Brief reflections on the Irish Revolution of 1798—Mutual atrocities of
the Royalists and Rebels—Irish humour buoyant to the last—O’Connor,
the schoolmaster of County Kildare—“’Tis well it’s _no worse_”—The
Barristers’ corps—Its commander—Lieutenant H—— —His zeal for loyalty,
and its probable origin—Indemnities unjustly obtained for cruelty
against the insurgents—Lieutenant H——’s mode of executing a rebel—His
_sobriquet_, and its well-earned application.
Never was there an era in the history of any country which, in so short
a space of time, gave birth to such numerous and varied circumstances as
did the memorable year 1798 in Ireland: nor was there ever yet an event
so important as the Irish insurrection, but has afforded a veracious—or,
at least, a tolerably impartial narrative. But the party rancour and
virulent hatred of the religious sects in the south, the centre and west
of Ireland (where the rebellion principally raged), operated to prevent
any fair record of those scenes of bloodshed and atrocity which, on
_both sides_, outraged every principle of morality and justice, and
every feeling of consanguinity, honour, or humanity. The very worst
qualities were fostered to full maturity, and the better ones turned
adrift like discarded servants. Blood, fire, and famine were the only
umpires resorted to by the contending parties.
Those barbarities were nearly, if not altogether, unexampled either in
ancient or modern Europe: but it is now thirty years since their
termination; the surviving contemporaries are old enough to have their
blood cooled and their prejudices moderated;—and they should have grown
sufficiently dispassionate to speak of those scenes (if at all) with
honesty and candour.
I was myself in the midst of the tumult: a zealous loyalist; an officer
in the corps of barristers; an active partizan; in a word, a _strong_
adherent of government—but not a _blind_ one. I could not shut my eyes;
I could not close my ears; I would not pervert my reason; and the full
use of those faculties at that time, enables me now to state as an
historic fact—which some will deny, and many may discredit—that the
barbarities of that period (though not precisely) were pretty nearly
balanced between the conflicting parties.[31] Mercy was alike banished
by both; and the instruments employed of death and torture, though
dissimilar, were alike destructive: the bullet, sabre, bayonet, lash,
and halter, being met by the pike, the scythe, the blunderbuss, the
hatchet, and the firebrand.
-----
Footnote 31:
Never did there appear a more extravagant and therefore mischievous
historian than Sir Richard Musgrave proved himself in his “History of
Irish Rebellions, and principally that of Ninety-eight,”—almost every
chapter whereof is distinguished by misconception and fanaticism. Lord
Cornwallis disclaimed the baronet’s dedication—who, on sinking into
the grave, left a legacy to his country—having fomented prejudices
against her in Great Britain which another century may not extinguish.
-----
Yet while human blood was pouring out in streams, and human beings
consuming in fire, or writhing either upon rebel pikes or royal
bayonets—will it be believed?—men had grown so familiarised to scenes of
horror, that the eccentric humour of the Irish people was insusceptible
of decrease. In the midst of tortures, either suffered or inflicted, it
frequently broke out into the most ludicrous actions and expressions,
proving to me that an Irishman’s humour is so drilled into his nature,
as to be inexhaustible even to the moment of his death (if that is not
unusually too deliberate).[32]
-----
Footnote 32:
O’Connor, a fat, comely, cheerful-looking schoolmaster of County
Kildare, was the first rebel executed for high treason. His trial gave
rise to one of the most curious dialogues (between him and Judge
Finucane) that ever took place in a court of justice. It ended,
however, by the judge (who was a humane man) passing the usual
sentence on him—“That he should be hanged by the neck, but not till he
was dead: that while still alive his bowels should be taken out, his
body quartered,” &c. &c. The culprit bore all this with firm though
mild complacency; and on conclusion of the sentence bowed low, blessed
the judge for his _impartiality_, and turning about, said, “God’s will
be done! ’tis well _it’s no worse_!” I was surprised. I pitied the
poor fellow, who had committed no atrocity, and asked him what he
meant. “Why, Counsellor,” said he, “I was afraid his lordship would
order me to be _flogged_!” Every rebel preferred death to the
cat-o’-nine-tails! O’Connor’s head remained some years on the top of
Naas gaol.
