University of Virginia Library

5. CHAP. V.

Byron.

The doctor being called away on some business,
Edward returned to the inn where his servant
staid. Here he found O'Halloran and the stranger
who had some hours before taken him aside on the
street. They were sitting, one at each end of a table,
in an angle of a tolerably large room, which, like
every other in the house at that juncture, was quite
full of people enjoying the convivial cup with great
noise and good humour. Edward observed that his
friend and the stranger were the two most silent people
in the room, and he was surprised to find that
O'Halloran, although he was evidently on an intimate
footing with the stranger, never named him.
The latter was wrapped in a great coat, booted
and spurred, and held in his hand a huge horseman's
whip, heavily loaded with lead. He appeared
to be about forty years of age, slightly
pockpitted, very muscular, and broad shouldered,
fully five feet ten inches high, with small gray
eyes and heavy eyebrows. There was something
very daring and at the same time very gloomy in
his countenance. He sat with his back to the wall
seemingly abstracted in deep meditation, with his

hat drawn forward over his face, so as partly to
conceal it. O'Halloran appeared also to be rather
in a thoughtful mood, although there was something
of satisfaction visible in his countenance.

He was proposing to Edward to return home,
when the attention of the company was attracted
by the arrival of two dragoons at the door of the
inn, with intelligence of an alarming nature from
Belfast.

They gave an account of the assassination of one
M`Bride, an informer, which had taken place in
that town, the preceding evening, by means, it was
conjectured, of an air-gun, no report having been
heard, although the deceased was shot dead on the
spot. They produced some printed handbills describing
the persons of the supposed perpetrators,
and offering a reward of five hundred pounds, for
the apprehension of each. They said, that parties
of the military had been dispatched in all directions,
in search of them, and that they had come on the
northern route for that purpose.

The whole Inn now became a scene of confusion,
occasioned by the multitude rushing in to obtain
particular information of the affair. This confusion
continued until the arrival of George M`Claverty,
Esq. the principal acting magistrate of the neighbourhood.
He stationed some soldiers to guard the
doors, until he should examine every suspicious
person in the house, and compare him with the descriptions
in the hand-bills.

The stranger had disappeared on the first arrival
of the horsemen. Edward, therefore, was almost
the only person in the house totally unknown to the
magistrate. He was accordingly very particular
in scrutinizing him. The first description was read.
“Five feet ten inches”—that was nearly Edward's
height—“Firm made and very muscular,” he was
the former but not the latter. Still so far it might

do—“Slightly pock-pitted”—Edward had only one
or two traces of the small-pox.—“Full-chested”—
he was portly enough in his appearance. All this
might answer.—“Forty years of age”—Here the
description was totally out. Edward did not appear
to be much above twenty.—“Reddish, straight
hair”—Here the application altogether failed. Edward's
hair was black, and somewhat curled.

“Well!” said the magistrate, “let us see the other
description.”—“Five feet high”—“That wont do.”
—“Stoop shouldered”—“That wont do either.
—Young man, what is your name?”

“Middleton, sir.”

“Where do you come from?”

“From the neighbourhood of Dublin.”

“A damned seditious neighbourhood! What is
your business in the North?”

“Curiosity, sir.”

“A damned suspicious employment! Is there
any one here who knows you?”

“Mr. O'Halloran, sir.”

“A damned suspicious—I was going to say seditious
acquaintance—Mr. O'Halloran, I beg your
pardon. Although as yet we have no information
against you sufficient to warrant your committal,
we have heard enough to render you suspected. I
am sorry for it, as I know you are, in other respects,
a worthy enough character.”

“I thank you,” said O'Halloran, “for your favorable
opinion. As to this gentleman, if my report
in his behalf will not be taken, perhaps that of
Doctor Farrell will.”

“If Doctor Farrel says that he is a true man,”
replied the magistrate, “I will immediately crack
a bottle of wine with him to his majesty's health,
and you will join us, I hope, Mr. O'Halloran. The
king has not a better subject in his dominions than
the Doctor.”

The Doctor soon made his appearance, and
having declared his opinion in favour of Edward's
loyalty, the wine was introduced by the magistrate's
order. Edward immediately filled a glass
to the king's health, and drinking it started to his
feet.

