthe 
 sail , looking anxiously at that leaf, which her mother had given 
 her, and apparently employed in comparing its outlines with the 
 course of the river and the forms of the rocky hills by which we 
 passed. She looked pale and troubled, and rose eagerly to meet me, 
 as if she had long and impatiently wailed for my waking. 
 
 Her heart, it was plain, had been dislurbcd from its security, 
 and was beginning to take alarm at its own feelings. But, though 
 vaguely conscious of the peril to which she was exposed , her re- 
 liance , as is usually the case , increased with her danger, and on me, 
 far more than on herself, did she depend for saving her from it. To 
 reach, as soon as possible, her asylum in the desert, was now (he 
 urgent object of her entreaties and wishes ; and the self-reproach 
 she expressed at having permitted her thoughts to be diverted , for 
 a single moment, from this sacred purpose, not only revealed the 
 truth , that she had forgotten it , but betrayed even a glimmering 
 consciousness of the cause. 
 
 Her sleep, she said, had been broken by ill-omened dreams. Every 
 moment the shade of her mother had stood before her, rebuking 
 her, with mournful looks , for her delay, and pointing, as she had 
 done in death, to the eastern hills. Bursting into tears at this accu- 
 sing recollection , she hastily placed the leaf, which she had been
 
 76 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 examining, in my hands , and implored thai 1 would ascertain . 
 without a moment's delay, what portion of our voyage was still 
 unperformed , and in what space of lime we might hope to accom- 
 plish it. 
 
 I had, still less than herself, taken note of cither place or distance; 
 and, had we been left to glide on in this dream of happiness, 
 should never have thought of pausing to ask where it would end. 
 But such confidence, I felt, was too sacred to be deceived. Reluc- 
 tant as I was , naturally, to enter on an inquiry, which might so 
 soon dissipate even my last hope , her wish was sufficient to supersede 
 even the selfishness of love , and on the instant I proceeded to obey 
 her will. 
 
 There is on the eastern bank of the Nile , to the north of Anlinoe, 
 a high and sleep rock , impending over Ihe flood , which for ages , 
 from a prodigy connected with it , has borne the name of the Moun- 
 tain of the Birds. Yearly, it is said, at a certain season and hour, 
 large flocks of birds assemble in the ravine, of which this rocky 
 mountain forms one of the sides , and are there observed to go 
 through Ihe mysterious ceremony of inserting each its beak into a 
 particular cleft of the rock , till the cleft closes upon one of their 
 number, when the rest , taking wing, leave the selected victim to 
 die. 
 
 Through the ravine where this charm for such the multitude 
 consider it is worked , there ran , in ancient times , a canal from 
 the Nile , to some great and forgotten city that now lies buried in 
 the desert. To a short distance from the river this canal still exists , 
 but, soon after having passed through the defile, its scanty waters 
 disappear altogether, and are lost under the sands. 
 
 It was in the neighbourhood of this place , as I could collect from 
 the delineation on the leaf, where a flight of birds represented the 
 name of the mountain, that the dwelling of the Solitary, to whom 
 Alethe was bequeathed , lay. Imperfect as was my knowledge of the 
 geography of Egypt , it at once struck me , that we had long since 
 left this mountain behind; and, on inquiring of our boatmen, 1 
 found my conjecture confirmed. We had , indeed . passed it , as 
 appeared, on the preceding night; and, as the wind had, ever 
 since, blown strongly from the north, and the sun was already 
 declining towards the horizon, we must now be, at least, an ordi- 
 nary day's sail to the southward of the spot. 
 
 At this discovery, I own , my heart felt a joy which I could with 
 difficulty conceal. It seemed to me as if fortune was conspiring with 
 love , and , by thus delaying the moment of our separation , afforded 
 me at least a chance of happiness. Her look , loo , and manner, when 
 informed of our mistake , rather encouraged than chilled this secret
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 77 
 
 hope, lit Ihe first moment of astonislnnenl, her e>es opened upon 
 me with a suddenness of splendour, under which I felt my own 
 wink , as if lightning had crossed them. But she again , as suddenly , 
 let their lids fall , and, after a quiver of her lip, which showed the 
 conflict of feeling within, crossed her arms upon her bosom, and 
 looked silently down upon the deck ; her whole countenance sink- 
 ing into an expression , sad , but resigned , as if she fell , with me, 
 that fate was on the side of wrong, and saw Love already stealimv 
 between her soul and heaven. 
 
 I was not slow in availing myself of what I fancied to be Ihe ir- 
 resolution of her mind. But, fearful otoxciling alarm by any appeal 
 to tenderer feelings, I but address^^nyself to her imagination, 
 and to that love of novelty, which is for ever fresh in the youthful 
 breast. We were now approaching that region of wonders, Thebes. 
 "-In a day or two," said I, "we shall see, lowering above the 
 waters, the colossal Avenue of Sphinxes, and the bright Obelisks 
 of the Sun. We shall visit the plain of Memnon , and those mighty 
 statues, that (ling their shadows at sunrise over the Libyan hills. 
 We shall hear Ihe image of Ihe Son of the Morning answering to the 
 first louch of light. From thence, in a few hours, a breeze like this 
 will transport us to Ihose sunny islands near the cataracts ; there , to 
 wander among the sacred palm-groves of Phihfi, or sit, at noon- 
 tide hour, in those cool alcoves, which the waterfall of Syene sha- 
 dows under its arch. Oh , who , with such scenes of loveliness within 
 reach , would turn coldly away to the bleak desert , and leave this 
 fair world , w ith all its enchantments , shining behind them , unseen 
 and unenjoyed? At least," I added, lenderly taking her by the 
 hand "at least, let a few more days be stolen from the dreary 
 fate to which thou hast devoted thyself, and then " 
 
 She had heard but the last few words ; the rest had been lost upon 
 her. Startled by the tone of tenderness , into which, in spite of all 
 my resolves , my voice had softened , she looked for an instant in 
 my face , with passionate earnestness ; then , dropping upon her 
 knees with her clasped hands upraised, exclaimed "Tempt me 
 not; in the name of God I implore thee, tempt me not to swerve 
 from my sacred duly. Oh , take me instantly to that deserl mountain, 
 and I will bless thee for ever." 
 
 This appeal , I felt , could not be resisted , though my heart 
 were to break for it. Having silently expressed my assent to her 
 prayer, by a pressure of her hand as I raised her from the deck , 
 I hastened , as we were stil! in full career for the south , lo give 
 orders thai our sail should be instantly lowered, and not a moment 
 lost in retracing our course. 
 
 In proceeding, however, to give these directions , it . for the first
 
 78 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 time , occurred to me , that , as I had hired this yacht in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Memphis , where it was probable that the flight of the 
 young fugitive would be most vigilantly tracked , we should act im- 
 prudently in betraying to the boatmen the place of her retreat ; 
 and the present seemed the most favourable opportunity of evading 
 such a danger. -Desiring, therefore, that we should be landed at a 
 small village on the shore , under pretence of paying a visit to some 
 shrine in the neighbourhood , I there dismissed our barge , and was 
 relieved from fear of further observation , by seeing it again set sail , 
 and resume its course fleetly up the current. 
 
 From the boats of all descriptions that lay idle beside the bank , 
 I now selected one, which /Ik every respect, suited my purpose, 
 being, in its shape and accommodations , a miniature of our former 
 vessel , but so small and light as to be manageable by myself alone , 
 and, with the advantage of the current, requiring little more than 
 a hand to steer it. This boat I succeeded, without much difficulty, 
 in purchasing, and , after a short delay, we were again afloat down 
 the current-, the sun just then sinking, in conscious glory, over 
 his own golden shrines in the Libyan waste. 
 
 The evening was more calm and lovely than any that yet had 
 smiled upon our voyage 5 and, as we left the bank , there came sooth- 
 ingly over our ears a strain of sweet, rustic melody from the shore. 
 It was the voice of a young Nubian girl, whom we saw kneeling on 
 the bank before an acacia , and singing, while her companions stood 
 round , the wild song of invocation , which , in her country, they 
 address to that enchanted tree ; 
 
 Oh! Abyssinian tree, 
 We pray, we pray , to tbee ! 
 By the glow of thy golden fruit , 
 
 And the violet hue of thy flower, 
 And the greeting mute 
 . Of thy bough's salute 
 
 To the stranger who seeks thy bower '. 
 
 Oh ! Abyssinian tree , 
 How the traveller blesses tbee , 
 When the uight no moon allows, 
 
 And the sun-set hour is near, 
 And thou beud'st thy bonghs 
 To kiss bis brows, 
 
 Saying , " Come rest thee here." 
 Oh ! Abyssinian tree , 
 Thus bow thy head to me ! 
 
 In the burden of this song the companions of the young Nubian 
 joined} and we heard the words, "Oh! Abyssinian tree, "dying 
 
 1 See an account of this sensitive tree, which bends down its branches to those 
 who approach it, in M. Joraard's Description of Syene and the Cataracts.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 79 
 
 ,i\v,i\ on the breeze . long after the whole group had been lost to our 
 
 Whether, in Ihis new arrangement which 1 had made for our 
 voyage, any motive , besides those which I professed , had a share, 
 I can scarcely, even myself, so bewildered were my feelings, de- 
 termine. But no sooner had the current borne us away from all 
 human dwellings , and we were alone on the waters, with not a soul 
 near, than I felt how closely such solitude draws hearts together, 
 and how much more we seemed to belong to each other, than when 
 there were eyes around. 
 
 The same feeling , but without the same sense of its danger, was 
 manifest in every look and word of Alclhc. The consciousness of 
 Hie one great effort she had made appeared to have satisfied her 
 heart on the score of duty, while the dcvoledness with which she 
 saw I attended to her every wish, was felt with all that gratitude 
 which , in woman , is the day-spring of love. She was , therefore , 
 happy, innocently happy , and the confiding, and even affectionate, 
 unreserve of her manner, while it rendered my trust more sacred , 
 made it also far more difficult. 
 
 It was only, however, on subjects unconnected with our silua- 
 liou or fate, that she yielded to such interchange of thought, or 
 that her voice ventured to answer mine. The moment I alluded to 
 the destiny that awaited us , all her cheerfulness fled , and she be- 
 came saddened and silent. When I described to her the beauty of 
 my own native land its founts of inspiration and fields of glory 
 her eyes sparkled with sympathy, and sometimes even softened into 
 fondness. But when I ventured to whisper, thai, in that glorious 
 country, a life full of love and liberty awaited her; when I pro- 
 rmlcd to contrast the adoration and bliss she might command , 
 \\ilii the gloomy austerities of the life to which she was hastening , 
 it was like the coming of a sudden cloud over a summer sky. Her 
 head sunk, as she listened; I waited in vain for an answer-, and 
 when , half playfully reproaching her for this silence , I stooped to 
 take her hand, I could feel the warm tears fast falling over it. 
 
 But even this little hope as it held out was happiness. Though 
 it foreboded that I should lose her, it also whispered that I was 
 loved. Like that lake , in the Land of Roses ', whose waters arc half 
 sweet, half bitter, I fell my fate to be a compound of bliss and pain, 
 but the very pain well worth all ordinary bliss. 
 
 And thus did the hours of that night pass along ; while every mo- 
 ment shortened our happy dream , and the current seemed to How 
 with a swifter pace than any that ever yet hurried to the sea. Not a 
 
 1 TLc province of Arsinoc, now Fiouni
 
 SO THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 feature of the whole scene but is, a! this moment, freshly in my 
 memory , the broken star-light on the water ; the rippling sound 
 of the boat , as , without oar or sail , it went , like a thing of en- 
 chantment, down the stream; the scented fire, burning beside 
 'us on the deck , and , oh , that face , on which its light fell , still 
 revealing , as it turned , some new charm , some blush or look , 
 more beautiful than the last. 
 
 Often , while I sat gazing , forgetful of all else in this world , our 
 boat , left wholly to itself, would drive from its course, and, bearing 
 us to the bank, get entangled in the water-flowers , or be caught in 
 some eddy, ere I perceived where we were. Once , too , when the 
 rustling of my oar among the flowers had startled away from the 
 bank some wild antelopes , that had stolen , at that still hour, to 
 drink of the Nile, what an emblem I thought it of the young heart 
 beside me , lasting , for the first time , of hope and love , and so 
 soon , alas, to be scared from their sweetness for ever! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE night was now far advanced ; the bend of our course to- 
 wards the left , and the closing in of the eastern hills upon the river, 
 gave warning of our approach to the hermit's dwelling. Every mi- 
 nute now seemed like the last of existence ; and I felt a sinking of 
 despair at my heart , which would have been intolerable , had not 
 a resolution that suddenly, and as if by inspiration, occurred to me, 
 presented a glimpse of hope which , in some degree , calmed my 
 feelings. 
 
 Much as I had , all my life , despised hypocrisy, the very sect I 
 had embraced being chiefly recommended to me by the war which 
 they waged on the cant of all others , it was , nevertheless , in 
 hypocrisy that I now scrupled not to lake refuge from, what 1 
 dreaded more than shame or death , my separation from Alethe. In 
 my despair, I adopted the humilialing plan deeply humiliating as 
 I felt it lo be, even amid Ihe joy with which I welcomed it oi 
 offering myself to this hermit , as a convert lo his faith , and thus 
 becoming the fellow-disciple of Alethe under his care ! 
 
 From the moment I resolved upon this plan, my spirit felt light- 
 ened. Though having fully before my eyes the labyrinth of impos- 
 ture into which it would lead me , I thought of nothing but the 
 chance of our being still together ; in this hope , all pride , all 
 philosophy was forgotten, and every thing seemed tolerable, but 
 the prospect of losing her. 
 
 Thus resolved , it was with somewhat less reluctant feelings , that 
 I now undertook , at the anxious desire of Alelhe , to ascertain the
 
 THE EPICURK\> SI 
 
 site of that well-known mountain . in the neighbourhood of which 
 the dwelling of the anchoret lay. We had already passed one or two 
 stupendous rocks . which stood , detached , like fortresses , over 
 the river's brink, and which, in some degree, corresponded \\ith 
 the description of the leaf. So little was there of life now stirring 
 along the shores, that I had begun almost to despair of any assist- 
 ance from inquiry, when, on looking to the western bank, I s;i\v 
 a boatman among the sedges , towing his small boat , with some dif- 
 ficulty, up the current. Hailing him , as we passed . 1 asked, 
 " Where stands the Mountain of the Birds?" and he had hardly 
 time to answer, pointing above our heads , " There ," when we 
 perceived that we were just then entering into the shadow , which 
 this mighty rock flings across the vhole of the flood. 
 
 In a few moments we had reached the mouth of the ravine , of 
 which the Mountain of the Birds forms one of the sides, and through 
 which the scanty canal from the Nile flows. At the sight of this 
 chasm , in some of whose gloomy recesses if we had rightly in- 
 terpreted the leaf the dwelling of the Solitary lay, our voices , at 
 once, sunk into a low whisper, while Alethe looked round upon me 
 w ith a superstitious fearfulness , as if doubtful whether I had not 
 already disappeared from her side. A quick movement , however, 
 of her hand towards the ravine , told too plainly that her purpose 
 was still unchanged. With my oars, therefore, checking the career 
 of our boat , I succeeded , after no small exertion , in turning it out 
 of the current of the river, and steering into this bleak and stagnant 
 canal. 
 
 Our transition from life and bloom to the very depth of desola- 
 tion , was immediate. While the water and one side of the ravine 
 lay buried in shadow , the white , skeleton-like crags of the other 
 stood aloft in the pale glare of moonlight. The sluggish stream 
 through which we moved , yielded suddenly to the oar, and the 
 shriek of a few water-birds, v>h ; -h we had roused from their fast- 
 nesses , was succeeded by a silence , so dead and awful , that our 
 lips seemed afraid to disturb it by a breath ; and half-whispered 
 exclamations, " How dreary!" " How dismal! "were almost 
 Ihe only words exchanged between us. 
 
