LEONARD MCNALLY
Thirty years ago I published in 'Notes and Queries'[427] an _exposé_ of
McNally, so far as it could then be done on circumstantial evidence.
His secret letters to the Irish Government were not accessible when I
first touched the subject, but these have become very familiar to me of
late, and it will be seen that all I sought to show is proved by the
revelation of McNally's own testimony. Before I come to these letters,
some of the remarks with which I had long previously prefaced my doubts
may perhaps be allowed to stand.
It is an object with Mr. Froude to show--and evidently as pointing
a moral--that men who posed as the greatest patriots were secretly
betraying the plans of their colleagues. But although Mr. Froude
mentions McNally more than once, it does not appear that he was an
informer. When describing the arrest and death of the Rev. Wm. Jackson
in 1794, he mentions McNally as 'a popular barrister,' and further on
his name is given with that of Curran, Ponsonby, Emmet, and Guinness,
as constituting 'the legal strength of Irish Liberalism.' This remark
is made in connection with an episode told with such dramatic effect
by Mr. Froude that it remains merely for a minor pen to unmask 'the
popular barrister.'
Charles Phillips, although he had made the lives of famous Irish
barristers his study, as shown in 'Curran and his Contemporaries,'
refused to believe any tale to the prejudice of McNally. In the last
edition of his popular book Phillips declares that
The thing is incredible! If I was called upon to point out, next
to Curran, the man most obnoxious to the Government--who most
hated them, and was most hated by them--it would have been Leonard
MacNally--that MacNally, who, amidst the military audience, stood
by Curran's side while he denounced oppression, defied power, and
dared every danger![428]
In this impression he was supported by W. H. Curran, afterwards
judge--a man who, unlike his illustrious father, was of the hardest and
coldest nature. He travelled out of his path, in writing that father's
life, to pronounce a panegyric which is quite a curiosity to exhume:--
Among many endearing traits in this gentleman'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 emotion of the most lively
and respectful gratitude. To Mr. McNally 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 an example of steadfastness in
friendship. For three and forty years Mr. McNally was the friend
of the subject of these pages; and during that long period he
performed the duties of the relation 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 recollection that during their long
intercourse not even an unkind look ever passed between them.[429]
These remarks were elicited by a scene which occurred in Finney's
trial[430] in '98. John Philpot Curran, embracing McNally, said, 'My
old and excellent friend, I have long known and respected the honesty
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.[431] Emotion spread to the Bench, and Judge Chamberlain,
and Baron Smith warmly complimented McNally. Poor Curran! He
loved to recall the past moments so dear
When the sweet pledge of faith was confidingly given,
When the lip spoke in voice of affection sincere,
And the vow was exchanged and recorded in Heaven.[432]
In 1817, when Curran died in England, Burton--afterwards judge--singled
out McNally, as the attached friend of the illustrious dead, to tell
him the sad news.[433]
It does not surprise one that Phillips should have expressed the
scepticism he puts on record. No man was more deeply versed in Bar
traditions. He loved to question its oldest members about their
contemporaries; and amongst all their ana he never heard, as regards
McNally, a dark doubt started. 'Dr. Madden in his "Life of Robert
Emmet,"' writes Phillips, 'broadly states the fact [that he was in
Government pay], but does not give, as he usually does, his grounds for
so stating it.'[434] Madden, replying to Phillips, said, 'I acknowledge
I am ignorant of the time when the pension of 300_l._ was conferred.'
We now know not only the date, but the nature of the service by which
the pension was earned.
Under-Secretary Cooke, in the year 1800, drew up for Castlereagh's
information a confidential memorandum respecting 'Secret Service
Pensions' for those who had given important assistance during the
Rebellion. 'Mac,' for a pension of 300_l._ a year, is the first name
recommended.[435] On the following page, Mr. Cooke--obliged to be
explicit--writes the name _Leonard MacAnally_ in full, with the amount
300_l._ as his annual wages.
Major Sirr was chief of the police system in Dublin. His papers contain
no letters from McNally; but Thomas O'Hara, writing to Sirr on November
11, 1800, proffers his services as a spy, and requests Sirr to address
his answer to 'Leonard McNally, Esq., 20 Harcourt Street, Dublin.'[436]
McNally, irrespective of the knowledge he possessed as counsel for
the rebels, was himself a 'United Irishman.' An organ of that body,
the 'Northern Star,' on March 3, 1797, proudly describes him as such
in connection with the fact that, some days previously, he challenged
and fought Sir Jonah Barrington for having used disparaging language
towards the United Irishmen. In this combat he lost his thumb. The two
Sheareses and Bagenal Harvey--all hanged the following year--escorted
McNally to the ground.