-----
It is not in the nature, or within the comprehension, of the sober
English people to form any judgment of what a true-born Irishman is
capable of saying or doing in his deepest extremities: and I am sure
they will give me little credit for veracity when I mention some
instances which, I own, in any other country might be reasonably
considered incredible. In no other place existing could the cruel and
ludicrous be so mingled, as they were in the transactions of the
sanguinary period in question; nor do I think there can be a better
way to inform and amuse the reader, than by giving alternate anecdotes
of the _royalists_ and the _rebels_, leaving it to his own judgment to
draw conclusions.—This one observation, however, it is necessary, in
justice, to premise;—that the royalists were, generally speaking, of a
higher class than the rebels—and had received the advantages of
education, while the rebels were in a state of total ignorance and
beggary. The wanton barbarities, therefore, of the more enlightened
classes have less ground of palliation than those of a demi-savage
peasantry, urged by fanaticism, and blinded by ignorance. This
observation was strongly impressed on my mind throughout the whole of
that contest; and it would be acting unfairly toward the officer who
so judiciously commanded the military corps I was then attached to,
not to say, that, though an unqualified Protestant—an hereditary
Huguenot, filled with that spirit of sectionary zeal which drove his
eloquent ancestor from his native country; yet, during the whole of
the rebellion, Captain Saurin never suffered the corps he led to
indulge any religious distinctions;—scarcely, indeed, could his own
sect be discovered by any particular of his acts, orders, or conduct;
nor did that corps ever participate in, or even countenance, the
violent proceedings so liberally practised by other military
yeomen.[33]
-----
Footnote 33:
I knew at least but of one exception to this remark respecting the
lawyers’ corps. Very early in the rebellion an officer took down a
detachment of that corps to Rathcool, about seven miles from Dublin,
without the knowledge of the commandant. They were not aware of his
object, which turned out to be, to set fire to part of the town. He
captured one gentleman, Lieutenant Byrne, who was hanged;—and returned
to Dublin, in my mind _not_ triumphant.
He got several severe lectures, but none so strong as one from the
late Sir John Parnell, then chancellor of the exchequer, whose heir,
the present Sir Henry Parnell, was among those unwittingly taken down.
-----
This line of conduct was most exemplary; and from a thorough knowledge
of the constitutional attributes of the man, I am convinced that neither
his philanthropy, toleration, humility, or other good qualities have
been much increased by his _schooling_, for the last twenty years, in
the Irish Four Courts.
Among the extraordinary characters that turned up in the fatal
“ninety-eight,” there were few more extraordinary than Lieutenant H——,
then denominated the “walking gallows;”—and such he certainly was,
literally and practically.[34]
-----
Footnote 34:
This circumstance is mentioned in my “Historic Anecdotes of the
Union,” among several others, which were written before the present
work was in contemplation. But the incident now before the reader is
so remarkable that I have gone into it more particularly. Many will
peruse this book who will never see the other, into which have been
interwoven, in fact, _numerous_ sketches of those days that I now
regret I did not retain for the present work, to which they would have
been quite appropriate.
-----
Lieutenant H—— was an officer of the line, on half pay. His brother was
one of the solicitors to the Crown—a quiet, tremulous, _vino deditus_
sort of man, and a leading Orangeman;—his widow, who afterward married
and survived a learned doctor, was a clever, positive, good-looking
Englishwoman, and, I think, fixed the doctor’s avowed _creed_: as to his
genuine _faith_, that was of little consequence.
