UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLi: 
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN.
 
 Printed by Walker & Greig, 
 Edinburgh.
 
 /'iunf'-4i hv .1// /!/./, 
 
 £nij7'iii'i'<l hv H.^ 
 
 My^'\ T^^/^r r/ //^^ .:::yf./^/Z /;>^ ':^^^^^^: 
 
 /'iihliA-hnl Aiiri/ :'/' "•iS^^Zby. A. loii.rl.ihl,- .i' I''' Edinl'iinih .
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, 
 
 LATE MASTER OF THE ROLLS IN IRELAND. 
 
 BY HIS SON, 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY CURRAN, 
 
 BARRISTER AT LAW. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO. EDINBURGH ; 
 AND HURST, ROBINSON & CO. LONDOK.
 
 • 9 
 • • • 
 
 • A c • « 
 
 r t. M 
 
 • « 
 
 ««* «cc cc«
 
 CI a 
 
 V.I 
 
 TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 VALENTINE, LORD CLONCURRY. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 When the following volumes were 
 first about to appear, I thought it more 
 respectful to my father's memory to publish 
 the details of his life without soliciting the 
 sanction of any name that might be consi- 
 dered as a lure to attract the public atten- 
 tion. In doing this I made not an inconsi- 
 derable sacrifice of personal and public feel- 
 ing ; for it was my good fortune to be inti- 
 mately acquainted with an Irishman who 
 knew him well — who shared his constitu- 
 tional principles, and never shrunk from 
 the danger of avowing them — and who like 
 
 2079! 3
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 him could boast of the well-earned calumny 
 of every virulent defamer that sees a per- 
 sonal enemy in the lover of his country. 
 But the opportunity which I then waived 
 has now recurred, — much sooner than I 
 could have justly anticipated. The story 
 of the struggles and disasters of our coun- 
 try has not proved so unpopular a subject 
 with English readers as I had apprehended. 
 A second edition of this work has been de- 
 manded, and I now gratify my original im- 
 pulse without fearing that my motive can 
 be misconceived. Allow me then, my 
 Lord, to dedicate these pages to you ; 
 which I do, not in the spirit of an author 
 searching for a patron, but as a surviving 
 relative of one whose public virtues you 
 have had the manliness to approve and imi- 
 tate in a country, where it long has been 
 the fashion to decry every principle that is 
 not servile and profitable. 
 
 I once indulged a hope, my Lord, tliat 
 these volumes, whenever your name should
 
 DEDICATION. VU 
 
 be prefixed to them, might be rendered 
 much more complete than they were as 
 originally published. I felt, and I still feel, 
 that any additional labour I could bestow 
 upon them, w^ould be a small return to the 
 public for the favour with which they have 
 been received. The historical parts, in par- 
 ticular, would require revision, and proba- 
 bly enlargement. But I candidly confess, 
 that I shrunk from the task. There is a 
 novelty in the first glow of indignation ex- 
 cited by details of crime and suffering, that 
 for the moment may render the subject 
 tolerable if not interesting ; but such scenes 
 when dwelt upon (and there is little else in 
 Irish history), bring down the mind to a 
 sentiment of unmingled and harassing des- 
 pondency. In reviewing our dismal annals 
 too, it is in vain that we attempt to confine 
 our attention and sympathy to the past. 
 The present, and all its inglorious coinci- 
 dences will still intrude, and we are unceas- 
 ingly condemned to ask, " Is there never to
 
 Vlll DEDICATION. 
 
 be an end to the calamities of Ireland?" 
 We irresistibly turn to the shamefid fact, 
 that up to the present hour the ends of 
 society and of political institutions have 
 never been attained in this devoted coun- 
 try. While I write, the causes and the 
 effects of our degradation are in as active 
 operation as they were half a century ago. 
 The advocates of monopoly and exclusion 
 still cling to their selfish maxims as the per- 
 fection of political wisdom, and the retribu- 
 tive fury of our population is daily refuting 
 them by acts of barbarous outrage, dis- 
 graceful to humanity, and a scandal to the 
 name of regular government. 
 
 The spirit of discontent prevailing among 
 our peasantry may be immediately attri- 
 buted to the grievous distress that afflicts 
 them ; but the frightful form their irrita- 
 tion has assumed is the natural and inevit- 
 able result of a system, which, by unduly 
 preferring the interests, and sanctioning the 
 passions of a few, has effectually annihilated
 
 DEDICATION. IX 
 
 every sympathy that can attach the multi- 
 tude to the laws. . 
 
 The scenes now acting before us form a 
 miserable sequel to the visions of concilia- 
 tion and tranquillity in which we so recent- 
 ly indulged. It would be unfair to say that 
 the present excesses have been produced 
 by a disappointment of the hopes then held 
 out; but it may be truly asserted, that a class 
 of persons in immediate contact with the go- 
 vernment, and who were peculiarly bound 
 to be forbearing, have, in defiance of their 
 sovereign's interposition, w^antonly perse- 
 vered in a course of conduct the most cal- 
 culated to provoke and embitter the resent- 
 ment of a suffering and inflammable popu- 
 lation. But although the verbal appeal 
 even of his Majesty may have failed to 
 bring over those persons to the habits of a 
 civilized community, surely, my Lord, the 
 measures of an intrepid and uncompromis- 
 ing viceroy, acting up to the spirit of that 
 appeal, Mould not be equally unsuccessful.
 
 X DEDICATION. 
 
 Among the last observations that my father 
 committed to paper on the subject of Ire- 
 land, he has shortly glanced at the character 
 of such a viceroy, and at the description of 
 men from whose interference his first act 
 would be to disembarrass his administra- 
 tion. Alluding to the projected changes in 
 1812 he says, " We looked to see the sword, 
 no longer the instrument of persecution, 
 confided by a beloved sovereign to the 
 hand of his earliest friend, and used with 
 justice and mercy. Under the government 
 of such a man as Lord Moira, the humblest 
 sufferer would have been soothed by the 
 softness of his temper, and the most inso- 
 lent intruder repelled and dismayed by its 
 firmness. No despicable faction would 
 have dared to proclaim their opinion of his 
 feebleness by the nauseous tender of their 
 protection. No slanderers would have 
 found the defamation of the country a pro- 
 fitable trade. Instead of squandering his 
 favour upon the vile inventors of imaginary
 
 DEDICATION. xi 
 
 conflagrations, his would have been the 
 nobler task of extinguishing the incendia- 
 ries." I have the honour to be, 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your most respectful 
 
 And attached Servant, 
 
 William Henry Curran. 
 
 Dublin, 
 
 February 6. 1822.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 TO 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Mr Curran's origin — His parents — Early education— Originally- 
 intended for the Church— Enters Trinity College — His ardour 
 for the Classics — Letter to Mr Stack — Anecdote of his mother — 
 Her epitaph — While in College fixes on the Bar — Anecdote 
 connected with the change of profession — His character in Col- 
 lege — Addicted to Metaphysics — Anecdote on the subject — 
 Verses to Apjohn Page 1 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 Mr Cunan leaves College — Enters the Middle Temple — Letter 
 to IMr Weston — Letter to Mr Keller — His first attempts in 
 oratory fail — His own account of the failure, and of his first 
 success — A regular attendant at Debating Clubs— Anecdotes — 
 His Poem on Friendship — Dr Creagh's character of him — Mr 
 Hudson's predictions and friendship — His early manners and 
 habits — Subject to constitutional melancholy — Letters from Lon- 
 don — His society in London — Anecdote of his interview with 
 Macklin — His early application and attainments — Favourite 
 authors — Early attachment to the Irish peasantry — His marriage 
 — Remarks upon English Law 24
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE III, 
 
 Mr Curran called to the Irish Bar — Dissimilarities between that 
 and the English Bar — Causes of the Difference Page 83 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mr Curran's early success at the Bar — His contest with Judge 
 Robinson — His defence of a Roman Catholic priest — His duel 
 with Mr St Leger — Receives the dying benediction of the priest 
 •—Lord Avonmore's friendship — His character of Lord Avon- 
 more— Monks of St Patrick, and list of the original members — 
 Anecdotes of Lord Avonraore — Mr Curran's entrance into Par- 
 liament 103 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Irish House of Commons in 1783 — Sketch of the previous 
 history of Ireland — Effects of the Revolution of 1688 — Catholic 
 penal code — System of governing Ireland — Described by Mr 
 Curran — Intolerance and degradation of the Irish Parliament- 
 Change of system — Octennial bill — American Revolution — Its 
 effects upon Ireland — The Irish Volunteers — Described by Mr 
 Curran — Their numbers, and influence upon public measures — 
 Irish Revolution of 1 782 — Mr Grattan's public services — Obser- 
 vations upon the subsequent conduct of the Irish Parliament, 134 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Mr Flood's plan of Pariiamentary Reform — Mr Curran's contest 
 and duel with Mr Fitzgibbon (afterwards Lord Clare) — Speech
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 on pensions — His professional success — Mode of life — Occa- 
 sional verses — Visits France— Letters from Dieppe and Rouen 
 —Anecdote — Letter from Paris — Anecdote — Letter from Mr 
 Boyse — Anecdote of Mr Boyse — Letters from Holland, Page 167 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 His Mfljesty's illness— Communicated to the House of Commons 
 — IVIr Curran's speech upon the address — Regency question — 
 Formation of the Irish Whig Opposition — Mr Curran's speech 
 and motion upon the division of the Boards of Stamps and Ac- 
 counts — Answered by Sir Boyle Roche — Mr Curran's reply — 
 .^Correspondence and duel with Major Hobart — Effects of 
 Lord Clare's enmity— Alderman Howison's case 205 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 State of parties — Trial of Hamilton Rowan — Mr Cun-an's fidelity 
 to his party — Rev. William Jackson's trial — Conviction — and 
 Death — Remarks upon that trial— Irish infonners — Irish juries — 
 The influence of the times upon Mr Curran's style of oratory, 255 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr Curran moves an address to the throne for an inquiry into the 
 state of the poor — Other Parliamentary questions — Mr Ponson- 
 by's plan of reform rejected — Secession of Mr Curran and his 
 friends — Orr's trial — Finnerty's trial — Finney's trial — The in- 
 fonner James O'Brien 298
 
 XVi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Rebellion of 1798 — Its causes — Unpopular system of government 
 — Influence of the French Revolution — Increased intelligence in 
 Ireland — Reform societies — United Irishmen — Their views and 
 proceedings — Apply for aid to France — Anecdote of Theobald 
 Wolfe Tone — Numbers of the United Irishmen — Condition of 
 the peasantry and conduct of the aristocracy — Measures of the 
 government — Public alarm — General insurrection Page 346 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Fragment of a religious Essay 383 
 
 Mr Grattan's Letter to the Citizens of Dublin 389
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Sir Curran's origin — His parents — Early education — Originally 
 intended for the Church — Enters Trinity College — His ardour 
 for tlie Classics — Letter to Mr Stack — Anecdote of his Mother 
 —Her epitaph — While in College fixes on the Bar — Anecdote 
 connected with the change of profession — His character in Col- 
 lege — Addicted to Metaphysics — Anecdote on the subject — 
 Verses to Apjohn. 
 
 John Philpot Curran was born on the 24th 
 day of July 1750, at Newmarket, an obscure town 
 of the county of Cork, in Ireland. In several ac- 
 counts that have been published of his origin and 
 advancement, it has by a general consent been 
 asserted, that the one was very low, and the other 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 unassisted; — that he was the sole architect of his 
 own fortune, and the sole collector of the materials 
 which were to raise it ; and lovers of the marvel- 
 lous implicitly believed and repeated the assertion. 
 Let not, however, the admirers of what is rare be 
 offended at being told, that no matter how much 
 praise may be due to his personal merit (and the 
 allowance unquestionably should not be scanty), 
 a portion must still be given to the institutions of 
 his country, and to those relatives and friends 
 whose industry and protection placed him in a 
 condition of sharing their advantages. It is of far 
 more importance to the intellectual interests of 
 men to diffuse a rational confidence in the efficacy 
 of instruction, than idly to excite their wonder, 
 and perhaps their despair, by insinuating that 
 there are persons who by nature are above it. It 
 is not by hearing that the subject of the following 
 pages was a heaven-taught, unaided genius, that 
 others can be encouraged to emulate his men- 
 tal excellencies, but by learning the real, and to 
 him no less creditable fact, how he studied and 
 struggled — what models he selected — what defi- 
 ciencies he corrected — by what steps he ascended : 
 to tell this is the duty of his biographer, and not 
 to amaze his readers by uninstructive panegyric.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 3 
 
 The lowness * of his origin has been exagge- 
 rated. His father, James Curran, who has been 
 represented as an unlettered peasant, was seneschal 
 of a manor-court at Newmarket. It is confi- 
 dently asserted, by those who knew him, that he 
 possessed a mind and acquirements above his sta- 
 tion ; that he was familiar with the Greek and 
 Roman classics, which he often cited in conver- 
 sation ; that he delighted in disputation, and 
 excelled in it; and, among his favourite sub- 
 
 * "When Mr Curran liad risen to eminence, many tables of his 
 |~ pedigree were sent him, all of them varying, and the most of them, 
 he conceived, too flattering to be authentic. Among his papers is 
 the latest of these, tendered to him while he was Master of tlie 
 Rolls, and made out by a resident of his native place. In the pa- 
 ternal line it ascends no higher than his grandfather, who is stated 
 to have been " a north-countrj'man, of the county Derry, from which, 
 having met with disappointments, he came and settled in the county 
 Cork :" it adds, that " his only son, Mr Curran's father, was edu- 
 cated at a school in Newmariiet, then kept by the Rev. Mr Dallis, 
 and afterwards by the Rev. Mr Morduck, by whom he was consi- 
 dered the best Greek and Latin scholar in their school." In the 
 maternal line, it presents a long list of ancestors, among whom are 
 judges, bishops, and noblemen ; but Mr Curran has marked his in- 
 credulity or his indifference by indorsing this paper witlj " Stemmata 
 quid faciunt." Some other pedigrees derived his descent from the 
 EngUsli family of Curwen in Cumberland.
 
 4 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 jects of discussion, it is still remembered, that, 
 after his son's return from college, the old man 
 was frequently to be found in ardent contention 
 with him upon the metaphysical doctrines of 
 Locke. 
 
 His mother, whose maiden name was Philpot, 
 belonged to a family well known and respected, 
 and of which the descendants continue in the class 
 of gentry. She was a woman of a strong, original 
 understanding, and of admitted superiority in the 
 circles where she moved. In her latter years, the 
 celebrity of her son rendered her an object of ad- 
 ditional attention and scrutiny ; and the favourers 
 of the opinion that talent is hereditary, thought 
 they could discover, in the bursts of irregular elo- 
 quence that escaped her, the first visible gushings 
 of the stream, which, expanding as it descended, at 
 length attained a force and ofrandeur that incited 
 the admirer to explore its source. This persuasion 
 Mr Curran himself always fondly cherished : — 
 " The only inheritance," he used to say, " that I 
 could boast of from my poor father, was the very 
 scanty one of an unatti'active face and person like 
 his own ; and if the world has ever attributed to 
 me something more valuable than face or person, 
 or than earthly wealth, it was that another and a
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 5 
 
 dearer parent gave her child a portion from the 
 treasure of her mind." He attributed much of 
 his subsequent fortune to the early influence of 
 such a mother ; and to his latest hour would dwell 
 with grateful recollection upon the wise counsel, 
 upon the lessons of honourable ambition, and of 
 sober, masculine piety, which she enforced upon 
 the minds of her children. She was not without 
 her reward : she lived to see the dearest of them 
 surpassing every presage, and accumulating public 
 honours upon a name, which she, in her station, 
 had adorned by her virtues. 
 
 John Philpot, the eldest of their sons,* having 
 given very early indications of an excellent capa- 
 city, the Reverend Nathaniel Boyse, the resident 
 c]erg}-man at Newmarket, pleased with the boy, 
 and moved by regard for his parents, received him 
 into his house, and by his own personal tuition 
 initiated him in the rudiments of classical learn- 
 ing. This, his first acquired friend and instruc- 
 tor, had also the satisfaction of seeing all. his care 
 repaid by the rapidity with which its object ascend- 
 ed to distinction, and still more by the unceasing 
 
 • Mr Curran had three brothers and a sister, all of whom he 
 survived.
 
 6 LIFE OF CURBAN. 
 
 gratitude with which he ever after remembered 
 the patron of his childhood. Many of this gen- 
 tleman's letters to him, written at a subsequent 
 period, remain ; and it is not unpleasing to observe 
 in them the striking revolution that a few years 
 had effected in the fortunes of his pupil. In some 
 of them, the little villager, whom he had adopted, 
 is seen exalted into a senator, and is solicited by 
 his former protector to procure the enactment of 
 a statute that might relieve himself and all of the 
 clergy from the vexations of the tithe-laws. 
 
 The rapid progress that he made under the in- 
 structions of Mr Boyse, and the fond predictions 
 of his parents, determined them to give their son, 
 what has been always a prevailing object of paren- 
 tal ambition in Ireland, a learned education. It 
 was also their wish, which he did not oppose at 
 the time, that he should eventually enter the 
 church. With this view he was soon transferred 
 to the free-school of Middleton, upon which occa- 
 sion his generous friend insisted upon resigning a 
 particular ecclesiastical emolument, (in value L. 10 
 a-year), for the purpose of partly defraying the 
 expenses of his young favourite's studies. He re- 
 mained at this school until he had attained the 
 preparatory knowledge of the Greek and Latin
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 7 
 
 languages, which should capacitate him to become 
 a student of Trinity College, Dublin. It may not 
 be unworthy of remark, that the same seminary 
 had a few years before sent up to the capital the 
 late Lord Avonmore, then commencing his career 
 in circumstances and with a success so resembling 
 those of his future friend. 
 
 The early history of eminent persons so gene- 
 rally contains some presaging tokens of the for- 
 tune that awaits them, that something of the kind 
 may be expected here; yet Mr Curran's child- 
 hood, if tradition can be credited, was not marked 
 by much prophetic originality. At the first little 
 school in the town of Newmarket to which he re- 
 sorted, previous to his reception into Mr Boyse's 
 family, he used to say that he was noted for his 
 simplicity, and was incessantly selected as the dupe 
 and butt of his play-fellows. This, however, it 
 would appear that he soon laid aside; for, a puppet- 
 show having arrived in Newmarket, and Punch's 
 prompter being taken suddenly ill, ho, then a very 
 little boy, volunteered to perform the sick man's 
 duty, and seizing the opportunity, mercilessly sati- 
 rized the reigning vices of the neighbours. This 
 is almost the only exploit of his childhood that has 
 been related.
 
 O LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 He entered Trinity College as a sizer in 1 769, 
 being then nineteen years old, an age at which the 
 students of the present day have, for the most part, 
 nearly completed their college course. Here he 
 studied the classical writings of antiquity with great 
 ardour, and with eminent success. Nor did his 
 enthusiastic admiration of them ever after subside. 
 Amidst the distractions of business and ambi- 
 tion, he was all his life returning with fresh de- 
 light to their perusal ; and in the last journey that 
 he ever took, Horace and Virgil were his travelling 
 companions. He obtained a scholarship ; and that 
 his general scholastic attainments were not incon- 
 siderable, may be inferred from his having com- 
 menced a course of reading for a fellowship ; but 
 deterred by the labour, or diverted by accident, 
 he soon gave up the project. 
 
 When we reflect upon the lustre of his future 
 career, it becomes a matter of natural curiosity to 
 inquire how far his mind now began to indicate 
 those qualities, by which it was to be subsequently 
 distinguished ; and upon this interesting subject 
 there happen to be preserved some documents, 
 principally a portion of his early correspondence 
 and his first poetical attempts, from which a few 
 occasional extracts shall be offered, for the pur-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. $ 
 
 pose of giving some idea of the writer's juvenile 
 habits and capacity. Whatever may be consider- 
 ed to be their intrinsic merit, several of them were 
 at least written with considerable care, and may 
 therefore be introduced as no unfair specimens of 
 the progress of his intellectual strength. To the 
 student of eloquence their defects will not be with- 
 out instruction, if they inspire him with a reliance 
 upon that labour and cultivation, which alone con- 
 duct to excellence. 
 
 One of the most intimate friends of Mr Curran's 
 youth, and of his riper years, was the late Rev. 
 Richard Stack, his cotemporary at Trinity Col- 
 lege, and since a fellow of that university. The 
 followinc: is a formal letter of consolation to this 
 gentleman upon the death of a brother. The 
 writer had just completed his twentieth year, and 
 appears to have been so pleased with his perform- 
 ance, that no less than three transcripts of it re- 
 main in his own hand-writing. 
 
 " Dublin, August 20. 1770. 
 
 " Dear Dick, 
 
 " I AM sorry to find by your letter (which I 
 have just now received), that you judge my silence 
 for some time past with so much more severity
 
 10 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 than it deserves. Can my friend suspect me of 
 being unconcerned at his sorrows ? I would have 
 wrote to you on hearing from Vincent of this late 
 misfortune, but that I was unwilling to press a 
 subject upon your thoughts which you should take 
 every means of avoiding. To offer consolation to 
 a man of sense, upon the first stroke of affliction, 
 is perhaps one of the most cruel offices that friend- 
 ship can be betrayed into. All the fine things 
 that can be addressed to the fancy, will have but 
 small effect in removing a distemper fixed in the 
 heart. Time and reflection only can cure that; 
 and happy is it for us, that in this chequered scene, 
 where every thing feels perpetual decay, and seems 
 created only for dissolution, our sorrows cannot 
 boast of exemption from the common fate. Time, 
 though he sometimes tears up our happiness by 
 the roots, yet, to make amends for that, kindly 
 holds out a remedy for our afflictions ; and though 
 he violently breaks our dearest connexions, yet 
 he is continually teaching us to be prepared for 
 the blow. 'Tis true, nature on these occasions 
 will weep ; but, my dear Dick, reason and reflec- 
 tion should wipe away these tears. A few years 
 may see us numbered with those whom we now 
 regret, or will give us cause to congratulate those
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 11 
 
 whose happy lot it was, by an early retreat from 
 this scene of misery and disappointment, to escape 
 those troubles which their survivors are reserved 
 to suflPer. 'Tis true, the inattention of youth will 
 leave the great account more unsettled than might 
 be wished ; but at this age we have every thing to 
 plead for that defect — the violence of passions, 
 want of reason to moderate them. Faults no 
 doubt we have,' but they are the faults of youth, 
 of inexperience ; not a course of wickedness rivet- 
 ed by habit, and aggravated by obdurate perse- 
 verance, which (Heaven help us) in a length of 
 years they may become; but, above all, that 
 Being who is pleased to call us so suddenly from 
 hence, has mercy and compassion to make allow- 
 ance for these involuntary omissions. But I find 
 I have fallen unawares upon a theme which I had 
 no intention to pursue so far, as I was persuaded 
 your own good sense would suggest much stronger 
 reasons for your consolation than I could. 
 
 « J. P. C." 
 
 At the date of this letter, the writer, if he 
 looked forward to fame, expected to find it in the 
 pulpit; but this, jind a short religious discourse,* 
 
 • Vide Appendix.
 
 12 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 are all that remain of his early compositions, 
 which, from the style, would appear to be written 
 with a view to his first destination. Mr Stack, 
 however, entertained so very high an opinion of 
 his talents for the solemn eloquence of the church, 
 that being appointed a few years after (1775) to 
 preach before the judges of assize at Cork, and 
 being anxious that his matter should be worthy 
 of his auditors, he entreated of his young friend, 
 who was then upon the spot, and going his first 
 circuit, to compose a sermon for the occasion. 
 Mr Curran complied ; and his production ex- 
 cited such general admiration, that his mother, in 
 answer to the congratulations of the neighbour- 
 hood upon so flattering a proof of her son's abi- 
 lities, could not avoid tempering her maternal 
 exultation with Christian regret, and exclaiming, 
 — " Oh, yes, it was very fine ; but it breaks my 
 heart to think what a noble preacher was lost to 
 the church, when John disappointed us all, and 
 insisted on becoming a lawyer." All his subse- 
 quent success and celebrity at the bar could never 
 completely reconcile her to the change; and in 
 her latter years, when her friends, to gratify and 
 console her, used to remind her that she had lived 
 to see her favourite child one of the judges of the
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 13 
 
 land, she would still reply, — " Don't speak to me 
 oi judges. John was fit for any thing; and had 
 he but followed our advice, it might hereafter be 
 written upon my tomb, that I had died the mother 
 of a bishop." 
 
 This excellent and pious woman died about 
 eleven years ago, at the advanced age of eighty. 
 It is not written upon her tomb that she died the 
 mother of a bishop or of a judge ; but there is to 
 be seen upon it an attestation to her worth from 
 the son who was her pride, which, as long as vir- 
 tue and filial gratitude are preferred to the glare 
 of worldly dignities, will be considered as an epi- 
 taph no less honourable both to the parent and 
 the child.* 
 
 * Her remains lie in the church-yard of Newmarket ; over tliem 
 is the following epitaph written by Mr Curran : — 
 
 Here lies the body of 
 
 Sarah Curran. 
 
 She was marked by many years, 
 
 Many talents, 
 
 Many virtues, 
 
 Few failings, 
 
 No crime. 
 
 This frail memorial was placed here by a 
 
 Son 
 
 Whom she loved.
 
 14 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 It was during the second year of his college 
 studies that he fixed on the profession of the law. 
 In his original intention of taking orders, he had 
 been influenced by the wishes of his friends, and 
 by the promise of a small living in the gift of a 
 distant relative, and probably still more strongly 
 by a habitual preference for the calling to which 
 his early patron belonged ; but his ambition soon 
 overruled all these motives, and he selected the 
 bar as more suited to his temperament and talents. 
 According to his own account it was the following 
 incident that suggested the first idea of a change 
 in his destination. 
 
 He had committed some breach of the Collefje 
 regulations, for which he was sentenced by the 
 censor, Dr Patrick Duigenan, either to pay a fine 
 of five shillings, or translate into Latin a number 
 of the Spectator. He found it more convenient 
 to accept the latter alternative; but on the ap- 
 pointed day the exercise was not ready, and some 
 unsatisfactory excuse was assigned. Against this 
 second offence a heavier penalty was denounced — 
 he was condemned to compose a Latin oration in 
 laudem decori, and pronounce it from the pulpit in 
 the college chapel. He no longer thought of evad- 
 ing his sentence, and accordingly prepared the pa-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 15 
 
 negyric ; but when he came to recite it, he had not 
 proceeded far, before it was found to contain a 
 mock model of ideal perfection, which the doctor 
 instantly recognized to be a glaring satire upon 
 himself. As soon therefore as the young orator 
 had concluded, and descended from his station, 
 he was summoned before the provost and fellows 
 to account for his behaviour. Dr Duigenan was 
 not very populai', and the provost was secretly 
 not displeased at any circumstance that could 
 mortify him. He therefore merely went through 
 the form of calling upon the offender for an ex- 
 planation, and, listening with indulgence to the 
 ingenuity with which he attempted to soften down 
 the libel, dismissed him with a slight reproof. 
 When Mr Curran returned among his compa- 
 nions, they surrounded him to hear the particu- 
 lars of his acquittal. He reported to them all 
 that he had said, " and all that he had not said, 
 but that he might have said ;" and impressed them 
 with so high an idea of his legal dexterity, that 
 they declared, by common acclamation, that the 
 bar, and the bar alone, was the proper profession 
 for one possessing the talents of which he had 
 that day given such a striking proof. He accept-
 
 16 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 ed the omen, and never after repented t)f his deci- 
 sion. 
 
 In college he distinguished himself by his social 
 powers. He had such a fund of high spirits and 
 of popular anecdote — his ordinary conversation 
 was so full of " wit, and fun, and fire," that in 
 the convivial meetings of his fellow-students he was 
 never omitted. His general reputation among 
 them was that of being very clever, and very wild. 
 He often joined in those schemes of extravagant 
 frolic so prevalent in that university; and after 
 one of the nocturnal broils to which they usually 
 led, was left wounded and insensible from loss of 
 blood, to pass the remainder of the night on the 
 pavement of Dublin. 
 
 He was at this time supported partly from the 
 funds appropriated to the sizers, and partly by 
 scanty remittances from Newmarket. But he was 
 frequently without a shilling; for he was incorri- 
 gibly improvident, and would often squander, in 
 entertaining his companions, what should have 
 been meted out to answer the demands of the 
 coming quarter. Yet, whatever were his priva- 
 tions, he bore them with singular good-humour ; 
 and when he had no longer money to treat his 
 friends, he never failed to divert them with ludi-
 
 JLIFE OF CURRAN. 1.7 
 
 crous representations of his distresses and expe- 
 dients. . 
 
 One of his sayings while he was in college has 
 been preserved, and is a favourable instance of 
 the felicitous use that he made of his classical 
 knowledge in the production of comic effect. A 
 fellow-student, in reciting a Latin theme, assigned 
 a false quantity to the syllable mi in the word 
 nimirum. A buzz of disapprobation succeeding, 
 Mr Curran, to relieve his friend's confusion, ob- 
 served, " that it was by no means surprising that 
 an Irish student should be ignorant of what was 
 known by only one man in Rome, according to 
 the following testimony of Horace, 
 
 " Septimius, Claudi, nimirum intelligit unus." 
 
 He was at this early period remarkable for his 
 disposition to subtle disputation and metaphysical 
 inquiries, connected with which a circumstance 
 may be mentioned that strikingly illustrates the 
 speculative propensities of his young and ardent 
 mind. A frequent topic of conversation with one 
 of his companions was the investigation of the 
 nature of death and eternity, and the immortality 
 of the soul ; but finding that the farther they fol- 
 lowed the bewildering light of reason, the more 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 they were ** in wandering mazes lost," they came 
 to the romantic agreement, that whoever of them 
 might first receive the summons to another state, 
 should, if permitted, for once revisit the survivor, 
 and relieve his doubts by revealing, whatever 
 could be revealed to him, of the eternal secret. A 
 very few years after, the summons came to Mr 
 Curran's friend, who, finding his end approach, 
 caused a letter to be addressed to his former fellow- 
 student, apprizing him of the impending event, 
 and of his intention to perform his promise (if it 
 should be allowed) on a particular night. This 
 letter did not reach its destination till after the 
 expiration of the appointed hourj but it was the 
 first, and the only intimation, that arrived of the 
 writer's decease. 
 
 Something of the same turn of mind may be 
 observed in a little poem that Mr Curran wrote 
 the year before he left Trinity College. One of 
 his cotemporaries there was a young gentleman 
 named Apjohn, with whom he became intimately 
 connected by a community of taste and pursuits, 
 and who claims a passing mention as a friend 
 from whose example and encouragement he de- 
 rived the most important advantages at this try- 
 ing period of his career, when hope and ardour
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 19 
 
 were the most precious benefits that a friend could 
 bestow. 
 
 During a temporary absence of Apjohn from 
 college, a report reached his companions that he 
 had died suddenly at his native place, Killaloe. It 
 was soon discovered to have been unfounded, upon 
 which occasion, while the others congratulated 
 him in prose, his more ambitious friend addressed 
 him in the following verses : — 
 
 TO W. APJOHN. 
 
 Peace ! whining slut, dismiss those sighs, 
 Those epitaphs and elegies ; 
 And throwing off those weeds of sorrow. 
 Go laughing bid my friend good-morrow ! 
 Go bid him welcome here again, 
 From Charon's bark and Pluto's reign ! 
 
 The doleful tale around was spread : 
 " Hast heard the news ? Poor Apjohn's dead ! " — 
 " Impossible ! " — " Indeed it's true — 
 He's dead — and so is Casey too : 
 In Limerick this, and that at Killaloe. 
 As St Paul says, ' we all must die ! ' 
 I'm sorry for 't." — " Faitli, so 'm I — 
 Extremely so. — But tell me, pray. 
 If you were on the ice to-day ? 
 There was great skating there, ihcy say — "
 
 20 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 " I couldn't go for want of shoes — 
 In trutli, I'm sorry for the news — 
 And yet I knew, and always said, 
 When he had got into his head 
 That strange abstemious resolution, 
 'Twould quite destroy his constitution.'* 
 Thus careless, tearless sorrow spoke, 
 And heav'd the sigh, or told the joke. 
 Yet, must I own, there were a few 
 Who gave your memory its due ; 
 And while they dropt a friendly tear 
 
 Sdd things that but you must n't hear. 
 
 And now, methought, a wandering ghost. 
 You whizz'd along the Stygian coast ; 
 And if, perchance, you gained the wherry. 
 And tugg'd an oar across the ferry. 
 That sitting on the farther shore 
 You "watch'd each boatful wafted o'er, 
 While with impatience you attend 
 Th' arrival of your quondam friend ; 
 To tell his wonder where you've been, 
 And what surprising things you've seen ; 
 And, from experience wise, relate 
 The various politics of fate ; 
 And shew where hoary sages stray. 
 And where they chance to keep their way j 
 Then laugh to think, how light as air 
 Our blind dogmatic guesses were ; 
 AVhen, fancy throned, and placed on high, 
 We sat in judgment o'er the sky.
 
 LIFE OF CUKRAN. 21 
 
 There envy too began to rise, 
 
 To think that you were grown so wise ; 
 
 That bursting from this shell of clay, 
 
 You now enjoyed eternal day ; 
 
 While I was left perplex'd and blind, 
 
 In anxious ignorance behind ; 
 
 Doom'd this insipid part to play 
 
 In life's dull farce another day, 
 
 That, bent with sorrows and with age, 
 
 I late might totter off the stage : 
 
 But yet my Muse, I cried, will pay 
 
 The tribute of a weeping lay : 
 
 And though the flowers strewn o'er his tomb 
 
 May boast, perhaps, a longer bloom, 
 
 The short-liv'd verse he'll still receive, 
 
 Since that is all a Muse can give. 
 
 The Muse, contented, took her place — 
 
 I solemnly composed my face. 
 
 And took the pen, prepared to write 
 
 \\Tiat she sat ready to indite. 
 
 When Rumour, lo ! with deaf 'ning sound, 
 
 More gladsome tidings blows around, 
 
 And bids her tliousand tongues to tell. 
 
 That Apjohn is alive and well ! 
 
 And louder now the torrent grows. 
 
 Gathering new murmurs as it flows. 
 
 When the poor INIuse, in sad affright. 
 
 Swift to Parnassus wings her flight ; 
 
 But promised, ere away she fled, 
 
 That when you should indeed be dead,
 
 22 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 She'd call again, and write a verse, 
 To please your friend, and grace your hearse ; 
 Unless that I myself ere then 
 Should grow fatigued, and quit the scene. 
 And yet how short a time can live 
 Those honours that the Muses give- 
 Soon fades the monument away. 
 And sculptured marbles soon decay ; 
 And every title, now defaced, 
 Mix with the dust which once they graced : 
 But if we wish a deathless name, 
 Let virtue hand us down to fame. 
 Our honours then may time defy, 
 Since we will have, whene'er we die, 
 For epitaph — a life well spent, 
 And mankind for a monument. 
 What matter then to you or me. 
 Though none upon our grave should see 
 A W. A. or J. P. C. 
 
 William Apjohn is a name of which the world 
 has heard nothing. He died prematurely, and 
 « without his fame ;" but had his days been length- 
 ened, he would probably have acted a distinguished 
 part in the history of his country. Like his friend, 
 he had chosen the bar as the most honourable road 
 to fortune and celebrity, and had already given a 
 promise of such talents for public life, that his 
 success was looked to as undoubted. Mr Curran
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 23 
 
 never spoke of his capacity but in terms of the 
 most respectful admiration. " Apjohn's mind," 
 he used to say, " was, beyond exception, the 
 most accomplished that I ever met : his abilities 
 and attainments were so many and so rare, that 
 if they could have been distributed among a dozen 
 ordinary persons, the share of each would have 
 promoted him to the rank of a man of talents."
 
 24 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mr Curran leaves College — Enters the Middle Temple — Letter to 
 Mr Weston — Letter to Mr Keller — His first attempts in Ora- 
 tory fail — His own account of the failure, and of his first suc- 
 cess — A regular attendant at Debating Clubs — Anecdotes — His 
 Poem on Friendship — Dr Creagh's character of him— Mr Hud- 
 son's predictions and friendship — His early manners and habits 
 — Subject to constitutional melancholy — Letters from London^ 
 His society in London — Anecdote of his interview with Macklin 
 —His early application and attainments — Favourite Authors — 
 Early attachment to the Irish peasantry — His Marriage— Re- 
 marks upon English Law. 
 
 Mr Curran completed his college studies in the 
 early part of the year 1773, having qualified 
 himself to take a master's degree, and passed over 
 to London, where he became a student of law in 
 the Society of the Middle Temple. During his 
 residence in England he wrote regularly, and at 
 considerable length, to his friends in Ireland. A 
 collection of these letters has been preserved, and 
 as several of them contain a more striking picture 
 of his circumstances, and of many traits of indi- 
 vidual character, than any description by another
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 25 
 
 could conve}'^, he shall in this stage of his life be 
 occasionally made his own biographer. 
 
 The following was written immediately after his 
 arrival in the British capital. The gentleman to 
 whom it is addressed was a resident of Newmarket, 
 and one of the most attached of Mr Curran's early 
 friends. 
 
 TO THE REV. HENRY WESTON, 
 
 KEWMARKET, CO. CORK. 
 
 " London, 31. Chandos- street, Juli/ 10. 1773. 
 
 " I WOULD have taken a last farewell of my 
 dear Harry from Dublin, if I had not M'ritten so 
 shortly before I left it ; and, indeed, I was not 
 sorry for being exempt from a task for which a 
 thousand causes conspired to make me at that 
 juncture unqualified. It was not without regret 
 that I could leave a country, which my birth, 
 education, and connexions, had rendered dear to 
 me, and venture alone, almost a child of fortune, 
 into a land of strangers. In such moments of 
 despondence, when fancy plays the self-tormentor, 
 she commonly acquits herself to a miracle, and 
 will not fail to collect in a single group the most 
 hideous forms of anticipated misfortune. I con-
 
 26 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 sidered myself, besides, as resigning for ever the 
 little indulgences that youth and inexperience may 
 claim for their errors, and passing to a period of 
 life in which the best can scarce escape the rigid 
 severity of censure; nor could the little trivial 
 vanity of taking the reins of my own conduct alle- 
 viate the pain of so dear-bought a transition from 
 dependence to liberty. Full of these reflections as 
 I passed the gate, I could not but turn and take a 
 last lingering look of poor Alma-mater ; it was 
 the scene of many a boyish folly, and of many an 
 happy hour. I should have felt more confusion 
 at part of the retrospect, had I not been relieved 
 by a recollection of the valuable friendships I had 
 formed there. Though I am far from thinking 
 such a circumstance can justify a passed miscon- 
 duct, yet I cannot call that time totally a blank, 
 in which one has acquired the greatest blessing 
 of humanity. It was with a melancholy kind of 
 exultation I counted over the number of those I 
 loved there, while my heart gave a sigh to each 
 name in the catalogue; nay, even the fellows, 
 whom I never loved, I forgave at that moment ; 
 the parting tear blotted out every injury, and I 
 gave them as hearty a benediction as if they had 
 deserved it: as for my general acquaintance (for
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 2? 
 
 I could not but go the round), I packed their re- 
 spective little sighs into one great sigh, as I turned 
 round on my heel. My old friend and handmaid 
 Betty, perceiving me in motion, got her hip under 
 the strong-hoXf with my seven shirts, which she 
 had rested against the rails during the delay ; and 
 screwed up her face into a most rueful caricature, 
 that might provoke a laugh at another time ; while 
 her young son Denny, grasping his waistband in 
 one hand, and a basket of sea-provisions in the 
 other, took the lead in the procession, and so we 
 journeyed on to George's-Quay, where the ship 
 was just ready to sail. When I entered, I found 
 my fellow-passengers seated round a large table in 
 the cabin ; we were fourteen in number. A young 
 Hiffhland lord had taken the head of the table and 
 the conversation, and with a modesty peculiar to 
 himself, gave a history of his travels, and his inti- 
 mate connexions with the princes of the empire. 
 An old debauched officer was complaining of the 
 gout, while a woman, who sat next to him, (good 
 Heaven ! what a tongue), gave a long detail of 
 what her father suffered from that disorder. To 
 do them all justice, they exerted themselves most 
 zealously for the common entertainment. As for 
 my part, I had nothing to say ; nor, if I had, was
 
 28 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 any one at leisure to listen to me ; so I took pos- 
 session of what the captain called a bed, wonder- 
 ing, with Partridge, « how they could play so 
 many different tunes at the same time without 
 putting each other out.' I was expecting that 
 the sea-sickness would soon give those restless 
 mouths different employment, but in that I was 
 disappointed ; the sea was so calm that one only 
 was sick during the passage, and it was not my 
 good fortune that the lot should fall on that devil 
 who never ceased chattering. There was no cure 
 but patience; accordingly, I never stirred from 
 my tabernacle (unless to visit my basket) till we 
 arrived at Parkgate. Here, after the usual pillage 
 at the custom-house, I laid my box down on the 
 beach, seated myself upon it, and, casting my eyes 
 westward over the Welsh mountains towards Ire- 
 land, I began to reflect on the impossibility of 
 ■getting back without the precarious assistance of 
 others. " Poor Jack !" thoughtl, " thou wert never 
 till now so far from home but thou mightest re- 
 turn on thine own legs. Here now must thou re- 
 main, for where here canst thou expect the assist- 
 ance of a friend ?" Whimsical as the idea was, it 
 had power to affect me; until, at length, I was 
 awaked from this reverie by a figure which ap-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 29 
 
 proached me with the utmost aiFabihty ; me- 
 thought his looks seemed to say, ' why is thy 
 spirit troubled?' He pressed me to go into his 
 house, and to ' eat of his bread,' and to ' drink of 
 his drink.' There was so much good-natured so- 
 hcitude in the invitation, 'twas irresistible. I rose, 
 therefore, and followed him, ashamed of my uncha- 
 ritable despondence. " Surely," thought I, " there 
 is still humanity left amongst us," as I raised my 
 eyes to the golden letters over his door, that offer- 
 ed entertainment and repose to the wearied travel- 
 ler. Here I resolved to stay for the night, and 
 agreed for a place in his coach next morning to 
 Chester ; but finding my loquacious fellow-passen- 
 ger had agreed for one in the same vehicle, I re- 
 tracted my bargain, and agreed for my box only. 
 I perceived, however, when I ai'ose next morning, 
 that my box was not sent, though the coach was 
 gone. I was thinking how I should remedy this 
 unlucky disappointment, when my friendly host 
 told me that he could furnish me with a chaise ! 
 Confusion light upon him ! what a stroke was 
 this ! It was not the few paltry shillings that vexed 
 me, but to have my philanthropy till that moment 
 running cheerily through my veins, and to have 
 the current turned back suddenly by the detection
 
 so LitE OF CURRAN'. 
 
 of his knavery. Verily, Yorick, even thy gentle 
 spirit, so meekly accustomed to bear and forbear, 
 would have been roused on such an occasion. I 
 paid hastily for my entertainment, and shaking 
 the dust from my feet at his gate, I marched with 
 my box on my shoulder to a waggoner's at the 
 other end of the town, where I entered it for Lon- 
 don, and sallied forth toward Chester on foot. I 
 was so nettled at being the dupe of my own cre- 
 dulity, that I was almost tem.pted to pass an 
 excommunication on all mankind, and resolved 
 never more to trust my own skill in physiognomy. 
 Wrapt up in my speculations, I never perceived 
 at what a rate I was striding away, till I found 
 myself in the suburbs of Chester, quite out of 
 breath, and completely covered with dust and 
 dirt. From Chester I set out that evening in the 
 stage : I slept about four hours next day at Co- 
 ventry, and the following evening, at five o'clock, 
 was in view of near a hundred and twenty spires^ 
 that are scattered from one side of the horizon to 
 the other, and seem almost bewildered in the mist 
 that perpetually covers this prodigious capital. 
 'Twould be impossible for description to give any 
 idea of the various objects that fill a stranger, on 
 his first arrival, M^ith surprise and astonishment.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 31 
 
 The magnificence of the churches, hospitals, and 
 other pubhc buildings, which every-where present 
 themselves, would alone be ample subject of admi- 
 ration to a spectator, though he were not distract- 
 ed by the gaudy display of wealth and dissipation 
 continually shifting before his eyes in the most 
 extravagant forms of pride and ostentation, or by 
 a hurry of business that might make you think 
 this the source from which life and motion are 
 conveyed to the world beside. There are many 
 places here not unworthy of particular inspection, 
 but as my illness prevented me from seeing them 
 on my first arrival, I shall suspend my curiosity 
 till some future time, as I am determined to apply 
 to reading this vacation with the utmost diligence, 
 in order to attend the courts next winter with 
 more advantage. If I should happen to visit Ire- 
 land next summer, I shall spend a week before I 
 go in seeing the curiosities here, (the king and 
 queen, and the lions) ; and, if I continue in my 
 present mood, you will see a strange alteration in 
 your poor friend. That cursed fever brought me 
 down so much, and my spirits are so reduced, 
 that, faith ! I don't remember to have laughed these 
 feix weeks. Indeed, I never thought solitude could 
 lean so heavily on me as I find it does : I rise,
 
 32 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 most commonly, in the morning between five and 
 six, and read as much as my eyes will permit me 
 till dinner-time ; I then go out and dine, and from 
 that till bed-time I mope about between my lodg- 
 ings and the Park. For Heaven's sake send me 
 some news or other (for, surely, Newmarket can- 
 not be barren in such things), that will teach me 
 once more to laugh. I never received a single 
 line from any one since I came here. Tell me if 
 you know any thing about Keller : I wrote twice 
 to that gentleman without being favoured with any 
 answer. You will give my best respects to Mrs 
 Aldworth and her family; to Doctor Creagh's; 
 and don't forget my good friends Peter and Will 
 Connel. " Yours sincerely, 
 
 « J. P. C." 
 
 " P. S. — I will cover this blank edge with en- 
 treating you to write closer than you commonly 
 do when you sit down to answer this, and don't 
 make me pay tenpence for a halfpenny-worth of 
 white paper." 
 
 In a letter of nearly the same date to another 
 friend,* he says, " By the time you receive this I 
 
 * Jeremiah Keller, Esq. a member of the Irish Bar.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 33 
 
 shall have relapsed into the same monastic life that 
 I led before. I do not expect, however, that it 
 will lean so heavily on me, as I am now tolerably 
 recovered, and shall continue to read with unabat- 
 ed application ; indeed, that is the only means of 
 making solitude supportable : yet, it must be 
 owned, a man of a speculative turn will find am- 
 ple matter in that way without stirring from his 
 window. It is here that every vice and folly climb 
 to their meridian, and that mortality seems pro- 
 perly to understand her business. If j'ou cast 
 your eyes on the thousand gilded chariots that are 
 dancing the hayes in an eternal round of foppery, 
 you would think the world assembled to play the 
 fool in London, unless you believe the report of 
 the passing-bells and hearses, which would seem 
 to intimate that they all made a point of dying 
 here. It is amazing, that even custom should 
 make death a matter of so much unconcern as you 
 will here find it. Even in the house where I 
 lodge, there has been a being dead these two days : 
 I did not hear a word of it till this evening, though 
 he is divided from me only by a partition. They 
 visit him once a-day, and so lock him up till the 
 next, (for they seldom bury till the seventh day), 
 and there he lies without the smallest attention 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 3* LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 paid to him, except a dirge each night on the 
 Jew's-harp, which I shall not omit while he con- 
 tinues to be my neighbour." 
 
 It was during his attendance at the Temple that 
 Mr Curran made the first trial of his rhetorical 
 powers. He frequented a debating society that 
 was composed of his fellow-students. His first 
 attempt was unsuccessful, and for the moment 
 quite disheartened him. He had had from his 
 boyhood a considerable precipitation and confu- 
 sion of utterance, from which he was denominated 
 by his school-fellows " stuttering Jack Curran." 
 This defect he had laboured to remove, but the 
 cure was not yet complete. From the agitation 
 of a first effort he was unable to pronounce a 
 syllable ; and so little promise did there appear of 
 his shining as a speaker, that his friend Apjohn 
 said to him, " I have a high opinion of your ca- 
 pacity ; confine yourself to the study of law, and 
 you will to a certainty become an eminent cham- 
 ber-counsel, but, depend upon it, nature never 
 intended you for an orator." Fortunately for his 
 fame, this advice was disregarded : he continued 
 to attend the above and other debating clubs, at 
 one of which, during a discussion, some personal 
 and irritating expressions having been levelled at
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 35 
 
 him, his indignation, and along with it his talent, 
 was roused. Forgetting all his timidity and hesi- 
 tation, he rose against his assailant, and, for the 
 first time, revealed to his hearers and to himself 
 that style of original and impetuous oratory, which 
 he afterwards improved into such perfection, and 
 which now bids fair to preserve his name. He 
 used often to entertain his friends by detailing 
 this event of his mind's having " burst the shell." 
 The following was the manner in which he once 
 related it ; for one of the great charms of his collo- 
 quial powers was the novelty that he could give to 
 the same facts upon every repetition : — he adorned 
 a favourite anecdote, as a skilful musician would 
 a favourite air, by an endless variety of unpreme- 
 ditated ad libitwn graces. 
 
 One day after dinner, an acquaintance, in speak- 
 ino- of his eloquence, happened to observe, that it 
 must have been born with him. " Indeed, my 
 dear sir," replied Mr Curran, " it was not; it 
 was born three-and-twenty years and some months 
 after me ; and, if you are satisfied to listen to a 
 dull historian, you shall have the history of its 
 nativity. 
 
 " When I was at the Temple, a few of us 
 formed a little debating club — poor Apjohn, and
 
 '-./ 1 
 
 36 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Duhigg,* and the rest of them ! they have all dis- 
 appeared from the stage : but my own busy hour 
 will soon be fretted through, and then we may 
 meet again behind the scenes. Poor fellows I 
 they are now at rest; but I still can see them, 
 and the glow of honest bustle on their looks, as 
 they arranged their little plan of honourable as- 
 sociation, (or, as Pope would say, « gave their 
 little senate laws,') where all the great questions 
 in ethics and politics (there were no gagging-bills 
 in those days) were to be discussed and irrevoc- 
 ably settled. Upon the first night of our assem- 
 bling, I attended, my foolish heart throbbing with 
 the anticipated honour of being styled ' the learn- 
 ed member that opened the debate,' or ' the vety 
 eloquent gentleman who has just sat down.' All 
 day the coming scene had been flitting before my 
 fancy, and cajoling it ; my ear already caught the 
 glorious melody of * hear him, hear him !' Al- 
 ready I was practising how to steal a cunning 
 side-long glance at the tear of generous approba- 
 tion bubbling in the eyes of my little auditory; 
 never suspecting, alas ! that a modern eye may 
 have so little affinity with moisture that the finest 
 
 » The kte B. T. Duhigg, Esq. of the Irish Bar,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 37 
 
 gtmpowder may be dried upon it. I stood up — 
 the question was Catholic claims or the'slave-trade, 
 I protest I now forget which, but the difference, 
 you know, was never very obvious — my mind was 
 stored with about a folio volume of matter, but I 
 wanted a preface, and for want of a preface the 
 volume was never published. I stood up, trem- 
 bling through every fibre ; but remembering that 
 in this I was but imitating Tully, I took courage, 
 and had actually proceeded almost as far as * Mr 
 Chairman,' when, to my astonishment and terror, 
 I perceived that every eye was riveted upon me. 
 There were only six or seven present, and the 
 little room could not have contained as many 
 more ; yet was it, to my panic-sti'uck imagination, 
 as if I were the central object in nature, and as- 
 sembled millions were gazing upon me in breath- 
 less expectation. I became dismayed and dumb ; 
 my friends cried * hear him !' but there was no- 
 thing to hear. My lips, indeed, went through 
 the pantomime of articulation, but I was like the 
 unfortunate fiddler at the fair, who, upon coming 
 to strike up the solo that was to ravish every car, 
 discovered that an enemy had maliciously soaped 
 his bow ; or rather like poor Punch, as 1 once saw 
 him, (and how many like him have I seen in our
 
 38 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 old house of commons ! but it is dead, and let us 
 not disturb its ashes), grimacing a soliloquy, of 
 which his prompter behind had most indiscreetly 
 neglected to administer the words. So you see, 
 sir, it was not born with me. However, though 
 
 my friends, even Apjohn, the most sanguine of 
 them, despaired of me, the cacoethes loquendi was 
 not to be subdued without a strucjele. I was for 
 the present silenced, but I still attended our meet- 
 ings with the most laudable regularity, and even 
 ventured to accompany the others to a more am- 
 bitious theatre, * the Devils of Temple Bar ;' 
 where truly may I say, that many a time the 
 Devil's own work was going forward. Here, 
 warned by fatal experience that a man's powers 
 may be overstrained, I at first confined myself to 
 a simple * ay or no,' and, by dint of practice and 
 encouragement, brought my tongue to recite these 
 magical elements of parliamentary eloquence with 
 * such sound emphasis and good discretion,' that 
 in a fortnight's time I had completed my education 
 for the Irish senate. 
 
 " Such was my state, the popular throb just 
 beginning to revisit my heart, when a long ex- 
 pected remittance arrived from Newmarket : Ap- 
 john dined with me that day, and when the leg
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 39 
 
 of mutton, or rather the bone, was removed, we 
 offered up the hbation of an additional glass of 
 punch for the health and length of days (and Hea- 
 ven heard the prayer) of the kind mother that had 
 remembered the necessities of her absent child. 
 In the evening we repaired to « the Devils.' One 
 of them was upon his legs ; a fellow of whom it 
 was impossible to decide, whether he was most 
 distinguished by the filth of his person or by the 
 flippancy of his tongue ; just such another as 
 Harry Flood would have called ' the highly gift- 
 ed gentleman with the dirty cravat and greasy 
 pantaloons.' * I found this learned personage in 
 the act of calumniating chronology by the most 
 preposterous anachronisms, and (as I believe I 
 shoi'tly after told him) traducing the illustrious 
 dead, by affecting a confidential intercourse with 
 them, as he would with some nobleman, his very 
 dear friend, behind his back, who, if present, 
 would indignantly repel the imputation of so in- 
 sulting an intimacy. He descanted upon Dcmos- 
 
 * Mr Curran here alluded to the celebrated Mr Flood's custom 
 of distinguishing the speakers at the London debating societies by 
 such ludicrous descriptions of their dress, as " the eloquent friend 
 to reform in the thread-bare coat," " the able supporter of the pre- 
 sent ministry with the new pair of boots," &c.
 
 40 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 thenius, the glory of the Roman forum ; spoke of 
 Tully as the famous cotemporary and rival of 
 Cicero; and in the short space of one half-hour, 
 transported the Straits of Marathon three several 
 times to the plains of Thermopylae. Thinking 
 that I had a right to know something of these 
 matters, I looked at him with surprise ; and whe- 
 ther it was the money in my pocket, or my classi- 
 cal chivalry, or most probably the supplemental 
 tumbler of punch, that gave my face a smirk of 
 saucy confidence, when our eyes met there was 
 something like wager of battle in mine; upon 
 which the erudite gentleman instantly changed his 
 invective against antiquity into an invective against 
 me, and concluded by a few words of friendly 
 counsel [horresco referens) to ' orator mum,' who 
 he doubted not possessed wonderful talents for 
 eloquence, although he would recommend him to 
 shew it in future b}' some more popular method 
 than his silence. I followed his advice, and I be- 
 lieve not entirely without effect ; for when, upon 
 sitting down, I whispered my friend, that I hoped 
 he did not think my dirty antagonist had come 
 ' quite clean off?' * On the contrary, my dear fel- 
 low,' said he, ' every one around me is declaring 
 that it is the first time they ever saw him so well
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 41 
 
 dressed.' So, sir, you see that to try the bird, the 
 spur must touch his blood. Yet, after all, if it 
 had not been for the inspiration of the punch, I 
 might have continued a mute to this hour ; so for 
 the honour of the art, let us have another glass." 
 
 The speech which Mr Curran made upon this 
 occasion was immediately followed by a more sub- 
 stantial reward than the applauses of his hearers : 
 the debate was no sooner closed than the Presi- 
 dent of the society dispatched his Secretary to the 
 eloquent stranger, to solicit the honour of his 
 company to partake of a cold collations which 
 proved to consist of bread and cheese and porter ; 
 but the public motives of the invitation rendered 
 it to the guest the most delicious supper that he 
 had ever tasted. 
 
 From this time till his final departure from 
 London, he was a regular attendant and speaker 
 at debating clubs ; an exercise which he always 
 strongly recommended to every student of elo- 
 quence, and to which he attributed much of his 
 own skill and facility in extemporaneous debate. 
 He never adopted or approved of the practice of 
 committuig to memory intended speeches; but he 
 was in the habit of assisting his mind with an)ple
 
 42 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 notes of the leading topics, and trusted to the oc- 
 casion for expression. 
 
 The society that he latterly most frequented 
 was the well-known Robin Hood. He also some- 
 times attended a meeting for the discussion of re- 
 ligious questions, which was held on Sunday even- 
 ings, at the Brown Bear in the Strand, and re- 
 sorted to by persons of every persuasion, and by 
 many who were " honorary members of all faiths." 
 Whenever the claims of the Roman Catholics were 
 the subject of debate, he uniformly supported them. 
 From his zeal in their cause, and from his dress, 
 (a brown surtout over black) he was supposed by 
 strangers to be a young Priest of that order, and 
 was known in the club by the name of " the little 
 Jesuit from St Omers." * 
 
 Among Mr Curran's juvenile productions was 
 a poem of some length, written whilst he was at 
 
 * The same zeal for the emancipation of the Roman Catholics 
 whicli distinguished him for the rest of his life, produced similar 
 mistakes among strangers upon the subject of his religion. When 
 he was at Paris in 1814, he accompanied some friends to see Car- 
 dinal Fesch's gallery of paintings. The Frenchman in attendance 
 there was a good deal struck by j\Tr Curran's observations, and 
 upon the latter's retiring before the others, asked with some curio-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 43 
 
 the Temple; it is entitled, " On Friendship," and 
 addressed to Mr Weston of Newmarket. When 
 we consider the character of Mr Curran's oratory, 
 to which an excess of fervour and imagination has 
 been by some imputed as its imperfection, we 
 should naturally expect to see those qualities pre- 
 dominating when he found himself engaged in 
 subjects to which they so peculiarly belong ; but 
 this is not the case. From his youth to his old 
 age he was fond of writing poetry, and produced 
 a considerable quantity ; but in little of it do we 
 meet with that sustained ardour, with those fear- 
 less conceptions, and that diction teeming with 
 imagery, which distinguish his other productions. 
 When he occupied himself with poetry, he ap- 
 pears to have considered it rather as a recreation 
 to sooth himself, than as a means of excitinof 
 others. With the exception of a very few in- 
 stances, (which however prove his poetic capacity, 
 had he anxiously cultivated it), his verses are in 
 general placid, familiar, and unaspiring ; seldom 
 venturing beyond expressions of established form, 
 
 sity who he was. As soon as he heard his name, " Ah ! (said 
 he, with great surprise), je voyois bien qu'il avoit beaucoup d'esprit ; 
 mais, mon Dieu ! je n'aurois jamais soupfonnc que ce petit mon- 
 sieur fut Ic grand Calholique Irlaiidois."
 
 44- LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 and for the most part contented with those senti- 
 ments of obvious tenderness to which no mind of 
 any sensibility is a stranger. The opening of the 
 poem on Friendship is here inserted, for the sake 
 of the concluding image, which the late Mr Fox 
 (among others) particularly admired. 
 
 Here, on these banks, where many a bard has sung, 
 While Thames in listening silence flow'd along, 
 Where friendship's flame inspir'd the glowing verse. 
 To hail the triumph, or to mourn the hearse ; 
 On the same spot where weeping Thomson paid . 
 The last sad tribute to his Talbot's shade, 
 An humbler muse, by fond remembrance led, 
 Bewails the absent, where he mourn'd the dead. 
 Nor differ much the subjects of the strain. 
 Whether of death or distance we complain ; 
 Whether we're sunder'd by the final scene, 
 Or envious seas disjoining roll between ; 
 Absence, the dire effect, is still the same, 
 And death and distance differ but in name : 
 Yet sure they're different, if the peaceful grave 
 From haunting thoughts the low-laid tenant save. 
 While in this breathing death reflection lives, 
 And o'er the wreck of happiness survives. 
 Alas ! my friend, were Providence inclin'd 
 (Tn unrelenting wrath to human kind) 
 To take back every blessing that she gave, 
 From the wide ruin, she would Memory save.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 45 
 
 Else would severest ills be soon o'erpast, 
 
 Or kind oblivion bury them at last : 
 
 But Memory, with more than Egypt's art. 
 
 Embalming every grief that wounds the heart, 
 
 Sits at the altar she hath rais'd to Woe, 
 
 And feeds the source whence tears for ever flow. 
 
 In the course of this poem allusions are made 
 to the writer's future career in public life; and 
 those who have not yet learned to sneer at the 
 mention of political integrity, will be gratified to 
 observe how completely in the present instance 
 the visions of the poet were realized by the subse- 
 quent conduct of the man. 
 
 But in his country's cause, if patriot zeal 
 
 Excite him, ardent for the public weal, 
 
 With generous warmth to stem corruption's rage, 
 
 And prop the fall of an abandon'd age, 
 
 Bold in the senate he confronts the band 
 
 Of willing slaves that sell their native land ; 
 
 And, when the mitred hireling would persuade 
 
 That chains for man by Heaven's high will were made. 
 
 Or hoary jurist, in perversion wise, 
 
 Would sap the laws, and on their ruin rise. 
 
 While the mute 'squire and star-enamour'd bean 
 
 Are base in all they can — an " ay" or " no ! " 
 
 With equal scorn he views the venal train, 
 
 And sordid bribe that such a tribe can gain.
 
 4'6 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 And a little further on : 
 
 But if oppression lord it o'er the land, 
 And force alone can lawless force withstand, 
 Fearless he follows where his country calls, 
 And lives with freedom, or with glory falls ; 
 He gives that shackle he disdains to wear, 
 For endless fame, nor thinks the purchase dear. 
 
 This may not be very good poetry, but it evin- 
 ces, what is more honourable to the writer, and 
 what was in those days of more value to Ireland 
 than good poetry, an indignant sense of her con- 
 dition, and an impatience to redress it. It will 
 hereafter appear how far he fulfilled the engage- 
 ments of his youth. 
 
 From the above and similar productions,* and 
 from the indications of talent that his ordinary 
 conversation afforded, great hopes were now en- 
 tertained of him. According to all the accounts 
 of those who knew him at this time, his colloquial 
 
 * During the two years that preceded his admission to the Bar, 
 he wrote, besides the poem on Friendship, " Lines upon visiting 
 the Cave of Pope," and " Lines upon the poisoning a stream at 
 Frenchay," (where he had been driven by foul winds in one of his 
 passages from England to Ireland), which he composed for the 
 purpose of expressing his gratitude to a family of tiiat place, who 
 had given him a very hospitable reception.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 47 
 
 powers were, even then, of a very high order. Hav- 
 ing no hereditary fortune or powerful connexions 
 on which to depend, and having embraced an am- 
 bitious and hazardous profession, where, without 
 the reputation of superior abihty, there was httle 
 prospect of success, he appears to have habitually 
 exerted himself upon every occasion to substantiate 
 his claims, and justify his choice. The following 
 judgment was passed upon him at this period by 
 his future father-in-law, Dr Richard Creagh, of 
 Newmarket, a scholar and a man of cultivated 
 taste, whose prediction, in the present instance, 
 has been so completely verified. After mention- 
 ing, in one of his letters, the future ornament of 
 the Irish Bar, as " a young man of this town, 
 (one Jack Curran)," he proceeds, " take his cha- 
 racter from me. He possesses a good understand- 
 ing; is an excellent scholar; has some taste, and, 
 for his years, I think, a tolerable judgment; has 
 uncommon abilities ; is a proficient in music ; has 
 received an university education ; is now prepar- 
 ing for the Bar, for which profession he possesses 
 extraoi'dinary talents, and will disappoint all his 
 friends if he does not distinguish himself there. 
 As far as I can observe, he seems to be extremely
 
 48 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 cheerful and good-natured, and is remarkably 
 pleasant in conversation."* 
 
 In a letter of about the same date, from one of 
 Mr Curran's earliest friends, Mr Hudson,f we 
 find similar expectations prevail : alluding to the 
 melancholy that ran through a letter he had just 
 received from the other, he says, " Consider now 
 
 • Doctor Creagh was a physician, and a member of the very- 
 respectable family of that name in the county of Cork. Much of 
 the earlier part of his life had been passed on the continent, where 
 he had mixed in the society of the most celebrated men of talent ; 
 but he used often to declare, that neither abroad nor at home had 
 he ever met so delightful a companion as " young Jack Curran." 
 Yet the conversation of the latter was not, at this time, what it 
 subsequently became. It was full of vivacity, and of anecdotes to 
 which he could give an extraordinary degree of dramatic effect ; 
 but it bad not, as at a later period, those incessant and magical 
 transitions from the most comic trains of thought to the deepest 
 pathos, which were for ever bringing a tear into the eye before the 
 smile was off the lip ; nor that surprising controul over all the mys- 
 teries of language, which he acquired by his subsequent habits of 
 extemporaneous speaking. 
 
 Dr Creagh was a determined Whig, and had (no doubt) an in- 
 fluence in confirming the political inclinations of bis son-in-law. 
 It was also from Dr Creagh, who bad spent several years in France, 
 and was an excellent French scholar, that Mr Curran derived much 
 of his early taste for the language and literature of that country. 
 
 f Mr Edward Hudson, for a long course of years the most emi- 
 nent dentist in Ireland.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 49 
 
 and then, Jack, what you ai'e destined for ; and 
 never, even in your distresses, draw consolation 
 from so mean a thought, as that your abilities may 
 one day render your circumstances easy or afflu- 
 ent; but that you may one day have it in your 
 power to do justice to the wronged — to wipe the 
 tear from the widow or orphan, will afFoi^d the 
 satisfaction that is worthy of a man." 
 
 It would be injustice to suppress another pas- 
 sage. Having: a little before chided his friend for 
 neglecting to inform him of the state of his finan- 
 ces, Mr Hudson goes on, " I think I shall be a 
 man of no small fame to-morrow or next day, and 
 though 'tis but the fame of a dentist, yet if that of 
 an honest man is added to it, I shall not be unhap- 
 py. Write speedily to me, and if you are in want, 
 think I shall be not satisfied with my fortunes- 
 believe me I shall never think I make a better use 
 of my possessions than when such a friend as Jack 
 can assist me in their uses." The amiable and 
 respectable writer still lives, and if the union of 
 the two characters, to which in his youth he aspir- 
 ed, could confer happiness, he has been complete- 
 ly happy. 
 