A number of receipts for quarterly payments of Secret Service money
were stolen from Dublin Castle during the thirties, and came to the
hammer at a literary sale-room. Among them is the following:--
Received from William Taylor, Esqr., Seventy-five pounds, due the
25th June last.
J. W.
Endorsed (by Mr. Taylor)--5th July, 1816, 75_l._ L. M‘N.
S. A.[437]
McNally seems to have been the only recipient who was permitted to use
false initials. The handwriting in the above is identical with some
acknowledged autograph lines of Leonard McNally; but 'trifles light as
air' at first encouraged my suspicions. For instance: there appears in
the 'Cornwallis Papers,' some five hundred pages away from the part
which mentions him, a letter signed 'J. W.'[438] The able editor, Mr.
Ross, cannot guess the writer; but the information given deals with
matters arising out of legal proceedings, and thereby points to a
barrister as the spy.
In the same letter,[439] 'J. W.' states that a man named Bird is
determined to 'let the cat out of the bag.' Here it may be observed
in passing, that a pamphlet of the day is entitled 'The Cat let
out of the Bag,' and, though published anonymously, the copy now
before me displays his well known autograph, 'By Leonard McNally,
Barrister-at-law.'[440]
John Pollock was Clerk of the Crown for the Leinster Circuit in 1798.
The Book of Secret Service Money[441] records frequent payments,
through his hands, to 'J. W.' These entries appear from February 16,
1799, to June 16, 1801, when the words 'repaid from pension' are added.
McNally, it will be remembered, received his pension the previous year.
Cooke, in a confidential memorandum for Castlereagh, writes:--
Pollock's services ought to be thought of. He managed Mac----,
and MacGuicken,[442] and did much. He received the place of
Clerk of the Crown and Peace, and he has the fairest right to
indemnification.[443]
Thus we see how weak was the attempt made by McNally's friends to
explain away his secret pension. It was plausibly alleged that
McNally, having been refused a silk gown in 1808, the pension was then
conferred to compensate for his disappointment. So popular was this
barrister, that the refusal of the Crown to give him silk was voted a
grievance. Indeed, so far as outward appearance went, he uniformly took
the popular side on all questions. The Bar meeting, to denounce the
proposed Legislative Union, held on December 9, 1798, includes, among
the patriotic orators, Leonard McNally.
Some of the reasons given by Phillips for refusing to doubt McNally's
patriotism were, that he declined to join the lawyers' corps of
yeomanry in 1798, and that his was the last hand Curran grasped when
leaving Ireland! These waifs and strays only prove how well McNally
played his part. As a successful dramatic author, and one who had been
himself upon the stage, theatrical effect was at all times easy to him.
It is now time to appeal to direct evidence, not until recently
accessible. Mr. Lecky, in examining the archives of the Home Office,
has found record of McNally's fall, and the virtuous historian
describes it as a 'peculiarly shocking one.'[444] It will be remembered
that the Rev. Wm. Jackson, a parson, came to Ireland in 1794 on a
secret mission from France. He was arrested, tried, and sentenced to
death. McNally now found, it is said, that if he did not become an
informer the halter would soon encircle a neck previously dignified by
forensic bands.
Jackson, shortly before his death [Mr. Lecky goes on to say], found
an opportunity of writing four short letters, recommending his
wife and child, and a child who was still unborn, to two or three
friends, and to the care of the French nation, and he also drew up
a will leaving all he possessed to his wife, and entrusting McNally
with the protection of her interests. He wrote at the bottom of it,
'Signed and sealed in presence of my dearest friend, whose heart
and principles ought to recommend him as a worthy citizen--Leonard
McNally.' These precious documents he entrusted, when dying, to his
friend, and about three weeks after the death of Jackson, McNally
placed them in the hands of the Irish Government.