Lieutenant H—— was about six feet two inches high;—strong, and broad in
proportion. His strength was great, but of the dead kind, unaccompanied
by activity. He could lift a ton, but could not leap a rivulet; he
looked mild, and his address was civil—neither assuming nor at all
ferocious. I knew him well, and from his countenance should never have
suspected him of cruelty; but so cold-blooded and so eccentric an
executioner of the human race I believe never yet existed, save among
the American Indians.[35]
-----
Footnote 35:
His mode of execution being perfectly novel, and at the same time
_ingenious_, Curran said, “The lieutenant should have got a patent for
cheap strangulation.”
-----
His inducement to the strange barbarity he practised I can scarcely
conceive; unless it proceeded from that natural taint of cruelty which
so often distinguishes man above all other animals when his power
becomes uncontrolled. The propensity was probably strengthened in him
from the indemnities of martial law, and by those visions of promotion
whereby violent partizans are perpetually urged, and so frequently
disappointed.[36]
-----
Footnote 36:
“We love the treason, but hate the traitor,” is an aphorism which
those who assume prominent parts in any public convulsion are sure to
find verified. Many instances took place in Ireland; and in France
exemplifications occurred to a very considerable extent. A blind
_zealot_ is of all men most likely to become a _renegade_ if he feel
it more convenient: prejudice and interest unite to form _furious_
partizans, who are never guided by _principle_—for principle is
founded on judgment.
-----
At the period alluded to, law being suspended, and the courts of justice
closed, the “question” by torture was revived and largely practised. The
commercial exchange of Dublin formed a place of execution; even
_suspected_ rebels were every day immolated as if _convicted_ on the
clearest evidence; and Lieutenant H——’s _pastime_ of hanging _on his own
back_ persons whose physiognomies he thought characteristic of rebellion
was, (I am ashamed to say) the subject of jocularity instead of
punishment. What in other times he would himself have died for, as a
murderer, was laughed at as the manifestation of loyalty: never yet was
martial law so abused, or its enormities so hushed up[37] as in Ireland.
Being a military officer, the lieutenant conceived he had a right to do
just what he thought proper, and to make the most of his time while
martial law was flourishing.
-----
Footnote 37:
The open indemnification of Mr. Judkin Fitzgerald, of Tipperary, for
his cruelties in that county, was one of the worst acts of a vicious
government. The prime serjeant, Mr. St. George Daly, though then the
first law officer, (a _Union_ one, too, as subsequently appeared,)
voted against that most flagitious act of Parliament, which nothing
but the raging madness of those times could have carried through any
assembly. The dread of its recurrence did much to effect the Union.
-----
Once, when high in blood, he happened to meet a _suspicious-looking_
peasant from County Kildare, who could not satisfactorily account for
himself according to the lieutenant’s notion of evidence; and having
nobody at hand to vouch for him, the lieutenant of course immediately
took for granted that he _must_ be a rebel strolling about, and
imagining the death of his Most Gracious Majesty.[38] He therefore, no
other _court of justice_ being at hand, considered that he had a right
to try the man by his _own opinion_; accordingly, after a brief
interrogation, he condemned him to die, and without further ceremony
proceeded to put his own sentence into immediate execution.
-----
Footnote 38:
The lieutenant’s brother being a Crown solicitor, had now and then got
the lieutenant to copy the high treason indictments: and he, seeing
there that _imagining_ the death of a _king_ was punished capitally,
very naturally conceived that _wishing_ it was twice as bad as
_supposing_ it: having therefore no doubt that _all_ rebels wished it,
he consequently decided in the tribunal of his own mind to hang every
man who hypothetically and traitorously wished his majesty’s
dissolution, which wish he also conceived was very easily ascertained
by the wisher’s countenance.
A cabinet-maker at Charing Cross some years ago put on his board
“patent coffin-maker to his majesty:” it was considered that though
this was not an _ill-intentioned_, yet it was a very improper mode of
_imagining_ the king’s death, and the board was taken down
accordingly. Lieutenant H—— would surely have hanged him in Ireland.