 Many other proofs might be added (were it ne- 
 cessary) to show that Mr Curran was, even at this 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 LIFE OF CURHAN. 
 
 period, considered as much more than an ordinary 
 man ; that he had already obtained a very high 
 degree of estimation in the opinions of every per- 
 son of discernment who knew him. To be regard- 
 ed as an object of admiration and of hope by the 
 immediate circle of his friends, is, indeed, no more 
 than happens to every young man of any intellec- 
 tual pretensions; but to Mr Curran's honour it 
 should not be overlooked, that the friends who 
 entertained such sentiments towards him were, all 
 of them, those whose zeal and approbation he had 
 won for himself by his own character and talents. 
 Nor was a mere general respect for the latter the 
 only feeling that united them with him — they all 
 appear to have been animated by the most anxious 
 and affectionate attachment to his person. Their 
 letters to him abound with expressions of more 
 than usual endearment, with offers of pecuniary 
 supplies, and many other unequivocal demon- 
 strations of the extreme value in which they 
 held him. At this period of his life he used to 
 pass considerable intervals of time at his native 
 village, where he entered, with the most good- 
 natured vivacity, into all the little parties and 
 interests of the place. He whose lofty and in- 
 dependent spirit was a few years after to bring
 
 LIFE OF CUllRAN. 51 
 
 upon him the charge of " lectiu'ing the privy- 
 council,"* was in his social intercourse so little 
 fastidious or assuming, that he could find abun- 
 dant amusement among the harmless wits and po- 
 liticians of an obscure little town. Nor were these 
 mere temporary feelings, adopted for convenience, 
 and as evanescent as the occasions that excited 
 them — all his impulses were intensely social, and, 
 whether present or absent, his heart was still in 
 the midst of the friends and companions that he 
 loved. His letters from the Temple abound with 
 proofs of these amiable propensities : in none of 
 them is the Newmarket circle omitted ; he dedi- 
 cates a portion of every day to thinking of them, 
 and of every letter to inquiries after their health 
 and fortunes. This unpretending facility of man- 
 ners, showing how little natural the alliance be- 
 tween superiority of intellect and austereness of 
 demeanour, continued ever after prominent in his 
 character ; and from the event we may learn, that 
 such cheerful, conciliating, and sympathizing ha- 
 bits, are the surest road to lasting friendships. Of 
 these few persons ever enjoyed more — the greater 
 
 * An expression of Lord Clare's. — The whole scene is given 
 li€reaflcr.
 
 52 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 number have gone where he has followed — still a 
 few, and among them some of his earliest friends, 
 survive ; and it is no less honourable to their con- 
 stancy than to his memory, that the same men, 
 who, more than forty years ago, were cheering his 
 efforts, and admitting him to their affections, are 
 at this day, with unabated ardour, mourning his 
 loss and cherishing his fame. 
 
 The despondency which Mr Curran's generous 
 correspondent has just been seen so anxious to al- 
 leviate, was not merely casual. Notwithstanding 
 the liveliness of his conversation, from which a 
 stranger would have supposed that his spirits 
 never knew depression, he was all his life subject 
 to visitations of constitutional melancholy, which 
 the most ordinary accidents excited and imbitter- 
 ed; even at this early time it may be observed 
 constantly breaking out in his communications to 
 his friends. After having passed the long vaca- 
 tion of 1774 with his family in Ireland, he thus 
 writes to one of them upon his return to London. 
 
 " Apjohn and I arrived in London about eight 
 o'clock on Thursday. When I was set down, 
 and threw myself into a box in the next coffee- 
 house to me, 1 think I never felt so strangely in
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 53 
 
 my life. The struggle it cost me to leave Ireland, 
 and the pain of leaving it as I did, had been hur- 
 ried into a sort of numbness by the exertion of 
 such an effort, and a certain exclusion of thought, 
 which is often the consequence of a strong agita- 
 tion of mind: the hurry also of the journey might 
 in some measure have contributed to sooth for a 
 moment these uneasy sensations. But the exer- 
 tion was now over, the hurry was past; the bar- 
 riers between me and reflection now gave way, 
 and left me to be overwhelmed in the torrent. All 
 the difficulties I had encountered, the happy mo- 
 ments I had lately passed, all now rushed in upon 
 my mind, in melancholy succession, and engross- 
 ed the pang in their turn. 
 
 Revolving in his alter'd soul 
 
 The various turns of chance below, 
 
 And now and then a sigh he stole, 
 And tears began to flow. 
 
 " At length I roused myself from this mournful 
 reverie, and after writing a few words to New- 
 market, set out in search of some of my old ac- 
 quaintance. I sought them sorrowing, but there 
 was not even one to be found ; they had either 
 changed their abodes, or were in the country.
 
 54- LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 How trivial a vexation can wound a mind that is 
 once depressed ! Even this Httle disappointment, 
 though it was of no consequence, though it could 
 not surprise me, yet had the power to afflict me, 
 at least to add to my other mortifications. I could 
 not help being grieved at considering how much 
 more important changes may happen even in a 
 shorter time; how the dearest hopes and most 
 favourite projects of the heart may flourish, and 
 flatter us with gaudy expectations for a moment, 
 and then, suddenly disappearing, leave us to la- 
 ment over our wretchedness and our credulity. 
 Pleased with the novelty of the world, we fasten 
 eagerly on the bauble, till satiated with enjoy- 
 ment, or disgusted with disappointment, we re- 
 sign it with contempt. The world in general fol- 
 lows our example, and we are soon thrown aside, 
 like baubles, in our turn. And yet, dreary as the 
 prospect is, it is no small consolation to be attach- 
 ed to, and to be assured of the attachment of some 
 worthy affectionate souls, where we may find a 
 friendly refuge from the rigours of our destiny; to 
 have even one cono;enial bosom on which the 
 poor afflicted spirit may repose, which will feel- 
 ingly participate our joys or our sorrows, and 
 with equal readiness catch pleasure from our sue-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 55 
 
 cesses, or strive to alleviate the anguish of disap- 
 pointment." 
 
 In another letter, written a few weeks after, the 
 same unfortunate sensibility is more strikingly ex- 
 empMed, and more vigorously expressed. In 
 one passage we clearly recognize the peculiarities 
 of his subsequent style. 
 
 " I this day left my lodgings; the people were 
 so very unruly that I could stay no longer : I am 
 now at No. 4. in St Martin's-street, Leicester- 
 fields, not far from my former residence. You 
 will perhaps smile at the weakness, yet I must 
 confess it; never did I feel myself so spiritless, so 
 woe-begone, as when I was preparing for the re- 
 moval. I had settled myself with an expectation 
 of remaining till I should finally depart for Ire- 
 land; I was now leaving it before that period, 
 and my spirits sunk into a mixture of peevishness 
 and despondence at the disappointment. I had 
 emptied the desk belonging to the lodgings of my 
 few moveables, which I collected in a heap on 
 the floor, and prepared to dispose of in my little 
 trunk. Good Heavens ! in how many various 
 parts, and by how many various ways, may the 
 poor human heart be wounded ! Is it that even 
 Philosophy cannot so completely plunge her chil-
 
 56 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 dren in the waters of wisdom, that an heel, at 
 least, will not be left vulnerable, and exposed to 
 the danger of an arrow ? Is the fable equally ap- 
 plicable to the mind as to the body? And is all 
 our firmness and intrepidity founded ultimately 
 on our weakness and our foibles? May all our 
 giant fortitude be so lulled into slumber, as, ere it 
 awakes, to be chained to the ground by a few 
 Lilliputian grievances, and held immoveably by 
 such slender fetters ? Why else shall we be unac- 
 countably depressed? To leave the friends of my 
 heart, to tear myself from their last aflPecting fare- 
 well, to turn my face to a distant region, separat- 
 ed from them by mountains and oceans and tem- 
 pests; — to endure all this with something like 
 calmness, and yet to feel pain at changing from 
 one street to another ! Strange inconsistence I 
 and yet so it was. I proceeded very slowly to fill 
 the trunk. I could not please myself in the pack- 
 ing. Some letters now presented themselves; I 
 could not put them in without reading. At 
 lenffth I made an end of the work, and fell into 
 another reverie. I called to mind my first ac- 
 quaintance with my little trunk ; I industriously 
 hunted my memory for every thing that any way 
 related to it, and gave my recollection a great
 
 LIFE OF CUnilAN. 57 
 
 deal of credit for being so successful in makinc: 
 me miserable. At length I got it behind Tom 
 Gess, and saw poor Tom edging forward to avoid 
 its jolting, and longing to be relieved from his 
 durance. I saw it embark : over how many bil- 
 lows was it wafted from Cork to Bristol, over 
 how many miles from Bristol to London ! And 
 how small a portion of that distance must it mea- 
 sure back to-day 1 And must I be equally slow in 
 my return ? With such sensations I left Mrs 
 Turner's, perhaps as completely miserable as any 
 man in London." 
 
 Of some of his occupations he gives the follow- 
 ing account. 
 
 " As to my amusements, they are very few. 
 Since I wrote last, I went to one play. I com- 
 monly spend even more time at home, than I can 
 employ in reading of an improving or amusing 
 kind.* As I live near the Park, I walk there 
 
 • INIr Curran's cotemporaries at the Temple have confirmed his 
 own aicount of his habits at that period. He rose very early, 
 studied till he was exhausted, and then went out in search of his 
 fellow-students, with whom he passed the interval till the evening, 
 when they all generally repaired to any debating society that was 
 open. During his second year at the Temple, he spent a consider- 
 able portion of his time in the courts of law.
 
 5&, LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 some time every day. I sometimes find entertain- 
 ment in visiting the diversity of eating places with 
 which this town abounds. Here every coal-por- 
 ter is a politician, and vends his maxims in public 
 with all the importance of a man who thinks he is 
 exerting himself for the public service : he claims 
 the privilege of looking as wise as possible, and of 
 talking as loud, of damning the ministry and abus- 
 inff the kinsr, with less reserve than he would his 
 own equal. Yet, little as these poor people un- 
 derstand of the liberty they contend so warmly for, 
 or of the measures they rail against, it reconciles 
 one to their absurdity, by considering that they 
 are happy at so small an expense as being ridi- 
 culous ; and they certainly receive more pleasure 
 from the power of abusing, than they would from 
 the reformation of what they condemn. I take 
 the more satisfaction in this kind of company, as, 
 while it diverts me, it has the additional recom- 
 mendation of reconciling economy with amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " Another portion of time I have set apart every 
 day for thinking of my absent friends. Though 
 this is a duty that does not give much trouble to 
 jnany, I have been obliged to confine it, or endea- 
 vour to confine it, within proper bounds : I have
 
 LIFE OF CURBAN. 59 
 
 therefore made a resolution to avoid any reflec- 
 tions of this sort, except in their allotted season, 
 that is, immediately after dinner. I am then in a 
 tranquil, happy humour, and I increase that hap- 
 piness by presenting to my fancy those I love in 
 the most advantageous point of view : so that how- 
 ever severely I treat them when they intrude in 
 the morning, I make them ample amends in the 
 evening ; I then assure myself that they are twice 
 as agreeable, and as wise and as good as they 
 really are." 
 
 The conclusion of this letter shall be given, if 
 not for the sake of the incidents, at least to shew 
 the writer's sensibility to any pathetic occurrence 
 that fell in his way. 
 
 " I have lately made two acquaintances ; one a 
 Frenchman, Dr Du Garreau ; the other is a Ger- 
 man, Mr Skell, for whom I am indebted to the 
 doctor. With this latter I am not yet much ac- 
 quainted ; the former is really a man of under- 
 standing, and I believe of worth : he is the son of 
 an advocate in Paris, and practised there himself 
 as a physician for some time. He had conceived 
 an affection for a lady with whom the difference 
 of their religion prevented his union at home; 
 but, alas ! I believe love is of no particular sect ;
 
 60 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 at least eo the lady seemed to think, for she quitted 
 France with him, and took his honour as the se- 
 curity for his adhering to a ceremony performed 
 between them in Holland. After three or four 
 years residence in Amsterdam, where I suppose 
 his practice was not considerable, he brought his 
 wife and child to England last November. She 
 survived the journey but a few weeks, and left the 
 poor man surrounded by every distress. His friends 
 have pressed him to return; but he is determined 
 at all events to remain in England, rather than 
 carry his daughter to a country where she would 
 not be considered as legitimate. Rouelle had 
 hinted to me that there was something singular in 
 his fortune, but I did not know the particulars till 
 a few days since, that I breakfasted with him. 
 He had taken his little child on his knee, and 
 after trifling with her for a few moments, burst 
 into tears. Such an emotion could not but excite, 
 as well as justify, some share of curiosity. The 
 poor doctor looked as if he were conscious I felt 
 for him, and his heart was too full to conceal its 
 affliction. He kissed his little orphan, as he called 
 her, and then endeavoured to acquaint me with 
 the lamentable detail. It was the hardest story in 
 the world to be told by a man of delicacy. He
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 61 
 
 felt all the difficulties of it; he had many things 
 to palliate, some that wanted to be justified : he 
 seemed fully sensible of this, yet checked himself 
 when he slided into any thing like defence. I 
 could perceive the conflict shifting the colours on 
 his cheek, and I could not but pity him, and ad- 
 mire him for such an embarrassment. Yet, not- 
 withstanding all his distresses, he sometimes as- 
 sumes all the gaiety of a Frenchman, and is a very 
 entertaining fellow. These are the occasions on 
 which we are almost justified in repining at the 
 want of affluence; to relieve such an heart from 
 part of its affliction, surely for such a purpose it is 
 not ambitious to wish for riches." 
 
 One more of his letters in this year shall be in- 
 troduced as characteristic of his mind. The per- 
 son to whom it is addressed, a gentleman of the 
 most amiable and respected character, has sur- 
 vived the writer, but his name is at his own re- 
 quest reluctantly omitted. The friendship of which 
 the commencement of this letter contains a proof, 
 continued without diminution to the day of Mr 
 Curran's death. 
 
 " My dear Dick, 
 
 " Your packet was one of the most season- 
 able, on every account. As I think I mentioned
 
 62 LIFE OF CUllRAN. 
 
 to you when I should repay this kindness, in my 
 last, I need not repeat it here. I hope you don't 
 expect any news from me; if you did, I would be 
 under a necessity of disappointing you. Unfor* 
 tunately I have no gratification in seeing high 
 houses or tall steeples, no ear to be ravished by 
 barrel-organs, no public anxiety or private im- 
 portance by which vanity might lay hold on me, 
 no fine clothes, no abundance of money, to re- 
 commend me to the deity of pleasure. What 
 then can a poor devil like me either see or hear 
 that is worth communicating to a friend ? In 
 truth, I think I am nearly the same man I ever 
 was ; affecting to look wise, and to talk wise, and 
 exhausting most lavishly on looking and talking, 
 the wisdom that a better economist would reserve 
 for acting. And yet, Dick, perhaps this is na- 
 tural ; perhaps we are mistaken when we wonder 
 at finding frugality, or even avarice, on such good 
 terms with affluence, and extravagance inseparable 
 from poverty. In both cases they are effects that 
 flow naturally from their causes. They are the 
 genuine issue of their respective parents; who, to 
 own the truth, cherish and preserve their offspring 
 with a care truly parental, and unfailingly suc- 
 cessful. 'Tis just so in wisdom, and on the same
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 63 
 
 principle the man who has but a very small share 
 of wisdom, (like him whose purse is equally shal- 
 low), squanders it away on every silly occasion ; 
 he thinks it too trifling to be worth hoarding 
 against emergencies of moment ; but a very wise 
 man, or a very rich man, acts in a manner dia- 
 metrically opposite to this. When the one has 
 ranged his sentiments and marshalled his maxims, 
 and the other computed his tens of thousands, the 
 symmetry of their labours would be destroyed 
 should a single dogma escape to the banners of 
 unwiseness, or a single guinea take its flight to 
 supply an extravagance. Each atom of the ag- 
 gregate is held fast by its gravitation to the whole 
 mass : hence the fool is prodigal of his little wis- 
 dom, and the sixpence departs in peace from the 
 pocket, where it is not troubled with the ceremony 
 of bidding adieu to another. If any chance shoidd 
 make me master of some enormous treasure, I 
 would not despair of finding out its value ; and if 
 experience, and the industry of my own folly, 
 shall reap a harvest of prudence, I will make you 
 wonder at my care in drying it for use. I will 
 regale myself in my old age with the spirit of it, 
 and dispense the small tea to those who may have 
 occasion for it."
 
 64 LIFE OF curran; 
 
 ' During Mr Curran's attendance at the Temple, 
 the society in which he mixed was almost exclu- 
 sively that of his Irish fellow-students. He was 
 at that time too unknown to have access to the 
 circles of literature or fashion, and it was perhaps 
 fortunate for him that his obscurity saved him 
 from those scenes, where he might have contract- 
 ed the dangerous ambition of soaring when he 
 should have been learning to fly. Of the cele- 
 brated persons then in London, he used to men- 
 tion that he had seen Goldsmith once at a coffee- 
 house, Garrick (whom he recollected with enthu- 
 siasm) two or three times upon the stage, and 
 Lord Mansfield, whose dignified appearance made 
 a very solemn impression upon him, upon the 
 bench. The only man of any eminence that he 
 came into personal contact with was Macklin, the 
 actor; and the origin of their acquaintance was 
 rather singular. 
 
 After Mr Curran had concluded his terms, he 
 was detained for some time in London in expecta- 
 tion of a remittance from Ireland, without which 
 he could neither discharge his arrears at his lodg- 
 ings, nor return to his own country. At length, 
 just as his purse had attained " the last stage of 
 inanition," he received a bill of exchange upon a
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN.' 65 
 
 banking-house in Lombard-street : without stop- 
 ping to examine the bill minutely, he flew to pre- 
 sent it ; but the banker soon discovered that a 
 necessary indorsement was omitted, and of course 
 refused to pay it. Of the scene upon this occa- 
 sion, as it took place across the counter, his own 
 consternation at the dreadful tidings, and the 
 banker's insensibility to his distress, his solemn 
 and repeated protestations that the bill came from 
 a most respectable merchant in the butter trade at 
 Cork, and the wary citizen's marked distrust of 
 all that was Irish, Mr Curran used to give a most 
 dramatic and ludicrous description. Having left 
 the banker's, and being without a shilling in his 
 pocket, he strolled into St James's Park, where 
 he remained during his usual dinner hour, con- 
 sidering the means of relieving himself from his 
 present necessity; but after long reflection, he 
 could only come to one certain conclusion, that 
 the misfortune could never have happened more 
 inopportunely, every one of his Irish friends, to 
 whom alone he could have applied, having quitted 
 London, leaving him behind, awaiting this remit- 
 tance. 
 
 As he sat upon one of the benches, exhausted 
 with devising expedients, he began to whistle a 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 LIFE OF CURnAN. 
 
 melancholy old Irish air. An old gentleman seat- 
 ed at the other end, (it was Macklin), started at 
 the well-known sounds. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said the stranger, " may I venture 
 to ask where you learned that tune ?" 
 
 " Indeed, sir," replied the whistler, in the meek 
 and courteous tone of a spirit which affliction had 
 softened, " indeed you may, sir ; I learned it in 
 my native country, — in Ireland." 
 
 " But how comes it, sir, that at this hour, while 
 other people are dining, you continue here, whist- 
 ling old Irish airs ?" 
 
 " Alas ! sir, I too have been in the habit of 
 dining of late ; but to-day, my money being all 
 gone, and my credit not yet arrived, I am even 
 forced to come and dine upon a whistle in the 
 park." 
 
 Struck by the mingled despondence and play- 
 fulness of this confession, the benevolent veteran 
 exclaimed, " Courage, young man ! I think I can 
 see that you deserve better fare : come along with 
 me, and you shall have it." 
 
 - About ten years after this interview, Macklin 
 came to Dubhn : Mr Curran, who in the inter- 
 val had risen to eminence, was invited one even- 
 ing to a party where the actor was one of the
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 67 
 
 company. They were presented to each other, but 
 JVIacklui failed to recojjnize in the now celebrated 
 advocate and orator, the distressed student in St 
 James's Park. Mr Curran, perceiving this, ab- 
 stained for the moment from claiming any ac- 
 quaintance; but he contrived in a little time to 
 introduce a conversation upon the acts of kindness 
 and hospitality which Irishmen so generally re- 
 ceive abroad from such of their countrymen as 
 they may chance to meet ; as a proof of which, 
 he began to relate what had happened to himself, 
 and proceeded to give a vivid picture of the scene, 
 and (suppressing the name) of the generous old 
 man who had befriended him in a land of strangers. 
 A glow of recollection was soon observed upon the 
 player's countenance; he started, and fixing his 
 eyes upon the speaker, " If my memory fails me 
 not, sir," said he, « we have met before ?" " Yes, 
 Mr Macklin," replied Mr Curran, taking his hand, 
 " indeed we have met ; and though upon that oc- 
 casion you were only performing upon a private 
 theatre, let me assure you, that (to adopt the 
 words of a high judicial personage, which you 
 have heard before), you never acted better.''''* 
 
 * These words were addressed from the bench by Lord Mans* 
 field to Mr Macklin, to mark his approbation of (he liberal con-
 
 <&8 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Before dismissing this period of Mr Curran's 
 Listory, a few words may be added upon the sub- 
 ject of the studies and intellectual habits of his 
 early days ; for in consequence of his not having 
 devoted much time in his later years to books, 
 and still more from the great predominance of 
 imagination over learning to be observed in all 
 the productions of his mind, an opinion has ge- 
 nerally prevailed that his reading was extremely 
 circumscribed, and that he was from taste, or by 
 constitution, intolerant of any regular application. 
 If such were the fact, notwithstanding the dangei' 
 of the example, it still would not be denied ; the 
 indolent should have all the benefit or all the 
 mischief of such a precedent ; but, in truth, Mr 
 Curran never was a mere gifted idler. He might 
 not, indeed, have been always found with a book 
 • before him, he might not have been nominally a 
 severe student; but for the course of forty years 
 he kept his faculties in perpetual exercise ; and if 
 all that he created in public, or in the society of 
 his friends, had been composed in the retirement 
 
 duct of the latter in a cause to which he was a party, and which 
 was tried before his Lordship in 1774. The proceedings in that 
 interesting case are given at length in Kirkman's Life of Macklia.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 69 
 
 of the closet, it would have scarcely been asserted 
 that idleness was the habit of his mind. 
 
 In his youth he was a formal student, to a 
 greater extent than is generally supposed. Be- 
 fore he had attained the age of twenty-five, when 
 he was called to the bar, independent of his classi- 
 cal acquirements, which have never been doubted, 
 his acquaintance with general literature was far 
 from inconsiderable. He was perfectly familiar 
 with all the most popular of the English poets, his- 
 torians, and speculative writers. He had at the 
 same age, with little assistance but that of books, 
 acquired more than a common knowledge of the 
 French language. If he did not pursue a long 
 consecutive course of legal reading, he was yet 
 perpetually making a vigorous plunge, from which 
 he seldom returned without some proof that he had 
 reached the bottom. For several years after his 
 admission to the bar, he devoted more of his 
 mornings and evenings to the study of his pro- 
 fession than his most intimate friends at the time 
 could have believed to be compatible with his 
 convivial habits and public avocations. His frame 
 was never robust, but it was extremely patient of 
 fatigue ; and no matter how great the exhaustion 
 of the day, or the evening, a very few hours sleep
 
 70 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 completely restored it: this natural felicity of con-' 
 stitution he confirmed by early rising, constant 
 exercise, the daily practice of cold bathing, and 
 simiLar methods of invigorating the system. 
 
 Indeed when it is recollected that, at the pe- 
 I'iod of his life at present under consideration, 
 he was looking to the bar alone for the means 
 of future subsistence, and for the gratification of 
 his ambition, it is utterly incredible that he should 
 have neglected the ordinary arts by which success 
 was to be attained. According to the concur- 
 ring accounts of himself and his cotemporaries, 
 he neglected none of them. Eloquence was at 
 that time not only the most popular, but one of 
 the shortest roads to eminence at the Irish bar; 
 and from the moment of the discovery of his 
 powers as a speaker, he began, and continued, to 
 cultivate them with the utmost assiduity. His 
 enunciation (as has been already observed) was 
 naturally impeded, his voice shrill, and his accent 
 strongly provincial, or (to use his own expres- 
 sion) " in a state of nature:" to remove these de- 
 fects, he adopted the practice of daily reading 
 aloud, slowly and distinctly, and of studiously ob- 
 serving and imitating the tones and manner of 
 more skilful speakers. The success of this exer-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 71 
 
 cise and study was so complete, that among his 
 most unrivalled excellencies as an orator, were 
 the clearness of his articulation, and a peculiar, 
 uninterrupted, graduated intonation ; which, what- 
 ever was the subject, whether tender or impassion- 
 ed, melodized every period. His person was with- 
 out dignity or grace — short, slender, and inele- 
 gantly proportioned. To attain an action, that 
 might conceal as much as possible these deficien- 
 cies, he recited perpetually before a mirror, and 
 selected the gesticulation that he thought best 
 adapted to his imperfect stature. To habituate 
 his mind to extemporaneous fluency, he not only 
 regularly attended the debating clubs of London, 
 but, both before and after his admission to the 
 bar, resorted to a system of solitary exercise, of 
 which the irksomeness cannot be well appreciated 
 by those who have never practised it. ' He either 
 extracted a case from his books, or proposed to 
 himself some original question; and this he used 
 to debate alone, with the same anxious attention 
 to argument and to diction, as if he were discuss- 
 ing it in open court. There is nothing in all 
 this to excite any wonder; but certainly the per- 
 son who early submitted to these modes of labour,
 
 "72 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 and frequently resumed them, cannot be consider- 
 ed as careless or incapable of application. 
 
 It may be a matter of curiosity with some, to 
 know the writers, that, having been Mr Curran's 
 early favourites, may be supposed to have had an 
 influence in forming bis style. Some of his let- 
 ters, already given, discover in different passages 
 a preference for the manner of Sterne; a similar 
 resemblance appears more frequently, and more 
 strongly, in several others of about the same date, 
 which have not been introduced. It was from 
 the "Letters of Junius," that he generally de- 
 claimed before a glass.* Junius and Lord Bo- 
 lingbroke were the English prose writers, whom 
 he at that time studied as the most perfect models 
 of the declamatory style. Among the English 
 poets, he was passionately fond of " Thomson's 
 
 • The single exercise that lie most frequently repeated for the 
 purpose of improving his action and intonation, was the speech of 
 Antony over Caesar's body, from Shakespeare's Julius Ca;sar. 
 This he considered to be a masterpiece of eloquence, comprising 
 in itself, and involving in its delivery, the whole compass of the 
 art. He studied it incessantly, and pronounced it with great skill, 
 but though he delighted his auditors, he never entirely satisfied 
 himself: he uniformly recommended it as a lesson to his youne 
 fiiends at the bar.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 73 
 
 Seasons." He often selected exercises of deliverj 
 from " Paradise Lost," which he then admired, 
 but subsequently (and it is hoped that few will at- 
 tempt to justify the change), his sensibility to the 
 beauties of that noble poem greatlj'- subsided.* In 
 this list the sacred writings must not be omitted : 
 independent of their more solemn titles to his re- 
 spect, Mr Curran was from his childhood exqui- 
 sitely alive to their mere literary excellencies; and 
 in his maturcr years seldom failed to resort to 
 them, as to a source of the most splendid and aw- 
 ful topics of persuasion. f 
 
 Before quitting the subject of Mr Curran's 
 youthful habits, it is proper to mention the plea- 
 
 * In criticising I\Iilton, Mr Curran always dwelt upon what 
 others have considered among the most splendid and attractive 
 parts of his work, the scenes in Paradise ; in objecting to which, 
 he contended that the human characters introduced are detached 
 and solitary beings, whose peculiar situation precluded them from 
 displaying the various social feelings and passions, vi'hich are the 
 proper subjects of poetic emotion. For a vigorous and eloquent 
 answer to this objection, see Hazlitt's observations on Paradise 
 Lost, in his Lectures upon the English Poets. 
 
 f Of all the profane writers, Virgil, whom he considered " the 
 prince of sensitive poets," was his favourite. For a considerable 
 part of bis life, he made it a rule to read Homer once a-year ; but 
 the more congenial tenderness of Virgil attracted him every day. ^
 
 .74- LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 sure that he took in occasionally mingling in the 
 society of the lower orders of his countrymen; he 
 was a frequent attendant at the weddings and wakes 
 in his neighbourhood. Being from his infancy 
 familiar with the native Irish language, he lost 
 nothing of whatever interest such meetings could 
 afford. They appear to have had considerable 
 influence on his mind : he used to say himself, that 
 he derived his fiist notions of poetry and eloquence 
 from the compositions of the hired mourner over 
 the dead.* It was probably amidst those scenes 
 
 • It may be necessary to inform some English readers, that the 
 practice of formal lamentations over the dead is one of the ancient 
 customs of the Irish, which is continued among the lower orders to 
 the present day. In the last century, it was not unusual upon the 
 death of persons of the highest condition. The ceremony is gene- 
 rally performed by women, who receive a remuneration for com- 
 posing and reciting a " Coronach" at the wake of the departed. In 
 some parts of Ireland, these women used formerly to go about the 
 country, to " look in" upon such elderly persons as might soon re- 
 quire their attendance ; and to remind them, tliat whenever the 
 hour might arrive, a noble Coronach should be ready. Mr Cur- 
 ran's father-in-law, Dr Creagh, was so molested by one of these 
 dispiriting visitors, and had such an aversion to the usage, that in 
 the first will he ever made he thus begins, after the usual preamble, 
 " requesting it as a favour of my executors, that neither at my 
 wake, nor at my funeral, they will suffer any of the savage howl-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 75 
 
 that he acquired the rudiments of that thorough 
 knowledire of the Irish character, of which he 
 afterwards made so amusing an use in enlivening 
 a company, and so important a one in confound- 
 ing a perjured witness. It may have been, too, 
 in this humble intercourse, that some even of his 
 finer tastes and feelings originated or were con- 
 firmed. Out of Ireland the genius of its natives 
 is in general but partly known. They are, for the 
 most part, represented as comical and impetuous, 
 qualities which, lying upon the surface, strike the 
 stranger and superficial observer ; but with these 
 they unite the deepest sensibility. It is the latter 
 that prevails; and if their pathetic sayings had 
 been as sedulously recorded as their lively sallies, 
 it would be seen that they can be as eloquent in 
 their lamentations as they are original in their 
 humour. Of these almost national peculiarities, 
 so opposite, yet so constantly associated, Mr Cur- 
 ran's mind strongly partook ; and in his, as in his 
 country's character, melancholy predominated. In 
 his earliest, as well as his latest speculations, he 
 
 ings, and insincere l3mentation<:, that are usually practised upon 
 tliese serious and melancholy occasions, but to see the whole of iny 
 burial conducted with silence and Christian decency."
 
 76 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 inclined to take a desponding view of human af- 
 fairs — he appeared, indeed, more frequently in 
 smiles to relax his mind, or to entertain his com-, 
 panions ; but when left entirely to his original 
 propensities, he seems to have ever wept from 
 choice. 
 
 One conjecture more shall be hazarded, and so 
 pleasing a one, that few can wish it to be unfound- 
 ed. It was probably from this early intercourse 
 with the peasantry of his country, and from the 
 consequent conviction of their unmerited degra- 
 dation, that sprang that unaffected, soul-felt sym- 
 pathy for their condition, so conspicuous in his 
 political career. Upon this subject it was evi- 
 dent that his heart was deeply involved. From 
 them^ notwithstanding much temptation and many 
 dangers, his affections never wavered. From 
 the first dawn of political obligation upon his 
 mind to his latest hour, (an interval of more 
 than half a century), he never thought or spoke 
 of them but with tenderness, pity, and indigna- 
 tion. At the bar, in the senate,* on the bench,. 
 
 • Upon one occasion, alluding in parliament to the general apa- 
 thy of the ministry to the condition of the great body of the Irish 
 people, he observed, " I am sorry to see that the rays of the ho-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 77 
 
 amidst his family and friends, or in the society 
 of the most illustrious personages of the empire, 
 the sufferings of the Irish peasant were remember- 
 ed, and their cause pleaded with an energy and 
 reality that proved how well he knew, and how 
 deeply he felt for that class whose calamities he 
 deplored. " At any time of my life," said he, " I 
 might, to a certain degree, as well as others, have 
 tied up my countrymen in bundles, and sold them 
 at the filthy market of corruption, and have raised 
 myself to wealth and station, and remorse — to the 
 envy of the foolish, and the contempt of the wise ; 
 but I thought it more becoming to remain below 
 among them, to mourn over and console them ; or, 
 where my duty called upon me, to reprimand and 
 rebuke them, when they were acting against them- 
 selves." 
 
 In some of the published accounts of Mr Cur- 
 ran's life it has been stated, that when at the Tem- 
 ple, and afterwards while struggling into notice at 
 
 nourablc member's panegyric were not vertical ; like the beams of 
 the morning, they courted the mountain-tops, and left the valleys 
 unilluminated — they fell only upon the great, while the miserable 
 poor were left ia the shade." — Debates in Irish House of Conv- 
 mona, 1787.
 
 78 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the bar, lie derived part of his subsistence from 
 contributions to literaiy works ; but for this there 
 is no foundation. During the first year of his re- 
 sidence in London his means were supplied partly 
 by his relatives in Ireland, and partly by some of 
 his more affluent companions, who considered his 
 talents a sufficient security for their advances. In 
 the second year he married a daughter of the 
 Doctor Creagh already mentioned; her portion was 
 not considerable, but it was so carefully managed, 
 and his success at the bar was so rapid, that he 
 was ever after a stranger to pecuniary difficulties. 
 It may, too, be here observed, that had he been 
 originally more favoured by fortune, his prospect 
 of distinguished success in his profession might 
 not have been so great. There is, perhaps, fully 
 as much truth as humour in the assertion of an 
 English judge, that a barrister's first requisite for 
 attaining eminence is " 7iot to be worth a s/iillin":^^* 
 The attractions of the bar, when viewed from a 
 distance, will dazzle and seduce for a while. To 
 
 • The learned judge alluded to, upon being asked " What con- 
 duced most to a barrister's success?" is said to have replied, " that 
 barristers succeeded by many methods ; some by great talents, some 
 by high connexions, some by a miracle, but the inajoritif h\j com- 
 mencing without a shiliing."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 79 
 
 a voung and generous spirit it seems, no doubt, a 
 proud thing to mix in a scene where merit and 
 talent alone are honoured, where he can emulate 
 the example, and perhaps reach the distinctions 
 of our Hales, and Holts, and Mansfields. But all 
 this fancied loveliness of the prospect vanishes the 
 moment you approach and attempt to ascend. 
 As a calling, the bar is perhaps the most difficulty 
 and after the first glow of enthusiasm has gone by, 
 the most repelling. To say nothing of the vio- 
 lence of the competition, which alone renders it 
 the most hazardous of professions, the intellectual 
 labour and the unintellectual drudgery that it 
 involves, are such as few have the capacity, or, 
 without the strongest incitements, the patience to 
 endure. To an active and philosophic mind the 
 mei-e art of reasoning, the simple perception of 
 relations, whatever the subject matter may be, 
 is an exercise in which a mind so constituted 
 may delight ; but to such a one the study of the 
 law has but little to offer. If the body of Eng- 
 lish law be a scientific system, it is a long time 
 a secret to the student ; it has few immutable 
 truths, few master-maxims, few regular scries of 
 necessary and nicely adapted inferences. In vain 
 will the student look for a few general prin-
 
 so LIFE OF CUHRAN* 
 
 ciples, to whose friendly guidance he may trust, 
 to conduct him unerringly to his object : to him 
 it is all- perplexity, caprice, and contradiction* 
 -^arbitrary and mysterious rules, of which to 
 trace and comprehend the reasons is the work 
 of years — forced constructions, to which no equity 
 of intention can reconcile — logical evasions, from 
 which the mind's pride indignantly revolts — of all 
 these the young lawyer meets abundance in his 
 books ; and to encounter and tolerate them, he 
 must have some stronger inducement than a mere 
 liberal ambition of learning or of fame. We con- 
 sequently find, that there is no other profession 
 supplying so many members who never advance 
 a sino-le step ; no other which so many abandon, 
 disousted and disheartened by the sacrifices that 
 it exacts. 
 
 * This was at least wliat Mr Curran found it. In his poem on 
 Friendship, already mentioned, he says, 
 
 ' " Oft, when condemn'd 'midst Gothic tomes to pore, 
 And, dubious, con th' embarrass'd sentence o'er. 
 While meteor meaning sheds a sickly ray 
 Through the thick gloom, then vanishes away. 
 With the dull toil tired out, th' indignant mind 
 Burste from the yoke, and wanders unconfined."
 
 LIPE OF CURRAN. 81 
 
 To these fearful pursuits Mr Curran brought 
 every requisite of mind, character, and educa- 
 tion, besides the above grand requisite of want 
 of fortune. Instead of being surprised at his emi- 
 nent success, the wonder would have been if such 
 a man had failed. Having acquirements and hopes, 
 and a station, above his circumstances, to hold his 
 ground, he could not allow his powers to slumber 
 for a moment. His poverty, his pride, a secret 
 consciousness of his value, an innate superstitious 
 dread of obscurity, " that last infirmity of noble 
 minds," kept him for ever in motion, and impa- 
 tient to realize his own expectations, and the pre- 
 dictions of those friends by whom his efforts were 
 applauded and assisted. 
 
 It appears in a passage of one of his letters from 
 the Temple, that he had, for a while, an idea of 
 trying his fortune at the American bar. " Mrs 
 W." says he, " concludes her letter with men- 
 tioning her purpose of revisiting America, and 
 repeating her former advice to me on that subject. 
 As for my part, I am totally undetermined. I 
 may well say, with Sir Roger de Coverley, that 
 * much may be said on both sides.' The scheme 
 might be attended with advantage; yet I fear my 
 mother, especially, would not be easily reconciled 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 to such a step." But he soon abandoned the idea ; 
 for in a letter dated a few weeks after, he says : — 
 *' As to the American project, I presume it is 
 unnecessary to tell you that the motives are now 
 no more, and that the design has expired of con- 
 sequence. 1 have been ui'ged to be called to that 
 bar, and my chief inducement was my friendship 
 for Mrs W., to whom I might be useful in that 
 way; but there is so little likelihood of her going, 
 that I shall scarcely have an opportunity of sacri- 
 ficing that motive to my attachment for Ireland."
 
 I-IFE OF CURRAN. 83 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mr Curran called to the Irish bar — Dissimilarities between tliat 
 and the English bar — Causes of the difference. 
 
 Mr Curran was called in Michaelmas term^ 
 1775, to the Irish bar, which was to occupy so 
 distinguished a portion of his future life ; but as 
 the genius and habits of that bar, during the whole 
 of his career, differed in many particulars essen- 
 tially from that of England, it will be necessary 
 to make a passing allusion to those distinctions, 
 without which English readers might find it diffi- 
 cult to reconcile the specimens of his eloquence 
 that occur in the following pages, with their pre- 
 vious ideas of forensic oratory. 
 
 No person who has attended to the course of 
 forensic proceedings in the two countries can have 
 failed to observe, that, while in England they are 
 (with a very few exceptions) carried on with cold 
 and rigorous formality, in Ireland they have not 
 unfrequently been marked by the utmost vivacity 
 and eloquence. The English barrister, even in
 
 84 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 cases of the deepest interest, where powerful emo- 
 tions are to be excited, seldom ventures to exer- 
 cise his imagination, if, indeed, long habits of re- 
 straint have left him the capacity to do so : yet in 
 the Irish courts, not only are such subjects dis- 
 cussed in a style of the most impassioned oratory, 
 but many examples might be produced, where 
 questions more strictly technical, and apparently 
 the most inappropriate themes of eloquence, have 
 still been made the occasion of very fervid appeals 
 to the feelings or the fancy. This latitude of orna- 
 ment and digression, once so usual at the Irish bar, 
 has been never known, and would never have beeir 
 tolerated in Westminster-Hall. It would there be 
 deemed no less new than extravagant, to hear a 
 counsel pathetically reminding the presiding judge 
 of the convivial meetings of their early days,* or 
 enlivening his arguments on a grave question of 
 law by humorous illustration.f Yet was all this 
 
 * See Mr Curran's apostrophe to Lord Avonmore, chap. iv. 
 
 f Of these, examples without number might be produced from. 
 Mr Curran's law arguments. His published speech in the Court of 
 Exchequer, on Mr Justice Johnson's case, is full of them. Equally 
 striking instances occur in his argument on the same question 
 before the Court of King's Bench. " The minister going to the 
 House of Commons might be arrested upon the information of an
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 85 
 
 listened to in Ireland with favour and admiration. 
 It had, indeed, little influence upon the decisions 
 of the bench. The advocate mio-ht have excited 
 the smiles or tears of his hearers, but no legal 
 concessions followed. The judges, who showed 
 the most indulgence and sensibility to these epi- 
 sodes of fancy, were ever the most conscientious in 
 preserving the sacred stability of law. Into the 
 counsel's mirth or tenderness, no matter how di- 
 gressive, they entered for the moment, more pleased 
 
 Irish chairman, and the warrant of a trading justice. Mr Pitt 
 might be brought over here in vinculis. What to do ? to see whe- 
 ther he can be bailed or not. I remember Mr Fox was once here 
 — during the lifetime of this country — so might he be brought over. 
 It may facilitate the intercourse between the countries, for jny 
 man may travel at the public expense ; as, suppose I gave an Irish- 
 man in London a small assault in trust ; when the vacation comes, 
 he knocks at the door of a trading justice, and tells him he wants 
 a warrant against the counsellor. — What counsellor? — Oh, sure 
 every body knows the counsellor.— Well, friend, and what is your 
 name? — Thady O'Flannigan, please your honour. — WTiat country- 
 man are you? — An Englishman by construction. — Very well, I'll 
 draw upon my correspondent in Ireland for the body of the coun- 
 sellor." 
 
 For a more modern example of eloquence and humour upon such 
 questions, the Irish reader is referred to the argument of the pre- 
 sent Solicitor-general (Mr C. K. Bushe), in the case of the King 
 against O' Grady.
 
 86 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 than otherwise with irregularities that gratified 
 their taste, and relieved their labour; but with 
 them the triumph of eloquence was evanescent 
 — the oration over, they resumed their gravity and 
 firmness, and proved by their ultimate decision, 
 that if they relaxed for an instant, it was from ur- 
 banity, and not from any oblivion of the para- 
 mount duties of their station. The effects, how- 
 ever, which such appeals to the passions produced 
 (as they still continue to do) upon juries, was very 
 different ; and when the advocate transferred the 
 same style into his addresses to the bench, it was 
 not that his judgment had selected it as the most 
 appropriate, but because he found it impossible to 
 avoid relapsing into those modes of influencing 
 the mind, which he had been long habituated to 
 employ with so much success in another quarter. 
 
 In accounting for this adoption at the Irish bar 
 of a style of eloquence so much more fervid and 
 poetical than the severer notions of the English 
 courts would approve, something must be attri- 
 buted to the influence of the national character. 
 From whatever cause it has arisen, the Irish are 
 by temperament confessedly more warm and im- 
 petuous than their neighbours : their passions ly- 
 ing nearer the surface, their actions are more go-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 87 
 
 verned by impulse, and their diction more adorn- 
 ed by imagination, than it would be reasonable to 
 expect in a colder and a more advanced and phi- 
 losophic people. In addressing persons so con- 
 stituted, the methods most likely to prevail are 
 sufficiently obvious. The orator, who knows any 
 thing of his art, must be aware, that frigid de- 
 monstration alone is not the best adapted to men, 
 who take a kind of pride in regulating their de- 
 cisions by their emotions, and that a far more 
 certain artifice of persuasion must be, to fill their 
 minds with those glowing topics, by which they 
 habitually persuade themselves. 
 
 It may be observed too, that although the ha- 
 bits of mind which must be cultivated, in order to 
 succeed in such a style of eloquence, arc altoge- 
 ther different from those involved in the study of 
 the law; yet in Ireland they have never been 
 deemed incompatible with legal occupations. The 
 preparation for the bar there, has never been so 
 entirely technical as it usually is in England : a 
 very general taste for polite literature and popular 
 acquirements has been united with the more stern 
 and laborious attainments of professional know- 
 ledge, and it is to this combination of pursuits, 
 that invigorate tiie understanding with those
 
 88 LIFE OF CUBRAN. 
 
 which exercise the imagination and improve the 
 taste, that must be attributed that mass of varied 
 and effective talent, which has so long existed 
 anions the members of the Irish bar. 
 
 But the immediate cause of that animated stvle 
 of eloquence that has of late years prevailed there, 
 appears to have been the influence of the Irish 
 House of Commons. 
 
 It was principally in the productions of the 
 eminent leaders in that house, that the modern 
 school of Irish oratory originated. In Ireland, 
 this popular style made its way from the senate to 
 the bar; though at first view such a transition 
 may not seem either necessary or natural. In 
 England it has not taken place. At the time that 
 the first Mr Pitt, the pride of the English senate, 
 was exalting and delighting his auditors by the 
 majesty of his conceptions and the intrepid origi- 
 nality of his diction, Westminster- Hall remained 
 inaccessible to any contagious inspiration. At a 
 later period, upon the memorable trial of Warren 
 Hastings, the contrast is brought more palpably 
 to view. While the celebrated prosecutors in that 
 cause were soaring as high as imagination could 
 find language to sustain it, while they were " shak- 
 ing the walls that surrounded them with those
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 89 
 
 anathemas of super-human eloquence," * which 
 remain among the recorded models of British 
 oratory, the lawyers who conducted the defence 
 were in general content to retaliate with tranquil 
 argument and uninspired refutation. The intro- 
 duction, therefore, of the parliamentary manner 
 into the courts of Ireland, is to be accounted for 
 by some circumstances peculiar to that country. 
 
 During the period when eloquence flourished 
 most in the Irish parliament, that is, for the last 
 forty years of its existence, the number of barris- 
 ters in the House of Commons bore a much 
 
 * Erskine's defence of Stockdale. This celebrated advocate 
 may be adduced in refutation of some of the above opinions, and 
 it must be admitted that in some degree he forms an exception ; 
 yet, without inquiring now, whether his was a style of eloquence 
 peculiar to tlie individual, or characteristic of the English bar, it 
 may be observed, that it differed essentially from that which pre- 
 vailed at this time in the British Parliament, and to a still greater 
 extent in the Irish senate and at the Irish bar. If he had produc- 
 ed many such passages as that of the American savage, it would 
 have been otherwise ; but his general strength did not lie in the 
 fervour' of his imagination : it was by the vigour of his ethics and 
 his logic, enforced by illustrations rather felicitous than impassion- 
 ed, that he brought over the judgment to his side. It is not in- 
 tended by these remarks to assign a superiority to either style — it 
 is to be supposed that the eminent advocates of the two bars adopt- 
 ed the manner best suited to their respective countries.
 
 90! LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 greater proportion to the whole, than has been 
 at any time usual in England.* In those days, 
 the policy by which Ireland was governed being 
 in the utmost degree unpopular, the whole pa- 
 tronage of the Irish administration was necessarily 
 expended in alluring supporters of the measures 
 against which the nation exclaimed. A majority 
 of numbers in the House of Commons could then 
 be easily procured, and for a long time such a 
 majority had been sufficient for every purpose of 
 the government ; but at the period in question, 
 the increasing influence and talent of the minority 
 rendered it necessary to adopt every method of 
 opposing them (if possible) with a predominance 
 of intellect. The means of doinff this, it would 
 appear, were not to be found in that body which 
 ruled the country, and recourse was had to the 
 expedient of inlisting the rising men at the bar 
 iri the service of the administration.-j- Accord- 
 
 * See the biographical sketches of the eminent Irish senators 
 in Hardy's Life of Lord Charlemont. See also note, chap. iv. 
 
 f Such was the commencement of (among others) the late Lord 
 Clonmel's fortune. " The Marquis of Townshend had expressed 
 his wishes to Lord Chancellor Lifiord, for the assistance of some 
 young gentleman of the bar, on whose talent and fidelity he might 
 rely, in the severe parliamentary campaigns then (1769) likely to
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 91 
 
 ingly, every barrister, who had popular abilities 
 enough to render his support of any moment, 
 found a ready admission into parliament, upon 
 the condition of his declaring for the viceroy ; 
 and in the event of his displaying sufficient talent 
 and constancy, was certain of being rewarded with 
 the highest honours of his profession. 
 
 But independent of those who were thus intro- 
 duced to the senate, the bar was the profession 
 most generally resorted to by the members or de- 
 pendents of the highest families, as one in which, 
 without any claim of merit, they could, through 
 the influence of their patrons, obtain situations of 
 
 take place. Lord Liftbrd recommended Mr Scott, -vvho was ac- 
 cordingly returned to parliament, to oppose the party led on by 
 the celebrated Flood." — Hardy's Life of Lord Charlemont. 
 
 The necessity of calling in such aid gives us but a poor idea of 
 the education and talents of the Irish aristocracy of the time. Mr 
 Grattan, in 1797, thus mentions the great improvement in the in- 
 tellect of his country that he had witnessed. " The progress of 
 the human mind in the course of the last twenty-five years has 
 been prodigious in Ireland ; I remember when there scarcely ap- 
 peared a publication in a newspaper of any degree of merit, which 
 was not traced to some person of note, on the part of government 
 or the opposition ; but now a multitude of very powerful publica- 
 tions appear, from authors entirely unknown, of profound and 
 spirited investigation." — Letter to the Citizens of Dublin.
 
 92 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 professional emolument, and where, if they pos- 
 sessed such a claim, the road was open to legal 
 preferment and to political distinction ; and con- 
 sequently all of the latter description, recommend- 
 ed by their talents, and supported by the power 
 of their connexions, found access to the House of 
 Commons, long before that period of standing 
 and of professional reputation, at which the suc- 
 cessful English barrister is accustomed, or deems 
 it prudent, to become a senator. 
 
 These circumstances alone would in a great 
 degree account for the number of lawyers in the 
 Irish parliament; but it should be farther observed, 
 that it was not any particular class that looked to 
 or obtained a seat in that assembly. The ambi- 
 tion of appearing there was very general at the 
 Irish bar ; it was the grand object upon which 
 every enterprizing barrister fixed his eye and his 
 heart. This was the age of political speculation ; 
 it was " Ireland's life-time." Great original ques- 
 tions were daily agitated in her parliament. The 
 struggle between popular claims and ancient pre- 
 rogatives was a scene where much seemed likely 
 to be gained, — by the venal, for themselves, — by 
 the honest, for their country ; but whether con- 
 sidered as a post of honour or of profit, it was
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 95 
 
 one to which men of colder temperaments than 
 the Irish might be easily moved to aspire. 
 
 The consequence of this intermixture of politi- 
 cal with legal pursuits was, that the talents most 
 suited to advance the former were much cultivated 
 and constantly exercised ; and from this difference 
 in the objects and habits of the bars of the two 
 countries, appear to have principally resulted the 
 different styles of oratory displayed by the mem- 
 bers of each, both in their parliamentary and for- 
 ensic exertions. The English barrister, long dis- 
 ciplined to technical observances, having passed 
 the vin-our of his intellect in submissive reverence 
 to rules and authorities, brings into the House of 
 Commons the same subtle propensities, and the 
 same dread of expanded investigation, and of rhe- 
 torical ornament that his professional duties im- 
 posed; but in Ireland the leading counsel were 
 also from an early age distinguished members of 
 the senate. If in the morning their horizon was 
 bounded by their briefs, in a few hours their 
 minds were free to rise, and extend it as far as 
 the statesman's eye could reach ; they had the 
 daily excitation and tumult of popular debate to 
 clear away any momentary stagnations of i'ancy 
 or enterprise; the lawyer became enlarged into
 
 94; LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the legislator, and instead of introducing into the 
 efforts of the latter the coldness and constraint of 
 his professional manner, he rather delighted to 
 carry back with him to the forum all the fervour, 
 and pomp, and copiousness of the deliberative 
 style. 
 
 The parliament of Ireland, the nurse of the 
 genius and ambition of its bar, is now extinct; 
 but the impulse that it gave is not yet spent. The 
 old have not yet forgotten the inspiration of the 
 scene, where they beheld so many accomplished 
 orators pass their most glorious hours; the young 
 cannot hear without a throb of emulation the 
 many wondrous things of that proud work of 
 their fathers, which was levelled for having tower- 
 ed too high ; nor is the general regret of the bar 
 for its fall unincreased by their possession and 
 daily admiration of two noble and still perfect 
 relics, attesting the magnificence of the structure 
 they have survived.* 
 
 Another peculiarity of the Irish bar that is now 
 passing away, but which prevailed to a great exr 
 
 * Messrs Bushe and Plunkett, two of the members of the Irish 
 House of Commons tlie most distinguished for eloquence, con- 
 tinue at the Irish bar.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 95 
 
 tent during Mr Curran's forensic career, was the 
 frequency of collisions between the bar and the 
 bench. It was often his fate to be involved in 
 them, and many are the instances of the prompt- 
 ness of repartee, and of the indignant intrepidity 
 with which, on such occasions, he defended the 
 privileges of the advocate. It will be presently 
 seen that he had scarcely appeared at the bar, 
 when he shewed how he could encounter and 
 triumph over the taunts and menaces of a hostile 
 judge. The same spirit of resistance and retalia- 
 tion will be found in his contests with Lord Clare ; 
 and at a much subsequent period, when he was 
 exerting himself in a cause with his characteristic 
 firmness, the presiding judge having called to the 
 sheriff to be ready to take into custody any one 
 who should disturb the decorum of his court: 
 " Do, Mr Sheriff^" replied Mr Curran, " go and 
 get ready my dungeon ; prepare a bed of straw 
 for me; and upon that bed I shall to-night re- 
 pose with more tranquillity than I should enjoy 
 f were I sitting upon that bench with a conscious- 
 ness that I disgraced it."* 
 
 * A celebrated periodical publication, to which, in all matters 
 of taste, nouch deference is due, observing upon this passage, 
 characterizes the advocate's feelings -as unjustifiably sensitive, and 
 
 8
 
 96 LtFfi of CURRAN. 
 
 The same political causes that have been already 
 alluded to as influencing the oratory of the Ii'ish 
 
 his language as an " incredible apostrophe." A different opinion 
 would probably have been passed upon both, had the particulars of 
 the scene been more minutely detailed. The transaction took 
 place at the Limerick assizes, towards the conclusion of a cause 
 which Mr Curran had been specially brought down to conduct. 
 It being an important case, he remained in Court till the Judge 
 had charged, and the jury retired. He then went away to join 
 his friends of the bar at dinner; but he had scarcely sat down, 
 when he received an intimation from the junior Counsel on his 
 side, whom he had left in Court, announcing, that the Judge was 
 giving a farther charge to the jury, and requesting that Mr C. 
 would hurry back without delay. Upon his return he found his 
 Lordship in communication with the jury ; but he was speaking in 
 so low a tone of voice, that, although from the particular construction 
 of the Court-house the jury could hear him, he was almost inaudi- 
 ble at the bar. Mr Curran rose to mention this, and requested to 
 know the purport of the observations his Lordship was addressing 
 to the jury. The Judge paying no attention to this request, con- 
 tinued as before. The Counsel again interfered. The Judge 
 rebuked him for the interruption ; and, as understood by those 
 present, denied that, after the jury had once retired. Counsel had 
 the right to hear any thing farther that might pass between the 
 bench and them. To this Mr C. was replying, " that a Judge was 
 not, in any stage of a cause, to hold private conversations with a 
 jury ; that it was the constitutional privilege of the parties to hear 
 distinctly every syllable addressed in the way of a charge by the 
 Court, in order that they might take legal exceptions thereto, if any
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 97 
 
 bar, will in a great measure account for these con- 
 flicts in the courts, and for that tone of sarcasm 
 and defiance assumed by the barrister on such 
 occasions. 
 
 It was one of the public calamities of the period 
 when such scenes were most frequent, that, in the 
 selection of persons to fill the judicial seat, more 
 attention was often paid to family interest and 
 political services, than to the claims of merit, or 
 the benefit of tlie community. No doubt it some- 
 times happened that this important office was be- 
 stowed upon men, to whom the appointment to 
 situations of honour and of trust was less a gift 
 than the payment of the justest debt. What dig- 
 nity could be too exalted for the learned and ac- 
 
 such could avail them ; and that this privilege would be an utter 
 nullity if a Judge could, when he pleased, so muffle his voice as to 
 be audible to none but the jury ;" when his Lordship called out to 
 the Sheriff, as related in the text. The most perfect order had pre- 
 vailed in the Court. Several gentlemen of the bar were present ; 
 and none of them doubted, any more than Mr Curran, that the 
 Judge's language and manner amounted to a threat to commit 
 him. On Uie following day the Munster bar held a meeting, and 
 passed a resolution of thanks to Mr Curran, for the spirit with 
 which he had on this occasion supported the privileges and dignity 
 of his profession. A deputation was also appointed to wait upon 
 the Judge, and deliver him a copy of the resolution. 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 Life of curran. 
 
 complished Lord Avonmore? What trust too 
 sacred for Lord Kilwarden, the most conscien- 
 tious, and pacific, and merciful of men ? But if 
 Ireland beheld such persons adorning their sta- 
 tion, she had the anguish and humiliation to see 
 others degrading it by their political fury, or by 
 the more indecent gratification of their particular 
 animosities. Influenced by such unworthy feelings 
 of party or of private hostility, the Judges in those 
 days were too prone to consider it a branch of 
 their official duty to discountenance any symptoms 
 of independence in their court ; and though at times 
 they may have succeeded, yet at others, indignant 
 and exemplary was the retaliation to which such a 
 departure from their dignity exposed them ; for it 
 was not unusual, that the persons who made these 
 experiments upon the spirit of the bar, and whose 
 politics and connexions had raised them to a place 
 of nominal superiority, were in public considera- 
 tion, and in every intellectual respect, the inferiors 
 of the men that they undertook to chide. It some- 
 times happened too that the parties, whose powers 
 might be less unequal, had been old parliamentary 
 antagonists ; and when the imputed crimes of the 
 oppositionist came to be visited upon the advocate, 
 it is not surprising that he should have retorted
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 99 
 
 with pride, acrimony, and contempt. Hence 
 arose in the Irish courts those scenes of personal 
 contention, which the different chai'acter of the 
 bench in later times precludes, and which (what- 
 ever side gain the victory) must ever be deprecated 
 ,as ruinous to the client, and disgraceful to that 
 spot, within whose precincts faction and passion 
 should never be permitted to intrude. 
 
 But though the solemnity of judicial proceed- 
 ings in Ireland might have been often disturbed 
 by the preceding causes, they have been more 
 frequently enlivened by others of a less unamiable 
 description. Notwithstanding the existence there 
 of that religious and political bigotry which tends 
 to check every cheerful impulse, and in their 
 place to substitute general distrust and gloom, 
 these baneful effects have been powerfully coun- 
 teracted by the more prevailing influence of the 
 national character. The honest, kindly affections 
 of nature, though impeded, have still kept on 
 their course. In spite of all the sufferings and 
 convulsions of the last century, the social vivacity, 
 of the Irish was proverbial. It subsisted, as it 
 still subsists, in an eminent degree in their private 
 intercourse ; it may be also seen constantly break- 
 ing forth in their public discussions. At the bar,
 
 100 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 where the occasions of jocularity so frequently 
 occur, it is, as might be expected, most strikingly 
 displayed. The Irish Judges have not disdained 
 to resign themselves to the favourite propensity of 
 their country. The humorous sally or classical 
 allusion, which would have pleased at the table, 
 has not been frowned upon from the bench : their 
 habits of social intimacy with the bar, and their 
 own tastes as scholars and companions, Ijave ra- 
 ther prepared them to tolerate and even join in 
 those lively irregularities, which the more severe 
 decorum of Westminster-Hall might condemn. 
 This urbanity and indulgence still remains ; and 
 scarcely a term passes over without many addi- 
 tions, either from the bar or the bench, to the 
 large fund of Irish forensic humour. 
 
 A more frequent and less dignified description 
 of mirth, of which so much may be observed in 
 the legal proceedings of Ireland, is that which 
 originates in the particular character of the lower 
 orders of that country. They abound in sagacity 
 and repartee; qualities to which, when appearing 
 as unwilling witnesses, or when struggling under 
 the difficulties of a cross-examination, they seldom 
 fail to fly for shelter. Their answers on such oc-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 101 
 
 casions are singularly adroit and evasive,* and the 
 advocate is consequently obliged to adopt every 
 artifice of humour and ridicule, as more effectual 
 than seriousness or menace, to extract the truth 
 and expose their equivocations. The necessity 
 of employing such methods of confounding the 
 knavish ingenuity of a witness, perpetually occa- 
 sions the most striking contrasts between the so- 
 lemnity of the subjects, and the levity of the lan- 
 guage in which they are investigated. It is par- 
 ticularly in the Irish criminal courts that scenes 
 of this complicated interest most constantly occur. 
 In the front appear the counsel and the evidence 
 engaged in a dramatic contest, at which the audi- 
 tors cannot refrain from bursts of laughtei-, and 
 at a little distance" behind, the prisoner under 
 trial, gazing upon them with agonized attention, 
 and catching at a presage of his fate in the alter- 
 nating dexterity or fortune of the combatants. 
 
 This intrusion of levity into proceedings that 
 should be marked by jiomp and dignity, may be 
 indecent, but it is inevitable. Without this lati- 
 tude of examination no right would be secure, and 
 when exerted, no gravity can resist its influence ; 
 
 • See Mr Curran's cross-examination of O'Brien inserted here- 
 after.
 
 102 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 even the felon's visase is often roused from its 
 expression of torpid dispair by the sallies that ac- 
 company the disclosure of his crimes. As long, 
 therefore, as the Irish populace retain their pre- 
 sent character of vivacity and acuteness, the Irish 
 advocate must cultivate and display his powers of 
 humour, often, perhaps, to a greater extent than 
 his better taste would desire ; and the courts, aware 
 of the necessity of such an instrument for eliciting 
 the truth, will not consider it incumbent on them 
 to interfere with its use.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 103 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mr Curran's early success at the Bar — His contest with Judge 
 Robinson — His defence of a Roman Catholic priest — His duel 
 Tvilh Mr St Leger — Receives the dying benediction of the priest 
 — Lord Avonmore's friendship — His character of Lord Avon- 
 more — Monks of St Patrick, and list of the original members- 
 Anecdotes of Lord Avonmore — Mr Curran's entrance into Par- 
 liament. 
 
 Mr Curran has been often alluded to as one 
 of the many examples in the history of the bar, of 
 the highest talents remaining for a long time un- 
 known and unrewarded. This, however, was not 
 the fact : so general was the reputation of his abi- 
 lities, and so numerous his personal friends, that 
 he became employed immediately, and to an ex- 
 tent that is very unusual with those who, like him, 
 have solely depended upon their own exertions, 
 and upon accidental support.* 
 
 • The fact of his early practice appears from his fee-book, in 
 which the receipts commence from the day after he was called 
 to the bar. The first year produced eighty-two guineas, the se- 
 cond between one and two hundred, and so on in a regularly in- 
 creasing proportion.
 
 104j life or curran. 
 
 The failure of his fust attempt at speaking 
 has been mentioned : a more singular instance 
 of that nervousness which so frequently accom- 
 panies the highest capacity, occurred to him upon 
 his debut in the courts. The first brief that he 
 held was in the Court of Chancery ; he had only 
 to read a short sentence from his instructions, 
 but he did it so precipitately and inaudibly, that 
 the chancellor. Lord LifFord, requested of him 
 to repeat the words, and to raise his voice : upon 
 this, his agitation became extreme ; he was unable 
 to articulate a syllable; the brief drojpjped from his 
 hands, and a friend who sat beside him was oblig- 
 ed to take it up, and read the necessary passage. 
 
 This diffidence, however, totally vanished when- 
 ever he had to repel what he conceived an unwar- 
 rantable attack. It was by giving proofs of the 
 proud and indignant spirit with which he could 
 chastise aggression, that he first distinguished him- 
 self at the bar :* of this his contest with Judge 
 
 * His first occasion of displaying that high spirit which was 
 afterwards so prominent in his character, was at the election of 
 Tallagh, where he was engaged as counsel, a few months after his 
 admission to the bar. One of tlie candidates, presuming upon his 
 own rank, and upon the young advocate's unostentatious appear-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 105 
 
 Robinson is recorded as a very early and memo- 
 rable instance. Mr Curran having observed in 
 some case before that Judge, " That he had never 
 met the law as laid down by his lordship in any 
 book in his library," — " That may be, sir," said the 
 Judge, in an acrid, contemptuous tone ; " but I 
 suspect that your library is very small." His lord- 
 ship, who, like too many of that time, was a party 
 zealot, was known to be the author of several ano- 
 nymous political pamphlets, which were chiefly 
 conspicuous for their despotic principles and ex- 
 cessive violence. The young barrister, roused by 
 the sneer at his circumstances, replied, that true 
 it was that his library might be small, but he 
 thanked Heaven, that among his books there were 
 none of the wretched productions of the frantic 
 pamphleteers of the day. " I find it more instruc- 
 tive, my lord, to study good works than to com- 
 pose bad ones ; my books may be few, but the 
 title-pages give me the writers' names : my shelf 
 is not disgraced by any of such rank absurdity, 
 that their very authors are ashamed to own them." 
 
 ancc, indulged in some rude language towards him ; but was in- 
 stantly silenced by a burst of impetuous and eloquent invective, 
 which at that time required an in!^ult to awaken.
 
 106 LIFE OF CUBRAN. 
 
 He was here interrupted by the Judge, who 
 said, " Sir, you are forgetting the respect which 
 you owe to the dignity of the judicial character." 
 " Dignity !" exclaimed Mr Curran ; " my lord, 
 upon that point I shall cite you a case from a book 
 of some authority, with which you are perhaps not 
 unacquainted. A poor Scotchman,* upon his 
 arrival in London, thinking himself insulted by a 
 stranger, and imagining that he was the stronger 
 man, resolved to resent the affront, and taking off 
 his coat, delivered it to a bystander to hold; but 
 havina lost the battle, he turned to resume his 
 garment, when he discovered that he had unfor- 
 tunately lost that also ; that the trustee of his habi- 
 liments had decamped during the affray. So, my 
 lord, when the person, who is invested with the 
 dignity of the judgment-seat, lays it aside for a 
 .moment, to enter into a disgraceful personal con- 
 test, it is vain, when he has been worsted in the 
 encounter, that he seeks to resume it — it is in vain 
 that he endeavours to shelter himself behind an 
 •authority which he has abandoned." 
 
 * Perhaps it is unnecessary to remind most readers, that the 
 Scotchman alluded to is Strap, in Smollett's Roderick Random.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 107 
 
 Judge Robinson. — " If you say another word, 
 sir, I'll commit you." 
 
 Mr Curran. — » If your lordship should do 
 so, we shall, both of us, have the consolation of 
 reflecting, that I am not the worst thing your 
 Lordship has committed." 
 
 The Judsfe did not commit him ; but he was 
 understood to have solicited the bench to interfere, 
 and make an example of the advocate, by depriving 
 him of his gown, and to have received so little en- 
 couragement, that he thought it prudent to pro- 
 ceed no further in the aiFair. 
 
 From this, and many other specimens of spirit 
 and ability, Mr Curran's reputation rapidly in- 
 creased ; but it was not till he had been four or 
 five years at the bar that his powers as an advo- 
 cate became fully known. His first opportunity 
 of displaying them was in a cause at the Cork 
 assizes, in which a Roman catholic priest, the 
 Rev. Mr Neale, brought an action against a no- 
 bleman of that county (Lord Doneraile), for an 
 assault and battery. 
 
 The circumstances attending this case mark the. 
 melancholy condition of the times. They aflbrd 
 a single, but a very striking example of those 
 scenes of local despotism and individual suffering,
 
 108 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 of which, at this degraded period, Ireland was 
 daily the witness and the victim. 
 