“Mr. M`Claverty,” said he, “you are an entire
stranger to me, and I now find you on important
official duty, enquiring after the perpetrators of a
shocking murder. These circumstances amply excuse
if they do not quite justify the manner in
which you have accosted me. Were it otherwise,
no man with impunity should have made insinuations
of my being either an assassin or a rebel. I
will not obstruct you in the doing of your duty, nor
take offence at being exposed to an examination to
which my being a stranger under the present circumstances,
rendered me sufficiently liable. If you
have done with your interrogatories, however, I
shall now, if Mr. O'Halloran accompanies me, withdraw.
Should you want me at any time within the
space of eight days, you shall find me either at this
inn or at my friend's castle.”

He then retired with O'Halloran, and immediately
ordered out their horses. While they were getting
ready, Tom Mullins took Edward aside, with
a face of great importance.

“Master,” said he, “I want to ask your honour,
would it be right to be made a croppy? Here is a
very good friend of mine, they call Tom Darragh,
who says it will make a man of me; and that every
true Irishman ought to be united. By Jasus, said
l, I am an Irishman, every drop of my blood; but
if my master, who knows every thing better than I
do—which you know you do, your honour—says I
shouldn't, then I think I may still belong to my own
country without being united.”

“Tom!” said Edward, “I desire you not to converse

with any of the people you suspect to be united,
especially if they attempt to seduce you into
their confederacy. It would be next thing to becoming
a rebel to join them.”

“And haven't you been put up, master?”

“Mullins,” demanded Edward rather angrily,
“has any one had the audacity to tell you so?”

“Why, sure, sir, didn't Darragh himself, who
says he knows all about these matters, tell me so
not two hours ago. He said he could swear that
the old gentleman you came here with had done
it. Well, said I, if you can swear that, I'll be put
up too. So we got a pint of whiskey, and when
we had drunk a couple of rounds to old Ireland
and St. Patrick, he went away to get a bible, and
was bidding me stand on my feet to take the oath,
when the horsemen came, and we both ran to the
door to see what the crowd meant.”

“So you have not yet taken the oath?” said
Edward.

“No, sir; and it just came into my head when I
saw you here that I would ask your honour about it,
for I thought that if you were up yourself you
would know whether there was any good in it.”

“I am not up, as you call it,” said Edward. “I
am no United Irishman; and, hear me, Tom, the
moment I know you to be one, I shall dismiss you
from my service.”

“Arrah, master, don't be angry; for if it displeases
you, I wont take the oath for one of them.”

After a few more cautions on the subject, and
also with regard to secrecy concerning himself,
Edward left Tom, and set off with O'Halloran for
the castle. He was anxious to hasten his friend's
departure from the town, lest his obnoxious politics,
and his imprudent warmth, might betray him into
some difficulties. On their way, they called at the
post office, and received the newspapers, which

had just arrived. They then rode on in silence,
until they were nearly a mile from town, when
Edward observed, that the market scenes were
very amusing; but that, in this instance, any satisfaction
he had experienced was more than counterbalanced
by the unpleasant intelligence of the
horrible murder that had been committed in Belfast.

“Sir!” said O'Halloran, “killing for self preservation
is surely no murder; and it was certainly
meritorious to destroy a traitor whose longer existence
would have been the destruction of hundreds.”

“No man can plead self-defence,” replied Edward,
“unless he be personally attacked, which
does not appear to have been the case with the
perpetrators of this action; and deliberate assassination,
in cold blood, even when the most abandoned
and dangerous character is the victim, carries
with it something so abhorrent to my feelings,
and so contrary to all my ideas of morality, that I
do not see how it can be justified, even on the supposition
of it being intended to prevent occurrences
by which others might eventually suffer.”

“Your laws,” said O'Halloran, “may acknowledge
the propriety of self-defence only in repelling
a personal attack; but your laws in this, as in
many other cases are erroneous guides by which
to estimate the morality or immorality of an action.
Nature directs us better. She tells us that,
by every means in our power, we should frustrate
the machinations of our enemies and prevent impending
evils from falling upon us by the destruction,
either publicly or privately, of those who
would inflict them.”