 We had proceeded for some time through this gloomy defile , 
 when , at a distance before us , among the rocks on which the 
 moonlight fell, we perceived, upon a ledge bul little elevated above 
 the canal , a small hut or cave , which , from a tree or two planted 
 around it , had some appearance of being the abode of a human 
 being. " This, then," thought I, " is the home to which Alethe is 
 destined ! "A drill of despair came again over my heart, and Ihe 
 oars, as I gazed . lay motionless in my hands.
 
 82 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 I found Alcthe , too , whose eyes had caught the same object , 
 drawing closer to my side than she had yet ventured. Laying her 
 hands agitutcdiy upon mine, " We must here," she said, " part 
 for ever." I turned to her, as she spoke ; there was a tenderness , a 
 despondency, in her countenance , that at once saddened and in- 
 flamed my soul. " Part ! " I exclaimed passionately , " No ! the 
 same God shall receive us both. Thy faith, Alethe, shall, from this 
 hour, be mine , and I w ill live and die in this desert with thee ! " 
 
 Her surprise, her delight , at these words, was like a momentary 
 delirium. The wild, anxious smile, with which she looked into my 
 face, as if to ascertain whether she had, indeed, heard my words 
 aright , bespoke a happiness too much for reason to bear. At length 
 the fulness of her heart found relief in tears ; and , murmuring forth 
 an incoherent blessing on my name , she let her head fall languidly 
 and pow r erlessly on my arm. The light from our boat-fire shone 
 upon her face. I saw her eyes, which she had closed for a moment , 
 again opening upon me with the same tenderness , and merciful 
 Providence , how I remember that moment ! was on the point of 
 bending down my lips toward her , when , suddenly, in the air 
 above our heads , as if it came from heaven , there burst forth a 
 strain from a choir of voices , that with its solemn sweetness filled 
 the whole valley. 
 
 Breaking away from my caress at these supernatural sounds , the 
 maiden threw herself trembling upon her knees , and , not daring 
 to look up , exclaimed wildly, " My mother ! oh my mother! " 
 
 It was the Christian's morning hymn that we heard ; the same , 
 as I learned afterwards , that , on their high terrace at Memphis , 
 Alethe had been often taught by her mother to sing to the rising sun. 
 
 Scarcely less startled than my companion , I looked up , and , at 
 the very summit of the reck above us , saw a light , appearing to 
 come from a small opening or window, through which also the 
 sounds , that had appeared so supernatural , issued. There could be 
 no doubt , that we had now found if not the dwelling of the an- 
 choret at least , the haunt of some of the Christian brotherhood of 
 these rocks , by whose assistance we could not fail to find the place 
 of his retreat. 
 
 The agilation , into which Alethe had been thrown by the first 
 burst of that psalmody, soon yielded to the softening recollections 
 which it brought back ; and a calm came over her brow , such as it 
 had never before worn , since our meeting. She seemed to feel that 
 she had now reached her destined haven , and to hail , as the voice 
 of heaven itself, those sounds by which she was welcomed to it. 
 
 In her tranquillity, however, I could not now sympathize. Impa- 
 tient to know all that awaited her and myself. I pushed our boat
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 83 
 
 dose lo the base of the rook , directly under that lighted window 
 on the summit, to find my way up to which was my first object. 
 Having hastily received my instructions from Alethe , and made her 
 repeat again the name of the Christian whom we sought, I sprang 
 upon the bank , and was not long in discovering a sort of rude stair- 
 way , cut out of the rock , but leading , I found , by easy windings , 
 up the steep. 
 
 After ascending for some time, I arrived at a level space or ledge, 
 which the hand of labour had succeeded in converting into a garden, 
 and which was planted , here and there , with fig-trees and palms. 
 Around it, too, I could perceive, through the glimmering light, 
 a number of small caves or grottos, into some of which, human 
 beings might find entrance, while others appeared no larger than 
 the tombs of the Sacred Birds round lake Moeris. 
 
 I was still, I found, but half-way up the ascent to the summit, nor 
 could perceive any further means of continuing my course , as the 
 mountain from hence rose , almost perpendicularly, like a wall. At 
 length , however, on exploring around , J discovered behind the 
 shade of a sycamore a large ladder of wood , resting firmly against 
 the rock , and affording an easy and secure ascent up the steep. 
 
 Having ascertained thus far, I again descended to the boal for 
 Alelhe , whom I found trembling already at her short solitude, 
 and having led her up the steps to this quiet garden , left her safely 
 lodged, amid its holy silence , while I pursued my way upward to 
 the light on the rock. 
 
 At the top of the long ladder I found myself on another ledge or 
 platform, somewhat smaller than the first, but planted in the same 
 manner, with trees, and, as I could perceive by the mingled light 
 of morning and the moon, embellished with flowers. I was now near 
 the summit; there remained but another short ascent, and, as a 
 ladder against the rock , as before , supplied the means of scaling 
 it, I was in a few minutes at the opening from which (he light 
 issued. 
 
 I had ascended gently, as well from a feeling of awe at the whole 
 scene, as from an unwillingness to disturb too rudely the rifos on 
 which I intruded. My approach was, therefore, unheard, and an 
 opportunity, during some moments , afforded me of observing the 
 group within, before my appearance at the window was discovered. 
 In the middle of the apartment, which seemed once lo have been 
 a Pagan oratory, there was an assembly of seven or eight persons, 
 some male, some female, kneeling in silence round a small altar; 
 while , among them , as if presiding over their ceremony, stood an 
 aged man , who , at the moment of my arrival , was presenting to 
 one of the female worshippers an alabaster cup , which she applied .
 
 84 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 with much reverence , to her lips. On the countenance of the ve- 
 nerable minister, as he pronounced a short prayer over her head , 
 there was an expression of profound feeling that showed how wholly 
 he was absorbed in that rite ; and when she had drunk of the cup , 
 which I saw had engraven on its side the image of a head , with a 
 glory round it , the holy man bent down and kissed her forehead. 
 
 After this parting salutation , the whole group rose silently from 
 I heir knees $ and it was then , for the first time , that, by a cry of 
 terror from one of the women , the appearance of a stranger at the 
 window was discovered. The whole assembly seemed startled and 
 alarmed , except him , that superior person , who , advancing from 
 the altar, with an unmoved look, raised the latch of the door, which 
 was adjoining to the window , and admitted rne. 
 
 There was , in this old man's features , a mixture of elevation and 
 sweetness , of simplicity and energy, which commanded at once 
 attachment and homage , and half hoping , half fearing to find in 
 him the destined guardian of Alethe , I looked anxiously in his face, 
 as I entered, and pronounced the name " Melanius ! " ' ; Melanius 
 is my name, young stranger," he answered 5 " and whether in 
 friendship or in enmity thou comest , Melanius blesses thee." Thus 
 saying, he made a sign with his right hand above my head, while, 
 with involuntary respect , I bowed beneath the benediction. 
 
 " Let this volume," I replied, " answer for the peacefulness of 
 my mission ," at the same time placing in his hands the copy of 
 the Scriptures, which had been his own gift to the mother of Alethe, 
 and which her child now brought as the credential of her claims on 
 his protection. At the sight of this sacred pledge, which he re- 
 cognized instantly, the solemnity that had marked his first recep- 
 tion of me softened into tenderness. Thoughts of other times seemed 
 to pass through his mind , and as , with a sigh of recollection , he 
 look the book from my hands, some words on the outer leaf caught 
 his eye. They were few , but contained , perhaps , the last w ishes 
 of the dying Theora , for as he eagerly read them over , I saw the 
 tears in his aged eyes, " The trust," he said, with a faltering 
 voice, " is sacred, and God will, I hope, enable his servant to 
 guard it faithfully." 
 
 During this short dialogue , the other persons of the assembly 
 had departed being, as I afterwards learned , 'brethren from the 
 neighbouring bank of the Nile , who came thus secretly before day- 
 break , to join in worshipping God. Fearful lest their descent down 
 the rock might alarm Alethe , I hurried briefly over the few words 
 of explanation that remained, and, leaving the venerable Chris- 
 tian to follow at his leisure , hastened anxiously down to rejoin the 
 maiden.
 
 nil: mi.i ];.' 85 
 
 CHAPTER \M. 
 
 MI.I.VMI s was among the lirsl of those Christian:* of Egypt, who 
 .il'lcr the recent example oflhe hermit, Paul, renouncing all the 
 romforts of social existence . betook themselves to a life of con- 
 templation in the desert. Less selfish, ho\ve\er. in his piety, than 
 most of these ascetics, Melanius forgot not the world, in leaving 
 it. He knew that man was not born to live wholly for himself; that 
 his relation to human kind was that of the link to the chain . and 
 that even his solitude should be turned to the advantage of others. 
 In Hying, therefore, from the din and disturbance of life, he sought 
 not to place himself beyond the reach of its sympathies, but se- 
 lecled a retreat, where he could combine the advantage of solitude 
 with those opportunities of serving his fellowmen , which a neigh- 
 bourhood to their haunts would afford. 
 
 That taste for the gloom of subterranean recesses , which the 
 race of Misraim inherit from their Ethiopian ancestors, had , by 
 hollowing out all Egypt into caverns and crypts, furnished these 
 Christian anchorets with a choice of retreats. Accordingly, some 
 found a shelter in the grottos of Elelhya; others, among the 
 royal tombs of the Thebaid. In the middle of the Seven \alleys, 
 where the sun rarely shines, a fe\\ have hxed their dim and me- 
 lancholy retreat, while others have sought the neighbourhood of 
 Hi" 1 red Lakes of Xilria , and there , like those Pagan solitaries of 
 old. who dwell among the palm-trees near the Dead Sea, muse 
 amid the sterility of nature , and seem to tind , in her desolation , 
 peace. 
 
 It was on one of the mountains of the Said , to the east of the 
 river, that Melanius , as we have seen . chose his place of seclusion , 
 between the life and fertility of the Nile on the one side , and the 
 lone, dismal barrenness of the desert on the other. Half-way down 
 this mountain, where il impends over the ravine, he found a scries 
 of caves or grottos dug out of the rock , which had, in other limes, 
 ministered to some purpose of mystery, but wlioM- use had been 
 long forgotten, and their re.cesses abandoned. 
 
 To this place , after the banishment of his great master , Origen , 
 Melanius, vvith a lew faithful followers, retired, and, by the 
 example of his innocent life , no less than by his fervid eloquence , 
 succeeded in winning crowds of converts to his faith. Placed, a> lie 
 was, in the neighbourhood of the rich city Antinoc , though he 
 mingled nol with its multitude, his name and hi> lame were among 
 them . and. to all who sought instruction or consolation, tin' cell 
 of the hermit was ever open.
 
 86 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 Notwithstanding the rigid abstinence of his own habits , he was 
 Aet careful to provide for the comforts of others. Contented with a 
 rude bed of straw himself, for the stranger he had always a less 
 homely resting-place. From his grotto, the wayfaring and the in- 
 digent never went unrcfreshed ; and , with the assistance of some 
 of his brethren , he had formed gardens along the ledges of the 
 mountain , which gave an air of cheerfulness to his rocky dwell- 
 ing , and supplied him with the chief necessaries of such a climate, 
 fruit and shade. 
 
 Though the acquaintance which he had formed with the mother 
 of Alethe, during the short period of her attendance at the school 
 ofOrigen, was soon interrupted, and never afterwards renewed, 
 the interest which he had then taken in her fate was too lively to be 
 forgotten. He had seen the zeal with which her young heart wel- 
 comed instruction; and the thought that such a candidate for 
 heaven should have relapsed into idolatry , came often , with dis- 
 quieting apprehension , over his mind. 
 
 It was, therefore, with true pleasure, that, but a year or two 
 before her death , he had learned, by a private communication from 
 Theora , transmitted through a Christian embalmer of Memphis , 
 that " not only her own heart had taken root in the faith , but that a 
 new bud had flowered with the same divine hope, and that, ere 
 long , he might see them both transplanted to the desert." 
 
 The coming , therefore , of Alethe was far less a surprise to him , 
 than her coming thus alone was a shock and a sorrow ; and the si- 
 lence of their meeting showed how deeply each remembered that 
 the tie which had brought them together was no longer of this 
 world , that the hand, which should have been joined with theirs, 
 was in the tomb. I now saw that not even religion was proof against 
 the sadness of mortality. For, as the old man put the ringlets aside 
 from her forehead , and contemplated in that clear countenance the 
 reflection of what her mother had been , there was a mournfulncss 
 mingled with his piety, as he said, u Heaven rest her soul ! " which 
 showed how little even the certainly of a heaven for those we love 
 can subdue our regret for having lost them on earth. 
 
 The full light of day had now risen upon the desert , and our 
 host, reminded , by the faint looks of Alethe , of the many anxious 
 hours we had passed without sleep , proposed that we should seek , 
 in the chambers of the rock, such rest as the dwelling of the hermit 
 could offer. Pointing to one of the largest openings , as he addressed 
 me, "' Thou wilt find, " he said, " in that grotto a bed of fresh 
 doum leaves , and may the consciousness of having protected the 
 orphan sweeten thy sleep ! " 
 
 I felt how dearly this praise had been earned , and already almost
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 87 
 
 repenled of baving deserved it. There was a sadness in the counte- 
 nance of Alethe. as I look leave of her, to which the forebodings of 
 my own heart but too faithfully responded ; nor could I help fearing, 
 as her hand parted lingeringly from mine , that I had , by this 
 sacrifice, placed her beyond my reach for ever. 
 
 Having lighted me a lamp , which , in these recesses , even at 
 noon , is necessary, the holy man led me to the entrance of the 
 grotto ; and here , I blush to say, my career of hypocrisy began. 
 \Mllt the sole view of obtaining another glance at Alethe. I turned 
 humbly to solicit the benediction of the Christian . and , having con- 
 veyed to her, as I bent reverently down, as much of the deep 
 feeling of rny soul as looks could express , with a desponding spirit 
 I hurried into the cavern. 
 
 A short passage led me to the chamber within, the walls of 
 which I found covered, like those of the grottos of Lycopolis . with 
 paintings , which , though executed long ages ago , looked fresh as 
 if their colours were but laid on yesterday. They were , all of them , 
 representations of rural and domestic scenes-, and, in the greater 
 number, the melancholy imagination of the artist had called Death 
 MI , as usual , to throw his shadow over the picture. 
 
 3Iy attention was particularly drawn to one series of subjects , 
 throughout the whole of which the same group a youth, a maiden , 
 and two aged persons . who appeared to be the father and mother of 
 the girl , were represented in all the details of their daily life. The 
 looks and altitudes of the young people denoted that they were 
 lovers 5 and, sometimes, they were seen sitting under a canopy of 
 flowers, with their eyes fixed on each other's faces, as though Ihey 
 could never look away \ somelimes , they appeared walking along 
 the banks of Ihe Nile , 
 
 on one of those sweet uiglits 
 VVlieu Isis , the pure star of lovers, lights 
 Her bridal crescent o'er the holy stream , 
 \Yheii wandering youths and maidens watch her beam , 
 And number o'er the uights she hath toruu 
 Ere she agaiu embrace her bridegroom son. 
 
 Through all these scenes of endearment the two elder persons 
 stood by; their calm countenances touched with a share of that 
 bliss , in whose perfect light the young lovers were basking. Thus 
 far, all was happiness . but the sad lesson of mortality was to come. 
 In the last picture of the series , one of the figures was missing. It 
 was that of the young maiden , who had disappeared from among 
 them. On the brink of a dark lake stood the three who remained ; 
 while a boat, just departing for the City of the Dead, told too plainly 
 the end of their dream of happiness.
 