 The nobleman in question had contracted an 
 intimacy with a young woman, whose family re- 
 sided in the parish of which the plaintiff in this 
 action was the priest. This woman's brother hav- 
 ing committed some offence asrainst religion, for 
 which the Roman catholic bishop of the diocese 
 had directed that the censures of the church should 
 be passed upon him, she solicited Lord Doneraile 
 to interfere, and to exert his influence and autho- 
 rity for the remission of the offender's sentence. 
 His lordship, without hesitation, undertook to 
 interpose his authority. For this purpose he pro- 
 ceeded, accompanied by one of his relatives, to 
 the house, or rather the cabin, of the priest. As 
 soon as he arrived there, disdaining to dismount 
 from his horse, he called, in a loud and imperious 
 tone, upon the inhabitant to come forth. The 
 latter happened at that moment to be in the act 
 of prayer ; but hearing a voice, which it would 
 have been perilous to disregard, he discontinued 
 his devotions to attend upon the peer. The mi- 
 nister of religion appeared before him (an affecting 
 spectacle, to a feeling mind, of infirmity and hu- 
 mility), bending under years, his head uncovered.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 109 
 
 and holding in his hand the book, which was now 
 his only source of hope and consolation. His 
 lordship ordered him to take off the sentence 
 lately passed upon his favourite's brother. The 
 priest, struggling between his temporal fears and 
 the solemn obligations of his church, could only 
 reply, with respect and humbleness, " that he 
 would gladly comply with any injunction of his 
 lordship, but that to do so in the present in- 
 stance was beyond his power ; that he was only 
 a parish priest, and, as such, had no authority to 
 remit an ecclesiastical penalty imposed by his su- 
 perior ; that the bishop alone could do it." To a 
 second and more angry mandate, a similar answer 
 was returned ; upon which the nobleman, forget- 
 ting what he owed to his own dignity, and the 
 pity and forbearance due to age, and the reverence 
 due to religion, raised his hand against the unof- 
 fending old man, who could only escape the blows 
 directed against his person by tottering back into 
 his habitation, and securing its door against his 
 merciless assailant. 
 
 For this disgraceful outrage, to which the suf- 
 ferer was exposed, because he would not violate 
 the sanctity of his character and the ordinances of 
 his church, for the gratification of a profligate
 
 110 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 woman who chanced to be the mistress of a peer, 
 he for some time despaired of obtaining redress. 
 So great was the provincial power of this noble- 
 man, and such the political degradation of the 
 Roman catholic clergy, that the injured priest 
 found a difficulty in procuring an advocate to 
 plead his cause. At length, several to whom he 
 applied having (according to general report) de- 
 clined to be concerned for so unpopular a client,* 
 Mr Curran, justly conceiving that it would be a 
 stain upon his profession if such scenes of lawless 
 violence were allowed to pass without investigation, 
 took a step which many considered as most roman- 
 tic and imprudent, and only calculated to baffle 
 all his prospects upon his circuit; he tendered his 
 services to the unfriended plaintiff, and, the un- 
 expected offer being gratefully accepted, laid the 
 story of his unmerited wrongs before a jury of his 
 country. 
 
 * In 1735, a catholic nobleman (Lord Clancarty) brought an 
 ejectment to recover his family estates that had been confiscated, 
 but by a resolution of the Irish House of Commons, all barristers, 
 solicitors, attorneys, or proctors, that should be concerned for him, 
 were voted public enemies (O'Connor's Hist, of the Irish Catholics, 
 p. 218.) ; and in Ireland the prejudices, which had dictated so ini- 
 quitous a measure, were not extinct in 1780.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. Ill 
 
 No printed report of this trial has been pre- 
 served, but all the accounts of it agree that the 
 plaintiff's counsel acquitted himself with eminent 
 ability. And it is only by adverting to the state 
 of those times, that we can appreciate the ability 
 that could obtain success. This was not, as an 
 ordinary case, between man and man, where each 
 may be certain of an equitable hearing. The ad- 
 vocate had to address a class of men who were full of 
 furious and inveterate prejudices against his client. 
 The very appearance of a Roman catholic clergy- 
 man, obtruding his wrongs upon a court of justice, 
 was regarded as a presumptuous novelty. To the 
 minds of the bigoted jurors of that day, his de- 
 mand of redress was an act of rebellion against 
 the protestant ascendancy — a daring effort to re- 
 store a deposed religion to its throne. The cause 
 had also, from the characters of the parties, ex- 
 cited the greatest public interest, and the sympathy 
 of the public, as is always the case where no epi- 
 demic passions intervene, was upon the side of the 
 oppressed ; but the general expression of such a 
 feeling was rather detrimental to its object. The 
 crowds that filled, and surrounded the court upon 
 the day of trial, v.'ere Roman catholics, and were 
 supposed, by a very obvious construction, to have
 
 112 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 assembled not so much to witness a triumph 
 of justice, as to share in a triumph of their 
 religion. Upon such an occasion, the advo- 
 cate had not merely to state the facts, and apply 
 the law ; before he could convince or persuade, 
 he had to pacify — to allure his hearers into a pa- 
 tient attention, and into a reversal of the hostile 
 verdict, which, before they were sworn, they had 
 tacitly pronounced. These were the difficulties 
 against which Mr Curran had to contend, and 
 which he overcame. The jury granted a verdict 
 to his client, with thirty guineas damages. So 
 small a sum would now be deemed a very paltry 
 remuneration for such an injury ; but in Ireland, 
 about forty years ago, to have wrung even so 
 much from a protestant jury, in favour of a ca- 
 tholic priest, against a protestant nobleman, was 
 held to be such a triumph of forensic eloquence, 
 and to be in itself so extraordinary a circumstance, 
 that the verdict was received by the people at large 
 as an important political event.* 
 
 In a part of his address to the jury in this case, 
 the plaintiiF's counsel animadverted, with the ut- 
 
 • In one of O'Leary's tracts dedicated to the " Monks of the 
 Screw," a particular allusion is made to JNIr Curran's eloquence 
 and conduct on this trial.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. IIS 
 
 most severity of invective, upon the unworthy 
 conduct of the defendant's relative (Mr St Leger), 
 who had been present, and countenancing the 
 outrage upon the priest. At length, his zeal and 
 indignation hurrying him beyond his instructions, 
 he proceeded to describe that gentleman (who 
 had lately left a regiment that had been ordered 
 on actual service), as " a renegado soldier, a 
 drummed-out dragoon, who wanted the courage 
 to meet the enemies of his country in battle, but 
 had the heroism to redeem the io-nominv of his 
 flight from danger, by raising his arm against an 
 aged and unoffending minister of religion, who 
 had just risen from putting up before the throne 
 of God a prayer of general intercession, in which 
 his heartless insulter was included." 
 
 As soon as the trial was over, he was summon- 
 ed to make a public apology for those expressions, 
 or to meet Mr St Leger in the field.* He was 
 
 • There was another circumstance during this trial, .which had 
 given equal ofTencc, and which, whatever judgment may be passed 
 upon it now, was well calculated to influence the juty. Mr Curran 
 knew that Mr St Leger was to be produced as one of the defend- 
 ant's witnesses, and it was in order to diminish the weight of his 
 testimony, that he had described him as above. He had however 
 mentioned no name, but merely apprised the jury, that such a cha- 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 114 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 fully sensible that his language had not been 
 strictly warrantable, and that a barrister had no 
 right to take shelter under his gown from the re- 
 sentment of those, whose feelings and character 
 he might have unjustifiably attacked ; but per- 
 ceiving that an apology would, in the eyes of his 
 countrymen, have tarnished the lustre of his re- 
 cent victory, and that it might have the effect of 
 inviting future challenges whenever he should 
 perform his duty with the necessary boldness, he 
 deemed it more eligible to risk his life than his 
 
 racter might be brought to impose upon them. When Mr St 
 Leger came upon the table,* and took the testament in his hand, 
 the plaintiff's counsel, in a tone of affected respect, addressed him, 
 saying, " Oh, Mr St Leger, the jury will, I am sure, believe yoa 
 without the ceremony of swearing you ; you are a man of honour, 
 and of high moral principle ; your character will justify us from 
 insisting on your oath." The witness, deceived by this mild and 
 complimentary language, replied with mingled surprise and irrita- 
 tion, " I am happy, sir, to see you have changed the opinion you 
 entertained of me when you were describing me a while ago." 
 " What, sir! then you confess it was a description of yourself! 
 Gentlemen, act as you please, but I leave it to you to say, whether 
 a thousand oalhs could bind the conscience of such a man as I 
 have just described." 
 
 * It may be requisite to inform the English reader, that in the Irish courts 
 there is no box for the witnesses ; they are examined upon the table that stand* 
 on the floor of the court, between the bar and the bench.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 115 
 
 reputation. A duel accordingly followed ; upon 
 which occasion, Mr Curran not only established 
 for himself a character for personal intrepidity (an 
 acquisition of no small moment in a country where 
 the point of honour has always been so sacredly 
 observed), but afforded infinite entertainment to 
 the by-standers, by a series of those sportive sal- 
 lies, which, when the impulse was on him, no 
 time or place could repress.* He declined re- 
 turning Mr St Lcgcr's fire; so that the affair^ 
 after a single shot, was terminated. 
 
 A more solemn and interestina; scene soon fol- ' 
 lowed. The poor priest was shortly after called 
 away to another world. When he found that the 
 hour of death was at hand, he earnestly requested 
 that his counsel, to whom he had something of 
 importance to communicate, might be brought 
 into his presence. Mr Curran complied, and was 
 
 * When each had taken his ground, Mr St Lcger called out to 
 his adversary to fire : " No, sir," replied he, " I am here by your 
 invitation, and you must open the ball." 
 
 A little after, Mr (Curran, observing the other's pistol to be aim- 
 ed wide of its mark, called out in a loud voice, " Fire !" St Lcger, 
 who was a nervous man, started, and fired. He died not long 
 after, and was reputed in Munster to have been '• killed by the 
 report of his own pistol."
 
 116 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 conducted to the bed-side of his expiring client. 
 The humble servant of God had neither gold nor 
 silver to bestow ; but what he had, and what with 
 him was above all price, he gave, — the blessing 
 of a dying Christian upon him who had employed 
 his talents, and risked his life, in redressing the , 
 wrongs of the minister of a proscribed religion. 
 He caused himself to be raised for the last time 
 from his pillow, and, placing his hands on the 
 head of his young advocate, pronounced over him 
 the formal benediction of the Roman catholic 
 church, as the reward of his eloquence and intre- 
 pidity. Mr Curran had also the satisfaction of 
 being assured by the lower orders of his country- 
 men, that he might 7zotcj fight as many duels as he 
 pleased, without apprehending any danger to his 
 person ; an assurance, which subsequently became 
 a prophecy, as far as the event could render it 
 one. 
 
 Shortly after this trial, the successful orator was 
 given to understand, that his late triumph should 
 cost him dear. As he was standing amidst a 
 circle of his friends in one of the public streets of 
 Cork, he v/as called aside by a person who brought 
 him an intimation from Lord Doneraile, that in 
 consequence of his late unprecedented conduct,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 117 
 
 he might expect nevei' to be employed in future 
 in any cause, where his lordship, or his extensive 
 connexions, should have the power to exclude him. 
 The young barrister answered with contemptuous 
 playfulness, and in a voice to be overheard by 
 every one ; " My good sir, you may tell his lord- 
 ship, that it is in vain for him to be proposing 
 terms of accommodation ; for after what has hap- 
 pened, I protest I think, while I live, I shall never 
 hold a brief for him or one of his family." The 
 introduction of these particulars may almost de- 
 mand an apology ; yet it is often by little things 
 that the characters of times and individuals are 
 best displayed, as (according to an eminent English 
 writer) " throwing up little straws best shews which 
 way the wind lies." 
 
 Previous to this trial, Mr Curran's fame and 
 practice had been unusual for his standing ; but 
 after his display of eloquence and conduct upon 
 this occasion, they increased with unprecedented 
 rapidity. It was probably too with this event that 
 originated his great popularity among the lower 
 orders of the Irish, a feeling which a little time 
 matured into an unbounded venei'ation for his 
 capacity, combined with a most devoted attach- 
 ment to his person. Their enthusiasm in this
 
 118 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 
 
 instance can be scarcely conceived by such as have 
 only witnessed the common mai'ks of respect paid 
 to ordinary favourites of the people. So much of 
 his life, and so many of its proudest moments 
 were passed in their presence, in the courts of 
 Dublin, and on the circuit towns ; his manners 
 were so unaffectedly familiar and accessible, his 
 ■ genius and habits were so purely national, that the 
 humblest of his countrymen, forgetting the differ- 
 ence of rank in their many common sympathies, 
 fondly considered him as one of themselves, and 
 cherished his reputation not more as a debt of 
 gratitude to him, than as a kind of peculiar tri- 
 umph of their own. These sentiments, which he 
 never descended to any artifices to cultivate, con- 
 tinued unimpaired to his death, and will probably 
 survive him many years. 
 
 In relating the steps by which Mr Curran ad- 
 vanced to professional distinction, it would be an 
 injustice to omit the support which he found in the 
 friendship of the late learned and respected Lord 
 Avonmore, then Mr Yelverton, a leading counsel at 
 the Irish bar. This excellent and rarely gifted man 
 hadhimself risen from an humble station, and know- 
 ing, by experience, " how hard it is to climb,'* 
 was ever most prompt in encouraging and assist-
 
 LIFE OF CURUAN. 119 
 
 ing those whom he saw imitating his own honour- 
 able example. His friendship for Mr Curran 
 commenced in 1775, (through the father-in-law of 
 the latter, Dr Creagh, between whom and Mr 
 Yelverton an old and tender intimacy had subsist- 
 ed), and, with the exception of a few intervals of 
 temporary alienation from political differences, 
 continued unimpaired to his death. 
 
 In one of Mr Curran's latest efforts at the bar,* 
 we find him fondly turning aside for a moment to 
 indulge his respect for the Judge and the scholar, 
 and his gratitude to the friend of his younger 
 years. The following is the character that he has 
 drawn of Lord Avonmore. To strangers it may 
 appear overwrought, but those who were familiar 
 with the simple, antique grandeur of mind that 
 dignified the original, recognize the fidelity of the 
 likeness. 
 
 " I am not ignorant that this extraordinary 
 construction has received the sanction of another 
 court, nor of the surprise and dismay with which 
 it smote upon the general heart of the bar. I am 
 aware that I may have the mortification of being 
 
 * Speech in llie case of Mr Justice Johnson, in the Court of 
 Exchequer, where Lord Avonmore presided.
 
 120 LIFE OF CURRAN* 
 
 told in another country of that unhappy decision, 
 and I foresee in what confusion 1 shall hang down 
 my head when I anx told it. But I cherish, too, 
 the consolatory hope, that I shall be able to tell 
 them, that I had an old and learned friend, whom 
 I would put above all the sweepings of their Hall, 
 who was of a different opinion — who had derived 
 his ideas of civil liberty from the purest fountains 
 of Athens and of Rome — who had fed the youth- 
 ful vigour of his studious mind with the theoretic 
 knowledge of their wisest philosophers and states- 
 men — and who had refined that theorj^ into the 
 quick and exquisite sensibility of moral instinct, 
 by contemplating the practice of their most illus- 
 trious examples — by dwelling on the sweet-souled 
 piety of Cimon — on the anticipated Christianity of 
 Socrates — on the gallant and pathetic patriotism 
 of Epaminondas — on that pure austerity of Fabri- 
 cius, whom to move from his integrity would have 
 been more difficult than to have pushed the sun 
 from his course. 1 vv'ould add, that if he had 
 seemed to hesitate, it was but for a moment — that 
 his hesitation was like the passing cloud that floats 
 across the morning sun, and hides it from the 
 view, and does so for a moment hide it, by involv-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 121 
 
 lug the spectator without even approaching the 
 face of the luminary." 
 
 Lord Avonmore was the person under whose 
 auspices was formed, in the year 1779, a patriotic 
 and convivial society, " The Monks of the Order 
 of St Patrick,"* which was in those days suffi- 
 
 * Of this society, so interesting as connected with the most 
 splendid era of Ireland's history, Mr Hudson has kindly supplied 
 the following notice and list of the original members. — 
 
 " This celebrated society was partly political and partly convi- 
 vial ; it consisted of two parts, professed, and lay brothers. As the 
 latter had no privileges, except that of commons in the refectory, 
 they are unnoticed here. 
 
 " The professed (by the constitution) consisted of members of 
 either house of parliament, and barristers, with the addition from 
 the other learned professions of any number not exceeding one- 
 third of the whole. They assembled every Saturday in Convent, 
 during term-time ; and commonly held a chapter before commons, 
 at whicli the abbot presided, or in his (very rare) absence, the 
 prior, or senior of the officers present. Upon such occasions, all 
 the members appeared in the habit of the order, a black tabinet 
 domino. Temperance and sobriety always prevailed. A short 
 Latin grace, ' Benedictus benedicat,' and ' Eenedicto benedica- 
 tur,' • was regularly and gravely pronounced by the praecentor or 
 chaplain, before and after commons. 
 
 " It will be seen by the following list, that there were many 
 learned men and men of genius in their number, and I may ven- 
 
 * Since adopted as the grace of the King's Inns Society, in Dublin.
 
 122 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 ciently celebrated, and composed of men such as 
 Ireland could not easily assemble now. It was a 
 
 ture to say, that few productions (either in pamphlets or periodical 
 publications*) of any celebrity, during the arduous struggle for 
 Irish emancipation, appeared, which did not proceed from the pen 
 of one of the brethren. Nor did they forego their labours, till by 
 their prayers and exertions they attained emancipation for their 
 country. The sad change which has taken place since their dis- 
 persion need not be related. 
 
 THE 
 MONKS OF THE ORDER OF ST PATRICK, 
 
 COMMONLT CALLED 
 
 THE MONKS OF THE SCREW. 
 
 Assembled at their Convent in St Kevin-street, Dublin, on and after 
 September the 3d, 1779. 
 
 members' names. 
 
 1. Founder. Barry Yelverton, Barrister, M. P. since Lord 
 Viscount Avonmore, Lord Chief Baron. 
 
 2. Abbot, William Doyle, Barrister, Master in Chancery. 
 
 S. Prior. John Philpot Curran, Barrister, since M. P. Privy 
 Counsellor, and Master of the Rolls. 
 
 4. PrcBccntor. Rev. Wm. Day, S. F. T. C. D. 
 
 5. Bursar. Edward Hudson, M. D.f 
 
 * The principal of these were the " Letters of Guatimozin," written by Dr 
 JebtT; and the " Letters of Juridicus," attributed to a surviving member of 
 Uie society. 
 
 f Surviving.
 
 LIFE or CURRAN. 123 
 
 collection of the wit, the genius, and public virtue 
 of the country: and though the name of the so- 
 
 6. Sacristan. Robt. Johnson, Barr. M. P. and since a Judge,* 
 
 7. Arran, the Earl of. 
 
 8. Barry, James, (painter), elected an honorary member, never 
 joined. 
 
 9. Brown, Arthur, Barr. M. P. and F. T. C. D. 
 
 10. Burgh, Walter Ilussey, Barr. Rt. Hon. and M. P. and since 
 Chief Baron, 
 
 1 1 . Burston, Beresford, Barr. and K. C* 
 
 12. Carhampton, Earl of. 
 
 15. Caldbeck, William, Barr. and K. C. 
 
 14. Chamberlayne, W. Tankerville, Barr. M. P. and since a 
 Judge. 
 
 1 5. Charlemont, Earl of. 
 
 16. Corry, Rt. Hon. Isaac, M. P. and since Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer. 
 
 17. Daly, Rt. Hon. Dennis, M. P. 
 
 1 S. Day, Robert, Barr. M. P. and since a Judge. * 
 
 19. Dobbs, Robert, Barr. 
 
 20. Doyle, John, M. P. and since a General in the army, and 
 Bart* 
 
 21. Dunkin, James, Barr. 
 
 22. Duquery, Henry, Barr. and M. P. 
 
 23. Emmet, Temple, Barr. 
 
 24. I'inucane, Matthew, Barr. and since a Judge. 
 
 25. Fitton, Richard, Barr. 
 
 26. Forbes, Jolin, Barr. M. P. 
 
 * Surviving.
 
 124f LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 ciety itself is not embodied in any of the national 
 records, the names of many of its members are to 
 
 27. Frankland, Richard, Barr. and K. C. 
 
 28. Grattan, Rt. Hon. Henry, Barr. and M. P. 
 
 29. Hacket, Thomas, Barr. 
 
 30. Hardy, Francis, Barr. and M. P. (Lord Charlemont's bio- 
 grapher). 
 
 3L Harstonge, Sir Henry, Bart, and M. P. 
 
 32. Herbert, Richard, Barr. and M. P. 
 
 33. Hunt, John, Barr. 
 
 34. Hussey, Dudley, Barr. M. P. and recorder of Dublin. 
 
 35. Jebb, Frederic, M. D. 
 
 36. Kingsborougli, Lord Viscount, M. P. 
 
 37. Mocawen, ^^——^ Barr. 
 
 38. Martin, Ricliard, Barr. and M. P.* 
 
 39. Melge, Peter, Barr. M. P. and since a Judge. 
 
 40. Mornington, Earl of. 
 
 41. Muloch, Thomas, Barr. 
 
 42. Newenham, Sir Edward, M. P. 
 
 43. Ogle, Rt. Hon. George, M. P. 
 
 44. O'Leary, Rev. Arthur, honorary. 
 
 45. O'Neil, Charles, Barr. K. C. and M. P. 
 4G. Palliser, the Rev. Doctor, Chaplain. 
 
 47. Pollock, Joseph, Barr. 
 
 48. Ponsonby, Rt. Hon. George, Barr. M, P. and since Chan- 
 cellor of Ireland. 
 
 49. Preston, William, Barr. 
 
 50. Ross, Lieut. Col. M. P. 
 
 * Surviving.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 125 
 
 be found in every page, and will be remembered, 
 while Ireland has a memory, with gratitude and 
 
 51. Sheridan, Charles Francis, Barr. M. P. and Secretary at 
 War. 
 
 52. Smith, Sir Michael, Bart. Barr. M. P. and since Master of 
 the Rolls. 
 
 53. Stawel, AVilliam, Barr. 
 
 54. Stack, Rev. Richard, F.T.C.D. 
 
 55. Townshend, Marquis of.* 
 
 56. Woolfe, Arthur, Barr. M. P. and since Lord Viscount Kil- 
 warden. Chief Justice King's-Bench, 
 
 The society dwindled away towards the end of the year 1795." 
 
 Shortly after the formation of this club, Mr Curran, having been 
 one evening called upon for a song, gave one of his own composi- 
 tion, which was immediately adopted as the charter song of the 
 order. The following are all the verses of it that have been recol- 
 lected : 
 
 When St Patrick this order established. 
 
 He called us the " Monks of the Screw ;" 
 Good rules he revealed to our Abbot 
 
 To guide us in what we should do. 
 But first he replenished our fountain 
 
 With liquor, the best in the sky ; 
 And he swore, on the word of a saint. 
 
 That the fountain should never run dry. 
 
 « Elected, professed, and joined on his visit to Dublin, after his viceroyalty.
 
 126 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 pride. The primary object of tlieir association 
 was to give her a constitution, and to nourish 
 
 Each year, when your octaves approach, 
 
 In full chapter convened let me find you ; 
 And, when to the Convent you come, 
 
 Leave your fav'rite temptation behind you. 
 And be not a glass in your Convent, 
 
 Unless on a festival, found ; 
 And, this rule to enforce, I ordain it 
 
 One festival all the year round. 
 
 My brethren, be chaste, till you're tempted ; 
 
 Whilst sober, be grave and discreet ; 
 And humble your bodies with fasting, , 
 
 As oft as you've nothing to eat. >» 
 
 Yet, in honour of fasting, one lean fai'C 
 
 Among you I'll always require ; 
 If he pleases, the Abbot may wear it. 
 
 If not, let it come to the Prior. * 
 
 * « « » « 
 
 Come, let each take his chalice, my brethren, 
 
 And with due devotion prepare, 
 With hands and with voices uplifted 
 
 Our hymn to conclude with a prayer. 
 May this chapter oft joyously meet. 
 
 And this gladsome libation renew, 
 To the Saint, and the Founder, and Abbot, 
 
 And Prior, and Monks of the Screw ! 
 
 * Mr Doyle, the Abbot, had a remarkably large full face ; Mr Ciirran's w«9 
 the very reverse.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 12T 
 
 and diffuse among her people the spirit and intel- 
 ligence which should render them worthy of the 
 gift; and when the day arrived, as it shortly did, 
 when the rights to which they aspired were not 
 to be gained without a struggle, the leading mem- 
 bers of the " Order of St Patrick" may be seen 
 conspicuous in the post of honour and of danger, 
 Mr Curran always bore a distinguished part in 
 their meetings: it was to them, and to the many 
 happy and instructive hours he had passed there, 
 that he pathetically alluded in the burst of social 
 enthusiasm which immediately follows the passage 
 above cited : " And this soothing hope I draw 
 from the dearest and tenderest recollections of my 
 life — from the remembrance of those attic nights, 
 and those refections of the gods, which we have 
 spent with those admired, and respected, and be- 
 loved companions, who have gone before us; over 
 whose ashes the most precious tears of Ireland have 
 been shed. [Here Lord Avonmore could not re- 
 frain from bursting into tears.] Yes, my good Lord, 
 I see you do not forget them. J see their sacred 
 forms passing in sad review before your memory. I 
 see your pained and softened fancy recalling those 
 happy meetings, where the innocent enjoyment of
 
 128 LIFE or CURRAN. 
 
 social mirth became expanded into the nobler 
 warmth of social virtue, and the horizon of the 
 board became enlarged into the horizon of man — 
 where the swelling heart conceived and communi- 
 cated the pure and generous purpose — where my 
 slenderer and younger taper imbibed its borrow- 
 ed light from the more matured and redundant 
 fountain of yours. Yes, my Lord, we can remem- 
 ber those nights without any other regret than 
 that they can never more return, for 
 
 " We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine, 
 But search of deep philosophy, 
 Wit, eloquence, and poesy. 
 Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine."* 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 • Lord Avonmore, in whose breast political resentment was easily 
 subdued by the same noble tenderness of feeling which distinguish- 
 ed the late Mr Fox upon a more celebrated occasion, could not 
 withstand this appeal to his heart. At this period (1804) there 
 was a suspension of intercourse between him and !Mr Curran ; but 
 the moment the court rose, his lordship sent for his friend, and 
 threw himself into his arms, declaring that unworthy artifices had 
 been used to separate itiem, and that they should never succeed in 
 future. 
 
 The passage of Mr Curran's speech, above cited, has been 
 condemned in various quarters, as introducing topics utterly inap- 
 propriate to the matter in discussion, which is represented to have
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 129 
 
 Lord Avonmore was one of those men in whom 
 a rare intellect and vast acquirements are found 
 
 been a mere point of law. It would be impossible to comprise 
 within the limits of a note all the peculiarities of Mr Justice John- 
 son's case. For the present purpose, it may be sufficient to observe, 
 that tlie main question before the Court was, whether, by the con- 
 struction of a particulai- act of Parliament, Mr Johnson could be 
 legally apprehended and transported to another kingdom, there 
 to stand his trial, for an alleged misdemeanor, before a tribunal, 
 which had not the power to compel the attendance of a single wit- 
 ness from Ireland in his behalf. The reader will perceive at a 
 glance, that here, along with the legal point, there was involved a 
 most important question of constitution — and the great object of 
 Mr Johnson's counsel was to induce the Court to rise above the 
 rules of technical interpretation, and to give his client all the bene- 
 fit that a constitutional construction could afford him. One of the 
 Judges, Mr Baron Smith, (it was previously understood), intended to 
 view the question in this liberal spirit— and if Lord Avonmore 
 (the chief of the Court) could have been awakened to a similar ex- 
 ertion of judicial courage, the prosecutors would have been de- 
 feated. Lord Avonmore was a man of acute sensibility — an ac- 
 complished classical scholar — a fervent admirer of the characters of 
 antiquity ; during the best part of his life, he had thought and 
 acted upon popular principles. In his latter years he was timid — 
 but Mr Curran could remember, and remind him of the time, when 
 he was a stranger to fear in the cause of freedom. When all these 
 circumstances are considered, the advocate's personal appeal to him 
 (however a correct taste may disapprove of some of the images), 
 cannot fairly be pronounced to have been beside the subject, or 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 united with the most artless unsuspecting inno- 
 ccncy of nature. Whatever the person in whom 
 he confided asserted, he considered to be as un- 
 doubted as if he had uttered it himself. His 
 younger friend, aware of this amiable imperfection, 
 used often to trifle with it, and, in moments of 
 playful relaxation, to practise harmless impositions 
 upon his lordship's credulity. His ordinary arti- 
 fice was to touch his sensibility, and thus excite 
 his attention by relating in his presence some af- 
 
 unskilful in the selection of topics. Upon the latter point Lord 
 Avonmore, at least, said otherwise. He prefaced his judgment by 
 observing, — " very little remains to be said by him who comes last 
 —and to say any thing at all requires no small degree of strength 
 of mind ; for before I can apply myself to the subject, I must dis- 
 engage myself from the effects of that fascinating eloquence which 
 still vibrates upon my ear — has touched, and still acts upon the 
 finest feelings of my heart, and which has renewed some of the 
 pleasantest recollections of my life." 
 
 So Mr Baron Smith, who could be no stranger to the secret his- 
 tory of this trial : — " If on the present occasion I support the con- 
 stitution with becoming warmtli, it may be that I yet retain the ex- 
 citation of a speech, which did honour even to the eloquence of 
 Mr Curran, and gave additional lustre to the importance, however 
 trauscendant, of the present subject — a speech, which those would 
 be worse than bad critics, who could mistake for merely brilliant 
 declamation."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 131 
 
 fecting incident, and then, pretending to be un- 
 conscious that his lordship was listening, to pro- 
 ceed with a detail of many strange and improbable 
 particulars, until he should be interrupted, as he 
 regularly was, by the good Judge's exclaiming, 
 " Gracious Heaven ! sir, is it possible? I have 
 overheard all those most truly amazing circum- 
 stances, which I could never have believed, if 
 they did not come from such good authority." 
 His lordship at length discovered the deception, 
 and passing into the opposite extreme, became 
 (often ludicrously) wary and incredulous as to 
 every thing that Mr Curran stated. Still, how- 
 ever, the latter persisted, and, quickening his 
 invention as the difficulties increased, continued 
 from year to year to gain many a humorous tri- 
 umph over all the defensive caution of his friend. 
 Even upon the bench Lord Avonmore evinced 
 the same superstitious apprehension of the advo- 
 cate's ingenuity, whom he would frequently inter- 
 rupt, sometimes in a tone of endearment, some- 
 times of impatience, saying, " Mr Curran, I know 
 your cleverness ; but it's quite in vain for you to 
 go on. I see the drift of it all, and you are only 
 giving yourself and me unnecessary trouble." 
 Upon one of these occasions, the Judge having
 
 132 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 frequently interposed to prevent the counsel's put- 
 ting forward some topic that was really relative 
 and necessary to his case, declaring, as often as it 
 was attempted, that the tendency of his argument 
 was quite obvious, and that he was totally straying 
 from the question, Mr Curran addressed him thus: 
 " Perhaps, my lord, I am straying ; but you must 
 impute it to the extreme agitation of my mind. I 
 have just witnessed so dreadful a circumstance, 
 that my imagination has not yet recovered from 
 the shock." His lordship was now all attention. — 
 " On my way to court, my lord, as I passed by 
 one of the markets, I observed a butcher proceed- 
 ing to slaughter a calf. Just as his hand was 
 raised, a lovely little child approached him un- 
 perceived, and, terrible to relate — 1 still see the 
 life-blood gushing out — the poor child's bosom 
 was under his hand, when he plunged his knife 
 
 into — into" " Into the bosom of the child 1" 
 
 cried out the Judge, with much emotion — " Into 
 the neck of the calf my lord ; but your lordship 
 sometimes anticipates." 
 
 There are no reports of Mr Curran's early 
 speeches at the bar ; but the celerity of his ascent 
 to distinction in his profession, and in the public 
 estimation, may be inferred from the date of his
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 133 
 
 entrance into parliament. He had been only 
 seven years at the bar, when Mr Longfield (after- 
 wards Lord Longueville) had him returned for a 
 borough in his disposal.* At this time boroughs 
 wsre the subject of notorious traffic, and it seldom 
 happened that the members returned for them did 
 not bind themselves to remunerate the patrons in 
 money or in services. There was no such stipu- 
 lation in the present instance : the seat was given 
 to Mr Curran upon the express condition of per- 
 fect freedom on his part ; but having soon differ- 
 ed from Mr Longfield on political subjects, and 
 there being then no way of vacating, he insisted 
 upon purchasing a seat, to be filled by any per- 
 son whom that gentleman should appoint ; an ar- 
 rangement against which, it is but justice to add, 
 that Mr Longfield anxiously endeavoured to dis- 
 suade him.f 
 
 • The borough of Kilbeggan, for which the other member was 
 the celebrated Mr Flood. It was also about this period that Mr 
 Curran obtained a silk gown. 
 
 + In the succeeding parliament Mr Curran also came in, at his 
 own expense, for the borough of llathcormack.
 
 134' LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Irish House of Commons in 1783 — Sketch of the previous 
 history of Ireland — Effects of the Revolution of 1688— Catho- 
 lic penal code — System of governing Ireland — Described by Mr 
 Curran — Intolerance and degradation of the Irish Parliament- 
 Change of system — Octennial bill — American Revolution — Its 
 effects upon Ireland — The Irish Volunteers — Described by Mr 
 Curran — Their numbers and influence upon public measures — 
 Irish Revolution of 1782 — Mr Grattan's public services — Ob- 
 servations upon the subsequent conduct of the Irish Parliament. 
 
 It was at the eventful era of 1783, that Mr Curran 
 became a member of the Irish House of Commons, 
 an assembly at that day thronged with groups of 
 original historic characters,* the vigorous product 
 
 * Of some of these, Mr Grattan (in his Answer to Lord Clare's 
 pamphlet, 1801) has given the following masterly sketches, over 
 which he has perhaps unconsciously distributed the noble traits, 
 which, if collected, would form the portrait of himself. 
 
 " I follow the author through the graves of these honourable 
 dead men, for most of them are so, and I beg to raise up their 
 tombstones as he throws them down ; I feel it more instructive to 
 converse with their ashes than with his compositions.
 
 LIFE OF CURllAN. 135 
 
 oY unsettled times ; great public benefactors, great 
 public delinquents, but both of rare capacity and 
 
 Mr Malone,* one of the characteis of 1753, was a man of flio 
 finest intellect tliat any country ever produced. ' The three ablest 
 men I have ever heard, \'i'ere Mr Pitt, (the father), Mr Murray, 
 and Mr Malone. For a popular assembly I would choose Mr 
 Pitt; for a privy council, Murray; for twelve wise men, Malone.* 
 This was the opinion which Lord Sackville, the secretary of 1 755, 
 gave to a gentleman from whom I heard it. * He is a great sea 
 in a calm,' said Mr Gerrard Hamilton, another great judge of men 
 and talents: * Ay,' it was replied, ' but had you seen him when 
 he was young, you would have said he was a great sea in a storm. ' 
 And like the sea, whether in calm or storm, he was a great produc- 
 tion ofnaiure. 
 
 " Lord Pery.— He is not yet canonized by death ; but he, like 
 the rest, has been canonized by slander. He was more or less a 
 party in all those measures which the pamphlet condemns, and in- 
 deed in every great statute and measure that took place in Ireland 
 for the last fifty years. A man of the most legislative capacity I 
 ever knew, and the most comprehensive reach of understanding I 
 ever saw ; with a deep engraven impression of public care, accom- 
 panied by a temper which was adamant. In his train is every 
 private virtue that can adorn human nature. 
 
 " Mr Brownlow ; Sir William Osborne. — I wish we had more 
 of these criminals. The former seconded the address of 1782, 
 and in tlie latter, and in both, there was a station of mind that 
 would have become the proudest senate in Europe. 
 
 ♦ Mr Malone was no more in 1783, but his portrait is preserved tliat llie group 
 might not be dieturbcd.
 
 136 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 enterprise, and exhibiting in their virtues or their 
 crimes all the turbulent energy of the storms that 
 
 " Mr Flood ; my rival, as the pamphlet calls him ; and I should 
 be unworthy the character of his rival, if in his grave I did not do 
 him justice. He had his faults ; but he had great powers, great 
 public effect : he persuaded the old, he inspired the young ; the 
 Castle vanished before him. On a small subject he was miserable : 
 put into his hand a distaff", and, like Hercules, he made sad work 
 of it ; but give him the thunderbolt, and he had the arm of a Ju- 
 piter. He misjudged when he transferred himself to the English 
 parliament; he forgot that he was a tree of the forest, too old and 
 too great to be transplanted at fifty ; and his fate in the British 
 parliament is a caution to the friends of union to stay at home, and 
 make the country of their birth the seat of their action. 
 
 " Mr Burgh. — Another great person in those scenes which it is 
 not in the little quill of this author to depreciate. He was a man 
 singularly gifted, with great talent, great variety — wit, oratory, 
 and logic. He too had his weakness; but he had the pride of 
 genius also, and strove to raise his country along with himself, and 
 never sought to build his elevation on the degradation of Ireland. 
 
 " I moved an amendment for a free export; he moved a better 
 amendment, and he lost his place. 1 moved a declaration of right; 
 * With my last breath will I support the right of the Irish parlia- 
 ment,' was his note to me when I applied to him for his support ; 
 he lost the chance of recovering his place and his way to the seals, 
 for which he might have bartered. The gates of promotion were 
 shut on him as those of glory opened. 
 
 " Mr Daly ; my beloved friend. He in a gieat measure drew 
 the address of 1779 in favour of our trade, that ' ungracious mea-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 137 
 
 were agitating their country. The Irish Revolu- 
 tion of 1782, with the memorable acts and deli- 
 berations of which period the political history of 
 Ireland commences, had just taken place; and al- 
 though it preceded by a little time Mr Curran's 
 entrance into parliament, it still cannot but be 
 adverted to as an event which had a powerful in- 
 fluence upon the fortune and conduct of his future 
 life. He was of too ardent a temper not to be 
 deeply moved by the circumstances which accom- 
 panied that measure : he was the familiar friend 
 of the eminent parliamentary leaders who had 
 been most instrumental in achieving it ; he had 
 witnessed the virtuous struggles and the scenes of 
 
 sure;' and he saw, read, and approved of the address of 1782 in 
 favour of our constitution, that ' address of separation.' He visited 
 me in my illness at that moment, and I had communication on 
 those suhjccts with that man whose powers of oratory were next to 
 perfection, and whose powers of understanding I might say, from 
 what has lately happened, bordered on the spirit of prophecy. 
 
 " IMr Forbes. — A name I shall ever regard, and a death I shall 
 ever deplore. Enlightened, sensible, laborious, and useful ; 
 proud in poverty, and patriotic : he preferred exile to apostasy, 
 and met his death. I speak of the dead — I say nothing of the 
 living ; but that I attribute to this constellation of great men, in 
 3 great measure, the privileges of your country ; and 1 attribute 
 such a generation of men to the residence of your parliament.
 
 138 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 civic heroism displayed by them and by the na- 
 tion at this arduous crisis ; and the impression that 
 they made upon his imagination and his convic- 
 tion was never after effaced. In order therefore 
 fully to comprehend the feelings with which he 
 entered upon his duties as an Irish senator, it will 
 be necessary to make a few observations upon the 
 condition in which he found his country, and 
 upon that from which she had recently emerged. 
 The fervour of his political opinions, and his de- 
 voted adherence to the popular cause, exposed 
 him at different periods of his life to no little ca- 
 lumny and reproach : but those who impartially 
 consider the past and cotemporary history of Ire- 
 land will find in every page of it his excuse, if not 
 his most ample justification. 
 
 For centuries Ireland had been in a state of 
 miserable bondage. Her history is but the dis- 
 gusting catalogue of her sufferings, exciting to 
 unprofitable retaliation, from which she regularly 
 sunk, subdued but untranquillized, into a condi- 
 tion of more imbittered wretchedness,* with the 
 
 * " The slave, that struggles without breaking his chain, pro- 
 vokes the tyrant to double it, and gives him the plea of self-de- 
 fence for extinguishing what at first he only intended to subdue." 
 — Mr Curran's speech in Howison's case.
 
 LIFE OF CURHAN. 139 
 
 penalties of rebellion superadded to the calamities 
 of oppression. From the period of her annexa- 
 tion to England in the twelfth century, down to 
 the close of the seventeenth, she had thus continu- 
 ed, barbarous and restless ; too feeble and disunited 
 to succeed, too strong, and proud, and irritated, 
 to despair ; alternating in dreary succession be- 
 tween wild exertions of delirious strength and the 
 troubled sleep of exhausted fury. It would be 
 foreign to the present purpose to enter into the 
 merits of these melancholy conflicts ; to grope 
 amidst uninteresting records, to ascertain whe- 
 ther Ireland as an unruly province deserved her 
 fate, or whether her condition was attributable to 
 an inveterate spirit of vindictive domination in 
 the English governments. But as we approach 
 more modern times, all obscurity on the subject 
 ceases : we find the ruling country adopting a 
 formal, avowed design of humiliation, which, how- 
 ever applauded (as it still continues to be by some) 
 under the imposing phrase of the " wisdom of our 
 ancestors," was, in reality, founded in much in- 
 justice, and if effects be any test, in as much folly ; 
 and after agitating and afflicting the kingdom for 
 the last century, seems likely to visit in its conse- 
 quences the next.
 
 140 LIFE OF CUR RAN. 
 
 It was immediately after the Revolution of 1688, 
 that era of glory and freedom to England, that 
 Ireland became the victim of this systematic plan 
 of debasement. Her adherence to the deposed 
 monarch and its result are familiar to all. James's 
 party having been crushed, Ireland was treated as 
 a conquered country, that merited nothing but 
 chastisement and scorn. This was not the policy 
 of the English king ; it was that of the English 
 whigs,* the framers of the Bill of Rights, the 
 boasted champions of liberty at home. By these 
 
 • " I am sorry to reflect, that since the late revolution in these 
 kingdoms, when the subjects of England have more strenuously 
 than ever asserted their own rights and the liberty of parliaments, 
 it has pleased them to bear harder on their poor neighbours than 
 has ever yet been done in many ages {oTegoing,"—Moli/neux^8 
 Cause of Ireland. 
 
 This little volume, written throughout with a modesty and ability 
 worthy of the friend of Locke, was formally censured by the Eng- 
 lish House of Commons. A circumstance that preceded its publica- 
 tion is not without interest The author, apprehensive of any uncon- 
 scious bias upon his mind, wrote to his friend for his opinion of 
 some of the arguments ; Locke replied by inviting him to pass 
 over to England, and confer with him in person upon the subject. 
 Molyneux complied, and after spending, as the account states, and 
 as may be well believed, the five most delightful weeks of his life in 
 the society of his illustrious friend, returned to Dublin and pub- 
 lislied bis work.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. HI 
 
 men, and by their successors (who, of whatever 
 political denomination, agreed with them in their 
 intolerance), was Ireland, without shame or pity, 
 dismantled of her most precious rights. Laws 
 were made to bind her, without consulting the 
 Irish parliament, which, when it remonstrated, 
 was charged with riot and sedition.* Her com- 
 merce was openly discouraged. A code more 
 furious than bigotry had hitherto penned, was 
 levelled against the mass of the nation, the Roman 
 Catholics.f They were successively excluded from 
 the right to sit in parliament, to acquire land, to 
 hold any employment under the crown, to vote 
 in elections of members of parliament, to inter- 
 marry with protestants, to exercise religious wor- 
 ship ; in short, by a kind of constructive annihi- 
 
 * When the Irish commons in 1792 claimed tlie right of origi- 
 nating money bills, they were told by the viceroy, Lord Sidney, 
 that " they might go to England, and beg their Majesties' pardon 
 for their riotous and seditious assemblies." 
 
 f " You abhorred it, as I did, for its vicious perfection ; for I 
 must do it justice, it was a complete system, full of coherence and 
 consistency, well digested and well composed in all its parts. It 
 was a machine of wise and elaborate contrivance, and as well fit- 
 ted for the oppression, impoverishment, and degradation of a peo- 
 ple, and the debasement in them of human nature itself, as ever 
 proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man,"— JBurke^s Letter 
 to Sir H. Lavip-ishe.
 
 142 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 lation, " the laws did not presume a papist to 
 exist in the kingdom, nor could they breathe 
 without the connivance of government." f 
 
 This state of national humiliation lasted almost 
 a century. Viceroy succeeded viceroy with no 
 other rule of government than to continue the 
 system as he found it. A race of subordinate 
 ministers sprang up within the land, of no public 
 virtue, no expanded thought, utterly unconscious 
 that man can be improved ; exhibiting in their 
 heartless measures that practical ferocity for which 
 jailors or keepers would be selected, rather than 
 those mild and sanative qualities that might have 
 soothed the distempers of the times. " Hence it 
 is," said Mr Curran, speaking of this period, 
 " that the administration of Ireland so often pre-' 
 sents to the reader of her history, not the view of 
 a legitimate government, but rather of an en- 
 campment in the country of a barbarous enemy, 
 where the object of an invader is not government 
 but conquest; where he is of course obliged to 
 resort to the corrupting of clans, or of single in- 
 dividuals, pointed out to his notice by public ab- 
 horrence, and recommended to his confidence only 
 
 f Such was the declaration from the bench of the Irish chan« 
 ccllor in 1 759.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 14-3 
 
 by a treachery so rank and consummate as precludes 
 all possibility of their return to private virtue or 
 to public reliance, and therefore only put into 
 authority over a wretched country, condemned to 
 the torture of all that petulant unfeeling asperity 
 with which a narrow and malignant mind will brisr- 
 tie in unmerited elevation ; condemned to be be- 
 trayed, and disgraced, and exhausted by the little 
 traitors that have been suffered to nestle and o-row 
 within it; who make it at once the source of their 
 grandeur and the victim of their vices ; reducing 
 it to the melancholy necessity of supporting their 
 consequence and of sinking under their crimes, 
 like the lion perishing by the poison of a reptile 
 that finds shelter in the mane of the noble animal, 
 while it is stinging him to death." f 
 - Ireland was in those times in as stranj^e and 
 disastrous a situation as can well be imagined; 
 her own legislature hating and trampling upon 
 her people, and the English government suspect- 
 ing and despising both. There may have been 
 sufficient intricacy in the minor details of the 
 policy of the time, but the leading maxims appear 
 in all the clearness of despotic simplicity. They 
 were to awe the real or imputed disaffection of the 
 
 f Mr Curran's speech in Howison's case.
 
 144' LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 natives by means of a harsh domestic administra- 
 tion, and to check any more general exercise of 
 power assumed by that administration, as an in- 
 trusion upon the legislative supremacy of England. 
 As far as respected internal concerns, the Irish 
 lords and commons were a triumphant faction, 
 despoiling and insulting the remains of a fallen 
 enemy : in their relation with England they were 
 miserable instruments, without confidence or dig- 
 nity; armed by their employers with the fullest 
 authority to molest or to crush, but instantly and 
 contemptuously reminded of their own degrada- 
 tion, if ever they evinced any presumptuous desire 
 to redress. 
 
 Against so unnatural a system, it is no wonder 
 that the claims of freedom should have no avail. 
 If a transient scream was heard among the people, 
 it excited immediate alarm at home, as ominous 
 of an approaching storm;* if her voice issued. 
 
 * Upon the trial of the printer of Swift's celebrated Letters of a 
 Drapier, the lord chief-justice, Whitshed, declared that the author's 
 intention was to bring in the Pretender. — Plowden's History of 
 Ireland, vol. ii. p. SI. 
 
 Dr Lucas, who ventured in his writings to vindicate the rights 
 of the Irish commons, was declared by that house an enemy to his 
 country, and obliged to seek for safety in exile (1747).
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. Ii5 
 
 as it sometimes did, from the Irish commons, it 
 was considered a daring invasion of the rights of 
 of a higher power.* If the spirit of that house 
 became too unruly for provincial purposes, the 
 patriotic murmur was quickly hushed by lengthen- 
 ing the pension list : a given number of oppres- 
 sors was required, and while a venal heart was to 
 he had in the market, no matter how high the 
 price, the price was paid, and the nation called 
 on (in addition to its other burdens) to defray the 
 expenses of its own wrongs. 
 
 Thus it continued for many years, with all the 
 miseries of despotism without its repose: commerce 
 extinguished, the public spirit broken, public ho- 
 nour and private confidence banished, bigotry and 
 faction alone triumphant. 
 
 Sentiments of wisdom and pity at length oc- 
 curred to the English cabinet. It began to doubt 
 if the Irish people were so incurably furious as 
 their tormentors had represented. It resolved to 
 inquire, and, if necessary, to redress. A very little 
 investigation proved that never was some merciful 
 interposition more opportune ; it was like a visit to 
 some secret cell to rescue the victims of imputed 
 frenzy from their inhuman immurers, who had 
 
 • Vide question of the appropriation of the surplus, in 1755. 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 LIFE OF CUEHAN. 
 
 chained their persons and traduced their intellects,: 
 that they might prey upon their inheritance. 
 
 The subject of the first healing measure was 
 the parliament. There was no representation of 
 the people in Ireland : there was a House of Com- 
 mons, which, having no limits to its duration, 
 had become a banditti of perpetual dictators.*: 
 The octennial bill was passed, and the hardened 
 veterans disbanded.f This was not for the pur- 
 pose of making even a nominal appeal to the sense 
 of the nation : it was to give the crown an oppor- 
 tunity of dispersing that provincial oligarchy, 
 whose maxims had been so ruinous to their coun- ; 
 try, and of substituting in their place a class of 
 more pliant dependants, who might readily ac- 
 cord with the purposed lenity of the new system. 
 As a right, or a security for a right, which no- 
 thing can give a people if they give it not them- . 
 selves, this act effected little. As a diminution of 
 calamity, as a transfer from the barbarous domi- 
 nion of their domestic tyrants to the more consi- 
 derate and enlightened controul of the English 
 
 * And four-fifths of the people were excluded from the elective 
 franchise by the 1st Geo. II. c. 9. 
 
 + 1767, under the admimstration of Lord Townshend.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. H'7 
 
 ministry, it had its value. It was received by the 
 nation, who have ever been as precipitate in their 
 gratitude as in their resentments, with transports 
 of enthusiastic and unaccustomed joy; a signal 
 proof, if such were wanting, of their loyalty and 
 their debasement. 
 
 The Irish House of Commons, however, began 
 now to wear in some degree the appearance of a 
 constitutional assembly. Notwithstanding the po" 
 litical ignominy into which the nation had fallen, 
 there still existed in that house a small band of 
 able and upright men, who entertained more 
 manly and charitable notions of a people's claims 
 than their ungenerous opponents; and who, though 
 they might not possess the power of redressing the 
 immediate wrongs, were still ever at hand to refute 
 the baneful doctrines that would have sanctioned 
 their continuance. In the British senate, too, 
 (it should be gratefully remembered) Ireland had 
 her advocates; whose expanded minds, superior 
 to the paltry ambition of domination, would have 
 made the noblest use of their own privileges, that 
 of liberally imparting them. The consequences 
 of these better opinions occasionally appeared ; 
 the viceroy was defeated upon some constitutional
 
 ♦ 
 
 148 LIFE OF CUllRAN. 
 
 questions ;* the commons were reprimanded and 
 prorogued ; measures full of honour to them, and 
 of hope to their country. 
 
 But these were only transitory visitations of 
 spirit; the effects rather of the negligence than 
 the weakness of the viceroy. The ranks of the 
 opposition were soon thinned by the never-failing 
 expedient, and whatever relief was meditated for 
 the Irish, was to come in the form of a gift, and 
 not a concession. Relief was certainly in the con- 
 templation of the English minister ;f to what ex- 
 tent it is now immaterial to inquire; he was anti- 
 cipated by events that were above his controul. 
 
 Ireland was now upon the eve of " a great ori- 
 ginal transaction." The American colonies had 
 revolted; the Irish linen trade with those pro- 
 vinces, which had been the principal of Ireland's 
 few sources of commercial wealth, instantly va- 
 nished; to this was added a general embargo 
 upon the exportation of provisions, lest they 
 might circuitously reach the insurgents. Univer- 
 sal distress ensued. The Commons for the first 
 
 • Among other instances of the increasing spirit of the House of 
 Commons, was their repeated rejections of money bills, because 
 they did not take their rise in that house. 1769. 
 
 f Lord North,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 149 
 
 time assumed the attitude of representatives of" the 
 nation : they addressed the viceroy upon the pub- 
 lic emergencies with dignity and firmness, and 
 were dissolved.* Strenuous measui'es were taken 
 by the government to secure a majority in the 
 parliament that followed ; but the crisis soon ar- 
 rived when the destinies of the country were trans- 
 ferred to other hands. 
 
 The internal wretchedness of Ireland had been 
 great; it was now aggi'avated by the dangers of war. 
 The regular forces in the kingdom exceeded not 
 five thousand men, the remainder having been call- 
 ed off to recruit the army in America. The ene- 
 my's fleets, superior to that of Great Britain, were 
 careering in triumph through the channel, and 
 daily expected upon Ireland's unprotected coasts. 
 In this emergency, the town of Belfast, having 
 applied to government for a military reinforce- 
 ment, and its requisition having been answered 
 by an offer of supply that cannot be related with 
 gravity,! had the honour of first raising that 
 warning voice, which, hushing every baser mur- 
 
 • 1777. 
 
 + The ansxver of the government was, that all the assistance it 
 could afibrd was half a troop of dismounted horse, and half a com- 
 pany of invalids.
 
 150 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 mur, awoke the nation to confidence and strength. 
 She called upon her citizens to arm in their de- 
 fence. A corps of volunteers was immediately 
 established. The noble example was ardently 
 followed by the country at large, and Ireland 
 soon beheld starting up, with a scenic rapidity, a 
 self-collected, self-disciplined body of forty thou- 
 sand volunteers.f " You cannot but remember," 
 
 f Since the first publication of this Work the writer has been 
 favoured with information that he regards as authentic, from which 
 it would appear that the plan of the volunteer associations emanated 
 from the " Monks of the Screw." The chief object of that socie- 
 ty was to prepare the public mind, by means of the press, for 3 
 constitutional resistance to the usurpation of the English parlia- 
 ment. A few members of bolder views frequently discussed the 
 practicability of arming Ireland. One of these was Lord Car- 
 hampton, who, on hearing the answer of the government to the re- 
 quisition from Belfast, exclaimed to Dr Jebb, " Now is our time." 
 Dr Jebb replied, " that the country was ripe for the proposal, and 
 that, if supplied with a small sum to defray the incidental expenses, 
 he would undertake to ensure its success." He named L.40, and 
 that sum was handed to him from the funds of the society. He 
 was asked no questions — and he never mentioned himself in what 
 particular manner he had employed it. In a few days after, Bel- 
 fast and other towns, both in the North and South of Ireland, 
 declared themselves. Doctor Jebb had established a political 
 correspondence with all the considerable places in the kingdom 
 —and his friends who had been present at the preceding conver- 
 sation, attributed the rapid and simultaneous formation of Volun-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 151 
 
 said Mr Curran, describing this scene, of which 
 he had been a witness, " that at a time when we 
 had scarcely a regular soldier for our defence, 
 when the old and young were alarmed and ter- 
 rified with apprehensions of descent upon our 
 coasts, that Providence seemed to have worked 
 a sort of miracle in our favour. You saw a band 
 of armed men come forth at the great call of na- 
 ture, of honour, and their country. You saw men 
 of the greatest wealth and rank ; you saw every 
 class of the community give up its members, and 
 send them armed into the field, to protect the 
 public and private tranquillity of Ireland. It is 
 impossible for any man to turn back to that pe- 
 riod, without reviving those sentiments of tender- 
 ness and gratitude which then beat in the public 
 bosom ; to recollect amidst what applause, what 
 tears, what prayers, what benedictions, they walk- 
 ed forth amongst spectators agitated by the min- 
 gled sensations of terror and of reliance, of dan- 
 ger and of protection, imploring the blessings of 
 Heaven upon their heads, and its conquest upon 
 their swords. That illustrious, and adored, and 
 abused body of men, stood forward and assumed 
 
 teer corps in disiaiU districts, to the impulse given by him through 
 agents or written communications.
 
 152 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the title which I trust the ingratitude of their 
 country will never blot from its history, ' The 
 volunteers of Ireland.' " * 
 
 The original object of these associations had 
 been to defend the country from foreign invasion. 
 The administration, forgetting the loyalty of the 
 proceeding in their affright at so unexpected an 
 exhibition of strength and enterprise, beheld an 
 enemy already in possession of the land ; but affect- 
 ing to countenance what they could not controul, 
 they supplied the volunteers with several thousand 
 stands of arms, and looked to the return of more 
 tranquil and servile times, to disarm and defame 
 them. 
 
 The volunteers soon swelled into an army of 
 80,000 men. In their ranks appeared the most 
 admired characters in the kingdom, animating 
 them with the enthusiasm, and tempering the ge- 
 neral ardour by all the courtesy, and the high 
 moral discipline, that the presence of so many 
 noblemen, and senators, and gentlemen could in- 
 spire. They had armed to protect the crown — 
 no invader appeared ; another and a more pre- 
 cious object of protection remained. Ireland 
 
 * Speech in Hamilton Rowan's case.
 
 LIFE OF CUIIRAN. 153 
 
 was at their disposal, and they unanimously de- 
 termined that, to consummate their work, they 
 should continue under arms until they saw her 
 free. They resolved " to shew, that if man de- 
 scends, it is not in his proper motion ; that it is with 
 labour and with pain, and that he can continue to 
 sink only until, by the force and pressure of the 
 descent, the spring of his immortal faculties ac- 
 quires that recuperative energy and effort, that 
 hurries him as many miles aloft." * 
 
 The demands of the volunteers were altogether 
 unlike a mere sudden ebullition of popular discon- 
 tent. They were the result of deep convictions, 
 the splendid signs of the improved opinions of the 
 age. The example of America was before them, 
 and the cry for redress in Ireland was but the 
 echo of that " voice which shouted to liberty " f 
 there. The mode of their constitution, too, was 
 peculiarly fortunate and authoritative. They were 
 not a regular military force, mutinously dictating 
 measures to the state. They were not a band of in- 
 surgents, illegal in their origin and objects. The 
 circumstances of the times had invested the volun- 
 teers with a constitutional character. The go- 
 
 • Mr Curran's speech in Finnerty's case, 
 f An expression of Mr Flood's.
 
 154: LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 vernment had recognized them, and aided their 
 formation ; the House of Commons voted them a 
 formal declaration of thanks for their public ser- 
 vices : the people looked up to them with admira- 
 tion and respect, as a brave, united, and zealous 
 body, combining the intelligence and moderation 
 of loyal citizens, with the influence and resources 
 of a powerful army. 
 
 . The effects of the firmness and wisdom of their 
 proceedings were soon apparent. The demand of 
 the nation for a free trade, and the memorable 
 declaration in parliament, " that no power on eart/i, 
 save the King, Lords, and Commons of Ireland, had 
 a right to make laxosfor Ireland"* were no longer 
 disregarded. The case of America had just shewn 
 how a struggle for principle might terminate. 
 *' British supremacy had fallen there like a spent 
 thunderbolt."f The bigotry, servility, and dis- 
 union, which so long supported it in Ireland, had 
 for the moment disappeared. Ireland declared, 
 and England felt, that no other policy remain- 
 ed, " but to do justice to a people, who were 
 otherwise determined to do justice to themselves. ":f 
 
 * The words of Mr Grattan's motion, April 19. 1780. 
 f Mr Grattan's speech, Nov. 13. 1781. 
 I Mr Grattan's speech, April 19. 1780.
 
 LIFE OP CURRAN. 155 
 
 The British ministry, whose infatuated counsels 
 had lost America, and whose tardiness and insin- 
 cerity with respect to Ireland had been encourag- 
 ing the spirit of resistance there, were removed, 
 and successors appointed, with instructions to 
 make such honourable concessions as were due to 
 the services, the strength, and the just pretensions 
 of the Irish people. The principal restrictions 
 upon the trade of Ireland had been previously 
 taken off. Under the Marquis of Rockingham's 
 administration, the great leading grievance, that 
 included in its principle so many more, was re- 
 dressed. England resigned her legislative preten- 
 sions, and recognized Ireland to be 2ifree nation* 
 This signal event, so justly denominated by Mr 
 Burke the Irish Revolution, was the work of the 
 Irish volunteers. Their efforts were powerfully 
 aided by the momentary spirit which they infused 
 into the Irish House of Commons. In many of 
 its members, the enthusiasm vanished with the 
 occasion ; but there remained a few, whose better 
 
 t 1782. Several important constitutional acts were passed in 
 
 Ireland during this short administration. A habeas corpus act, 
 the repeal of the perpetual mutiny bill, the act for the inde- 
 pendence of the judges, an act in favour of dissenting protcstants. 
 A slight relaxation of the penal code had taken place in 1778.
 
 156 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 natures, superior to the controul of accident, con- 
 tinued to struggle for the public good with a con- 
 stancy, ability, and zeal, which sprang from with- 
 in themselves. Their merits have been long since 
 recorded : the pre-eminent merits of their illustri- 
 ous leader, now associated with the proudest re- 
 collections of his country, require no new attesta- 
 tion. Mr Grattan's most splendid panegyric, for 
 the only one truly worthy of him, we are to look 
 in what he has himself pronounced. His public 
 exertions, the monuments of his genius and his 
 worth, are preserved: his historian will have but 
 to collect and refer to them, justly confiding, that 
 as long as eloquence, patriotism, intrepidity, and 
 uncompromising honour are valued in public men, 
 the example of Mr Grattan will remain the sub- 
 ject of lasting gratitude and praise.* 
 
 • Mr Grattan, like other men of original genius and character, 
 has been many times in the course of his memorable career mis- 
 represented and reviled. The following spirited defence of him 
 against such attacks was made in the Irish House of Commons, 
 by his friend Mr Peter Burroughs, a gentleman who has been 
 long distinguished for his eloquence in the senate, and at the bar, 
 and for the unsuspected purity of his public and private life. " I 
 cannot repress my indignation, at the audacious boldness of the 
 calumny, which would asperse one of the most exalted characters 
 which any nation ever produced ; and that in a country which
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 157 
 
 The triumph which Ireland gained in the de- 
 claration of her independence, was the triumph 
 of a principle, which, however glorious it might 
 have been to those who achieved it, failed to con- 
 fer upon the nation the benefit and repose that 
 the political philanthropist fondly anticipated. 
 The spirit of the parliament was exhausted in 
 the single effort — they had emancipated them- 
 selves from the controul of another legislature ; but 
 no sooner was the victory obtained, than it be- 
 
 owes its liberty, and its greatness, to the energy of his exertions, 
 and in the very house which has so often been the theatre of his 
 "lorious labours, and splendid achievements. I remember that 
 man the theme of universal panegyric — the wonder and the boast 
 of Ireland, for his genius and his virtue. His name silenced the 
 sceptic, upon the reality of genuine patriotism. To doubt the 
 purity of his motives was a heresy which no tongue dared to utter. 
 Envy was lost in admiration ; and even those whose crimes he 
 scourged, blended extorted praises with the murmurs of resentment. 
 He covered our {then) unfledged constitution with the ample wings 
 of his talents, as an eagle covers her young ; like her he soared, 
 and like her he could behold the rays, whether of royal favour or 
 royal anger, with undazzled, unintimidated eye. If, according to 
 Demosthenes, to grow with the growth, and decay with the decline 
 of our country, be the true criterion of a good citizen, how infinite- 
 ly did this man, even in the moment of his lowest depression, sur- 
 pass those upstart patriots who only become visible when their coun- 
 try vanishes!"
 
 iS8 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 came evident that very few of its fruits were to be 
 shared among the people. Great domestic abuses 
 still prevailed; the corrupt state of the legisla- 
 ture ; * its consequence, an enormous and increas- 
 ing pension list ; and, above all, the exclusion of 
 the Roman catholics from the most valuable pri- 
 vileges of the constitution. There were many 
 others of subordinate importance. From Mr 
 Curran's entrance into parliament, he joined those 
 whose opinion it was that these abuses should be 
 corrected. The result of the exertions of himself 
 and the party with which, for the fourteen years 
 that he was a senator, he acted, is shortly told. 
 They almost uniformly failed in every measure 
 that they brought forward or opposed. It would 
 far exceed the limits and the objects of this Work 
 to discuss at any length the merits of these several 
 measures, some of which continue to this day the 
 subject of anxious controversy upon another and a 
 greater theatre. Yet it may be observed, that the 
 
 ♦ According to a table of the state of the representation of Ire- 
 land, published in 1783, out of the 300 members of the House of 
 Commons, (viz. for 32 counties, 64 knights; for seven cities, 14 
 citizens; for one university, 2 representatives; for 110 boroughs, 
 220 burgesses), the people returned 81, including the 64 for coun- 
 ties, and the patrons the remaining 219.
 
 LIFE OF CUBUAN. 159 
 
 acts of the Irish legislature, during the period in- 
 question, afford matter, if not of a very attractive 
 kind, at least of very solemn and important in- 
 struction. Whoever takes the pains to examine 
 them will find how transitory, and almost value- 
 less to a nation the glory of asserting nominal 
 rights, if there be not diffused throughout its va- 
 rious classes that fund of conservative virtue and 
 spirit, which alone can give dignity and stability 
 to its independence, by operating as a perpetual 
 renewal of its claims. He will find one practical 
 and terrible example (illustrated by continued dis- ' 
 contents and disturbances, and finally by a rebel- 
 lion), of the folly of expecting that human beings, 
 in whom the political passions have been once 
 awakened, can be attached, or even reconciled, ; 
 to the most admired form of government, by any 
 other means, than by a I'eal and conscientious ; 
 communication of those privileges, for which they 
 would deem it dishonourable not to thirst. For 
 the last eighteen years of her separate existence, 
 Ireland was in the theoretic enjoyment of the 
 same constitution which has long made Great 
 Britain the wonder of other nations ; but in Ire- 
 land, however boasted the acquisition, it soon 
 appeared to be but a lifeless copy, minutely exact
 
 160 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 in external form, but wanting all the vigour, and 
 warmth, and imparting spirit of the glorious ori- 
 ginal. The Irish legislature, seduced by their fa- 
 tal ardour for monopoly, would not see that their 
 own emancipation had sent abroad a general taste 
 for freedom, which it was most perilous to disap- 
 point. Unwisely and ungenerously separating 
 their interests and pride from those of their coun- 
 try, they preferred taking a weak and hostile po- 
 sition upon the narrow ground of exclusive privi- 
 lege, instead of taking their stand, where there 
 Was ample space for the parliament and people, 
 and for all, upon the base of the British constitu- 
 tion.* They affected to think that the time had 
 not arrived when the Catholic could be trusted ; 
 as if the enjoyment of rights and confidence for a 
 single year would not prove a more instructive 
 school of fidelity than centuries of suspicion and 
 
 * " I have read," (said Mr Curran, speaking of these unpopular 
 maxims of the Irish Parliament), " I have read the history of other 
 nations. I have read the history of yours. I have seen how hap- 
 pily you emerged from insignificance, and obtained a constitution." 
 But when you washed this constitution with the waters which were 
 to render it invulnerable, you forgot that the part by whicli you 
 held it was untouched in the immersion; it was benumbed, and 
 not rendered invulnerable, and should therefore attract your nicest 
 care."— Irish Far. Deb. 1787.
 
