University of Virginia Library

10. CHAP. X.

—Gay.

Edward sustained his misfortunes with great
spirit, and however severely he felt his being thus
inclosed, as it were, in a living tomb, he took care
that none around him should perceive the state of
his feelings.

The Rev. Mr. Porter, a presbyterian clergyman,
at this time under cover from a threatened
prosecution for high treason, was his most agreeable
and constant companion. Mr. Samuel Nelson,
whom we mentioned before, and who at this period
was a very active agent of the United Directory,
was a frequent visitor at the cavern; but not
being under proscription by the government, he
frequented it rather for the purpose of business
than concealment. His arrival always excited
great interest; for he never failed to bring with
him a large assortment of news, and a budget
of political documents for the inspection of his coadjutors.

The Frenchman, whom we have also already
mentioned, was a bustling, active sort of a character,
who, on all occasions assumed an air of great
importance, as being a citizen and a public, or (to
speak more correctly,) a secret functionary of the

Great nation; for at this period, the meanest officers
of the new Gallic republic exhibited a desire
of being thought superior to the people of every
other country; and in all companies and controversies,
arrogated a distinction and authority quite
inconsistent with that natural equality among mankind,
which they avowed as their favourite doctrine.
But the enthusiasm excited by their military
successes, and the boldness of their innovations,
veiled all their faults from the eyes of the
United Irishmen, and among many of the zealots
of the day, any indecorum might have been justified
by merely asserting it to be the French custom.
From not being at first aware of this circumstance,
Edward was greatly at a loss to imagine,
how men of such improved minds and refined manners,
as Porter, Nelson and O'Halloran, could tolerate
the superciliousness and flippancy of their
foreign guest; who would often, in the midst of the
most serious natural discussion, interrupt the speaker
by starting questions, or making observations
the most frivolous and irrelevant to the subject.

For the two first days of Edward's imprisonment,
O'Halloran did not visit the cave. On the evening
of the third, he entered with a bundle of letters and
newspapers, which he handed to Nelson. Then going
forward to Edward;

“Mr. Middleton,” said he, “I am truly sorry
that it is against your will you are here; and I hope
that it will be soon otherwise. I request you will
read this letter at your leisure, and seriously consider
its contents.”

He then seated himself at the table, and for
about an hour joined his confederates in perusing
the papers he had brought; after which he asked
Nelson to accompany him to the castle, and they
retired together.

Immediately on receiving the letter, Edward

withdrew to his sleeping closet, where throwing
himself on his couch, he read as follows:

“In consenting to your confinement, I made a
greater sacrifice of feeling to duty than I had ever
been before called on to make. I had a hard
struggle; but my conception of what I owed to the
great national cause in which I am engaged, gained
the victory.

“Ever since I could lay down a plan of conduct
for my life, I have graduated the scale of my duties
in the following manner. The first is my duty to
my God, the second to my country, the third to my
neighbour, and the fourth to myself. It is my pride
that I have hitherto acted in conformity to this
scale; and I consider no instance of my doing so,
a greater triumph of my principles over my feelings,
than my resigning you to a captivity, which, I trust,
will not be of long continuance. This latter circumstance
will, however, depend altogether on
yourself. Were we certain that the secrets connected
with our cause, which have come to your
knowledge, would be safe in your keeping, you
should not be confined a single hour. But so long
as you profess a disapprobation of our designs, it is
manifest that, to permit your enlargement would be
unwarrantably to subject ourselves and our cause
to unnecessary dangers.

“I do not write to you for the purpose of apologizing
for my conduct. So long as that conduct has
the approbation of my own conscience, I will apologize
to no man. But I wish to represent the affair to
you in its true light; and to assure you that you have
no personal danger to apprehend, and that you shall
suffer no personal hardship nor privation, that
consistently with the precautionary views which
have induced us to confine you, we can prevent.

“When I say that the recovery of your liberty
depends on yourself, I mean, that by evincing an
attachment to our association, and by coming under
the obligations we impose on its members, you will
satisfy us that we run no risk from your disclosures,
and you shall not only be immediately set at liberty,
but gladly hailed as a brother, and raised to
an honourable place in our esteem and confidence.