 88 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 This memorial of a sorrow of other times of a sorrow, ancient as 
 death itself, was not wanting to deepen the melancholy of my 
 mind , or to add to the weight of the many bodings that pressed on it. 
 
 After a night, as it seemed, of anxious and unsleeping thought, 
 I rose from my bed and returned to the garden. I found the Christian 
 alone, seated , under the shade of one of his trees, at a small 
 table , with a volume unrolled before him , while a beautiful antelope 
 lay sleeping at his feet. Struck forcibly by the contrast which he 
 presented to those haughty priests, whom I had seen surrounded by 
 the pomp and gorgeousness of temples, " Is this, then, " thought 
 I, " the faith, before which the world trembles its temple the 
 desert, its treasury a book, and its High Priest the solitary dweller 
 of the rock ! " 
 
 He had prepared for me a simple, but hospitable, repast, of 
 which fruits from his own garden, the white bread of Olyra, and 
 the juice of the honey-cane were the most costly luxuries. His man- 
 ner to me was even more cordial than before ; but the absence of 
 Alelhe, and, still more, the ominous reserve, with which he not 
 only, himself , refrained from all mention of her name, but eluded 
 the few inquiries , by which I sought to lead to it . seemed to confirm 
 all the fears I had felt in parting from her. 
 
 She had acquainted him , it was evident , with the whole history of 
 our flight. My reputation as a philosopher my desire to become a 
 Christian all was already known to the zealous anchoret., and the 
 subject of my converlion was the very first on which he entered. 
 O pride of philosophy, how werl thou then humbled , and with what 
 shame did I stand , casting down my eyes , before that venerable 
 man, as , with ingenuous trust in the sincerity of my intention , he 
 welcomed me to a participation of his holy hope , and imprinted the 
 Kiss of Charity on my infidel brow ! 
 
 Embarrassed as I felt by the consciousness of hypocrisy, I was 
 even still more perplexed by my total ignorance of the real tenets of 
 the faith to which I professed myself a convert. Abashed and con- 
 fused , and with a heart sick at its own deceit , I heard the animated 
 and eloquent gratulations of the Christian , as though they were 
 words in a dream, without link or meaning ; nor could disguise, 
 but by the mockery of a reverential bow, at every pause , the entire 
 want of self-possession , and even of speech, under which I laboured. 
 
 A few minutes more of such trial , and I must have avowed my 
 imposture. But the holy man saw my embarrassment 5 and, whe- 
 ther mistaking it for awe, or knowing it to be ignorance, relieved 
 me from my perplexity by, at once , changing the theme. Having 
 gently awakened his antelope from its sleep, u You have heard, 11 
 he said , " I doubt not, of my brother-anchoret, Paul , who, from
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 80 
 
 his cave in the marble mountains, near the Red Sea, sends hourly 
 ' the sacrifice of thanksgiving' to heaven. Oi'/iis walks, they tell me, 
 a lion is the companion ; but, for me," he added, with a playful 
 and significant smile, "who try my powers of taming but on the 
 gentler animals , this feeble child of the desert is a far fitter play- 
 mate. 1 ' Then, taking his staff, and putting the time-worn volume 
 which he had been reading into a large goat-skin pouch , that hung 
 by his side, "I will now," said he, " lead thee over my rocky 
 kingdom, that thou mayest see in what drear and barren places , 
 that " fruit of the spirit,' Peace, may be gathered." 
 
 To speak of peace to a heart like mine , at that moment , was like 
 talking of some distant harbour to the mariner sinking at sea. In 
 vain did I look round for some sign of Alethe; in vain make an 
 effort even to utter her name. Consciousness of my own deceit , as 
 well as a fear of awakening in Melanius any suspicion that might 
 frustrate my only hope, threw a fetter over my spirit and checked 
 my tongue. In silence , therefore , I followed, while the cheerful old 
 man, with slow, but firm step, ascended the rock, by the same 
 ladders which I had mounted on the preceding night. 
 
 During the time when the Decian Persecution was raging, many 
 Christians of this neighbourhood , he informed me , had taken refuge 
 under his protection , in these grottos ; and the chapel on the sum- 
 mit where I had found them at prayer, was , in those limes of danger, 
 their place of retreat, where, fay drawing up these ladders, they 
 were enabled to secure themselves from pursuit. 
 
 From the top of the rock , the view , on either side , embraced the 
 two extremes of fertility and desolation ; nor could the Epicurean 
 and the anchoret, who now gazed from that height, fae at any loss 
 to indulge their respective tastes, between the living luxuriance of 
 the world on one side , and the dead repose of the desert on the 
 other. When we turned to the river, what a picture of animation 
 presented itself I Near us , to the south , were the graceful colonnades 
 of Antinoe , its proud , populous streets , and triumphal monuments. 
 On the opposite shore , rich plains, teeming with cultivation to the 
 water's edge, offered up, as from verdant altars, their fruits to the 
 sun ; while , beneath us , the Nile , 
 
 the glorious stream , 
 
 That late between its banks was seeu to glide, 
 With shrine* and marble cities , on each iide , 
 Glittering like jewels strung along a chain, 
 Had now seut forth its waters, and o'er plain 
 And valley, like a giant from his bed 
 Rising with outstretch'd limbs, superbly spread. 
 
 From this scene, on one side of the mountain, we had but to turn
 
 90 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 round our eyes, and il was as if nature herself had become suddenly 
 extinct-, a wide waste of sands, bleak and interminable, wearying 
 out the sun with its sameness of desolation; black, burnt-up rocks, 
 that stood as barriers, at which life stopped 5 while the only signs 
 of animation, past or present , were the foot-prints , here and there, 
 of an antelope or ostrich , or the bones of dead camels , as they lay 
 w hilening at a distance , marking out the track of the caravans over 
 the waste. 
 
 After listening,, w hile he contrasted , in a few eloquent words , 
 the two regions of life and death on whose confines we stood , I 
 again descended with my guide to the garden we had left. From 
 thence, turning into a path along the mountain-side, he conducted 
 me to another row of grottos , facing the desert , which had once , 
 he said , been the abode of those brethren in Christ , w ho had fled 
 with him to his solitude from the crowded world , but which death 
 had , within a few months , rendered tenantless. A cross of red stone, 
 and a few f j.ded trees , were the only traces these solitaries had left 
 behind. 
 
 A silence of some minutes succeeded, while we descended to the 
 edge of the canal , and I saw opposite , among the rocks , that soli- 
 tary cave , which had so chilled me with its aspect on the preceding 
 night. By the bank we found one of those rustic boats , which the 
 Egyptians construct of planks of wild thorn , bound rudely together 
 with bands of papyrus. Placing ourselves in this boat, and rather 
 impelling than rowing it across, we made our way through the 
 foul and shallow flood , and landed directly under the site of the cave. 
 
 This dwelling, as I have already mentioned , was situated upon a 
 ledge of the rock ; and, being provided with a sort of window or 
 aperture to admit the light of heaven , was accounted , I found , 
 more cheerful than the grottos on the other side of the ravine. But 
 there was a dreariness in the whole region around, to which light 
 only lent more horror. The dead whiteness of the rocks , as they 
 stood , like ghosts , in the sunshine ; that melancholy pool , half 
 lost in the sands ; all gave me the idea of a wasting world. To 
 dwell in such a place seemed to me like a living death ; and when 
 the Christian, as we entered the cave, said, "Here is to be thy 
 home ," prepared as I was for the worst , my resolution gave way ; 
 every feeling of disappointed passion and humbled pride , which 
 had been gathering round my heart for the last few hours, found a 
 vent at once , and I burst into tears ! 
 
 Well accustomed to human weakness , and perhaps guessing at 
 some of the sources of mine, the good Hermit, without appearing 
 to notice this emotion , expatiated , with a cheerful air, on what he 
 called the many comforts of my dwelling. Sheltered , he said , from
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 91 
 
 the dry, burning wind of the south , my porch would inhale the fresh 
 breeze of the Dog-star. Fruits from his own mountain-garden should 
 furnish my repast. The well of the neighbouring rock would supply 
 my beverage-, and, "here," he continued, lowering his voice 
 into a more solemn tone , as he placed upon the table the volume 
 which he had brought, " here, my son, is that 'well of living 
 waters ,' in which alone thou wilt find lasting refreshment or peace !" 
 Thus saying, he descended the rock to his boat , and after a few 
 plashes of his oar had died upon my ear, the solitude and silence 
 around me was complete. < 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WHAT a fate was mine ! but a few weeks since , presiding over 
 that splendid Festival of the Garden , with all the luxuries of existence 
 tributary in my train , and now self-humbled into, a solitary out- 
 cast, the hypocritical pupil of a Christian anchoret , without even 
 the excuse of fanaticism , or any other madness , but that of love , 
 wild love , to extenuate my fall ! Were there a hope that , by this 
 humiliating waste of existence, I might purchase but a glimpse, 
 now and then, of Alelhe, even the depths of the desert, with such 
 a chance , would be welcome. But to live and live thus without 
 her, was a misery which I neither foresaw nor could endure. 
 
 Haling even to look upon the den to which I was doomed , 1 
 hurried out into the air, and found my way, along the rocks , to the 
 desert. The sun was going down , with that blood-red hue, which 
 he so frequently wears , in this clime , at his setting. I saw the sands , 
 stretching out, like a sea, to the horizon, as if their waste extended 
 to the very verge of the w : orld, and, in the bitterness of my feel- 
 ings, rejoiced to see so much of creation rescued, even by this 
 barren liberty, from the grasp of man. The thought seemed to relieve 
 my wounded pride , and , as I wandered over the dim and boundless 
 solitude to be thus free , even amid blight and desolation , appeared 
 a blessing. 
 
 The only living thing I saw was a restless swallow, whose wings 
 were of the hue of the grey sands over which he fluttered. " Why 
 may not the mind , like this bird , take the colour of the desert, and 
 sympathise in its austerity, its freedom, and its calm?" thus, 
 between despondency and defiance, did I ask myself, endeavouring 
 to face with fortitude what yet my heart sickened to contemplate. 
 But the effort was unavailing. Overcome by that vast solitude , whose 
 repose was not the slumber of peace , but the sullen and burning 
 silence of hate , I felt my spirit give way, and even love itself yield 
 to despair.
 
 95 111K 
 
 Sealing linselfon a fragment of a rock, and covering mv e\es 
 \\ilh my hands, 1 made an effort to shut out the overwhelming 
 prospect. But in vain it was still before me, deepened by all thai 
 fancy could add; and when, again looking up, I saw the last red 
 ray of the sun , shooting across that melancholy and lifeless waste , 
 it seemed to me like the light of the comet that once desolated this 
 world , shining out luridly over the ruin that it had made ! 
 
 Appalled by my own gloomy imaginations, I turned towards the 
 ravine ; and , notwithstanding the disgust with which I had left my 
 dwelling, was not ill pleased to find my way, over the rocks, to it 
 again. On approaching the cave , to my astonishment , I saw a 
 light within. At such a moment, any vestige of life was welcome, 
 and I hailed the unexpected appearance with pleasure. On entering 
 however, I found the chamber as lonely as I had left it. The light 
 came from a lamp that burned brightly on the table } beside it was 
 unfolded the volume which Melauius had brought, and upon the 
 leaves oh , joy and surprise lay the well-known cross of Alelhe ! 
 
 What hand , but her own , could have prepared this reception 
 for me? The very thought sent a hope into my heart, before 
 which all despondency fled. Even the gloom of the desert was 
 forgotten , and my cave at once brightened into a bower. She had 
 here reminded me , herself , by this sacred memorial , of the vow 
 which I had pledged to her under the Hermit's rock $ and I now 
 scrupled not to reiterate the same daring promise , though con- 
 scious that through hypocrisy alone I could fulfil it. 
 
 Eager to prepare myself for my task of imposture , 1 sat down to 
 the volume , which I now found to be the Hebrew Scriptures ; and 
 the first sentence , on which my eyes fell , was " The Lord hath 
 commanded the blessing, even Life for evermore! " Startled by 
 these words , in which the Spirit of my dream seemed again to pro- 
 nounce his assuring prediction , I raised my eyes from the page , 
 and repeated the sentence over and over, as if to try whether the 
 sounds had any charm or spell , to reawaken that faded illusion in 
 my soul. But, no the rank frauds of the Memphian priesthood 
 had dispelled all my trust in the promises of religion. Aly heart had 
 again relapsed into its gloom of scepticism , and, to the word of 
 ' Life ," the only answer it sent back was " Death! " 
 
 Impatient, however, to possess myself of the elements of a faith, 
 on which, whatever it might promise for hereafter, I felt that 
 my happiness here depended, I turned over the pages with an 
 earnestness and avidity, such as never even the most favourite of 
 my studies had awakened in me. Though, like all who seek but 
 the surface of learning , I flew desultorily over the leaves , lighting 
 only on the more prominent and shining points, I yet found my-
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 03 
 
 self . even in lliis undisciplined career, arrested . at cver\ paire . l>\ 
 the awful, the supernatural sublimity, the alternate melancholy and 
 grandeur of the images that crowded upon me. 
 
 I had , till now , known the Hebrew theology but through the 
 plalonising refinements of Philo : as, in like manner, for m> 
 knowledge of the Christian doctrine I was indebted to my brother 
 Epicureans, Lucian and Celsus. Little, therefore, was 1 prepared 
 for the simple majesty , the high tone of inspiration . the poetry . 
 in short, of hea\en that breathed throughout these oracles. Could 
 admiration have kindled faith. I should that night have been ,; 
 believer, so elevated, so awed was my imagination by that won- 
 derful book, its warnings of woe, its announcements of glon . 
 and its unrivalled strains of adoration and sorrow. 
 
 Hour after hour, with the same eager and desultory curiosity , 
 did I turn over the leaves; and when, al length, 1 lay down ID 
 re>l. my fancy was still haunted by the impressions it had re- 
 ceived. I went again through the various scenes of which 1 had 
 read ; again called up, in sleep, the bright images that had charmed 
 me, and, when wakened al day-break by the Hymn from the 
 chapel , fancied myself still listening to the sound of the winds , 
 sighing mournfully through the harps of Israel on the willows. 
 
 Starting from my bed , I hurried out upon the rock , with a hope 
 that, among the tones of that morning choir, I might be able to 
 distinguish the sweet voice of Alethe. But the strain had ceased : 
 I caught only the last notes of the Hymn, as, echoing up thai 
 lonely valley, they died away into the silence of the desert. 
 
 With the first glimpse of light I was again at my study, and , 
 notwithstanding the distraction both of my thoughts and looks to- 
 wards the half-seen grottos of the anchoret, pursued it perseveringly 
 through the day. Still alive, however, but to (he eloquence, the 
 poetry of what 1 read, of its connection or authenticity, as a his- 
 tory, I never paused to consider. My fancy being alone interested 
 by it , to fancy I referred all it contained; and, passing rapidly 
 from annals to prophecy, from narration to song, regarded the 
 whole but as a tissue of splendid allegories , in which the me- 
 lancholy of Egyptian associations was interwoven with the rich 
 imagery of the East. 
 
 Towards sunset I ^aw the boat of Melanius on its way, across 
 the canal, to my cave. Though he had no other companion than 
 his graceful antelope, that stood snu fling the wild air of the desert, 
 as if scenting its home . 1 felt his visit . even thus, to be a most wel- 
 come relief. It was the hour, he said , of his evening ramble up the 
 mountain , of his accustomed visit to these cisterns of the rock . 
 from which he nightly drew his most precious beverage. While he
 
 94 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 spoke , I observed in his hand one of those earthen cups , in which 
 the inhabitants of the wilderness are accustomed to collect the fresh 
 dew among the rocks- Having proposed that I should accompany 
 him in his walk, he led me, in the direction of the deserl, up the 
 side of the mountain that rose above my dwelling , and which 
 formed the southern wall or screen of the defile. 
 