“The establishment of such a doctrine,” replied
Edward, “as the propriety of privately destroying
our enemies, would abolish all security of personal

safety, which is one of the chief advantages enjoyed
from governments and laws. Each individual
would be constituted the sole judge of whether he
is threatened with sufficient danger to warrant the
destruction of his neighbour, and malice or interest
would seldom fail to aggravate the slightest injury
into a sanction for murder. Hence the flood-gates
of all the malignant passions that generate perpetual
strife and blood-shed, would be opened upon
society.”

At this moment the stranger who had engrossed so
much of O'Halloran's company during the day, galloped
down a lane from a farm-house, and joined
them on the road. Edward had observed this man
leaving the inn very hastily the instant the dragoons
were announced. This circumstance had excited a
vague suspicion that he might be one of the assassins.
This suspicion almost arose to a certainty,
when he read the first description, that the magistrate
had attempted to apply to himself. On his
approach now, Edward was more particular in observing
him, and was forcibly struck with the exact
correspondence of his person with the description
in all its traits. He made a bow to Edward,
which he returned coolly, for his soul shuddered
at the idea of being in company with a murderer.

“M`Cauley,” said O'Halloran, “the minions
of government are now on the alert to discover
those brave fellows, who have avenged their country,
and saved upwards of two hundred of her patriots
from the gallows, by the destruction of the
perjured M`Bride. Their suspicion falls upon
every stranger, and they were likely, before we
left town, to give some trouble to this gentleman.

“I suppose,” said M`Cauley, “your magistrate,
M`Claverty, is very zealous on this occasion.
But it may yet be so much the worse for him.”

No reply was made, and silence continued until

they were within a mile of the castle. M`Cauley
then stopped suddenly.

“Mr. O'Halloran,” said he, looking at the same
time earnestly in Edward's face, for the whole three
had stopped, “if I may judge from appearance,
your friend here, possesses too much honour to betray
a man who reposes so much confidence in
him as to entrust him with his life.”

O'Halloran replied, “that he had every reliance
on Edward's honour, but—”

“No buts,” said the other, “if he is a man of
honour, he shall know who I am, let his views of
my conduct be what they may. Young man,” continued
he, addressing Edward, “you see before
you, one whose whole heart and soul is devoted to
his country; and, who to avenge her cause upon a
traitor, has not scrupled to offend human laws past
forgiveness; and, perhaps, in the opinion of many
good men, has also violated the laws of heaven.
Of this, however, he can assure you, his own conscience
applauds the deed. Conviction tells him
he has done his duty. He has not only prevented
the lives of more than two hundred patriots from
falling into the hands of tyrants who know no
mercy; he has also prevented his country's enemies
from becoming acquainted with the efforts her
sons are making to free her from bondage. Sir,
you may condemn my action. I have destroyed
an enemy to my country, who had sworn to be
her friend; but you must respect my motives; they
were purely patriotic. I am not blood-thirsty; but
in competition with my country's welfare, I value
neither my own blood nor that of any other man.
In short, I have destroyed M`Bride, the informer,
before he got his traitorous designs accomplished,
and should the gallows be my reward, I shall there
glory in the deed.”

The magnanimity of M`Cauley made a strong

impression on Edward. He deplored his infatuation,
he condemned his crime, but he admired
his devoted fidelity to the cause he had espoused.
He assured him, “that although he would rather
not have been entrusted with his secret, he should
have no cause to repent the confidence he had
placed in him.”

O'Halloran's countenance brightened at this assurance,
and with more than usual spirits he led
the way to the castle.

On entering, Edward was introduced to an inmate
of the castle whom he had not before seen.
This was the only sister of O'Halloran, who had
been some weeks absent, and had just returned a
few hours before, accompanied by a Miss Agnew,
at whose father's house she had been visiting. The
old lady was remarkably intelligent, active and
cheerful for her time of life. She was older than
her brother; and might now be about her sixty-fifth
year. At the early period of her life she enjoyed
the sweets of matrimony for about five
years; but her husband who was an extensive
merchant in Belfast, was drowned in a voyage to
Liverpool. His name was Brown, and, although
they never had children, they were tenderly attached
to each other. Indeed, so fondly did Mrs.
Brown cherish the memory of her beloved husband,
who had been her first and favourite lover,
that she would never after his death listen to the
addresses of any man.