“At present we make great allowances for the
political principles in which you have been educated;
but we trust, that you have good sense sufficient
not to permit prejudice always to blind you
to justice. For my own part, I am persuaded that
you have liberality and discernment enough, provided
you exercise them, to enable you to throw
off the trammels of early impressions, when they
will not stand the test of reason. You are an
Irishman, and I believe you love your country,
and wish her to be free and happy. I will ask
you can she ever be so, under a government
which derives all its authority and its impulses
from a foreign country, absolutely inimical to her
prosperity; and surely a country which looks upon
ours as a conquered province, and is proud of the
domination she exercises over us, can never be
likely to grant us rights and privileges, to which, as
human beings, we are entitled, and of which she
herself has despoiled us.

“I need not enlarge upon facts to convince you
that Irishmen have nothing to expect from English
generosity. You are, I doubt not, well enough
conversant in the history of our British connexion
to know that it has been pregnant with nothing but
oppressions and calamities to our ancestors and
ourselves. As an Irishman, as a lover of justice
and of your country, you cannot but feel indignant
at the usage she has ever received from that nation
which has so long acted, not as her sister, but as

her tyrant; and, if you feel indignant at the ages of
unmerited and cruel sufferings, that your country
has sustained, we call on you, in her name, to
join with those who are resolved to deliver her
from her oppressors, or perish in the attempt.

“It is in vain for any one to say, that it is our
own restless, discontented and riotous dispositions,
that have caused our misfortunes, and that if we
would live peaceably, we might live happily. Ah!
sir, we have tried that. We long submitted, but even
then we were not spared. We were forbidden to
exert our industry, but in such a manner, and in
the production of such articles alone as our neighbours
pleased; while our commerce was confined
to such channels as suited their interest. At their
caprice, we were extravagantly taxed, while we
were chained into poverty—while we were forbidden
to improve the natural wealth and resources
with which Providence has so bountifully blessed
our island, in her soil, her climate, her minerals
and her situation. Three-fourths of our population,
were deprived of every political privilege,
and are consequently, at this day, no better than
slaves, compelled to passive and degrading submission
to the will of their haughty and unfeeling
masters. When we patiently submitted, our submission
was considered want of spirit, and we
were represented as being incapable of either understanding
or relishing the blessings of liberty.
We then petitioned and remonstrated, and were
called seditious, and troublesome, and turbulent.
Our petitions were only answered by mockery,
and our remonstrances with threats; and, latterly,
these threats have been wantonly converted into a
malignant and cruel persecution.

“The state of the times, I need not describe to you.
That dreadful state has been caused by the tyrannical
system of vengeance, which has been adopted

to counteract the natural and justifiable exertions
of an enlightened people to obtain from their oppressors
their legitimate and unquestionable rights.
On which side is the cause of justice, your own
good sense will readily perceive; and which side
has the greater claim upon your good will and
services, as a patriot your sense of duty to the
land that gave you birth will easily decide.

“As one who esteems you and feels a high interest
in your welfare, I exhort you to decide in
favour of an injured and oppressed nation, which
claims you as her son, and to whom alone your
allegiance and fidelity are due. Reflect seriously
on the subject, so that if your decision be in our
favour, it may be the result of deliberate reasoning
and true conviction. We shall then confide in
you as our friend, and I shall have the happiness
of regarding you as an Irishman worthy of the
name.

“I am, &c.

To this letter, Edward wrote a very copious
reply, from which the following passages are extracted.
After assuring O'Halloran that he gave
full credit to the motives which influenced him in
consenting to his captivity, and, on that account,
let its issue be what it would, he freely forgave
him, he proceeded—“But as to your attempts to
bring me over to your party, it will require considerations
more powerful, and arguments more conclusive,
than any you have advanced, or I am
persuaded have in your power to advance, to be
successful. I feel as much as any man for the misfortunes
of my country, and it is this very feeling
that prevents me from joining in measures which, I
know, will only plunge her into deeper distress.