A few days later, Camden sent a copy of them to England, with a
'most secret and confidential letter.' 'The paper which accompanies
this,' he said, 'was delivered to Counsellor McNally, from whom
Government received it. There is so much evidence against this
person, that he is--I am informed--completely in the power of
Government. Your Grace will observe that the care of Mrs. Jackson
is recommended by her husband to the National Convention, and that
Mr. McNally is desired to assist her by every means in his power
to procure her assistance from them. It has occurred to me that
an excuse might be made for Mr. McNally's being allowed to enter
France for the purpose of attending to this woman's fortunes, that
he should go through London, and in case your Grace should wish to
employ him, I would inform you when and where he will be found.'
Portland replied that he was perfectly ready to make use of the
services of McNally in France, if Camden thought that he might be
safely trusted, but he suggested that this was very doubtful. The
control which Government possessed over him depended entirely upon
the conclusive evidence of treason they had against him. Would
that control continue in a foreign country? Camden, on reflection,
agreed that it would not be safe to try the experiment. McNally,
however, he was convinced, would be very useful at home.[445]
Jackson, finding no chance of acquittal, took poison and died, just as
Lord Clonmell was about to sentence him to be hanged. Shortly before
his death in the dock, seeing McNally pass, he grasped his hand and is
said to have whispered, 'We have deceived the Senate!' This was true of
McNally, but Jackson did not suspect him; nor did Curran, or the many
other shrewd scribes who have chronicled the touching incident.
Mr. Lecky thinks that McNally's fall dates only from 1794: my belief
is that he had previously evinced some frailty. In 1790, when counsel
for Lord Sherborne, Beresford Burston accused him of 'doing dirty
work,'[446] and McNally thereupon challenged Burston. Dr. Madden
says that, in 1792, at the time of Napper Tandy's action against the
Viceroy, some of Tandy's legal advisers were suspected of having
disclosed their ingenious case to the Crown. McNally was certainly
counsel in this cause. St. John Mason, brother-in-law of Addis Emmet,
broadly charges McNally with perfidy committed in 1792.[447] Previous
to this date Collins the spy calls McNally 'one of us,' in a secret
letter to the Government agent, Jack Gifford.[448] Who Gifford was is
shown by Curran, who complains to the Chief Secretary for Ireland, that
'Gifford, a note-taker for your Government, had the daring to come up
to me in the street and shake his stick at me.'[449]
Mr. Lecky says that McNally often betrayed to the Crown the line of
defence contemplated by his clients, and other information which he
could only have received in professional confidence, and the Government
archives contain several of his briefs annotated in his own hand. Mr.
Lecky finds that
he was also able, in a manner not less base, to furnish the
Government with early and most authentic evidence about
conspiracies which were forming in France. James Tandy[450] ...
was his intimate friend; McNally, by his means, saw nearly every
letter that arrived from Napper Tandy, and some of those which
came from Rowan and Reynolds. The substance of these letters
was regularly transmitted to the Government, and they sometimes
contained information of much value. Besides this, as a lawyer in
considerable practice, constantly going on circuit, and acquainted
with the leaders of sedition, McNally had excellent opportunities
of knowing the state of the country, and was able to give very
valuable warnings about the prevailing dispositions.[451]
Among the earlier victims to the severe legislation of that time was
Laurence Conner, a poor schoolmaster of Naas, charged with Defenderism,
whose case has been invested with interest by Sir Jonah Barrington,
Dr. Madden, and others. A moving speech from the dock failed to avert
his doom, and his head, for years after, grinned from a stake at the
top of the gaol. McNally, who had defended him, stated in his secret
report to Pelham that a provision had been offered for Conner's family
if he would make discoveries; but his reply was, 'He who feeds the
young ravens in the valley will provide for them!'[452] It is strange
that McNally should report to his employers this chivalrous speech,
which places in marked contrast his own frailty and disgraceful fall.
But corrupt as his heart had now become, he could not help admiring
magnanimity wherever he met it. The man who sought to make Conner
inform was, doubtless, McNally himself, at the instance of Crown
Solicitor Pollock, who, as the 'Cornwallis Papers' record (iii. 120),
'managed Mac.'
This is the man whose name Earl Russell erased from Moore's Diary of
February 27, 1835, leaving merely the initials 'L. McN.,' because some
doubts of his honesty had been expressed postprandially by Plunket, a
man more clear-sighted, it appears, than Charles Phillips. Succeeding
chapters will show Plunket associated with McNally during the State
trials of '98.
