University of Virginia Library

PREFACE.

THE conspiracy and insurrection of the
United Irishmen, were undeniably of the
most interesting, and, perhaps, of the most
important character of any that ever agitated
a country. Its leaders exhibited a
combination of talents, courage, and disinterested
patriotism, which has but seldom
been equalled, and which, in conjunction
with the generous nature of the principles
for which they contended, could not, and did
not fail to attract towards them the admiration
and sympathy of all classes of men in
Christendom, without excepting even those
against whose authority their arms were
wielded. Their enterprise failed, whether
fortunately or unfortunately for mankind, it
is not the business of the novelist to inquire;
but had it succeeded, and the designs they
had formed for the advantage of their country
been realized, what epithets of praise
would have been considered too high for
their deserts? Their cause would have been
called holy, and their efforts glorious. Even
as it is, all parties admit that they were zealous
for their country's good. The purity of
their motives is not denied; it is only the accuracy

of their views, and the soundness of
their principles that are called in question.
Whatever our own judgment on this subject
may be, we have refrained from expressing
it; and in writing the following
narrative, which, we seriously assert, contains
numerous facts that have never yet
appeared in print, the course we prescribed
for ourselves was that of strict impartiality
not only in relating the events, but in detailing
the opinions, and delineating the characters
of the different parties. The United
Irishmen and the loyalists, are permitted to
express their sentiments with equal force
and freedom. The fanatical and the fierce
on either side, are painted as such, while
the moderate and lenient, we hope, have
ample justice done to the rationality of their
views.

We have thought it necessary to say this
much in behalf of the neutrality of our plan,
because many of the actors in the scenes
we have described, are yet living, whose
prejudices either for, or against the principles
which occasioned the contest, may induce
them to expect either a defence or
reprehension of their doctrines and conduct.
These men, whether republicans or royalists,
must expect no such thing, and we caution
politicians of every creed, against identifying
our private sentiments with those
of any of the characters we have drawn.
These characters are drawn nearly as we

knew them in life; and with respect to the
events, it was our lot, although then in our
childhood, personally to witness many of
them; of many others of the class, that assume
to be historical, we have obtained our
information from sources of unquestionable
authenticity. As to these events, however,
we will not deny that we have exercised
the privilege of our calling, by giving to
many of them the colouring of romance; but
during the singular period that has supplied
our subject, numberless exploits and transactions
took place highly enough coloured
of themselves, and requiring no embellishment
from fancy to suit them to the appetite
of the most choice admirer of extraordinary
facts that ever derived gratification
from novel-reading. These it was not
thought necessary to array in any other
garb than that of the simple truth. For
any further information that may be wanted
relative to the writing of these volumes,
the reader is respectfully referred to the
following INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS to himself,
in which he will find that he is spoken to
plainly and familiarly, as one friend should
speak to another.

Judicious Reader,

Having the enjoyment of thy good
opinion very much at heart, I cannot but
feel extremely anxious respecting the impression
which my hardihood in submitting

the following history to thy perusal, will
cause thee to imbibe concerning me. There
may be innumerable errors in the work,
which I cannot discover, but which may be
very apparent to thy superior discernment.
While therefore, the great object of my
ambition is to appear in thy sight a very
wise man, thou mayest be inclined to look
upon me as a very great fool, for expecting
to acquire thy esteem by such a trifling—or
as thou mayest, peradventure, say,
silly performance.

It hath, in these latter times, been the
custom with some authors, who, like me,
have approached the awful tribunal of thy
judgment with trembling steps and palpitating
hearts, to attempt evading at least
a portion of thy censure, by ascribing the
authorship of their productions to persons
altogether innocent thereof; and falsely assuring
thee that the manuscripts fell accidentally
into their hands, and that they are
only the editors. By this means they expect
to deceive thee into the belief that
they have been guilty only of the fact of
publishing, and consequently, are not answerable
for any imperfections in either the
design or execution of the performances.

O! sons of disingenuity and fraud, how
vain are your efforts to impose on the wise
people of this sagacious age? Your shallow
artifices are easily seen through, and
not one novel-reader in ten thousand believeth

your foolish statements on this subject.