 Near the summit we found a seat , where the old man paused to 
 rest. It commanded a full view over the desert, and was by the side 
 of one of those hollows of the rock , those natural reservoirs , in 
 which the dews of night are treasured up for the refreshment of the 
 dwellers in the wilderness. Having learned from me how far I had 
 proceeded in my study, " In that light," said he, pointing to a 
 small cloud in the east , which had been formed on the horizon by 
 the haze of the desert , and was now faintly reflecting the splendours 
 of sunset, " in that light stands Mount Sinai, of whose glory 
 thou hast read , on whose summit was the scene of one of those 
 awful revelations , in which the Almighty has , from time to time , 
 renewed his communication with Man , and kept alive the remem- 
 brance of his own Providence in this world." 
 
 After a pause , as if absorbed in the immensity of the subject , the 
 holy man continued his sublime theme. Looking back to the ear- 
 liest annals of time , he showed how constantly every relapse of the 
 human race into idolatry has been followed by some manifestation 
 of divine power, chastening the proud by punishment , and win- 
 ning back the humble by love. It was to preserve, he said, unextin- 
 guished upon earth, that vital truth, the Creation. of the world 
 by one Supreme Being , that God chose, from among the nations, 
 an humble and enslaved race $ that he brought them out of their 
 captivity " on eagles' wings ," and, surrounding every step of their 
 course with miracles, placed them before the eyes of all succeeding 
 generations , as the depositaries of his will , and the ever-during 
 memorials of his power. 
 
 Passing , then, in review the long train of inspired interpreters , 
 whose pens and whose tongues were made the echoes of the Divine 
 voice , he traced ', through the events of successive ages, the gra- 
 dual unfolding of the dark scheme of Providence darkness with- 
 out, but all light and glory within. The glimpses of a coming re- 
 demption, visible even through the wrath" %f heaven; the long 
 series of prophecy, through which this hope runs , burning and 
 alive , like a spark through a chain , the merciful preparation of 
 the hearts of mankind for the great trial of their faith and obedience 
 that was at hand , not only by miracles that appealed to the living , 
 
 1 In the original the discourses of (he Hermit are given much more at length.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 but by predictions launched into futurity to carry conviction to the 
 yet unborn; " through all these glorious and beneficent grada- 
 tions we may track," said he, " the manifest footsteps of a Creator, 
 advancing to his grand, ultimate end, the salvation of his creatures." 
 
 After some hours devoted to these holy instructions, we returned 
 to the ravine, and Melanius left me at my cave; praying, as he 
 parted from me , with a benevolence I but ill , alas ! deserved . 
 that my soul, under these lessons, might be " as a watered garden," 
 and ere long, bear " fruit unto life eternal/' 
 
 Next morning , I was again at my study, and even more eager 
 in the task than before. With the commentary of the Hermit freshly 
 in my memory, I again read through , with attention , the Book of 
 the Law. But in vain did I seek the promise of immortality in its 
 pages. w ' It tells me," said I , " of a God coming down \o earth, 
 but of the ascent of Man to heaven it speaks not. The rewards , the 
 punishments it announces , lie all on this side of the grave ; nor did 
 even the Omnipotent offer to his own chosen servants a hope beyond 
 the impassable limits of this world. Where, then, is the salvation 
 of which the Christian spoke ? or, if Death be at the root of the faith, 
 can Life spring out of it ! " 
 
 Again , in the bitterness of disappointment , did I mock at my 
 own willing self-delusion , again rail at the arts of that traitress , 
 Fancy, ever ready, like the Dalilah of this book, to steal upon the 
 slumbers of Reason , and deliver him up , shorn and powerless , to 
 his foes. If deception thought I , with a sigh be necessary, at 
 least let me not practice it on myself 5 in the desperate alternative 
 before me, let me rather be even hypocrite than dupe. 
 
 These self-accusing reflections, cheerless as they rendered my 
 task , did not abate , for a single moment , my industry in pursuing 
 it. I read on and on , with a sort of sullen apathy , neither charmed 
 by style , nor transported by imagery, that fatal blight in my heart 
 having communicated itself to my fancy and taste. The curses and 
 the blessings, the glory and the ruin, which the historian recorded 
 and the prophet predicted, seemed all of this world, all, temporal 
 and earthly. That mortality, of which the fountain-head had tasted, 
 tinged the whole stream,- and when I read the words, " all are of 
 the dust , and all turn to dust again," a feeling, like the wind of the 
 desert, came witheringly over me. Love, Beauty, Glory, every 
 thing most bright upon earth , appeared sinking before my eyes , 
 under this dreadful doom, into one general mass of corruption and 
 silence. 
 
 Possessed by the image of desolation I had called up, I laid my 
 head on the book, in a paroxysm of despair. Death , in all his most 
 ghaslly varieties , passed before me ; and I had continued thus for
 
 OG THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 some time , as under the influence of a fearful vision , when the 
 touch of a hand upon my shoulder roused me. Looking up, I saw 
 the anchoret standing by my side ; his countenance beaming with 
 that sublime tranquillity, which a hope , beyond this earth , alone 
 can bestow. How I envied him ! 
 
 We again took our way to the seat upon the mountain , the 
 gloom in my own mind making every thing around me more gloomy. 
 Forgetting my hypocrisy in my feelings , I , at once , avowed to 
 him all the doubts and fears which my study of the morning had 
 awakened. 
 
 " Thou art yet, my son," he answered, "but on the threshold of 
 our faith. Thou hast seen but the first rudiments of the Divine plan ; 
 its full and consummate perfection hath not yet opened upon thee. 
 However glorious that manifestation of Divinity on Mount Sinai , 
 it was but the forerunner of another, still more glorious, that, in the 
 fulness of time, was to burst upon the world; when all , that had 
 seemed dim and incomplete , was to be perfected , and the pro- 
 mises, shadowed out by the ' spirit of prophecy ,' realised-, when 
 the silence , that lay, as a seal , on the future , was to be broken , 
 and the glad tidings of life and immortality proclaimed to the 
 world!" 
 
 Observing my features brighten at these words , the pious man 
 continued. Anticipating some of the holy knowledge that was in 
 store for me, he traced, through all its wonders and mercies , the 
 great work of Redemption , dwelling on every miraculous circum- 
 stance connected with it ; the exalted nature of the Being , by 
 whose ministry it was accomplished , the noblest and first created 
 of the Sons of God , inferior only to the one , self-existent Father ; 
 the mysterious incarnation of this heavenly messenger 5 the mi- 
 racles that authenticated his divine mission ; the example of obe- 
 dience to God , and love to man which he set , as a shining light, 
 before the world for ever ; and , lastly and chiefly, his death and 
 resurrection, by which the covenant of mercy was sealed, and 
 " life and immortality brought to- light." 
 
 11 Such ," continued the Hermit , " was the Mediator, promised 
 through all time , to ' make reconciliation for iniquity,' to change 
 death into life , and bring ' healing on his wings ' to a darkened 
 world. Such was the last crowning dispensation of that God of bene- 
 volence , in whose hands sin and death are but instruments of 
 everlasting good, and who through apparent evil and temporary 
 retribution , bringing all things ' out of darkness into his marvellous 
 light,' proceeds watchfully and unchangingly to the great final 
 object of his providence , the restoration of the whole human race 
 io purity and happiness ! "
 
 1 HK EPICUREAN. ,7 
 
 With a Mind astonished, if not touched. !> (lux- di>.-mrses, I 
 returned to my cave : ;md found the lamp . as before , ready lighted 
 to receive me. The volume which I had been reading was replaced 
 by anothont which lay open upon the table, with a branch of fresh 
 palm between it> leaves. Tlioimh 1 could not have a doubt to whose 
 gentle hand I was indebted for this invisible superintendence over 
 my studies . there was yet a something in it , so like spiritual inter- 
 position , that it awed me ; and never more than at this moment , 
 when . on approching the volume , I saw, as the light glistened over 
 its silver letters , that it was the very book of Life of which the 
 Hermit had spoken ! 
 
 The orison of the Christians had sounded through the valley , 
 before I raised my eyes from that sacred volume ; and the second 
 hour of the sun found me again over its pages. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1 \ this mode of existence did I pass some days ; my mornings 
 devoted to reading, my nights to listening, under the canopy of 
 heaven, to the holy eloquence of Melanius. The perseverance with 
 which I enquired . and the quickness with which I learned , soon 
 succeeded in deceiving my benevolent instructor, who mistook cu- 
 riosity for zeal, and knowledge for belief. Alas! cold', and barren, 
 and earthly was that knowledge , the word, without the spirit; 
 the shape , without the life. Even when , as a relief from hypocrisy, 
 I persuaded myself that I believed , it was but a brief delusion , a 
 faith whose hope crumbled at the touch, like the fruit of the de- 
 sert-shrub, shining and empty ! 
 
 But, though iny soul was still dark, the good Hermit saw not 
 into its depths. The very facility of my belie; , which might have 
 suggested some do'ubl of its sincerity, was but regarded by his inno- 
 cent zeal , as a more signal triumph of the truth. His own inge- 
 nuousness led him to a ready trust in others } and the examples of 
 such conversion as that of the philosopher, Justin, who received the 
 light into his soul during a walk by the sea-shore , had prepared 
 him for illuminations of the spirit , even more rapid than mine. 
 
 During Uiis time . I neither saw nor heard of Alelhe ; nor could 
 my patience have endured so long a privation , had not those mute 
 vestiges of her presence . that welcomed me every night on my 
 return , made me feel that I was still living under her gentle in- 
 fluence, and that her sympathy hung round every step of my pro- 
 gress. Once . too. when I ventured to speak her name to Melanius, 
 tlmitih he answered no! my enquiry, there was a smile , I thought, 
 
 7
 
 98 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 of promise upon his countenance , which love , more alive than 
 faith , interpreted as it wished. 
 
 At length, it was on the sixth or seventh evening of my soli- 
 tude, when I lay resting at the door of my cave , after Uc study of 
 the day, I was startled by hearing my name called loudly from the 
 opposite rocks , and looking up , saw, on the cliff near the deserted 
 grottos , Melanius and oh , I could not doubt my Alethe by his 
 side ! 
 
 Though I had never ceased , since the first night of my return 
 from the desert , to flatter myself with the fancy that I was still 
 living in her presence , the actual sight of her again made me feel 
 what an age we had been separated. She w r as clothed all in white, 
 and , as she stood in the last remains of the sunshine , appeared to 
 my too prophetic fancy like a parting spirit , whose last footsteps on 
 earth that glory encircled. 
 
 With a delight only to be imagined , I saw them descend the 
 rocks , and , placing themselves in the boat , proceed towards my 
 cave. To disguise from Melanius the feelings with which we met was 
 impossible , nor did Alethe even attempt to make a secret of her 
 innocent joy. Though blushing at her own happiness , she could as 
 little conceal it, as the clear waters of Ethiopia can hide their gold. 
 Every look, too, every word, spoke a fulness of affection, to 
 which, doubtful as I was of our tenure of happiness, I knew not 
 how to answer. 
 
 I was not long , however, left ignorant of the bright fate which 
 awaited me-, but, as we wandered or rested among the rocks, 
 learned every thing that had been arranged since our parting. She 
 had made the Hermit, I found , acquainted with all that had passed 
 between us $ had told him , w ithout reserve , every incident of 
 our voyage , the avowals , the demonstrations of affection on one 
 side , and the deep sentiment that gratitude had. awakened on the 
 other. Too wise to regard feelings , so natural , with severity, 
 knowing that they were of heaven , and but made evil by man , 
 the good Hermit had heard of our attachment with pleasure; 
 and, proved as he thought the purity of my views had been , by the 
 fidelity with which I had delivered up my trust into his hands, saw , 
 in my affection for the young orphan , but a providential resource 
 against that friendless solitude in which his death must soon leave 
 her. 
 
 As I collected these particulars from their discourse, I could 
 hardly trust my ears. It seemed too much happiness' to be real ; nor 
 can words give an idea of the joy the shame the wonder with 
 which I listened , while the holy man himself declared , that he 
 
 awaited but the moment , when he should find me worthy of beco- 
 

 
 THE EPICUREAN. 99 
 
 ming a member of the Christian Church, to ujvr me also the hand 
 of Alelhe in that sacred union, which alone sanctifies love, and 
 makes the faith, which it pledges, heavenly. It was but yesterday, 
 he added , that his young charge , herself, after a preparation of 
 prayer and repentance , such as even her pure spirit required , had 
 been admitted , by the sacred ordinance of baptism , into the bosom 
 of the faith ; and the white garment she wore , and the ring of gold 
 on her finger, "were symbols, he said, *' of that New Life into 
 \\hich she had been initiated. " 
 
 I raised my eyes to her as he spoke , but withdrew them again , 
 dazzled and confused. Even her beauty, to my imagination , seemed 
 to have undergone some brightening change; and the contrast 
 hel\\een that open and happy countenance, and the unblestbro\\ of 
 the infidel that stood before her, abashed me into a sense of un- 
 worlhiness , and almost checked my rapture. 
 
 To that night , however, I look back , as an epoch in my exist- 
 ence. It proved that sorrow is not the only awakener of devotion , 
 but that joy may sometimes call the holy spark into life. Returning 
 to my cave , with a heart full, even to oppression, of its happiness, 
 I knew no other relief to my overcharged feelings than that of 
 throwing myself on my knees , and , for the first time in my life , 
 uttering a prayer, that if, indeed, there were a Being who watched 
 over mankind , he would send down one ray of his truth into my 
 soul , and make it worthy of the blessings, both here and hereafter, 
 proffered to me ! 
 
 My days now rolled on in a perfect dream of happiness. Every 
 hour of the morning was welcomed as bringing nearer and nearer 
 the blest time of sunset , when the Hermit and Alethe never failed 
 to pay their visit to my now charmed cave , where her smile left a 
 light, at each parting, that lasted till her return. Then, our ram- 
 bles, by staMight, over the mountain; our pauses, on the way, 
 to contemplate the bright wonders of that heaven above us ; our 
 repose by the cistern of the rock , and our silent listening . Ihmudi 
 hours that seemed minutes , to the holy eloquence of our teacher : 
 all , all happiness of the most heartfelt kind , and such as even the 
 doubts , the cold , lingering doubts , that still hung , like a mist , 
 around my heart, eould neither cloud nor chill. 
 
 When the moonlight nights returned , we used to venture into the 
 desert ; and those sands, which but lately had appeared to me so 
 desolate , now wore even a cheerful and smiling aspect. To the liuhl. 
 innocent heart of Alethe every thing was a source of enjoyment. 
 For her. even the desert had its jewels and flowers ; and, sometimes, 
 her delight was to search among the sands for those beautiful 
 pebbles of jasper that abound in them -. sometimes her eyes sparkled
 
 100 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 on finding, perhaps, a stunted marigold, or one of (hose bitter, 
 scarlet llowers , that lend their mockery of ornament to the desert. 
 In all these pursuits and pleasures the good Hermit look a share , 
 mingling with them occasionally the reflections of a benevolent 
 piety, that lent its own cheerful hue to all the works'of creation , and 
 saw the consoling truth "-God is Love," written legibly every 
 where. 
 
 Such was , for a few weeks , my blissful life. Oh mornings of 
 hope ! oh nights of happiness ! with what mournful pleasure do I 
 retrace your flight , and how reluctantly pass to the sad events that 
 followed ! 
 