Lord Holland amused with my saying how much I used to look up to
this L---- McN---- [writes Moore], on account of some songs in a
successful opera which he wrote, 'Robin Hood.' 'Charming Clorinda'
was one of the songs I used to envy him being the author of.
'Your profession should have taught you principles of honour,' McNally
writes in the piece which first roused the muse of Moore. With such
fine sentiments it must have caused him a struggle to betray. All will
rejoice that he who sang
Let Erin remember the days of old
Ere her faithless sons betrayed her--
escaped the blight of McNally's breath. Moore was the bosom friend of
Emmet, sympathised with the 'cause,' and wrote for the organ of the
United Irishmen. Shortly after '98, however, he entered at the Middle
Temple, London, and saw McNally no more. Plunket told Moore that it was
in a duel McNally received the wound in the hip that lamed him, and on
a subsequent occasion, when he was again going out to fight, a friend
said, 'I'd advise you, Mac, to turn the other hip to him, and who knows
but he may shoot you straight.'[453]
McNally was indeed a brave man. If anyone seemed to doubt him, he
would be called out and probably shot. In early life he practised at
the English Bar. It is recorded in the 'Cyclopædian Magazine,' for
1808, that during the Gordon Riots, when the mob had smashed down the
Bishop of Lincoln's coach, had dragged him out, and were beating him
with bludgeons, McNally, at the risk of his life, rescued Dr. Thurlow,
on whose forehead, he heard them say, they meant to cut the sign
of the cross. This prelate, who somewhat favoured Catholic Relief,
was the brother of Lord Chancellor Thurlow; and the young barrister
may have had an ulterior object in thus exposing himself to danger.
McNally himself evidently supplied the account, of which but a few
details are here borrowed, and we learn that 'the Bishop required, and
received, the address of his protector, but never after acknowledged
the obligation.'[454] Some pamphlets on the Regency struggle, and the
'Claims of Ireland' vindicated on the principles of the English Whigs,
introduced him to Fox, for whom he acted as counsel at an election for
Westminster. 'By whatever right England possesses Liberty,' he said,
'by the same right Ireland may claim it!'
McNally as an orator was declamatory, and at times theatrical. His
outward man has been often caricatured, but John O'Keefe tells us
that he had 'a handsome, expressive countenance, and fine sparkling
dark eyes.'[455] Sir Jonah Barrington recognises the same features.
Contemporary memoirs of him supply a long list of his dramas, farces,
comic operas, touching lyrics, prologues and masques, all produced at
Covent Garden. But when in England he was a genuine, thoroughgoing
Irishman very unlike the sham which he afterwards became; and why
he resigned a dramatic for a forensic career is curiously shown by
'Sylvanus Urban.' The opening of Covent Garden Theatre, on September
23, 1782, was commemorated by a prelude from McNally's pen.
The author, with a partiality to his own countrymen which we know
not how to censure, has drawn the character of an Irishman as one
possessed of qualities which he had rather imprudently denied to
the other persons of the drama--English, Scotch, Welsh, and French.
This circumstance gave offence, and before the conclusion of the
piece the clamour became too great for anything to be heard. It
was, therefore, laid aside.
No name seems to have been more popular with the pit and galleries,
and the admiration of his countrymen for him showed itself in odd
ways. Kemble somewhere describes an Irishman at Drury Lane indignantly
claiming one of Shakespeare's plays for McNally: and when a spectator,
duly challenged, replied that he did not want to dispute the point with
him, his tormentor said, still trying to foster a quarrel, 'but perhaps
you don't believe me?' Again the man received a polite assurance which
seemed quite satisfactory; but five minutes later 'Pat,' observing
Kemble whispering to a companion, came over in an attitude still more
menacing--'Maybe your friend doesn't believe that the play is written
by Leonard McNally?' and to avoid a scene both were glad to decamp.
Those were the days when the voice of national predilection made itself
heard and felt in dramatic criticism. Home scored a success with
'Douglas:' 'and where be your Wully Shakespeare noo?' was shrieked by
some clannish Scots that night. McNally's friends regretted more than
once that he ever left London. A book called 'Five Hundred Celebrated
Authors of Great Britain now living' was published here in 1788,[456]
and it is amusing to find McNally's name included with those of Burke,
Gibbon, Walpole, Crabbe, Burns, Cowper, De Lolme and Mackenzie, who at
the close of a century were helping to educate the minds which were to
adorn its successor.