“I need not, I presume, recall to the memory of
a man of your historical knowledge, the origin of
those laws of which the catholic part of our countrymen
complain. Had James instead of William
been the successful competitor for the crown of
these kingdoms, I dare say, you will admit it to be
probable, that the catholics would have guarded
their religion by statutes, at least as strong and severe
as the victorious protestants found it necessary
to adopt. I need not inform you that in those countries,
where the catholics did prevail—in France,
Spain, Portugal, &c. they have secured their own
faith with infinitely more solicitude and zeal, than
the people of Britain did theirs, for they have secured
it to the total exclusion of all others. I will
not speak of the use they have always made of
power, whenever they happened to obtain it in
these islands.—You know it well, and knowing it
as you do, you and the other presbyterians who
have lately espoused their cause, merit, at least,
the praise of rendering good for evil, conduct which
must for ever elicit respect and admiration, from
every lover of generosity and magnanimity. I can,
as much as any one, appreciate the liberality of
such conduct; and would be no enemy to catholic
emancipation, if brought about by legal means;
for I am inclined to think that all the political privileges
they desire, might now be granted to the
Irish catholics with safety, nay, with advantage to
the national prosperity. They are become more
tolerant than their ancestors; and, I trust, that the
age is too enlightened for religious animosity and
fanaticism again to produce such a degree of human
misery as they did in the days of the Tudors
and the Stewarts.

“You must acknowledge that since the expulsion
of the last mentioned family from the throne,
no man is punished in these kingdoms for conscience-sake.

Even with respect to the civil disabilities,
which the penal laws imposed on the
catholics, they have, within the last half century,
been considerably relieved from their effects; and
by a proper and temperate perseverance in applying
to the authority in whose hands the constitution
lodges the power of redressing grievances,
whatever yet remains of these laws, would undoubtedly
be repealed, whenever it should appear
that it could be done with safety. But I will appeal
to the common sense of any man, if the
present conduct of the disaffected in this island is
likely to hasten that event? No; if the sword again
must be used in defence of the laws and constitution
of the country, I fear it will be thought necessary
to make these laws stronger, perhaps severer
than ever. God forbid that ever such a crisis
should take place, but if it should, every unprejudiced
man can perceive who are to blame for it.

“With respect to the British jealousy of our
prosperity, which you say has had the effect of
shackling our commerce, and restraining our industry,
I am of opinion, that, if fairly enquired into, it
will be found to originate only in the imaginations
of theorists, or the ambition of demagogues, who
wish to disturb the public tranquillity. Why should
Britain be averse to our prosperity? It would be
directly contrary to her interests; for our prosperity
is her prosperity, and our strength is her
strength. As well might Middlesex oppose the
prosperity of Lancashire, and the authorities of
Edinburgh adopt measures to prevent the growth
of Glasgow. The fact is, our trade, manufactures
and capital, have more than doubled themselves
within the last twenty years, and, were it not for
the political broils that distract the country, it
would, at the present moment, be more prosperous
and happy than ever it was, during the whole

course of its past history. Here, sir, you cannot
deny that before the present discontents became
so alarming, every peaceable industrious man had
the safety of his person, property, and character
well secured to him by known laws; and could sit
down and call what he possessed his own, with
more confidence under our government than under
any other in Europe, or perhaps in the world.

“You say that my country claims all my allegiance.
I know it, sir, and I acknowledge it. But
I cannot identify my country with that imprudent
faction to which it grieves me to find you have so
zealously attached yourself. * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * I wish you to understand me clearly. I
am opposed to despotism as much as I am opposed
to anarchy itself. My politics are the politics of
the whigs of 1688, who expelled despotism from
the throne, and by placing in its stead a limited
monarch, gave the last finish to our excellent constitution.

“The abuses that have crept into our government,
during the lapse of more than a century, I
would endeavour to reform; but I would do it by
legal means; and these, if properly persisted in,
could not fail to be effectual. The corruptions of
the constitution, I would purify, not by violence,
desolation and blood-shed, remedies infinitely more
dreadful than the disease has yet become, but by
the means by which Grattan obtained our free
trade and independent parliament, namely, parliamentary
interference, which by persevering and
energetic applications from the people will always
be procured. When I say that my sentiments on
these subjects were the sentiments of Hampden
and Russel, Addison and Steel, Chatham and Fox,
Charlemont and Grattan, you will hardly think them
unfriendly to rational liberty, or unworthy of an
Irishman.