 LIFE OF CURRA>:. 161 
 
 exclusion. But in reality, it does not appear from 
 the transactions of those times, that the minds of 
 the excluded catholics were less matured for all 
 the responsibilities of independence than those of 
 the Irish aristocracy, upon whom alone the recent 
 revolution had conferred it. The 80,000 volun- 
 teers, who had been the instruments of that inde- 
 pendence, were not a protestant association. The 
 depreciated catholic was in their ranks, adding the 
 authority of his strength, his zeal, and his mode- 
 ration, to the cause of the Irish parliament, and 
 not unreasonably confiding, that in the hour of 
 victory his services would be remembered. These 
 services and claims were however forgotten ; and 
 here it is that the Irish legislature will be found 
 utterly unworthy of that controlling power, which 
 they had lately acquired over the destinies of their 
 countr}', — in abandoning, as they did, a proud, 
 iiTitated, and robust population, to all the sug- 
 gestions and resources of their indignation — in 
 not having " interposed the constitution," to save 
 the state. 
 
 But the point of view, in which a regular his- 
 tory of the latter conduct and character of the 
 Irish House of Commons would supply matter of 
 no ordinaiy interest to a lover of the British con- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 stitution, is in the example which it would afford, 
 of an assembly, founded upon the model of that 
 constitution, exhibiting itself in its stage of final 
 deterioration. In Ireland the prediction of Mon- 
 tesquieu* has been verified — not in all its dismal 
 extent, for Irish independence has found an eutha- 
 nasia peculiar and accidental ; but still the spec- 
 tacle of legislative immorality, and its instructive 
 warnings, are the same. The corrupted Com- 
 mons of Ireland surrendered all that was demand- 
 ed — all that a few years before they had gloried 
 in having acquired ; and if a valuable portion of 
 their country's rights and hopes was not included 
 in the sale, the praise of having respected them is 
 due to the wisdom and mercy of the purchasers, 
 and not to any honourable reluctance on the side 
 of the mercenary sellers. In whatever light the 
 act of Union be viewed in its ultimate consequences 
 to the empire, the assembly which perpetrated it 
 must be considered as having reached the farthest 
 limits of degeneracy ; because the terras on which 
 they insisted have stamped upon them a character 
 of political dishonour, that disdained every con- 
 
 * " That the British constitution would not survive the event of 
 the legislative power becoming more corrupt than the executive." 
 —Spirit of Laius.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 163 
 
 troul of compunction or of pride. For if the sur- 
 render to which they consented was regarded by 
 them as a sacrifice of Ireland's rights, how enor- 
 mous and unmitigated the dehnquency ! — or if, 
 on the other hand, they imagined it to be essen- 
 tial to the welfare of the empire, how vile and 
 fallen that spirit which could degrade a necessary 
 act of state into a sordid contract ! The pailia- 
 ment that could do this had no longer any morals 
 to lose, — and therefore it is that the constitutional 
 Englishman, who is labouring to procrastinate the 
 fulfilment of the prophecy that impends over his 
 own hitherto more fortunate country, is referred 
 for abundant illustrations of the apprehended 
 crisis to the decline and fall of the Irish legisla- 
 ture. In contemplating that scene, he will have 
 an opportunity of observing the great leading 
 symptoms, and (which may equally deserve his 
 attention) of discerning the minute, but no less 
 unerring signs which portend that the spirit which 
 gives it life is about to depart from the represen- 
 tative body : and should it ever be his calamity to 
 witness, what he will find Ireland was condemned 
 to see, the members of that body betraying, by 
 their conduct and language, that they held their 
 station as a portion of their private property,
 
 16^ LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 rather than as a temporary public trust — should 
 he observe a general and insatiate appetite for 
 power, for the sake of its emoluments and not its 
 honours — should he see, as Ireland did, grave 
 and authenticated charges of public delinquency 
 answered by personal menaces, or by most inde- 
 cent ridicule, — skilful duellists and jesters held 
 in peculiar honour, — public virtue systematically 
 discountenanced, by imputing its profession to a 
 factious disappointed spirit — should he see, within 
 the walls of the Commons' assembly, a standing 
 brigade of mercenaries, recognizing no duty be- 
 yond fidelity to their employers, the Swiss de- 
 fenders of any minister or any principle — should 
 he, lastly, observe a marked predilection for penal 
 restraints, an unseemly propensity to tamper with 
 the constitution, by experimental suspensions of 
 its established usages — should Englishmen ever 
 find all, or many of these to be the characteristics 
 of the depositaries of their rights, let them remem- 
 ber the prediction of the philosopher, and the fate 
 of Ireland, and be assured that their boasted se- 
 curities are becomins: but a name. 
 
 But to record at length the progress of that 
 fate, to dwell in any detail upon the various char- 
 acters, and the various inducements (whether of
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 165 
 
 hope, or terror, or avarice, or ambition, or public 
 duty), of the men who accelerated, and of those 
 who would have averted the catastrophe, might 
 well be the subject of a separate and a very con- 
 siderable work. It will be sufficient for the pur- 
 poses of Mr Curran's history to have made these 
 cursory allusions to the spirit of the times in which 
 he acted, leaving more ample developments of it 
 to himself, in the specimens of his eloquence that 
 will be found in the following pages. 
 
 Mr Curran's parliamentary speeches have been 
 always and justly considered as inferior to his dis- 
 plays at the bar. To this deficiency many cir- 
 cumstances contributed. Depending solely upon 
 his profession for support, he not only was seldom 
 able to give an undivided attention to the ques- 
 tions brought before the senate, but he perpetual- 
 ly came to the discussion of them, exhausted by 
 the professional labours of the day. The greater 
 number of the important questions that emanated 
 from the opposition were naturally introduced by 
 the older leaders of that party; while he, whose 
 talents were most powerful in reply, was reserved 
 to combat the arguments of the other side. The 
 debates, upon these occasions, were in general 
 protracted to a very late hour; so that it often
 
 166 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 happened, when Mr Curran rose to speak, that 
 the note-takers were sleeping over their task, or 
 had actually quitted the gallery. But, most of 
 all, the same carelessness of fame, which has left 
 his speeches at the bar in their present uncorrect- 
 ed state, has irretrievably injured his parliamen- 
 tary reputation. While other members sat up 
 whole nights retouching their speeches for publi- 
 cation, he almost invariably abandoned his to their 
 fate, satisfied with having made the exertion that 
 his sense of duty dictated ; and deeming it of little 
 moment that what had failed of success within the 
 house, should circulate and be applauded with- 
 out.* 
 
 Notwithstanding these disadvantages, however, 
 his career in parliament supplies much that is in 
 the highest degree honourable to his talents, and 
 spirit, and public integrity ; of which the leading 
 examples shall be adverted to, as they occur in 
 the order of time. 
 
 • Another circumstance contributed greatly to the inaccuracy 
 of the reported speeches of such opposition members as would not 
 take the pains of correcting them. The most skilful note-takers, 
 of whom the number was very small, were in the service of the 
 government, and considered it a part of their duty to suppress 
 whatever it might not be agreeable to the administration to see 
 published.
 
 JAFE OF CURRAN. 167 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mr Flood's plan of Parliamentary Reform — Mr Curran's contest 
 and Duel with Mr Fitzgibbon (afterwards Lord Clare) — Speech 
 on Pensions — His Professional Success — Mode of Life — Occa- 
 sional Verses — Visits France — Letters from Dieppe and Rouen 
 — Anecdote — Letter from Paris — Anecdote — Letter from Mr 
 Boyse — Anecdote of Mr Boyse — Letters from Holland. 
 
 The first occasion upon which Mr Curran's name 
 appears in the parliamentary register, is in the 
 tempestuous debate of November 29. 1783, upon 
 Mr Flood's proposition for a reform in parliament. 
 The convention of volunteers, by whom Mr Flood's 
 plan had been approved, was still sitting in Dublin. 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon of the 29th of 
 November, that gentleman rose in the convention, 
 and proposed that he, accompanied by such mem- 
 bers of parliament as were then present, should 
 immediately go down to the House of Commons, 
 and move for leave to bring in a bill exactly cor- 
 responding with the plan of reform approved of 
 by them, and that the convention should not ad- 
 journ till the fote of his motion was ascertained. 
 Lord Charlemont's biographer, who, apparently
 
 i68 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 
 
 with much reason, condemns the violence of this 
 proceeding, describes the scene in the House of 
 Commons as terrific : several of the minority, and 
 all the delegates from the convention, appeared 
 in their military uniforms. As to the debate, " it 
 was uproai% it was clamour, violent menace, and 
 furious recrimination." * In the little that Mr 
 Curran said, he supported Mr Flood's motion. 
 
 In the following month he spoke at more length 
 in prefacing a motion on the right of the House of 
 Commons to originate money bills ; but as neither 
 this, nor any of his parliamentary speeches during 
 the sessions of 1783 and 1784, contain much that 
 is remarkable, it would be unnecessarily swelling 
 these pages to dwell upon them in detail. 
 
 In the year 1785 took place his quarrel with 
 the late Lord Clare (then Mr Fitzgibbon, the 
 attorney-general), an event which deeply affected 
 his future fortunes. During Mr Curran's first 
 years at the bar they had been on terms of polite 
 and even familiar intercourse ;t but the dissimi- 
 larity of their public characters, the high aristo- 
 
 * Hardy s Life of Lord Charlemont, page 270; where the par- 
 ticulars of this interesting scene are very strikingly detailed. 
 
 f The first bag that Mr Curran ever carried was presented to 
 him by Mr Fitzgibbon, for good luck sake.
 
 J.1FE OF CURRAN. 169 
 
 cratic arrogance of the one, and the popular tenets 
 of the other, soon separated them. Even their 
 private tastes and habits would have forbidden a 
 lasting friendship. Lord Clare despised literature, 
 in vkhieh Mr Curran so delighted. The one in 
 private as in public disdained all the arts of win- 
 ning ; he was sullen or overbearing, and, when 
 lie condescended to be jocular, was generally of- 
 fensive. The other was in all companies the 
 reverse ; playful, communicative, and conciliating. 
 Mr Curran nerer, like his more haughty rival, 
 regulated his urbanity by the rank of his compa- 
 nions ; or if he did, it was by a diametrically 
 opposite rule ; the more humble the person, the 
 more cautiously did he abstain from inflicting pain. 
 For all those lighter talents of wit and fancy which 
 Mr Curran was incessantly and almost involun- 
 tarily displaying. Lord Clare had a real or an 
 affected contempt, and would fain persuade him- 
 self that they were incompatible with those higher 
 powers which he considered could alone raise the 
 possessor to an equality with himself. Mr Curran 
 was perhaps equally hasty in underrating the abi- 
 lities of his antagonist. Detesting his arbitrary 
 principles, and disgusted with his unpopular man- 
 ners, he would sec nothing in him but the petty
 
 170 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 despot, ascending to a bad eminence by obvious 
 and unworthy methods, and therefore meriting 
 his unqualified hatred and invective. 
 
 With such elements of personal dislike and po- 
 litical hostility, it is not surprising that when they 
 met they should clash, and that the conflict should 
 be violent and lasting. The very destinies of the 
 two men seemed to have placed them where their 
 contrasted qualities and peculiar force might be 
 most strikingly displayed. Lord Clare was fitted 
 by nature to attain power and to abuse it. Many 
 men of inferior capacity might have attained as 
 much ; but without his resources and perseverance, 
 few could have continued so long to abuse it with 
 impunity. Mr Curran was either ignorant of, or 
 despised, the arts which led to station : his talent 
 lay not in defending doubtful measures or selecting 
 political expedients, but in exposing violated trust, 
 in braving and denouncing public delinquents, in 
 pathetic or indignant appeals to those natural ele- 
 mentary principles of human rights, against which 
 political expedients are too frequently directed. 
 He could never, like Lord Clare, have managed 
 a venal, restless aristocracy, so as to command 
 their concurrence in a long system of unpopular 
 encroachments ; nor like him have continued for
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 171 
 
 years to face the public reprobation of such con- 
 duct : as little could the latter, had he sided with 
 the people, have brought to their cause such va- 
 ried stores of wit and ridicule, and persuasive 
 eloquence, as the harangues of his more gifted 
 rival display. 
 
 In a debate on attachments* in the Irish House 
 of Commons (1785), as Mr Curran rose to speak 
 against them, perceiving that Mr Fitzgibbon had 
 fallen asleep on his seat, he thus commenced : " I 
 hope I may say a few words on this great subject 
 without disturbing the sleep of any right honour- 
 able member ; and yet perhaps I ought rather to 
 envy than blame the tranquillity of the right ho- 
 nourable gentleman. I do not feel myself so hap- 
 pily tempered as to be lulled to repose by the 
 storms that shake the land. If they invite rest to 
 any, that rest ought not to be lavished on the 
 
 * This debate arose out of one of the most arbitrary measures of 
 Mr Fitzgibbon. The High-Sheriff of the county of Dublin had 
 convened and presided at a meeting of liis county, in which resolu- 
 tions of a seditious tendency were passed. The Sherifl's conduct 
 appears to have amounted to an Indictable misdemeanor; but 
 the attorney-general, instead of proceeding against him by Indict- 
 ment or Information, adopted the more summary mode of attach- 
 ment. The SherifT was accordingly fined and imprisoned.
 
 172 LIFE OF CURBAN. 
 
 guilty spirit."* Provoked by these expressions, 
 and by the general tenor of the observations that 
 followed, Mr Fitzgibbon replied to Mr Curran 
 with much personality, and, among other things, 
 denominated him a puny babbler. The latter re- 
 torted by the following description of his oppo- 
 nent: " I am not a man whose respect in person 
 and character depends upon the importance of his 
 office ; I am not a young man who thrusts himself 
 into the fore-ground of a picture, which ought to 
 be occupied by a better figure ; I am not one who 
 replies with invective when sinking under the 
 weight of argument ; I am not a man who denies 
 the necessity of a parliamentary reform at the 
 time that he proves its expediency by reviling his 
 own constituents, the parish-clerk, the sexton, and 
 grave-digger ; and if there be any man who can 
 apply what I am not to himself, I leave him to 
 think of it in the committee, and contemplate upon 
 
 * Although Mr Curran appears here to have commenced hosti- 
 lities, it should be mentioned, that he was apprized of Mr Fitzgib- 
 bon's having given out in the ministerial circles that he should take 
 an opportunity during this debate, in which he knew that Mr Cur- 
 ran would take a part, of putting down the young patriot. The 
 Duchess of Rutland and all the ladies of the Castle were present 
 in the gallery to witness what Mr Curran called, in the course of 
 the debate^ " this exhibition by command."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 173 
 
 it when he goes home." The result of this nio;ht's 
 debate was a duel between Mr Curran and Mr 
 Fitzgibbon : after exchanging shots they separat- 
 ed, only confirmed in their feelings of mutual aver- 
 sion, of which some of the consequences will here- 
 after appear. 
 
 One of the public grievances, which the Irish 
 opposition frequently but vainly attempted to re- 
 dress, was the enormity of the pension list. On 
 the 13th of May in this year (1786), Mr Forbes 
 brought forward a motion upon the subject, which, 
 as usual, failed. A part of Mr Curran's speech 
 upon that occasion may be given as a specimen of 
 the lighter mode of attack to which he sometimes 
 resorted where he saw that gravity would have 
 been unavailing ; and it may be observed, that 
 this, like many more of the same kind, are histo- 
 rical documents, which arc perhaps the most de- 
 scriptive of the times. The very absence of seri- 
 ous remonstrance shews that serious remonstrance 
 had been exhausted, and that nothing remained 
 but that ridicule should take its vengeance upon 
 those whom argument could not reform.* 
 
 • Upon tills occasion, Mr Grattnn caused the pension list to he 
 read aloud by the clerk, and concluded his speech by saying, " If I 
 should vote that pensions are not a grievance, I sliould vote an in^ 
 pudtnt, an insolent, and a public lie."
 
 1 74 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 " I am surprised that gentlemen have taken up 
 such a foolish opinion as that our constitution is 
 maintained by its different component parts mu- 
 tually checking and controlling each other. They 
 seem to think, with Hobbes, that a state of nature 
 is a state of warfare, and that, like Mahomet's 
 coffin, the constitution is suspended, by the at- 
 traction of different powers. My friends seem to 
 think that the crown should be restrained from 
 doing wrong by a physical necessity, forgetting 
 that if you take away from a man all power to do 
 wrong, you at the same time take away from him 
 all merit of doing right; and by making it impos- 
 sible for men to run into slavery, you enslave them 
 most effectually. But if, instead of the three diffe- 
 rent parts of our constitution drawing forcibly in 
 right lines at opposite directions, they were to 
 unite their power and draw all one way, in one 
 right line, how great would be the effect of their 
 force, how happy the direction of this union ! 
 The present system is not only contrary to mathe- 
 matical rectitude, but to public harmony : but if, 
 instead of Privilege setting up his back to oppose 
 Pi'erogative, he was to saddle his back and invite 
 Prerogative to ride, hov/ comfortably might they 
 both jog along ; and therefore it deliglits me to
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 175 
 
 hear the advocates for the royal bounty flowing 
 freely, and spontaneously, and abundantly as 
 Holywell in Wales. If the crown grants double 
 the amount of the revenue in pensions, they ap- 
 prove of their royal master, for he is the breath 
 of their nostrils, 
 
 *' But we will find that this complaisance, this 
 gentleness between the crown and its true servants, 
 is not confined at home ; it extends its influence 
 to foreign powers. Our merchants have been in- 
 sulted in Portugal, our commerce interdicted. 
 What did the British lion do? Did he whet his 
 tusks ? Did he bristle up and shake his mane ? 
 Did he roar ? No, no such thing ; the gentle 
 creature wagged his tail for six years at the court 
 of Lisbon; and now we hear from the Delphic 
 oracle on the treasury bench, that he is wagging 
 his tail in London to Chevalier Pinto, who he 
 hopes soon to be able to tell us will allow his lady 
 to entertain him as a lap-dog; and when she does, 
 no doubt the British flactory will furnish some of 
 their softest woollens to make a cushion for him 
 to lie upon. But though the gentle beast has 
 continued so long fawning and couching, I believe 
 his vengeance will be great as it is slow, and that
 
 176 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 that posterity whose ancestors are yet unborn will 
 be surprised at the vengeance he will take. 
 
 " This polyglot of wealth, this museum of curi- 
 osities, the pension list, embraces every link in the 
 human chain, every description of men, women, 
 and children, from the exalted excellence of a 
 Havvke or a Rodney, to the debased situation of 
 a lady who humbleth herself that she may be ex- 
 alted. But the lessons it inculcates form its great- 
 est perfection. It teacheth that sloth and vice 
 may eat that bread which virtue and honesty may 
 starve for after they have earned it : it teaches 
 the idle and dissolute to look up for that support 
 which they are too proud to stoop and earn : it 
 directs the minds of men to an entire reliance 
 upon the ruling power of the state, who feeds the 
 ravens of the royal aviary that cry continually for 
 food : it teaches them to imitate those saints on 
 the pension list that are like the lilies of the field, 
 they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet are 
 arrayed like Solomon in his glory: in fine, it 
 teaches a lesson, which indeed they might have 
 learned from Epictetus, that it is sometimes good 
 not to be over virtuous ; it shews that in propor- 
 tion as our distresses increase, the munificence of 
 the crown increases also ; in proportion as our
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 177 
 
 clothes are rent, the royal mantle is extended over 
 us. 
 
 " But notwithstanding the pension list, like 
 charity, covers a multitude of sins, give me leave 
 to consider it as coming home to the members of 
 this liouse ; give me leave to say, that the crown, 
 in extending its charity, its liberality, its profu- 
 sion, is laying a foundation for the independence 
 of parliament ; for hereafter, instead of orators or 
 patriots accounting for their conduct to such mean 
 and unworthy persons as freeholders, they will 
 learn to despise them, and look to the first man 
 in the state ; and they will by so doing have this 
 security for their independence, that while any 
 man in the kingdom has a shilling they will not 
 want one. 
 
 " Suppose at any future period of time the 
 boroughs of Ireland should decline from their 
 present flourishing and prosperous state, — suppose 
 they should fall into the hands of men who would 
 wish to drive a profitable commerce by having 
 members of parliament to hire or let; in such a 
 case a secretary would find a great difficulty, if 
 the proprietors of members should enter into a 
 combination to form a monopoly. To prevent 
 which in time, the wisest way is to purchase up 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the raw material, young members of parliament 
 just rough from the grass ; and when they are a 
 little bitted, and he has got a pretty stud, perhaps 
 of seventy, he may laugh at the slave merchant. 
 Some of them he may teach to sound through the 
 nose like a barrel-organ ; some in the course of a 
 few months might be taught to cry, Hear ! hear ! 
 some, Chair ! chair ! upon occasion ; though these 
 latter might create a little confusion if they were 
 to forget whether they were calling inside or out- 
 side of these doors.* Again, he might have some 
 so trained, that he need only pull a string, and up 
 gets a repeating member ; and if they were so dull 
 that they could neither speak nor make orations 
 (for they are diiferent things), he might have them 
 taught to dance, pedibus ire in sententiam. This 
 improvement might be extended ; he might have 
 them dressed in coats and shirts all of one colour, 
 and of a Sunday he might march them to church, 
 two and two, to the great edification of the people, 
 and the honour of the Christian religion. After- 
 wards, like the ancient Spartans, or the fraternity 
 at Kilmainham, they might dine all together in a 
 
 * The principal stand of sedan chairs, a conveyance at that time 
 in common use, was outside the Parliament-House.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 179 
 
 large hall. Good Heaven ! what a sight to see 
 them feeding in public, upon public viands, and 
 talking of public subjects, for the benefit of the 
 public ! It is a pity they are not immortal ; but I 
 hope they will flourish as a corporation, and that 
 pensioners will beget pensioners to the end of the 
 chapter." 
 
 Mr Curran was now (1786) in full practice at 
 the bar. It may be acceptable to hear the man- 
 ner in w^hich he spoke himself of his increasing 
 celebrity. The following is an extract from one 
 of his private letters of this period. 
 
 " Patterson, Chief-justice of the common pleas, 
 has been given over many days, but still holds 
 out. My good friend Carleton* succeeds him. 
 Had he got this promotion some time ago, it 
 might have been of use to me, for I know he has 
 a friendship for me ; but at present his partiality 
 can add little to whatever advantage I can derive 
 from his leaving about four thousand a-year at the 
 bar. 
 
 " I understajid they have been puffing me off 
 to you from this (Dublin). I have been indeed 
 very much employed this term, and I find I have 
 
 * The present Lord Carleton.
 
 180 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the merit imputed to me of changing a determi- 
 nation which the Chancellor had formed against 
 Burroughs,* a few days ago. He has really 
 been uncommonly kind and polite to me. This, 
 I believe, is the first time I ever became my own 
 panegyrist, therefore excuse it : I should scarce- 
 ly mention it for any vanity of mine, if it were 
 not of some little value to others ; tot it up there- 
 fore on the table of pence, not on the scale of 
 vain-glory." . 
 
 His life at this time was passed in a uniform 
 succession of the same occupations, his profes- 
 sional and parliamentary duties. The intervals 
 of business he generally spent at Newmarket, 
 where he had taken a few acres of land, and built 
 a house, to which he gave the name of the Priory, 
 as the residence of the Prior of the Order of St 
 Patrick. In Dublin the reputation of his talents 
 and his convivial powers introduced him to every 
 circle to which he could desire to have access : 
 in the country he entered into all the sports and 
 
 * The present Sir William Burroughs, Bart, lately one of the 
 Judges of the supreme court of judicature at Calcutta. The cause 
 to which Mr Curran's letter alludes was that of Newberg and Bur- 
 roughs ; by his exertions in which he had acquired a considerable 
 accession of fame.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 181 
 
 manners of his less polished neighbours, with as 
 much ardour as if it was with them alone that he 
 had passed, and was to pass, his days. The or- 
 dinary routine of his profession took him twice 
 every year to Munster;* and among the many 
 
 * Upon one of these journeys, and about this period, as Mr 
 Curran was travelling upon an unfrequented road, he perceived a 
 man in a soldier's dress, sitting by the road- side, and apparently 
 much exhausted by fatigue and agitation. He invited him to take 
 a seat in his chaise, and soon discovered that he veas a deserter. 
 Having stopt at a small inn for refreshment, Mr Curran observed 
 to the soldier, that he had committed an offence of which the 
 penalty was death, and that his chance of escaping was but small : 
 " Tell me then, (continued he), whether you feel disposed to pass 
 the little remnant of life that is left you in penitence and fasting, or 
 whether you would prefer to drown your sorrow in a merry glass?" 
 The following is the deserter's answer, which Mr Curran, in com- 
 posing it, adapted to a plaintive Irish air. 
 
 1. 
 
 If sadly thinking, and spirits sinking, 
 
 Could more than drinking my cares compose, 
 A cure for sorrow from sighs I'd borrow, 
 
 And hope to-morrow would end my woes. 
 But since in wailing there's nought availing. 
 
 And fate unfailing will strike the blow. 
 Then for that reason, and for a season, 
 
 Let us be merry before wc go !
 
 182 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 attractions of that circuit, he always considered as 
 one of the greatest, the frequent opportunities it 
 gave him of visiting and spending some happy 
 hours with two of his oldest and dearest friends, 
 (once his college fellow-students), the Rev. Tho- 
 mas Crawford, of Lismore, and the Rev. Richard 
 Carey, of Clonmel ; both of them persons un- 
 known to fame, but both so estimable, as men, 
 and scholars, and companions, that his taste and 
 affections were perpetually recalling him to the 
 charms of their society. 
 
 It may not be a very dignified circumstance in 
 his history, yet it must be mentioned, that his 
 arrival at Newmarket was always considered there 
 as a most important event. Gibbon somewhere 
 observes, that one of the liveliest pleasures which 
 the pride of a man can enjoy, is to reappear in a 
 
 2. 
 
 To joy a stranger, a way-worn ranger. 
 
 In every danger my course I've run ; 
 Now hope all ending, and Death befriending, 
 
 His last aid lending, my cares are done : 
 No more a rover, or hapless lover. 
 
 Those cares are over, and my glass runs low ; 
 Then for that reason, and for a season, 
 
 Let us be merry before we go !
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 183 
 
 more splendid condition among those who had 
 known him in his obscurity. If Mr Curran had 
 been proud, he might have enjoyed this pleasure 
 to the full. Upon the occasion of every return to 
 the scene of his childhood, visits and congratula- 
 tions upon his increasing fame poured in upon 
 " the counsellor" from every side. " His visi- 
 tors," (according to his own description), " were 
 of each sex and of every rank, and their greetings 
 were of as many kinds. Some were delivered in 
 English, some in Irish, and some in a language that 
 was a sort of compromise between the two — some 
 w'ere communicated verbally — some by letter or by 
 deputy, the absentees being just at that moment 
 * in trouble,' which generally nieaned, having been 
 lately committed for isorae ' unintentional' mis- 
 demeanor, from the consequences of which, who 
 could extricate them so successfully as ' the coun- 
 sellor?' — some came in prose — some in all the 
 pomp of verse; for Mr O'Connor, the roving 
 bard, (of whom Mr Curran used to say, that if 
 his imagination could have carried him as far as 
 his legs did, he would have been the most asto- 
 nishing poet of the age), was never absent; at 
 whatever stage of their poetical circuit he and his 
 itinerant muse might be, the moment certain in-
 
 184< LIFE OF CURKAN. 
 
 telligence reached them that the master of the 
 Priory had arrived, they instantly took a short 
 cut across the country, and laid their periodical 
 offering at the feet of him whose high fortune 
 they had of course been the first to predict." 
 
 All these petty honours gratified his heart if 
 not his pride, and he never fastidiously rejected 
 them. Those who came from the mere ambition 
 of a personal interview he sent away glorying in 
 their reception, and delighted with his condescen- 
 sion and urbanity ; to those who seemed inclined 
 " to carry away any thing rather than an appe- 
 tite," he gave a dinner. The village disturber of 
 the peace had once more a promise that his rescue 
 should be effected at the ensuing assizes, while 
 the needy laureate seldom failed to receive the 
 " crotwn," which he had " long preferred to the 
 freshest laurels." * 
 
 * The poetry of the roving bard has by some accident perished ; 
 but his name is preserved in a short and unambitious specimen of 
 his favourite art. His muse at one time became so importunate, 
 that Mr Curran found it necessary to discourage her addresses ; in- 
 stead, therefore, of rewarding one of her efiFusions with the expected 
 donation, he sent the bard the following impromptu : 
 
 A collier once, in days of yore, 
 
 From fam'd Newcastle's mines, a store
 
 LIFE OF CURRA-N. 185 
 
 In the year 1787 Mr Curran visited France, a 
 country for whose literature and manners he had 
 
 Of coals had rais'd, and with the load 
 
 He straightway took Whitehaven road ; 
 
 When thither come, he look'd around, 
 
 And soon a ready chap he found ; 
 
 But after all his toil and pain. 
 
 He measur'd out his coals in vain, 
 
 For he got nought but coals again. 
 
 Thus Curran takes O'Connor's lays, 
 
 And with a verse the verse repays ; 
 
 Not verse indeed as good as thine, 
 
 Nor rais'd from such a genuine mine ; 
 
 But were it better, 'twere i|ftjVMn 
 
 To emulate O'Connor's strain. 
 
 Then take, my friend — and freely take, 
 
 The verseB for the poet's sake : 
 
 Yet one advice from me receive, 
 
 'Twill many vain vexations save; 
 
 Should, by strange chance, your muse grow poor, 
 
 Bid her ne'er seek a poet's door. 
 
 The disappointed bard retorted ; and his concluding verse, 
 
 If you're paid such coin for your law. 
 You'll ne'er be worth a single straw, 
 
 was felt to contain so important and undeniable a truth, that his 
 solicitations could be no longer resisted. These are trifles ; but the 
 subject of these pages gladly souglit relief in thcni, when satiated 
 with more splendid cares.
 
 186 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 had a very early predilection. The following let- 
 ters give an account of its first impressions on him ; 
 
 Mr Curran composed two other little poems, of a different de- 
 scription, about this time. The first of the following has been 
 praised, as possessing peculiar delicacy of thought, by the most ad- 
 mired poet that Ireland has produced. 
 
 ON RETURNING A RING TO A LADY. 
 
 Thou emblem of faith — thou sweet pledge of a passion. 
 By Heaven reserved for a happier than me, — 
 On the hand of my fair go resume thy lov'd station, 
 Go bask in the beam that is lavish'd on thee ! 
 And if, some past scene thy remembrance recalling. 
 Her bosom shall rise to the tear that is falling. 
 With the transport of love may no anguish combine. 
 But be hers all the bless— and the suffering all mine ! 
 
 Yet say, (to thy mistress ere yet I restore thee), 
 Oh say why thy charm so indifferent to me ? 
 To her thou art dear, — then should I not adore thee ? 
 Can the heart that is hers be regardless of thee ? 
 But the eyes of a lover, a friend, or a brother. 
 Can see nought in thee, but the flame of another ; 
 On me then thou'rt lost ; as thou never couldst prove 
 The emblem of faith or the token of love. 
 
 But, ah ! had the ringlet thou lov'st to surround — 
 Had it e'er kiss'd the rose on the cheek of my dear, 
 What ransom to buy thee could ever be found. 
 Or what force from my breast thy possession could tear ?
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 187 
 
 and, however carelessly written, their insertion 
 will be at least some relief to the harsher scenes of 
 political contention, which occupy so much of his 
 future history. 
 
 A mourner, a suff'rer, a wand'rer, a stranger — 
 
 In sickness, in sadness, in pain, and in danger, 
 
 Next my heart thou shouldst dwell till its last sigh were o'er,— . 
 
 Then together we'd sink — and I'd part thee no more. 
 
 ON MRS BILLINGTON'S BIRTH-DAY. 
 1. 
 
 The wTeath of love and friendship twine, 
 And deck it round with flo^v'rets gay, — 
 Paint the lip with rosy wine, 
 'Tis fair Eliza's natal day ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Old Time restrains his ruthless liand, 
 And learns one fav'rite form to spare : 
 Light o'er her tread, by his command, 
 The Hours, nor print a footstep there. 
 
 3. 
 
 In amorous sport the purple Spring 
 Salutes her cheek, in roses drest ; 
 And Winter laughs, and loves to fling 
 A flake of snow upon her breast.
 
 188 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 " Diej^pe, Friday, August 51. 1787. 
 
 " My last from Brighton told you I was setting 
 sail, — I did so about eight o'clock yesterday even- 
 ing, and, after a pleasant voyage, landed here this 
 day at twelve. To-morrow I set out for Rouen, 
 where 1 shall probably remain two or three days. 
 
 " I cannot say the first view of France has made 
 a very favourable impression on me. I am now 
 writing in the best lodging-room in the best inn of 
 Dieppe, I'Hotel de la Ville de Londres. Monsieur 
 de la Rue, the host, danced up to me on board 
 the packet, did every thing I wanted, and oifered 
 a thousand services that I had no occasion for. I 
 mounted to my present apartment by a flight of 
 very awkward stairs ; the steps, some of brick, 
 some of wood, but most of both. The room con- 
 tains two old fantastical chests of drawers, — a 
 table, on which I now write, — four chairs with 
 cane backs and bottoms, and a bed five feet from 
 the bricks that compose the floor (the first floor) ; 
 
 4. 
 
 So may thy days, in happiest pace, 
 Divine Eliza, glide along ! 
 Unclouded as thy angel face, 
 And sweet as thy celestial song !
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 189 
 
 the walls half covered with lime and half with 
 a miserable tapestry. I dined very well, however, 
 on a small fish like a trout, a beef-steak, and a 
 bottle of Burgundy, which the maid that attended 
 me would not admit to be ' chevalier.' 
 
 " I then walked out to see the town, and, God 
 knows, a sad sight it is : it seems to have been 
 once better, but it is now strength fallen into ruin, 
 and finery sunk into decay. It smote me with a 
 natural sentiment of the mortality of all human 
 things ; and I was led by an easy transition to 
 inquii'e for the churches. I inquired of a decent 
 looking man, who sat at a door knitting stockings, 
 and he with great civility stopped his needles, and 
 directed me to the church of St Jacques, having 
 first told me how fine it was, and how many years 
 it was built. It has a profusion of sculpture in it, 
 and I suspect not of the best kind ; however, the 
 solemnity of the whole made amends, and indeed 
 I think well might, for that deficiency, to me who 
 am so little a connoisseur in the matter. I could 
 not but respect the disinterestedness and piety of 
 our ancestors, who laboured so much to teach 
 posterity the mortality of man ; and yet, on turn- 
 ing the idea a little, I could not but suspect that 
 the vain-glory of the builders of pyramids and
 
 190 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 temples was no small incentive to their labours : 
 why else engrave the lesson of mortality in cha- 
 racters intended to endure for ever, and thus be- 
 come an exception to the rule they would esta- 
 blish ? But I am turning preacher instead of 
 traveller. 
 
 " I reserved the view of the inhabitants for the 
 last. Every nation, 'tis said, has a peculiar fea- 
 ture. I trust poor France shall not be judged of in 
 that point by Dieppe. I had expected to see some- 
 thing odd on my arrival, but I own I was unpre- 
 pared for what I met ; the day was warm, and per- 
 haps the better sort of people were all within. Many 
 hundreds were busy on the quays and streets, but 
 any thing so squalid, so dirty, and so ugly, I 
 really never saw. At some little distance I mis- 
 took the women for sailors, with long boddices, 
 and petticoats not completely covering their knees, 
 which I really took for trowsers ; however, on a 
 nearer view, I saw their heads covered with linen 
 caps, their beards unshaved, and perceived they 
 wore slippers with rather high heels ; by which, 
 notwithstanding the robust shape of their legs, 
 and their unusual strut, I ascertained their sex 
 sufficiently for a traveller.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 191 
 
 " I may say truly, I did not see a being this 
 day between the ages of fifteen and fifty. I own 
 I was therefore surprised to find that there were 
 children, for such I found to be a parcel of strange 
 little figures ; the female ones with velvet hoods, 
 and the male with their little curled heads covered 
 with woollen night-caps, regardless of the example 
 of their hardy old fathers, if they were not their 
 grandsires, who carried about heads without a hair 
 or a hat to protect them. 
 
 " In truth, 1 am at a loss to reconcile so many 
 contradictions as I have met with here even in a 
 few hours. Even though I should not mention 
 the height of their beds, nor the unwieldiness of 
 their carriages, as if the benefit of rest was reserv- 
 ed for vaulters and rope-dancers, and the indolent 
 and helpless only were intended to change their 
 place ; but perhaps those impressions are only the 
 first and the mistaken views of a traveller, that 
 ought to see more and reflect more before he forms 
 his opinions. I believe so too, antl, if I change or 
 correct them, the French nation shall have the 
 benefit of my change of opinion. If not, I hope 
 my mistake will not do much injury to the power, 
 or riches, or vanity of his most Christian Majesty. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 « J. P. C."
 
 192 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 A few days after, in a letter from Rouen, he 
 says, " I still find myself confirmed every day in 
 a preference for my own poor country. The so- 
 cial turn of this people certainly has the advan- 
 tage: their manners are wonderfully open and 
 pleasant ; but still, in every thing I have yet seen, 
 I have observed a strange medley of squalid finery 
 and beggarly ostentation, with a want of finishing 
 in every article of building and manufacture, that 
 marks them at least a century behind us. Yet 
 have they their pleasant points ; gay, courteous, 
 temperate, ill clothed, and ill accommodated, they 
 seem to have been negligent only in what regard- 
 ed themselves, and generously to have laboured 
 in what may render them agreeable to their visi- 
 tors." r; 
 
 As Mr Curran travelled on towards Paris, he 
 received a mark of public attention, for which he 
 was in a great measure indebted to his eloquent 
 defence of the Roman catholic priest already men- 
 tioned. His friend, the Rev. Arthur O'Leary, 
 (more generally called Father O'Leary), knowing 
 that he was to pass through a particular town, 
 wrote to the superior of a convent in the neigh- 
 bourhood, describing the traveller that was shortly 
 to arrive there, and requesting that so ardent a
 
 LIFE OF CURUAN. 193 
 
 friend of tlicir religion should be welcomed and 
 entertained with all courtesy and honour. Mr 
 Curran no sooner reached the place, than he re- 
 ceived a pressing invitation to take up his abode 
 at the convent. He accordingly proceeded thither, 
 and was met at the gates by the abbot and his 
 brethren in procession. The keys of the convent 
 were presented to him, and his arrival hailed in a 
 Latin oration, setting forth his praises, and their 
 gratitude for his noble protection of a suffering 
 brother of their church. 
 
 Their Latin was so bad, that the stranger with- 
 out hesitation replied in the same language. After 
 expressing his general acknowledgments for their 
 hospitality, he assured them, " that nothing could 
 be more gratifying to him than to reside for a 
 few days among them ; that he should feel him- 
 self perfectly at home in their society; for that he 
 was by no means a stranger to the lij^bits of a mo- 
 nastic life, being himself no less than the Prior of 
 an order in his own country, the order of St Pa- 
 trick, or the Monks of the Screw. Their fame, 
 he added, might never have reached the Abbot's 
 ears, but he would undertake to assert for them, 
 that, though the brethren of other orders might 
 be more celebrated for learning how to die, the 
 
 VOL. 1. o
 
 J 94 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 * Monks of the Screw' were as yet unequalled 
 for knowing how to live. As, however, humility 
 was their great tenet and uniform practice, he 
 would give an example of it upon the present oc- 
 casion, and instead of accepting all the keys which 
 the Abbot had so liberally offered, would merely 
 take charge, while he stayed, of the key of the 
 wine-cellar." 
 
 This little playful sally was accepted in the 
 same spirit of good humour with which it was 
 offered; and the traveller, after passing two or 
 three days with the Abbot, and pleasing every one 
 by his vivacity and conciliating manners, proceed- 
 ed on his journey, not without a most pressing 
 invitation to take advantage of any future occa- 
 sion of revisiting his friends at the convent. 
 
 The following is extracted from one of his let- 
 ters from Paris. 
 
 " Paris, Septemba- 15. 1787. 
 
 " I HAVE been all about the world with the 
 Carletons, visiting churches, libraries, pictures, 
 operas, &c. Yesterday we went to Versailles, 
 and, though a week-day, had the good luck to 
 see his Majesty at chapel, after which he went out 
 hunting; after which we viewed the palace, the
 
 ilFE OF CURRAN. 195 
 
 gardens, statues, &c. bought two pair of garters 
 at a pedlar's stall in an ante-chamber adjoining 
 the great gallery, and so returned to town. All 
 that could be seen even on a Sunday, besides, 
 would be the Queen, who would probably take 
 very little notice of her visitors ; so I shall pro- 
 bably, I think, go no more to Versailles. Mr 
 Boyse is perfectly well ; I have written to him 
 this day. My health, thank God, has been per- 
 fectly good since 1 came here, to which I suppose 
 the great temperance of this country has contri- 
 buted not a little. I am early as usual ; read, 
 write, dine, go to the coffee-house, the play, as 
 usual; one day now seems to be the former, and 
 I begin to be vexed at its beina* the model of the 
 next. Perhaps upon earth there cannot be found 
 in one city such a variety of amusements : if you 
 walk the Boulevards in the evening, you see at 
 least ten thousand persons employed in picking 
 the pockets of as many millions, reckoning players, 
 rope-dancers, jugglers, buffoons, bird-sellers, bear- 
 dancers, learned beasts, &c. Yet I begin to grow 
 satiated, and often wish for a more tranquil habi- 
 tation."
 
 196 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Among the traits of French manners, whicfi 
 Mr Curran upon his return related as having 
 greatly entertained him, was the following little 
 incident, which will be also found to be perfectly 
 characteristic of his own. 
 
 He was one evening sitting in a box at the 
 French Opera, between an Irish noblewoman 
 whom he had accompanied there, and a very 
 young Parisian female. Both the ladies were pe- 
 culiarly interesting in their appearance, and very 
 soon discovered a strong inclination to converse, 
 but unluckily each was ignorant of the other's 
 language. To relieve their anxiety, Mr Curran 
 volunteered to be their interpreter, or in his own 
 words, " to be the carrier of their thoughts, and 
 accountable for their safe delivery." They ac- 
 cepted the offer with delight, and immediately 
 commenced a vigorous course of observations and 
 inquiries upon dress and fashion, and such com- 
 mon-place subjects; but the interpreter, betray- 
 ing his trust, changed and interpolated so much, 
 that the dialogue soon became purely his own 
 invention. He managed it however with so 
 much dexterity, transmitting between the parties 
 so many finely turned compliments, and elegant 
 repartees, that the unsusjDccting ladies became
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 197 
 
 fascinated with each other. The Parisian demoi- 
 selle was in raptures with the wit and colloquial 
 eloquence of milady, whom she declared to be 
 jparfaitement aimahle ; while the latter protested 
 that she now for the first time felt the full charm 
 of French vivacity. At length, when their mu- 
 tual admiration was raised to its most ecstatic 
 height, the wily interpreter, in conveying some 
 very innocent question from his countrywoman, 
 converted it into an anxious demand, if she might 
 be favoured with a kiss. " Mais oui, mon Dieu, 
 oui !" cried out the animated French girl, " j'al- 
 lois le proposer moi-meme," and springing across 
 Mr Curran, imprinted an emphatic salutation, 
 according to the custom of her country, upon 
 each cheek of his fair companion ; and then turn- 
 ing to him, added, " vraiment, monsieur, madame 
 votre amie est un veritable ange." The latter 
 never discovered the deception, but after her re- 
 turn to Ireland used often to remind Mr Curran 
 of the circumstance, and ask, " what in the world 
 the young lady could have meant by such strange 
 conduct ?" to which he would only archly reply, 
 " Come, come, your ladyship must know that 
 there is but one thing in the world that it coidd
 
 198 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 have meancd, and the meaning of that is so lite- 
 ral, that it does not require a commentator." 
 
 The name of Mr Boyse occm-red in his last let- 
 ter; the friend of his childhood, between whom and 
 Mr Curran the most cordial intercourse continu- 
 ed until death dissolved it.* The delicacy of that 
 gentleman's health had obliged him to reside for 
 several years past upon the Continent, from which 
 he regularly corresponded with his former pupil. 
 One of his letters, written in this year, shall be in- 
 serted, as an example of the kind and confidential 
 feeling that pervades them all. 
 
 "TO J. P. CURRAN, Esq. 
 
 ELY-PLACE, DUBLIN. 
 
 " Bruxalks, Feb. 7. 1 787. 
 
 " Dear Jack, 
 
 " I HOPE my friend's affairs are going well, 
 and flourishing as when I left him ; mine, I sup- 
 pose, are in the last stage of consumption, so that 
 I almost dread to make inquiry about them. My 
 health has been so good this winter, that I came 
 from Aix here to escort a Mr Low and family, 
 my relations, who are on their road to England 
 
 * Mr Boyse died a few years after tlie present period.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 199 
 
 and Ireland. To-morrow, I return to Aix-la- 
 Chapelle for the remainder of the winter. I hope 
 you were paid the money I drew on you for, as I 
 must soon draw on you again for £.60. If I have 
 no funds at Newmarket, I shall write to Dick 
 Boyse to pay you, and shall always take care that 
 you shall be no sufferer by me. 
 
 " Let me hear how you go on, and what chance 
 you have of the bench. I wish you had realized 
 seven or eight hundred a-year for your family. 
 Is your health good, and your life regular ? I saw 
 Grattan and Fitzgibbon at Spa ; the former friend- 
 ly and agreeable, the latter disagreeable to every 
 one. I dined with him and Mr Orde, at a club 
 where we are members, but he was solemn and 
 displeasing to us all. My compliments to Grat- 
 tan, and his wife, and ask him for her on my part ; 
 she is very amiable. What is to become of us 
 with the White Boys ? If I am not an absolute 
 beggar, 1 will go home the latter end of the sum- 
 mer. How go on all your children ? An account 
 of yourself and them will give me pleasure. Witli 
 best wishes to you all, 
 
 " I am, dear Jack, 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " Nat. BoysE."
 
 200 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Mr Boyse came over to Ireland in the follow- 
 ing year. Upon the morning of his arrival in 
 Dublin, as he was on his way to Ely-Place, he 
 was met by his friend, who was proceeding in 
 great haste to the courts, and had only time to 
 welcome him, and bid him defer his visit till the 
 hour of dinner. Mr Curran invited a number 
 of the eminent men at the bar to meet Mr Boyse ; 
 and on returning home at a late hour from court, 
 with some of his guests, found the clergyman, still 
 in his travelling dress, seated in a familiar posture 
 at the fire, with a foot resting upon each side of 
 the grate. " Well, Jack," said he, turning round 
 his head, but never altering his position, " here 
 have I been for this hour past, admiring all the 
 fine things that I see around me, and wondering 
 where you could have got them all." " You 
 would not dare," returned Mr Curran, deeply 
 affected by the recollections which the observa- 
 tion called up, " to assume such an attitude, or 
 use so little ceremony, if you were not conscious 
 that every thing you see is your own. Yes, my 
 first and best of friends, it is to you that I am in- 
 debted for it all. The little boy whose mind you 
 formed, and whose hopes you animated, profiting 
 by your instructions, has risen to eminence and
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 201 
 
 affluence : but the work is yours ; what you see 
 is but the paltry stucco upon the building of 
 which you laid the foundation." 
 
 This year (1788) Mr Curran visited Holland, 
 from which he writes as follows. 
 
 " Helvoetsluys, August 1. 1788. 
 
 " Just landed, after a voyage of forty-two hours, 
 having left Harwich, Wednesday at six in the 
 evening. We are just setting out in a treckscuit 
 for Rotterdam. 
 
 " I can say little, even if I had time, of the 
 first impression that Holland makes on a travel- 
 ler. The country seems as if it were swimming 
 for its life, so miserably low does it appear ; and 
 from the little I have seen of its inhabitants, I 
 should not feel myself much interested in the event 
 of the struggle. We were obliged to put up an 
 orange cockade on our entrance. We have just 
 dined, and I am so disturbed by the settling of 
 the bill, and the disputes about guilders and sti- 
 vers, &c. that I must conclude. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " J. P. C."
 
 202 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 " Amsterdam, August B. ll&Z. 
 
 « You can't expect to find much entertainment 
 in any letter from Holland. The subject must 
 naturally be as flat as the country, in which, lite- 
 rally, there is not a single eminence three inches 
 above the level of the water, the greater part lying 
 much below it. We met Mr Hannay, a Scotch- 
 man, on the passage, who had set out on a similar 
 errand. We joined accordingly. A few moments 
 after my letter from Helvoetsluys was written, we 
 set out in a treckscuit for Rotterdam, where, af- 
 ter a voyage of twenty-four hours easy sail, we 
 arrived without any accident, notwithstanding 
 some struffele between an adverse wind and the 
 horse that drew us. We staid there only one 
 day, and next day set out for the Hague, a most 
 beautiful village, the seat of the Prince of Orange, 
 and the residence of most of the principal Dutch. 
 Yesterday we left it, and on going aboard found 
 four inhabitants of Rouen, and acquaintances of 
 my old friend Du Pont. We were extremely 
 amused with one of them, a little thing about four 
 feet long, and for the first time in his life a tra- 
 veller. He admired the abundance of the waters, 
 the beauty of the windmills, and the great opu-
 
 LIFE OF CURBAN. 203' 
 
 lencc of Holland, which he thought easy to be 
 accounted for, considering that strangers paid a 
 penny a mile for travelling, which was double 
 what a French gentleman was obliged to pay a:t 
 home ; nor could it otherwise be possible for so 
 many individuals to indulge in the splendour of 
 so many country villas as we saw ranged along 
 the banks of the canals, almost every one of which 
 had a garden and menagerie annexed. The idea 
 of the menagerie he cauffht at the instant from a 
 large poultry coop, which he spied at the front of 
 one of those little boxes, and which contained half 
 a dozen of turkeys and as many hens. 
 
 " The evening, yesterday, brought us to Am- 
 sterdam. We had an interpreter who spoke no 
 language. We knew not, under heaven, where 
 to go; spoke in vain to every fellow passenger, 
 but got nothing in return but Dutch ; among the 
 rest to a person in whom, notwithstanding the 
 smoke, I thought I saw something of English. 
 At length he came up to me, and said he could 
 hold out no longer. He directed us to an inn; 
 said he sometimes amused himself with concealing 
 his country, and that once at Rotterdam he car- 
 ried on the joke for five days, to the great annoy- 
 ance of some unfortunate Englishmen, who knew
 
 204? LIFE OF CURRAN. . 
 
 nobody, and dined every day at the table d'hote 
 he frequented. Last night we saw a French co- 
 medy and opera tolerably performed. This day 
 we spent in viewing the port, stadt-house, &c. and 
 shall depart to-morrow for Rotterdam or Utrecht, 
 on our way to Antwerp. 
 
 " You cannot expect much observation from a 
 visitor of a day : the impression, however, of a 
 stranger, cannot be favourable to the people. 
 They have a strange appearance of the cleanli- 
 ness for which they are famous, and of the dirt 
 that makes it necessary : their outsides only have 
 I seen, and I am satisfied abundantly with that. 
 Never shall I wish to return to a country, that is 
 at best dreary and unhealthy, and is no longer the 
 seat of freedom ; yet of its arbitrariness I have 
 felt nothing more than the necessity of wearing 
 an orange riband in my hat. My next will be 
 from Spa, where I hope to be in six or seven 
 days : till then farewell. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 « J. P. C."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 20i 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 His Majesty's illness — Communicated to the Housa of Commons 
 — Mr Curran's speech upon the address— Regency question- 
 Formation of the Irish Whig opposition — Mr Curran's speech 
 and motion upon the division of the boards of stamps and ac- 
 counts — Answered by Sir Boyle Roche^Mr Curran's reply — 
 Correspondence and duel with Major Hobart — EflFects of Lord 
 Clare's enmity — Alderman Howison's case. 
 
 The year 1789 was in many respects one of the 
 most interesting and important in Mr Curran's 
 life. From his entrance into parliament he had 
 hitherto been chiefly engaged in an occasional 
 desultory resistance to the Irish administration, 
 rather acting with, than belonging to the party in 
 opposition ; but in this year a momentous ques- 
 tion arose, in the progress and consequences of 
 which, there was such a development of the sys- 
 tem by which Ireland was in future to be govern- 
 ed, that he did not hesitate to fix his political 
 destiny for ever, by irrevocably connecting him- 
 self with those whose efforts alone he thought 
 could save their country. His late Majesty's 
 afflicting indisposition had taken place towards
 
 .£06 .LIFE OF eURRAN. 
 
 the close of the year 1788. It is known to 
 all, that upon the announcement of that melan- 
 choly event, the British parliament proceeded 
 to nominate His Royal Highness the Prince of 
 Wales regent, under particular limitations and 
 ■restrictions ; a mode of proceeding which the Irish 
 'ministry were peculiarly anxious that the Irish 
 parliament should studiously imitate. For this 
 purpose great exertions were made to secure a 
 majority. To Mr Curran it was communicated, 
 that his support of the government would be re- 
 warded with a judge's place, and with the even- 
 tual prospect of a peerage ; but he was among 
 those who considered it essential to the dignity of 
 the parliament, and the interests of Ireland, that 
 the heir apparent should be invited by address to 
 assume the full and unrestricted exercise of the 
 regal functions ; and fortunately for his fame, he 
 had too much respect for his duties and his cha)- 
 racter, to sacrifice them to any considerations of 
 personal advancement. 
 
 The Irish administration had been anxious to 
 defer the meeting of the legislature until the whole 
 proceedings respecting the regency should be com- 
 pleted in England, in the hope that the conduct 
 pursued by the British parliament might be fol-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 207 
 
 lowed as a precedent in Ireland ; but the urgen- 
 cies of the public business not admitting so long 
 a delay, the session was opened on the 5th of 
 February 1789, by the viceroy (the Marquis of 
 Buckingham), when the king's illness was for the 
 first time foi'mally announced to the country. On 
 the following day, in the debate on the address of 
 thanks, his excellency's late conduct was made the 
 subject of much severe animadversion. Upon that 
 occasion Mr Curran spoke as follows : 
 
 *' I oppose the address,* as an address of delay. 
 I deeply lament the public calamity of the king's 
 indisposition : it is not so welcome a tale to me as 
 to call for any thanks to the messenger that brings 
 it. Instead of thanks for communicating it now, 
 it should be resented as an outrage upon us that 
 he did not communicate it before. As to thanks 
 for his wishes for Ireland, it is a strange time for 
 the noble marquis to call for it. I do not wish 
 
 * One of the paragraphs of the address upon which the debate 
 arose was the following : — " We return your excellency our sincere 
 thanks (however we must lament the necessity of such a circum- 
 stance) for ordering the communication of such documents as you 
 have received respecting his Majesty's health ; as well as for your 
 intention of laying before us such further information as may assist 
 our deliberations upon that melancholy event"
 
 208 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 that an untimely vote of approbation should mix 
 with the voice of a people's lamentation : it is a 
 picture of general mourning, in which no man's 
 vanity ought to be thrust in as a figure. But if it 
 is pressed, what are his pretensions ? One gen- 
 tleman (Mr Boyd) has lost hundreds a-year by 
 his arts, and defends him on that ground ; another 
 (Mr Corry) praises his economy for increasing sa- 
 laries in the ordnance — the economy of the noble 
 lord is then to be proved only by public or by 
 private losses. Another right honourable gentle- 
 man (the attorney-general) has painted him as a 
 man of uncouth manners, much addicted to vulgar 
 arithmetic, and therefore entitled to praise. But 
 what have his calculations done ? They have 
 discovered that a dismounted trooper may be 
 stript of his boots, as a public saving, or that 
 a mutilated veteran might be plundered of half 
 the pittance of his coals, as a stoppage for that 
 wooden leg, which perhaps the humane marquis 
 might consider as the most proper fuel to keep 
 others warm. 
 
 " But a learned gentleman (Mr Wolfe) has 
 defended the paragraph, as in fact meaning no- 
 thing at all. I confess I find the a2)peal to the 
 compassion of the public stronger than that to
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 209 
 
 tlvcir justice. I feel for the reverses of human 
 fate. I remember this very supplicant for a com- 
 pliment, to which he pretends only because it is 
 no compHment, drawn into this city by the people, 
 harnessed to his chariot, through streets blazinnr 
 with illuminations ; and now, after more than a 
 year's labour at computation, he has hazarded on 
 a paragraph stating no one act of private or of 
 pubHc good ; supported by no man that says he 
 loves him ; defended, not by an assertion of his 
 merit, but by an extenuation of his delinquency. 
 
 " For my part, I am but little averse to ac- 
 cede to the sentiment of an honourable friend 
 who observed, that he was soon to leave us, 
 and that it was harsh to refuse him even a 
 smaller civility than every predecessor for a cen- 
 tury had got. As for me, 1 do not oppose 
 his being borne away from us in the common 
 hearse of his political ancestors ; I do not wish 
 to pluck a single faded plume from the canopy, 
 nor a single rag of velvet that might flutter 
 on the pall. Let us excuse his manners, if he 
 could not help them ; let us pass by a little pecu- 
 lation, since, as an honourable member says, it 
 was for his brother; and let us I'ejoice tliat his 
 kiudrcd were not more numerous. But I cannot 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 agree with my learned friend who defends the 
 conduct of the noble lord, on the present occasion. 
 The viceroy here, under a party that had taken a 
 peculiar line in Great Britain, should not have 
 availed himself of his trust to forward any of their 
 measures: he should have considered himself bound 
 by duty and by delicacy to give the people the ear- 
 liest notice of their situation, and to have religi- 
 ously abstained from any act that could add to the 
 power of his party, or embarrass any administra- 
 tion that might succeed him. Instead of that, he 
 abused his trust by proroguing the two Houses, 
 and has disposed of every office that became vacant 
 in the interval, besides reviving others that had 
 been dormant for years. Yet the honourable mem- 
 ber says he acted the part of a faithful steward. I 
 know not what the honourable member's idea of a 
 good steward is ; I will tell him mine. A good 
 steward, if his master was visited by infirmity or 
 by death, would secure every article of his effects 
 for his heir ; he would enter into no conspiracy 
 with his tenants ; he would remember his bene- 
 factor, and not forget his interest. 1 will also 
 tell him my idea of a faithless, unprincipled stew- 
 ard. He would avail himself of the moment of 
 family distraction ; while the filial piety of the son
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 211. 
 
 was attending the sick-bed of the father, or mourn- 
 ing over his grave, the faithless steward would 
 turn the melancholy interval to his private profit ; 
 he would remember his own interest, and forget 
 his benefactor; he would endeavour to oblite- 
 rate or conceal the title-deeds ; to promote cabals 
 among the tenants of the estate, he would load it 
 with fictitious encumbrances ; he would reduce it 
 to a wreck, in order to leave the plundered heir no 
 resource from beggary except continuing him in a 
 trust which he had been vile enough to betray. 
 I shall not appropriate either of these portraits 
 to any man : I hope most earnestly that no man 
 may bo found in the community, whose con- 
 science would acknowledge the resemblance of 
 the latter. 
 
 *' I do not think the pitiful compliment in the 
 address worthy a debate or a division : if any gen- 
 tleman has a mind to stigmatize the object of it by 
 a poor, hereditary, unmeaning, unmerited pane- 
 gyric, let it pass; but I cannot consent to a delay 
 at once so dangerous and so disgraceful." 
 
 The opj)Osition proved upon this occasion the 
 stronger party : Mr Grattan's proposal, that the 
 11th of February should be fixed for taking into 
 consideration the state of the nation was carried,
 
 212 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 against the exertions of the ministry to postpone 
 that important discussion to a more distant day. 
 On the 11th accordingly both Houses met; when, 
 upon the motion of Mr Grattan in the one, and 
 of Lord Charlemont in the other, the address to 
 the Prince of Wales, requesting his royal high- 
 ness to take upon himself the government of Ire- 
 land, with the style and title of prince regent, and 
 in the name and behalf of his majesty to exercise 
 all regal functions during his majesty's indispo- 
 sition, was carried by large majorities in both 
 Houses. 
 
 The particulars of the debate in the House of 
 Commons upon this interesting subject, in which 
 Mr Curran bore a distinguished part, would be 
 superfluous in this place, as the legislative union 
 has for ever prevented the recurrence of such a 
 question ; it will be suflicient merely to observe, 
 that the Whig majority who planned and carried 
 the measure of an address were influenced by two 
 leading considerations. In the first place, it seem- 
 ed to them that the proceeding by address was the 
 only one which would not compromise the inde- 
 Jiendence of the Irish parliament. They con- 
 ceived the present situation of Ireland as similar 
 in many respects to that of England at the period
 
 LIFE OF CUnRAN. 213 
 
 of the Revolution : the throne, indeed, was not 
 actually vacant, but an efficient executive was 
 wanting; and upon the same principle that the two 
 Houses in England had, of their own authority, 
 proceeded to supply the vacancy by the form of 
 an address to the Prince of Orange, so it ap- 
 peared should those of Ireland (an equally in- 
 dependent legislature) pi'ovide for the deficiency 
 of their third estate in the present instance. This 
 line of conduct was strenuously opposed by the 
 attorney-general (Mr Fitzgibbon) ; but the strong- 
 est of his arguments were rather startling than con- 
 vincing, and made but little impression upon the 
 majority, who justly felt that a great constitutional 
 proceeding upon an unforeseen emergency should 
 not be impeded by any narrow, technical objec- 
 tions, even though they had been more unanswer- 
 able than those adduced upon this occasion,* 
 
 • The following was one of Mr Fitzgibbon's arguments : " Let 
 me now for a moment suppose, that we, in the dignity of our in- 
 dependence, appoint a regent for Ireland, being a different person 
 from the regent of England, a case not utterly impossible, if the 
 gentlemen insist upon our appointing the Prince of Wales before 
 it shall be known whether he will accept tlie regency of England ; 
 and suppose we should go farther, and desire him to give the royal 
 assent to bills, he would say, ♦ My good people of Ireland, you
 
 214' LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Next to supporting the dignity of the Irish par- 
 liament, the Whig leaders of 1789 were actuated 
 by the prospects of advantage to Ireland, which 
 they anticipated from the change of administra- 
 tion and of system that were expected to follow 
 their exertions. They were anxious to invest the 
 heir-apparent with the most unrestrained regal 
 authority, in the fullest confidence that the bene- 
 
 have, by your own law, made the great seal of England absolutely 
 and essentially necessary to be affixed to each bill before it passes 
 in Ireland ; that seal is in the hands of the chancellor of England, 
 who is a very sturdy fellow ; that chancellor is an officer under 
 the regent of England ; I have no manner of authority over him ; 
 and so, my very good people of Ireland, you had better apply to 
 the regent of England, and request that he will order the chancel- 
 lor of England to affix the great seal of England to your bills; 
 otherwise, my very good people of Ireland, I cannot pass them.' " 
 *' This," said Mr Curran, in his observations upon this argu- 
 ment, *' is taking seals for crowns, and baubles for sceptres ; it is 
 worshipping wafers and wax in the place of a king ; it is substi- 
 tuting the mechanical quibble of a practising lawyer, for the sound 
 deduction of a philosopher standing on the vantage ground of 
 science; it is more like the language of an attorney particular than 
 an attorney-general ; it is that kind of silly fatuity that on any 
 other subject I should leave to be answered by silence and con- 
 tempt; but when blasphemy is uttered against tlie constitution, it 
 shall not pass under its insignificance, because the essence should 
 be reprehended, though the dortrinc cannot make a proselyte."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 215 
 
 fits on which they calculated would be commen- 
 surate with the power to confer them. How far 
 these sanguine hopes would have been realized, 
 how far the measures of a ministry listening to the 
 counsel of Mr Fox could have healed the existin<r 
 discontents, or have prevented the calamities that 
 succeeded, must now be matter of controversial 
 speculation, liis majesty's health having been for- 
 tunately restored before the arrangements regard- 
 ing the regency were yet concluded. 
 
 Although the conduct of the Irish House of 
 Commons at this important crisis has been gene- 
 rally adduced as a proof of the dangerous spirit 
 of independence that pervaded that assembly, and 
 therefore insisted on as an argument for a legis- 
 lative union ; yet, were it now worth while to ex- 
 amine the subject, it would not be difficult to shew 
 that the crowd who on that occasion so zealously 
 volunteered their support of the opposition, were 
 influenced by far other motives than a lofty sense 
 of their own and their country's dignity ; and 
 that, however the English government might, at 
 some rare conjuncture, be embarrassed by their 
 versatility, it had nothing to apprehend from 
 their patriotic virtue. No sooner was it ascer- 
 tained that the cause which they had lately
 
 216 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 spoused was to be unattended with emolument, 
 than they returned in repentance to their former 
 tenets ; and incontestably did they prove in their 
 subsequent life the extent and the sincerity of 
 their contrition. 
 
 There were a few, however, who would upon 
 no terms continue their support of the Irish ad- 
 ministration ; they lost their places, which they 
 might have retained, and, joining the opposition, 
 adhered to it with undeviating and " desperate 
 fidelity," as long as the. Irish parliament conti- 
 nued to exist.* 
 
 It has been seen in the preceding pages, that 
 
 * Among these were Mr George Ponsonby, and his brother, the 
 late Lord Ponsonby; and in the Upper House, the Duke of 
 Leinster. In a letter to Mr Grattan, Mr Curran thus alludes to 
 the formation of the last opposition in the Irish Parliament : " You 
 well remember the state of Ireland in 1789, and the necessity 
 under which we found ourselves of forming some bond of honour- 
 able connexion, by which the co-operation of even a small number 
 might be secured, in making some effort to stem that torrent which 
 was carrying every thing before it. For that purpose our little 
 party was then formed ; it consisted of yourself, the late Duke of 
 Leinster, that excellent Irishman the late Lord Ponsonby, Mr 
 George Ponsonby, Mr Daly, Mr Forbes, and some very few 
 others. It may not be for us to pronounce encomiums upon it, 
 but we are entitled to say, that had it been as successful as it was 
 honest, we might now look back to it with some degree of satis- 
 faction."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 217 
 
 the zeal with which Mr Curran performed his 
 public duties had already twice endangered his 
 life: in the beginning of the year 1790 it was 
 again exposed to a similar risk. If his duel with 
 the Irish secretary, Major Hobart,* (now alluded 
 to) had been the consequence of accidental intem- 
 perance of language or conduct on either side, 
 the account of it should be hastily dismissed ; but 
 such was not its character. The circumstances 
 that preceded it are peculiarly illustrative of the 
 condition of the times, of the state of the Irish 
 House of Commons, of the manner in which that 
 state rendered it incumbent upon an honest sena- 
 tor to address it, and of the dangers that attended 
 him who had the boldness to perform his duty. 
 
 In the month of February 1790, Mr Curran 
 (pursuant to the determination of the opposition to 
 expose, in a series of motions, the profuse expen- 
 diture of the Irish government) made the following 
 speech in that House: independent of the other 
 reasons for^ which it is here inti-oduced, it may 
 be offered as among the most favourable examples 
 of his parliamentary oratory. 
 
 " 1 rise with that deep concern and melancholy 
 hesitation, which a man must feel who docs not 
 
 • The late Lord Buckinghamshiri;.
 