In vain doth the pathetic author of the
“Man of Feeling” assure us that he rescued
the manuscript of that affecting work, from
the unfeeling fowling-piece of a fat, sporting
curate; or that the amiable Mrs. Wistanly
made him a present of the original of
“Annesly's Sorrows.” It is equally vain for
the authoress of “The Modern Philosophers,”
to declare, that she found a chamber-maid's
brush about to consign the papers
containing that cleverly told tale, into a
kennel, along with the dirt and rubbish
swept from a lodging house. A respectable
Dutchman of the name of Knickerbocker,
hath also been accused, by Mr. Washington
Irving, formerly of New York, of having
written an amusing history of that ancient
and venerable city: but nobody, now-a-days,
believeth him. Fruitless also hath been
the attempt of the most prolific of all novelmakers,
to deceive the children of this generation,
by fathering a number of his own
multitudinous offspring, upon a schoolmaster's
usher.

But it would be tedious, benevolent reader,
to go over the catalogue of these writers,
who have had recourse to this method
of screening themselves from thy condemnation.
It will be sufficient to observe that
not one of them hath succeeded; but that
in consequence of thy great penetration,

they have always been detected; and thou
hast, as became thy great and inflexible
justice, uniformly acquitted the accused, and
condemned the accusers.

With such warning before my eyes, I
would be guilty of something far worse than
folly if I should imitate these writers in
their detected falsehoods. I shall, therefore,
boldly and unreservedly avow myself to be
the bona fide author of the following history,
and must, consequently, submit to
whatever doom thou shalt assign me; as
such, humbly requesting, however, that in
consideration of my candour in pleading
guilty, thou wilt, in pronouncing my sentence,
mingle mercy with justice.

But, although, my dear reader, I cannot,
with a safe conscience, deny being guilty
of having both written and published this
history, yet I will make a statement to thee,
which, I trust, thou wilt consider as, in a
great degree, apologizing for my fault. By
this statement thou wilt perceive that I had
either to commit that fault, or lose one hundred
and fifty pounds a year, which, as I
am like too many other authors, but a poor
man, I hope thou wilt think that I acted
wisely in securing.

The facts are these:

My aunt Nancy, who died about two
years ago, bequeathed me her whole property,
amounting to the before mentioned
annual sum, well secured in real estate for

ever, on condition that I should, within
three years after her demise, write and
publish such a narrative of the rise, progress,
and termination of the conspiracy
and insurrection of the United Irishmen, interweaving
therewith such an account of
the views and feelings, manners and customs
of the people of Ulster, at the conclusion
of the last century, as would meet with
the approbation of her executors. In default
of my performing this condition, she
ordered her property to be distributed, in
equal proportions, between nearly three-score
and ten nephews and nieces; to prevent
whom from enjoying their several pittances,
I hope thou wilt, indulgent reader,
think that I was in prudence bound to make
an effort; especially, as I found that the
greater number of them were not much inclined
to thank their deceased relative for
her bequest.

Thou wilt, no doubt, wish to know what
could induce my aunt Nancy to make such
an odd disposal of her property; and, as I
am desirous to gratify all thy reasonable
wishes, I shall, with pleasure, inform thee.

My aunt, as thou already perceivest, was
a curious woman. She was sixty-one years
in this world, and lived all that time in a
state of single blessedness; and, what is as
true as some may think it strange, she did
so from an actual preference of that state to
the more popular one of connubial felicity.

When I first remember to have known
her, she was on the upper side of forty; of
a tall, slim figure, with small, keen, hazel
eyes, a nose tolerably well sized, but somewhat
sharp pointed, and a chin of more than
ordinary longitude. In fact, the contour,
(pardon a French word, dear reader, I shall
not often offend in that way) of not only
her countenance, but her whole person, was
remarkable for the length, thinness and
keenness of its aspect. The effect of this
natural conformation upon the beholder,
was very much increased by the fashion of
her dress, which was that which prevailed
during the earlier half of George III.'s reign.
Its most prominent parts were a long-bodied
gown, closely fitted to a pair of tightly-laced
stays, which reached from the arm-pits to
the haunches, and compressed the whole
body into the smallest possible dimensions;
a huge head-dress, called a “mob,” which
towered half a foot higher than a grenadier's
cap above the crown; and shoes,
the tapering heels of which elevated their
wearer several inches from the ground.
When my aunt stood upright in this uniform,
she was no bad representation of
what may be seen in several of our large
cities, a tall slender iron bar stuck into a
thick stone pillar, and supporting a large
globular lamp at its top.