One day Lord Loughborough, finding McNally ill prepared in a case which
came before the Court, advised him to abandon the Muses and study
Blackstone; but the _cacoëthes scribendi_ burned too strongly within
him to relinquish more cultured pursuits. His 'Sentimental Excursions
to Windsor' appeared, and on rejoining the Irish Bar he produced 'The
Irish Justice of the Peace,' for which 2,500_l._ was paid by Hugh
Fitzpatrick, the Catholic publisher; 'but it contained so much bad
law,' writes Charles Phillips, 'that it proved a treasure not to the
J. P's., but to the country attorneys.' Sadly soon the former had
practical experience of a writ; and Michael Staunton told me, that
if McNally's law points often served culprits, they hanged as many
more.[457] 'In Dublin,' records a contemporary scribe,[458] 'he has now
very considerable law business.'
'He had a shrill, full, good bar voice,' writes Barrington, in
bestowing other praise. Sir Jonah occupied the judgment seat, and was
famous for his power of discerning character; but, although he impugns
the good name of many men, he does not distrust McNally. According to
Barrington, 'Mac' was 'good-natured, hospitable, and talented.'[459]
It is to be feared that hospitality with the popular barrister was
but a means to an end. 'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the
spider to the fly. McNally, in some of his letters to the Government
when requesting money, urges as an extra reason the necessity of
entertaining friends in order to get at new information.
Without money [he writes] it is impossible to do what is expected.
Those Spartans wish to live like Athenians in matters of eating and
drinking. They live so among each other, and without ability to
entertain I cannot live with them, and without living with them I
cannot learn from them.[460]
McNally knew human nature quite as well as Bishop South, who says of
the bacchanal that his 'heart floats upon his lips, and his inmost
thoughts proclaim and write themselves upon his forehead;' and he adds
that, just 'as a liar ought to have a good memory, so a person of guilt
ought to be also a person of great sobriety.'[461] McNally's dinner in
honour of unfortunate 'Parson Jackson' and of the man who shadowed him
to the grave, suggests that it was not the only occasion when death sat
at the table.
In midsummer 1798 the clangour of battle filled the air. 'Fear
prevails, and all jovial intercourse has ceased, so far as my
experience goes,'[462] he writes; but when hostilities ceased,
amenities were renewed.
After he had ceased to produce 'masques' at Covent Garden, and entered
on his new career of a barrister and a spy, one great effort of his
energetic life was to divert suspicion and puzzle posterity. He saw the
wisdom of the proverb, 'Show me your company,' and thus he had a double
object to gain by cultivating touch with patriotic men. In 1790 he was
admitted a Freeman for--as the address to him said--his services to his
country. In 1802 he published 'The Rules of Evidence, or Pleas of the
Crown.' It is dedicated to John Philpot Curran, 'from an affectionate
attachment,' writes McNally,
and from a proud wish to make known to posterity that a reciprocal
and an uninterrupted amity subsisted between the Author and the
man whose transcendent genius and philosophic mind soar above all
competition--whose honest and intrepid heart was never influenced
in the Senate, nor intimidated at the Bar, from exerting, with
zeal, independence, and spirit, his love to his country and his
duty to his client.
The 'authorised' memoir of McNally in the 'Cyclopædian Magazine'
quotes the above, adding, 'The relatives of Mr. Curran may extract from
this dedication an epitaph worthy of his memory.' The whole object of
the memoir, one evidently inspired by McNally himself, is to foster
a feeling of respect for and confidence in his own pretensions. No
wonder that, in the eyes of Young Ireland one hundred years ago, a halo
encircled McNally's head. Some of the spirited efforts which roused
the Muse of Moore and Drennan are found in the organ of the United
Irishmen. The 'Northern Star' of November 10, 1792, contains rebellious
verses signed L. M. N.
Mr. Lecky has not examined McNally's secret reports after the year
1800, and his impression is that he 'did not wish to implicate
"persons."'[463] It would appear, however, on Mr. Lecky's own showing,
that McNally was not squeamish--even during the reign of terror--in
pointing to men by name.