 218 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 know whether he is addressing an independent 
 parliament, the representatives of the people of 
 Ireland, or whether he is addressing the represen- 
 tatives of corruption : I rise to make the experi- 
 ment ; and I approach the question with all those 
 awful feelings of a man who finds a dear friend 
 prostrate and wounded on the ground, and who 
 dreads lest the means he should use to recover 
 him may only serve to show that he is dead and 
 gone for ever. I rise to make an experiment 
 upon the representatives of the people, whether 
 they have abdicated their trust, and have become 
 the paltry representatives of Castle influence : it is 
 to make an experiment on the feelings and pro- 
 bity of gentlemen, as was done on a great person- 
 age, when it was said ' Thou art the man.' It is 
 not a question respecting a paltry viceroy; no, it 
 is a question between the body of the country and 
 the administration; it is a charge against the go- 
 vernment for opening the batteries of corruption 
 against the liberties of the people. The grand 
 inquest of the nation are called on to decide this 
 charge ; they are called on to declare whether they 
 would appear as the prosecutors or the accomplices 
 of corruption : for though the question relative to 
 the division of the Boards of Stamps and Accounts
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 219 
 
 is in itself of little importance, yet will it devclope 
 a system of corruption tending to the utter de- 
 struction of Irish liberty, and to the separation 
 of the connexion with England. 
 
 " Sir, I bring forward an act of the meanest 
 administration that ever disgraced this country. 
 I bring it forward as one of the threads by which, 
 united with others of similar texture, the vermin 
 of the meanest kind have been able to tie down a 
 Ijody of strength and importance. Let me not be 
 supposed to rest here; when the murderer left the 
 mark of his bloody hand upon the wall, it was not 
 the trace of one finger, but the whole impression 
 which convicted him.* 
 
 " The board of accounts was instituted in Lord 
 Townshend's administration : it came forward in 
 a manner rather inauspicious ; it was questioned 
 in parliament, and decided by the majority of the 
 five members who had received places under it. 
 Born in corruption, it could only succeed by ve- 
 
 • The allusion here is probably to a little story popular among 
 children in Ireland, which states that the murderer, intending to 
 cover the whole ruark with dust, left that of one finger unconceal- 
 ed ; but that he continued firmly to protest his innocence, until 
 the removal of the dust convicted him, by displaying an impres- 
 sion corresponding exactly with the size of his hand. A similar 
 circumstance is introduced in an old Spanish play.
 
 220 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 nality. It continued an useless board until the 
 granting of the stamp duties in Lord Harcourt's 
 time : the management of the stamps was then 
 committed to it, and a solemn compact was made 
 that the taxes should not be jobbed, but that 
 both departments should be executed by one 
 board. So it continued till it was thought neces- 
 sary to increase the salaries of the commissioners 
 in the Marquis of Buckingham's famous adminis- 
 tration ; but then nothing was held sacred : the 
 increase of the revenue board, the increase of the 
 ordnance, thirteen thousand pounds a-year added 
 to the infamous pension list, these were not suffi- 
 cient, but a compact which should have been held 
 sacred was violated, in order to make places for 
 members of parliament. How indecent ! two 
 county members prying into stamps ! What could 
 have provoked this insult ? I will tell you : you 
 remember when the sceptre was trembling in the 
 hand of an almost expiring monarch ; when a 
 factious and desperate English minister attempted 
 to grasp it, you stood up against the profanation 
 of the English, and the insult oiFered to the Irish 
 crown ; and had you not done it, the union of the 
 empire would have been dissolved. You remem- 
 ber this ; remember then yourselves — remember
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 221 
 
 your triumph : it was that triumph which ex- 
 posed you to submit to the resentment of the vice- 
 roy ; it was that triumph which exposed you to 
 disgrace and flagellation. In proportion as you 
 rose by union, your tyrant became appalled ; but 
 when he divided, he sunk you, and you became 
 debased. How this has happened no man could 
 imagine ; no man could have suspected, that a 
 minister without talents could have worked your 
 ruin. There is a pride in a great nation that 
 fears not its destruction from a reptile ; yet is 
 there more than fable in what we are told of the 
 Romans, that they guarded the Palladium, rather 
 against the subtlety of a thief, than the force of 
 an invader. 
 
 " I bring forward this motion, not as a question 
 of finance, not as a question of regulation, but as 
 a penal inquiry ; and the people will now see 
 whether they are to hope for help within these 
 walls, or, turning their eyes towards Heaven, they 
 are to depend on God and their own virtue. I 
 rise in an assembly of three hundred persons, one 
 hundred of whom have places or pensions; I rise 
 in an assembly, one-third of whom have their cars 
 sealed against the complaints of the people, and 
 their eyes intently turned to their own interest : I
 
 222 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 rise before the whisperers of the treasury, the bar- 
 gainers and runners of the Castle ; I address an 
 audience before whom was held forth the doctrine, 
 that the crown ought to use its influence on this 
 House. It has been known that a master has been 
 condemned, by the confession of his slave drawn 
 from him by torment; but here the case is plain : 
 this confession was not made from constraint ; it 
 came from a country gentleman, deservedly high 
 in the confidence of administration, for he gave 
 up other confidence to obtain theirs. 
 
 " I know I am speaking too plain ; but which 
 is the more honest physician, he who lulls his 
 patient into a fatal security, or he who points out 
 the danger and the remedy of the disease ? 
 
 " I should not be surprised if bad men of great 
 talents should endeavour to enslave a people; but, 
 when I see folly uniting with vice, corruption with, 
 imbecility, men without talents attempting to over- 
 throw our liberty, my indignation rises at the pre-' 
 sumption and audacity of the attempt. That such 
 men should creep into power, is a fatal symptom 
 to the constitution; the political, like the material 
 body, when near its dissolution, often bursts out 
 in swarms of vermin. 
 
 " In this administration a place may be found
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 223 
 
 for every bad man, whether it be to distribute the 
 wealth of the treasury, to vote in the House, to 
 whisper and to bargain, to stand at the door and 
 note the exits and entrances of your members, to 
 mark whether they earn their wages — whether it 
 be for the hirelinjr who comes for his hire, or for 
 the drunken aid-de-camp who swaggers in a bro- 
 thel ; nay, some of them find their way to the 
 treasury-bench, the political musicians or hurdy- 
 gurdy-men, to pipe the praises of the viceroy. 
 
 " Yet notwithstanding the profusion of govern- 
 ment, I ask, what defence have they made for the 
 country, in case it should be invaded by a foreign 
 foe? They have not a single ship on th.e coast. 
 Is it then the smug aid-de-camp, or the banditti 
 of the pension-list, or the infantine statesmen who 
 play in the sun-shine of the Castle, that are to 
 defend the country? No, it is the stigmatized 
 citizens. We are now sitting in a comitry of four 
 millions of people, and our boast is, that they are 
 cTovcrned by laws to which themselves consent ; 
 but are not more than three millions of the people 
 excluded from any participation in making those 
 laws ? In a neighbouring country, twenty-four 
 millions of people were governed by laws to which 
 their consent was never asked ; but we have seen
 
 224- LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 them struggle for freedom — in this struggle they 
 have burst tlieir chains, and on the altar erected 
 by despotism to public slavery, they have enthron- 
 ed the image of public liberty. 
 
 " But are our people merely excluded? No, 
 they are denied redress. Next to the adoration 
 which is due to God, I bend in reverence to the 
 institutions of that religion, which teaches me to 
 know his divine goodness ! But what advantage 
 does the peasant of the south receive from the in- 
 stitutions of religion ? Does he experience the 
 blessing? No, he never hears the voice of the 
 shepherd, nor feels the pastoral crook, but when 
 it is entering his flesh, and goading his very soul. 
 
 " In this country, sir, our King is not a resi- 
 dent ; the beam of royalty is often reflected through 
 a medium, which sheds but a kind of disastrous 
 twilight, serving only to assist robbers and plun- 
 derers. We have no security in the talents, or 
 responsibility of an Irish ministry ; injuries which 
 the English constitution would easily repel, may 
 here be fatal. I therefore call upon you to exert 
 yourselves, to heave off" the vile encumbrances that 
 have been laid upon you. I call you, not as to a 
 measure of finance or regulation, but to a crimi- 
 nal accusation, which you may follow with pu-
 
 LIFE OF CUURAN. 225 
 
 nishment. I therefore, sir, most humbly move : 
 — " That an humble address be presented to his 
 Majesty, praying that he will order to be laid be- 
 fore this House the particulars of the causes, con- 
 sideration, and representations, in consequence of 
 which the boards of stamps and accounts have 
 been divided with an increase of salary to the of- 
 ficers ; also that he will be graciously pleased to 
 communicate to this House the names of the per- 
 sons who recommended that measure." 
 
 To this speech, containing charges so grave 
 and direct, and so demanding an equally solemn 
 refutation, if they were refutable, it is curious to 
 observe the style of answer that was made. When 
 appeals of this nature are received with contumely 
 and mockery, it is perhaps among the most cer- 
 tain signs, that the legislature which can tolerate 
 such a practice has completely survived its virtue. 
 
 Sir B. Roche. — " Though I am in point of 
 consequence the smallest man amongst the re- 
 spectable majority in this House, yet I cannot 
 help feeling the heavy shower of the honourable 
 gentleman's illiberal and unfounded abuse. 
 
 " If I had the advantafje of beine; bred to the 
 learned profession of the law, I should be the 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 226 LIFE OF CURUAN. 
 
 better enabled to folio wthe honourable gentleman 
 through the long whidings of his declamation ; 
 by such means I should be blessed with " the gift 
 of the gabi^ and could declaim for an hour or two 
 upon the turning of a straw, and yet say nothing 
 to the purpose; then I could stamp and stare, and 
 rend and tear, and look up to the gods and god- 
 desses for approbation. Then, in the violence of 
 such declamation, I should suppose myself stand- 
 ing at the head of my shop, (at the bar of the 
 King's-bench), dealing out my scurrility by the 
 yard to the highest bidder ; my shop being well 
 stored with all sorts of masquerade dresses, to 
 «uit all descriptions of persons. The Newgate 
 criminal (if I was well paid for it), I would dress 
 up in the flowing robes of innocence. The inno- 
 cent man (being also well paid for it), I could 
 cover him up in a cloak of infamy, that should 
 stick as close to him as his regimentals. 
 
 " I am sorry to find that the military character 
 does not seem to meet with the honourable gentle- 
 man's approbation. I profess myself to have had 
 the honour to be bred a soldier, and if there is any 
 thing amiable or praise-worthy in my character, 
 I am entirely indebted to that school for it. If 
 indeed I was bred a pettifogger, or a Newgate
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 227 
 
 solicitor, I should be the better enabled to follow 
 the learned gentleman through the variety of mat- 
 ter which he has introduced to the House, My 
 right honourable friend,f upon the floor, is ani- 
 madverted on and abused, because he is a soldier ; 
 but let me tell the honourable gentleman below 
 me, that the high ground of his honour and cha- 
 racter places him above the reach of his envenomed 
 shafts, bearded with envy, hatred, and malice. 
 *#***» 
 
 The viceroy of this country is surrounded by 
 military gentlemen of the first families in both 
 kingdoms ; they are supposed to be out of the 
 line of all politics, yet the indecent and disre- 
 spectful manner in which they are, on this 
 occasion, held out in this House, does, in my 
 apprehension, deserve the severest censure. I 
 would, however, recommend it to the honourable 
 gentleman to stop a little in his career of general 
 abuse of men, who cannot be here to answer for 
 themselves ; lest those gentlemen (who never of- 
 fended him), might speak to him on the subject in 
 another place. Oh, shame I shame ! shame and 
 reprobation on such behaviour !" 
 
 f Major riobart.
 
 228 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 After a long debate, Mr Curran replied, and 
 concluded with the following observations upon 
 Sir Boyle Roche's language. 
 
 " We have been told this night in express 
 words, that the man who dares to do his duty to 
 his country in this House may expect to be attack- 
 ed without those walls by the military gentlemen 
 of the Castle. If the army had been directly or 
 indirectly mentioned in the course of the debate, 
 this extraordinary declaration might be attributa- 
 ble to the confusion of a mistaken charge, or an 
 absurd vindication ; but without connexion with 
 the subject, or pretence of connexion with the sub- 
 ject, a new principle of government is advanced, 
 and that is the bayonet ; and this is stated in the 
 fullest house, and the most crowded audience I 
 ever saw. We are to be silenced by corruption 
 within, or quelled by force of arms without. Nor 
 is it necessary that those avowed principles of bri- 
 bery and arms should come from any high perso- 
 nal authority ; they have been delivered by the 
 known retailers of administration, in the face of 
 that bench, and heard even without a murmur of 
 dissent or disapprobation. As to my part, I do 
 not know how it may be my destiny to fall ; it 
 may be by chance, or malady, or violence ; but
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 229 
 
 should it be my fate to perish the victim of a bold 
 and honest discharge of my duty, I will not shun 
 it. I will do that duty, and if it should expose 
 me to sink under the blow of the assassin, and 
 become a victim to the pubUc cause, the most sen- 
 sible of my regrets would be, that on such an altar 
 there should not be immolated a more illustrious 
 sacrifice. As to myself, while I live, I shall des- 
 pise the peril. I feel, in my own spirit, the safety 
 of my honour, and in my own and the spirit of 
 the people do I feel strength enough to hold that 
 administration, which can give a sanction to me- 
 naces like these, responsible for their consequences 
 to the nation and the individual:^ 
 
 Mr Curran had soon occasion to act upon this 
 declaration. In a few days subsequent to the 
 preceding debate, he was openly insulted by a 
 person belonging to one of those classes, upon 
 which he had accused the administration of squan- 
 dering the public money. He accordingly deput- 
 ed one of his friends, Mr Egan, to acquaint the 
 Secretary with the outrage that had been com- 
 mitted on him, in consequence of what he had 
 asserted in the House of Commons, and to express 
 his expectation, " that Major Hobart would mark 
 his sense of such an indignity offered to a member
 
 230 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 of parliament by one of his official servants, in the 
 dismissal of the man from his service." To this 
 application Major Hobart replied, that " he had 
 no power to dismiss any man from the service of 
 government ;" and after referring Mr Curran to 
 the House of Commons, as the tribunal before 
 which he should complain of any breach of his 
 privileges, expressed his surprise, " that any appli- 
 cation should have been made to him upon the 
 occasion of an outrage committed by a person who 
 was as much a stranijer to him as he could be to 
 Mr Curran." Upon this, the following corres- 
 pondence ensued : — 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HON. MAJOR HOBART. 
 
 " March 28. 1790. 
 
 « Sir, 
 
 " A man of the name of * *, a conductor 
 of your press, a writer for your government, your 
 notorious agent in the city, your note-taker in the 
 House of Commons, in consequence of some ob- 
 servation that fell from me in that House on your 
 prodigality in rewarding such a man with the 
 public money for such services, had the audacity 
 to come within a few paces of me, in the most fre-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 2S1 
 
 quented part of this metropolis, and shake his stick 
 at me in a manner which, notwithstanding l^is 
 silence, was too plain to be misunderstood. I ap- 
 plied to you to dismiss him, because he is your re- 
 tainer, for whom you ought to be responsible. You 
 have had recourse to the stale artifice of office, and 
 have set up incapacity and irresponsibility against 
 doing an act, which as a minister you were able, 
 and which as a man of honour you should have 
 been ready to do. As to your being a stranger to 
 the man, you knew when you wrote it that it was 
 a pitiful evasion : I did not apply to the secretary 
 to discard a companion, but to dismiss the runner 
 of his administration. As to your attempt to shel- 
 ter yourself under the lord-lieutenant, who, during 
 the continuance of his government, cannot be re- 
 sponsible for such outrages, you should have felt 
 that to be equally unworthy of you. If such sub- 
 terfuges were tolerated, every member of parlia- 
 ment, every gentleman of the country, who might 
 become obnoxious to the Castle, would be exposed 
 to personal violence from the ruffians of your ad- 
 ministration. I should give up the cause of both 
 if I did not endeavour to check this practice, not 
 in the person of the instrument, but of his abettor.
 
 232 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 I knew perfectly well the resentments I had excit- 
 ed by my public conduct, and the sentiments and 
 declarations I have expressed concerning your ad- 
 ministration. I knew I might possibly become 
 the victim of such declarations, particularly when 
 I saw. that an attempt at personal intimidation was 
 part of the plan of government; but I was too' 
 deeply impressed with their truth to be restrained 
 by any consideration of that sort from making 
 them in public, or asserting them with my latest 
 breath. 
 
 " Sir, I am aware that you could not be con- 
 victed of having actually commissioned this last 
 outrage upon me, but that you have protected 
 and approved it. I own I am very sorry that you 
 have suffered so unjustifiable a sanction of one of 
 your creatures to commit you and me personally. 
 However, as you are pleased to disclaim the of- 
 fender, and the power of punishing him, 1 feel I 
 must acquiesce, whatever may be my opinion on 
 the subject, and though you have forced upon 
 me a conviction that you have sacrificed the prin- 
 ciples of a man of honour to an official expedi- 
 ency. This sentiment I should have conveyed 
 through my friend, but that it might possibly;
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 233 
 
 become necessary that our communication on this 
 business should be public. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, 
 « Sir, 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " John P. Curran." 
 
 TO JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, Esq. 
 
 " Dublin Caslle, March 29. 1 790. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Your original application to me, through 
 
 Mr Egan, was, that Mr should be dismissed 
 
 from the service of government, for the insult 
 which he had offered to you ; or that government 
 should co-operate with you in preferring a com- 
 plaint to the House of Commons against him for 
 a breach of their privileges. This application was, 
 on the face of it, official ; and, in answer to it, I 
 pointed out to you, by direction of his excellency 
 the lord-lieutenant, the only mode by which you 
 could have the redress you had sought for the 
 outrage of which you had complained. You have 
 now thought fit to desert the mode of official pro- 
 ceeding, and to couple a personal attack against 
 me with an appeal to the public.
 
 234 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 " Whatever are your hopes and motives in such 
 a conduct, be assured, that the attempt of making 
 your cause the cause of the public will never suc- 
 ceed. The public will never believe that I could 
 have directly or indirectly instigated any man to 
 insult you. They will see that the regular mode 
 of redress was open to you, even the redress you 
 at first affected to seek. You will never fasten a 
 belief on the public that any man was mad enough 
 to insult a member of parliament, merely for his 
 having accused the government of prodigality in 
 rewarding him; nor will all your ingenuity serve 
 to entangle me in that transaction, merely because 
 
 you are pleased to style Mr my retainer ; or 
 
 to create a persuasion that I am personally respon- 
 sible for the resentment of a servant of the govern- 
 ment, who was placed in the situation which he 
 now fills many years before I came into office. 
 The public will view this matter in its true light; 
 and they will clearly perceive, what no man can 
 ever justify, that you have transferred to me the 
 quarrel which another has provoked, for no one 
 reason, but because you think it politic so to do. 
 
 " Your parade of the resentments which you 
 boast to have excited by your public conduct, and 
 your insinuation that an attempt at personal in-
 
 LIFE OF CUKRAN. 235 
 
 timidation was part of the plan of government, I 
 cannot condescend to notice. The public will 
 never be the dupes of such a paltry affectation, to 
 give a popular complexion to your quarrel. 
 
 " As to your charge of my having sacrificed the 
 principles of a man of honour to political expedi- 
 ency, the motive of the accusation is too evident 
 to demand a reply. I trust to my own character 
 for its refutaiion. 
 
 " I pity the condition of any man who feels 
 himself reduced to the desperate expedient of en- 
 deavouring to wipe off the affronts and insults he 
 has submitted to from others, by forcing a quar- 
 rel upon a man who never injured him in the 
 remotest degree; and I am at a loss to conceive 
 how such a conduct can be reconciled to the prin- 
 ciples or feelings of a gentleman or a man of ho- 
 nour. 
 
 " Perhaps a man in a public situation, and who 
 has given no offence, might be well justified in 
 appealing to the laws, if he should be personally 
 called upon. I do not mean, sir, to avail myself 
 of your example. You say, sir, that it may be 
 necessary that the communication on this sub- 
 ject should be public : had you not said so, my
 
 236 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 answer to you would have been short indeed. I 
 have the honour to be 
 
 " Your obedient humble servant, 
 
 « R. HOBART." 
 
 *' P. S. Having put you in possession of my 
 sentiments, I shall consider it unnecessary to an- 
 swer any more letters." 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HON. MAJOR HOBART. 
 
 "March 30. 1790. 
 
 « Sir, 
 
 " As I wish to stand justified to the public 
 and to you for having had recourse to you on 
 the present extraordinary occasion, I beg leave 
 once more to trouble you with a few lines, to 
 which no answer can be necessary. They will be 
 addressed to you in that temper which the general 
 purport of the last letter I had the honour to re- 
 ceive entitles you to expect. 
 
 " An unparalleled outrage was offered to me : 
 — the person was beneath my resentment. In 
 this very difficult situation, to whom could I re- 
 sort but to his masters ? and if to them, to whom 
 but to the first ?
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 237 
 
 " I never charged you, sir, with instigating that 
 man to such an act ; but am sorry that I cannot 
 add, that such a part has been taken to punish 
 him as was necessary to acquit all your adminis- 
 tration. I know perfectly well you found him in 
 office, and also in certain lower confidential de- 
 partments, which are more easily understood than 
 expressed ; and my complaint was, that, after such 
 gross misconduct, he continued there. 
 
 " I beg leave to remind you, that I did not say 
 , that any man was mad enough to insult a mem- 
 ber of parliament, merely for accusing government 
 of prodigality in rewarding him ; but I did say, 
 and must repeat, that the insult upon me was 
 made in consequence of my having arraigned the 
 prodigality of rewarding such a man for such ser- 
 vices. Permit me to add, that you cannot but 
 have reason to believe this to be the fact. Some 
 of your court have talked freely upon the subject; 
 and the man, by his own application of the word, 
 has acknowledged his vocation and his connexion. 
 " I must still continue to think, that what you 
 are pleased to call a quarrel is nothing but the 
 result of my public conduct. Sure I am that I 
 should have escaped the attacks that have been 
 made upon my person and character, and this last
 
 238 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 among others, if that conduct had been less zea- 
 lous and decided. 
 
 " As to your charge of my forcing a quarrel 
 upon a man — " who never in the remotest degree 
 injured you" — there is something in the expres- 
 sion, which I acknowledge excites in my mind a 
 very lively concern. And it is an aggravation of 
 the outrage upon me, that it left me no resort, 
 save one painful to my feelings, but necessary to 
 my situation. 
 
 " As to the insinuation which accompanies your 
 expression of regret, I am sorry it should have 
 escaped from Major Hobart. He cannot serious- 
 ly mean that I should squander my person upon 
 every ruffian who may make an attempt on my 
 life. In the discharge of political and professional 
 duties, every man must expect to excite enemies. 
 I cannot hope to be more fortunate ; but I shall 
 commit myself only with such as cannot disgrace 
 me. A farther answer also may be necessary to 
 this part of your letter ; but that, as it cannot be 
 so properly conveyed in writing, my friend Mr 
 Egan will have the honour to explain. I have 
 the honour to be, 
 
 « Sir, 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 « J. P. CuRRAN."
 
 LIFE OF CUllRAN. 239 
 
 A duel immediately followed, in which neither 
 party received any injury. 
 
 In reviewing this transaction, it would not be 
 difficult for any one, who should feel so disposed, 
 to produce many arguments in support of the con- 
 clusion, that Mr Curran's demand of personal 
 satisfaction from the Irish minister was a departure 
 from the usages of public life. Such a person 
 would, however, leave out of his consideration 
 the circumstances that provoked and that could 
 justify such a proceeding — the inflamed state of 
 the times — the previous debate in parliament — 
 the minister's tacit sanction of the menaces of his 
 adherents — and Mr Curran's remonstrance upon 
 the occasion not having produced an observation 
 that could deter the future insulter. The latter 
 was the view which convinced himself and his 
 friends, that it was only by some such decisive 
 measure as that which he adopted, that the pri- 
 vileges and persons of his party could be secured 
 from farther violence. The particulars of the 
 affair, however, are given here, not as a subject 
 of controversy, but as a striking public fact, and 
 an event in Mr Curran' political life. 
 
 -.^
 
 240 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Mu Curran's dispute and frequent collisions 
 in parliament with Mr Fitzgibbon have been al- 
 ready adverted to ; and, in what has been hitherto 
 related, the conduct of neither party has appeared 
 inarked by any peculiar aggravations : but the 
 latter having now become Chancellor of Ireland, 
 Lord Clare remembered the resentments of Mr 
 Fitzgibbon, and avenged the wounds he had re- 
 ceived in the senate, by excluding Mr Curran 
 from all practice in his courLf Such a mode of 
 reprisals has been generally reprehended as merely 
 unmanly and ungenerous, but it was a great deal 
 more. The misconduct of persons in elevated 
 stations is seldom canvassed with the rigour ne- 
 cessary to their perfect reprobation. So much 
 does power impose upon the understandings of 
 men, that, almost trembling to scrutinize the of- 
 fences that should be most exposed, they are 
 
 f This was effected by letting the public see that Mr Curran 
 had not (in the technical phrase) the ear of the court : and in this 
 Lord Clare so entirely succeeded, that in a very little time no client 
 would venture to intrust a chancery cause of any importance to 
 the discountenanced advocate. Mr Curran's loss of professional 
 income was extreme. There was an immediate diminution of 
 L. 1000 a-year, which the Court of Chancery alone had produc- 
 ed; and this an increasing income. The aggregate of his loss he 
 always estimated at L. 30,000.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 241 
 
 rather satisfied to consider the enjoyment of high 
 trust as a kind of apology for its violation. A 
 Judge setting his face against a particular advocate 
 does not commit a siniple act of unkindness or in- 
 decorum ; he offers as criminal an outrage as can 
 be imagined to the most sacred privileges of the 
 community. The claim of the subject to be heard 
 with impartiality is not derived from the favour of 
 the Judge; it is a right, as independent of persons, 
 and as sanctioned by law, as that which entitles 
 the Judge to sit upon the bench : it is the bounden 
 duty of the latter to afford an honest unbiassed 
 attention to every suitor in his court, or (what is 
 equivalent) to such counsel as the suitor appoints to 
 represent himself: when the Judge, therefore, from 
 motives of private or political dislike, refuses, on the 
 hearing of a cause, the fullest indulgence that legal 
 proceedings admit, he not only unworthily marks 
 out an obnoxious individual as the victim of hiS' 
 own angry passions, diminishing his credit, and 
 thereby, perhaps, depriving him of his bread ; but 
 as far as in him lies, he directly tends to defraud 
 the unoffending subject of his property, or his re- 
 putation, or his lifej he does the same indirectly, 
 by compelling the advocate, if he has a spark of 
 the spirit befitting his station, to exhaust, in resist- 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 21f2 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 ance to such unseemly partiality, a portion of that 
 time and vigour which should be exclusively ap- 
 propriated to the service of his client. These 
 scenes of indecent strife, too, inevitably strip the 
 seats of law of their character and influence ; for 
 who can look up with confidence or respect to a 
 tribunal, where he sees faction domineering over 
 equity, and the minister of justice degraded into a 
 partisan ? 
 
 This flagrant abuse of the judicial functions by 
 Lord Clare has never incurred all the odium that 
 it merited — with his admirers it was a speck upon 
 the sun, and his enemies had deeper crimes to 
 execrate. The widely different deportment of his- 
 successors has also removed all present apprehen- 
 sions of a repetition of such scenes ; still the vicious 
 model may find its imitators — the tramplers upon 
 human rights are not peculiar to any generation ; 
 and wherever they do appear, their exposure should 
 be insisted on as a future protection to the public; 
 the characters of such men should be rendered an 
 antidote to their example. 
 
 For this deadly injury inflicted on him by the 
 highest law-officer in the kingdom, Mr Curran 
 was not tardy in taking signal vengeance. He 
 saw that his enemy had advanced too far to re-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. g^S 
 
 cede — he disdained to conciliate him by submissioa 
 or by mild expostulation. To have acted with 
 forbearance, or even with temper, (however ami- 
 able and prudent, had it been a pi'ivate case) would 
 liave been in the present one, as he considered it, 
 a desertion of what was to him above every per- 
 sonal consideration, of a great constitutional prin- 
 ciple, involving the rights and securities of the 
 client, and the honour and independence of the 
 Irish bar. He was not insensible (it could hardly 
 be expected that he should) to such an invasion 
 of his feelings and his income ; but in resisting it 
 as he did, with scorn and exposure, he felt that 
 he was assuming the proud attitude of a public 
 man, contending against a noxious system of 
 " frantic encroachments," of which he was the 
 accidental victim ; and that the result, however 
 unproductive to his private interests, would, at 
 least, shew that the advocate was not to be scared 
 from the performance of his duty by the terrors 
 of contumely or pecuniary loss ; and that though 
 the Judge might be for the moment victorious in 
 the contest, his victory should cost him dear. 
 
 The opportunities of hurling direct defiance at 
 Lord Clare might have now been rare. They 
 could no longer meet in the House of Commons ;
 
 244 LIFE OF CUURAN. 
 
 and the Chancellor provided against a frequent 
 intercourse in his court:* but an extraordinary 
 occasion soon presented itself, and enabled the 
 injured advocate to execute his objects of retalia- 
 tion, in the dignified character of a public avenger, 
 before an audience where every blow was more 
 public and more humiliating. 
 
 The lord mayor of the city of Dublin is chosen 
 by the board of aldermen, whose choice is con- 
 firmed, or disapproved, by the common council. 
 In the year 1790 the board elected a person (Al- 
 derman James) whom the commons rejected. The 
 board successively elected seven others, whom the 
 commons, without assigning the reasons of their 
 disapprobation, successively rejected. Their real 
 
 * The occasional style of their warfare in the CoTirt of Chancery, 
 for the little time that Mr Curran continued to be employed there, 
 may be collected from the following instance. Lord Clare had a 
 favourite dog that sometimes followed him to the bench. One 
 day, during an argument of Mr Curran's, the Chancellor, in the 
 spirit of habitual petulance which distinguished him, instead Of at- 
 tending to the argument, turned his head aside, and began to fondle 
 the dog. The coimsel stopped suddenly in the middle of a seii- 
 tence — tlie judge started. " I beg pardon," said Mr Curran, " I 
 thought your Lordships had been in consultation ; but as you have 
 been pleased to resume your attention, allow me to impress upon 
 your excellent understanding*, that"— &c. '
 
 LIFE OF cunuAN. 245 
 
 motive was a determination to continue rejecting 
 the . names returned to them, imtil the election 
 of the aldermen should fall upon a person attached 
 to the popular cause. The board perceiving this, 
 and denying that the common council had such a 
 right of capricious rejection, returned no more, 
 and broke up without having duly elected a lord 
 mayor. Upon this the sheriffs and commons (ac- 
 cording to the law that provided for such an event) 
 proceeded to elect one, and fixed upon a popular 
 candidate. Alderman Howison. 
 
 This contest between the board of aldermen 
 and the commons, after having undergone much 
 violent discussion, and excited great agitation 
 in the metropolis, was brought before the lord- 
 lieutenant and privy council (at which Lord Clare 
 presided as lord-chancellor) for their final deci- 
 sion. The council chamber was thrown open as 
 a public court. The concourse of spectators, 
 among whom were the most opulent and respect- 
 able citizens of Dublin, was immense. The ques- 
 tion before the court was to be the mere legal 
 construction of an act of parliament, but the chan- 
 cellor and the ministry notoriously favoured the 
 pretensions of the board of aldermen ; so that the 
 question before the public was, whether the rights
 
 tii<6 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 of the city were to be treated with constitutional 
 respect, or to be crushed by the despotic power of 
 the Castle. 
 
 Upon this solemn and vital question, Mr Cur- 
 ran appeared as one of the leading counsel for the 
 commons and the object of their choice. Alderman 
 Howison. He had not proceeded far in his argu- 
 ment before he shewed that he did not mean to 
 confine it to the literal and technical interpreta- 
 tion of a statute ; but that, looking at the question 
 as the public did, he should raise it from a cold 
 legal discussion into a great constitutional struggle 
 between the privileges of the subject and the influ- 
 ence of the Irish ministry. But he could not have 
 taken a more infallible method of soon reducing it 
 from a question of law, or of principle, into a per- 
 sonal contest between himself and the aristocratic 
 chancellor. Accordingly their hostility immedi- 
 ately burst forth in the interruptions of the Judge, 
 and the contemptuous indifference with which they 
 were treated by the advocate. At length, the lat- 
 ter (by way of allusion to the unconstitutional con- 
 duct of a former chancellor, Sir Constantino 
 Phipps, upon a similar occasion) proceeded to 
 draw the following picture of his irritated enemy,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 24-7 
 
 ill his own presence, and in that of the assembled 
 community.* 
 
 *' On grounds like these, for I can conceive no 
 other, do I suppose the rights of the city were de- 
 fended in the time to which I have alluded ; for 
 it appears, by the recoi'ds which I have read, that 
 the city was then heard by her counsel ; she was 
 
 • The person who was the most zealous in exciting a spirit of 
 opposition in the common council was Mr Tandy, a member of 
 the Whig Club. Mr Grattan, one of the most distinguished mem- 
 bers of the same association, speaks thus of the above transaction : — 
 " An attack was made on the rights of the city. A doctrine was 
 promulgated, that the common council had no right to put a nega- 
 tive on the lord mayor chosen by the board of aldermen, except 
 the board itself should assent to the negative put on its own choice. 
 This doctrine was advanced by the court, to secure the election of 
 the mayor to itself. In the course of the contest, the minister in- 
 volved himself in a personal altercation with tlie citizens; — with 
 Mr Tandy he had carried on a long war, and with various success. 
 In the compass of his wrath, he paid his compliments to the Whig 
 Club, and that club advanced the shield of a free people over the 
 rights of the city, and humbled the minister, in the presence of 
 those citizens whose privileges he had invaded, and whose persons 
 he had calumniated." — Jiiswer to Lord Clare's Pamphlet. 
 
 Alderman Howison's counsel, Mr Curran, and the late Mr 
 George Ponsonby, were members of the Whig Club, and refused 
 Lo accept any remuneration for their exertions upon this occasion.
 
 248 LIFE OF CUBBAN. 
 
 not denied the form of defence, though she was 
 denied the benefit of the law. In this very cham- 
 ber did the chancellor and judges sit, with all 
 the gravity and affected attention to arguments in 
 favour of that liberty and those rights which they 
 had conspired to destroy. But to what end, my 
 lords, offer argument to such men ? A little and 
 a peevish mind may be exasperated, but how shall 
 it be corrected by refutation ? How fruitless would 
 it have been to represent to that wretched chan- 
 cellor, that he was betraying those rights which 
 he was sworn to maintain ; that he was involving 
 a government in disgrace, and a kingdom in panic 
 and consternation ; that he was violating every 
 sacred duty, and every solemn engagement that 
 bound him to himself, his country, his sovereign, 
 and his God "i Alas ! my lords, by what argu- 
 ments could any man hope to reclaim or to dis- 
 suade a mean, illiberal, and unprincipled minion 
 of authority, induced by his profligacy to under- 
 take, and bound by his avarice and vanity to per- 
 severe. He would probably have replied to the 
 most unanswerable arguments by some curt, con- 
 tumelious, and unmeaning apothegm, delivered 
 with the fretful smile of irritated self-sufficiency 
 and disconcerted arrogance ; or even if he could 
 be dragged by his fears to a consideration of the
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 249 
 
 question, by what miracle could the pigmy capa- 
 city of a stunted pedant be enlarged to a reception 
 of the subject? The endeavour to approach it 
 would have only removed him to a greater distance 
 than he was before, as a little hand that strives to 
 grasp a mighty globe is thrown back by the reac- 
 tion of its own efforts to comprehend. It may be 
 ffiven to an Hale or an Hardwicke to discover 
 and retract a mistake : the errors of such men are 
 only specks that arise for a moment upon the sur- 
 face of a splendid luminary; consumed by its heat, 
 or irradiated by its light, they soon purge and dis- 
 appear : but the perverseness of a mean and nar- 
 row intellect are like the excrescences that grow 
 upon a body naturally cold and dark ; — no fire to 
 waste them, and no ray to enlighten, they assimi- 
 late and coalesce with those qualities so congenial 
 to their nature, and acquire an incorrigible per- 
 manency in the union with kindred frost and kin- 
 dred opacity. Nor indeed, my lords, except where 
 the interest of millions can be affected by the folly 
 or the vice of an individual, need it be much re- 
 gretted, that to things not worthy of being made 
 better, it hath not pleased Providence to afford the 
 privilege of improvement."
 
 250 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 Lord Clare. — " Surely, Mr Curran, a gentle- 
 man of your eminence in your profession must see 
 that the conduct of former privy councils has no- 
 thing to do with the question before us. The 
 question lies in the narrowest compass; it is mere- 
 ly whether the commons have a right of arbitrary 
 and capricious rejection, or are obliged to assign 
 a reasonable cause for their disapprobation. To 
 that point you have a right to be heard, but I 
 hope you do not mean to lecture the council." 
 
 Mr Curran. — " I mean, my lords, to speak to 
 the case of my clients, and to avail myself of every 
 topic of defence which I conceive applicable to 
 that case. I am not speaking to a dry point of 
 law, to a single judge, and on a mere forensic 
 subject; I am addressing a very large auditory, 
 consisting of co-ordinate members, of whom the 
 fer greater number is not versed in law. Were I 
 to address such an audience on the interests and 
 rights of a great city, and address them in the 
 hackneyed style of a pleader, I should make a 
 very idle display of profession, with very little 
 information to those I address, or benefit to those 
 on whose behalf 1 have the honour to be heard. 
 I am aware, my lords, that truth is to be sought 
 only by slow and painful progress : I know also,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 251 
 
 that error is in its nature Jlippant and compen- 
 dious : it hops "with airy and fastidious levity over 
 proofs and arguments, and perches upon assertion^ 
 xvhich it calls conclusion.^' 
 
 Here Mr Curran's triumph over his proud 
 enemy was complete. The sarcastic fehcity of 
 this description of the unfavourable side of Lord 
 Clare's mind and manner was felt by the whole 
 audience. The chancellor immediately moved to 
 have the chamber cleared, and during the exclu- 
 sion of strangers was understood to have ineifec- 
 tually endeavoured to prevail upon the council to 
 restrain the advocate from proceeding any further 
 in that mode of argument which had given him so 
 much offence. 
 
 From this period till the year 1794, Mr Cur- 
 ran's public history consists principally of his par- 
 liamentary exertions. The Opposition " persist- 
 ed to combat the project to govern Ireland by 
 corruption :" for this purpose they brought for- 
 ward a series of popular measures ; * in the sup- 
 
 • The most important of these were Mr Forbes's motion for a 
 place bill, Mr Grattan's for an inquiry into the sale of peerages, 
 the Catholic question, parliamentary reform. The inquiry regard- 
 ing the sale of peerages was twice moved ; by Mr Grattan in 1790, 
 and by Mr Curran in the following year: both motions failed,
 
 252 MFfi OF CURRAN. 
 
 port of all of which Mr Curran took a leading 
 •part. Lord Charlemont's biographer, who heard 
 
 although the fullest evidence of the fact was offered. " I have 
 proof," said Mr Curran, " and I stake my character on producing 
 such evidence to a committee, as shall fully and incontrovertibly 
 establish the fact, that a contract has been entered into with the 
 present ministers to raise to the peerage certain persons, on condi- 
 tion of their purchasing a certain number of seats in this House." 
 Upon this last occasion Mr Curran was loudly called to order, for 
 having reminded the House " that they should be cautious in their 
 decision on this question, for they were in the hearing of a great 
 number of the j)eople of Ireland." Mr Grattan defended the ex- 
 pression, and thought the doctrine of censure passed upon it incon- 
 sistent with the nature of a popular assembly such as a House of 
 Commons : in support of this opinion he quoted an expression of 
 Lord Chatham, who in the House of Peers, where such language 
 was certainly less proper than in a House of Commons, addressed 
 the Peers, " My lords, I speak not to your lordships ; I speak to 
 the public and to the constitution." - *^'The words," added Mr 
 Grattan, " were at first received with some murmurs, but the good 
 sense of the House and the genius of the cows/iiuiiow justified him." 
 Mr Curran, on resuming, repeated the expression, and was again 
 interrupted by violent cries to order, which, however, he silenced 
 by observing, " I do not allude to any strangers in your gallery, 
 but I allude to the constructive presence of four millions of peo- 
 ple, whom a Serjeant at arms cannot keep unacquainted with your 
 proceedings." — Irish Pari. Deb. 1791. 
 
 ■ During the debate upon the same subject in the preceding year, 
 Mr Grattan produced a paper, and read as follows: " We charge 
 them (the- ministers) publicly, in the face of their country, with
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 253 
 
 him upon all those occasions, says of him, " That 
 he animated every debate with all his powers; 
 
 making corrupt agreements for the sale of peerages; for doing 
 whicl), we say that they are impeachable : we charge them with cor- 
 rupt agreements for the disposal of the money arising from the sale, 
 to purchase for the servants of the Castle seats in the assembly of 
 the people; for which we say that they are impeachable. We 
 charge them with committing these offences^ not in one, nor in two, 
 but in many instances ; for which complication of offences we say 
 that they are impeachable ; guilty of a systematic endeavour to im- 
 dermine the constitution, in violation of the laws of the land. We 
 pledge ourselves to convict them ; we dare tliem to go into an in- 
 quiry ; we do not affect to treat them as other than public malefac- 
 tors ; we speak to them in a style of the most mortifying and hu- 
 miliating defiance; we pronounce them to be public criminals. 
 Will they dare to deny the charge ? I call upon and dare the os- 
 tensible member to rise in his place and say, on his honour, that he 
 does not believe such corrupt agreements have taken place. I wait 
 for a specific answer." Major Hobart avoided a specific answer. 
 Six days after, Mr Grattan, alluding to these charges, observed, 
 " Sir, I have been told it was said that I should have been stopped, 
 should have been expelled the commons, should have been deliver- 
 ed up to the bar of the lords for the expressions delivered that day. 
 I will repeat what I said that day." After reciting the charges 
 seriatim in the same words, he thus concluded, " I repeat these 
 charges now, and if any thing more severe was on a former occa- 
 sion expressed, I beg to be reminded of it, and I will again repeat 
 it. Why do you not expel me now? Why not send me to the bar 
 of the lords ? Wliere is your adviser ? Going out of the House I 
 shall repeat my sentiments, that his majesty's ministers are guilty
 
 254 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 that he was copious, splendid, full of wit, and life, 
 and ardour." Of the justice of this praise suffi- 
 cient proofs might be given, even from the loose 
 reports of his speeches upon those questions ; but 
 it will be necessary in the following pages to offer 
 so many examples of his forensic oratory, upon 
 which his reputation so mainly depends, that his 
 efforts in parliament become, as far as his elo- 
 quence is concerned, of secondary moment, and 
 claim a passing attention, rather with reference to 
 his history and conduct, than as necessary to his 
 literary fame. 
 
 of impeachable offences, and advancing to the bar of the lords, I 
 shall repeat these sentiments ; and if the Tower is to be my habi- 
 tation, I will there meditate the impeachment of these ministers, 
 and return, not to capitulate, but to punish. Sir, I think I know 
 myself well enough to say, that if called forth to suffer in a public 
 cause, I will go further than my prosecutors both in virtue and in 
 danger."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 255 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 State of parties — Trial of Hamilton Rowan — Mr Curran's fidelity 
 to his party — Rev. "William Jackson's trial — Conviction — and 
 Death — Remarks upon that trial — Irish informers — Irish juries 
 — The influence of the times upon Mr Curran's style of oratory. 
 
 The period was now approaching which afforded 
 to Mr Curran's forensic talents their most melan- 
 choly, but most splendid occasions of exertion. 
 With this year (1791<) commences the series of 
 those historical trials which originated in the dis- 
 tracted condition of his country, and to the poli- 
 tical interest of which his eloquence has now im- 
 parted an additional attraction. 
 
 From the year 1789 the discontents of Ireland 
 had been rapidly increasing. The efforts of the 
 opposition in parliament having failed to procure 
 a reform of the abuses and grievances of which 
 the nation complained, an opinion soon prevailed 
 throughout the community, that the Irish admini- 
 stration had entered into a formal design to de- 
 grade the country, and virtually to annul its lately 
 acquired independence, by transferring the abso-
 
 256 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 lute dominion over it from the English parliament, 
 which had previously governed it, to the English 
 cabinet, which was to be its future ruler. With- 
 out inquiring at present into the truth of this opi- 
 nion, it will be sufficient to observe, that, in the 
 agitation of the many irritating questions it in- 
 volved, it soon appeared that Ireland had little 
 hope of seeing them terminated by the gentle 
 methods of argument or persuasion. The adhe- 
 rents of the administration, and their opponents, 
 were agreed upon the fact of the universal discon- 
 tent, and upon the dangers that it threatened ; 
 but they differed widely upon the measures that 
 should be adopted for the restoration of repose. 
 
 The first were determined to use coercion.' 
 Tliey seemed to think that popular excesses are 
 almost solely the people's own creation — that they 
 are naturally prone to disaffection — that com- ^ 
 plaints of grievances are resorted to as a mere 
 pretext to gratify this propensity; and, conse- 
 quently, that a provident government should vi- 
 gorously resist every movement of discontent, as 
 the fearful tokens of projected revolution. In 
 conformity with these opinions, it appeared to 
 them that terror alone could tranquillize Ireland ; 
 and, therefore, that every method of impressing^
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 257 
 
 upon the public mind the power of the state, no 
 matter how unpopular their nature, or how ad- 
 verse to the established secui'ities of the subject, 
 should be adopted and applauded as measures of 
 salutary restraint. 
 
 The truth and expediency of these doctrines 
 were as firmly denied by others, who maintained 
 that conciliation alone could appease the popular 
 ferment. They deplored the general tendency to 
 disaffection as notorious and undeniable; but they 
 considered that there would have been more wis- 
 dom in preventing than in punishing it; that a 
 very little wisdom would have been sufficient to 
 prevent it; and that, in punishing it now, the 
 ministry were " combating, not causes, but ef- 
 fects." They denied that the great mass of the 
 Irish, or of any community, were naturally prone 
 to disaffection. " Their natural impulses (they 
 observed, in replying to the advocates of coercion) 
 are all the other way. Look into history ; — for 
 one revolution, or attempt at revolution, of how 
 many long and uninterrupted despotisms do we 
 read ; — and, wherever such attempts occur, it is 
 easy to assign the cause. There is one, and only 
 one way of measuring the excellence of any go- 
 vernment — by considering the condition of the 
 
 VOL. 1. s ..
 
 258 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 governed. No well governed people will desire 
 to exchange real and present blessings for the 
 danger and uncertainty of remote and fantastic 
 speculations : and if ever they are found to com- 
 mit their lives and fortunes to such desperate ex- 
 periments, it is the most conclusive evidence that 
 they are badly governed, and that their sufferings 
 have impelled them " to rise up in vengeance, to 
 rend their chains upon the heads of their oppres- 
 sors." Look to the neighbouring example of 
 France, and see what abominations an infuriated 
 populace may be brought to practise upon their 
 rulers and upon themselves. Let Ireland be saved 
 from the possibility of such a crisis. The majo- 
 rity of its people are in a state of odious exclusion, 
 visiting them in its daily consequences with end- 
 less insults and privations, which, being minute 
 and individual, are only the more intolerable. 
 Would it not be wise, then, to listen to their 
 claim of equal privileges, which, if granted, would 
 give you the strongest security for their loyalty ? 
 There are other grievances — the notorious cor- 
 ruption of the legislature — the enormity of the 
 pension list — and many more — of these the nation 
 complains, and seems determined to be heard.* 
 
 * Every session tlie opposition, again and again, pressed upon 
 the ministers the dangers to vvhidi their system was exposing the
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 259 
 
 The times are peculiar; and, if the popular cry 
 be not the voice of wisdom, it should at least be 
 that of warning. The mind of all Europe is 
 greatly agitated : a general distrust of govern- 
 ments has gone abroad ; let that of Ireland ex- 
 hibit such an example of virtue and moderation, 
 as may entitle it to the confidence of the people. 
 The people seem inclined to turbulence ; but treat 
 
 state. Thus Mr Grattan observed, early in 1793, " They (the 
 ministers) attempted to put down the constitution ; but now they 
 have put down the government. We told them so — we admonish- 
 ed them-*-we told them their driving would not do. Do not 
 they remember how in 1790 we warned them ? They said we were 
 severe: — I am sure we were prophetic. In 1791 we repeated our 
 admonition — told them that a government of clerks would not do — 
 that the government of the treasury would not do — that Ireland 
 would not long be governetl by the trade of parliament ; — we told 
 ihem that a nation, which had rescued her liberty from the giant 
 of Old England, would not long bear to be trodden on by the vio- 
 lence of a few pigmies, whom the caprice of a court had appointed 
 ministers." Mr Curran's language was equally emphatic — " Ire- 
 land thinks, that, without an immediate reform, her liberty is 
 gone: — I think so too. While a single guard of British freedom, 
 either internal or external, is wanting, Ireland is in bondage. She 
 looks to us for her emancipation. She expects not impossibilities 
 from us — but she expects honesty and plain dealing; and, if she 
 finds them not, remember what I predict — she will abominate her 
 parliament, and look for a reform to herself." — Pari. Deb. 1 793.
 
 260 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 it as a disease rather than, avenge it as a crime. 
 Between a state and its subjects there should be 
 no silly punctilio ; their errors can never justify 
 yours : you may coerce — you may pass intempe- 
 rate laws, and erect unheard-of tribunals, to pu- 
 nish what you should have averted — you may go 
 on to decimate, but you will never tranquillize."* 
 These were in substance the views and argu- 
 ments of the minority in the Irish House of Com- 
 mons, and of the more reflecting and unprejudiced 
 of the Irish community ; but such mild doctrines 
 had little influence with that assembly, or with 
 the nation. By the parliament the few that ad- 
 vanced them were regarded as the advocates of 
 the existing disorders, because they ventured to 
 explain their origin, and to recommend the only 
 cure ; while the people were industriously taught 
 to withdraw their confidence from public men, 
 who, instead of justifying the popular resentments 
 by a more unequivocal co-operation, were looking 
 forward to the impending crisis as an object of 
 apprehension, and not of hope. 
 
 * For an elaborate view of the state of Ireland, and of public 
 opinion at this period, see Mr Grattan's letter in the Appendix.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 261 
 
 Such was the condition of the public mind — the 
 government depending upon force — the people fa- 
 miliarizing themselves to projects of resistance^" 
 and several speculative and ambitious men of the 
 middle classes watching, with yet unsettled views, 
 over the fermenting elements of revolution, until 
 it should appear how far they could work them- 
 selves into union and consistency, when Mr Archi- 
 bald Hamilton Rowan* published an address to 
 the volunteers of Ireland, setting forth the dangers 
 with which the country was threatened from fo- 
 reign and domestic foes, and inviting them to re- 
 sume their arms for the preservation of the general 
 tranquillity. This publication was prosecuted by 
 the state as a seditious libel, and Mr Curran was 
 selected by Mr Rowan to conduct his defence. 
 
 The speech in defence of Hamilton Rowan has 
 been generally considered as one of Mr Curran's 
 ablest efforts at the bar. It is one of the few that 
 has been correctly reported ; and to that circura- 
 
 * Mr Rowan was secretary to the Society of United Irishmen 
 at Dublin. It is proper to observe here, that this was one of the 
 original societies of that denomination, whose views did not extend 
 beyond a constitutional reform. They have been sometimes con- 
 founded with the subsequent associations, which, under the same 
 popular oppcUation, aimed at a revolution.
 
 262 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 stance is, in some degree, to be attributed its ap- 
 parent superiority. Notwithstanding the enthu- 
 siastic applause which its delivery excited, he never 
 gave it any peculiar preference himself. 
 
 The opening of it has some striking points of 
 resemblance to the exordium of Cicero's defence 
 of Milo. If an imitation was intended by the 
 Irish advocate, it was naturally suggested by the 
 coincidence of the leading topics in the two cases 
 — the public interest excited — the unusual mili- 
 tary array in the court — the great popularity of 
 the clients — and the factious clamours which pre- 
 ed their trials.* 
 
 " When I consider the period at which this 
 prosecution is brought forward — when 1 behold 
 the extraordinary safeguard of armed soldiers re- 
 sorted to, no doubt, for the preservation of peace 
 
 f Nam ilia praesidia, quse pro templis omgibus cernitis, etsi con- 
 tra vim collocata sunt, nobis afFerunt tamen horroris aliquid : neque 
 eorura quisqiiam, quos undique intuentes cernitis, unde aliqua pars 
 fori adspici potest, et hujus exitum judicii expectantes, non cum 
 virtuti Milonis favet, tum de se, de liberis suis, de patria, de fortu- 
 nis hodierno die decertari putat. 
 
 Unum genus est adversum infestumque nobis eorum, quos 
 P. Clodii furor rapinis et incendiis et omnibus exitiis publicis pa- 
 vit; qui hesterna etiam concione incitati sunt, ut vobis voce prai- 
 rent, quid judicaretis.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 263 
 
 and order — when I catch, as I cannot but do, the 
 throb of public anxiety, that beats from one end 
 to the other of this hall — when I reflect on what 
 may be the fate of a man of the most beloved per- 
 sonal character, of one of the most respected fa- 
 milies of our country, himself the only individual 
 of that family, I may almost say of that country 
 — who can look to that possible fate with uncon- 
 cern ? Feeling, as I do, all these impressions, it is 
 in the honest simplicity of my heart I speak, when 
 I say that I never rose in a court of justice with 
 so much embarrassment as on this occasion. 
 
 *' If, gentlemen, I could entertain a hope of 
 finding refuge for the disconcertion of my own 
 mind in the perfect composure of yours ; if I could 
 suppose that those awful vicissitudes of human 
 events that have been stated or alluded to, could 
 leave your judgments undisturbed, or your hearts 
 at ease, I know I should form a most erroneous 
 opinion of your character. I entertain no such 
 chimerical hope — I form no such unworthy opi- 
 nion — I expect not that your hearts can be more 
 at ease than my own — I have no right to expect 
 it; but I have a right to call upon you, in the 
 name of your country', in the name of the living 
 God, of whose eternal justice you are now admi-
 
 264 LIFE OF CURBAN, 
 
 nistering that portion which dwells with us on this 
 side of the grave, to discharge your breasts, as far 
 as you are able, of every bias of prejudice or pas- 
 sion — that, if my client be guilty of the offence 
 charged upon him, you may give tranquillity to 
 the public by a firm verdict of conviction ; or, if 
 he be innocent, by as firm a verdict of acquittal ; 
 and that you will do this in defiance of the paltry 
 artifices and senseless clamours that have been re- 
 sorted to, in order to bring him to his trial with 
 anticipated conviction. And, gentlemen, I feel 
 an additional necessity of thus conjuring you to 
 be upon your guard, from the able and imposing 
 statement which you have just heard on the part 
 of the prosecution. I know well the virtues and 
 the talents of the excellent person who conducts 
 that prosecution.* I know how much he would 
 disdain to impose on you by the trappings of 
 office ; but I also know how easily we mistake the 
 lodgement which character and eloquence can 
 make upon our feelings, for those impressions that 
 reason, and fact, and proof only, ought to work 
 upon our understandings." 
 
 * The Attorney- General, Mr Wolfe, afterwards Lord Kilwar- 
 den.
 
 LIFE OF CUURAX. 265 
 
 When he came to observe upon that part of the 
 pubhcation under trial which proposed complete 
 emancipation to persons of every religious persua- 
 sion, he expressed himself as follovv's : — 
 
 " Do you think it wise or humane, at this mo- 
 ment, to insult them (the Catholics) by sticking 
 up in the pillory the man who dared to stand forth 
 as their advocate ? I put it to your oaths ; do you 
 think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory 
 obtained by justice over bigotry and opprcssion, 
 should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignomi- 
 nious sentence upon men bold and honest enough 
 to propose that measure ? — to propose the redeem- 
 ingr of religion from the abuses of the church, the 
 reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, 
 and giving liberty to all who had a right to de- 
 mand it ? — Giving, I say, in the so much censur- 
 ed words of this paper — giving * Universal Eman- 
 cipation !' 
 
 " I speak in the spirit of the British law, which 
 makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable 
 from British soil ; which pioclaims even to the 
 stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets 
 his foot upon British earth, that the ground on 
 which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the 
 genius of universal emancipation. No matter in
 
 266 LIFE OF cunnAN. 
 
 what language his doom may have been pronounc- 
 ed — no matter what complexion incompatible with 
 freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have 
 burnt upon him — no matter in what disastrous 
 battle his liberty may have been cloven down — no 
 matter with what solemnities he may have been 
 devoted upon the altar of slavery — the first mo- 
 ment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar 
 and the god sink together in the dust ; his soul 
 walks abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells 
 beyond the measure of his chains that burst from 
 around him ; and he stands redeemed, regenerat- 
 ed, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of 
 Universal Emancipation." 
 
 There is, farther on, a passage on the freedom 
 of the press, too glowing and characteristic to be 
 omitted : — ■ 
 
 " If the people say, let us not create tumult, 
 but meet in delegation, they cannot do it; if they 
 are anxious to promote parliamentary reform in 
 that way, they cannot do it ; the law of the last 
 session has, for the first time, declared such meet- 
 ings to be a crime. What then remains? — The 
 liberty of the press only — that sacred palladium 
 which no influence, no power, no minister, no go- 
 vernment, which nothing but the depravity, or
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 267 
 
 folly, or corruption of a jury can ever destroy. 
 And what calamities are the people saved from, 
 by having public communication left open to 
 them ? I will tel) you what they are saved from, 
 and what the fifovernment is saved from. I 
 will tell you also to what both are exposed, by 
 shutting up that communication. In one case 
 sedition speaks aloud, and walks abroad ; the de- 
 magogue goes forth — the public eye is upon him 
 — he frets his busy hour upon the stage ; but soon 
 either weariness, or bribe, or punishment, or dis- 
 appointment, bear him down, or drive him off, 
 and he appears no more. In the other case, how 
 docs the work of sedition go forward ? Night after 
 night the muffled rebel steals forth in the dark, 
 and casts another and another brand upon the 
 pile, to which, when the hour of fatal maturity 
 shall arrive, he will apply the flame. If you doubt 
 of the hori'id consequences of suppressing the 
 effusion even of individual discontent, look to 
 those enslaved countries, where the protection of 
 despotism is supposed to be secured by such re- 
 straints. Even the person of the despot there is 
 never in safety. Neither the fears of the despot, 
 nor the machinations of the slave, have any slum- 
 ber ; the one anticipating the moment of peril, the
 
 268 LIFE OF CURRAN'. 
 
 Other watching the opportunity of aggression. 
 The fatal crisis is equally a surprise upon both ; 
 the decisive instant is precipitated without warn- 
 ing, by folly on the one side, or by frenzy on the 
 other ; and there is no notice of the treason till 
 the traitor acts. But if you wish for a nearer and 
 more interesting example, you have it in the his- 
 tory of your own revolution ; you have it at that 
 memorable period when the monarch found a ser- 
 vile acquiescence in the ministers of his folly — 
 when the liberty of the press was trodden under 
 foot — when venal sheriffs returned packed juries, 
 to carry into effect those fatal conspiracies of the 
 few against the many — when the devoted benches 
 of public justice were filled by some of those 
 foundlings of fortune, who, overwhelmed in the 
 torrent of corruption at an early period, lay at 
 the bottom like drowned bodies, while soundness 
 or sanity remained in them ; but, at length, be- 
 coming buoyant by putrefaction, they rose as they 
 rotted, and floated to the surface of the polluted 
 stream, where they were drifted along, the objects 
 of terror, and contagion, and abomination.* 
 
 • Although it has been doubted by some who have observed 
 upon this passage, whether its vigour could atone for the images it 
 presents, it may not be ungratifying to hear the manner in which 
 it was suggested to the speaker's mind. A day or two before Mr
 
 Life of curran. 269 
 
 " In that awful moment of a nation's travail— 
 of the last gasp of tyi*anny and the first breath of 
 freedom, how pregnant is the example ! The 
 press extinguished, the people enslaved, and the 
 prince undone. As the advocate of society, there- 
 fore, of peace, of domestic liberty, and the lasting 
 union of the two countries, I conjure you to guard 
 the liberty of the press, that great sentinel of the 
 state, that grand detector of public imposture — 
 guard it — because, when it sinks, there sinks with 
 it, in one common grave, the liberty of the subject, 
 and the security of the crown." 
 
 The concluding passage of this speech (of which 
 the preceding extracts are inserted merely as ex- 
 amples of its style) contains one of those fine 
 scriptural allusions, of which Mr Curran made 
 such frequent and successful use : — 
 
 " I will not relinquish the confidence that this 
 day will be the period of his sufferings ; and how- 
 
 Kowan's trial, one of Mr Curran's friends shewed him a letter that 
 lie had just received from Bengal, in which the writer, after men- 
 tioning the Hindoo custom of throwing the dead into the Ganges, 
 added, that he was then upon the banks of that river, and that, as 
 he wrote, he could see several bodies floating down its istream. 
 The orator shortly after, while describing a corrupted bench, recol- 
 lected this fact, and applied it as above.
 
 270 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 ever mercilessly he has been hitherto pursued, that 
 your verdict vyill send him home to the arms of 
 his family and the wishes of his country. But if 
 (which Heaven forbid) it hath still been unfortu- 
 nately determined that, because he has not bent 
 to power and authority, because he would not bow 
 down before the golden calf and worship it, he is 
 to be bound and cast into the furnace ; I do trust 
 in God, that there is a redeeming spirit in the 
 constitution, which will be seen to walk with the 
 sufferer through the flames, and to preserve him 
 unhurt by the conflagration." 
 
 If the expression of excited emotions by the 
 auditors be the test of eloquence, this was the 
 most eloquent of Mr Curran's forensic productions. 
 To applaud in a court of justice, is at all times 
 irregular, and was then very rare ; but both dur- 
 ino- the delivery and after the conclusion of this 
 speech, the by-standers could not refrain from 
 testifying their admiration by loud and repeated 
 bursts of applause : when the advocate retired 
 from the court, they took the horses from his 
 carriage, which they drew to his own house; j'et 
 notwithstanding this public homage to his talents, 
 the most grateful reward of his exertions was 
 wanting — the jury, of whose purity very general
 
 LIFE OF CURBAN. 271 
 
 suspicions were entertained, found a verdict against 
 his client.* 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1795, Lord Fitz- 
 william having become viceroy of Ireland, Mr 
 Curran was upon the point of being raised to 
 the situation of solicitor-general ; but the sudden 
 recall of that nobleman defeated this, as well as 
 many other projected changes. 
 
 It should be mentioned here, that from the year 
 1789, frequent attempts were made by the adher- 
 ents of the administration to detach Mr Curran 
 from the party, which he had formally joined, at 
 that period. Every motive of personal ambition 
 was held out to allure him, and all the influence 
 of private solicitations exerted, but in vain. About 
 this time, when the general panic was daily thin- 
 
 • Mr Rowan was sentenced to fine and imprisonment. In the 
 month of June, 1794, Dr William Drennan was prosecuted for 
 the publication of the same libel. He was defended by Mr Cur- 
 ran, and acquitted ; not, however, on the merits of the imputed 
 lil)el, but on failure of proof that Dr Drennan had published it^ 
 On the first of the preceding May Mr Rowan effected his escape 
 from prison, and fled to France. After a long exile, and many 
 wanderings, he was permitted, a few years ago, to return to his 
 country, where he now resides. An interesting communication 
 from liimsclf upon this subject will be found in IIowcU's State 
 Trials for 1794.
 
 272 LIFE OF curhan. 
 
 ning the ranks of the opposition, his intimate and 
 attached friend, the late Lord Kilwarden, (then 
 the attorney-general), frequently urged him to 
 separate himself from a hopeless cause, and to 
 accept the rewards and honours that were open 
 to him. Upon one occasion, when Mr Curran 
 was confined by illness to his bed, that gentleman 
 visited him, and renewing the subject, with tears 
 in his eyes implored him to consult his interest 
 and his safety : " I tell you (said Mr Wolfe) that 
 you have attached yourself to a desperate faction, 
 that will abandon you at last ; with whom you 
 have nothing to expect but danger and disap- 
 pointment. With us, how different would be your 
 condition — I ask for no painful stipulations on 
 your part ; only say that you would accept of 
 office — viy situation will probably soon be vacant 
 for you, and after that, the road would be clear 
 before you." This proof of private affection caused 
 Mr Curran to weep, but he was unshaken. He 
 replied, " that he knew, better than his friend 
 could do, the men with whom he was associated ; 
 that they were not a desperate faction ; that their 
 cause was that of Ireland, and that even though 
 it should eventually be branded with the indelible 
 stigma of failure, he should never regret that it
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 273 
 
 was wilh such men, and such a cause, that he had 
 hnkcd his final destinies." 
 
 TRIAL OF THE REV. W. JACKSON. 
 
 The next state trial of importance in which Mr 
 Curran was cngajred, was that of Mr William 
 Jackson, a case of which some of the attending 
 circumstances were in a high degree singular and 
 affecting. 
 
 Mr Jackson was a clergyman of the established 
 church ; he was a native of Ireland, but he had for 
 several years resided out of that country. He 
 spent a part of his life in the family of the noted 
 Duchess of Kingston, and is said to have been the 
 person who conducted that lady's controversy with 
 the celebrated Foote.* At the period of the 
 French Revolution he passed over to Paris, where 
 he formed political connexions with the constituted 
 authorities. From France he returned to Lon- 
 don in 1794, for the purpose of procuring infor- 
 mation as to the practicability of an invasion of 
 
 • l-'potc, at tlic close of his letter to her Grace, observes : " Pray, 
 madam, is not J ii the name of your female confidential secre- 
 tary?" and afterwards, " Tliul you may never want lh<: hcncjii of 
 clergy in every emergency, is the wish of 
 
 Yours," &c. 
 \ OL. I. T
 
 27i LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 England, and was thence to proceed to Ireland on 
 a similar mission. Upon his arrival in London, 
 he renewed an intimacy with a person named 
 Cockayne, who had formerly been his friend and 
 confidential attorney. The extent of his commu- 
 nications, in the first instance, to Cockayne did 
 not exactly appear ; the latter, however, was pre- 
 vailed upon to write the directions of several of 
 Jackson's letters, containing treasonable matters, 
 to his correspondents abroad : but in a little time, 
 either suspecting or repenting that he had been 
 furnishing evidence of treason against himself, he 
 revealed to the British minister, Mr Pitt, all that 
 he knew or conjectured relative to Jackson's ob- 
 jects. By the desire of Mr Pitt, Cockayne ac- 
 companied Jackson to Ireland, to v/atch and de- 
 feat his designs ; and as soon as the evidence of 
 his treason was mature, announced himself as a 
 witness for the crown. Mr Jackson was accord- 
 ingly arrested, and committed to stand his trial 
 for hifih treason. 
 