-----
However, to do the lieutenant justice, his _mode_ was not near so
tedious or painful as that practised by the grand signior, who sometimes
causes the ceremony to be divided into three acts, giving the culprit a
drink of spring water to _refresh_ him between the two first; nor was it
so severe as the burning old women formerly for witchcraft. In fact, the
“walking gallows” was both on a new and simple plan; and after some
kicking and plunging during the operation, never failed to be completely
effectual. The lieutenant being, as before mentioned, of lofty stature,
with broad and strong shoulders, saw no reason why they might not answer
his majesty’s service upon a pinch as well as two posts and a cross-bar
(the more legitimate instrument upon such occasions): and he also
considered that, when a rope was not at hand, there was no good reason
why his own silk cravat (being softer than an ordinary halter, and of
course less calculated to _hurt_ a man) should not be a more merciful
choke-band than that employed by any _Jack Ketch_ in the three kingdoms.
In pursuance of these benevolent intentions, the lieutenant, as a
preliminary step, first knocked down the suspected rebel from County
Kildare, which the weight of mettle in his fist rendered no difficult
achievement. His garters then did duty as handcuffs: and with the aid of
a brawny aide-de-camp (one such always attended him), he pinioned his
victim hand and foot, and then most considerately advised him to pray
for King George, observing that any prayers for his _own_ d—d _popish
soul_ would be only time lost, as his fate in every world (should there
be even a thousand) was decided to all eternity for having imagined the
death of so good a monarch.
During this exhortation, the lieutenant twisted up his long cravat so as
to make a firm, handsome rope, and then expertly sliding it over the
rebel’s neck, secured it there by a double knot, drew the cravat over
his own shoulders, and the aide-de-camp holding up the rebel’s heels,
till he felt him _pretty easy_, the lieutenant with a powerful chuck
drew up the poor devil’s head as high as his own (cheek by jowl), and
began to trot about with his burden like a jolting cart-horse,—the rebel
choking and gulping meanwhile, until he had no further solicitude about
sublunary affairs—when the lieutenant, giving him a parting chuck, just
to make sure that his neck was broken, threw down his load—the personal
assets about which the aide-de-camp made a _present_ of to _himself_.
Now all this proceeding was very pains-taking and ingenious: and yet the
ungrateful government (as Secretary Cook assured me) would have been
better pleased had the execution taken place on timber and with hemp,
according to old formalities.
To be serious:—this story is scarcely credible—yet it is a notorious
fact; and the lieutenant, a few nights afterward, acquired the
_sobriquet_ which forms a head to this sketch, and with which he was
invested by the upper gallery of Crow Street Theatre—nor did he ever get
rid of it to his dying-day.
The above _trotting_ execution (which was humorously related to me by an
eye-witness) took place in the barrack-yard at Kerry House, Stephen’s
Green. The _hangee_ was, I believe, (_as it happened_) in reality a
rebel.
Providence, however, which is said to do “every thing for the best,”
(though some persons who are half starving, and others who think
themselves very unfortunate, will not allow it so much credit,)
determined that Lieutenant H——’s loyalty and merits should meet their
full reward in another sphere—where, being quite out of the reach of all
his enemies, he might enjoy his destiny without envy or interruption. It
therefore, very soon after the rebellion had terminated, took the
lieutenant into its own especial keeping; and despatched a raging fever
to bring him off to the other world, which commission the said fever
duly executed after twenty-one days’ combustion;—and no doubt his ghost
is treated according to its deserts; but nobody having since returned
from those regions to inform us what has actually become of the
lieutenant, it is still a _dead_ secret, and I fancy very few persons in
Ireland have any wish for the opportunity of satisfying their curiosity.
People however give a shrewd guess, that it is _possible_ he may be
employed somewhere else in the very same way wherein he entertained
himself in Ireland; and that after being duly furnished with a tail,
horns, and cloven foot, no spirit could do infernal business better than
the lieutenant.