In September and October 1797 he told them [writes Mr. Lecky] that
Bond was the treasurer of the conspiracy; that the chief management
was now transferred from Belfast to Dublin and confined to a
very few; that Keogh, McCormick, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Arthur
O'Connor, Sweetman, Dixon, Chambers, Emmet, Bond, and Jackson were
in the secret.[464]
On February 5, 1797, McNally warns the Government that O'Coigly (hanged
the following year) was in Ireland on a political mission, and reports
the pith of his conversation.[465] 'O'Connor, Macnevin and Lord Edward
Fitzgerald,' he whispers, 'are the advocates of assassination,'[466]
which, indeed, there is great reason to doubt.[467] On November 19
Grattan is put in jeopardy.[468] Next month 'a most circumstantial and
alarming story,' writes Lecky, had come from McNally. 'It was, that
Lord Edward received, some days since, orders from Paris to urge an
insurrection here with all speed, in order to draw troops from England.
In consequence of it, there was a meeting of the head committee, where
he and O'Connor urged immediate measures of vigour;' and thereupon
their plans are laid bare: but how Emmet, Chambers, etc., opposed.
McNally lived in Dominic Street, near the Dominican Fathers. In letters
to Cooke he points to MacMahon and other of his reverend colleagues;
and I learn from the present custodian of the 'Dominican Records' that
Fathers MacMahon, Bushe, and Mulhall were arrested in '98, but at last
suffered to leave Ireland for America. On May 24, 1798, J. W. mentions
that MacMahon had called on him the previous day. But so early as June
14, 1797 the falcon eye of McNally had become fixed on this friar.
He and other priests, he states, meet weekly at Herbert's tavern,
Clontarf. 'Reilly, an officer who served in Germany, is often with
them. Individually, no doubt, they are all concerned in the politics
of the day, and they act when together with a caution certainly
suspicious. Vernon, of Clontarf, offered the waiter 100_l._ to make
discoveries, which he refused.'
'Troy may be up,'[469] McNally reports, meaning that the Catholic
archbishop had been probably enrolled a United Irishman. Henceforth
his Grace's letters were regularly opened at the Post Office.[470]
Minor names are often breathed, and who can doubt that, with the Habeas
Corpus Act suspended, advanced men stood upon the brink of an abyss?
Carhampton, Commander-in-Chief, sent numbers of untried men out of
the country,[471] and threatened to do the same with the Rev. Edward
Berwick,[472] and others. Hundreds were seized on bare suspicion and
expatriated without even knowing their accusers, or hearing the charge
for which they suffered.[473]
The acts of no member of the Directory are more regularly reported
than those of Arthur O'Connor. McNally seems to have been in his
confidence as political ally and legal adviser. In turning over his
letters I met one much more voluminous than the rest, furnishing
a complete list of all the witnesses to appear at Maidstone for
O'Connor's defence, and the facts to which they were prepared to
testify.[474] These witnesses included Erskine, Fox, Grattan, Sheridan,
Whitbread, Lords Moira, Suffolk, Thanet, and Oxford.
Throughout the State Trials men stalked who, as Curran said, measured
their value by the coffins of their victims, and gloom was relieved by
forensic _persiflage_. The duel already described left McNally lame,
and another limping barrister one day asked Parsons in 'the Hall' of
the Court, 'Did you see McNally go this way?' 'I never saw him go any
other way,' was the reply.
Ned Lysaght had his skit, too:--
One leg is short which makes him lame,
Therefore the legs don't tally;
And now, my friends, to tell his name,
'Tis Leonard MacAnally.
He had been urged to join a Volunteer corps; but Curran told him that
serious trouble might result, for, when ordered to 'march,' he would
certainly 'halt.'[475] When writing to Cooke on the subject of the
Lawyers' Corps, J. W., in a secret letter of June 12, 1798, introduces
his real name, no doubt to puzzle outsiders into whose hands it might
fall: 'It would be well perhaps if some of the judges would institute a
Corps of Invalids. McNally might lead blind Moore to battle.'
Mr. Lecky thinks that McNally after his fall 'retained all the good
nature and native kindness of his disposition.'[476] I fear that this
redeeming virtue cannot be safely assigned to him. A careful sketch of
the man appears in a local publication of the year 1806; and we learn
that among his characteristics are--
Satire--oft whetted on ill-nature's stone,
Which spares no other's failings, nor his own.