So much for my aunt's person. As to
her manners, she was rather precise and

serious in her deportment, and perhaps,
possessed a little too much affected gentility,
and was too solicitous about the minute
forms of politeness, to be quite agreeable;
besides, she had contracted a filthy
habit of using snuff immoderately. But as
she was, upon the whole, tolerably good
natured for an old maid, and, as she always
made an excellent cup of tea, and was somewhat
of an epicure in good toast, those who
were familiar with her could occasionally
contrive to spend a comfortable evening at
her table. With respect to her mind, she
had, in her youth, improved it much, by
reading a multitude of the most exquisite
and wonderful plays, novels, and romances
in the language. For the last ten years of
her life, however, she had devoted her faculties
to the graver studies of the history,
antiquities, geography and statistics of her
native island; and, as a natural consequence,
she had latterly permitted politics also to
engross a great share of her attention.

Amidst the immense multitude of volumes
which she had persued on these subjects,
she was surprised to find none that gave
any thing like an accurate account of the
people among whom she had spent her
whole existence; and whom her local partialities
induced her to consider the most
interesting, if not the most important people
on the earth. She was much chagrined
with the carelessness with which even professed

travellers through Ireland have uniformly
mentioned its northern province.
Some, she would say, seem to treat the
people of Ulster as altogether beneath their
notice; others take delight in making them
the objects of misrepresentation and slander,
while none manifest for them that sympathy
and respect, to which, from their spirit
of enterprise and industry, they are assuredly
entitled.

The authoress of the “Wild Irish Girl”
particularly provoked her indignation, by
the invidious and unfair comparison she
hath drawn, in that work, between the
Southern and Northern inhabitants of the
Island; for she thought that an Irishwoman
at least, ought not to have been so wilfully
and unjustly abusive of any portion of her
countrymen, even if they did not happen to
be descended from Milesian ancestors, and
were unable to speak the original language
of the country. She ought, especially, to
have spared her attacks upon that portion,
to whose activity and intelligence the nation
is chiefly indebted for whatever it possesseth
of either prosperity or importance.

My aunt was also much displeased at the
very partial and inaccurate accounts which
have been given to the world of the motives,
designs, and transactions of the Northern
United Irishmen; and, as she conceived
that her opportunities of knowing the facts
entitled her to be a tolerably good judge of

these matters, she took the greater liberties
in condemning the writers of such accounts.
During the last two or three years of her
life, she had, by constantly meditating, conversing,
and writing on this subject, excited
herself to such a pitch of enthusiasm concerning
it, that she declared that she would
not die contented unless she would meet
with something approaching, at least, to a
fair statement of the manners of the people
of Ulster, and of the part they had taken in
the late rebellion.

But all her inquiries after such a work
were in vain; and, it is said that the vexation,
occasioned by this disappointment,
greatly contributed to bring on her last illness.
However that may be, the tenor of
her will proves that she had laid the matter
much to heart. I hope, therefore, that if,
where she now is, she still feels the same
interest concerning it, the work which I
now submit to thee, dear reader, will yield
her gratification, and remove her uneasiness.
It has already been approved of by
her executors, and has consequently procured
me her property; and it now only
wanteth thy approbation to procure me
that reputation, which I would esteem a far
more valuable reward for my humble efforts
in its production.

Having told thee what caused me to become
an author, I may now mention how I
became capable of being one. My father

who was far from being abundantly supplied
with any other possession except a numerous
family of sons and daughters, could not
afford to expend much worldly substance
upon my education. But on account of the
studious disposition which I had manifested
from my infancy, I had early become a great
favourite with my aunt. She, therefore,
generously took the charge of this matter
upon herself. It was the wish and intention,
of both her and my father, to prepare
me for the pulpit, and I have accordingly
been, for many years, a probationer, belonging
to that learned and reverend body,
the Synod of Ulster. But not being gifted
with sufficient efforntery to make a good
preacher, I believe, now that I have come
into the undisputed possession of my aunt's
income, I shall give up the employment,
for which I had never any great predilection,
and shall follow a life of literature, if
thou, kind reader, by thy patronage of my
present work, wilt give me any encouragement
thereto. If not, I must content myself
with creeping indolently and uselessly
through this weary world; and, if the withholding
of thy patronage hath been owing
to the evil counsel of any ill-minded critic,
upon the head of such critic be all the blame
of my indolence and uselessness, for my own
conscience will acquit me thereof.

Benevolent reader, thou wilt see, by the
following pages, that I had, in writing them,

another object in view besides gaining my
aunt's money. I also wished to give all the
great men of the earth, of whom peradventure
thou art one, a good advice, not to be
too rigid and harsh with those in subjection
to them, but to treat them with kindness
and good nature, and leniently overlook
their faults, as, I hope, thou wilt overlook
mine.