 During this time , in compliance with the wishes of Melanius , 
 who seemed unwilling that I should beome wholly estranged from 
 the world, I occasionally paid a visit to the neighbouring city, An- 
 tinoe , which , as the capital of the Thebaid , is the centre of all the 
 luxury of Upper Egypt. Here, so changed was my every feeling 
 by the all-transforming passion that possessed me , I wandered , 
 unamused and uninterested by either the scenes or the people that 
 surrounded me , and , -sighing for that rocky solitude where Aletlie 
 breathed , felt this to be the wilderness , and that the world. 
 
 Even the thoughts of my own native Athens , that were called up, 
 at every step , by the light Grecian architecture of this imperial city, 
 did not awaken one single regret in my heart one wish to exchange 
 even an hour of my desert for the best luxuries and honours that 
 awaited me in the Garden. I saw the arches of triumph , I walked 
 under the superb portico , which encircles the whole city with its 
 marble shade ; I stood in the Circus of the Sun , by whose rose- 
 coloured pillars the mysterious movements of the Nile are measured ; 
 all these bright ornaments of glory and art , as well as the gay 
 multitude that enlivened them , I saw with an unheeding eye. If (hey 
 awakened in me any thought , it was the mournful klea , that, one 
 day, like Thebes and Heliopolis , this pageant would pass away, 
 leaving nothing behind but a few mouldering ruins , like the sea 
 shells found where the ocean has been , to tell that the great tide 
 of Life was once there I 
 
 But, though .indifferent thus to all that had formerly attracted 
 me , there were subjects , once alien to my heart , on which it was 
 now most tremblingly alive ; and some rumours which had readied 
 me , in one of my visits to the city, of an expected change in the 
 policy of the Emperor towards the Christians , filled me with ap- 
 prehensions as new as they were dreadful to me. 
 
 The peace and even favour which the Christians enjoyed, during 
 the (irsl four years of the reign of Valerian , had removed from 
 them all fear of a renewal of those horrors , which they had expe-
 
 I HI-. KP1CLKI 101 
 
 rienced under the rule of his predecessor, l)enn>. <)| Kile, howeser. 
 some less friendly dispositions had manifested themselves. The bigots 
 of I ln> court , taking alarm at the spread of the new faith . had suc- 
 ceeded in filling the mind of the monarch with that religious jealousy, 
 which is the ever-ready parent of cruelly and injustice. Among these 
 conn>ellors of evil \vas Macrianus , the Praetorian Prefect , who was, 
 by birth , an Egyptian . and so akin is superstition to intolerance 
 had long made himself notorious by his addiction to the dark 
 practices of demon-worship and magic. 
 
 From Ihis minister, who was now high in the favour of Valerian, 
 the expected measures of severity against the Christians , it was sup- 
 posed ; would emanate. All tongues, in all quarters, were busy with 
 the n;*ws. In the streets . in the public gardens, on the steps of the 
 lemplc-s. I >..\\ . e\er\ where, groups of inquirers collected, and 
 heard the name of .AJacrianus upon every tongue. It was dreadful , 
 too, to observe, in ihe countenances of those who spoke, the variety 
 of feeling with which the rumour was discussed, according as they 
 desired or dreaded its truth, according as they were likely to be 
 among the torturers or the victims. 
 
 Alarmed, though still ignorant of the whole extent of the danger, I 
 hurried back to the ravine, and goiog at once to the grotto of .Me- 
 lanius, detailed to him every particular of the intelligence- J had 
 collected. He heard me with a composure , which I mistook , alas , 
 for confidence in his security ; and naming the hour for our evening 
 walk , retired into his grotto. 
 
 At the accustomed lime Alethe and he were at my cave. It was 
 e\ident that he had not commit nictated to her the intelligence which 
 1 had brought , for never did brow wear such a happiness as that 
 which now played round hers-, it was, alas, not of this earth! 
 Melanius, himself, though composed , was thoughtful-, and the so- 
 lemnity, almost approaching to melancholy, with which he placed 
 the hand of Alelhe in mine ip the performance, loo, of a cere- 
 moin that ought to have filled my heart with joy saddened and 
 alarmed me. This ceremony was our betrothment , the plighting 
 of our faith to each other, which we now solemnized on the rock 
 before ihe door of my cave, in the face of that sunset heaven, with 
 Us one star standing as witness. After a blessing from the Hermit on 
 our spousal pledge, I placed the ring the earnest of our future 
 union on her linger, and, in the blush, with which she surren- 
 dered her whole heart to me at that instant , forgot every thing but 
 my happiness , and felt secure , even against fate ! 
 
 \N e look our accustomed walk over the rocks and on the descrU 
 The moon was so bright. like the day-light, indeed, of other 
 limes lhal we could see plainly thetracksoflhe wild antelopes in the
 
 102 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 sand ; and it was nol without a slight tremble of feeling in his voice, 
 as if some melancholy analogy occurred to him as he spoke , that 
 the good Hermit said, " I have observed in my walks, that wher- 
 ever the track of that gentle animal is seen , there is , almost always , 
 the footprint of a beast of prey near it." He regained, however, his 
 usual cheerfulness before we parted , and fixed the following evening 
 for an excursion, on the other side of the ravine , to a point , looking, 
 he said,-" towards that northern region of the desert, where the 
 hosts of the Lord encamped in their departure out of bondage." 
 
 Though, in the presence of Alethe, my fears, even for herself, 
 were forgotten in that perpetual element of happiness , which en- 
 circled her like the air that she breathed , no sooner was I alone than 
 vague terrors and bodings crowded upon me. In vain did I try to 
 reason myself out of my fears by dwelling on the most cheering cir- 
 cumstances , the reverence with which Melanius was regarded , 
 even by the Pagans , and the inviolate security with which he had 
 lived through the most perilous periods , not only safe himself, but 
 affording sanctuary in his grottos to others. When , somewhat calmed 
 by these considerations , I sunk off to sleep , dark , horrible dreams 
 took possession of my mind. Scenes of death and of torment passed 
 confusedly before me, and, when I awoke, it was with the fearful 
 impre'ssion that all these horrors w r ere real. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AT length, the day dawned, that dreadful day. Impatient to be 
 relieved from rny suspense , I threw myself into my boat, the same 
 in which we had performed our happy voyage, and , as fast as oars 
 could speed me , hurried away to the city. I found the suburbs 
 silent and solitary, but, as I approached the Forum , loud yells , 
 like those of barbarians in combat , struck on my car, and , when 
 I entered it, great God, what a spectacle presented itself! The 
 imperial edict against the Christians had arrived during the night , 
 and already the wild fury of bigotry was let loose. 
 
 Under a canopy, in the middle of the Forum , was the tribunal 
 of the Governor. -Two statues , one of Apollo , the other of Osiris , 
 stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to his judgment-seat. 
 Before these idols were shrines, to which the devoted Christians 
 were dragged from all quarters by the soldiers and mob, and there 
 compelled to recant , by throwing incense into the flame , or , on 
 their refusal, hurried away to torture and death. It was an appalling 
 scene ; the consternation , the cries of some of the victims , the 
 pale^ silent resolution of others-, the fierce shouts of laughter 
 that broke from the multitude , when the frankincense , dropped
 
 THE EPICtREAN. 103 
 
 on the altar, proclaimed some denier of Christ-, and the fiend-like 
 triumph with which the courageous Confessors , who avowed their 
 faith , were led away to the flames $ never could I have conceived 
 such an assemblage of horrors ! 
 
 Though I gazed but for a few minutes , in those minutes I felt 
 enough for years. Already did the form of Alethc flit before me 
 through that tumult ; I heard them shout her name , her shriek 
 fell on my ear ; and the very thought so palsied me with terror, that 
 I slood fixed and statue-like on the spot. 
 
 Recollecting, however, the fearful preciousness of every moment, 
 and that perhaps , at this very instant some emissaries of blood 
 might be on their way to the grottos , I rushed wildly out of the 
 Forum, and made my way to the quay. 
 
 The streets were now crowded ; but I ran headlong through the 
 multitude , and was already under the portico leading down to the 
 river, already saw the boat that was to bear me to Alethe , when 
 a Centurion stood sternly in my path , and I was surrounded and 
 arrested by soldiers ! It was in vain that I implored, that I struggled 
 w ith them as for life , assuring them that I was a stranger, that I 
 was an Athenian, that I was not a Christian. The precipitation 
 of my flight was sufficient evidence against me, and unrelentingly, 
 and by force , they bore me away to the quarter of their Chief. 
 
 It was enough to drive me to madness! Two hours , two frightful 
 hours, was I kept waiting the arrival of the Tribune of their Legion 1 , 
 my brain burning with a thousand fears and imaginations, which 
 every passing minute made more likely to be realised. Every thing, 
 Coo , that I could collect from the conversations around me but added 
 to the agonising apprehensions with which I was racked. Troops, it 
 was said, had been sent in all directions through the neighbourhood, 
 to bring in the rebellious Christians , and make them bow before 
 the Gods of the Empire. With horror, too, I heard of Orcus, 
 Orcus, the High Priest of Memphis , as one of the principal insti- 
 gators of this sadguinary edict , and as here present in Antinoe , 
 animating and directing its execution. 
 
 In this state of torture I remained till the arrival of the Tribune. 
 Absorbed in my own thoughts, I had not perceived his entrance; 
 till, hearing a voice, in a lone of friendly surprise, exclaim, 
 " Alciphron I " I looked up, and in this legionary Chief recognized 
 a young Roman of rank , who had held a military command , the 
 year before, at Athens, and was one of the most distinguished visit- 
 ors of the Garden. It was no time , however, for courtesies ; he 
 was proceeding with cordiality to greet me, but, having heard him 
 
 1 A rank resembling that of Colonel.
 
 104 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 order my instant release , I could wait for no more. Acknowledging 
 his kindness but by a grasp of the hand , I flew off, like one frantic , 
 through the streets , and , in a few minutes , was on the river. 
 
 My sole hope had been to reach the grottos before any of the 
 detached parlies should arrive , and , by a timely flight across the 
 desert, rescue, at least, Alethe from their fury. The ill-fated delay 
 that had occurred rendered this hope almost desperate ; but the tran- 
 quillity I found every where as I proceeded down the river, and the 
 fond confidence I still cherished in the sacredness of the Hermit's 
 retreat , kept my heart from giving way altogether under its 
 terrors. 
 
 Between the current and my oars , the boat flew, like wind, along 
 the waters ; and I was already near the rocks of the ravine , when 
 I saw, turning out of the canal into the river, a barge crowded 
 with people , and glittering with arms ! How did I ever survive the 
 shock of lhat sight ? The oars dropped , as if struck.out of my hands, 
 into the water, and I sat , helplessly gazing , as the terrific vision 
 approached. In a few minutes , the current brought us together ; 
 and I saw, on the deck of the barge , Alethe and the Hermit sur- 
 rounded by soldiers ! 
 
 We were already passing each other when , with a desperate 
 effort , I sprang from my boat and lighted upon the edge of their 
 vessel. I knew not what I did, for despair was my only prompter. 
 Snatching at the sword of one of the soldiers, as I stood tottering on 
 the edge , I had succeeded in wresting it out of his hands , when , 
 at the same moment, I received a thrust of a lance from one of his 
 comrades , and fell backward into the river. I can just remember 
 rising again and making a grasp at the side of the vessel , but the 
 shock, the fainlness from my wound , deprived me of all conscious- 
 ness , and a shriek from Alethe , as I sunk , is all I can recollect of 
 what followed. 
 
 Would I had then died ! - Yet , no , Almighty Being , I should 
 have died in darkness , and I have lived to know Thee ! 
 
 On returning to my senses , I found myself reclined on a couch, in 
 a splendid apartment, the whole appearance of which being Grecian, 
 I , for a moment , forgot all that had passed , and imagined myself 
 in my own home at Athens. But too soon the whole dreadful certainty 
 flashed upon me , and , starling wildly disabled as I was from 
 my couch , I called loudly, and with the shriek of a maniac , on 
 Alethe. 
 
 I was in the house , I found , of my friend and disciple , the 
 young Tribune , who had made the Governor acquainted with my 
 name and condition, and had received me under his roof, when 
 brought, bleeding and insensible . to Anlinoe. From him I now
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 105 
 
 '. 
 learned al once , for 1 could not wail for details , the sum of all 
 
 that had happened in that dreadful interval. Melanius was no more, 
 Alethe still alive , but in prison ! 
 
 " Take me to her" I had but lime to say" lake me to her 
 instantly, and let me die by her side,' 1 -when , nature again failing 
 under such shocks , I relapsed into insensibility. In this state f 
 continued for near an hour, and , on recovering , found Ihe Tribune 
 by my side. The horrors , he said , of the Forum were , for that 
 day, over, but what the morrow might bring , he shuddered to 
 contemplate. His nature , it was plain , revolted from the inhuman 
 duties in which he was engaged. Touched by the agonies he saw 
 me suffer, he , in some degree , relieved them , by promising that T 
 should, at night-fall, be conveyed to the prison , and, if possible, 
 through his influence, gain access to Alelhe. She might yel , he 
 added , be saved , could I succeed in persuading her lo comply wilh 
 fthe terms of the edict, and make sacrifice to the Gods. "Otherwise," 
 said he, " there is no hope , the vindictive Orcus, who has resisted 
 even this short respite of mercy, will, to-morrow, inexorably demand 
 his prey." 
 
 He then related to me, at my own request, though every word 
 was torture, all the harrowing details of the proceeding before the 
 Tribunal. " I have seen courage," said he , in its noblest forms , 
 in the field ; but Ihe calm intrepidity wilh which that aged Hermit 
 endured torments which it was hardff^less torment to witness 
 surpassed all that I could have conceived of human fortitude ! " 
 
 My poor Alelhe, too, in describing to me her conduct, the 
 brave man wept like a child. Overwhelmed , he said, at first by her 
 apprehensions for my safety, she had given way to a full burst of 
 womanly weakness. But no sooner was she brought before the 
 Tribunal and the declaration of her faith was demanded of her , 
 than a spirit almost supernatural seemed to animate her whole form. 
 "She raised her eyes," said he, "calmly, but wilh fervour, to 
 heaven , while a blush was the only sign of mortal feeling on her 
 features ; and the clear , sweet , and untrembling voice , wilh 
 which she pronounced her dooming words , ' I am a Christian ! 
 sent a thrill of admiration and pity throughout the multitude. Her 
 youth, her loveliness, affected all hearts, and a cry of 'Save the 
 young maiden ! ' was heard in all directions." 
 
 The implacable Orcus, however, would not hear of mercy. Re- 
 senting , as it appeared, with all his deadliest rancour, not only her 
 own escape from his loils , but the aid wilh which , so fatally to his 
 views, she had assisted mine, he demanded loudly, and in the 
 name of the insulted sanctuary of Isis , her instant death. It was but 
 bv the firm intervention of the Governor, who shared the general
 
 JOG THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 sympathy in her fate, that the delay of another day was accorded, to 
 give a chance to the young maiden of yet recalling her confession , 
 and thus affording some pretext for saving her. 
 
 Even in yielding reluctantly to this brief respite , the inhuman 
 Priest would accompany it with some mark of his vengeance. 
 Whether for the pleasure (observed the Tribune) of mingling 
 mockery with his cruelty, or as a warning to her of the doom she 
 must ultimately expect , he gave orders that there should be tied 
 round her brow one of those chaplets of coral ', with which it is the 
 custom of young Christian maidens to array themselves on the day 
 of their martyrdom; "and thus fearfully adorned," said he, 
 " she was led away, amid the gaze of the pitying multitude , to 
 prison." 
 