“To obtain my enlargement, I will come under no
obligations that might by any possibility be ascribed
to meanness or timidity. I should scorn to act the part
of an informer, against either the misguided or the
unfortunate—and, with respect to you individually,
to whom I am under Providence indebted for life
itself, gratitude binds me too strongly to your personal
welfare, to permit me either inadvertently
or intentionally, to divulge any part of your conduct,
or of those connected with you, that might
operate to your disadvantage * * * *.

O'Halloran and his confederates finding that they
could not shake Edward's political principles, desisted
after this, from making the attempt. They
also appeared more guarded when conversing in
his presence, so that, during the remainder of the
summer, he obtained very little information concerning
the progress of their affairs.

In the meantime, the Recluse being aware of the
capricious and revengeful disposition of several of
those who had access to his imprisoned friend, became
every day more uneasy concerning him.
With M`Nelvin, who also felt much on the subject,
and who was his only confidant, he had frequent
conferences on the practicability of procuring Edward's
liberty, but they could devise no plan that
seemed in the slightest degree to promise success.

Ellen, by the assurances she received of his personal
safety, and by the sympathy, and kind attentions
of her aunt and Miss Agnew, became daily
more resigned and cheerful, so that before the end
of August, she was seen taking her usual evening
walks, although it was observed that she generally
walked alone, and as much as possible courted solitude.

One evening, about this time, an incident
took place which, as it had some connexion with
those events which led to Edward's enlargement,
should be related.

Monsieur Monier, the French emissary already
mentioned, had fallen desperately in love with her;
and having obtained her grandfather's permission
to address her, had added greatly to her affliction
by persecuting her with his passion for several
months past. He had been lately informed of her
partiality for Edward; and in consequence began
to hate him as the sole obstacle to his happiness.

Edward had never esteemed this man, for independently
of his criminal and disgraceful occupation,
his manners were flippant, profane and arrogant,
the very reverse of those he approved. In
several conversations, the dissimilarity of their
minds had been manifested, and on some occasions,
they had taken but little pains to conceal their mutual
dislike. Our Frenchman, therefore, cordially
wished perdition to his rival.

On the evening alluded to, he followed Ellen into
one of her favourite and lonely walks, in a small
wood that skirted the Volunteer ground. She was
indulging her melancholy feelings in reading Burns's
beautifully tender song of Highland Mary when
Monier approached. He had just left the company
of the gentlemen at the castle, among whom the
social glass had circulated freely, and was a little
heated with the liquor he had drunk.

“I am right happy, right glad, mam'selle,” said
he, “to meet with you here. This is a fine, lovely-looking
place for a lover like me to meet her he
loves better than all the world.”

“Sir,” said Ellen, “I have often told you not to
speak to me on such a subject. I now wish to be
alone.—You will, therefore, be pleased to walk on

to wherever you were going, and leave me to myself.”

“Beautiful creature, do you think I can leave
you? I left my company and my wine to come after
you.”

“You did very wrong, sir; and I insist that you
shall immediately return to your company and
your wine, for whatever business you may have
with them, I assure you, with me you can have
none.”

“Ah! my dear, with your bright eyes, with your
lovely cheeks like the rose, and with your pretty
bosom like the snow, I must have business. I am
tired of politics, I now want to enjoy love.”

“What do you mean, sir,” said she, “by thus
pertinaciously obtruding yourself upon me, when I
tell you that your company is unwelcome?”

“Is my company unwelcome? Ah! I know somebody
else, whose company you would prefer in this
place.”

“No matter what you know; only begone from
me.”

“Ah! my love, you should think how that man
is in my power. He is my rival. I can be revenged.
Only let me sit with you, and talk with you, and
kiss your pretty hand, and he shall be used well.”

“I say again, sir, begone! How dare you use
such freedoms.”

“It is only the way in France, mam'selle. I
love you to my very soul, and I must kiss you and
court you as lovers always do there.”

“Your rudeness is intolerable!”

“Ah! my angel, my passion is intolerable.”

So saying he caught her very roughly.

“O God of mercy! is there no one to help me?”
exclaimed the terrified maiden.