 It did not appear that he had been previously 
 connected with any of the political fraternities 
 then so prevalent in Ireland ; but some of them 
 took so deep an interest in his fate, that the night 
 before his trial four persons of inferior condition, 
 members of those societies, formed a plan (which,
 
 I.IFE OF CURRAN. 275 
 
 however, proved abortive) to seize and carry off 
 Cockayne, and perhaps to dispatch him, m order 
 to deprive the government of the benefit of his 
 testimony.* 
 
 Mr Jackson was committed to prison in April 
 1 794, but his trial was delayed, by successive ad- 
 journments, till the same month in the following 
 year. In the interval, he wrote and published a 
 refutation of Paine's Age of Reason, probably in the 
 hope that it might be accepted as an atonemcnt.f 
 
 • Trial of John Leary for high treason, Dec. 28. 1 795.— Tliis 
 fact came out on the cross examination of Lawler, an informed, 
 and the witness against the prisoner in this case. Lawler was one 
 of the party that was to have seized Cockayne : he did not actually 
 admit that he was to have been assassinated j but he allowed t'lat 
 the objection to such a measure was, " that if Cockayne were put 
 to death, and the court should know it, the information he had 
 given could be read in evidence against Jackson." From the cha-. 
 ractcr of Lawler, however, it was generally suspected that assassina- 
 tion was intended. 
 
 f Examples of honourable conduct, no matter by whom dis- 
 played, are heard with pleasure by every friend to human nature. 
 Of such, a very rare instance was given by this gentleman during 
 his imprisonment. For the whole of that period he was treated 
 with every possible indulgence ; a fact so creditable to the Irish go- 
 vernment, that it would be unjust to suppress it. Among the 
 other acts of lenity extended to him, was a permission to enjoy the 
 society of his friends. A sliort time before iiis trial, one of these 
 remained with him to a late hour of the night : wlien he »vas about
 
 276 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 He was convicted, and brought up for judgment 
 on the 30th of April 1795.* 
 
 to depart, Mr Jackson accompanied him as far as the place 
 ■where the gaoler usually waited upon such occasions, until all his 
 prisoners' visitors should have retired. They found the gaoler in 
 a profound sleep, and the keys of the prison lying beside him. 
 " Poor fellow !" said Mr Jackson, taking up the keys, " let us not 
 disturb him ; I have already been too troublesome to him in tliis 
 way." He proceeded with his friend to the outer door of the prison, 
 which he opened. Here the facility of escaping naturally struck 
 him, — he became deeply agitated; but after a moment's pause, 
 " / could do it,'" said he, " but what would be the consequences to 
 you, and to the poor fellow who has been so kind to me ? No ! let 
 me rather meet my fate." He said no more, but locking the 
 prison door again, returned to his apartment. It should be added, 
 that the gentleman, out of consideration for whom such an oppor- 
 tunity was sacrificed, gave a proof upon this occasion that he de- 
 served it. He was fully aware of the legal consequences of aiding 
 in the escape of a prisoner committed under a charge of high trea- 
 son, and felt that in the present instance, it would have been utterly 
 impossible for him to disprove the circumstantial evidence that 
 would have appeared against him; yet he never uttered a syllable 
 to dissuade his unfortunate friend. He however considered the 
 temptation to be so irresistible, that, expecting to find the prisoner, 
 upon farther reflection, availing himself of it, he remained all night 
 outside the prison door, with the intention, if Mr Jackson should 
 escape, of instantly flying from Ireland. 
 
 This anecdote is related in less detail by Mr Thomas Addis 
 Emmet, in Mac Neven's Pieces of Irish History. 
 
 • The report of Mr Curran's defence of Jackson will be found 
 in the lately published volume of Howell's State Trials. It was
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 277 
 
 It is at this stage of the proceedings that the case 
 of Jackson becomes terribly peculiar. Never, per- 
 haps, did a British court of justice exhibit a spec- 
 tacle of such appalling interest as was witnessed by 
 the King's Bench of Ireland upon the day that 
 this unfortunate gentleman was summoned to hear 
 his fate pronounced. He had a day or two be- 
 fore made some allusions to the subject of suicide. 
 In a conversation with his counsel in the prison, 
 he had observed to them, that his food was always 
 cut in pieces before it was brought to him, the 
 gaoler not venturing to trust him with a knife or 
 fork. This precaution he ridiculed, and observed, 
 " that the man who feared not death, could never 
 want the means of dying, and that as long as his 
 head was within reach of the prison-wall, he could 
 prevent his body's being suspended to scare the 
 community." At the moment, they i*egardcd this 
 as a mere casual ebullition, and did not give it 
 much attention. 
 
 On the morning of the 30th of April, as one of 
 these gentlemen was proceeding to court, he met 
 
 (as he observed himself) " a narrow case," and afforded few mate- 
 rials for the display of eloquence. The principal [joints which he 
 urged, were the necessity of two witnesses (as in England), and 
 the impeached character of the single witness, Cockayne.
 
 278 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 in the streets a person warmly attached to the go- 
 vernment of the day. The circumstance is trivial^ 
 but it marks the party spirit that prevailed, and 
 the manner in which it was sometimes expressed; 
 •*« I liave (said he) just seen your client, Jackson, 
 •pass by on his way to the King's Bench to receive 
 sentence of death. I always said he was a coward, 
 and I find I was not mistaken ; his fears have made 
 him sick — as the coach drove by, I observed him, 
 with his head out of the window, vomiting vio- 
 lently." The other hurried on to the court, 
 where he found his client supporting himself 
 against the dock. His frame was in a state of 
 violent perturbation, but his mind was still col- 
 lected. He beckoned to his counsel to approach 
 him, and making an effort to squeeze him with 
 his damp and nerveless hand, uttered in a whisper, 
 and with a smile of mournful triumph, the dying- 
 words of Pierre, 
 
 " We have deceived the senate." » 
 
 The prisoner's counsel having detected what 
 they conceived to be a legal informality in the 
 proceedings, intended to make a motion in arrest 
 
 * Otway's Venice Preserved,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 279 
 
 of his judgment; but it would have been irregular 
 to do so until the counsel for the crown, who had 
 not yet appeared, should first pray the judgment 
 of the court upon him. During this interval, the 
 violence of the prisoner's indisposition momentarily 
 increased, and the chief-justice. Lord Clonmel, 
 was speaking of remanding him, when the attor- 
 ney-general came in, and called upon the court 
 to pronounce judgment upon him. Accordingly, 
 " the Rev. William Jackson was set forward," 
 and presented a spectacle equally shocking and 
 affecting. His body was in a state of profuse per- 
 spiration ; when his hat was removed, a dense 
 steam was seen to ascend from his head and tem- 
 ples ; minute and irregular movements of convul- 
 sion were passing to and fro upon his counte- 
 nance*; his eyes were nearly closed, and, when at 
 intervals they opened, discovered by the glare of 
 death upon them, that the hour of dissolution was 
 at hand. When called on to stand up before the 
 court, he collected the remnant of liis force to 
 hold himself erect; but the attempt was tottering 
 and imperfect: he stood rocking from side to 
 side, with his arms, in the attitude of firmness, 
 crossed over his breast, and his countenance 
 strained by a last proud effort into an expression
 
 280 LIFE or CURRAH?. 
 
 of elaborate composure. In this condition be 
 faced all the anger of the offended law, and the 
 more confounding gazes of the assembled crowd. 
 The clerk of the crown now ordered him to hold 
 up his right hand. The dying man disentangled 
 it from the other, and held it up, but it instantly 
 dropped again. Such was his state, when, in the 
 solemn simplicity of the language of the law, he 
 was asked, " What he had now to say, why judg- 
 ment of death and execution thereon should not 
 be awarded against him, according to law ?" Upon 
 this Mr Curran rose, and addressed some argu- 
 ments to the court in arrest of judgment. A legal 
 discussion of considerable length ensued. The 
 condition of Mr Jackson was all this while be- 
 coming worse. Mr Curran proposed that he 
 should be remanded, as he was in a state of body 
 that rendered any communication between him 
 and his counsel impracticable : Lord Clonmel 
 thought it lenity to the prisoner to dispose of 
 the question as speedily as possible. The win- 
 dows of the court were thrown open to relieve 
 him, and the discussion was renewed; but the 
 fatal group of death-tokens were now collecting 
 fast around him; he was evidently in the final 
 agony. At length, while Mr Ponsonby, who fol-
 
 LIFt: OF CURRAN. 281 
 
 lowed Mr Curran, was urging further reasons for 
 arresting the judgment, their client simk in the 
 dock.* 
 
 The conclusion of the scene is given, as follows, 
 in the reported trial. 
 
 Lord Clonmel.^ — " If the prisoner is in a state 
 of insensibility, it is impossible that I can pro- 
 nounce the judgment of the court upon him." 
 
 Mr Thomas Kinsley, who was in the jury box, 
 said he would go down to him : he accordingly 
 
 • As soon as the cause of Sir Jackson's death was ascertained, 
 a report prevailed that his counsel had been previously in the se- 
 cret, and that their motion in arrest of judgment was made for the 
 sole purpose of giving their client time to expire before sentence 
 could be passed upon him: but for the assertion of this fact, 
 which, if true, would have placed them in as strange and aw^ul a 
 situation as can well be imagined, there was no foundation. So 
 little prepared were they for such an event, that neither of his as- 
 signed counsel (Messrs Curran and Ponsonby) appeared in court 
 until a considerable time after the prisoner had been brought up. 
 It was Mr M'Nally, who had been one of his assistant counsel upon 
 the trial, and who found him in the condition above described, that 
 first became acquainted with the fact of his having taken poison ; 
 and he, at the request of the unfortunate prisoner, rose as amicus 
 curue, for the purpose of occupying the court till the others should 
 arrive and make their intended motion. It was probably from this 
 circumstance that the report originated.
 
 £82 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 went into the dock, and in a short time informed 
 the court that the prisoner was certainly dying. 
 By order of the court IMr Kinsley was sworn. 
 Lord Clonmel. — " Arc you in any profession ?" 
 Mr Kinsley. — " I am an apothecary." 
 Lord Clonmel. — " Can you speak with cer- 
 tainty of the state of the prisoner ?" 
 
 Mr Kinsley. — " I can ; I think him verging to 
 eternity." 
 
 Lord Clonmel.—" Do you think him capable 
 of hearing his judgment ?" 
 
 Mr Kinsley. — " I do not think he can." 
 Lord Clonmel. — " Then he must be taken away : 
 take care that in sending him away no mischief be 
 done. Let him be remanded until further orders; 
 and I beheve it as much for his advantage as for 
 all of yours to adjourn." 
 
 The sheriff informed the court that the prisoner 
 was dead. 
 
 Lord Clonmel. — " Let an inquisition, and a re- 
 spectable one, be held on the body. You should 
 carefully inquire by what means he died." 
 
 The court then adjourned, and the body of the 
 deceased remained in the dock, unmoved from the 
 position in which he had expired, until the fol- 
 lowing day, when an inquest was held. A large
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 283 
 
 quantity of metallic poison was found in his 
 stomach. The preceding day, a little before he 
 was brought up to court, the gaoler having visited 
 his room, found him with his wife, much agitated, 
 and vomiting violently ; he had just taken, he 
 said, some tea, which disagreed with him : so that 
 there remained no doubt that the unfortunate pri- 
 soner, to save himself and his family the shame 
 of an ignominous execution, had anticipated the 
 punishment of the laws by taking poison. 
 
 The following sentences, in his own hand-writ- 
 ing, were found in his pocket. 
 
 " Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon 
 rae, for I am desolate and afflicted." 
 
 " The troubles of my heart are enlarged : Oh 
 bring thou me out of my distresses." 
 
 " Look upon my affliction and my pain, and 
 forgive all my sins." 
 
 <' Oh ! keep my soul and deliver me. Let me 
 jiot be ashamed, for I put my trust in thee." 
 
 Independent of this awful scene, the trial of 
 Jackson was a memorable event. It was the fii'st 
 trial for high treason which had occurred in that 
 court for upwards of a century. As a matter of 
 legal and of constitutional interest, it established 
 a precedent of the most vital (Englishmen would
 
 284< LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 say, of the most fatal) importance to a community 
 liaving any pretensions to freedom. Against the 
 authority of Coke, and the reasoning of Black- 
 stone, and against the positive reprobation of the 
 principle by the English legislature, it was solemn- 
 ly decided in Jackson's case, that in Ireland one 
 witness was sufficient to convict a prisoner upon 
 a charge of high treason — " that the breath which 
 cannot even taint the character of a man in Encr- 
 land, shall in Ireland blow him from the earth."* 
 This decision has ever since been recognized and 
 acted upon, to the admiration of that class of po- 
 liticians (and they have abounded in Ireland) who 
 contend, that in every malady of the state, blood 
 should be plentifully drawn ; and to the honest 
 indignation of men of equal capacity and integri- 
 ty, who consider that, without reason or necessity, 
 it establishes an odious distinction, involving in it 
 a disdain of what Englishmen boast as a precious 
 privilege, alluring accusations upon the subject, 
 and conferring security and omnipotence upon the 
 informer. 
 
 It is a little singular to observe, in the state 
 trials that followed, the effects of such a law, and 
 
 * Mr Curran's defence of Jackson.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 285 
 
 to what a class of witnesses it familiarized the Irish 
 courts of justice. From the event it would appear, 
 that there was as much of prophecy, as of consti- 
 tutional zeal, in Mr Curran's efforts to prevent its 
 establishment, and afterwards to produce its re- 
 peal.* To say nothing but of a few of those cases 
 
 * Two days after Jackson's conviction, Mr Curran moved in 
 the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill for amending 
 the law of Ireland in cases of high treason, and assimilating it 
 ■with that of England. 
 
 The attorney-general earnestly entreated of the mover to post- 
 pone tlie introduction of this bill, lest it might throw a character of 
 illegality upon Jackson's conviction. He believed that the present 
 difference in the law of the two countries (as to the number of 
 witnesses required) did not arise from casual omission, but from 
 serious deliberation; it was (he thought) rather necessary to 
 strengthen the crown against the popular crime, than to strengthen 
 the criminal against the crown. 
 
 Mr Curran differed, and considered the rock on which criminal 
 law generally split was its excessive severity. For the reason first 
 assigned, however, he agreed to postpone the bill ; but foreseeing 
 its inevitable failure, he never brought it forward again. 
 
 In England, by different statutes regulating trials for high trea- 
 son, two witnesses are required. (Algernon Sydney's attainder, 
 as is well known, was reversed, because, among other reasons, 
 there had been but one legal witness to any act of treason.) When 
 those statutes were enacted in Ireland, the clauses requiring two 
 Avitncsscs were omitted. Upon Jackson's trial, therefore, the qucs-
 
 286 ' LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 in which he acted as counsel, the fates of Jackson, 
 Weldon, M'Cann, Byrne, Bond, the Sheareses, 
 
 tion was, what had been the old common law of England. Lord 
 Coke lays it down, that by that law one witness was never suffi- 
 cient. Judge Foster, difiering from him, gives it as his, and as 
 the general opinion, that two were not required by the common 
 law. Of the same opinion is Sergeant Hawkins. These (accord- 
 ing to the report of Jackson's trial) were the only authorities refer- 
 red to by Lord Clonmel in deciding the point. For the contrarie- 
 ty of opinions upon this subject, see the proceedings in Sir J. Fen- 
 wick's case, State Trials. 
 
 It cannot be too much lamented, that in such an important par- 
 ticular, the law of the two countries should thus diifer. The prin- 
 ciple cannot be right in both. Inferior regulations may vary, but 
 the laws that provide for the safety of the state and the security of 
 the subject are not local ordinances; they are general laws, and 
 should be founded on the principles which are to be derived from 
 an experience of the operation of human passions, and of the value 
 of human testimony. In Ireland, it has been said, that from tlie 
 state of society, the crown demanded additional security : but the 
 same argument applies as strongly the other way ; for if any com- 
 munity is in such a state of demoralization that its members are 
 found violating their oatha, and indulging their passions by fre- 
 quent acts of treason, is it not equally clear that they will not re- 
 frain from doing the same by frequent acts of perjured evidence ? 
 Whoever will submit to the " penance" of reading the English or 
 Irish state tiials, will soon perceive that treason and peijury are 
 always cotemporary crimes, and that the dangers of the crown and 
 of the subject are at every period reciprocal and commensurate;
 
 LIFE or C'JRRAN. 287 
 
 Finney, rested almost entirely on the credibility of 
 a single witness. All of these, except the last, 
 were convicted ; and that they were involved in the 
 projects for which they were tried and suffered, 
 is now a matter of historical notoriety. Few, it is 
 hoped, will maintain the dangerous principle, that 
 the subject should have the inducement of impunity 
 to conspire against the state — such a doctrine would 
 bring instant ruin upon any society; but every 
 friend to constitutional law will distinguish be- 
 tween the evidence that precedes a conviction and 
 that which follows ; he will remember that the 
 forms of trial, and the legality of evidence, have 
 not been established for the solitary purpose of 
 punishing the guilty ; that their most precious use 
 is for the security of innocence; and that if, fore- 
 
 Ccrtainly, as the laws at present stand, either the English subject 
 enjoys too many privileges, or tlie Irish too few ; but that the for- 
 mer is not the case, long experience has now incontestably esta- 
 blished. 
 
 Since the above was written, an act of Parliament has passed 
 making two witnesses necessary to a conviction for high treason in 
 Ireland. Tor this important amendment of the law, the public is 
 indebted to the exertions of Lord Holland.
 
 288 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 judging the real offender, we too hastily deprive 
 him of a single privilege of defence, we establish 
 a perilous rule that survives the occasion and ex- 
 tends beyond it, and of which those who never 
 offended may hereafter be the victims. If the 
 trials of the individuals just named be considered 
 with a reference to this view, they will be found 
 to contain matter of important reflection. We 
 may not feel justified in lamenting their personal 
 fate — in giving to their memories " the traitorous 
 humanity and the rebel tear," yet we cannot but 
 be shocked at the characters of the persons by 
 whose evidence they were carried off. These 
 were, all of them, men of blighted reputation. It 
 was not merely that they had been accomplices in 
 the crimes which they came to denounce ; and that, 
 finding the speculation dangerous and unprofit- 
 able, they endeavoured to retrieve their credit and 
 circumstances, by setting up as " loyal apostates." 
 Deeper far was, if not their legal offence, their 
 moral depravity. Dreadful were the confessions 
 of guilt, dishonour, and irreligion, extorted from 
 these wretches. If their direct examination pro- 
 duced a list of the prisoners' crimes, as regularly 
 did their cross-examination elicit a darker cata- 
 logue of their own. In the progress of their
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 289 
 
 career from participation to discovery, all the 
 tender charities of life were abused — every sacred 
 tie rent asunder. The agent, by the semblance 
 of fidelity, extracted the secret of his client and 
 his friend, and betrayed him ! * The spy resorted 
 to the habitation of his victim, and, while sharing 
 his hospitality, and fondling his children, was 
 meditating his ruin.f Here was to be seen the 
 
 • Jackson's Trial. 
 
 f Jackson's Trial and the Trial of the Sheareses. A few days 
 before Cockayne bad openly announced himself as an informer, lie 
 ■was invited to accompany Jackson to dine with a friend of the 
 latter. After dinner, as soon as the wine had sufficiently circulat- 
 ed, Jackson, according to a previous suggestion from Cockayne, 
 began to sound the political dispositions of the company, and par- 
 ticularly addressed himself to a gentleman of rank who sat beside 
 him, and who, there has been subsequent reason to believe, was 
 deeply involved in the politics of the time. During the conversa- 
 tion, Cockayne appeared to have fallen asleep ; but, in the midst of 
 it, the master of the house was called out by his servant, who in- 
 formed him, that he had observed something very singular in Mr 
 Jackson's friend — " he has his hand," said the servant, " over his 
 face, and pretends to be asleep ; but when I was in the room just 
 now, I could perceive the glistening of his eye through his fingers." 
 The gentleman returned to his guests ; and, whispering to him 
 who was conversing with Jackson to be cautious in his language, 
 probably prevented some avowal which might eventually have cost 
 him his life. Upon such trivial accidents do the fates of men de- 
 pend in agitated times ! 
 
 roL. r, U
 
 290 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 wild atheist, who had gloried in his incredulity, 
 enjoying a lucid interval of faith, to stamp a legal 
 value on his oath* — there the dishonest dealer, the 
 acknowledged perjurer, the future murderer.f 
 
 It has been often a matter of surprise that juries 
 had not the firmness to spurn altogether the testi- 
 mony of such delinquents. In England, upon a 
 recent occasion,:}: a jury did so; but in Ireland 
 there raged, at this time, an epidemic panic. In 
 the delirious fever of the moment, even though 
 the juror might not have thirsted for the blood of 
 the accused, he yet trembled for his own ; — af- 
 frighted by actual danger, or by the phantoms of 
 his disturbed imagination, he became blind or 
 indifferent to the horrors of the immediate scene. 
 The question was often, not whether the witness 
 was a man he could believe, but whether his ver- 
 dict dare assert the contrary. Perhaps the more 
 flagitious the witness, the more absolutely was he 
 the tyrant of the juror's conscience. Any move- 
 ments of humanity or indignation in the breast of 
 the latter must have instantly been quelled by the 
 recollection, that to yield to them might be to 
 
 * Trial of the Sheareses. 
 
 I Finney's Trial ; and the other State Trials of 1798. 
 
 ^ Trial of Watson and others for high treason.
 
 Q 
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 291 
 
 point out himself as an object of suspicion, and as 
 the next experiment for an adventurous and irri- 
 tated informer. 
 
 It is in the same circumstances that we are to 
 look for an excuse (if excuse be necessary) for 
 those impassioned appeals, for that tone of high 
 and solemn obtestation, by which Mr Curran's 
 professional efforts at this period are distinguish- 
 ed. In more tranquil times, or in a more tranquil 
 country, such enthusiasm may appear extravagant 
 and unnatural ; but it should be remembered, that, 
 from the nature of the cases, and the character of 
 his audience, his address often became rather a 
 religious exhortation than a mere forensic ha- 
 rangue.* His situation v/as very different from 
 
 * Of this, examples will occur in the following pages. Upon 
 inferior occasions we find him impressing the most obvious politi- 
 cal truths, by a simplicity of illustration, which shews the descrip- 
 tion of men among whom he was thrown. When he wished to ex- 
 plain to a jury, " that their country could never be prosperous, or 
 happy, without a general participation of happiness to all its peo- 
 ple," he thus proceeds; — " A privileged order in a state may, in 
 some sort, be compared to a solitary individual separated from the 
 society, and unaided by the reciprocal converse, affections, or sup- 
 port of his fellow men. It is like a tree standing singly on a high 
 hill, and exposed to the rude concussions of every varying blast, 
 devoid of fruit or foliage. If you plant trees around it, to shade it
 
 292 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 that of the English advocate, who, presupposing 
 in his hearers a respect for the great fundamental 
 principles of law and of ethics, securely appeals to 
 them, in the conviction, that, if his client deserves 
 it, he shall have all their benefit. In Ireland the 
 client was not certain of all their benefit. In Ire- 
 land, dui'ing those distracted days, every furious 
 passion was abroad. The Irish advocate knew 
 that the juries with whom he had to deal were 
 often composed of men, whose feelings of huma- 
 nity and religion were kept under by their politi- 
 
 from the inclemency of the blighting tempest, and secure to it its 
 adequate supply of sun and moisture, it quickly assumes all the 
 luxuriance of vegetation, and proudly rears its head aloft, fortified 
 against the noxious gales which agitate and wither the unprotected 
 brambles lying without the verge of the plantation. Upon this 
 principle acted the dying man, whose family had been disturbed by 
 domestic contentions. Upon his death-bed he calls his children 
 around him; he orders a bundle of twigs to be brought; he has 
 them untied ; he gives to each of them a single twig ; he orders 
 them to be broken, and it is done with facility ; he next orders the 
 twigs to be united in a bundle, and directs each of them to try his 
 strength upon it. They shrink from the task as impossible. 
 ' Thus, my children, (continued the old man) it is union alone that 
 can render you secure against the attempts of your enemies, and 
 preserve you in that state of happiness which I wish you to en- 
 joy.' " — Speech in Defence of Bird, Hamill, and others, tried at 
 Drogheda, 1794.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 298 
 
 cal prejudices — that they had already foredoomed 
 his client to the grave — that, bringing with them 
 the accumulated animosities of past centuries, they 
 came less to try the prisoner than to justify them- 
 selves, and make their verdict a vote of approba- 
 tion upon the politics of their party.* To make 
 
 * The following observations of Mr Curran will give some idea 
 of Uie juries of those days : he is addressing a jury impannelled to 
 try the validity of a challenge. 
 
 " This is no common period in the history of the world — they 
 are no ordinary transactions that are now passing before us. All 
 Europe is shaken to its centre ; we feel its force, and are likely to 
 be involved in its consequences. There is no man who has sense 
 enough to be conscious of his own existence, who can hold himself 
 disengaged and unconcerned amidst the present scenes: and, to 
 hear a man say that he is unbiassed and unprejudiced, is the surest 
 proof that he is both. Prejudice is the cobweb that catches vulgar 
 minds ; but the prejudices of the present day float in the upper re- 
 gions — they entangle the lofty heads — they are bowing them down 
 — you see them as they flutter, and hear them as they buzz. Mr 
 
 has become a very public and a very active man : he has his 
 
 mind, I doubt not, stored with the most useful and extensive eru- 
 dition — he is clothed with the sacred office of a minister of the gos- 
 pel — ^he is a magistrate of the county — he is employed as agent to 
 some large properties — he is reputably connected, and universally 
 esteemed, and therefore is a man of no small weight and considera- 
 tion in this county. He has more than once positively sworn that 
 he applied to the high sheriflT — that he struck off no names but 
 those that wanted freeholds ; but to-day he finds that freeholders
 
 294; LIFE OF CURRAN, 
 
 an impression upon such men, he had to awaken 
 their dormant sympathies by reiterated statements 
 of the first principles of morals and religion : he 
 addressed himself to their eternal fears, his object 
 being frequently not so much to direct their minds 
 to the evidence or the law, as to remind them of 
 the Christian duties; and, even in those cases 
 where both law and fact were upon his side, and 
 where, under other circumstances, he might have 
 
 were struck off by his own pen— he tells you, my lords, and gentle- 
 men triers, with equal modesty and ingenuity, that he has made a 
 mistake — ^he returns eighty-one names to the sheriff— he receives 
 blank summonses, fills what he deems convenient, &c. Gracious 
 Heaven ! what are the courts of justice ? what is trial by jury ? what 
 is the country brought to ? Were it told in the courts above — were 
 it told in other countries — were it told in Westminster Hall, that 
 such a man was permitted to return nearly one-half of the grand 
 panel of the country from one particular district, — a district under 
 severe distress, — to which be is agent, and on which, with the au- 
 thority he possesses, he is able to bring great calamity ! He ascends 
 the pulpit with the gospel of benignity and peace — he endeavours 
 to impress himself and others with its meek and holy spirit : he 
 descends — throws off the purple — seizes the insurrection act in the 
 one hand, and the whip in the other — flies by night and by day 
 after his game ; and, witli his heart panting, his breath exhausted, 
 and his belly on the ground in the chase, he turns round, and tells 
 you that his mind is unprejudiced — that his breast is full of soft- 
 ness and humanity." — Down Assizes, 1795.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 295 
 
 boldly demanded an acquittal, he was in reality 
 labouring to extort a pardon. 
 
 It was with the same view that he so often made 
 the most impassioned appeals, even to the bench, 
 when he saw that its political feelings wei*e hostile 
 to the interests of his client. Thus, upon the trial 
 pf Hamilton Rowan, the principal witness for the 
 crown having deposed that he had seen Mr Rowan 
 at a meeting of United Irishmen, consisting of 
 150 persons, and his evidence upon this most ma- 
 terial fact having been impeached, the chief-jus-^ 
 tice (Lord Clonmel), in his charge to the jury, 
 observed, " One hundred and fifty volunteers, or 
 United Irishmen, and not one comes forward ! 
 Many of them would have been proud to assist 
 him (the traverser). Their silence speaks a tliou- 
 sand times more strongly than any cavilling upon 
 this man^s credit — the silence of such a number is a 
 volume of evidence in support of the prosecution^* 
 Upon a motion for a new trial, Mr Curran, in 
 commenting upon those expressions, could not 
 refrain from exclaiming, " I never before heard 
 
 * This passage of Lord Clonmers charge was omitted, and, no 
 doubt, designedly, in the original edition of Hamilton liowan's 
 trial, published in Dublin. See a note of the London Editor.—- 
 aiale Trials, 1794.
 
 296 LIFE OF CURKAN. 
 
 an intimation from any judge to a jury, that bad 
 evidence, liable to any and every exception, ought 
 to receive a sanction from the silence of the party. 
 With anxiety for the honour and religion of the 
 law, I demand it of you, must not the jury have 
 understood that this silence was evidence to go to 
 them ? Is the meaning contained in the expres- 
 sion ' a volume of evidence' only insinuation ? I 
 do not know where any man could be safe — I do 
 not know what any man could do to screen him- 
 self from prosecution — I know not how he could 
 be secure, even when he was at prayers before the 
 throne of Heaven, that he was not passing that 
 moment of his life in which he was to be charged 
 with the commission of some crime, to be expiated 
 to society by the loss of his liberty or of his life ; 
 — I do not know what shall become of the sub- 
 ject, if the jury are to be told that the silence of a 
 man charged, is ' a volume of evidence' that he is 
 guilty of the crime. Where is it written ? I know 
 there is a place where vulgar frenzy cries out 
 that the public instrument must be drenched in 
 blood — where defence is gagged, and the devoted 
 wretch must perish. But even there the victim 
 of such tyranny is not made to fill, by voluntary 
 silence, the defects of his accusation ; for his tongue
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 297 
 
 is tied, and therefore no advantage is taken of him 
 by construction : it cannot be there said that his , 
 not speaking is ' a volume of evidence' to prove 
 his guilt." After some farther observations, he 
 thus concluded his argument — " You are stand- 
 ing on a narrow isthmus, that divides the great 
 ocean of duration — on the one side of the past, on 
 the other of the future — a ground, that, while you 
 yet hear me, is washed from beneath your feet. 
 Let me remind you, my lords, while your deter- 
 mination is yet in your power, — dum versatiir ad- 
 huc intra penetralia Vested, — that on that ocean of 
 the future you must set your judgment afloat; and 
 future ages will assume the same authority which 
 you have assumed ; posterity will feel the same 
 emotions which you have felt, when your little 
 hearts have beaten, and your infant eyes have 
 overflowed, at reading the sad story of the suffer- 
 ings of a Russel or a Sydney." 
 
 All this has been represented as very strange, 
 and even absurd, by those who would not reflect 
 upon the state of the times, and the necessity 
 which it imposed upon the advocate of addressing 
 the passions which he knew to be actuating his 
 hearers, no matter to what order of the commu- 
 nity tliey might belong.
 
 298 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr Curran moves an address to the throne for an inquiry into 
 the state of the poor — Other parliamentary questions— Mr Pon- 
 sonby's plan of reform rejected^Secession of Mr Curran and 
 his friends — Orr's trial — Finnerty'a trial — Finney's trial — The^ 
 informer James O'Brien. 
 
 In May, 1795, Mr Curran moved an address to 
 the throne upon the distresses of Ireland, the re- 
 call of Lord Fitzwilliam, and the misconduct of 
 his majesty's ministers in their government of Ire- 
 land. It was not expected by the opposition that 
 this motion would be carried : their object in 
 bringing it forward was merely to leave a record 
 of their opinions upon the subjects contained in 
 the address.* Mr Curran prefaced his motion by 
 
 * This address, after a few prefatory clauses stating the attach- 
 ment of the Commons to his majesty's person, and the monarchical 
 form of government, and their late extraordinary supplies for car- 
 rying on the present most eventful war, proceeds — 
 
 That we were the more induced to this, from a zeal for his ma- 
 jesty's service, and an attachment to Great Britain ; but accom- 
 panied with an expectation that our extraordinary grants would be
 
 LIFE OF CURBAN. 299 
 
 a long speech, in the course of which he empha- 
 tically warned the House of the dangers that im- 
 
 justified to our constituents by a reform, under a patriot viceroy, of 
 the various and manifold abuses that had taken place in the admi- 
 nistration of the Irish government; a reformation which we con- 
 ceived, in the present times, and under such an increase of debt 
 and taxes, indispensable, and which we do, therefore, most hum- 
 bly persist to implore and expect. 
 
 That, after the supply was granted, and the force voted, and 
 wliilst the chief governor, possessing the entire confidence of both 
 Houses of Parliament, and the approbation of all the people, was 
 reforming abuses, and putting the country in a state of defence, he 
 was suddenly and prematurely recalled, and our unparalleled ef- 
 forts for the support of his majesty answered by the strongest 
 marks of the resentment of his ministers. 
 
 That, in consequence of such a proceeding, the business of go- 
 vernment was interrupted, the defence of the country suspended, 
 the unanimity, which had under the then lord-lieutenant existed, 
 converted into just complaint and remonstrance, and the energy, 
 confidence, and zeal of the nation, so loudly called for by his ma- 
 jesty's ministers, were, by the conduct of those very ministers them- 
 selves, materially affected. 
 
 That these their late proceedings aggravated their past system ; 
 in complaining of which, we particularly refer to the notorious 
 traffic of honours — to the removal of the troops contrary to the 
 law and in total disregard of the solemn compact with the nation, 
 and safety of the realm — to the criminal conduct of government 
 respecting the Irish army — to the disbursements of sums of money, 
 without account or authority — to the improvident grant of rever- 
 sions, at the expense of his majesty's interest, sacrificed, for the
 
 300 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 pended over the public tranquillity ; but upon 
 this, as upon many former occasions, his predic- 
 tions were disregarded. " I know," said he, 
 *' that this is not a time when the passions of the 
 public ought to be inflamed ; nor do I mean to 
 inflame them — (rmirmnrs from the other side of the 
 House). Yes, I speak not to inflame ; but I ad- 
 dress you in order to allay the fever of the public 
 mind. If I had power to warn you, I would ex- 
 ert that power in order to diminish the public fer- 
 ment — in order to show the people that they have 
 
 emolument of his servants — to the conduct of his majesty's minis- 
 ters in both countries towards his protestant and catholic subjects 
 of Ireland, alternately practising on their passions, exciting their 
 hope, and procuring their disappointment. 
 
 That, convinced by the benefits which we have received under 
 his majesty's reign, that the grievances of which we complain are 
 as unknown to his majesty as abhorrent from his paternal and royal 
 disposition. 
 
 We, his Commons of Ireland, beg leave to lay ourselves at his 
 feet, and, with all humility to his majesty, to prefer, on our part, 
 and on the part of our constituents, this our just and necessary re- 
 monstrance against the conduct of his ministers ; and to implore 
 his majesty that he may be graciously pleased to lay his commands 
 upon his minister to second the zeal of his Irish Parliament in his 
 majesty's services, by manifesting in future to the people of Ire- 
 land due regard and attention. ■ *
 
 LIFE OF CURUAN. 301 
 
 more security in your warmth than they can have 
 in their own heat — that the ardour of your honest 
 zeal may be a salutary ventilator to the ferment of 
 your country — in order that you may take the 
 people out of their own hands, and bring them 
 within your guidance. Trust me, at this mo- 
 mentous crisis, a firm and tempered sensibility of 
 injury would be equally honourable to yourselves 
 and beneficial to the nation : trust me, if, at a time 
 when every little stream is swollen into a torrent, 
 we alone should be found to exhibit a smooth, 
 and listless, and frozen surface, the folly of the 
 people may be tempted to walk across us ; and, 
 whether they should suppose they were only walk- 
 ing upon ice, or treading upon corruption, the 
 rashness of the experiment might be fatal to us 
 
 all." 
 
 In the beginning of the following year Mr Cur- 
 ran moved, " that a committee should be appointed 
 to inquire into the state of the lower orders of the 
 people," to whose wretchedness he attributed the 
 prevailing discontents; but his motion was, as 
 usual, " suffocated by the question of adjourn- 
 ment." He also distinguished himself by his 
 support of Mr Grattan's amendments to the ad- 
 dresses in this year, by his exertions on the question
 
 302 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 of catholic emancipation, and by his opposition to 
 the suspension of the habeas corpus act. 
 
 His last parliamentary effort was in the debate 
 on Mr William Brabazon Ponsonby's plan of 
 parliamentary reform,* which included catholic 
 emancipation, and was brought forward by the 
 opposition as a final experiment to save Ireland 
 from the horrors of the impending rebellion. By 
 the late report of the secret committee, it had 
 appeared that extensive associations for treasona- 
 ble objects existed throughout the country : the 
 administration considered that force alone should 
 be resorted to — the opposition were as decided 
 that conciliation, and conciliation alone, would 
 restore tranquillity. The ostensible objects of the 
 conspiracy were reform and catholic emancipa- 
 tion : the administration admitted that these were 
 merely pretexts, and that revolution was the real 
 though covert design ; but they argued, " that 
 the House ought to make a stand, and say that 
 rebellion must be put doum, before the grievances 
 that were made its pretext should be even dis- 
 cussed." To this it was answered by Mr Curran, 
 " if. reform he only a pretence, and separation be 
 
 * May 15. 1797.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 303 
 
 tlie real objects of the leaders of the conspiracy, 
 confound the leaders by destroying the pretext, 
 and take the followers to yourselves. You say 
 they are 100,000, — I firmly believe they are three 
 times the number, — so much the better for you. 
 If these seducers can attach so many followers to 
 rebellion, by the hope of reform through blood, 
 how much more readily will you engage them, 
 not by the promise, but the possession, and with- 
 out blood. Reform (he continued) is a necessary 
 chancre of mildness for coercion : the latter has 
 been tried, and what is its success ? The convention 
 bill was passed to punish the meetings at Dungan- 
 non and those of the catholics : the government 
 considered the catholic concessions as defeats that 
 called for vengeance— and cruelly have they aveng- 
 ed them ; but did that act, or those which follow- 
 ed, put down those meetings ? the contrary was 
 the fact ; it most foolishly concealed them. When 
 popular discontents arc abroad, a wise government 
 should put them into an hive of glass ; — you hid 
 them. The association at first was small — the 
 earth seemed to drink it as a rivulet ; — but it only 
 disappeared for a season: — a thousand" streams, 
 through the secret v.'indings of the earth, found 
 their way to one source, and swelled its waters ;
 
 304? . LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 until at last, too mighty to be contained, it burst 
 out a great river, fertilizing by its exundations, or 
 terrifying by its cataracts. This was the effect of 
 your penal code — it swelled sedition into rebellion. 
 What else could be hoped from a system of terro- 
 rism ? Fear is the most transient of all the passions 
 — it is the warning that nature gives for self- 
 preservation ; but when safety is unattainable, the 
 warning must be useless, and nature does not 
 therefore give it. The administration mistook 
 the quality of penal laws : they were sent out to 
 abolish conventicles; but they did not pass the 
 threshold, they stood sentinels at the gates. You 
 thought that penal laws, like great dogs, would 
 wag their tails to their masters, and bark only at 
 their enemies : you were mistaken ; they turn and 
 devour those they were meant to protect, and 
 were harmless where they were intended to de- 
 stroy. Gentlemen, I see, laugh— I see they affect 
 to be still very ignorant of the nature of fear : — this 
 cannot last; — neither, while it does, can it be con- 
 cealed :— the feeble glimmering of a forced smile 
 is a light that makes the cheek look paler. Trust 
 me, the times are too humanized for such systems 
 of o-overnment — humanity will not execute them : 
 but humanity will abhor them, and those who
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 305 
 
 wished to rule by such means. We hoped much, 
 and, I doubt not, meant well by those laws ; but 
 they have miserably failed us : it is time to try 
 milder methods. You have tried to force the 
 people; but the rage of your penal laws was a 
 storm that only drove them in groups to shelter. 
 Before it is too late, therefore, try the better force 
 of reason, and conciliate them by justice and 
 humanity. Neither let us talk of innovation — 
 the progress of nature is no innovation — the in- 
 crease of people, the growth of the mind, is no 
 innovation, unless the growth of our minds lag 
 behind. If we think otherwise, and consider it 
 an innovation to depart from the folly of our 
 infancy, we should come here in our swaddling 
 clothes ; we should not innovate upon the dress 
 more than the understanding of the cradle. 
 
 " A3 to the system of peace now proposed, you 
 must take it on its principles; they are simply 
 two — the abolition of religious disabilities, and 
 the representation of the people. I am confident 
 the effects would be every thing to be wished; 
 the present alarming discontent will vanish, the 
 good will be separated from the ill-intentioned; 
 the friends of mixed government in Ireland are 
 
 VOL. r. X
 
 306 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 many — every sensible man must see that it gives 
 all the enjoyment of rational liberty, if the people 
 have their due place in the state. This system 
 would make us invincible against a foreign or do- 
 mestic enemy ; it would make the empire strong 
 at this important crisis; it would restore to us 
 liberty, industry, and peace, which I am satisfied 
 can never by any other means be restored." 
 
 The counsels of peace and conciliation which 
 Mr Curran and his friends now proposed to the 
 parliament were the last which they had to offer ; 
 and finding that they were to be rejected, they 
 resolved to take no farther part in deliberations, 
 where their interference was so unavailing. " I 
 agree, (said Mr Curran, in conclusion), that una- 
 nimity at this time is indispensable; the House 
 seems pretty unanimous for force ; I am sorry for 
 it, for I bode the worst from it : I shall retire 
 from a scene where I can do no good, and where 
 I should certainly disturb that unanimity ; I can- 
 not, however, go without a parting entreaty, that 
 men would reflect upon the awful responsibility in 
 which they stand to their country and to their 
 conscience, before they set an example to the 
 people of abandoning the constitution and the
 
 ilFE OP CURRAN. 307 
 
 law, and resorting to the terrible expedient of 
 force." * 
 
 * Mr Grattan, who followed Mr Curran, concluded his speech 
 by announchig the same intention : — " Your system is perilous in- 
 deed. I speak without asperity ; I speak without resentment ; I 
 speak, perJiaps, my delusion, but it is my heartfelt conviction — I 
 speak my apprehension for the immediate state of our Uberty, and 
 for the ultimate state of the empire : I see, or imagine I see, in 
 this system, every thing which is dangerous to both. — I hope I am 
 mistaken, at least I hope I exaggerate ; possibly I may ; if so, I 
 shall acknowledge my error with more satisfaction than is usual in 
 the acknowledgment of error. I cannot, however, banish from 
 my memory the lesson of the American war, and yet, at that time, 
 the English government was at the head of Europe, and was pos- 
 sessed of resources comparatively unbroken. If that lesson has no 
 effect on ministers, surely I can suggest nothing that will. We 
 have offered you our measure — you will reject it ; we deprecate 
 yours — you will persevere; having no hopes left to persuade or to 
 dissuade, and having discharged our duty, we shall trouble you no 
 more, and after this day shall not attend the House of Commons." 
 ^— Irish Par. Deb. May 15. 1797. 
 
 A few weeks after tlie secession of the opposition, Mr Grattan 
 addressed a letter to the citizens of Dublin, upon the part of him- 
 self and the other members of the minority, to explain their mo- 
 tives in taking that step. This letter, besides being a splendid mo- 
 nument of the writer's genius, is an important historical document, 
 and when confronted with the reports of secret committees and si- 
 milar official statements, will shew what an imperfect idea they con-i 
 vey of the real condition of the times. See the Appendix.
 
 308 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 TRIAL OF MR P. FINNERTY. 
 
 Mr Curran's next great professional exertion 
 was in the defence of Mr Finnerty, who was tried 
 in December 1797, for a hbel on the government 
 and person of the viceroy (Lord Camden). The 
 subject of the libel was the trial and execution of 
 a person named William Orr, which had taken 
 place a little before. Orr, who had been commit- 
 ted upon a charge of high treason, was arraigned 
 on an indictment, framed under the insurrection 
 act, for administering unlawful oaths, and con- 
 victed. A motion in arrest of judgment was 
 made, in the argument upon which Mr Curran, 
 w^ho was his leading counsel, is said to have dis- 
 played as much legal ability and affecting elo- 
 quence as upon any occasion of his life. This 
 argument is so imperfectly reported as to be un- 
 worthy of insertion. It contains, however, one 
 striking example of that peculiar idiom in which 
 he discussed the most technical questions. In con- 
 tending that the act, under which his client was 
 tried, had expired, he observes, " the mind of the 
 judge is the repository of the law that does exists 
 not of the law that did exist ; nor does the mercy
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 309 
 
 and justice of our law recognize so disgraceful an 
 office, as that of a judge becoming a sort of ad- 
 ministrator to a dead statute^ and collecting the 
 debts of blood that vcerc due to it i?i its lifetime.'^* 
 
 But all his efforts were unavailing ; his legal 
 objections were overruled by the bench ; and in 
 answer to what he had addressed to the feelings 
 of the court, the presiding judge, Lord Yelverton, 
 from whose mind classical associations were never 
 absent, adverted to a passage in the history of the 
 Roman commonwealth, where, after the expulsion 
 of the Tarquins, it was attempted by the Patri- 
 
 • Another of his arguments for arresting the judgment was, 
 * ' that the state had no right to wage a piratical war against the 
 subject under false colours:" — that Orr's offencb (supposing the 
 informer who gave evidence against hira to have sworn truly) 
 amounted to high treason, and that he should therefore have 
 been indicted under the constitutional statute relating to that 
 crime, from which the accused derive so many privileges of de- 
 fence. It may be necessary to inform some readers, that when acts 
 of high treason are made mere]y feloni/ by a particular statute, 
 the persons under trial lose, among other advantages, the benefit of 
 tlieir counsel's address to the jury, to which, had they been indicted 
 for high treason, they would have been entitled. Upon such oc- 
 casions, when Mr Curran, in addressing the court upon questions 
 of law, happened to let fall any observations upon the general rao- 
 rits of the case, he had to sustain the reproach of " attempting to 
 insinuate a speech to the jury."
 
 310 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 cians to restore royalty ; and the argument made 
 use of was, " that a government by laws was stern 
 and cruel, inasmuch as laws had neither hearts to 
 feel, nor ears to hear; whereas government by 
 kings was merciful, inasmuch as the sources of 
 humanity and tenderness were open to entreaty."* 
 " For my part, (added his Lordship), 1 am act- 
 ing under a government by laws, and am bound 
 to speak the voice of the law, which has neither 
 feelings nor passions." 
 
 But this excellent and feeling judge soon shew- 
 ed how little of legal insensibility belonged to his 
 own nature. When he came to pronounce sen- 
 tence of death upon the prisoner, he was so affect- 
 ed as to be scarcely audible, and the fatal words 
 were no sooner concluded than he burst into tears, 
 and sinking his head between his hands, continued 
 
 * Regem hominem esse, a quo impetres ubi jus, ubi injuria opus 
 sit — esse gratiae locum, esse beneficio, et irasci et ignoscere posse- 
 inter amicum atque inimicum discrimen nosse. Leges rem sur- 
 dam, inexorabilem esse, salubriorem melioremque inopi, quam po- 
 tent! — nihil laxamenti nee veniae habere, si modum excesseris. — 
 Tit. Liu. lib. 2. 
 
 Lord Yelverton v.-as considered as one of the most accomplished 
 classical scholars of his time. An unfinished translation of Livy 
 (his favourite historian) remains among his papers.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 311 
 
 for many minutes in that attitude of honourable 
 emotion. 
 
 The prisoner was recommended by the jury to 
 mercy, but, after receiving no less than three 
 respites, was finally executed. He died protest- 
 ing his innocence ; and though such a declaration 
 be very doubtful evidence of the fact, (for who, 
 about to suffer for a political crime, would not 
 prefer to be remembered as a martyr), still there 
 were, in the case of Orr, some corroborating cir- 
 cumstances, which render it a matter of surprise 
 and regret that they should have been disregard- 
 ed. His previous life and character had been 
 irreproachable. Subsequent to his trial, it ap- 
 peared that the informer, upon whose evidence he 
 had been convicted, had, according to his own 
 confession, perjured himself on a former occasion, 
 and had been in other particulars a person of 
 infamous conduct and reputation ; but above all, 
 the circumstances under which the verdict was 
 found against Orr, pointed him out, if not as an 
 object constitutionally entitled to mercy, at least as 
 one to whom it would have been an act of salu- 
 tary mildness to have extended it. The jury had 
 continued from seven o'clock in the evening till 
 six on the following morning considering their
 
 312 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 verdict ; in the interval, spirituous liquor had 
 been introduced into the jury room, and intimi- 
 dation used to such as hesitated to concur with 
 the majority. To these latter facts two of the 
 jury made a solemn affidavit in open court, before 
 the judge who tried the cause. 
 
 Upon these proceedings, a very severe letter of 
 remonstrance to the viceroy appeared in the Press 
 newspaper, of which Mr Finnerty was the pub- 
 lisher ; and the letter being deemed a libel, the 
 publisher was brought to immediate trial. 
 
 Mr Curran's address to the jury in this case 
 must be considered, if not the finest, at least the 
 most surprising specimen of his oratorical powers. 
 He had had no time for preparation ; it was not 
 till a few minutes before the cause commenced 
 that his brief was handed to him. During the. 
 progress of the trial he had occasion to speak at. 
 unusual length to questions of law that arose upon 
 the evidence; so that his speech to the jury could 
 necessarily be no other than a sudden, extempo- 
 raneous exertion : and it was, perhaps, a secret 
 and not unjustifiable feeling of pride at having so 
 acquitted himself upon such an emergency, that 
 inclined his own mind to prefer this to any of his 
 other efforts.
 
 LIFE OF CURIiAN. 313 
 
 The following is his description of the scenes 
 which attended and followed the trial of William 
 Orr. 
 
 " Let me beg of you for a moment to suppose 
 that any one of you had been the writer of this 
 strong and severe animadversion upon the lord- 
 lieutenant, and that you had been the witness of 
 that lamentable and never to be forgotten catas- 
 trophe ; let me suppose that you had known the 
 charge upon which Mr Orr was apprehended — 
 the charge of abjuring that bigotry which had 
 torn and disgraced his country, of pledging him- 
 self to restore the people to their place in the con- 
 stitution, and of binding himself never to be the 
 betrayer of his fellow-labourers in that enterprise ; 
 that you had seen him upon that charge torn from 
 bis industry and confined in a gaol ; that through 
 the slow and lingering progress of twelve tedious 
 months, you had seen him confined in a dungeon, 
 shut out from the common use of air and of liis 
 own limbs ; that day after day you had marked 
 the unhappy captive, cheered by no sound but the 
 cries of his family or the clanking of his chains ; 
 that you had seen him at last brought to his trial ; 
 that you had seen the vile and perjured informer 
 deposing against his life ; that you had seen the
 
 314< LIFE OF CURUAN. 
 
 drunken, and worn out, and terrified jury, give in 
 a verdict of death ; that you had seen the same 
 jury, when their returning sobriety had brought 
 back their reason, prostrate themselves before the 
 humanity of the bench, and pray that the mercy 
 of the crown might save their characters from the 
 reproach of an involuntary crime, their consciences 
 from the torture of eternal self-condemnation, and 
 their souls from the indelible stain of innocent 
 blood. Let me suppose that you had seen the 
 respite given, and the contrite and honest recom- 
 mendation transmitted to that seat where mercy 
 was presumed to dwell : that new and before un- 
 heard of crimes are discovered against the in- 
 former ; that the royal mercy seems to relent; 
 that a new respite is sent to the prisoner; that 
 time is taken to see ' whether mercy could be ex- 
 tended or not;' that after that period of lingering 
 deliberation had passed, a third respite is trans- 
 mitted ; that the unhappy captive himself feels the 
 cheering hope of being restored to a family that 
 he had adored, to a character that he had never 
 stained, and to a country that he had ever loved ; 
 that you had seen his wife and his children upon 
 their knees, giving those tears to gratitude which 
 their locked and frozen hearts had refused to
 
 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 315 
 
 anguish and despair, and imploring the blessings 
 of eternal Providence upon his head who had gra- 
 ciously spared the father, and restored him to his 
 children : — 
 
 ' Alas ! 
 Nor wife nor children more shall he behold, 
 Nor friends, nor sacred home !' 
 
 " Often did the weary dove return to the win- 
 dow of his little ark ; but the olive leaf was to him 
 no sign that the waters had subsided. No seraph 
 Mercy unbars his dungeon, and leads him forth 
 to light and life : but the minister of Death hur- 
 ries him to the scene of suffering and of shame ; 
 where, unmoved by the hostile array of artillery 
 and armed men collected together to secure, or 
 to insult, or to disturb him, he dies with a solemn 
 declaration of his innocence, and utters his last 
 breath in a prayer for the liberty of his country. 
 
 " Let me now ask you, if any of you had ad- 
 dressed the public ear upon so foul and monstrous 
 a subject, in what language would you have con- 
 veyed the feelings of horror and indignation? 
 Would you have stooped to the meanness of qua- 
 lified complaint ? Would you have checked your 
 feelings to search for courtly and gaudy language ?
 
 316 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 
 
 Would you have been mean enough — but I en- 
 treat your pardon ; I have already told you I do 
 not think meanly of you. Had I thought so 
 meanly-" of you, I could not suffer my mind to 
 commune with you as it has done : had I thought 
 you that base and servile instrument, attuned by 
 hope and fear into discord and falsehood, from 
 whose vulgar string no groan of suffering could 
 vibrate, no voice of integi-ity or honour could 
 speak, let me honestly tell you, I should have 
 scorned to fling my hand across it ; I should have 
 left it to a fitter minstrel : if I do not, therefore, 
 grossly err in my opinion of you, you could invent 
 no language upon such a subject as this, that must 
 not lag behind the rapidity of your feelings, and 
 that must not disgrace those feelings if it attempt- 
 ed to describe them." 
 
 The distracted condition of Ireland, at this un- 
 fortunate period, may be collected from the follow- 
 ing description. To the general reader of Mr 
 Curran's speeches, the frequent recurrence of so 
 painful a theme must diminish their attraction ; 
 but it was too intimately connected with his sub- 
 jects to be omitted ; and, as has been previously 
 remarked, the scenes which he daily witnessed 
 had so sensible an influence upon the style of his
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 31? 
 
 addresses to juries, that some advertence to them 
 here becomes indispensable. 
 
 " The learned counsel has asserted, that the 
 paper which he prosecutes is only part of a system 
 formed to misrepresent the state of Ireland and 
 the conduct of its government. Do you not there- 
 fore discover that his object is to procure a verdict 
 to sanction the pai'liaments of both countries in 
 refusing an inquiry into your grievances ? Let me 
 ask you then, are you prepared to say, upon your 
 oath, that those measures of coercion which are 
 daily practised, are absolutely necessary, and ought 
 to be continued ? It is not upon Finnerty you are 
 sitting in judgment; but you are sitting in judg- 
 ment upon the lives and liberties of the inhabitants 
 of more than half of Ireland. You are to say that 
 it is a foul proceeding to condemn the government 
 of Ireland ; that it is a foul act, founded in foul 
 motives, and originating in falsehood and sedi- 
 tion ; that it is an attack upon a government un* 
 der which the people are prosperous and happy ; 
 that justice is administered with mercy ; that the 
 statements made in Great Britain are false — are 
 the effusions of party or of discontent ; that all is 
 mildness and tranquillity ; that there are no burn- 
 ings — no transportations ; that you never travel
 
 318 LIFE OF CURKAN. 
 
 by the light of conflagrations ; that the gaols are 
 not crowded month after month, from which pri- 
 soners are taken out, not for trial, but for em- 
 barkation ! These are the questions upon which, 
 I say, you must virtually decide. It is in vain 
 that the counsel for the crown may tell you that 
 I am misrepresenting the case ; that I am endea- 
 vouring to raise false fears, and to take advantage 
 of your passions ; that the question is, whether 
 this paper be a libel or not, and that the circum- 
 stances of the country have nothing to do with it. 
 Such assertions must be vain : the statement of 
 the counsel for the crown has forced the introduc- 
 tion of those important topics ; and I appeal to 
 your own hearts whether the country is misre- 
 presented, and whether the government is mis- 
 represented. I tell you therefore, gentlemen of 
 the jury, it is not with respect to Mr Orr or 
 Mr Finnerty that your verdict is now sought; 
 you are called upon, on your oaths, to say that 
 the government is wise and merciful ; the people 
 prosperous and happy ; that military law ought to 
 be continued ; that the constitution could not with 
 safety be restored to Ireland ; and that the state- 
 ments of a contrary import by your advocates in 
 either country are libellous and false. I tell you,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 319 
 
 these are the questions ; and I ask you, if you can 
 have the front to give the expected answer in the 
 face of a community who know the country as 
 well as you do. Let me ask you how you could 
 reconcile with such a verdict, the gaols, the ten- 
 ders, the gibbets, the conflagrations, the murders, 
 the proclamations, that we hear of every day in 
 the streets, and see every day in the country ? 
 What are the processions of the learned counsel 
 himself, circuit after circuit? Merciful God I 
 what is the state of Ireland, and where shall you 
 find the wretched inhabitant of this land ? You 
 may find him perhaps in a gaol, the only place of 
 security, 1 had almost said of ordinary habitation 1 
 If you do not find him there, you may see him 
 flying with his family from the flames of his own 
 dwelling — lighted to his dungeon by the confla- 
 gration of his hovel ; or you may find his bones 
 bleaching on the green fields of his country ; or 
 you may find him tossing on the surface of the 
 ocean, and mingling his groans with those tem- 
 pests, less savage than his prosecutors, that drift 
 him to a returnlcss distance from his family and 
 his home, without charge, or trial, or sentence. 
 Is this a foul misrepresentation ? Or can you, with 
 these facts ringing in your cars, and staring in
 
 320 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 your face, say upon your oaths, they do not exist? 
 You are called upon, in defiance of shame, of 
 truth, of honour, to deny the sufferings under 
 which you groan, and to flatter the persecution 
 that tramples you under foot. Gentlemen, I am 
 not accustomed to speak of circumstances of this 
 kind, and though familiarized as I have been to 
 them, when I come to speak of them, my power 
 fails me, my voice dies within me ; I am not able to 
 call upon you : it is now I ought to have strength; 
 it is now I ought to have energy and voice, — but 
 I have none ; 1 am like the unfortunate state of 
 the country, perhaps like you. This is the time 
 in which I ought to speak, if I can, or be dumb 
 for ever ; in which, if you do not speak as you 
 ought — you ought to be dumb for ever.'* 
 
 "When he came to comment upon that part of 
 the publication under trial, which stated that in- 
 formers were brought forward by the hopes of 
 remuneration — " Is that (said he) a foul asser- 
 tion ? or will you, upon your oaths, say to the 
 sister country, that there are no such abominable 
 instruments of destruction as informers used in the 
 state prosecutions in Ireland ? Let me honestly 
 ask you, what do you feel when in my hearing — 
 when, in the face of this audience, you are called
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 321 
 
 upon to give a verdict that every man of us, and 
 every man of you, know, by the testimony of 
 your own eyes, to be utterly and absolutely false ? 
 I speak not now of the public proclamations for 
 informers with a promise of secrecy and extrava- 
 gant reward. — I speak not of those unfortunate 
 wretches, who have been so often transferred from 
 the table to the dock, and from the dock to the 
 pillory — 1 speak of what your own eyes have 
 seen, day after day, during the course of this 
 commission, while you attended this court — the 
 number of horrid miscreants who acknowledged, 
 upon their oaths, that they had come from the 
 seat of government — from the very chambers of 
 the Castle (where they had been worked upon, 
 by the fear of death and the hopes of compensa- 
 tion, to give evidence against their fellows) — that 
 the mild, the wholesome, and merciful councils of 
 this government are holden over those catacombs 
 of living death, where the wretch, that is buried 
 a man^ lies till his heart has time to fester and 
 dissolve, and is then dug up a wiiness. Is this a 
 picture created by an hag-ridden fancy, or is it 
 feet? Have you not seen him, after his resur- 
 rection from that tomb, make his appearance upon 
 your table, the living image of life and death, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 and the supreme arbiter of both ? Have you not 
 marked, when he entered, how the stormy wave 
 of the multitude retired at his approach ? Have 
 you not seen how the human heart bowed to the 
 awful supremacy of his povver, in the undissembled 
 homage of deferential horror? How his glance, 
 hke the lightning of heaven, seemed to rive the 
 body of the accused, and mark it for the grave, 
 %vhile his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe 
 and death — a death which no innocence can escape, 
 no art elude, no force resist, no antidote prevent ? 
 There was an antidote — a juror's oath ! But even 
 that adamantine chain, which bound the integrity 
 of man to the throne of eternal justice, is solved 
 and molten in the breath which issues from the 
 mouth of the informer. Conscience swings from 
 her moorings; the appalled and affrighted juror 
 speaks what his soul abhors, and consults his own 
 safety in the surrender of the victim — 
 
 et quae sibi quisque timebat 
 
 Unius in miseri exitium conversa tulere. 
 
 Informers are worshipped in the temple of justice, 
 even as the devil has been worshipped by Pagans 
 and savages — even so, in this wicked country, is 
 the informer an object of judicial idolatry — even
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 323 
 
 SO is he soothed by the music of human groans — 
 even so is he placated and incensed by the fumes 
 and by the blood of human sacrifices." 
 
 It is some relief to turn from these descriptions, 
 (the truth of which any, who may doubt it, will 
 find authenticated by the historian), to the attesta- 
 tion which the advocate bore (and which he was 
 always ready to bear) to the honourable and 
 dignified demeanour of the presiding Judge.* 
 " You are upon a great forward ground, with 
 the people at your back, and the government in 
 your front. You have neither the disadvantages 
 nor the excuses of juries a century ago. No, 
 thank God ! never was there a stronger charac- 
 teristic distinction between those times, upon which 
 no man can reflect without horror, and the present. 
 You have seen this trial conducted with mild- 
 ness and patience by the court. We have now 
 no JefFeries, with scurvy and vulgar conceits, to 
 browbeat the prisoner, and perplex his counsel. 
 Such has been the improvement of manners, and 
 so calm the confidence of integrity, that during 
 the defence of accused persons, the Judges sit 
 quietly, and shew themselves worthy of tlieiv 
 
 • The Hon, William Downes.
 
 324- LIFE OF CURnASr. 
 
 situation, by bearing, with a mild and mercifcil 
 patience, the httle extravagancies of the bar, as 
 you should bear with the little extravagancies of 
 the press. Let me then turn your eyes to that 
 pattern of mildness in the bench. The press is 
 your advocate ; bear with its excess, bear with 
 every thing but its bad intention. If it comes as 
 a villanous slanderer, treat it as such ; but if it 
 endeavour to raise the honour and glory of your 
 country, remember that you reduce its power to a 
 nonentity, if you stop its animadversions upon 
 public measures. You should not check the ef- 
 forts of genius, nor damp the ardour of patriotism. 
 In vain will you desire the bird to soar, if you 
 meanly or madly steal from it its plumage. Be- 
 ware lest, under the pretence of bearing down tlie 
 licentiousness of the press, you extinguish it alto- 
 gether. Beware how you rival the venal ferocity 
 of those miscreants, who rob a printer of the 
 means of bread, and claim from deluded royalty 
 the reward of integrity and allegiance."* 
 
 * The jury found a verdict against the traverser. The above 
 extracts are taken from a fuller report of Mr Curran's speech upon 
 this occasion, than that which is to be found in the published col- 
 lection.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 325 
 
 TRIAL OF PATRICK FINNEY. 
 
 Mr Curran's defence of Patrick Finney (who 
 vras brought to trial in January 1 798, on a charge 
 of high treason), if not the most eloquent, was at 
 least the most successful of his efforts at the bar. 
 This may be also considered as the most important 
 cause that he ever conducted, as far as the number 
 of his clients could render it so ; for, in addition to 
 the prisoner at the bar, he was virtually defending 
 fifteen others, against whom there existed the same 
 charge, and the same proof, and whose fates would 
 have immediately followed had the evidence against 
 Finney prevailed. The principal witness for the 
 crown in this case was an informer, named James 
 O'Brien, a person whom his testimony upon this 
 trial, and his subsequent crimes, have rendered 
 notorious in Ireland. The infamy of this man's 
 previous life and morals, and the improbability 
 and inconsistencies of his story, were so satisfac- 
 torily proved to the jury, that, making an effort 
 of firmness and humanity very unusual in those 
 days, they acquitted Finney ; and, at the next 
 sitting of the court, the fifteen other prisoners 
 were in consequence discharged from their indict- 
 ments.
 
 326 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 In speaking of Finney's acquittal, it would be 
 an act of injustice to attribute it to the ability of 
 Mr Curran alone. He was assisted, as he was 
 upon so many other occasions of emergency, by 
 Mr M'Nally,* a gentleman in whom the client 
 has always found a zealous intrepid advocate, and 
 
 * Leonard M'Nally, Esq. for many years an eminent Irish bar- 
 rister, and long since known to the English public as the author of 
 Robin Hood, and other successful dramatic pieces, the productions 
 of his earlier days. Among many endearing traits in this gentle- 
 man's private character, his devoted attachment to Mr Curran's 
 person and fame, and, since his death, to the interests of his memory, 
 has been conspicuous. The writer of this cannot advert to the 
 ardour and tenderness with which he cherishes the latter, without 
 emotions of the most lively and respectful gratitude. To Mr 
 M'Nally he has to express many obligations for the zeal with which 
 he has assisted in procuring and supplying materials for the present 
 work. The introduction of these private feelings is not entirely 
 out of place — it can never be out of place to record au example of 
 stedfastness in friendship. For three and forty years Mr M'Nally 
 was the friend of the subject of these pages ; and during that long 
 period, uninfluenced by any obligation, more than once, at his own 
 personal risk in repelling the public calumnies which Mr Curran's 
 political conduct had provoked, he performed the duties of the re- 
 lation with the most uncompromising and romantic fidelity. To 
 state this, is a debt of justice to the dead ; the survivor has an ampler 
 reward than any passing tribute of this sort can confer, in the re- 
 collection, that during their long intercourse not even an unkind 
 look ever passed between them.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 327 
 
 in whom Mr Curran, from his j'outh to his latest 
 hour, possessed a most affectionate, unshaken, and 
 disinterested friend. An instance of Mr Curran's 
 confidence in the talents of his colleague occurred 
 upon this trial : the circumstance too may not be 
 without interest, as an example of the accidents 
 which influence the most important questions. 
 
 The only mode of saving their client was by im- 
 peaching the credit of O'Brien. It appeared in 
 their instructions that they had some, though not 
 unexceptionable evidence of his having extorted 
 money, by assuming the character of a revenue 
 officer. While Mr Curran was cross-examining 
 him upon this point, the prisoner's agent acciden- 
 tally heard, from some of the by-standers, that 
 there was a man residing at the distance of a few 
 miles from Dublin, whose testimony would place 
 beyond a doubt that O'Brien was perjuring him- 
 self in the answers that he returned.* A chaise 
 
 * Some extracts from the cross-examination of this witness shall 
 be inserted as too singular, on many accounts, to be omitted. It 
 should be observed that Mr Curran, upon this occasion, departed 
 in some measure from his ordinary method of confounding the per- 
 jurer. Instead of resorting to menace or ridicule, he began by 
 affecting a tone of respect, and even submission ; and by thus en- 
 couraging O'Brien's insolence, threw him off his guard, and led
 
 328 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 was immediately dispatched to bring up thiiS per- 
 son ; and, in the interval, it was proposed by Mr 
 
 him on more completely to develope his own character to the 
 jury: — 
 
 James O'Brien cross-examined by Mr Curran. 
 
 Q. Pray, Mr O'Brien, whence came you?— A. Speak in a way 
 I will understand you. 
 
 Q,. Do you not understand me? — A. Whence? I am here. 
 Do you mean the place I came from ? 
 
 Q. By your oath, do you not understand it ? — A. I partly cen- 
 sure it now. 
 
 Q,. Now that you partly censure the question, answer it. Where 
 did you come from ? — A. From the Castle. 
 
 Q. Do you live there? — A. I do while I am there. 
 
 Q. You are welcome, sir, to practise your wit upon me. Where 
 did you live before you came to Dublin? — A. In the Queen's 
 . county. 
 
 Q,. What way of life were you engaged in before you came to 
 Dublin? — A. I had a farm of land which my father left me ; and 
 I set it, and afterwards sold it, and came to Dublin to follow busi- 
 ness I learned before my father's death. I served four years to 
 Mr Latouche of Marley. 
 