 With these details the short interval till nightfall , every minute 
 of which seemed an age, was occupied. As soon as it grew dark , 
 I was placed upon a litter, my wound , though not dangerous , re- 
 quiring such a conveyance , and conducted , under the guidance 
 of my friend, to the prison. Through his interest with the guard , 
 we were without difficulty admitted , and I was borne into the 
 chamber where the maiden lay immured. Even the veteran guardian 
 of the place seemed touched with compassion for his prisoner, 
 and, supposing her to be asleep, had the litter placed gently 
 near her. 
 
 She was half reclining , with her face hid in her hands , upon a 
 couch , at the foot of which stood an idol , over whose hideous 
 features a lamp of naphtha, hanging from the ceiling, shed a wild 
 and ghastly glare. On a table before the image stood a censer, with 
 a small vessel of incense beside it , one grain of which , thrown 
 voluntarily into the flame , would , even now , save that precious 
 life. So strange , so fearful was the whole scene , that I almost 
 doubled its reality. Alelhe, my own, happy Alethe! can it, I 
 thought , be thou that I look upon ! 
 
 She now r , slowly and with difficulty, raised her head from the 
 couch 5 on observing which, the kind Tribune withdrew , and we 
 were left alone. There was a paleness, as of death, over her features; 
 and those eyes , which , when last I saw them , were but too bright , 
 loo happy for this world, looked dim and sunken. In raising herself 
 up, she put- her hand, as if from pain, to her forehead, whose 
 marble hue but appeared more death-like from those red bands that 
 lay so awfully across it. 
 
 After wandering vaguely for a minute , her eyes rested upon me, 
 and , with a shriek , half terror, half joy, she sprung from the 
 
 1 " Une de ces conronnes de grains de corail doal les vierges martyres oc- 
 iiaicnt leurs clievenx en allaut a la mort." Les
 
 THE EPICUREAN 107 
 
 couch , and sunk upon her knees by my side. She had believed me 
 dead ; and , even now , scarcely trusted her senses. " My husband ! 
 my love !" she exclaimed ; " oh , if thou comest to call me from 
 this world , behold I am ready ! " In saying thus , she pointed wildly 
 to that ominous wrealh , and then dropped her head down upon my 
 knee, as if an arrow had pierced it. 
 
 " Alethe ! " I cried , terrified to the very soul by that mysterious 
 pang , and the sound of my voice seemed to reanimate her , she 
 looked up , with a faint smile in my face. Her thoughts , which had 
 evidently been wandering , became collected , and , in her joy at 
 my safely, her sorrow at my suffering , she forgot wholly the fate 
 that impended over herself. Love , innocent love , alone occupied 
 all her thoughts -, and the tenderness w ith which she spoke , oh , 
 at any other moment, how I would have listened, have lingered 
 upon, have blessed every word ! 
 
 But the time flew fast the dreadful morrow was approaching. 
 Already I saw her writhing in the hands of the torturer, the 
 flames , the racks . the w heels were before my eyes ! Half frantic 
 with the fear that her resolution w as fixed , I flung myself from my 
 litter, in an agony of weeping, and supplicated her, by the love she 
 bore me , by the happiness that awaited us , by her own merciful 
 God , who was* too good to require such a sacrifice , by all that 
 the most passionate anxiety could dictate, I implored that she 
 would avert from us the doom that was coming , and but for once 
 comply with the vain ceremony demanded of her. 
 
 Shrinking from me, as I spoke , but with a look more of sorrow 
 than reproach, "What, thou, too!" she said mournfully,- 
 " thou , into whose spirit I had fondly hoped the same heavenly 
 truth had descended as into my own ! oh, be not thou leagued with 
 those who would tempt me to ' make shipwreck of my faith ! ' 
 Thou , who couldst alone bind me to life , use not thy power -, but 
 let me die , as He I serve hath commanded , die for the Truth. 
 Remember the holy lessons we heard oi those nights , those happy 
 nights , when both the Present and Future smiled upon us, when 
 even the gift of eternal life came more welcome to my soul , from 
 the blessed conviction that thou wert to be a sharer in it ; shall I 
 forfeit now that divine privilege ? shall I deny the true God , whom 
 we then learned to love ? 
 
 " No , my own betrothed," she continued, pointing to the two 
 rings on her finger, "behold these pledges, they are both 
 sacred. I should have been as true to thee as I am now to Heaven, 
 nor in that life to which I am hastening shall our love be for- 
 gotten. Should the baptism of fire , through which I shall pass to- 
 morrow, make me worthy to be heard before the Throne of Grace,
 
 108 THE EPICUREAN. 
 
 I will intercede for Ihy soul I will pray thai it may yet share with 
 mine that 'inheritance, immortal and undefileoV which mercy 
 offers, and that thou, my dear mother, and I 
 
 She here dropped her voice ; the momentary animation , with 
 which devotion and affection had inspired her, vanished ; and a 
 darkness overspread all her features , a livid darkness , like the 
 coming of death that made me shudder through every limb. 
 Seizing my hand convulsively , and looking at me with a fearful 
 eagerness , as if anxious to hear some consoling assurance from my 
 own lips, "Believe me," she continued, " not all the torments 
 they are preparing for me , not even this deep , burning pain in 
 my brow, which they will hardly equal , could be half so dreadful 
 to me , as the thought that I leay,e thee " 
 
 Here , her voice again failed ; her head sunk upon my arm , and 
 merciful God , let me forget what I then felt , I saw that she 
 was dying i Whether I uttered any cry, I know not ; but the Tri- 
 bune came rushing into the chamber, and , looking on the maiden , 
 said , with a face full of horror, " It is but loo true ! " 
 
 He then told me in a low voice, what he had just learned from the 
 guardian of the prison , that the band round the young Christian's 
 brow was oh horrible cruelty! a compound of the most deadly 
 poison , the hellish invention of Orcus , to satiate* his vengeance , 
 and make the fale of his poor viclim secure. My first movement was 
 to untie that fatal wreath , but it would not come away it would 
 not come away ! 
 
 Roused by the pain , she again looked in my face ; but, unable to 
 speak 7 look hastily from her bosom the small silver cross which she 
 had brought with her from my cave. Having pressed it to her own 
 lips , she held it anxiously to mine , and seeing me kiss the holy 
 symbol with fervour, looked happy, and smiled. The agony of 
 death seemed to have passed away ; there came suddenly over her 
 features a heavenly light , some share of which I felt descending 
 into my own soul, and,in a few minules more, she expired in 
 my arms. 
 
 Here ends the Manuscript j but , on the outer cover there is , 
 in t/ie hand-writing of a much later period , the following 
 Notice , extracted , as it appears , from some Egyptian 
 Marty rology : 
 
 / 
 
 " Alciphron, an Epicurean philosopher, converted to Chris- 
 tianity, A. D. 257 , by a young Egyptian maiden , who suffered mar-
 
 THE EPICURKAV 109 
 
 (yrdom in that year. Immediately upon her death lie betook him- 
 self lo the desfert , and lived a life , it is said , of much holiness and 
 penitence. During the persecution under Dioclesian , his sufferings 
 for the faith were most exemplary; and, being at length, at an 
 advanced age , condemned to hard labour, for refusing to comply 
 with an Imperial edict , he died at the brass mines of Palestine , 
 A. D. 297. 
 
 " As Alciphron held the opinions maintained since by Arius .hi- 
 memory has not been spared by Alhanasian writers , who , among 
 other charges, accuse him of having been addicted lo the supersti- 
 tions of Egypt. For this calumny, however, there appears lo be no 
 better foundation than a circumstance, recorded by one of his 
 brother monks, that there was found, after his death, ,a small 
 metal mirror, like those used in the ceremonies of Isis , suspended 
 round his neck."
 
 NOTES. 
 
 PAGE 10. For the importance attached to dreams by the ancients, see 
 Jortin , Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. i . p. go. 
 
 PAGE 12. " The Pillar of Pillars" more properly, perhaps, "the 
 column of the pillars." v. Abdallatif, Relation de l'Egypte,zn<l the notes 
 of M. de Sacy. The great portico round this column (formerly designated 
 Pompey's, but now known to have been erected in honour of Dioclesian), 
 was still standing , M. de Sacy says, in the time of Saladin. vid. Lord Va- 
 lentia's Travels. 
 
 Ib. Ammianus thus speaks of the state of Alexandria in his time, 
 which was, 1 believe, as late as the end of the fourth century : " Ne 
 nunc quidem in eadem urbe Doctrinae variae silent , non apud nos exaruit 
 Musica nee Harmonia conticuit." Lib. 22. 
 
 PACK 14. From the character of the features of the Sphinx, and a pas- 
 sage in Herodotus, describing the Egyptians as t*t*ity%fott nen oi/\oTf;xc, 
 Yolney, Bruce , and a few others , have concluded that the ancient inha- 
 bitants of Egypt were negroes. But this opinion is contradicted by a host 
 of authorities. See Castera's notes upon Browne's Travels , for the result 
 of Blumenbach's dissection of a variety of mummies. Denon, speaking of 
 the character of the heads represented in the ancient sculpture and paint- 
 ing of Egypt, says, "Celle des femmes ressemble encore a la figure des 
 jolies femmes d'aujourd'hui : de la rondeur, de la volupte, le nez petit, 
 les yeux longs, peu ouverts," etc., .etc. He could judge, too, he says, 
 from the female mummies, " qne leurs cheveux etaient longs et lisses, 
 que le caractere de la tetede la plupart tenait du beau style." " Je rap- 
 portai," lie adds, "une tete de vieille femme qui etart aussi belle qne 
 celles de 3Iichel Ange, et leur ressemblait beaucoup." 
 
 In a Description gene'rale de Thebes by Messrs. Jollois et Desvilliers , 
 they say, " Toutes les sculptures egyptiennes , depuis les plus grands 
 colosses de Thebes jusqu'aux plus petites idoles , ne rappelleut en aucune 
 manierc les traits de la figure des negres, outre que les tetes des momies 
 des catacombes de Thebes presentent des profils droits." See also M. Jo- 
 mard's Description of Syene and the Cataracts , Baron Larrey , on the 
 " conformation physique" of the Egyptians, etc. 
 
 De Pauw , the great depredator of everything Egyptian, has, on the 
 authority' of a passage in .Elian , presumed to affix to the countrywomen
 
 112 NOTES. 
 
 of Cleopatra the stigma of complete and unredeemed ugliness. The fol- 
 lowing line of Euripides, however, is an answer to such charges : 
 
 In addition to the celebrated instances of Cleopatra, Rhodope, etc. we 
 are told , on the authority of Manetho ( as given by Zoega from Georgius 
 Syncellus), of a beautiful queen of Memphis, IVitocris, of the sixth dy- 
 nasty, who, in addition to other charms and perfections, was (rather 
 inconsistently with the negro hypothesis) a.vS- THV ;t/>oiav. 
 
 See , for a tribute to the beauty of the Egyptian women , Montesquieu's 
 Temple de Guide. 
 
 PAGE 17. " Among beds of lotus Jlowers." v. Strabo. 
 
 Ib. " Isle of the golden Fenus.""On trouve une ile appelee Ve- 
 nus-Doree , ou le Champ d'Or, avarA de remonter jusqu'a Memphis." 
 Voyages de Pythagore. 
 
 PAGE 18. For an account of the Table of Emerald , v. Lettre sur VO- 
 rigine des Dieux d'Egypte. De Pauw supposes it to be a modern fiction 
 of the Arabs. Many writers have fancied that the art of making gold was 
 the great secret that lay hid under the forms of Egyptian theology. " La 
 science hermetique, " says the Benedictine, Pernetz, " 1'art sacerdotal 
 etait la source de tontes les richesses des rois d'Egypte, et 1'objet de ces 
 mysteres si caches sous le voile de leur pretendue religion." Fables Egyp- 
 liennes. The hieroglyphs , that formerly covered the Pyramids, are sup- 
 posed by some of these writers to relate to the same art. See Mutns liber, 
 Riipullce. 
 
 PAGE 19." By reflecting the sun's rays," says Clarke, speaking of the 
 Pyramids , " they appeared white as snow." 
 
 Ib. For Bubastis, the Diana of the Egyptians, v. Jablonski , lib. 5. 
 
 c. 4. ^ 
 
 PAGE 20. " The light coracle^," etc. v. Amcilhon, " Jlisloirc de IQ. 
 Navigation et du Commerce des Egypliens sous les Ptole'me'es." See also, 
 for a description of the various kinds of boats used on the Nile , Maillet , 
 torn. i. p. 98. 
 
 Il>.\. Maurice, Appendix to Ruins of Babylon. Another reason, 
 he says, for their worship of the Ibis, "founded en their love of geo- 
 metry, was (according to Plutarch), that the space between its legs, 
 when parted asunder, as it walks, together with its beak, forms a com- 
 plete equilateral triangle." From the examination of the embalmed birds, 
 found in the Catacombs of Saccara, there seems to be no doubt that the 
 Ibis was the same kind of bird as that described by Bruce, under the 
 Arabian name of Abou llannes. 
 
 PAGE ar. " The sislrum , " etc. " Isis est genius," says Servius, 
 .'Egypti , qui per sistri motum, quod gerit indextra, Nili accessus reces- 
 susqno significat."
 
 NOTES. in 
 
 PAGE 22. ' The ivy that encircled it ," tie. The ivy was consecrated 
 to Osiris, v. Diodor. Sic. i. 10. 
 
 PAGE 25. " The small mirror.'" "Quelques unes," says Dupuis, 
 describing the processions of Isis, " portaient des miroirs attaches a leurs 
 epaules , afin de multiplier et de porter dans tous les sens les images de 
 ladeesse." Origine des Culles, torn. 8. p. 847. A mirror, it appears, was 
 also one of the emblems in the mysteries of Bacchus. 
 
 Ib. ''There is, to the north of Memphis," etc. "Tout prouve 
 que le territoire de Sakkarah etait la Necropolis au sud de Memphis, et 
 le faubourg oppose a celui-ci , ou sont les pyramides de Gizeh , une autre 
 ville des Morts, qui terminait Memphis au nord." Denon. 
 
 There is nothing known with certainty as to the site of Memphis , but 
 it will be perceived that the description of its position given by the Epi- 
 curean corresponds, in almost every particular, with that which M. Maillet 
 (the French consul, for many years, at Cairo) has left us. It must be 
 always borne in mind, too, that of the distance between the respective 
 places here mentioned , we have no longer any accurate means of judging. 
 
 Ib. "Pyramid beyond pyramid." " Multas olim pyramidas fuisse 
 e ruinis arguitur." Zoega. Vansleb, who visited more than ten of the 
 small pyramids, is of opinion that there must have originally been a hun- 
 dred in this place. 
 
 See, for the lake to the northward of Memphis, Shaw's Travels , 
 p. 002. 
 
 PAGE 25. " The Theban beetle." "On voit en Egypte, apresla re- 
 traite du Nil et la fecondation des terres, le limon convert d'nue multi- 
 tude de scarabees. Un pareil phenomene a du sembler aux Egyptiens le 
 plus propre a peindre une nouvelle existence " M. Jomard. Partly for 
 the same reason, and partly for another, still more fanciful, the early 
 Christians used to apply this emblem to Christ. " Bonus ille scarabaeus 
 meus," says St. Augustine, "non ea tantum de causa quod unigenitus^ 
 quod ipsemet sui auctor mortalium speciem induerit, sed quod in hac 
 nostra faece sese volutaverit, et ex hac ipsa nasci voluerit." 
 
 Ib. "Enshrined within a case of crystal" "Les Egyptiens ont 
 fait aussi , pour conserver leurs morts, des caisses de verre." De Pauw. 
 He mentions, in another place, a sort of transparent substance, which 
 the Ethiopians used for the same purpose, and which was frequently 
 mistaken by the Greeks for glass. 
 