But well may Leonard wield that branch of trade
Where cunning comes to penetration's aid;
--No logic closer--strong his declamation,
But his best leg is cross-examination.[477]
This, as we now see, was done quite as much in the privacy of his study
as in the forensic arena.
* * * * *
Curran's great speech in Hevey _v._ Sirr contains a passage which has
often been quoted:--
A learned and respected brother barrister had a silver cup; Major
[Sandys] heard that for many years it had borne an inscription
of 'Erin go bragh'--which meant 'Ireland for ever.' The Major
considered this perseverance for such a length of time a forfeiture
of the delinquent vessel. My poor friend was accordingly robbed of
his cup.
This 'learned and respected barrister' was none other than McNally
himself. I have read his secret letter to Cooke on the subject,
endorsed 'June 2, 1798,' and it makes him less a hero than he
would publicly convey. He complains of the seizure of his cup,
notwithstanding that, as he assured his military visitor, he had
already erased the offending inscription. 'Mac,' in conclusion, says
that the cup was value for 22_l._ 10_s._, 'hardly earned,' and encloses
a separate paper distinctly naming that sum as his due. Four days later
he writes to Cooke: 'Major Sandys returned a _sterling_ answer to _my
friend's_ note,' which means a full money remittance for the amount
claimed.[478]
Below we have McNally's version of this transaction, as supplied to
Curran's son for historic and popular purposes:--
A sergeant waited upon him, and delivered a verbal command from
Major Sandys to surrender the cup. Mr. McNally refused, and
commissioned the messenger to carry back such an answer as so
daring a requisition suggested.[479] The sergeant ... respectfully
remonstrated upon the imprudence of provoking Major Sandys. The
consequences soon appeared: the sergeant returned with a body of
soldiers, who paraded before Mr. McNally's door, and were under
orders to proceed to extremities if the cup was not delivered up.
Upon Mr. MacNally's acquainting Lord Kilwarden with the outrage,
the latter burst into tears and, exclaiming that 'his own sideboard
might be the next object of plunder, if such atrocious practices
were not checked,' lost not an instant in procuring the restitution
of the property. The cup was accordingly sent back with the
inscription erased.[480]
Arthur Wolfe, Lord Kilwarden, was the Chief Justice of the King's
Bench, and his alleged intimacy with McNally is probably exaggerated.
The biographer says that Curran repeatedly told this episode of
'98, and quotes a touching peroration regarding Kilwarden's alleged
interposition: that, in fact, great was the odour of its memory and
precious the balm of its consolation!
McNally's account of the robbery of his silver cup was part of his
stock-in-trade, and I am sure that for twenty times the price he would
not have been without it.
William Henry Curran knew not very much of his father, whose biographer
he became. John Philpot Curran had excluded him from his domestic
circle, and the letters to his son which appear in the book were
addressed to Richard. Who can doubt that much detail which lends
interest to the ever popular 'Life, by his Son,' was supplied to the
youth by the practised old scribe Leonard McNally? Curran's gratitude
to him for help afforded is freely expressed. McNally wrote a style
clear as rock water and full of classic strength. Nothing can be finer
than his secret letters to Pelham and Cooke--three of which he often
despatched in one day. The wonderful anecdotes which made Curran's
Life, by his son, almost a classic have been quoted over and over,
including the dinner scene at McNally's, when the ill-fated Rev. Mr.
Jackson was entertained. Curran's son tells how the talk had been
getting imprudent, when the butler, beckoning his master to the door,
warned him to be careful; 'for, sir, the strange gentleman who seems to
be asleep is not so, but listening to everything said: I see his eye
glistening through the fingers with which he is covering his face.'
Cockayne was, of course, a spy of Pitt's; but some of the sensational
anecdotes which McNally told of him, as also of Reynolds and Armstrong,
may have been overcharged to divert suspicion from himself. These are
not the only instances in which the embellishments of the professional
advocate seem traceable. As regards Jackson's death in the dock, we are
told that he made an effort with his cold and nerveless hand to squeeze
McNally's, muttering a quotation from Addison's 'Cato'; but the lines
and the adjuncts would be more likely to occur at such a moment to an
old playwright like McNally than to the dying clergyman.