 Q. To what business? — A. A gardener. 
 
 Q. Were you an excise officer?— A. No. 
 
 Q. Nor ever acted as one? — A. I don't doubt but I may have 
 gone of messages for one. 
 
 Q. Who was that ? — A. A man of the name of Fitzpatrick. 
 
 Q. He is an excise officer?— A. So I understand.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 329 
 
 Curran, that he, who, as senior, was to have com- 
 menced the prisoner's defence, should reserve him- 
 
 Q. What messages did you go for him ?— A. For money when 
 he was lying on a sick bed. 
 
 Q. To whom ? — A. To several of the people in his walk, 
 
 Q,. But you never pretended to be an officer yourself? — A. As 
 I have been walking with him, and had clean clothes on me, he 
 might have said to the persons he met, that I was an excise officer. 
 
 Q,. But did you never pretend to be an officer? — A. I never 
 did pretend to be an officer. 
 
 Q,. Did you ever pass yourself for a revenue officer? — A. I an- 
 swered that before. 
 
 Q. I do not want to give you any unnecessary trouble, sir ; 
 treat me with the same respect I shall treat you. I ask you again, 
 did you ever pass yourself for a revenue officer? — A. Never, bar- 
 ring when I was in drink, and the like. 
 
 Q. Then, when you have been drunk, you have passed for a 
 revenue officer? — A. I do not know what I have done when I was 
 drunk. 
 
 Q. Did you at any time, drunk or sober, pass yourself as a re- 
 venue officer? — A. Never, when sober. 
 
 Q. Did you, drunk or sober? — A. I cannot say what I did 
 when I was drunk. 
 
 Q. Can you form a belief — I ask you upon your oath — you arc 
 upon a solemn occasion — Did you pass yourself for a revenue offi- 
 cer? — A. I cannot say what happened to me when I was drunk. 
 
 Q. What ! do you say you might have done it when you were 
 drunk?— A. I cannot recollect what passed in my drink. 
 
 Q.. Are you in the habit of being drunk ? — A. Not now ; but 
 some time back I was.
 
 330 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 self for the speech to evidence, and that his col- 
 league should state the case, and continue sneaking 
 
 JiiQ. Very fond of drink? — A. Very fond of drink. 
 
 Q. Do you remember to whom you passed yourself for a reve- 
 nue officer? — A. I do not. 
 
 Q. Do you know the man who keeps the Red Cow, of the 
 name of Cavanagh ? — A. Where does he live ? 
 
 Q. Do you not know yourself ?■— A. There is one Red Cow 
 above the Fox and Geese. 
 
 Q,. Did you ever pass yourself as a revenue officer there?— 
 A. I never was there but with Fitzpatrick ; and one day there had 
 been a scuffle, and he abused Fitzpatrick and threatened him : I 
 drank some whisky there, and paid for it, and went to Fitzpatrick 
 and told him, and I summoned Cavanagh. 
 
 Q. For selling spirits without license ?— A. T did, and compro- 
 mised the business. 
 
 Q,. By taking money and not prosecuting him?— A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Did you put money into your own pocket by that?— A. I 
 did. 
 
 Q. But you swear you never passed yourself for a revenue offi- 
 cer ? — A. Barring when I was drunk. 
 
 Q,. Were you drunk when you summoned Cavanagh ? — A. No. 
 
 Q. When you did not prosecute him ? — A. No. 
 
 Q. When you put his money into your pocket ? — A. No. 
 
 Q,. Do you know a man of the name of Patrick Lamb? — A. I 
 do not; but if you brighten my memory, I may recollect. 
 
 Q. Did you ever tell any man you were a supernumerary, and 
 that your walk was Rathfarnham and Taliaght? — A. I never did, 
 except when I was drunk j but I never did any thing but what was 
 honest when I was sober.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 331 
 
 as long as he coiddjiyid a syllable to say^ so as to 
 rn\e time to the chaise to return before the trial 
 
 o 
 
 Q. Do you believe you did say it?— A. I do not know what 
 I might have said when I was drunk. You know when a man is 
 walking with an exciseman, he gets a glass at every house. 
 
 Mr Curran. — I know no such thing, never having walked with 
 an exciseman. 
 
 Witness. — Then you may know it. 
 
 Q. Do you know any man passing by the name, or called Pa- 
 trick Lamb? — A. Not that I recollect, upon my word. 
 
 Q. Upon your oath? — A. I do not recollect: I mean to tell 
 every thing against myself as against any other. 
 
 Q. Do you know a person of tlie name of Margaret Moore ?— 
 A. Where does she live ? Is she married ? 
 
 Q. She lives near Stradbally. Do you know her? — A. I know 
 her well — I thought it might be another. I was courting a woman 
 of that name before my marriage. 
 
 Q.. Did you come to Dublin before her or after?— A. I was ia 
 Dublin before I knew her. 
 
 Q. Did you get a decree against her?— A. I did get a summons 
 for money she owed me. 
 
 Q. Were you taken to the Court of Conscience by her? — 
 A. No. (Contradicted by the evidence on the defence). 
 
 Q. When you met Hyland, were you an United Irishman ? — 
 A. Always united to every honest man. 
 I Q. Were you an United Irishman ? — A. Never sworn. 
 
 Q. Were you in any manner an United Irishman before tliat 
 day ?— A. Never sworn in before that day.
 
 332 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 should be over. The latter, in whose character 
 there was as little of mental as of personal timidi- 
 
 Q. Were you in any manner? — A. Don't I tell you that I was 
 united to every honest man ? 
 
 Q. Do you believe you are answering my question? — A. I do. 
 
 Q,. Were you ever in any society of United Irishmen before 
 that day ?^A. I do not at all know but I may, but without my 
 knowledge : they might be in the next box to me, or in the end of 
 the seat with me, and I not know them. 
 
 Q. Were you ever in a society of United Irishmen but that 
 day ? — A. I was since. 
 
 Q. Were you ever of their meetings, or did you know any 
 thing of their business before that day ? — A. No ; but I have 
 heard of defender's business. 
 "^ Q. Were you of their society? — A. No; but when they came 
 to my father's house, I went to Admiral Cosby's and kept guard 
 there, and threatened to shoot any of them that would come : one 
 Connelly told me I was to be murdered for this expression. 
 
 Q. Hyland made signs to you in the street? — A. He did. 
 
 Q,. Did you answer them ? — A. No. 
 
 Q,. Why did you not? — A. Because I did not know how. 
 
 Q. Then is your evidence this, that you went into the house in 
 order to save your life ? — A. I was told that I might lose my life 
 before I went half a street if I did not. 
 
 Q. Then it was from the fear of being murdered before you 
 should go half a street, that you went in to be an United Irish- 
 man ? — A. You have often heard of men being murdered in tlie 
 business. 
 
 Q. Do you believe that ? — A. I do: it is common through the 
 country ; I have read the proclamations upon it, and you may have 
 done so too.
 
 LIFE OP CURRAN. 333 
 
 ty, accepted the proposal without hesitation, and 
 for once belying the maxim, that " brevity is the 
 
 Q. How soon, after you were sworn, did you see the magis- 
 trate? — A. I was sworn upon the 25th, and upon the 28th I was 
 brought to Lord Portaxlington, and in the interval of the two days, 
 Ilyland was with me and dined with me. 
 
 Q. Why did you not go the next day? — A. Because I did not 
 get clear of them, and they might murder me. 
 
 Q. AVhere did you sleep the first night after? — A. At my own 
 place — I was very full — very drunk. 
 
 Q. Did either of them sleep there ? — A. No. 
 
 Q. ^Miore did you live? — A. In Keven-street, among some 
 friends good to the same cause. 
 
 Q. Where did you see Hyland the next day? — A. He came to 
 me next morning before I was out of bed, and stayed all day and 
 dined ; we drank full in the evening. 
 
 Q,. What became of you the next day ? — A. Hyland came early 
 again, and staid all day. I was after getting two guineas from my 
 brother. I was determined to see it out, to know their conspiracies 
 after I was sworn. 
 
 Q,. Then you meant to give evidence? — A. I never went to a 
 meeting that I did not give an account of it. 
 
 Q,. Do you know Charles Clarke of Blue Bell? — A. 1 have 
 heard of such a man. 
 
 Q. You do not know him ? — A. I do : I do not mean to tell a 
 lie. 
 
 Q. You did not know him at first? — A. There are many men 
 of the name of Clarke; I did not know but it might be some 
 other. It did not immediately come into my memory.
 
 334; LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 soul of wit," produced an oration so skilfully volu- 
 minous, that, by the time it was concluded, which 
 
 Q. You thought it might be some other Clarke? — A. There 
 is a Clarke came in to me yesterday. 
 
 Q.. Did you ever get money from Clarke, of Blue Bell, as an 
 excise officer? — A. I got 5s. 5d. from him not to tell Fitzpatrick : 
 he did not know me, and I bought spirits there; and seeing me 
 walk with an exciseman, he was afraid I would tell of him, and he 
 gave me Ss. Sd. 
 
 Q. And you put it into your pocket? — A. To be sure. 
 
 Q. Did you pass yourself as a revenue officer upon him ? — 
 A. No. 
 
 Q. You swear that? — A. I do. 
 
 Q. You know a man of the name of Edward Purcell? — A. 
 That is the man that led me into every thing. He has figured 
 among the United Irishmen. He got about L.40 of their money 
 and went off. He has been wrote to several times. 
 
 Q. How came you to know him ? — A. Through the friendship 
 of Fitzpatrick. He had Fitzpatrick's wife, as a body might say, 
 having another man's wife. 
 
 Q,. He made you acquainted ?^ A. I saw him there, and Fitz- 
 patrick well contented. 
 
 Q.. Did you ever give him a recipe ? — A. I did. 
 
 Q. Was it for money ? — A. No. 
 
 Q. What was it? — A. It was partly an order, where Hyland, 
 lie, and I, hoped to be together. It was a pass-word I gave him 
 to go to Hyland to buy light gold that I knew was going to the 
 country.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 335 
 
 was not until his physical strength was utterly 
 exhausted, the evening was so far advanced, that 
 
 Q. Did you ever give him any other recipe? — A. I do not 
 know but I might ; we had many dealings. 
 
 Q. Had you many dealings in recipes?— A. In recipes. 
 
 Q,. I mean recipes to do a thing ; as, to make a pudding, &c. 
 Did you give him recipes of that nature? — A. I do not know but 
 I might give him recipes to do a great number of things. 
 
 Q. To do a great number of things? WTiat are they ? — A. Tell 
 me the smallest hint, and I will tell the truth. 
 
 Q. Upon that engagement I will tell you. Did you ever give 
 him a recipe to turn silver into gold, or copper into silver? — 
 A. Yes;- for turning copper into silver. 
 
 Q. You have kept your word ?^A. I said I would tell every 
 thing against myself. 
 
 Q. Do you consider that against yourself ?— A. I tell you the 
 truth : I gave him a recipe for making copper money like silver 
 money. 
 
 Q. What did you give it him for ? Did he make use of it? Was 
 it to protect his copper from being changed that you did it ? — A. He 
 was very officious to make things in a light easy way, without much 
 trouble, to make his bread light : but I did it more in fun than 
 profit. 
 
 Q. You did not care how much coin he made by it ? — A. I did 
 not care how much coin he made by it: he might put it upon the 
 market -cross. 
 
 Q. Do you say you do not care how many copper shillings he 
 made? — A. I did not care whether he made use of it or not. 
 
 Q. Upon your solemn oath, you say that you did not care how 
 many base shillings he made in consequence of the recipe you gave 
 
 8
 
 336 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the Court readily consented to a temporary ad- 
 journment, for the purpose of refreshment ; and 
 
 him ? — A. I did not care how many he told of it, or what he did 
 with it, 
 
 Q.. Had you never seen it tried ? — A. No, I never saw the re- 
 cipe I gave bim tried ; but I saw others tried. 
 
 Q. For making copper look like silver? — A. To be sure. 
 
 Q. Do you recollect whether you gave him half-a-crown, upon 
 which that recipe was tried ? — A. I hever saw it tried : but I gave 
 Lim a bad half-crown. I did not give it him in payment : I did 
 it more to humbug him than any thing else. 
 
 Q. Do you know Mr Roberts? — A. What Mr Roberts ? 
 
 Q. Mr Arthur Roberts of Stradbally ? — A. I do. 
 
 Q. Did you ever talk to any person about his giving a character 
 of you ? — A. He could not give a bad character of me. 
 
 Q. Did you ever tell any person about his giving you a charac- 
 ter? — A. I say now, in the hearing of the court and the jury, that 
 I heard of his being summoned against me ; and, unless he would 
 forswear himself, he could not give me a bad character. 
 
 Q,. Did you ever say you would do any thing against him ? 
 — A. I said I would settle him; but do you know how? There 
 was a matter about an auction that I would tell of him. 
 
 Q. Had you a weapon in your hand at the time? — A. I be- 
 lieve I had a sword. 
 
 Q. And a pistol? — A. Yes. 
 
 Q. And you had them in your hand at the time you made the 
 declaration ? — A. I knew he was a government man ; and I would 
 not do any thing to him in the way of assassination.
 
 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 33T 
 
 before it resumed its sitting, the material witness 
 for the prisoner had arrived. 
 
 For this important service rendered to their 
 cause, Mr Curran, in his address to the jury, paid 
 his colleague a tribute, to which, as a man and 
 an advocate, he was so well entitled. When, in 
 the commencement of his speech, he alluded to 
 the statement of his friend, and expressed " his 
 reluctance to repeat any part of it, for fear of 
 weakening it," he turned round to him, threw his 
 arm affectionately over his shoulder, and, with 
 that pathetic fervour of accent so peculiarly his 
 own, addressed him thus : " My old and excellent 
 friend, I have long known and respected the ho- 
 nesty of your heart, but never, until this occasion, 
 was I acquainted with the extent of your abilities. 
 I am not in the habit of paying compliments 
 where they are undeserved." Tears fell from Mr 
 Curran as he hung over his friend, and pronounc- 
 ed these few and simple words ; and, however un- 
 imposing they may appear in the repetition, it 
 certainly was not the part of his defence of Finney 
 that touched the jury the least. 
 
 His speech in this case (particularly in the im- 
 perfect report of it that has appeared) does not 
 contain many passages calculated to delight in the 
 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 closet. It is chiefly occupied in developing the 
 atrocities of the detestable O'Brien ; and this ob- 
 ject he accomplished with signal success. That 
 wretch, who had, in the early part of the trial, 
 comported himself with so much triumphant in- 
 solence, was for a moment appalled by Mr Cur- 
 ran's description of his villanies, and by the in- 
 dignant fury of his glances. He was observed 
 palpably shrinking before the latter, and taking 
 shelter in the crowd which thronged the court. 
 The advocate did not fail to "take advantage of 
 such a circumstance. " What was the evidence 
 of the innocent, unlettered, poor farmer Cava- 
 nagh ; pursuing the even tenor of his way in the 
 paths of honest industry, he is in the act of fulfill- 
 ing the decree of his Maker — he is earning his 
 bread by the sweat of his brow, when this villain, 
 less pure than the arch-fiend who brought this 
 sentence of laborious action on mankind, enters 
 the habitation of peace and honest industry; and, 
 not content with dipping his tongue in perjury, 
 robs the poor man of two guineas. Where is 
 O'Brien now? — Do you wonder that he is afraid 
 of my eye ? — that he has buried himself in the 
 crowd ? — that he crept under the shade of the 
 multitude when this witness would have disen-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 339 
 
 tangled his evidence? Do you not feel that he 
 was appalled with horror, by that more piercing 
 and penetrating eye, that looks upon him, and 
 upon me, and upon us all ? At this moment even 
 the bold and daring villany of O'Brien stood 
 abashed ; he saw the eye of Heaven in that of an 
 innocent and injured man ; perhaps the feeling 
 was consummated by a glance from the dock — 
 his heart bore testimony to his guilt, and he fled 
 for the same. Do you know him, gentlemen 
 of the jury? — Are you acquainted with James 
 O'Brien ? If you are, let him come forward 
 from that crowd where he has hid himself, and 
 claim you by a look." 
 
 The religious character of Mr Curran's ad- 
 dresses to juries, during these convulsed times, has 
 been already adverted to ; of this the conclusion 
 of his defence of Finney affords a striking ex- 
 ample : — 
 
 " This is the great experiment of the informers 
 of Ireland, to ascertain how far they can carry on 
 a traffic in human blood. This cannibal informer, 
 this demon, O'Brien, greedy after human goi-e, 
 has fifteen other victims in reserve, if from your 
 verdict he receives the unhappy man at the bar — 
 fifteen more of your fellow-citiisens are now in
 
 340 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 gaol, depending on the fate of the unfortunate 
 prisoner, and on the same blasted and perjured 
 evidence of O'Brien. Be you then their saviours ; 
 let your verdict snatch them from his ravening 
 maw, and interpose between yourselves and end- 
 less remorse. The character of the prisoner has 
 been given. Am I not warranted in saying, that 
 I am now defending an innocent fellow-subject on 
 the grounds of eternal justice and immutable law ? 
 and on that eternal law I do call upon you to ac- 
 quit my client. I call upon you for your justice ! 
 Great is the reward, and sweet the recollection in 
 the hour of tnal, and in the day of dissolution, 
 "when the casualties of life are pressing close upon 
 the heart, or when in the agonies of death you 
 look back to the justifiable and honourable trans- 
 actions of your life. At the awful foot of eternal 
 justice, I do therefore invite you to acquit my 
 client ; and may God of his infinite mercy grant 
 you a more lasting reward than that perishable 
 crown we read of, which the ancients placed on 
 the brow of him who saved in battle the life of a 
 fellow-citizen ! In the name of public justice I do 
 implore you to interpose between the perjurer and 
 his intended victim ; and if ever you are assailed 
 by the hand of the informer, mr.y you find an all-
 
 LIFE OF C'JRRAN^. 341 
 
 powerful refuge in the example which, as jurors, 
 you shall set this day to those that might be call- 
 ed to pass upon your lives, that of repelling, at 
 the human tribunal, the intended effects of hire- 
 ling perjury and premeditated murder. And if 
 it should be the fate of any of you to count the 
 tedious moments of captivity, in sorrow and in 
 pain, pining in the damps and gloom of a dun- 
 geon, while the wicked one is going about at 
 large seeking whom he may devour, recollect that 
 there is another more awful tribunal than any 
 upon earth, which we must all approach, and 
 before which the best of us will have occasion to 
 look back to what little good we may have done 
 on this side the grave. In that awful trial — oh ! 
 may your verdict this day assure your hopes, and 
 give you strength and consolation, in the pi'esence 
 of an adjudging God. Earnestly do I pray, that 
 the author of eternal justice may record the inno- 
 cent deed you shall have done, and give to you 
 the full benefit of your claims to an eternal re- 
 ward, a requital in mercy upon your souls." 
 
 The fate of O'Brien is almost a necessary sequel 
 to the trial of Finney. Mr Curran, whom long 
 observation in the exercise of his profession had 
 familiarized to every gradation of atrocity, de-
 
 342 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 clared at the time, that, much as he had seen of 
 crime, he had never met with such intense, unmi- 
 tigated villany, as the conduct and countenance 
 of this ruffian manifested ; and he did not hesitate 
 to predict, that some act of guilt would shorten 
 his career. Two years after, O'Brien was tried 
 for murder,* and, by a kind of retributive justice, 
 the two counsel who had rescued Finney were 
 appointed to conduct the prosecution, f He was 
 
 • An assemblage of persons of the lower orders having taken 
 place in the suburbs of Dublin, for the purpose of recreation, the 
 officers of the police, accompanied by O'Brien, proceeded to dis- 
 "perse them. The multitude fled, and in the pursuit one of them 
 (an aged man named Hoey) was murdered by O'Brien. 
 
 f Mr Curran's speech in O'Brien's case is not distinguished by 
 much eloquence ; but it possesses one quality infinitely more ho- 
 nourable to him than any display of talent could have been. It is 
 full of moderation, resembling as much the charge of a judge as 
 the statement of a prosecutor, and contains no vindictive allusion 
 to the previous crimes of the prisoner. This the following extract 
 will shew : — 
 
 " The present trial is considered abroad as of some expectation. 
 I am very well aware that when a judicial inquiry becomes the to- 
 pic of public and general conversation, every conversation is in it- 
 self a little trial of the fact. The voice of public fame, the falsest 
 witness that ever was sworn or unsworn, is always ready to bear 
 testimony to the prejudice of an individual. The mind becomes 
 heated, and it can scarcely be expected, even in a jury-box, to find
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 31-3 
 
 convicted and executed. The populace of most 
 countries are too disposed to regard the death of 
 
 it cool, and reflecting, and uninterested. There are two tribunals 
 to which every man must be amenable; the one a municipal tribu- 
 nal, the other the great, and general, and despotic tribunal of pub- 
 lic reputation. If the jury have any reason to suppose that any 
 man who comes before them has been already tried by public fame, 
 and condemned, I beg to remind them of the solemn duty that jus- 
 tice imposes on them ; to turn their eyes away from the recollec- 
 tion that any sentence of that sort of condemnation has been pro- 
 nounced by the voice of public reputation ; and if they think that 
 his character has sunk under such a sentence, I remind the jury, 
 that the infamy of such a condemnation is enough without their 
 taking it into their consideration. It is the duty of the jury to 
 leave the decrees of that court to be executed by its own authority, 
 for they have no right to pass sentence of condemnation upon any 
 man because that ill-judging court may have passed sentence on 
 his character. They ought to recollect, that the evidence given be- 
 fore that court was unsworn, and therefore they are bound to con- 
 sider the evidence before them naked and simple, as if they had 
 never heard the name of the man they are to try, and the sentence 
 of condemnaUon that public fame had pronounced upon his cha- 
 racter. There is but one point of view in which public character 
 ought to be taken— that is, where there is doubt. In such d 
 case general good character ought to have great weight, and go to- 
 wards-the acquittal of the accused ; but should it so happen that 
 general bad character should be thrown into the scale, it ought not 
 to have one-twentieth part the weight that good character sliould 
 have.
 
 34:4) LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 the greatest criminals with sympathy and regret ; 
 but so predominant were the feelings of terror and 
 detestation which O'Brien's character had excited, 
 that his execution was accompanied by shouts of 
 the most unusual and horrid exultation. 
 
 Before dismissing the subject of this wretched 
 man, one observation should be made, of which 
 the omission might seem to imply a reproach 
 upon the conduct of the prosecutors in Finney's 
 case. It may occur, that the information of such 
 a person should not have gained a moment's at- 
 tention, still less have endangered the lives of so 
 many subjects. It is, therefore, only just to add, 
 that the real character of O'Brien was unknown 
 to the officers of the crown, until it became deve- 
 loped in the progress of the trial. The attorney- 
 general, who conducted that prosecution, was the 
 late Lord Kilwarden, a man the most reverse of 
 sanguinary, and who, in those violent times, was 
 
 " The jury, I am satisfied, will deliberately and cautiously weigh 
 the evidence to be produced ; they must be peifectly satisfied in 
 their minds of the guilt of the prisoner. They must feel an irre- 
 sistible and coercive force acting on them, from the weight of the 
 evidence, before, by their verdict, they pronounce that melancholy 
 sentence, whic{i would remove a murderer from the face of the 
 earth."
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 345 
 
 conspicuous for correcting the sternness of his of- 
 ficial duties by the tenderness of his own amiable 
 nature. His expiring sentiment had been the 
 maxim of his life — " Let no man perish but by 
 the just sentence of the law."
 
 346 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Rebellion of 1798 — Its causes — Unpopular system of government 
 — Influence of the French Revolution — Increased intelligence 
 in Ireland — Reform societies — United Irishmen — Tlieir views 
 and proceedings — Apply for aid to France— Anecdote of Theo- 
 bald Wolfe Tone — Numbers of the United Irishmen^ Condi- 
 tion of the peasantry and conduct of the aristocracy — Measures 
 of the government— Public alarm— General insurrection. 
 
 The order of this work has now brought it to the 
 year 1798, — the year 98 ! — a sound that is still so 
 terrible to every Irishman's imagination. During 
 the agitated period which followed the transac- 
 tions of 1782, Ireland had seen the newly-acquired 
 spirit of her people, inflamed by disappointment, 
 by suffering, and by ignorance, discharging itself 
 in bursts of individual or local turbulence, which 
 were not much felt beyond the particular persons, 
 or the immediate spot; but the hour, of which 
 these were the prophetic signs, and of which so 
 many warning and unheeded voices foretold the 
 approach, at length arrived, bringing scenes of 
 civil strife that struck dismay into every fibre of 
 the community— sending thousands to the grave,
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 347 
 
 thousands into exile, and involving many a vir- 
 tuous and respected family in calamity and shame. 
 In adverting to the events of this disastrous era, 
 it Avould be an easy task to recapitulate its horrors, 
 or, according to the once popular method, to rail 
 at the memories of its victims : but it is time for 
 invective and resentment to cease ; or, if such a 
 feeling will irresistibly intrude, it is time at least to 
 controul and suppress it. Twenty years have now 
 passed over the heads or the graves of the parties 
 to that melancholy conflict, and their children may 
 see prospects of prosperity opening upon their 
 country, not perhaps of the kind, or to the extent 
 to which in her more ambitious days she looked, 
 but assuredly of a more rational description than 
 could have been attained by violence; and such 
 as, when realized, as they promise soon to be, will 
 compensate for past reverses, or at all events con- 
 sole. At such a moment, in approaching this fatal 
 year, we may dismiss every sentiment of personal 
 asperity, or posthumous reproach : without wish- 
 ing to disturb the remorse of those upon either 
 side who may be repenting, or to revive the an- 
 guish of the many that have suffered, we may now 
 contemplate it as the period of an awful historical 
 event ; and allude to the mutual passions and mis-
 
 34^ LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 takes of those who acted or perished in it, with 
 the forbearance that should not be refused to the 
 unfortunate and the dead. 
 
 It has been seen, in the preceding pages, that 
 the system by which Ireland was governed had 
 excited general dissatisfaction, and that, in the 
 year 1789, several of the most able and distin- 
 guished persons in the Irish parliament formed 
 themselves into a body, for the avowed design of 
 opposing the measures of the administration, and 
 of conferring upon their country, if their exertions 
 could enable them, all the practical benefits of a 
 free constitution. While they were scarcely yet 
 engaged in this arduous struggle, the French Re- 
 volution burst upon the world — not, as it has since 
 been witnessed, presenting images of blood and 
 disorder, but coming as the messenger of harmony 
 and freedom to the afflicted nations. This cha- 
 racter of peace and innocence it did not long re- 
 tain, or was not allowed to retain ; but, in the 
 progress of its resistless career, its crimes seemed 
 for a while almost justified by the grandeur of 
 their results, and by the imposing principles which 
 they were committed to establish. It soon ap- 
 peared how popular talent, combined with popu- 
 lar force, could level all the old, decrepit opinions
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 34-9 
 
 against which they had confederated, and Europe 
 was fixed with mingled wonder and dismay upon 
 the spectacle of a self-emancipated people seated 
 upon the throne, from which they had hurled the 
 descendant of their former idols, as an hereditary 
 usurper. 
 
 The eflPects of this great event, and of the doc- 
 trines by which it was defended, were immense. 
 Every day, some long respected maxim was tried 
 and condemned, and a treatise sent forth to justify 
 the decision. The passions were excited by ad- 
 dressing the reason — by bold and naked appeals 
 to the primitive and undeniable principles of hu- 
 man rights, without allowing for the numberless 
 accidents of human condition by which those rights 
 must inevitably be modified and restrained. Phi- 
 losophy no longer remained to meditate in the 
 shade. — She was now to be seen directing the 
 movements of the camp, or marching at the head 
 of triumphal processions, or presiding at civic feasts 
 and regenerating clubs. In all this there was ab- 
 surdity — but there was enthusiasm. The enthu- 
 siasm spread with contagious fury. Every nation 
 of Europe, every petty state, became animated by 
 a new-born vigour and unaccustomed pretensions ; 
 and, as if awaking from a long slumber, imagined
 
 350 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 that they had discovered in the old social bends 
 the shackles that enslaved them. " The demo- 
 cratic principle in Europe was getting on and on 
 like a mist at the heels of the countryman, small 
 at first and lowly, but soon ascending to the hills, 
 and overcasting the hemisphere."* This principle 
 made its way to England, where the better genius 
 of the constitution prevailed against its allure- 
 ments : it passed on to Ireland, where it was wel- 
 comed with open arms by a people who had been 
 long since ripe for every desperate experiment. 
 
 During the twenty years which preceded the 
 French Revolution, the progress of intelligence 
 in Ireland had been unprecedented — a circum- 
 stance which may in part be attributed to the 
 general diffusion of knowledge at the same period 
 
 * Mr Grattan's Letter to the Citizens of Dublin. 
 The readers of Milton will not fail to recognize this image, and 
 to observe the use which men of genius can make of their prede- 
 cessors. 
 
 All in bright array 
 The cherubim descended— on the ground 
 Gliding meteorous, as evening mist 
 Ris'n from a river o'er the marish glides. 
 And gathers ground fast at the lab'rer's heels 
 Homeward returning. 
 
 Fakadise Lost, Book xii.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 351 
 
 throughout the European community, but still 
 more to the extraordinary excitement which her 
 domestic struggles had given to the Irish mind. 
 In Ireland, almost the whole of this accession of 
 intellect was expended upon political inquiries, the 
 most natural subjects of investigation in a country 
 whose actual condition was so far below her most 
 obvious claims; and this peculiar attention to 
 local politics seems to have been the reason that 
 her contributions to general science and literature 
 have not been commensurate with the genius and 
 increased acquirements of her people. It has al- 
 ready been shown how much of this new energy 
 was exerted upon the parliament for the reforma- 
 tion of the old penal system, which it was evident 
 the nation had determined no longer to endure : 
 but the parliament was inexorable; and, by thus 
 unnaturally opposing, instead of conducting, and 
 sometimes indulging sometimes controlling the 
 public sentiment, left it at the mercy of all whose 
 resentment or ambition might induce them to take 
 advantage of its exasperation. 
 
 Of such there were many in Ireland. There 
 were several men of speculative and enterprizing 
 minds, who, in looking upon the obstinate defence 
 of abuses at home, and the facility with which they
 
 352 LIFE OP CURRAN. 
 
 had been banished from a neighbouring country, 
 became convinced that a revolution would now be 
 as attainable as a reform, and that there was 
 a fund of strength and indignation in the Irish 
 people, which, if skilfully directed, would vanquish 
 every obstacle. There is no intention here of 
 passing any unthinking panegyric upon those 
 who were thus meditating a conspiracy against 
 the state — upon the merits of such fatal appeals 
 to chance and violence, no friend to law and 
 humanity can hesitate a moment — but it is due 
 to historical truth to state, that, in the present 
 instance, they were not a band of factious dema- 
 gogues, of desperate minds and ruined fortunes, 
 who were looking to a revolution as a scene of 
 confusion and depredation. In the formation of 
 such a confederacy there could, indeed, have been 
 no scrupulous selection of persons. Several, no 
 doubt, entered into the association from private 
 motives ; — some from ambition — some from vanity 
 — some from revenge : but there were many whose 
 mental attainments, and personal virtues, and en- 
 thusiastic fidelity to the cause they had espoused, 
 extorted the admiration and sympathy of those 
 who were the least disposed to justify their con- 
 duct, or deplore their fate.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 353 
 
 As early as the year 1791, the future leaders of 
 the projected designs were taking measures for 
 organizing the public force, by producing a ge- 
 neral union of sentiment amonff the various classes 
 upon whose co-operation they were to depend. As 
 yet neither their plans nor objects were distinct and 
 defined ; but without any formal avowal of those 
 objects to each other, and perhaps without being 
 fully apprized themselves of their own final deter- 
 minations, they took as effectual advantage of eveiy 
 public accident, as if the whole had been previously 
 digested and resolved. About this period several 
 of the friends to constitutional monarchy, among 
 whom appeared some of the most respected and 
 exalted characters in the country, united in form- 
 ing political societies,* for the purpose of collect- 
 ing together all the rational supporters of freedom, 
 and, by affording a legal and public channel of 
 
 • The principal of these was the Whig Club, which was formed 
 under the auspices of the late Lord Charlemont. The exansple 
 was soon followed by the establishment of societies of United Irish- 
 men at Belfast and Dublin, and finally in every part of the king- 
 dom. It would be inconsistent with the limits of this work to 
 trace minutely the progress of these societies; but it should be ob- 
 served, that several who were leading members of the United Irish- 
 men, when their designs had become revolutionary, wtre uncon- 
 
 VOL. I. A a
 
 354 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 expression to the popular sentiment, of preventing 
 the adoption of secret and formidable combina- 
 tions. Many of the persons who were afterwards 
 the most active promoters of more violent proceed- 
 ings, became members of these societies, of which 
 the avowed object was a simple redress of grievances 
 -—and with this there is reason to believe that the 
 future leaders of the conspiracy would in the first 
 instance have been satisfied ; but soon perceiving 
 the improbability of such an event, while they 
 continued, as members of the original and legal 
 associations, ostensibly to limit their views to a 
 constitutional reform, they were industriously es- 
 tablishing subordinate clubs * throuorhout the coun- 
 try, to which, in order to allure adherents, and to 
 
 iiected with them at an earh'cr period. It is also necessary to re- 
 . mark, that, though many of those who took an active part in their 
 proceedings at every period of their existence would originally have 
 been satisfied with a reform, there were exceptions. See the fol- 
 lowing note. 
 
 * Entitled " Societies of United Irishmen." By the test of the 
 more early of these societies, the members pledged themselves " to 
 persevere in endeavouring to form a brotherhood of affection among 
 Irishmen of every religious persuasion, and to obtain an equal, 
 full, and adequate representation of all the people of Ireland in the 
 Commons' House of Farliament." In the year 1795 the latter 
 words were struck out, in order to accommodate the test to tlic re-
 
 LIFE OF CURHAN. 355 
 
 evade suspicion, they assigned the same popular 
 denominations, and the same tests ; but, by im- 
 pressing on the minds of all who were admitted 
 (and all of every class were admitted) that no hope 
 of constitutional I'edress remained, they speedily 
 formed them into a widely extended confederacy, 
 under the name of the Irish Union, for revolu- 
 tionizing Ireland, and establishing a republic. 
 
 This statement refers more immediately to the 
 north of Ireland, where a large portion of the in- 
 habitants were protestants or dissenters, who, hav- 
 ing no religious disabilities to exasperate them, 
 
 volutionarj' designs that began to be generally entertained. — Report 
 of the Secret Committee, 1798. 
 
 It is a received opinion, that the celebrated Theobald V/olfe 
 Tone was the author of the Constitution of the later United Irish- 
 men ; but the writer of this work is informed by a gentleman now 
 in Ireland, who was intimately connected witii Mr Tone, that he 
 himself denied this to bo the fact. " He assured me (adds the 
 gentleman alluded to) that Captain Thomas Russell, to whom he 
 was for many years so warmly attached, was the person who drew 
 up that remarkable paper, and that he (Tone) was not a member 
 of the dose society of United Irishmen till the eve of his embarking 
 at Belfast for America, in the summer of 1795." It is, however, 
 certain that ?.Ir Tone, as far back as 1791, strongly recommended 
 to the societies of United Irishmen, then in tliL'ir infancy, to attempt 
 a revolution, as appears from his letter written in that year to the 
 society at Belfast,— Report of the Secret Committee — Appendix.
 
 356 LIFE OF CUURAN. 
 
 and being to a considerable degree possessed of 
 affluence and education, must be supposed to have 
 been determined to republican principles upon 
 purely speculative grounds. It should, however, 
 be observed, that, simultaneously with their pro- 
 ceedings, and without any connexion or commu- 
 nication with them, a most formidable leaiiue 
 existed among the poorer catholics of several dis- 
 tricts. These latter, assuming the name of De- 
 fenders,* had originally associated to repel the 
 local outrages of their protestant neighbours. 
 The frequency and the length of the conflicts in 
 which they were involved, had forced them into a 
 kind of barbarous discipline and coherence ; and 
 having now become confident from their numbers, 
 and from their familiarity with success or with 
 danger, they began to despise the laws, of which 
 they had vainly invoked the protection, and to 
 entertain a vague idea that their strength might 
 be successfully employed for the improvement of 
 their condition. While their minds were in this 
 
 * The Defenders first appeared about the year 1785: they in- 
 creased rapidly, and soon attained a considerable degree of organi- 
 zation. From the rude phraseology of their test and rules, it ap- 
 pears that the association must have been coirpoaed of the lowest 
 order in the community.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 357 
 
 state of confused excitation, emissaries were dis- 
 patched from the united societies to explain to 
 them their wrongs, and to propose the remedy. 
 The Defenders were easily persuaded by the elo- 
 quence of doctrines, which only more skilfully 
 expressed their previous sentiments ; and, laying 
 aside their religious resentments and distinctive 
 appellation, adopted the more general views and 
 title of United Irishmen. 
 
 Before the year 1 796, societies of United Irish- 
 men prevailed in every quarter of the kingdom. 
 The great majority consisted of the lowest classes, 
 of whom all that had the inducements of degrada- 
 tion, or of personal animosities, readily inlisted 
 under a standard that was to lead them to free- 
 dom and revenge. In order to secure an uni- 
 formity of action, and habits of subordination, a 
 regular and connected system (comprising com- 
 mittees, baronial, county, and provincial, and, 
 finally, an executive) was established, and periodi- 
 x;al returns of members admitted, arms procured, 
 money contributed, and of every other proceed- 
 ing, were made with all the forms and order of a 
 civil state. 
 
 Their numbers had soon become so great, that 
 nothing but discipline seemed wanting to the
 
 358 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 accomplishment of their objects ; and when we 
 consider the description of men of whom the 
 mass was composed, we cannot contemplate with- 
 out surprise the spirit of ardour and secrecy that 
 they displayed, and the enthusiastic patience with 
 which they submitted to the irksomeness of delay, 
 and to the labours and dangers by which alone 
 any degree of discipline could be acquired. In 
 the neighbourhood of the capital and principal 
 towns, where large bodies could not have assem- 
 bled without discovery, they separated into very 
 small parties, each of which appointed the most 
 skilful to direct its manoeuvres. The most active 
 search was made for persons who had ever been 
 in the military profession, to whom every motive 
 of reward, and rank, and expected glory, were 
 held out, and generally with success, to allure 
 them into the association. Under these they met, 
 night after night, to be instructed in the use of 
 arms ; sometimes in obscure cellars, hired for the 
 purpose ; sometimes in houses, where every in- 
 habitant was in the secret ; it even sometimes 
 happened that, in the metropolis, these nocturnal 
 exercises took place in the habitations of the more 
 opulent and ardent of the conspirators. In the 
 interior their evolutions were performed upon a
 
 , LIFE OF CURRAN. 359 
 
 n:ore extensive scale. There, every evening that 
 the moon, tiie signal of rendezvous, was to be seen 
 in the heavens, the peasant, without reposing from 
 the toils of the day, stole forth with his rude im- 
 plement of war, to pass the night upon the near- 
 est unfrequented heath, with the thousands of his 
 comrades, who were assembled at that place and 
 hour, as for the celebration of some unrighteous 
 mysteries. It was also a frequent custom at this 
 time, among the lower orders, to collect in large 
 bodies, under the pretext of indulging in some of 
 the national games of force ; but for the secret 
 purpose of inspiring mutual confidence, by the 
 display of their numbers, and their athletic forms, 
 and of exercising in those mimic contests the 
 alertness and vigour which they wei'e soon to em- 
 ploy in the real conflict. The general enthusiasm 
 was kept alive by the distribution of songs in 
 praise of freedom, arranged to popular native airs. 
 Green, the old distinguishing colour of the island, 
 and in itself, from its connexion with the face and 
 restorative energies of nature, an excitant to the 
 imaginations of men who conceived themselves 
 engaged in a struggle for the recovery of their na- 
 tural rights, was adopted as their emblem. Their 
 passion for spirituous liquors, a propensity in some
 
 360 tlfE OF CURRAN. 
 
 degree peculiar to those with whom it is the only 
 luxury, and to those who have exhausted every 
 other, was restrained, by explaining to them the 
 embarrassment in which the sudden non-consump- 
 tion of such a source of revenue would involve 
 the government. And so intense was the ardour 
 for the general cause, that this inveterate indul- 
 gence was sacrificed to such a motive, and the 
 populace became for a while distinguished by 
 habits of unaccustomed, and, it might be said, 
 impassioned sobriety.* 
 
 The leaders of the United Irishmen began now 
 (1796) to look with confidence to the success of 
 their designs ; but foreseeing that, notwithstand- 
 ing their strength and enthusiasm, the contest 
 with the regular forces of the government might 
 be sanguinary and protracted, they were anxious 
 to call in the aid of a disciplined army, which, by 
 directing the movements and restraining the ex- 
 cesses of the insurgents, might enable them to de- 
 cide the struofffle at a blow. For such a reinforce- 
 ment they turned their eyes towards France. The 
 documents produced upon Jackson's trial had 
 
 * Of the preceding facts, some are taken from the report of the 
 secret committee, and others are given upon the authority of in- 
 dividual information.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 3(51 
 
 lately given them public intimation, that that 
 country was disposed to assist the Irish malcon- 
 tents. The latter were aware that France could 
 have no interest in promoting a constitutional re- 
 form in Ireland, of which the obvious effect would 
 have been an accession of strength to the British 
 empire : they therefore applied for a military aid 
 to effect a separation from England.* This would 
 
 * Tlie United Irishmen dispatched an agent to France for this 
 purpose, about the middle of 1 196. Mr Tone was then at Paris, 
 and exerting all his influence to the same effect. In the first me- 
 morial which Mr Tone presented to the French directory, in order 
 to induce them to send an expedition to Ireland, he stated that at 
 that period more than two-thirds of the sailors in the British Navy 
 were Irish ; that he was present when the Catholic delegates urged 
 this to Lord Melville as one reason for granting emancipation, and 
 that his lordship had not denied the fact. This statement was un- 
 derstood to have had great weight with the directory, who imme- 
 diately committed the whole of the subject to the consideration of 
 Carnot (then one of the directory), and Generals Clarke and Hoche. 
 
 The gentleman who has communicated the preceding circum- 
 stance has added the following anecdote : 
 
 Soon after the question of an expedition to Ireland had been left 
 to the decision of Carnol, Clarke, and Hochc, they named an even- 
 ing to meet Tone at the palace of tlie Luxembourg. Tone arriv- 
 ed at the appointed hour, eight o'clock. He was ushered into a 
 splendid apartment. Shortly after, the director and the generals 
 made their appearance : they bowed coldly, but civilly, to Tone, 
 and almost immediately retired, without apology or explanation.
 
 362 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 evidently be an important object with the French 
 government ; and it was the necessity of holding 
 out such an inducement that in some degree de- 
 termined the Irish directory to the final and ex- 
 treme measure of a revolution. The French au- 
 thorities accepted the proposal, and immediately 
 prepared for the embarkation of an army lo co- 
 operate with the Irish insurgents. But the main 
 dependance of the leaders of the conspiracy was 
 upon the Irish populace ; an agricultural popula- 
 tion, full of vigour, burning for the conflict, and 
 
 through a door opposite to that by which they had entered. Tone 
 was a good deal struck by so unexpected a reception ; but his sur- 
 prise increased, when ten o'clock arrived, without the appearance 
 of, or message of any kind Irom those on whom all his hopes seem- 
 ed to depend. The clock struck eleven, twelve, one — all was still 
 in the palace ; the steps of the sentinels, on their posts without, 
 alone interrupted the dead silence that prevailed within. Tone 
 paced the room in considerable anxiety ; not even a servant had 
 entered of whom to inquire his way out, or if the director and the 
 generals had retired. About two o'clock the folding doors were 
 suddenly thrown open ; Carnot, Clarke, and Hoche entered ; their 
 countenances brightened, and the coldness and reserve so observable 
 at eight o'clock had vanished. Clarke advanced quickly to Tone, 
 and taking him cordially by the hand, said, " Citizen / I congratu- 
 late j/ou; we go to Ireland." The others did the same; and hav- 
 ing fixed the time to meet again, the persons engaged in this re- 
 markable transaction separated.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 363 
 
 long inured to habits of insurrection. Of these, 
 500,000 were in arms. 
 
 If it should here be asked by any of the many 
 subjects of the same empire, who still continue 
 strangers to the former condition of Ireland, how 
 so long and formidable a system of secret orga- 
 nization could have been carried by her people for 
 the violent dcsijin of revolutionizing their coun- 
 try ? the answer is not difficult. It sprang from 
 their degradation, and from the ignorance and 
 revenge that accompanied it. The rebellion of 
 1798 was a servile war. In Ireland, her millions 
 of peasantry were a mere collection of physical 
 beings, to whom nature had amply dispensed every 
 human passion, but to whom society had imparted 
 no motives to restrain them. The informing mind 
 of a free constitution had never reached them. 
 They never felt the tranquillizing consciousness, 
 that they were objects of respect. In Ireland, the 
 state was not the " great central heart," that dis- 
 tributed life and health, and received them in re- 
 turn. The old Irish jjovernmcnt was a mechani- 
 cal, not a moral system ; it was, what it has been 
 so often likened to, a citadel in an enemy's coun- 
 try. Its first and its last expedient was force. It 
 forjTot that those whom no force can subdue, nor
 
 364- LTf^E OF CURRAN. 
 
 dangers terrify, will kneel before an act of conci- 
 liation. But it obstinately refused to conciliate, 
 and the people at length, prepared by the suffer- 
 ings and indignities of centuries, listened with 
 sanguine or desperate credulity to the counsel 
 which reminded them of their strength, and di- 
 rected them to employ it in one furious effort, 
 which, whether it failed or prospered, could not 
 imbitter their condition. 
 
 The spirit of the government found a ready and 
 fatal co-operation in the gentry of the land. Never 
 was there a class of men less amenable to the les- 
 sons of experience. Adversity, the great instruc- 
 tor of the wise, brought to them all its afflictions 
 without their antidote. Every fierce, inveterate 
 resentment of the race lineally descended, with 
 the title-deeds, from the father to the child. Year 
 after year the landlord's house was fired, his stock 
 was plundered, his rent unpaid, his land a waste, 
 and each succeeding year he was seen effecting his 
 escape, through scenes of turbulence and danger, 
 from his estate to the capital, to make his perio- 
 dical complaint of his sufferings, and to give the 
 minister another vote for their continuance. 
 
 The Irish landlord of the last century was the 
 great inciter to insurrection. With a nominal
 
 LIFE OF cunuAN. 365 
 
 superiority of rank and education, he was in every 
 ferocious propensity upon a level with the degrad- 
 ed dependants whom he affected to contemn, and 
 whose passions he vainly laboured to controul, 
 because he had never set them the example by 
 controlling his own. Finding his efforts abortive, 
 he next vindictively debased them ; and the con- 
 sequence was, that in a little time he shared the 
 same fate with his victims. The condition of Ire- 
 land, during the eighteenth century, affords a strik- 
 ing and melancholy example of the certain retri- 
 bution with which a system of misrule will visit 
 those who so mistake their own interests as to jjive 
 it their support. An inconsiderable order, or a 
 single sect, may (however unjustly) be degraded 
 with impunity ; but the degradation of the mass 
 of a nation will inevitably recoil upon its oppres- 
 sors. The consequences may not always be visi- 
 ble in formidable acts of force ; but there is a 
 silent and unerring retaliation in the effects upon 
 morals and manners, by which the tyrant is made 
 eventually to atone for his crimes. In every con- 
 dition of society the predominating sentiments and 
 manners will spread and assimilate. In highly 
 polished states they may be observed descending 
 from the higher to the inferior ranks. The cour^
 
 366 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 tesy and humanity of the old French peer were 
 found to give a tinge to the conversation of the 
 mechanic. In uncivilized countries the progress 
 is the reverse; the rudeness of the boor vi^ill ascend 
 and taint his master. The latter was the case in 
 Ireland. The Irish peasant, in his intercourse 
 with his superiors, saw nothing of which the imi- 
 tation could soften and improve him. The gentry, 
 although conscious that their religion, and the 
 violent means by which so many of them had ac- 
 quired their properties, excited the suspicion and 
 aversion of those below them, resorted to every 
 infallible method of confirmin<T these hostile im- 
 pressions. Instead of endeavouring to eradicate 
 them by mildness and protection, they insulted 
 and oppressed. The dependant, unrestrained by 
 any motive of affection or respect, avenged himself 
 by acts of petty outrage. The outrage was re- 
 sented and punished as an original, unprovoked 
 aggression. Fresh revenge ensued ; and hence 
 every district presented scenes of tui^bulent conten- 
 tion, in which the haughty lord lost whatever dig- 
 nity he had possessed, and finally became infected 
 with the barbarous passions and manners of the 
 vassals whom he had disdained to civilize, till he 
 required as much to be civilized himself.
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 367 
 
 The attachment of the Irish peasant to the go- 
 vernment was suspected ; but nothing could have 
 been more unskilful than the means adopted to 
 secure his fidelit3\ The Irish aristocracy, who 
 imagined that because they were loyal, they might 
 proceed to every violent extreme, were a band of 
 political fanatics, and would have made proselytes 
 by the sword. They knew nothing of the real 
 nature of the allegiance which they were so zeal- 
 ous to establish, and which was never yet esta- 
 blished by the sword. They were not aware, that 
 the allegiance of a nation to the state is a feeling 
 compounded of a thousand others, half interest, 
 half sentiment, of gratitude, of hope, of recollec- 
 tions, of the numberless minute and " tender influ- 
 ences" that reconcile the subject to his condition; 
 that it is seldom a direct and defined attachment 
 to the sovereign, but a collection of many subordi- 
 nate attachments, of which the sovereign has all 
 the benefit ; that it is but the youngest of the 
 group of private virtues, and, like them, must be 
 reared in the bosom of domestic comfort ; that it 
 is upon the moral allegiance of each rank to its 
 immediate relations, of the servant to his master, 
 of the artisan to his employer, of the tenant to his
 
 368 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 landlord, that must be founded the political alle- 
 giance of the whole to the state. 
 
 Those mistaken loyalists supposed that they 
 were teaching allegiance by a haughty and vindic- 
 tive enforcement of the laws against its violation. 
 They did not see that they were exacting from the 
 laws what no laws could perform ; that their posi- 
 tive provisions must be always impotent, where 
 their spirit is not previously infused into the sub- 
 ject by manners and institutions. In Ireland these 
 two were at perpetual variance. The Irish law- 
 giver passed his statute, setting forth, in pompous 
 phraseology, its wisdom and necessity, and de- 
 nouncing the gibbet against the offender, and 
 then returned to his district to defeat its efficacy, 
 by giving a practical continuance to the misery, 
 the passions, the galling epithets, and the long 
 train of customary insults and local provocations 
 that were for ever instigating to crime. He did, 
 what was stranger and more absurd than this — he 
 had the folly to put the state in competition with 
 a power above it. He trampled upon the religion 
 of the people* — not reflecting, that though by the 
 
 . * The first attacks upon the Irish catholics originated in the 
 English parliament; but the Irish aristocracy gave the penal code 
 their fullest support. Had the latter performed their duty an^
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 369 
 
 doctrines of Christianity all injuries are to be for- 
 given, it had been the universal practice of its va- 
 rious sects, for successive centuries, to except the 
 offences committed against themselves. He point- 
 ed to the peasant's chapel, and gloried in the re- 
 flection, that the disloyal bell which had called 
 tKeir fathers to worship should never sound upon 
 the ears of their children — as if to approach his 
 Maker with a little show of decent pomp was not 
 the harmless pride of every man of every faith 
 upon the surface of the globe. He thought he 
 could drive them along the path of allegiance, 
 where he had placed their religion to stop the 
 way ; and was surprised, that, when the alterna- 
 tive was to be made, they should turn upon their 
 driver, rather than advance in the face of what 
 they dreaded more than death. 
 
 The mass of the Irish people were tillers of the 
 soil, and were thus systematically debarred, by 
 those who should have been their patrons and in- 
 structors, from every motive to be tranquil. The 
 country gentleman, the great bulwark (if he per- 
 
 undeceived England upon the supposed necessity of continuing 
 it, the fate of Ireland would have been very different . but upon 
 this sulyect England was abused, and is to this hour abused. 
 VOL. I. B b
 
 370 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 forms his duties) against extended projects of re- 
 volution, hated them and feared them. He re- 
 ceived them with sullen reserve when they brought 
 him his rent, and trembled at the vigorous hands 
 that paid it ; but there was no moral intercourse 
 between them, no interchange of sympathy and 
 endearing offices. The landlords, in constant 
 alarm for their property and safety, would not 
 convert the depredator into a protector. They 
 opposed the tenant's education, which would have 
 taught him to employ his idle hours in acquiring 
 a love of order, instead of passing them in plans 
 to recover in plunder what he had paid in rent, 
 and looked upon as tribute. Erecting themselves 
 into the little deities of their own district, they 
 would not let the tenant touch of knowledge, lest 
 he should " become as one of them." They drew 
 between themselves and their natural allies a proud 
 line of separation, which effectually cut off all com- 
 munications of reciprocal affection, but proved a 
 barrier of air against the irruptions of hatred and 
 of force. In Ireland there were none of those 
 feudal privileges and courtesies which bring the 
 persons and feelings of the Scottish dependants 
 into closer contact with those of their superiors. 
 The Irish peasant was never seen in the hall of hi*
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 371 
 
 lord. He was left in his hovel to brood over his 
 degradation — to solace or inflame his fancy with 
 legendary traditions of his country's ancient glory, 
 and with rude predictions of her coming regene- 
 ration, and to hail, in every factious demagogue, 
 the Messiah that was to redeem her. 
 
 These were the real causes of the avidity with 
 which the Irish populace rushed into this formi- 
 dable conspiracy. The government was early 
 apprised of its existence, though not of its extent, 
 and took very vigorous but ineffectual means to 
 suppress it. Session after session it resorted to 
 measures of terror or precaution, by penal acts, 
 and prosecutions to ti-y their efficacy ; but, of the 
 persons thus proceeded against, the acquittal of 
 many only served to bring discredit upon the 
 administration, while the executions of such as 
 were convicted were regarded by their party as 
 so many acts of hostile severity, that called, not 
 for submission, but revenge. The ministers of 
 the crown conducted themselves, at this trying- 
 crisis, with a zeal which could not be too much 
 applauded, if it were not so often carried to ex- 
 cess, and with the most undoubted fidelity to the 
 powers whom they served ; but throughout they 
 committed one fatal error, which must for ever
 
 372 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 detract from their characters as able statesmen. 
 Because it was evident that a few educated men 
 were at the head of the popular combinations, 
 they adopted, and to the last persisted in the 
 opinion, or at least in the assertion, that the 
 whole was essentially a conspiracy of a few spe- 
 culative adventurers, who had seduced the nation 
 from its allegiance, and that all the power and 
 wisdom of the state was to be confined to the 
 counteraction of the malignant design ; and to this 
 notion, notwithstanding its daily refutation, they 
 adhered with the spirit rather of persons engaged 
 in an acrimonious controversy, than of ministers 
 whose duty it was to save the country from the 
 horrors of a civil war.* It was to no purpose 
 that the sophistiy with which they defended it was 
 exposed — it was in vain that they were told, by 
 men who knew the state of Ireland and the ge- 
 neral course of the human passions as well as they 
 
 * Even after the suppression of the rebellion, when the govern- 
 ment possessed the fullest information regarding its origin and 
 progress, the viceroy, in his speech to the parliament, was made to 
 say, " the foulest and darkest conspiracy wasforDted and long car- 
 ried on by the implacable enemy of this realm, for the total ex- 
 tinction of the constitution," &c. — Lord' Lieutenant's Speech, Oc- 
 tober 6. 179S.
 
 LIFE OF CURIIAN. 373 
 
 did, that their reasonings would never satisfy the 
 disaffected — that the dissatisfaction was not tem- 
 porary or accidental, but radical — and that it was 
 only a waste of time and of life to resort to unpo- 
 pular laws and frequent executions, while the 
 parent mischief remained untouched upon the 
 statute book. The Irish ministry not only spurned 
 those counsels, which the event proved to have 
 been prophetic, but, superadding a farther error, 
 they reviled the advisers with so little discretion, 
 that they gave the real conspirators official autho- 
 rity for believing that the opposers of administm- 
 tion were secretly the advocates of rebellion, and 
 thus afforded them an additional incitement to 
 persevere in their designs.* 
 
 * A leading member of the minority in the Irish House of 
 Commons was the late Mr George Ponsonby, a gentleman, who, 
 if the purest constitutional views and personal dignity of deport- 
 ment could have saved from insults, would have escaped tliem ; 
 but at this period no dignity was a protection. lie, among others, 
 impressed upon the ministry that Ireland could bo preserved from 
 the threatened crisis by no means but by a complete reform of the 
 parliament, by catholic emancipation, and by an equalization of 
 commerce between England and Ireland. The following was the 
 answer of one of the servants of the crown (Solicitor- general Toler) 
 to Mr Ponsonby's opinions : " What was it come to, that in the 
 Irish H0U6C of Commons they should listen to one of their own
 
 374 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 This glaring departure from the most obvious 
 prudence has been variously explained. By many 
 it has been attributed to incapacity. A more 
 general opinion was, that the government was 
 fomenting the conspiracy, in order that the ex- 
 cesses to which it would lead might reconcile the 
 nation to a legislative union : and, however vulgar 
 and improbable the latter supposition may appear, 
 it is still perhaps the only one that can satisfac- 
 torily explain the apparent inconsistencies and 
 infatuation of their councils. 
 
 The enemy of Great Britain had already made 
 an abortive effort* to transport an armament to 
 
 members degrading the character of an Irish gentleman by lan- 
 guage which was fitted but for hallooing a mob ? Had he heard a 
 man uttering out of those doors such language as that by which 
 the honourable gentleman had violated the decorum of parliament, 
 he would have seized the ruffian by the throat, and dragged him 
 to the dust ! What were the House made of who could listen in 
 patience to such abominable sentiments ? — sentiments which, thank 
 God, were acknowledged by no class of men in this country, ex- 
 cept the execrable and infamous nest of traitors, who were known 
 by the name of United Irishmen, who sat brooding in Belfast over 
 their discontents and treasons, and from whose publications he 
 could trace, word for word, every expression the honourable gen- 
 tleman had used." — Irish Pari. Deb. Feb. 1797. 
 
 * In December 1796, the French fleet was dispersed by a 
 storm. A part of it anchored in Bantry Bay, where it remained
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 375 
 
 Ireland, the landing of which was to have been 
 the signal for the intended rising ; but the leaders 
 
 for some days ! but the vessel on board of whicli General Hoclie 
 (the commander of the expedition) was, not arriving, the French 
 admiral, without attempting a landing, returned to France. 
 
 It is well known that grievous complaints were made in the 
 English parliament against the ministry, for having left the coasts 
 of Ireland so unprotected on this occasion. In explanation of this 
 apparent negligence, Theobald Wolfe Tone, who had been confi- 
 dentially employed in the preparations for the French expedition, 
 (he was himself on board one of the vessels that anchored in Ban- 
 try Bay), related the following circumstance, as having come with- 
 in his personal knowledge: — While this formidable armament, 
 which had so long fixed the attention of Europe, was fitting out at 
 Brest, various conjectures prevailed as to its probable destination. 
 Tlie general opinion was, that the invasion of either Ireland or 
 Portugal was intended. There was at this time (according to Mr 
 Tone's account) a secret agent of the British minister at Brest, 
 who, having discovered that a particular printer of that town had 
 General Hoche's proclamations in his press, privately offered him a 
 large sum for a single copy. With this offer the printer made 
 General Hoche acquainted, who immediately drew up a proclama- 
 tion, as addressed to the Portuguese by the commander of the 
 French invading army. A few copies of this were accordingly, by 
 the General's desire, struck off, and handed by the printer to the 
 agent. The latter forwarded them to Mr Pitt, whom the receipt 
 of such a document is said to have so completely deceived, that he 
 directed the British squadrons to make Portugal the peculiar ob- 
 ject of their vigilance, and, in the first instance, treated the report 
 of an actual descent upon Ireland with derision.
 
 376 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 of the Irish union, still depending upon the pro- 
 mised renewal of the attempt, had been anxious 
 to restrain the impatience of the people until the 
 foreign succours should arrive. Disappointed, 
 however, in their expectations from abroad, and 
 apprehending from any further delay, either the 
 uncontrollable impetuosity or the desertion of their 
 followers, they resolved, in the early part of this 
 
 Although the appearance of the French fleet in Bantry Bay pro- 
 duced no movements of disaffection in the vicinity, it was yet at 
 this period, or very shortly after, tliat the organization of the 
 United Irishmen was most complete, and their prospect of success 
 most promising. In 1797 they felt assured, that, in the event of a 
 general insurrection, the greater number of the Irish militia regi- 
 ments would have revolted. It is confidently asserted, that an at- 
 tack upon Dublin having been proposed in that year, every soldier 
 who mounted guard in that city on the night of the intended at- 
 tempt was in their interests. 
 
 The following occurrence, however ludicrous, is a striking proof 
 of the prevailing sentiment among the native forces. At this time 
 persons of democratic principles, in imitation of the French revo- 
 lutionists, wore their hair short, behind; from which custom crop- 
 pies and rebels became synonymous terms. A commander of yeo- 
 manry in Dublin, while reviewing his corps, observed a false tail 
 lying upon the parade. He held it up, and asked who had drop- 
 ped it. By an instantaneous movement, every man of the corps 
 raised his hand to the back of his head. This corps is said to have 
 been in consequence disbanded on the following day.
 
 LIFE OF cuhran. 377 
 
 year (1798), against their better judgment, to 
 bring the matter to a final issue. The 23d of 
 May was fixed as the day for a general insurrec- 
 tion. 
 
 Of this intention the government having re- 
 ceived information in the course of the preceding 
 March, arrested several of the principal leaders in 
 the capital ; and, announcing by proclamation the 
 existence of the conspiracy, authorized the mili- 
 tary powers to employ the most summary methods 
 of suppressing it. 
 
 This formal declaration of the impending crisis 
 w^as followed by the most extreme agitation of 
 the public mind. Every ear was catching, every 
 tongue was faltering some tremendous confirma- 
 tion that the hour was at hand. As it approach- 
 ed, the fearful tokens became too manifest to be 
 mistaken. In the interior, the peasantry were al- 
 ready in motion. Night after night large masses 
 of them were known to be proceeding by unfre- 
 quented paths to some central points. Over whole 
 tracts of country the cabins were deserted, or con- 
 tained only women and children, from whom the 
 inquirers could extort no tidings of the owners. 
 In the towns, to which, in the intervals of labour, 
 the lower classes delighted to flock, a frightful di-
 
 378 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 minution of numbers was observed ; while the few 
 that appeared there betrayed, by the moody ex- 
 ultation of their looks, that they were not ignorant 
 of the cause. Throughout the capital, against 
 which the first fury of the insurgents was to be 
 directed, and where, from its extent, there could 
 never be a certainty that the attack had not al- 
 ready begun, the consternation was universal. 
 The spectacle of awful preparation, that promised 
 security, gave no tranquillity. In the panic of 
 the moment the measures for security became so 
 many images of danger. The military array and 
 bustle in some streets — the silence and desertion of 
 others — the names of the inhabitants registered on 
 every door — the suspension of public amusements, 
 and almost of private intercourse — the daily pro- 
 clamations — prayers put up in the churches for 
 the general safety — families flying to England — 
 partings that might be eternal — every thing op- 
 pressed the imagination with the conviction, that 
 a great public convulsion was at hand. The par- 
 liament* and the courts of justice, with a laudable 
 
 * On the 22d of May (the day before the insurrection) the 
 House of Commons voted an address to the viceroy, expressing 
 their fidelity, and their reliance upon the vigilance and vigour of 
 his government. In order to render the proceeding more impos-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 379 
 
 attachment to the forms of the constitution, con- 
 tinued their sittings ; but the strange aspect of 
 senators and advocates transacting civil business 
 in the garb of soldiers, reminded the spectator 
 that the final dependence of the state was upon a 
 power beyond the laws. In Dublin the domestics 
 of the principal citizens had disappeared, and 
 gone off to join the insurgents ; while those who 
 could not be seduced to accompany them, became 
 the more suspected from this proof of their fide- 
 lity : they could have remained, it was apprehend- 
 ed, for the sole purpose of being spies upon their 
 masters, and co-operators in their intended des- 
 truction ; and thus, to the real dangers of a ge- 
 neral design against the government, were added 
 all the imaginary horrors of a project of individual 
 vengeance. The vigorous precautions of the ad- 
 ministration, instead of inspiring confidence, kept 
 alive the public terror and suspense. In every 
 quarter of the kingdom the populace were sent in 
 droves to the prisons, till the prisons could con- 
 tain no more. The vessels in the several bays 
 adjoining the scenes of disturbance were next 
 
 ing, all the members of that House, with the speaker at their head, 
 walked through the streets, two and two, and presented the addicss 
 to his excellency.
 
 380 LIFE OF CURRAN. 
 
 converted into gaols. The law was put aside. 
 A non-commissioned officer became the arbiter 
 of life and death. The military were dispersed 
 through every house : military visits were paid to 
 every house in search of arms, or other evidence 
 of treason. The dead were intercepted on their 
 passage to the grave, and their coffins examined, 
 lest they might contain rebellious weapons. Many 
 of the conspirators were informally executed. 
 Many persons who were innocent were arrested 
 and abused. Many, who might have been in- 
 nocent, were suspected, and summarily put to 
 death. 
 
 Upon the appointed day the explosion took 
 place. The shock was dreadful. The imamna- 
 tion recoils from a detail of the scenes that follow- 
 ed. Every excess that could have been appre- 
 hended from a soldiery, whom General Aber- 
 crombie, in the language of manly reproof, had 
 declared to be in a state of licentiousness that ren- 
 dered it formidable to all but the enemy — every 
 act of furious retaliation to be expected from a 
 peasantry inflamed by revenge and despair, and, 
 in consequence of the loss of their leaders, surren- 
 dered to the auspices of their own impetuous pas- 
 sions, distinguished and disgraced this fatal con-
 
 LIFE OF CURRAN. 381 
 
 flict.* After a short and sanguinary struggle, 
 the insurgents were crushed. The numbers of 
 them who perished in the field, or on the scaffold, 
 or -were exiled, are said to have amounted to 
 50,000; — the losses upon the side of the crown 
 have been computed at 20,000 lives; — a solemn 
 and memorable fact ! — 70,000 subjects sacrificed 
 in a single year, whose energies, had other maxims 
 of government prevailed, might have been devoted 
 to what it is equally the interest of subjects and 
 governments to promote — the cause of rational 
 freedom, the possession of which can alone inspire 
 a manly and enlightened attachment to the laws 
 and the state. 
 
 * The high state of passion and resentment which prevailed at 
 this unfortunate period may be collected from the single fact, that 
 in the House of Commons a member suggested that military exe- 
 cutions should have a retrospective operation, and that the state 
 prisoners, who had been for several weeks in the bands of the go- 
 vernment, should be summarily disposed of; but the secretary, 
 (Lord Castlereagh), with becoming dignity and humanity, vehe- 
 mently discountenanced so shocking a proposal.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The following fragment of a religious essay, written when Mr 
 Curran considered himself as destined for the church, may gratify 
 the curiosity of some. It has few claims to originality, but it is 
 not uninstructive to shew that tlie originality which subsequently 
 distinguished him was as much the reward of cultivation as a gift 
 of nature. 
 