 Ib. " Among the emblems of death." " Un pretre qui brise la tige 
 d'une fleur, des oiseaux qui s'envolent, sont les emblemes de la mortet 
 de 1'ame qui se separe du corps." Denon. 
 
 Theseus employs the same image in the Phaedra : 
 
 Opm yetf { Ttf ex- ;> *<}>*VTOC n 
 TltiS'tip c ifov vrixfov Of fji.Ka-a.tr a. /KOI. 
 
 Ib. "The singular appearance of a Cross so frequently recurring 
 
 8
 
 114 NOTES. 
 
 among the hieroglyphics of Egypt, had excited the curiosity of the Chris- 
 tians at a very early period of ecclesiastical history; and as some of tin- 
 Priests, who were acquainted with the meaning of the hieroglyphics, 
 became Converted to Christianity, the secret transpired. ' The converted 
 heathens,' says Socrates Scholasticus , 'explained the symbol, and de- 
 clared that it signified Life to Come.'" Clarke. 
 
 Lipsius, therefore, erroneously supposes the Cross to have been an 
 emblem peculiar to the Christians. See, on this subject, Histoire de.\ 
 Juifs, liv. 9. c. 16. 
 
 It is singular enough that while the Cross was held sacred among the 
 Egyptians, not only the custom of marking the forehead with the sign 
 of the Cross, but Baptism and the consecration of the bread In the Eu- 
 charist were imitated in the mysterious ceremonies of Mitra. TcrtitH. d< 
 Proscriptione Hereticorum . 
 
 Zoega is of opinion that the Cross found (for the first time, it is said) 
 on the destruction of the temple of Serapis by the Christians , could not 
 have been the crux ansata ; as nothing is more common than this emblem 
 on all the Egyptian monuments. 
 
 PAGE 26. " Stood shadowiest." It was an idea entertained among 
 the ancients that the Pyramids were so constructed ( " mecanica construc- 
 tione, " says Ammianus Marcellinus ) as never to cast any shadow. 
 
 PAGE 27. " Rfiodope."rom the story of Rhodope , Zoega thinks , 
 " videntur Arabes ansam arripuisse ut in una ex pyramid thus, genii loco, 
 habitare dicerent mulierem nudam insignis pulchritudinis, quae aspectu 
 suo homines insanire facial." De Usu Obeliscorum. See also FEgypte d< 
 Murtadi, par Fattier. 
 
 PAGE 28. " The gales of oblivion." Apud Memphim ameas quasdam 
 portas, quae Lethes etCocyti (hoc est oblivionis et lamentationis) appel- 
 lentur, aperiri , gravem asperumque edentes sonum." Zoega. 
 
 PAGE 29. "A file of lifeless bodies." See, for the custom of burying 
 the dead upright ("post funus stantia busto corpora, " as Statins des- 
 cribes it), Dr. Clarke's preface to thesd section of his fifth volume. The\ 
 used to insert precious stones in the place of the eyes. " Les yeux etaient 
 formes d'emeraudes, de turquoises , etc." v. Masoudy , quoted by Qua- 
 Iremere. 
 
 PAGE 5o. " It seemed as if every echo." See, for the echoes in the 
 pyramids, Plutarch, de Placitis Philosoph. 
 
 PAGE 3i. " Pale, phantom-like shapes." "Ce moment heureux(de 
 1'autopsie) etait prepare par des scenes eft'rayantes, par des alternatives d: 
 crainte et de joie, de liimieres et de tenebres, par la Incur des eclairs, par 
 le bruit terrible de la foudre qu'on imitait, et par tics apparitions do 
 spectres, des illusions magiques , qui frappaient les yeux el les oreilles 
 lout ensemble." Dupnis 
 
 PACK 5a. " Serpents 'if/ire." 11 Ces considerations me porteut ii pen-
 
 
 NOTES. 115 
 
 sen que, dansles mysteres, ces phenomenes etaient bcaucoup mieux exe- 
 cutes et sans comparaison plus terribles a 1'aicle de quelque composition 
 pyrique , qui est restee cachee comme celle du feu gregeois." DC. Pauw. 
 
 PAGE 52." The burning of those reed-beds of Ethiopia.' 1 ' 1 " II n'y a 
 point d'autre moyen que de porter le feu dans ces forets de roseaux, qui 
 repandent alors dans tout le pays une lumiere aussi considerable que cellc 
 du jour meme." Maillet, torn. I , p. 68. 
 
 Ib. " The sound of torrents." The Nile, Pliny tells us, was admit- 
 ted into the Pyramid. 
 
 PAGE 53. " / had almost given myself up." "On exercait," says 
 Dupuis , " les recipiendaires, pendant plusieurs jours, a traverscr a la 
 nage une grande etendued'eau. Onles 1 y jetait> etce n'etait qu'avec peine 
 qu'ils s'en retiraient. On appliquait le fer et le feu sur leurs membres. On 
 les faisait passer a travers les flammes. " 
 
 The aspirants were often in considerable danger, and Pythagoras, \\c 
 are told, nearly lost his life in the trials, v. Reclierches sur les Initiations, 
 par Robin. 
 
 PAGE 56. For the two cups used in the mysteries, see Histoire dcs 
 Juifs, liv. 9. c. 16. 
 
 Ib. " Osiris." Osiris, under the name of Serapis, was supposed to 
 rule over the subterranean world; and performed the office of Pluto, in 
 the mythology of the Egyptians. "They believed, " says Dr. Pritchard , 
 "that Serapis presided over the region of departed souls, during the 
 period of their absence, when languishing without bodies, and that the 
 dead were deposited in his palace." Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology. 
 
 Ib. " To cool the lips of the Dead." "Frigidam illani aquam post 
 mortem, tanquam Hebes poculum, expetitam." Zocga. The Lethe of 
 the Egyptians was called Ameles. See Dupuis, torn. 8. p. 65i. 
 
 PACK 07. " A draught divine" Diodor. Sicul. 
 
 PAGE 58. " Grasshopper, symbol of initiation." Hor. Appol. The 
 grasshopper was also consecrated to the sun , as being musical. 
 
 Ib. " Isle of Gardens" The isle Antirrhodus, near Alexandria. 
 
 Maillet. 
 
 Ib. " Vineyard at Anlhylla." See Athen. Deipnos. 
 
 PAGE 5g. " We can see those stars." " On voyait en plein jour par 
 ces ouvertures les etoiles, et meme quelques planetes en leur plus grande 
 latitude septentrionale ; et les pretres avaient bientot profile de ce phe- 
 nomene pour observer a diverses heures le passage des etoiles." Setlios. 
 Strabo menlions certain caves or pits , constructed for the purpose of as- 
 tronomical observations, which lay in the Zelopolitaii prefecture, beyond 
 Heliopolis
 
 116 WOTES. 
 
 PAGE 5g. " A plantain.' 1 ' This tree was dedicated to the Genii of the 
 Shades , from its being an emblem of repose and cooling airs. "Cui m- 
 minet musa? folium, quod ab Iside infera geniisque ei addictis manu geri 
 solitum , umbram requiemque et auras frigidas subindigitare videtur. " 
 Zoega- 
 
 PAGE 4 2 - " He spoke of the pre-existence of the soul,' 1 etc. For a 
 full account of the doctrines which are here represented as having been 
 taught to the initiated in the Egyptian mysteries , the reader may consult 
 Dupuis , Pritchard's Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology, etc. etc, 
 " L'on decouvrait 1'origine de 1'ame, sa chute sur la terre, a travers les 
 spheres etles elemens, et son retour au lieu de son origine... C'etait ici la 
 partie la plus metaphysique , ctque ne pouvait guere entendre le commun 
 des inities , mais dont on lui donnait le spectacle par des figures et de* 
 spectres allegoriques." Dupuis. 
 
 Ib. " Those fields of radiance." See Beausobre, liv. 5. c. 4- for 
 the "terre bienheureuse et lumineuse" which the Manicheans sup- 
 posed God to inhabit. Plato , too, speaks (in Phced.) of a "pure land lying 
 in the pure sky (TIIV yni x9-t/>*v v *3-*^ xsicr-9-ai ooava), the abode of 
 divinity, of innocence, and of life." 
 
 PAGE 5. " Tracing it from the first moment of earthward desire.^ 
 In the original construction of this work, there was an episode introduced 
 here ( which I have since published in another form), illustrating the 
 doctrine of the fall of the soul by the Oriental fable of the Loves of the 
 Angels. 
 
 PAGE 44- " Restoring her lost wings." Damascius, in his Life of Isi- 
 dorus, says, "Ex antiquissimis Philosophis Pythagoram et Platonem 
 Isidorus ut Deos coluit , et eorum animas alatas esse dixit quas in locum 
 superccelestem inque campum veritatis et pratum elevatas , divinis putavit 
 ideis pasci." A pud Phot. Bibliothec. 
 
 Ib. " A pale, moon-like meteor" Apuleius, in describing the mira- 
 culous appearances exhibited in the mysteries, says, " Nocte media 
 vidi solem candido coruscantem lumine." Metamorphos. lib. n. 
 
 Ib. " So entirely did the illusion of the scene," etc. In. tracing 
 the early connexion of spectacles with the ceremonies of religion , Vol- 
 taire says, " II y a bien plus , les veritables grandes tragedies, les repre- 
 sentations imposantes et terribles etaient les mysteres sacres qu'on cele- 
 brait dans les plus vastes temples du monde, en presence des seuls inities .- 
 c'etait la que les habits, les decorations, les machines etaient propres au 
 sujet; et le sujet etait la vie presente et la vie future." Des divers cliange- 
 mens arrive's a I art tragique. 
 
 To these scenic representations in the Egyptian mysteries , there is 
 evidently an allusion in the vision of Ezekiel , where the spirit shows him 
 the abominations which the Israelites learned in Egypt : " Then said 
 he unto me, ' Son of man, hast thou seen v*hat the ancients of the house 
 of Israel do in the dark , every man in the chambers of his imagery ? ' ): 
 Chap. 8.
 
 NOTES. 117 
 
 PACK 46." The Seven Tables of stone."' 1 Bernard, comte de la 
 Marche Trevisane, iustruit par la lecture des livres anciens, dit qu'Hermes 
 trouva sept tables dans la vallee d'Hebron, sur lesquelles etaient graves 
 les principes des arts liberaux. " Fables L'gyptiennes. See Jablonski de 
 stills Herm. 
 
 Ib.-" Beside the goat ofMendes" For an account of the animal 
 worship of the Egyptians , see De Pauw , torn. 2. 
 
 76. " The Isiac serpents.' 1 '' " On augurait bien des serpens isiaques 
 lorsqu'ils goutaient 1'offrande et se trainaient lentement autour de 1'au- 
 tel." De Pauw. 
 
 PACK 47- "Hence, the festivals and hymns," etc. For An account 
 of the various festivals at the different periods of the sun's progress , in 
 the spring , and in the autumn , see Dupuis and Pritchard. 
 
 Ib. " The Mysteries of the Night." v. Alhenag. Leg. pro Christ. 
 p. i55. 
 
 PACE 48. "A peal, like that of thunder." See, for some curious 
 remarks on the mode of imitating thunder and lightning in the ancient 
 mysteries, De Pauw, torn, i, p. 5a3. The machine with which these 
 effects were produced on the stage was called a ceraunoscope. 
 
 PAGE 5o. "Windings, capriciously intricate." In addition to the ac- 
 counts which the ancients have left us of the prodigious excavations in all 
 parts of Egypt , the fifteen hundred chambers under the Labyrinth the 
 subterranean stables of the Theba'id, containing a thousand horses the 
 crypts of Upper Egypt passing under the bed of the Nile, etc., etc. the 
 stories and traditions current among the Arabs still preserve the memory 
 of those wonderful substructions. "Un Arabe," says Paul Lucas, "qui 
 etait avec nous, m'assura qu'etant entre autrefois dans le labyrinthe, il 
 avail marche dans les chambres souterraines jusqu'en un lieu ou il y avait 
 une grande place environnee de plusieurs niches qui ressemblaient a de 
 petites boutiques, d'ou Ton entrait dans d'autres allees et dans des 
 chambres , sans pouvoir en trouver la fin. " In speaking, too, of the arcades 
 along the Nile, near Cosseir, " Us me dirent meme que ces souterrains 
 etaient si profonds , qu'il y en avait qui allaient a trois journees de la, et 
 qu'ils conduisaient dans un pays ou Ton voyait de beaux jardins, qu'on y 
 trouvait de belles maisons," etc., etc. 
 
 See also in M. Quatremere's Memoires sur I'Egypte, torn. i. p. i4 2 > 
 an account of a subterranean reservoir, said to have been discovered at 
 Kais, and of the expedition undertaken by a party of persons, in a long 
 narrow boat, for the purpose of exploring it. " Leur voyage avait etc de 
 six jours, dont les quatre premiers furent employes a penetrer les bords , 
 les deux autres a revenir au lieu d'ou ils etaient partis : pendant tout cet 
 intervalle ils nepurent atteindrel'extremite du bassin. L'emir Ala-eddin- 
 Tamboga, gouverneur de Behnesa, ecrivit ces details au sultan, qui en 
 fut extremement surpris." 
 
 PAGE 5i. " A small island in the. centre of Lake, Mceris" Theposi^
 
 118 NOTES. 
 
 tion here giveu to Lake Moeris, in making it the immediate boundary of 
 the city of Memphis to the south , corresponds exactly with the site as- 
 signed to it hy Maillet : " Memphis avait encore a son midi un vaste 
 reservoir, par ou tout ce qui peut servir a. la commodite et a 1'agrement 
 de la vie leur etait voiture abondamment de toutes les parties de 1'E- 
 gypte. Ce lac, qui la terminait de ce cote-la ," etc., etc. T. 2. p. 7. 
 
 PAGE 52. " Ruins, rising blackly above the wave.' 1 '' " On voit sur la 
 rive orientale des antiquites qui sont presque entitlement sous les eaux." 
 Belzoni. 
 
 Ib. "Its thundering portals." " Quorundam autem domorum (in 
 L'abyrintho) talisest situs, ut adaperientibus foris toriitru intus terribile 
 existat." Pliny. 
 
 Ib." Leaves that serve as cups." Strabo. According to the French 
 translator of Strabo, it was the fruit of the faba sEgyptiaca, not the 
 leaf, that was used for this purpose. " Le x.iCa>f>iov," he says, "devait 
 s'entendre de la capsule ou fruit de cette plante, dont les Egyptiens se ser- 
 vaient comme d'un vase, imaginant que 1'eau du Nil y devenait deli- 
 cieuse. " 
 
 PAGE 54- " The fish of these waters, " etc. Milan, lib. 6. 82. 
 
 Ib. "Pleasure-boats or yachts" Called Thalamages, from the pa- 
 vilion on the deck. v. Strabo. 
 
 Ib. " Covered with beds of those pale, sweet roses." As April 
 is the season for gathering these roses ( See Malte-Brun's Economical 
 Calendar} , the Epicurean could not, of course, mean to say that he saw 
 them actually in flower. 
 
 PAGE 55. " The lizards upon the bank" "L'or et 1'azur brillent en 
 bandes longitudinales sur leur corps entier , et leur queue est du plus 
 beau bleu celeste." Sonnini. 
 
 Ib. "The canal through which we now sailed." " Un canal," 
 says Maillet, " tres profond et tres large y voituraitles eaax du Nil." 
 
 PAGE 56 "For a draught of whose flood , n etc. " Anciennement 
 on portait les eaux du Nil jusqu'en dta contrees fort eloignees , et surtout 
 chez les princesses du sang des Ptolemees, mariees dans des families 
 etrangeres." De Pauw. 
 