Miss Agnew was a pretty, lively, rosy-cheeked
girl of nineteen, who had lately finished a boarding
school education, and possessed an easy, gay
sort of familiarity in her manner, which was far
from displeasing. She was, occasionally, fond of
indulging in a sportive kind of wit approaching to
what is vulgarly termed quizzing. This, however,
if we except a little coquetry, which was natural

to her, was her only foible, for she was in reality
a well informed and well bred handsome girl, with
a fortune of five thousand pounds at her own disposal,
bequeathed to her several years before by
a deceased uncle.

This accession to the castle party was highly
pleasing to Edward, as it promised not only to be
the means of preventing politics from engrossing
the conversation, but of affording him more of
Ellen's society, who would not be so shy of her
company when it would be only sought for in the
presence of her female friends.

After dinner the newspapers were produced.
On opening the Bolfast News-Letter, O'Halloran
read aloud the following paragraph:—

“Barbarous Assassination.—Yesterday evening a
shocking murder was committed in North Street,
in this town. A respectable man named M`Bride,
was shot dead at the mouth of Round Entry by some
villains who had stationed themselves there for that
purpose. It is supposed that the instrument used
was an air-gun, as no report was heard at the time
that the deed was done. Favoured by the confusion
which took place the villains escaped, it is supposed,
up the Entry, and have hitherto eluded pursuit.
Two men, namely M`Cauley, and Kelly,
were observed standing about the mouth of the
Entry for some time previous to the commission of
the crime; and are suspected. Descriptions of
their persons are given in an advertisement in another
part of our paper, where it will also be seen
that a reward of five hundred pounds is offered
for the apprehension of each. It is suspected that
they belong to the society of United Irishmen; and
that to prevent an exposure of the designs of that
association, which it is thought the deceased intended
to make to government, was the motive
that urged these wicked and misguided wretches

to the perpetration of the foulest and blackest
crime of which men can be guilty.”

“The editor of this paper,” said O'Halloran,
when he had finished reading the paragraph, “has
always been a tool to the government. But let us
see what the Northern Star says on the subject.
The conductors of that paper are true Irishmen, men
of enlightened minds and independent spirits, who
cannot be bought.”

“A warning to traitors.—Yesterday evening
an awful but just dispensation was inflicted upon
the notorious M`Bride, for an unprincipled conspiracy
with some Orange magistrates to betray the
cause of his country, in violation of the most solemn
oaths. We are informed that this unhappy man
had professed great zeal in the cause of the United
Irishmen, and had consequently enjoyed a great
share of their confidence. It appears, however,
that this zeal was affected for the purpose of treachery.
His intentions to betray the leaders of the
Union into the hands of government, it is said, were
only of late discovered, but discovered in such a
manner as to leave no doubt on the subject. On
his way to the stage office where he intended to
take the coach for Dublin in order to give his information
to the ministry, he was shot at the mouth
of Round Entry in North-street.

“We are no friends to assassination or any other
mode of destroying human life, but when the circumstances,
that those who were concerned in this
action, had either to do it or suffer themselves, is
considered, it is hoped that the public, if they cannot
altogether justify, will at least be ready to pardon
them. Those at least who so loudly eulogized
the destroyer of Marat, cannot with any consistency,
condemn the destroyers of M`Bride. We trust
that the fate of this unfortunate man will be a caution
to all who would betray their country, for it demonstrates

that the people have energy and promptitude
sufficient to baffle the attempts of treachery,
and to inflict vengeance on their enemies.”

The reading of these paragraphs made an impression
of deep horror on the minds of the ladies, and
when O'Halloran had finished, Mrs. Brown remarked
with a sigh, that the state of society must
be dreadful when even its most virtuous and enlightened
members, were found ready to exert their
eloquence in palliating the most terrible of crimes.

“Ah! my brother!” she exclaimed, preventing
him from interrupting her, “I know that you would
plead necessity and self-preservation. But necessity
is an old apology, and is always a dreadful one;
and self-preservation, valuable as it is, is surely
bought at a dear price, when assassination is paid
for it.”

“Sister,” said O'Halloran, “we shall not at present
contend this matter. The deed is done, and I
hope that God will bless it, as he did the slaying
of Eglon by the patriot Ehud.”

He then arose, and requesting M`Cauley to accompany
him, they withdrew together.