“Villain!” cried a loud, tremendous voice, “receive
that for your infamous conduct to an angel”

—and a tall stout man without a hat, or coat, and
bald headed, struck him on the face with such
force that he fell to the ground screaming, while
the blood gushed freely from his mouth and nostrils.
Ellen could not recognize the stranger.

“Whoever you are,” said she, “may heaven
bless you, for this deed!”

“Take my arm, fair innocence! I will protect
you home.”

She did so, and without speaking, he conducted
her to the public road which led to the castle.

“You are now safe,” said he, “I must leave
you.”

“But first,” she replied, “let me know to whom
I am indebted for this deliverance?”

“There are people approaching,” he replied,
“I must not be seen. Describe me to no one.
Call with the Recluse to-morrow, at five in the
afternoon. He will tell you who I am. But stop,
stay—I see M`Nelvin, who knows me. He will
conduct you to the castle.”

The poet on seeing Ellen, was about to retire,
but the stranger called him forward.

“Protect this young lady to the castle,” said he,
“ask her no questions; but return to me in an hour.
I shall explain all.”

So saying he disappeared, and M`Nelvin, with
considerable embarrassment, offered Ellen his arm.

“Oh! Mr. M`Nelvin,” said she, “I shall never
forget that man. I hope heaven will reward him—
methinks I should know his voice.”

“He is a good man, Miss O'Halloran, and you
may yet know him.”

“You have that pleasure it seems.”

“Yes, and that pleasure is the only antidote I
have against sorrows that would otherwise destroy
me.”

“Your unhappiness, Mr. M`Nelvin, which I have

long noticed, grieves me, for I know you deserve
a better fate. Can nothing be done to remove the
cause of your melancholy?”

“No; nothing in this world,” he replied, with a
sigh, “without rendering a dearer object than myself
miserable.”

They had now arrived at the castle, into which
the poet declined entering. But before they parted,
Ellen requested him to call the next day to
accompany her to the Recluse's cavern, to which
he consented.

After much reflection on the Frenchman's misconduct,
Ellen resolved not to reveal it to her
friends. She recollected his threats against Edward,
and she conceived, that by publishing his
disgrace, she would only irritate his evil passions
the more against his prisoner, and perhaps stimulate
him to push his revenge even to assassination.

At the appointed time, she accompanied M`Nelvin
to the hermit's cave, at the door of which he
left her, promising to return in an hour to conduct
her back. She found the old man in his usual
attire in his first apartment. He informed her
that he was the person who had rescued her yesterday—that
seeing the Frenchman following her
in a state of intoxication, and knowing how she had
been lately persecuted by him, he thought it prudent
to remain convenient for her protection; but
not wishing to be known to him as the Recluse, he
threw off part of the disguise he had usually worn
since he came into this neighbourhood.

“Then you are not the decrepid, destitute old
man we have hitherto taken you to be?” said she.

“No;” he replied, “but I have strong reasons
for wishing to appear so for some time. This is
all I must discover to you at present; but, I hope
the time will come when throwing off all mystery,
I shall reveal myself fully to you and to the

world. In the meantime, my daughter, when you
want a friend, when you need a protector, fly here,
repose confidence in me, and be assured you shall
receive ready and sufficient succour. I know the
secret of your heart with respect to the imprisoned
stranger. Be not ashamed of it. He is worthy of
your preference, and in thus encouraging you to
love him, you will yet find that I give a sanction
to your feelings, at which your reason will rejoice.
Return home now, my daughter—I may call you
such, for my chief wish on earth is to see you
happy; and my greatest anxiety is to guard you
against misfortune. May God bless you, and be
you still as innocent and virtuous as you now are,
and you will deserve his blessing.”

“Thank you, father,” said she, “for you have
spoke comfort to my soul. How shall I ever be
able to repay such kindness?”

“By nursing me on my death-bed,” he replied,
“and shedding the tears of affection over my
grave. Farewell! Visit me often.”

At the door of the cave, she met the poet, who
had been waiting there to conduct her home. Being
thus assured of the disinterested attachment of
two worthy persons, she became more cheerful in
her mind, although her terror of the Frenchman
was so great, that she resolved to discontinue those
solitary rambles from which she had drawn so
much enjoyment, least he should again find an opportunity
to assault her.