 PAGE 58. " Bearing each the name of' its owner." " Le nom du 
 mattre y etait ecrit pendant la nuit en lettres de feu." Maillet. 
 
 Ib. " Cups of that frail crystal" called Alassontes. For their 
 brittleness Martial is an authority : 
 
 Tolle , puer, calices , tcpiclique toreumata Nili , 
 Et mill! secura pocula trade nianu.
 
 NOTES. 119 
 
 PAGE 58. " Bracelets of the black beans of Abyssinia," 1 The }>can of 
 the Glycyne, which is so beautiful as to be strung into necklaces and 
 bracelets, is generally known by the name of the black bean of Abyssinia. 
 Niebuhr. 
 
 Ib.~-" Sweet lotus-wood flute." See M. Villoteau on the rnusictil 
 instruments of the Egyptians. 
 
 Ib. " Sliine like the brow of Mount Atlas at ;g/i/." Solinus speaks 
 of the snowy summit of Mount Atlas glittering with flames at night. 
 In the account of the Periplus of llanno, as well as in that of Eudoxus , 
 we read that as those navigators were coasting this part of Africa, torrents 
 of light were seen to fall on the sea. 
 
 PAGE 5g. " The tears of Isis" "Per lacrymas, vero, Isidis, intel- 
 ligo effluvia quaedam Lunae, quibustantam vim videtur tribuisse jEg\pti.' 
 Jablonski.\{e is of opinion that the superstition of the Nucla, or mira- 
 culous drop, is a relic of the veneration paid to the dews , as the tears 
 of Isis. 
 
 Ib. " The rustling of the acacias ," etc. Travels of Captain Man- 
 gles. 
 
 Ib. " Supposed to rest in the Valley of the Moon.' 1 ' 1 Plutarch 
 Dupuis, torn. 10. The Manicheans held the same belief. See Bcausobrc , 
 p. 565. 
 
 PAGE 60. " Sothis , the fair Star of the Waters." Ttfuyoyoi is the 
 epithet applied to this star by Plutarch , de Isid. 
 
 Ib. " Was its birth-star." 'H2aSfac T*TO> jtmrtmc x.<tTttf%ovro, T; 
 sic TOT X09-/XOT. Porphyr. de Antro Nymph. 
 
 PAGE 62. " Golden Mountains ." v. Wilfort on Egypt and tlic Nile, 
 Asiatic Researches. 
 
 Ib. " Sweet-smelling wood." " A I'epoque de la crue, le Nil Vert 
 charrie les planches d'un bois qui a uue odeur semblable a celle de 1'eu- 
 cens." Qualremere. 
 
 Ib." Barges full ofbees"Maillel. 
 
 PAGE 65. " Such a profusion of the white flowers, " etc. " On les 
 voit commejadis cueillir dans les champs des tiges du lotus, signes du de- 
 bordement et presages de 1'abondance; ils s'enveloppent les bras et le 
 corps avec les longues tiges fleuries, et parcourent les rues," etc. Des- 
 cription des Tombeaux des Rois , par M. Costaz. 
 
 PAGE 64." While composing his Commentary on the Scripture*. ' 
 It was during the composition of his great critical work , the Hexapla . 
 that Origen employed these female scribes.
 
 120 NOTES. 
 
 PAGE 65. " That rich tapestry ," etc. 
 
 Won ego praetiilerim Babylonica picta superbe 
 Texta , Seruiramia qux variantur acu. 
 
 Martial. 
 
 PAGE j3. " The Place of fl'eeping." v. Wilford, Asiatic Researches, 
 vol. 5. p. 54o. 
 
 PAGE 76. " We had long since left this mountain behind. "The 
 voyages on the Rile are, under favourable circumstances , performed with 
 considerable rapidity. " En cinq ou six jours," says 3Iaillet, " on pour- 
 rait aisement remonter de 1'embouchure du ]\il a ses cataractes , ou des- 
 cendre des cataractes j usqu'a la mer." The great uncertainty of the navi- 
 gation is proved by what Belzoni tells us : " Nous ne mimes cette fois 
 que deux jours et deini pour faire le trajet du Caire a Melawi , auquel , 
 dans notre second voyage, nous avions employe dix-huit jours." 
 
 PAGE 77. " Those mighty statues , thatjling their shadows" " Elles 
 ont pres de vingt metres (61 pieds ) d'elevation ; et au lever du soleil leurs 
 ombres inimenses s'etendent au loin sur la chaineLibyenne."jye.ycr/pfw 
 ge'ne'rale de Thebes , par MM, Jollois et Desvilliers. 
 
 Ib. " Those cool alcoves." Paul Lucas. 
 
 PAGE 79. " Whose waters are half sweet, half bitter.''' Paul Lucas. 
 
 PAGE 81. " The Mountain of the Birds" There has been much 
 controversy among the Arabian writers , with respect to the site of this 
 mountain, for which see Quatremere, torn. i. art. Amoun. 
 
 PAGE 83. " The hand of labour had succeeded ," etc. The monks 
 of Mount Sinai (Shaw says) have covered over near four acres of the naked 
 rocks with fruitful gardens and orchards. 
 
 PAGE 84. " The image of a head.'" There was usually, Tertullian 
 tells us, the image of Christ on the communion-cups. 
 
 Ib. " Kissed her forehead." " We are rather disposed to infer," 
 says the present Bishop of Lincoln , in his very sensible work on Tertul- 
 lian, "that, at the conclusion of all their meetings for the purpose of 
 devotion , the early Christians were accustomed to give the kiss of peace, 
 in token of the brotherly love subsisting between them." 
 
 Ib. " Came thus secretly before day-break." It was among the 
 accusations of Celsus against the Christians, that they held their assem- 
 blies privately and contrary to law ; and one of the speakers in the 
 curious work of Minucius Felix calls the Christians " latebrosa et lucifu- 
 gax natio." 
 
 PAGE 85. "/ the middle of the Seven Galleys." See Macrizy's 
 account of these valleys, given by Quatremere,tom. i. p. 45o. 
 
 Ib. "Red Lakes of Niiria" For a striking description of this re-
 
 NOTES. 121 
 
 gion, see Jiamescs,* work which , though, in general, too technical 
 and elaborate, shows, in many passages, to what picturesque effects the 
 scenecy and mythology of Egypt may be made subservient. 
 
 PACK 85. "7/z the neighbourhood of Antinoe." From the position 
 assigned to Antinoe in this work , we should conclude that it extended 
 much farther to the north , than those few ruins of it that remain would 
 seem to indicate; so as to render the distance between the city and the 
 Mountain of the Birds considerably less than what it appears to be at 
 present. 
 
 PAGE 87. " When Isis, the pure star of lovers" v. Plutarch, de 
 Isid. 
 
 Ib, " Ere she again embrace her bridegroom sun." " Conjunctio 
 solis cum luna, quod est veluti utriusque connubium." Jablonski. 
 
 PAGE 89. " Of his walks a lion is the companion." M. Chateau- 
 briand has introduced Paul and his lion into the Martyrs , liv. 1 1 . 
 
 PAGE 91. "A 1 swallow," etc."3e vis dans le desert des hirondelles 
 d'un gris clair comme le sable sur lequel elles volent." Denon. 
 
 PAGE 92. " The comet that once desolated this world" In allud- 
 ing to Whiston's idea of a comet having caused the deluge , M. Girard , 
 having remarked that the word Typhon means a deluge , adds, "On ne 
 peut entendre par le temps du regne de Typhon que celui pendant lequel 
 le deluge iuonda la terre , temps pendant lequel on dut observer la comete 
 qui 1'occasionna , et dont 1'apparition fut , non seulement pour les peuples 
 de 1'Egypte et de 1'Ethiopie , mais encore pour tous les peuples , le pre- 
 sage funestede leur destruction presque totale." Description de la Pallee 
 de I'Egarement. 
 
 Ib. In which the Spirit of my dream," etc. "Many people," 
 said Origen, "have been brought over to Christianity by the Spirit of 
 God giving a sudden turn to their minds, and offering visions to them 
 either by day or night." On this Jortin remarks : "Why should it be 
 thought improbable that Pagans of good dispositions, but not free from 
 prejudices , should have been called by divine admonitions, by dreams or 
 visions , which might be a support to Christianity in those days of 
 distress? " 
 
 PAGE 94. " One of those earthen cups." Palladius, who lived some 
 time in Egypt, describes the monk Ptolemaeus, who inhabited the desert 
 of Scete, as collecting in earthen cups the abundant dew from the rocks. 
 Sibliothcc. Pat. torn. i5. 
 
 Ib. "It was to preserve, he said" etc. The brief sketch here 
 given of the Jewish dispensation agrees very much with the view taken 
 of it by Dr. Sumner, the present Bishop of Llandaff, in the first chap- 
 ters of his eloquent and luminous work , the Records oftlie Creation. 
 
 PAGE 95. " In vain did I seek the promise of immortality"" It is
 
 lii NOTES. 
 
 impossible to deny,'" says the Bishop of Llandaff, " that the sanctions ol 
 
 the Mosaic Law are altogether temporal It is, indeed, one of the facts 
 
 (hat can only be explained by acknowledging that he really acted under a 
 divine commission, promulgating a temporary law for a peculiar pur- 
 pose ," a much more candid and sensible jvay of treating this very diffi- 
 cult point, than by either endeavouring, like Warburton, to escape 
 from it into a paradox, or still worse , contriving, like Dr. Graves, to 
 increase its difficulty by explanation, v. On the Pentateuch. See also 
 Home's Introduction, etc. vol. i. pag. 226. 
 
 PAGE g5. " All are of the dust''' etc. While Voltaire, Yolney, etc. 
 refer to the Ecclesiastes, as abounding with tenets of materialism and 
 Epicurism, M. Des Voeux and others find in it strong proof of belief in 
 a future state. The chief difficulty lies in the chapter from which this 
 text is quoted ; and the mode of construction by which some writers at- 
 tempt to get rid of it, namely, by putting these texts into the mouth of 
 a foolish reasoner, appears forced and gratuitous, v. Dr. Hales's 
 Analysis. 
 
 PAGE 96. " The noblest and first-created ," etc. This opinion of the 
 Hermit may be supposed to have been derived from his master, Origen ; 
 but it is not easy to ascertain the exact doctrine of Origen on this subject. 
 In the Treatise on Prayer attributed to him, he asserts that God the 
 Father alone should be invoked, which , says Bayle, is "encherir sur 
 les heresies des Sociniens." Notwithstanding this, however, and some 
 other indications of, what was afterwards called, Arianism (such as the 
 opinion of the divinity being received by communication, which Milner 
 asserts to have been held by this Father), Origen was one of the authori- 
 ties quoted by Athanasius in support of his high doctrines of co-eternity 
 and co-essentiality. What Priestley says is, perhaps, the best solution of 
 these inconsistencies; "Origen, as well as Clemens Alexandrinus, has 
 been thought to favour the Arian principle ; but he did it only in words 
 and not in ideas." Early Opinions, etc. Whatever uncertainty, however, 
 there may exist with respect to the opinion of Origen himself on this 
 subject, there is no doubt that the doctrines of his immediate followers 
 were, at least, Anti-Athanasian. "So many Bishops of Africa," says 
 Priestley, " were , at this period (between the years 255 and 258) , Unita- 
 rians, that, Athanasius says, 'The Son of God,' meaning his divinity. 
 'was scarcely any longer preached in the churches.'" 
 
 Ib. " The restoration of the whole human race to purity and 
 happiness." This benevolent doctrine, which not only goes far to solve 
 the great problem of moral and physical evil, but which would, if re- 
 ceived more generally, tend to soften the spirit of uncharitableness , so 
 fatally prevalent among Christian sects, was maintained by that great 
 light of the early Church, Origeu, and has not wanted supporters among 
 more modern Theologians. That Tillotson was inclined to the opinion 
 appears from his sermon preached before the queen. Paley is supposed 
 to have held the same amiable doctrine; and Newton (the author of the 
 work on the Prophecies) is also among the supporters of it. Fora full 
 account of the arguments in favour of this opinion, derived both from
 
 NOTES. 123 
 
 reason and the express language of Scripture, see Dr. Soulhwood Smith's 
 very interesting work, "On the Divine Government." See also Ma gee an 
 the Atonement , where the doctrine of the advocates of Universal Resto- 
 ration is thus briefly and fairly explained: " Beginning with the existence 
 of an infinitely powerful, wise,' and good Being, as the first and funda- 
 mental principle of rational religion, they pronounce the essence of this 
 Being to he love, and from this infer, as a demonstrable consequence, 
 that none of the creatures formed by such a Being will ever he made 
 eternally miserable Since God (they say) would act nnjustly in inflict- 
 ing eternal misery for temporary crimes , the sufferings of the wicked 
 can be but remedial, and will terminate in a complete purification from 
 moral disorder, and in their ultimate restoration to virtue and happiness." 
 
 PAGE 97. " Glistened over its silver letters?' The Codex Cottonianus 
 of the ]\ew Testament is written in silver letters on a purple ground. The 
 Codex Cottonianus of the Septuagint version of the Old Testament is 
 supposed to be the identical copy that belonged to Origen. 
 
 Ib. "Fruit of the desert-shrub.' 1 '' v. Hamilton's jEgypliaca. 
 
 \ 
 
 PAGE 99. >" The white garment she wore , and the ring of gold on 
 her finger." See, for the custom among the earlv Christians of wearing 
 \\hite for a few days after baptism , Ambros. de Myst. With respect to 
 the ring, the Bishop of Lincoln says, in his work on Tertullian, "The 
 natural inference from these words ( Tertull. de Pudicitia) appears to be 
 that a ring used to be given in baptism ; but I have found no other trace 
 of such a custom." 
 
 Ib. "Pebbles of jasper." \. Clarke. 
 
 PAGE 100. " Stunted marigold," etc. "Les Mesembryanthcmum 
 nodiflorum et Zygophyllum coccineum, plantes grasses des deserts, re- 
 jetees , a cause de leur acrete , par les chameaux , les chevres et les 
 gazelles." M. Delille upon the plants of Egypt. 
 
 Ib. " Antinoe." 1 ' v. Savary and Qualremere. 
 
 PACK 102. "/ fiavc observed in my walks." " Je remarquai, avec 
 une reflexion triste , qu'un animal de proie accompagne presque toujours 
 les pas de ce joli et frele individu." 
 
 PAGE io5. " Some denier of Christ. Those Christians who sacrificed 
 to Idols to save themselves were called by various names, Thurificali, 
 Sacrificati, Millentcx, Negalorey, etc. Baronius mentions a bishop of 
 this period (255j, Marcellinus, who, yielding to the threats of the 
 Gentiles , threw incense upon the altar, v. Arnob. contra Gent. lib. 7. 
 
 PAGE io5. " The clear voice with which, etc. The merit of the con- 
 fession " Christianus sum," or "Christiana sum," was considerably 
 enhanced by the clearness and distinctness with which ft was pronounced. 
 En.icbius mentions the marl\ r Vctius as making it
 
 124 NOTES. 
 
 PAGE 108. " The band round the young Christians brow." We 
 find poisonous crowns mentioned by Pliny, under the designation of 
 "coronse ferales." Paschalius, too, gives the following account of these 
 "deadly garlands," as he calls them "Sedmirumest tarn salutare 
 inventum humanam nequitiam reperisse, quomodo ad nefarios usus tra- 
 ducent. Nempe, repertae sunt nefanda? corona? harum, quas dixi, tarn 
 salubrium per nomen quidem et speciem imitatrices , at re et eflectu 
 ferales, atque adeo capitis , cui imponuntur, interfectrices." De Coronis. 
 
 THE END.
 
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