 " If we reflect a little on the strange manner in which most of 
 our fellow-travellers conduct themselves in this journey through 
 life, we cannot wonder that the perverseness of human nature has 
 been, in all ages, a standing subject of reproach, or of ridicule. 
 The way at best is tedious and distressing, difficult to tread, ob- 
 scured with clouds, and perplexed with thorns. But it is certain 
 that man, ever ready to torment himself, has, by his own inventive 
 discontent, created a set of grievances more formidable and more 
 numerous than those which nature or Providence designed that he 
 should suffer : instead of alleviating such evils as we cannot avoid, 
 by consolation drawn from the blessings which we or our neigh- 
 bours enjoy, we follow a course directly contrary; we strive to 
 place our own condition in the most unfavourable point of view ; 
 we endeavour, with an ingratitude equally impious and absurd, to 
 extinguish every light, and to exaggerate every shade in the pic- 
 ture ; the favours that Providence has heaped upon us, more abun- 
 dantly than perhaps we deserve, we arrogantly account the sparing
 
 384 APPENDIX. 
 
 reward of our deserts, and murmur at those corrections which, in 
 general, are less proportioned to our demerits than to the tender- 
 ness and compassion of that Being who remembers mercy in his 
 punishments : And if we turn our eyes to the situations of those 
 around us, we are too apt, instead of soothing their afflictions and 
 rejoicing in their happiness, to overlook the former, and to pervert 
 the latter, into a source, not of congratulation and pleasure, but of 
 jealousy and discontent. As for those who owe their wretchedness 
 to so monstrous a depravity as this, they are justly punished by the 
 consequences of their own unworthiness ; they are objects rather of 
 horror than of pity. But there are others equally unhappy, from a 
 cause less criminal, and of course more pitiable ; they have hearts 
 that can glow with transport at the good fortune of their fellow- 
 creatures, or bleed for their distresses ; but from a despondency of 
 spirit, or too keen a sensibility, they sink under every evil that be- 
 falls themselves, whether it arises from the reality of things or the 
 timorous exaggerations of fancy ; they are miserable, not because 
 they are wicked, but because they are not wise. To them every 
 thing wears a melancholy aspect ; they behold human life through 
 a medium that magnifies or distorts every object; they consider it 
 as subject to perpetual disasters which they cannot avoid, and 
 which they are unable to endure ; they lift their eyes to the train 
 of ills that infest it ; they discover a dreadful array of pain, poverty, 
 sickness, and they are filled with anguish at the prospect ; they can- 
 not bear, with patience, that their own repose should lie at the 
 mercy of the vices and follies of a corrupt world, and that human 
 happiness should be supported by so slender a thread, as every ad- 
 verse wind of fortune may endanger or destroy. Those people 
 have formed an imaginary, and consequently a mistaken standard 
 of perfection, by which they judge the designs and the works of 
 their Creator. In the most ordinary piece of mechanism, we see
 
 APPENDIX. 385 
 
 how impossible it is to form any opinion of its excellence or im- 
 perfection, unless we are previously acquainted with the principles 
 on which it is formed, and the uses it is intended to answer ; and 
 yet we daily hear men, with the utmost confidence, pronounce a 
 judgment on this complicated system of things, of which they are 
 but an inconsiderable part, and of which it is impossible they should 
 have any adequate conception. Strange infatuation ! — as if an 
 atom could measure the boundless region of immensity, or the crea- 
 ture comprehend the infinite wisdom of his Creator. Man views 
 tlie world as if it had been contrived for no other purpose than- his 
 convenience; lost and bewildered in the labyrinths of Providence, 
 he blames the want of design, because the narrowness of his under- 
 standing is unable to reach it ; assuming the little corner to which 
 his vision is confined as the centre of things, he exclaims against 
 those fancied irregularities which arise from the dimness of his 
 sight, or the disadvantage of his situation ; he exclaims that the 
 earth he inhabits is deformed with rocks and mountains ; but a 
 little attention would discover to him, that besides being subservient 
 to many things necessary to our well-being, tliose inequalities no 
 longer are visible, when the spectator is removed to a proper dis- 
 tance from the object; he complains that the moral system is equal- 
 ly full of disproportion and enormity; but he will not always so 
 restrain his impatience as to inquire into the causes of these appear- 
 ances, to justify and adore, as far as he can discern, and to supply 
 the defects of his sight, by the implicitness of his faith and his re- 
 signation. That we are absolutely dependent on the will of that 
 Being who has placed us here, should, perhaps, be of itself a suffi- 
 cient inducement to the most unmurmuring acquiescence under his 
 dispensations; but the all-gracious Deity has in this, as well as in 
 every other instance, kindly united our pleasure and our duty : ever 
 readier to advise than, to impose, to persuade than to command, he 
 
 VOL. I. C C
 
 386 APPENDIX. 
 
 would rather engage us as his children to pursue our own happi- 
 ness, than oblige us as his creatures to submit ourselves to his will. 
 He does not, therefore, say to us — ' I have enjoined, and ye must 
 obey ; I have inflicted, and ye must suffer ;' but he invites the heart 
 that is wounded by distress, and the mind that is labouring under 
 uncertainty, to approach him with reverence and assurance of his 
 mercy ; to gain wisdom by considering his works, and comfort by 
 receiving his promises. Let us then avail ourselves of this permis- 
 sion ; let us take a view of the conduct of Providence towards us, 
 with respect to our present state and our future destination ; and 
 let us do it with that awful respect that is due to the greatness of 
 our Maker, and the gratitude we owe to his benevolence ; and if 
 we enter upon this inquiry with the candour and modesty that be- 
 comes us, we will find that he has concealed nothing from us whicli 
 it concerns us to know, and that, though our powers are not form- 
 ed to pervade and to comprehend the ways and the designs of infi- 
 m'te wisdom, we may yet discover enough to make us admire the 
 goodness of our Creator, to render us obedient to his laws, to re- 
 ^concile us to the seeming difficulties of our situation in this life, 
 and to stimulate us to every exertion that may approve us deserv- 
 ing of a better. 
 
 " As to the present condition of human existence, we are suffi- 
 ciently assured that this life is only a preliminary stage of being, 
 preparatory for, and introductory to, an higlier and a more perfect 
 one. Had man been endued with no superiority above the other 
 works of the divine Architect that surround him, he might, like 
 them, attain to this high and more perfect state, by the necessary 
 progress of his own nature, by a sort of vegetative increase, as a 
 plant advances from seed to maturity. The more ordinary parts of 
 the creation are produced for no purpose that relates to themselves ; 
 they are impelled in tlieir progress to maturity by a necessary and
 
 APPENDIX. 887 
 
 ttnconscious impulse ; they grow, they flourish, and they fade, alike 
 insensible of their improvement or decay. But man, formed for 
 the most glorious purposes, in all vi-hich he is intimately, if not en- 
 tirely, concerned, designed to outlive the wreck of time, and to 
 enjoy or to suffer a never-ending duration, and animated by a soul 
 that may aspire and attain to the most exalted perfection, should 
 travel on to his destination with a nobler guide than brutal instinct 
 or blind necessity, those substitutes of discernment in the beast tliat 
 perishes, or the plant tliat widiers. In proportion as he is raised 
 eminently above those, so must the motives and principles of his 
 conduct be more elevated, more worthy of the rank he holds : they 
 must be driven forward to the end tliey are designed for by an im- 
 pulse from without; he must determine his actions to a certain 
 point, by an effort from within. Reduced by his wants and his 
 weakness to an absolute dependence on his Maker, and to a conse- 
 quent necessity of submitting to his laws, he is rendered capable of 
 receiving those laws, by a reason to inquire, and a will left at 
 liberty to follow the dictates of his understanding ; but, strongly 
 impelled by his appetites and desires, he is incessantly actuated to 
 seek his own happiness. And here we cannot but admire the wisdom 
 and goodness of God. Had our obedience to him required one 
 course of conduct and our own well-being another, we might have 
 been eternally perplexed between such incompatible objects; we 
 must, in that case, have been reduced to the wretched alternative of 
 being either miserable or rebellious ; but the all-bountiful Being, 
 studiously solicitous for the happiness of those he has made, has re- 
 moved this embarrassment, by making our allegiance and our de- 
 sire of happiness mutual incentives, mutual strengtheners and sup- 
 porters of each other, and confirming our duty to him by our duty 
 to ourselves. If we conform ourselves to the rules he has prescrib- 
 ed, we will enjoy happiness as at once the reward of our merit, and
 
 388 APPENDIX. 
 
 the necessary consequence of it, because those rules contain nothing 
 in them that is not indispensably necessary for preserving us, and 
 advancing us to that degree of perfection which we are formed to 
 attain. But while we adore the benevolence of God, in thus soli- 
 citously consulting our pleasure and advantage, we may also observe, 
 that the most exalted privilege of our nature, and the most extraordi>» 
 nary instance of his bounty, may become the source of affliction to 
 mankind. Nor should this reflection diminish our gratitude for the 
 blessing, when we consider how the best things, if perverted to other 
 . purposes than they were intended to answer, degenerate into the 
 most pernicious ; and when we also consider how much it is in our 
 power to avoid this perversion in the present case. The object of 
 man's pursuit is happiness. His Maker and his reason inform him 
 tliat he can acquire it only by following the rules prescribed to him 
 by both. But man's will is free ; he is therefore at liberty to neglect 
 or to pursue these means, and of consequence to fail or to succeed 
 in the end. He may also choose not to be virtuous; and should 
 he so deprave himself, he must submit to unhappiness, not only as 
 the punishment incurred by disobeying his Maker, who perhaps 
 may suspend his vengeance over the ungrateful oflTender, or defer it 
 till some future state of existence, but also as the inevitable conse- 
 quence of violating the rules necessary to the preservation and per- 
 fection of his nature, which, as being a natural effect, cannot pos- 
 sibly be remote, but must flow immediately from its cause." 
 
 i
 
 APPENDIX. 389 
 
 MR GRATTAN'S LETTER.* 
 
 Dublin, July 1. 1797. 
 
 To MY Fellow-citizens of Dublik, 
 
 " I THANK you for past favours : I have found in you a 
 kind and a gracious master ; you have found in me an unprofitable 
 servant : under that impression, I beg to assure you, that so long 
 as the present state of representation in the commons' house conti- 
 nues, so long must I respectfully decline the honour of soliciting at 
 your hands a seat in that assembly. 
 
 " On this principle it was I withdrew from parliament, together 
 with those with whom I act ; and I now exercise my privilege, and 
 discharge my duty in communicating with my constituents, at the 
 eve of a general election, some say an immediate dissolution, when 
 I am to render back a trust, which, until parliament shall be re- 
 formed, I do not aspire to reassume. The account of the most 
 material parts of my conduct, together with the reason of my reso- 
 lution, will be the subject of this letter. 
 
 " When I speak of my conduct, I mean that adopted in com- 
 mon and in concert with the other gentlemen. We should have 
 felt ourselves deficient in duty if we had not made one effort before 
 the close of the parliament, for the restoration of domestic peace, 
 by the only means by which it seemed attainable — conciliation ; 
 and if we had not submitted our opinions, however fallible, and 
 our anxieties, however insignificant, on a subject which in its ex- 
 istence sliook your state, and in its consequences must shake the 
 
 ♦ Referred to in the note to page 307,
 
 390 APPENDIX. 
 
 empire. Our opinion was, that the origin of the evil, the source 
 of the discontent, and the parent of the disturbance, was to be traced 
 to an ill-starred and destructive endeavour on the part of the mini- 
 ster of the crown, to give to the monarch a power which the con- 
 stitution never intended ; to render the king in parliament every 
 thing, and the people nothing; and to work the people completely 
 out of the house of commons, and in their place to seat and esta- 
 blish the chief magistrate absolute and irresistible. It appeared to 
 us that a minister guilty of such a crime is as much a traitor to the 
 constitution, as the people would be to the king if they shoiJd ad- 
 vance in arms, and place their leader on the throne: more guilty 
 of treason in equity and justice, because in them it would be only 
 rebellion against their creature — the king ; but in the other it would 
 be rebellion against his creator — the people. It occurred to us 
 that in this country the offence would be still higher, because in 
 this country it would be the introduction not only of a despotic, 
 but of a foreign yoke, and the revival of that great question which 
 in 1782 agitated this country, and which, till your parliament shall 
 be reformed, must agitate this country for ever. We thought no 
 Irishman — we were sure no honest Irishman — would ever be in 
 heart with government, so long as the parliament of this country 
 shall be influenced by the cabinet of England; and were convinced 
 that the people would not be the more reconciled to a foreign yoke, 
 because re-imposed by the help of their own countrymen : as long 
 as they think this to be the case, we were convinced they will hate 
 the administration, and the administration will hate them. On 
 this principle we recollected the parliament of this country pledged 
 their lives and fortunes in 1 782, though some seem to have thought 
 better of it since, and are ready to pledge their lives and fortunes 
 against this principle. We could not seriously believe that the 
 people of Ireland were ready to resist the legislative usurpation of
 
 APPENDIX. 391 
 
 the British parliament, in whose station the greatness of the tyrant 
 would have qualified the condition of the slave, and that the same 
 people were now ready to prostrate themselves to the legislative 
 usurpation of another body — a British cabinet — a humiliated, and 
 a tame tyrant. We recollected to have heard that the friends of 
 ministry had lamented that England had not acceded to the Ameri- 
 can claim of exclusive legislature, and afterward attempted to re- 
 establish British dominion by influencing the American assembly- 
 We saw the ministry pursue that very plan toward Ireland, which 
 they regretted they had not resorted to in the case of America. We 
 need not repeat the particulars ; but we saw the result to be on the 
 mind of the people a deep-rooted and established discontent and 
 jealousy; and we conceived that whatever conspiracies existed, ia 
 any extent or degree, proceeded from that original and parent con- 
 spiracy in the minister to subvert the parliamentary constitution by 
 the influence of the crown. It appeared to us that the discontent 
 and disturbance so created was greatly increased by another cause 
 — the treatment of his majesty's catholic subjects. It is the busi- 
 ness of the minister to observe the changes in the national spirit, 
 as much as the changes of foreign combinations. It was the mis- 
 fortune of our ministry that they never attended to those changes ; 
 Ihey did not perceive that the religious principle and temper, as 
 well as the political, had undergone on the Continent, in America, 
 and in Ireland, a fundamental alteration ; that the example of 
 America had had prodigious effect on Europe ; the example and 
 doctrine of Europe had had no effect on America ; they did not 
 see that in consequence of that cause, (there were other causes also), 
 the Irish Catholic of 1792 did not bear the smallest resemblance 
 to the Irish Catholic of 1692; that the influence of pope, priest, 
 and pretender, were at an end. Other dangers and other influences 
 uiight have arisen, new objccU and new pas;iions; the mind of the
 
 392 APPENDIX. 
 
 people is never stationary — the mind of courts is often stagnant; 
 but those new dangers were to be provided against in a manner 
 very different from the provisions made against the old. Indeed, 
 the continuation of the old system of safety approximated and se- 
 cured the new^ danger : unfortunately our ministers did not think 
 so ; they thought, they said, that the Irish Catholic, notwithstand- 
 ing the American revolution, notwithstanding the French revolu- 
 tion, religious as well as political, was. still the bigot of the last 
 century ; that with respect to him the age had stood still ; that he 
 was not impressed with the new spirit of liberty, but still moped 
 under the old spirit of bigotry, and ruminated on the triumph of 
 the cross, the power of catholic hierarchy, the riches of the catholic 
 clergy, and the splendour of the catholic church. You will find 
 the speeches of the catholic opponents, particularly the ministerial 
 declaimers, dream on in this manner; and you will find from the 
 publications of those speeches and of the Catholics, that the latter 
 had laid aside their prejudices, but that the ministers had not : and 
 one of the causes why those ministers alleged that the catholic 
 mind had not advanced, was, that their own mind had stood still ; 
 the state was the bigot, and the people the philosopher. The pro- 
 gress of the hum.an mind in the course of the last twenty-five years 
 has been prodigious in Ireland. I remember when there scarcely 
 appeared a publication in a newspaper of any degree of merit, 
 which was not traced to some person of note on the part of govern- 
 ment or the opposition ; but now a multitude of very powerful pub- 
 lications appear from authors entirely unknown, of profound and 
 spirited investigation. There was a time when all learning in 
 Europe was confined to tlie clergy ; it then advanced among the 
 higher orders of the laity, and now it has gone among the people ; 
 and when once the powers of intellect are possessed by the great 
 body of the nation, 'tis madness to hope to impose on that nation
 
 APPENDIX. 393 
 
 civil or religious oppression, particularly in those whose understand- 
 iDgs have been stationary, though their power and riches have been 
 progressive. The politics of the Castle, with the religious feuds of 
 Ireland, had occupied and engrossed their mind; the eye of that 
 mind, or their intellectual vision, had become, of course, subtle in- 
 deed, but extremely little : on the other hand, the politics of Eu- 
 rope and America had occupied the mind of the people, and there- 
 fore the mind of the people had become comprehensive ; and when 
 the former complained of the press, they complained of the supe- 
 riority of the popular understanding. It appeared to us that the 
 best remedy vras to raise the understanding of the great, by enlarg- 
 ing the sphere of its actions; viz. reforming the parliament. But 
 to return. The ministry, however, thought proper to persist in 
 hostility to the catholic body, on a false supposition of its bigotry : 
 the consequence of such an attempt was, that the great body of the 
 Catholics, I mean that part the most popular and energetic, disap- 
 pointed, suspected, reviled, and wearied, united with that other 
 great body of the reformers, and formed a Catholic, Presbyterian, 
 and Protestant league, for the freedom of the religion, and the free 
 and full representation of the people. Out of this league a new 
 political religion arose, superseding in political matter all influence 
 of priest and parson, and burying for ever theological discord in 
 the love of civil and political liberty. This is at present in all poli- 
 tical matters the Irish religion. What is the Irish religion? Un- 
 animity against despotism. Viewing the state of the country in 
 this light, it appeared to us that the unconstitutional influence of 
 tlie crown, and the proscription of the Catholics, were the funda- 
 mental causes of our discontent and jealousy : with these there ex- 
 isted other discontents, distinct from these causes; without these 
 causes insignificant, but with these causes creating great agitation 
 and disturbance. Two remedies occurred— coercion and concilia-
 
 394? APPENDIX. 
 
 tion : we opposed the former, and we proposed the latter. I will 
 trouble you with our reasons : we considered the system of coercion 
 would in the first instance destroy the liberty of the people, and in 
 the second instance would subvert the authority and powers of 
 •Government. Here I beg to recur to what I have just observed on 
 the necessity for those who administer a country, to advert to the 
 changes that take place in the temper and understanding of the 
 people. Unfortunately, the ministry provided for the purpose of 
 making the people quiet and contented, a system of laws and pro- 
 clamations which, had they been quiet before, would have rendered 
 them distracted. I need not repeat them ; we all know them ; we 
 had the barren office of giving fruitless opposition ; we saw a spirit 
 ' of reform had gone forth ; it had conquered in America ; it had 
 conquered in France ; both here and in England it existed, and 
 was chiefly nourished and propagated by the abuses of our govern- 
 ment. It appeared to us that the best way of starving that spirit, 
 was to remove its food : far otherwise the proposers of the plan of 
 coercion ; they thought it better to feed that spirit, and to cherish 
 the abuses and increase them ; they hoped to fortify their constitu- 
 tion against an epidemic distemper, by preserving uncured the old 
 gouts and rheumatisms, and a host of other disorders. The power 
 of limited monarchy was not to be preserved by constitutional 
 power, which is its natural ally, but by despotic power, which is its 
 natural death and dissolution. Instead of correcting the abuses of 
 the state, they invented laws which were themselves an abuse, and 
 proclamations which were an abuse also; and which greatly, though 
 silently, propagated the new principle. There are two ways by 
 which a new principle spreads ; one is by anus, and by martyrdom 
 the other. The Mahomedan religion was propagated by arms ; it 
 pleased Providence that the Christian religion should have been 
 propagated by the latter. See whether the unfortunate choice of
 
 APPENDIX. 395 
 
 our ministers has not given to the new principle the benefit of 
 both : they have fled before it abroad, and they have trampled on 
 it at home, and given it the double recommendation of conquest 
 and martyrdom. This consideration was one of my objections to 
 persist in the war with France on account of Brabant, and it is one 
 of my objections to persist in a war with the Irish on account of 
 venal boroughs. Had the government, instead of aggravating, 
 restrained abuses, they would have put the state at the head of a 
 spirit of reform, which they could no longer resist, and could only 
 hope to moderate ; it was to such a policy adopted by Queen Eli- 
 zabeth, that the Church of England owes principally what it re- 
 tains of power and splendour, preserved by the government of the 
 country who took the lead in the reformation ; but ours fell into a 
 different project, they armed cnp-ii-pie against a spirit which they 
 could not confine by arms abroad nor by executions at home ; and, 
 therefore, instead of being at the head of popular measures, they 
 ■were at the tail of them ; in the Catholic question, in the place 
 bill, in the pension bill, in every bill of a popular tendency, they 
 resisted at first, they yielded at last, reluctantly and imperfectly, 
 and then opposed, condemned, and betrayed the principle of their 
 own acquiescence ; they agreed to a place bill, for instance, and 
 then they multiplied places manifold. What is the bar bill, or the 
 bill that creates thirty new places for the gentlemen of the law ? 
 They agreed to the first Catholic bill, and then proscribed the per- 
 son of the Catholic, and oppose his freedom in corporations ; they 
 had before agreed to the establishment of the independency of the 
 Irish parliament, and then had created a multitude of officers to 
 make that independency a name. It is reported to have been said 
 by some of the ministers of England, that his majesty's reign has 
 been to Ireland a course of concession, and it was much a subject 
 of wonder that tlic people of Ireland should persist in their dissatis-
 
 396 APPENDIX. 
 
 faction ; the answer to those ministers is obvious — the concessions 
 ■were extorted from ministers by the perseverance of opposition, and 
 they were rendered abortive by the treachery of ministers. The 
 .recognition of our parliamentary rights has been rendered abortive 
 by unexampled exertions of bribery and corruption ; the freedom 
 of our trade by debt and war ; and the elective privileges of our 
 Catholics by a course of personal persecution and corporate in- 
 fluence ; and, on the whole, the benefit of constitutional laws by 
 the administration of an unconstitutional government. When the 
 ministers talk of their concessions to Ireland, do they know the 
 concessions of Ireland to them? Do they know the debt of the 
 war? Continue that rate of expense, and the English wars of the 
 next century will have the same effect as the English prohibition 
 of the last — they will annihilate the trade of Ireland. But to re- 
 turn to the administration. They relapsed into their violence when 
 they recovered from tlieir fears, and their system has been there- 
 fore occasionally violent and weak, never strong and uniform. It 
 is an observation of Lord Bacon, that the fall of one of the Roman 
 emperors was due not to his tyranny nor his relaxation, but to both, 
 and that the fluctuating system is ever fatal ; it is an observation of 
 the same, that the way to resist the progress of a new sect is to 
 correct the abuses of the old ones. Unhappily our ministers dif- 
 fered from Bacon ; their system was faithful to no one principle, 
 either of violence or concession. We objected that it could not 
 now resort to unqualified violence without incurring all the objec- 
 tions belonging to a policy of submission coupled with a policy of 
 violence, and that it could not hope to obtain the advantages ap- 
 pertaining to either. In pursuit of such a system the ministers 
 seemed to us to have lost not only their discretion but their tem- 
 per ; they seemed vexed with themselves for being angry ; they 
 seemed to become in a passion with themselves, because they had
 
 APPENDIX. 397 
 
 lost tlieir temper with the people; in its struggle with popular 
 rights, the state, like a furious wrestler, lost its hreath as well 
 as its dignity ; as if an angry father should lose his temper with 
 his child, in which case the old fool is the most incorrigible. 
 In the mean time the enemy seemed to understand our situation 
 perfectly well, and relied on our expenses for dissolving our credit, 
 and our intemperance for dissolving our authority ; and at the very 
 time when we were precipitating on such measures at home, we 
 were receiving the most melancholy communications from abroad ; 
 we saw the minister retreating from the enemy with as rapid a step 
 as he advanced upon the people, going back, and back, and back, 
 while the democratic principle in Europe was getting on and on, 
 like a mist at the heels of the countryman, small at ilrst and lowly, 
 but soon ascending to the hills and overcasting the hemisphere. 
 Like the government we wished to provide against this storm, like 
 the government we wish to disarm the people ; as the best means of 
 safety, we wished to disarm the people ; but it was by the only me- 
 thod by which a free people can be disarmed — we wished to disarm 
 the people of their grievances, and then their other arms, their less 
 dangerous arms, the bayonet and even the pike, would be retained 
 for no other use but the use of the government. A naked man oj>- 
 pressed by the state is an armed host. A few decent bishops sent 
 to the tower against law, produced the revolution. Mr Hampden, 
 with the four other innocent persons, arraigned by Charles I. for 
 high treason, produced the civil war : that grey-coated man or the 
 green man sent on board a tender, or detained in prison without 
 trial ; he, too, will have his political consequence. Sensible acts of 
 violence have an epidemic force ; they operate by sympathy, tlicy 
 possess the air, as it were, by certain tender influences, and spread 
 the kindred passion through the wliole of the community. No 
 wonder the difficulties have increased on the government. Sad ex-
 
 398 APrENDIX. 
 
 periment ! to blood the magistracy with the poor man's liberty, and 
 employ the rich, lilie a pack of government blood-hounds, to hunt 
 down the poor ! Acts of violence like these put an end to all law 
 as well as liberty, or the affectation and appearance of either. In 
 tlie course of the session we asked to what end all this ? and ac- 
 companied our question by stating the enfeebled resources of the 
 country. We had mentioned at the beginning that the debt of the 
 war had been about L. 5,000,000, we were told it was an error. I 
 wish it had been so ; but on examination that sum appeared some- 
 what about the debt of the war. And it will appear, if the present 
 loans are filled, that the debt of the war will be near L. 8,000,000. 
 We submitted the effects of the war on the resources of the country, 
 and here again it was said we were in error. I wish we had been 
 so ; but at what interest does the state borrow money ? — an inte- 
 rest which, between man and man, would be usury, and nearly 
 double the former rate. We mentioned the state of the revenue to 
 have declined ; again were we contradicted, but what was the fact ? 
 what business is now done on the quay ? We did not wish to re- 
 veal the arcana imperii, we stated nothing more than appeared from 
 the terms proposed in the Gazette, from the returns of your custom- 
 house, and the printed resolutions touching the state of your manu- 
 factures ; and we stated those public facts, not to damp the public 
 confidence in the defence of the country, but to abate a little of 
 that frantic confidence manifested in a determination, at the hazard 
 of her safety, to go on with a system of domestic coercion till the 
 minister should conquer the people — and of foreign war till the 
 same minister should achieve another conquest, at the risk of gene- 
 ral ruin till he should, sword in hand, recover Brabant. That 
 
 minister has found it a more pressing experiment to defend Cork 
 than to take Flanders, as the Emperor has found it a safer experi- 
 ment to abandon Flanders and Italy to save Vienna. We men-
 
 APPENDIX. 399 
 
 tioned those our objections to such folly then, and I repeat them 
 now, not to damp your zeal against a foreign enemy, but to confme 
 the zeal of srovernment to one enemy, and to deprecate a second 
 enemy-^our own people, and a civil war added to a foreign one. 
 Such was the system of coercion. To oppose a remedy is easy, to 
 propose one is difficult and anxious; it appeared to us that we 
 should fail in duty and in candour, if, when we resisted the project 
 of government, we did not submit a plan of our own — and the only 
 plan that appeared to us to promise peace or prosperity was conci- 
 liation ; we proposed, accordingly, the emancipation of the Catho- 
 lics, and a reform in the commons' house of parliament. To tlie 
 first it was objected, that such a measure was irreconcil cable with 
 the safety of the king or the connexion with England. To the 
 first objection we answered, that the capacities of three-fourths of 
 the people should not be made a personal compliment to his majes- 
 ty, and that the pretence for taking away those capacities should not 
 be the religion of his majesty's allies, of his present subjects of Ca- 
 nada, of his late subjects of Corsica, of a considerable part of his 
 fleet, and of a great part of his army ; that the principles that placed 
 his family on the throne were those of liberty; and that his Irish 
 subjects, if not convicted of felony, were entitled to the benefit of 
 those principles ; and that the Catholics have, in justice and reason, 
 at least as good a right to liberty as his majesty has to the crown. 
 We observed, that the only impediment to the Catholic claim, as 
 the law now stands, was the oath requiring the abjuration of the 
 worship of the Virgin Mary, and of the doctrine of the real pre- 
 sence ;' that to make these points, at such a time as this, matter of 
 alarm to the safety of the king, was to give an air of ridicule to the 
 serious calamities in which those his ministers had involved him ; 
 that such opinions, now abstracted from foreign politics, it was be- 
 yond the right or the power of the state to settle or punish ; that
 
 400 APPENDIX. 
 
 kings had no right to enter into the tabernacle of the humanmind, 
 and hang up there the images of their own orthodoxy ; that the 
 Catholics did not insist his majesty should be of their religion ; that 
 his majesty had no right to exact that the Catholics should be of 
 his; that we knew of no royal rule either for religion or mathema- 
 tics ; and indeed the distance between divine and human nature 
 being infinite, the proportion in that reference between the king 
 and the subject k lost, and therefore, in matters of religion, they 
 both are equally dark, and should be equally humble; and whea 
 courts or kings assume a dictation on that subject, they assume a 
 familiarity with the Almighty, which is excess of blasphemy as well 
 as of blindness. Our contemplation, the most profound, on divine 
 nature, can only lead us to one great conclusion, our own immea- 
 surab'e inanity; from whence we should learn, that we can never 
 serve God but in serving his creature, and to think we serve God 
 by a profusion of prayer, when we degrade and proscribe his crea- 
 ture and our fellow-creature, was to suppose heaven, like the court 
 of princes, a region of flattery, and that man can there procure a 
 holy connivance at bis inhumanity, on the personal application of 
 luxurious and complimentary devotion. Or, if the argument were 
 to descend from religious to moral study, surely, surely ministers 
 should have remembered that the Catholics had contributed greatly 
 to the expenses of the war, and had bled profusely therein : that 
 they themselves were much in debt to human nature, and should 
 not lose that one opportunity of paying a very small part of it, 
 merely by a restoration of loyal subjects to their own inheritance, 
 their liberty. We suggested such a step as a measure of policy as 
 well as justice, with a view to the strength and power of his ma- 
 jesty, who was most improperly made a bar to such a concession. 
 We suggested that his situation with regard to America, to Europe, 
 to his allies and enemies, was critical ; and tliat it was a mockery of
 
 APPENDIX. 401 
 
 that situation to suppose that the worship of the Virgin INIar}-, or the 
 doctrine of real presence, constituted any part of the royal difficulties; 
 that there was no spectre to disturb the royal imagination, but an 
 existing substance ; a gigantic form walked the earth at this moment 
 who smote crowns with a hundred hands, and opened for the se- 
 duction of their subjects a hundred arms — democracy ; and we im- 
 plored ministers against such an enemy, to ally and identify the 
 king with all his people, without distinction of religion, and not to 
 detach him from any part of them to make a miserable alliance 
 with priestcraft, which was a failing cause and a superannuated folly. 
 With regard to the danger offered to the connexion with England 
 from the emancipation of the Catholics, we observed that the argu- 
 ment was of a most dangerous and insulting nature, for it amount- 
 ed to a declaration that tlie privileges of a vast portion of a nadon 
 should be sacrificed to another country ; that it was not the old in- 
 ternal question, whether the privileges of one part of Ireland should 
 be sacrificed to the ambition of the other, but whether ' a vast de- 
 scription of the people of Ireland should be sacrificed to England ; 
 we observed that in this part of the argument we need not recur to 
 justice, we might rely on policy ; and we asked, was it the policy 
 of England, for the purity of Irish faith, to make experiments on 
 Irish allegiance? We did not wish to exaggerate, but were justi- 
 fied in making this supposition — suppose Ireland the seat of go- 
 vernment, and that for the better securing the safety of the king, 
 here resident, and for the connexion of Great Britain with Ireland, 
 that the Irish should incapacitate all the Protestants of England ? 
 The same affection which England, on that supposition, would af- 
 ford to the Irish, the same affection has she now a right to expect 
 from Ireland. When England had conquered France, possessed 
 America, guided tlio councils of Prussia, directed Holland, and in- 
 timidated Spain ; when she was the great western oracle to vvhiili 
 VOL. I. I) J
 
 402 APPENDIX. 
 
 the nations of the earth repaired, from whence to draw eternal ora- 
 cles of policy and freedom ; when her root extended from conti- 
 nent to continent, and the dew of the two hemispheres watered her 
 branches; then, indeed, we allowed with less danger, but never 
 with justice, she might have made sacrifices of the claims of the 
 Irish. I do not mean, we did not mean, to press a sense of the 
 change which has taken place in the power of England, further 
 than to prevent further changes more mortifying and decisive, and 
 to impress on Great Britain this important conviction, that as Ire- 
 land is necessary to her, so is complete and perfect liberty necessary 
 to Ireland, and that both islands must be drawn much closer to a 
 free constitution, that they may be drawn closer to one another. 
 The second part of our plan of conciliation was the reform of par- 
 liament. The object of the plan was to restore the House of Com- 
 mons to the people. If the plan do not accomplish that, it is not 
 the idea of the framers; but no plan could satisfy those persons 
 who wished to retain the credit of reformers and the influence of 
 boroughs ; no plan could satisfy those who complained when any 
 vestige of borough influence was continued, that the parliament was 
 not reformed, and when the vestiges were swept away, that the 
 constitution was demolished ; no plan could satisfy those who de- 
 sired that the boroughs should be destroyed and preserved, and 
 were willing to let the people sit in the House of Commons, provid- 
 ed the aristocracy sat in their lap. It is in favour of the plan sub- 
 mitted, that, without any communication whatever with the other 
 side of the water, it bears a strong and close resemblance to the 
 plan proposed in the parliament of Great Britain, and in that re- 
 semblance carries with it a presumption that it has a foundation in 
 common sense and common interest ; the objections to it, founded 
 on the presumed antiquity of the borough system, hardly ventured 
 to make their appearance ; examination into the subject had shewn
 
 APPENDIX. 403 
 
 that tlie greater part of the Irish boroughs were creations bv the 
 house of Stuart for the avowed purpose of modelling and subvert- 
 ing the parliamentary constitution of Ireland ; that these were un- 
 derstated when called abuses in the constitution, that tliey were 
 gross and monstrous violations, recent and wicked innovations, and 
 the fatal usurpations on the constitution, by kings whose family 
 lost the throne for crimes less deadly to freedom, and who in their 
 star chamber tyranny, in their court of high commission, in their 
 ship money, or in their dispensing power, did not commit an act so 
 diabolical in intention, so mortal in principle, or so radically sub- 
 versive of the fundamental rights of the realm, as the fabrication of 
 boroughs, which is the fabrication of a court parliament, and the 
 exclusion of a constitutional commons, and which is a subversion, 
 not of the fundamental laws, but of the constitutional lawgiver; 
 you banish that family for the other acts, and you retain that act 
 by which they have banished the commons, 
 
 " It was objected with more success, that the constitution of 
 boroughs, however in theory defective, has worked well in fact ; 
 but it appeared to us that this was an historic error — we stated in 
 answer to that objection, that the birth of the borough inundation 
 was the destruction of liberty and property — that James I. tlie king 
 who made that inundation, by that means destroyed the titles of 
 his Irish subjects to tlieir lands, without the least ceiemony— the 
 robbery of his liberty was immediately followed by the robbery of 
 bis property ; for, rely on it, the king that takes liberty will very 
 soon take away property— he will rob the subject of his liberty 
 and influence, and then he may plunder him of his property by 
 statute. There were at that time, the historian adds, inferior 
 grievances. What were they ? Martial law and extortion by the 
 soldiers, in levying the king's duties; — a criminal jurisdiction exer- 
 cised by the Castle chamber, and a judicial power by the council.
 
 4,04 APPENDIX. 
 
 These inferior and those superior grievances amounted to no law at 
 all. How could it happen, says the historian, that the king could 
 do all this with so small an army; seize the properties of the sub- 
 jects, and transport the inhabitants? I will presume to conjecture; 
 
 the king had another instrument, more subtle and more pliable 
 
 than the sword, and against the liberty of the subject more cold 
 and deadly, a court instrument, that murders freedom without the 
 mark of blood, palls itself in the covering of the constitution, and 
 in her own colours, and in her name, plants the dagger — a 
 borough parliament. Under this borough system, the reign of 
 James was bad, but the next was worse ; the grievances which 
 England complained of, under Charles the First, were committed 
 in Ireland also. Those measures, I mean, called the new coun- 
 cils ; they had been aggravated here by an attempt to confiscate the 
 province of Connaught. There is extant a correspondence on the 
 subject of Ireland, between the king and his deputy. Lord Strafford, 
 of a most criminal and disgusting nature : his majesty begins by 
 professing his general horrors of the constitution ; he proceeds to 
 acknowledge his particular injuries to the Irish ; he owned that he 
 had defrauded the Irish of their promised graces, and he expresses 
 his fears that they have a right, in justice, to ask what it was his in- 
 terest, as it appeared to be his determination to refuse. His deputy 
 — what does he do ? He exceeds his royal master in his zeal against 
 the pretensions of Ireland. A judicious court sycophant will often 
 flatter the court of St James, by Irish sacrifices, whether it is the 
 constitution, or the fair name of the country. He, the deputy, 
 had, said the historian, two great objects — one was to fleece the 
 people of Ireland, and the other was to cheat them — to get the 
 money, and to elude the graces. He succeeded — why ? Because 
 there was another — a third instrument, worse than himself — a 
 borough parliament: that borough parliament met — it voted six
 
 APPENDIX. 405 
 
 subsidies, and redressed nothing: — tliis is virtue and public spirit, 
 in comparison to what it did after. After committing these crimes, 
 for which the deputy justly lost his head — after having seized part 
 of the province of Connaught — after the inflicting martial law, mo- 
 nopolies^ raising an anny against law, and money to pay that army 
 against law — after fining and confining against law — the borough 
 parliament vote that deputy an extraordinary supply ; and in the 
 preamble of the act they pass on that deputy an extraordinary 
 panegyric, with such a thorough conviction of his iniquity and their 
 own, that they after impeach that very minister for those very acts, 
 and record a protestation against the record of their panegyric, to 
 give way to the meanness of another borough parliament, who, on 
 the return of his family, cancels the record of the protestation to 
 restore the force of the panegyric. Massacre, confusion, civil war, 
 religious fury, followed naturally and of course. Here you see 
 batched and matured the egg that produced the massacre, and all 
 that brood of mortal consequences. 
 
 " The principles of right were rooted out of the land by govern- 
 ment, and they were amazed at anarchy— the barriers against inun- 
 dation were removed by the government, and they were astonished 
 to be overwhelmed by a popular torrent — the prhiciples of robbery 
 were planted by the deputy, and the government were surprised at 
 the growth of popular pillage. Had the country been left to a 
 state of a barbarous nature, she could not have been so shattered 
 
 and convulsed as when thus reduced to a state of barbarous art 
 
 • 
 
 where the government had vitiated that parliamentary constitution 
 it professed to introduce, and had introduced without professing it, 
 influence, not civilization — had set one order of the nation in feud 
 against the other — had tainted the gentry with the itch of venality, 
 (there was bribery in those days as well as violence) and had given 
 them ideas of vice but not days of refinement. I pass over a bun-
 
 406 APPENDIX. 
 
 dred and thirty years, a horrid vacuum in your history of borough 
 parliaments, save only as it has been filled with four horrid images 
 in the four-fold proscription of the religion, trade, of the judicative 
 and legislative authority of the country, by the commercial restric- 
 tions of William, the penal laws of William and Anne, and the de- 
 claratory act of the 6th of George ; and I come to the boundary of 
 the gulf, where the constitution begins to stir and live in an octen- 
 nial bill, accompanied, however, with, and corrected by, a court 
 project of new parliamentary influence and degradation. This ob- 
 ject may be called a court plan for reforming borough parliaments ; 
 but Informing them not on the principle of popular representation, 
 but of a more complete and perfect exclusion and banishment of 
 the commons. The people had begun to form certain combina- 
 tions with the oligarchy, and, like weeds, began to grow a little 
 about the doors and courts of their own houses of parliament, and 
 like weeds it was thought proper to banish them ; and as govern- 
 ment had before resorted to the creation of boroughs, to overwhelm 
 the commons, so now they resorted to a new host of places and 
 pensions to overwhelm the oligarchy. This is the famous half mil. 
 lion, or the experiment of the castle, to secure the dependance of 
 parliament, and to prevent the formation of an Irish party against 
 the domination of a British cabinet. The court could not then, 
 like the first James and the first Charles, command to rise up a 
 new fabric of boroughs, like a real pandemonium, to constitute a 
 regal house of commons; it therefore engendered a young and 
 numerous family of places and pensions, to bribe and to buy, and 
 to split and shatter, and to corrupt the oligarchy. Thus were the 
 people once more excluded from the chance of influence in parlia- 
 ment, and, as it were, shouldered from the threshold of their own 
 house by a host of placemen and pensioners, who had left the cause 
 of the country to follow the fortunes of the aristocracy, and now
 
 APPENDIX. 107 
 
 left the aristocracy to follow the fortunes of the court, and then 
 voted new loans and new taxes to furnish wages for the double 
 apostasy. You had now but little to give up, and that little you 
 surrendered ; you gave your provision trade by an embargo of 76 
 to the contractors, and you surrendered, by new loans and taxes, 
 your revenues to the minister. You accompanied these sacrifices 
 with the unvarying felicitations of borough parliaments, on the vir- 
 tues of government, on the great and growing prosperity of your 
 country, and her commerce, which bring the poor progress of the 
 country, your borough history and that of your chief governors, ' a 
 continuation of rapine,' they have been wittily called, to the catas- 
 trophe of 79, which found your state a bankrupt, and your commu- 
 nity a beggar, and which induced parliament to declare that such 
 has been the working of your borough system, and such the sense 
 of that parliament respecting it, that nothing but a free trade could 
 save the country from impending ruin. I wish to speak with all 
 honour of the parliament at that moment, but must recollect the 
 circumstances of that moment. Why did parliament express itself 
 in that manner at that time, and demand its rights a short time 
 after? Because parliament was at those moments in contact with 
 the people, and it is the object of the reform that she should con- 
 tinue in contact with the people always, and with the minister 
 never, except the people should be in contact with him ; that par- 
 liament declared that nothing could save this country from im- 
 pending ruin, except a free trade ; but in declaring that, it declar- 
 ed much more ; it protested against these borough parliaments of 
 a century, who had acquiesced in the loss of a free trade, who had 
 suffered the country to be reduced to that state of impending ruin 
 for want of that free trade, and who had beheld the approaches of 
 that ruin with a profusion of thanks and a regular felicitation on 
 the growing prosperity and flourishing commerce of a ruined coun-
 
 4"08 APPENDIX. 
 
 try J and that parliament did, by necessary inference, declare that, 
 to save the country from returning to that state of ruin, it was ab- 
 solutely necessary to reform the state and model of those borough 
 parliaments, and therefore is an authority for a popular representa- 
 tion, as well as for a free trade : indeed, it not only proclaimed the 
 necessity, but constituted it ; for in a short time after it gave this 
 country a new political situation, wherein she ceased to be a pro- 
 vince, and became a nation; and of course it rendered those 
 borough parliaments, that were adequate to the management of a 
 province, absurd and inapplicaljle when that province became a na- 
 tion. A province must be governed with a view to the interest of 
 another country — a nation with a view to her own interest; a 
 borough parliament was therefore not only competent to govern a 
 province, but the only kind of parliament fit for the degradation of 
 such a service, and for that very reason it was the most unfit and 
 inadmissible instrument in the government of a nation ; for the 
 principle of its birth being in that case opposed to the principle 
 of its duty — the principle of its birth being court intrigue, with 
 touched and tainted contractors, and the principle of its duty 
 being the defence of the nation against such intrigue and such 
 contractor — the nature of parliament being opposed to its duty» 
 or its duty to its parent being in contradiction with its duty to 
 its country — it follows that the nation in such a case must be 
 reprovincialized, and the independency supposed to have been 
 then obtained, at that period would have been only a transfer 
 of dependency from the parliament of Great Britain to the court 
 of St James's, in covin and in couple with the borough brokers 
 of Ireland; therefore the independency of your parliament, 
 and the full and free representation of your people, are terms 
 synonymous and commensurate. In opposition to this history, and 
 these arguments submitted in difl'erent shapes to the house, in sup.
 
 APPENDIX. 409 
 
 port of parliamentary reform, it was replied, that the borough 
 constitution had worked well at least since 1782 — for before, no 
 man will contend for it — and that the country had greatly advanced 
 in commerce and in tillage ; and indeed, as far as the ploughman 
 and the weaver are concerned, too much cannot be said to justify, 
 against every charge of sloth, the character of tlie Irishman, and to 
 vindicate against a vulgar error the native energy of a strong, hardy, 
 bold, brave, laborious, warm-hearted, and faithful race of men. 
 Eut as far as that boast goes to political measures, we cannot so 
 well express our detestation of them as by recital ; the propositions 
 — the new taxes without the trade — the new debt, notwithstandino- 
 
 o 
 
 the new taxes — the sale of the peerage — the surrender of the East 
 India trade for the re-export trade — the refusal of the re-export 
 trade, without such barter — the inequality of the channel trade, and 
 the present provincial tariff suffered still to obtain between the two 
 countries — 8,000,000/. of loan voted on account of the war, with- 
 out commercial compensation, liberality, or equality — the increase 
 of offices, for the professed purposes of procuring a majority — ano- 
 ther increase of offices since the place bill — the bar bill — the con- 
 vention bill — the gunpowder bill — the indemnity bill — the second 
 indemnity bill — the insurrection bill — the suspension of the habeas 
 corpus — General Lake's proclamation by order of government — 
 the approbation afforded to that proclamation— the subsequent pro- 
 clamation of government, more military and decisive — the order to 
 the military to act without waiting for the civil power — the im- 
 prisonment of the middle orders without law — the detaining them 
 in prison without bringing them to trial — the transporting them 
 without law — burning their houses— burning their villages — mur- 
 dering them ; crimes, many of which are public, and many com- 
 mitted which are concealed by the suppression of a htic press by 
 military force ; the preventing the legal meetings of counties to pc-
 
 410 APPENDIX. 
 
 tition his majesty, by orders acknowledged to be given to the mili- 
 tary to disperse them ; subverting the subject's right to petition ; 
 and, finally, the introduction of practices not only unknown to law, 
 but unknown to civilized and christian countries. Such has been 
 the working of the borough system ; nor could such measures have 
 taken place but for that system. Such practices, however, have in 
 part been defended as acts of power necessary to prevent insurrec- 
 tion, and punish conspiracy. But it appeared to us that in these 
 practices government was combating eSects, not causes ; and that 
 those practices increase these causes, and therefore will increase 
 those effects ; that admitting every charge of conspiracy and dis- 
 affection in its fullest extent — that conspiracy and disaffection are 
 only effects of that great fundamental cause — that parent conspiracy 
 formed some years ago, to procure by corruption despotic power. 
 That is the cause, and that cause acts according to the reception of 
 its matter, and the tempers and constitutions to which it applies ; 
 and therefore produces on some men disloyalty, in some republi- 
 canism, in some the spirit of reform ; but in all, deep, great, and 
 growing discontent. That is the cause and the poison which has 
 made some men jnad, and all men sick; and though the govern- 
 ment may not be able to restore reason to the mad, or loyalty to 
 the republican, yet if they mean to restore health to the sick, if 
 they mean to restore content and confidence to all, to most, or to 
 any considerable portion of the people, they must take away the 
 poison, they must remove the cause, they must reform the parlia- 
 ment. They have told us at some times, and at other times they 
 have said the contrary, that it is a spirit of plunder, not politics, 
 that is abroad ; idle talk — whatever be the crime of the present 
 spirit, it is not the crime of theft— if so, it were easily put down ; 
 no, it is a political, not a predatory spirit ; it is the spirit of politi- 
 cal reformation, carried to different degrees— to liberty in some in-
 
 APPENDIX. 411 
 
 stances, to ambition in others, and to power in others. And even 
 in these'cases, where charged to be carried to confiscation, it is evi- 
 dent from tlie charge itself that confiscation looks to political ven- 
 geance, not private plunder; and therefore the best way of laying 
 that spirit, of whatever designs or intents, is to lay the pre-existing 
 spirit of unlawful power and unconstitutional influence that haa 
 frighted the people from parliament, and has called to our world 
 that other potent and uncircumscribed apparition. The way to 
 defend your property is to defend your liberty ; and the best metliod 
 to secure your house against a defender, is to secure the Com- 
 mons' House against a minister. ' There was ambition, there 
 was sedition, there was violence, mixing in the public cause,' 
 said Lord Chatham to Mr Flood, in a private conversation, as he 
 told me, on the civil war between Charles I. and his people. * lliere 
 was,' said he, ' ambition, there was sedition, there was violence ; 
 but no man will persuade me that it was not the cause of liberty on 
 one side, and tyranny on the other.' So here there may be con- 
 spiracy, there may be republicanism, there may be a spirit of plunder 
 mixing in the public cause ; but it is a public cause, and let no man 
 persuade you that it is not the cause of liberty on one side and 
 tyranny on the other. The historian of these melancholy and 
 alarming times, censuring perhaps both the minister and the oppo- 
 sition, and censuring us more for our relaxation than violence, will, 
 if a candid man, close the sad account by observing, ' tliat on the 
 whole, the cause of the Irish distraction of 97 was the conduct of 
 the servants of government, endeavouring to establish, by unlimit- 
 ed bribery, absolute power ; that the system of coercion was a ne- 
 cessary consequence, and part of the system of corruption ; and that 
 the two systems, in their success, would have established a ruthless 
 and horrid tyranny, tremendous and intolerable, imposed on the 
 senate by influence, and the people by arms.' Agaiubt such ex-
 
 413 APPENDIX. 
 
 cess of degradation, against any excess whatsoever, we moved the 
 middle, and, as we thought, the composing and the salutary mea- 
 sure — a reform of parliament, ^vhich should give a. constitution to 
 the people — and the Catholic emancipation, which should give a 
 people to the constitution. We supported that measure by the ar- 
 guments herein advanced, and we defended ourselves by such, 
 against a deluge of abuse conveyed in the public prints against 
 us on account of that measure ; and I re-state those arguments, 
 that however the majority of the House of Commons might have 
 been affected, your understanding may not be carried away by 
 such a torrent of invective. We urged those considerations j we 
 might have added, in our defence, the dangers of invasion and in- 
 surrection, panics most likely to incline the minister to concur in 
 such a measure, which measure seems to be our best, I might say 
 our only, defence against those dangers and those panics: we 
 might have added considerations of the immense expense atten- 
 dant on the working, as it is called, of this borough constitu- 
 tion ; which expense may be called the prodigality of misrepre- 
 sentation, or the huge and gigantic profusion which the people 
 supply for turning themselves out of parliament. It is well 
 known that the price of boroughs is from 1 4 to 1 6,000^. and has 
 in the course of not many years increased one-third : a proof at 
 once of the extravagance and audacity of this abuse, which thus 
 looks to immortality, and proceeds unawed by the times, and unin- 
 structed by example ; and, in moments which are held alarming, 
 entertains no fear, conceives no panic, and feels no remorse, which 
 prevents the chapman and dealer to go on at any risk with his vil- 
 lanous little barter in the very rockings and frownings of the ele- 
 ments, and makes him tremble indeed at liberty, but not at crimes. 
 ' Suspend the habeas corpus act — take away the poor man— send 
 the reformer to Newgate— imprison the North j but for the trade of
 
 APPENDIX. 4-13 
 
 parliament, for tlie I)oroiigh-brokcr of that trade, do not aflecl liim : 
 give him a gunpowder act, give him a convention bill, give liim 
 an insurrection bill, give him an indemnity bill, and, having satu- 
 rated him with the liberty of his country, give him all tlie plunder 
 of the state.' Such is the practical language of that great noim of 
 multitude — the borough- broker, demurring on the troubles of the 
 times, which he himself has principally caused, and lying at the 
 door of a secretary full of sores and exactions. This sum I speak 
 of, this 14 or 16,000^. must ultimately be paid by you: it is this 
 increase of the price of boroughs which has produced the increase 
 of the expense of your establishments, and this increase of the ex- 
 pense of your establishment which has produced this increase for 
 the price of your boroughs : they operate alternately like cause and 
 effect, and have within themselves the double principle of rapid 
 ruin ; so that the people pay their members as formerly, but pay 
 them more, and pay tliem for representing others, not themselves, 
 and giving the public purse, full and open, to the minister, and 
 rendering it back empty to the people. Oh, unthrifty people ! who 
 ever surrendered tliat inTaluable right of paying your own repre- 
 sentatives ; rely on it, the people must be the prey if they are not 
 the paymasters. To this public expense we are to add the mon- 
 strous and bankrupt waste of private property, becoming now so 
 great that honest men cannot in any number afford to come into 
 parliament; the expense amounts to a child's portion, and tliat 
 child must be wronged, or the father sold or excluded. Thus, in 
 the borough constitution, is private virtue and public set at vari- 
 ance, and men must renounce the service of Uieir country or tiie 
 interest of their family ; from this evil, the loss of private fortune, 
 a much greater loss is likely hereafter to take place, the loss 
 of talent in the public service; for this great expense must in the 
 end work out of parliament all unstipeiuliary talent that acts for
 
 414- APPENDIX. 
 
 the people, and supply it by stipendiary talent that acts against 
 them. Wliat man of small fortune, what man of great fortune, can 
 now afford to come into the House of Commons, or sustain the ex- 
 pense of a seat in parliament, or of a contested election? And 
 what open place, except in a very few instances, (the city is one of 
 them), where the electors return without cost to their representa- 
 tives ? I know some who have great talents, and have exercised 
 them in the public service, are disposed to decline situations, to the 
 honest individual so expensive, and to the public now so unprofita- 
 ble. To this I am to add a greater evil than those already stated, 
 the expenditure of morals. What shall we say for the morals of a 
 country, how many years purchase would you give for her virtue, 
 whose ministry founded its authority on moral depravity, and 
 formed a league and covenant with an oligarchy to transfer for 
 hire, virtually and substantially, the powers of legislation to tlie 
 cabinet of another kingdom? We inveigh against other combina- 
 tions; what sort of a combination is this? This, I know not by 
 what name to approach it, shoots its virus into the heart and mar- 
 row of the higher orders oV the country. ' Make your people 
 honest,' says the court — ' make your court honest,' say the people. 
 It is the higher classes that introduce corruption ; thieving may be 
 learned from poverty, but corruption is learned from riches ; it is a 
 venal court that makes a venal country j that vice descends from 
 above ; the peasant does not go to the Castle for the bribe, but the 
 Castle candidate goes to the peasant, and the Castle candidate offers 
 the bribe to the peasant, because he expects in a much greater bribe 
 to be repaid by the minister. Thus things go on ; it is impossible 
 they can last. The trade of parliament ruins every thing ; your 
 ministers rested their authority entirely on that trade, till now they 
 call in the aid of military power to enforce corruption by the sword. 
 The laws did, in my judgment, afford the crown sufficient power
 
 APPENDIX. 415 
 
 to administer the country, and preserve the connexion with Great 
 Britain ; but our ministers have despised tlic ordinary tract, and 
 plain, obvious, legitimate, and vulgar bonds between the king and 
 the subject ; they have resorted to the guinea and the gallows, as 
 to the only true and faithful friends of government, and try to hang 
 where they cannot corrupt ; they have extended the venal sti- 
 pendiary principle to all constituted authorities ; they have given 
 the taint to the grave corporator as well as the senator, and have 
 gone into the halls and streets to communicate the evil to the mid- 
 dling and orderly part of the society; they have attempted the in- 
 dependency of the bar. I have great objections to the bar bill, 
 and my objections are great in proportion to my regards for the 
 profession, whose signal services to the cause of liberty must prove 
 to every man's conviction, how valuable the acquisition, and how 
 inestimable the loss of that profound and acute profession must 
 be to the cause of a country such as tliis was formerly, where 
 the rule of government was the law of the land. We have 
 heard of complaints against systems of disorganization. What 
 is ^is system? Is not the corruption of organized bodies their 
 dissolution? Is not their perversion %vorse than their dissolu- 
 tion ? What shall we say of the attempts of ministers on sherifls, 
 and the appointment of tliat magistrate, with a view to parlia- 
 mentary influence only, and to the prevention of legal aggregate 
 meetings, and the suppression of the public sentiment. These 
 things must have an end ; tliis disorganization of constituted au- 
 thorities by court influence must have an end. I am not super- 
 stitious ; but I know that states, like individuals, are punished ; it 
 is to prevent their punishment we essayed their reformation ; they 
 are punished collectively, and they are punished slowly, but tliey 
 are [)unished ; where tlic people are generally or universally cor- 
 rupt, the society comes to a state of dissolution ; where that cor-
 
 416 APPENDIX. 
 
 riiption is confined to those who administer the counUy, that power 
 must come to a state of dissolution ; but in order to prevent the 
 society from partaking of that corruption, and by consequence of 
 that dissolution, it is necessary that the power that administers the 
 country should be brought speedily and radically to a state of re- 
 formation. The best systems are not immortal ; — are the worst ? 
 Is the trade of parliament immortal? Have the best systems pe- 
 rished ? And shall this be impassable and everlasting, infinite in 
 its duration, as it is unbounded in its profligacy ? What was the 
 case of Carthage, of Rome, and of the court of France ? What is 
 the case of the court of England ?. — Sitting under the stroke of 
 justice for the American war, paying pains and penalties in aug- 
 mented burdens and diminished glory; that influence which has 
 depressed her liberty has destroyed her energy, and rendered her 
 as unfit to preserve her empire as her freedom. As long as the 
 battle was between the court and the constitution, the former was 
 perfectly equal to subdue her own people ; but when she was to 
 combat another people, she was unequal to the task, and for the 
 very reason, because she had seduced and debased her own. The 
 corruption of the court has rendered England vincible, and has 
 endued her, in her present state of national degradation, with an 
 insensibility of glory, the result and evidence of mental degene- 
 racy. I remember to have heard Lord Chatham, in one of his 
 speeches on the Middlesex election, observe, that in his ministry 
 the object of the court of England was the conquest of the French, 
 and that now it was tlie conquest of Mr Wilkes. The pursuing 
 such like conquests as those over Mr Wilkes, has enabled the 
 French to establish a conquest over the English. The king who 
 is advised to conquer the liberty of his subjects, prepares those 
 subjects for a foreign yoke. The Romans were conquered at 
 Cannte, first by ^'arro, and afterwards by Hannibal. The Eng-
 
 APPENDIX. 417 
 
 Ksli liave been conquered, first by the minister, and afterwards by 
 ihe French. Those Romans were finally conquered by the bar- 
 barians of the north, because they had been previously conquered 
 by the princes of the empire; and then the half-armed savage, 
 \\ ith the pike and the pole, came down on the frontiers, and dis- 
 posed of the masters of the world as of the stock of tlie land : the 
 gouty stock of the rich, and the mute stock of the people. 
 
 " It is now sixty years since the adoption of the project to sup- 
 ply in corruption what the chief magistrate lost in prerogative — 
 the loss of thirteen provinces — of L. 120,000,000; to lose these 
 provinces, the loss of our station in Europe, the loss of 150 millions, 
 — to lose that station, to place the crown of England as low in 
 Europe as in America, and to put France at the head of Europe 
 instead of Great Britain, while her people crouch under a load of 
 debt and taxes, without an empire to console, or a constitution to 
 cover them, has been the working of that project : it has worked so 
 well as to have worked the people out of their liberty, and his ma- 
 jesty out of his empire ; to leave him as little authority in Europe 
 as his people in parliament ; and to put the king at the feet of 
 France, as the people are put at the feet of the king : Public credit 
 has also fallen a victim to this its success, its last great conquest 
 after liberty and empire. In this rapid decline no one minister has 
 been punished or even questioned ; and an empire and a constitu- 
 tion have been lost without one penal example ; and in a war un- 
 paralleled in expense and disgrace, and attended with the grossest 
 and rankest errors, closing the account of blood with proclamations 
 of insolvency, no murmur from the parliament of either countries 
 
 no murmur. Far from inquiry or complaint, confidence has 
 
 uniformly attended defeat and dishonour. The minister's majo- 
 rities are become as numerous as his disgraces ; and so gigantic 
 have been his encroachments on the independency of the constitu- 
 
 VOL. I. EC
 
 418 APPENDIX. 
 
 tlon, that they can only be matched by the gigantic encroachment 
 of the enemy on the empire. In short, so perfectly do the people 
 appear to be driven out of all footing in the constitution, that when 
 his majesty is driven out of almost all footing in Europe, and a 
 question is made by the people, whether the ministers of these dis- 
 graces and dishonours shall be dismissed, they have their majority 
 at hand to support them. Against this inundation of evil we in- 
 terposed reform ; we were convinced of its necessity from the con- 
 sideration of corruption at home ; we were confirmed in that con- 
 viction from the consideration of revolutions abroad. We saw the 
 regal power of France destroyed by debts, by expense, and by 
 abuses; we saw the nobility interpose for those abuses only to 
 encumber the throne with their ruins, and to add revolution of pro- 
 perty to revolution of government; we saw in the American revo- 
 lution that a people determined to be free cannot be enslaved ; that 
 British government was not equal to the task, even in plenitude of 
 empire, supported by the different governments of the provinces, 
 and by the sad apostasy of the hapless loyalist : that loyalist is a 
 lesson to the rich and great to stand by their country in all situa- 
 tions; and that in a contest with a remote court, the first post of 
 safety is to stand by the country, and the second post of safety is to 
 stand by the country, and the third post of safety is to stand by the 
 country ; in that American contest we saw that reform, which had 
 been born in England and banished to America, advanced like the 
 shepherd lad in holy writ, and ovexthrew Goliath. He returned 
 riding on the wave of the Atlantic, and his spirit moved on the 
 waters of Europe. The royal ship of France went down — the 
 British man of war labours — your vessel is affected — ' throw your 
 people overboard,' say your ministers, ' and ballast with your abuses' 
 — ' throw your abuses overboard,' we said, ' and ballast with your 
 people.' We recollected thcKe islands were formerly placed in a
 
 APPENDIX. 4.19 
 
 sea of despotism ; we saw they were now two kingdoms in a re- 
 publican ocean, situated between two great revolutions, with a cer- 
 tainty of being influenced more or less by one or by botli. We asked 
 ourselves, was it possible that the American revolution could have 
 had such effects ou France, and that the American and the French 
 revolutions would have no effect on these countries? The ques- 
 tions that afiect the world are decided on the theatre of tlie world. 
 The great question of popular liberty was fought on the great rivers 
 of Europe and America. It remained to moderate what we could 
 not govern : and what method so safe to moderate popular power 
 as by limited monarchy? — and what method remains to limit the 
 monarchy of these kingdoms (it has now no limits) as by reforming 
 parliament? What method, I say, to prevent a revolution but a 
 reformation? — and what is that i-eforraation of parliament but the 
 restoration to the people of self-legislation, without which there is 
 no liberty, as without reforan no self- legislation ?— So we reasoned. 
 The government of a country may be placed in the hands of one 
 man, and that one man may reside in another kingdom, and yet 
 the people may be free and satisfied ; but to have the legislature of 
 the country, or, what is the same thing, tlie influencing and direct- 
 ing spirit of the legislature placed out of the country — to have not 
 only the king but the legislature an absentee — to have not only the 
 head but the heart disposed of in another country — such a condi- 
 tion may be a disguised, but it is unqualified and perfect despotism. 
 Self-legislation is life, and has been fought for as for being. It 
 was that principle that called forth resistance to the house of Stuart, 
 and baptized witli royalty the house of Hanover, when the people 
 stood sponsors for their allegiance to the liberty of the subjects j for 
 kings are but satellites, and your freedom is the luminary Uiat has 
 called them to the skies. It was with a view tliercforc to restore 
 liberty, and with a view also to secure and immortalize royalty, by
 
 420 APPENDIX. 
 
 restoring to the people self-legislation, we proposed reform; — a 
 principle of attraction about which the king and people would spin 
 on quietly and insensibly in regular movements, and in a system 
 common to them both. ' No, no, no ; the half million, said the 
 minister, that is my principle of attraction. Among the rich I send 
 my half million, and I dispatch my coercion among the people.' 
 His devil went forth — he destroyed liberty and property — he con- 
 sumed the press — he burned houses and villages — he murdered and 
 he failed. ' Recall your murderer,' we said, ' and in his place dis- 
 patch our messenger — try conciliation. You have declared you 
 wish the people should rebel, to which we answer — God forbid ! 
 rather let them weary the royal ear with petitions, and let the dove 
 be again sent to the king; it may bring back the olive. And as 
 to you, thou mad minister, who pour in regiment after regiment 
 to dragoon the Irish, because you have forfeited their affections, 
 we beseech, we supplicate, we admonish, reconcile the people; 
 combat revolution by reform, let blood be your last experiment. 
 Combat the spirit of democracy by the spirit of liberty ; the wild 
 spirit of democratic liberty by the regulated spirit of organized 
 liberty, such as may be found in a limited monarchy with a free 
 parliament. ' But how accomplish that but by reforming the pre- 
 sent parliament, whose narrow and contracted formation, in both 
 countries, excludes popular representation, i.e. excludes self-legisla- 
 tion, i. e. excludes liberty, and whose fatal compliances, the result 
 of that defective representation, have caused, or countenanced, or 
 sanctioned, or suffered for a course of years, a succession of mea- 
 sures which have collected upon us such an accumulation of cala- 
 mity ; and which have finally, at an immense expense, and through 
 a sea of blood, stranded these kingdoms on a solitary shore, naked 
 of empire, naked of liberty, and naked of innocence, to ponder on
 
 APPENDIX. 421 
 
 an abyss which has swallowed up one part of their fortunes, and 
 yawns for the remainder. 
 
 " May the kingly power that forms one estate in our constitution 
 continue for ever; but let it be as it professes to be, and as by the 
 principles and laws of these countries it should be, one estate only, 
 and not a power constituting one estate, creating another, and in- 
 fluencing a third. 
 
 " May the parliamentary constitution prosper ; but let it be an 
 operative, independent, and integral part of the constitution, advis- 
 ing, confining, and sometimes directing the kingly power. 
 
 " May the House of Commons flourish ; but let the people be the 
 sole author of its existence, as they should be the great object of its 
 care. 
 
 " May the connexion with Great Britain continue ; but let the 
 result of that connexion be the perfect freedom, in the fairest and 
 fullest sense, of all descriptions of men, without distinction of reli- 
 gion. 
 
 " To this purpose we spoke ; and, speaking this to no puipose, 
 withdrew. It now remains to add tliis supplication : — However it 
 may please the Almighty to dispose of princes or of parliaments, 
 may the liberties of the people be iiimortal ! 
 
 " Henry Grattan." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 IVinted by Walker & CJriig, 
 Kdinburgli.
 
 9
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 
 discharge-url 
 
 f', f>i 
 
 . !h7 
 
 iR iAY0?J990 
 
 Form L-9-15m-7,'32 

 
 3 1158 00392 3413 '^^ 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 illi'l' 
 
 llllllll' 
 
 AA 000 394 052 5 
 
 Or^IVJT??^ 
 
 " < 
 
 TirORNiA 
 
 II BRAKY