Emmet's revolt took place on July 23, 1803, but was soon quelled. He
remained in concealment at Harold's Cross, and chose that position in
order that he might see Sarah Curran, with her father, pass daily to
Dublin. On August 25 he was arrested by Major Sirr. Popular confidence
in McNally had now reached its height. A special commission for trying
the insurgent leaders began on August 24, 1803. 'Most of the prisoners
chose Mr. McNally as their counsel, and Mr. L. McNally, junior, as
their agent,' records the 'Evening Post' of the day.
McNally had long had his eye on the gifted young orator Robert Emmet:
'Emmet, junior, gone on business to France--probably to supersede
Lewins,'[481] he writes to Cooke three years previous to the
insurrection of 1803. On September 3, in the latter year, McNally sends
one of his secret letters to Cooke, saying that he is authorised to
treat on behalf of a person privy to the whole conspiracy.[482]
The remainder of McNally's letters during these troubles of 1803 are
yet wanting. No doubt they remain among Wickham's papers of the period
which are still a sealed book.[483] Among the sensational incidents of
the hour was the outrage of searching Curran's house, and the capture
of Emmet's love-letters to Sarah Curran--to whom the youth had been
secretly engaged. Curran himself, we are told, though aware of Emmet's
visits, was ignorant of the attachment. But there was a seemingly dear
old friend, having access to Curran's domestic circle, whose eagle
eye could penetrate still deeper secrets. In the absence of McNally's
private reports of that month there is, however, no absolute proof
against him on this point.
Mount Jerome,[484] the seat of John Keogh, the great Catholic leader,
was also searched, and his papers seized. Dr. Madden mentions that, in
1802, Emmet had dined at Keogh's in the company of John Philpot Curran,
when the probability of success in the event of a second rebellion was
debated with great animation.[485] Whose was the whisper which betrayed
this information never transpired. But Curran, the great depository of
popular secrets, maintained, as will be shown, no reserve with McNally.
So far back as 1797 McNally writes:--
Grattan and Curran are compleatly in the secret. Everything that's
done or intended is communicated to them.[486]
A quantity of information follows, and the letter ends with these
pregnant words:--
Curran gives a dinner at his house. _Will be there._
This is the man whom William Henry Curran describes as having been
'from his youth to his latest hour the most affectionate, unshaken and
disinterested friend' of his father.[487]
Before and after the conviction and death of Robert Emmet, the initials
'L. M.' peep from the 'Secret Service Money Book.' On August 25, 1803
(the very day on which Emmet was captured), we read: 'Mr. Pollock for
L. M., 100_l._' Pollock, Clerk of the Crown for Leinster, is the same
man through whom the bribes for 'J. W.' (McNally) are paid.[488] The
100_l._ cannot have been for the actual capture of Emmet, for I know
that in November following a bulk sum was paid for that service. The
_douceur_ to L. M. was in acknowledgment of useful information.[489]
McNally appears as counsel for Emmet in the State trial on September
19, 1803. Four days previously, namely, on September 14, 100_l._ is
set down to 'L. M.' On the morning of Emmet's execution an affecting
scene took place between the rebel chief and McNally, the only friend
allowed to see him. Emmet's mother had just died, but he did not know
it, and desire to see her filled him--'Then, Robert, you shall meet
her this day,' replied McNally, pointing to Heaven in his accustomed
dramatic style. A long account of the interview, doubtless supplied by
'Mac' himself with his usual itch for writing, and evidently designed
to promote Lord Hardwicke's popularity as Viceroy, appears in a
Ministerial journal, the London 'Chronicle,' on September 24, 1803.
Emmet [we are told] observed that, had he not been interrupted by
the Court in his address, he would have spoken as warm an eulogium
on the candour and moderation of the present Government in this
kingdom as his conception or language were adequate to.
After Emmet's arrest Curran was examined by the Privy Council, when
Chancellor Redesdale sought by a tone of intimidation to extort the
truth; but the scowl of contempt he encountered gave his own nerves the
shock he designed for another's, and made him sink back into his chair,
abashed by the failure of his rash experiment. Curran's son speaks of
the wonderful intrepidity of McNally's language in his addresses to
the Court; but it is easy to be defiant when one knows he is safe.
Contemporary critics record his marvellous power of penetration in
cross-examining witnesses on the State trials. A shrewd man, deep
in the secrets of both sides, would not find it hard to create this
impression.
Lord Cloncurry complains, in his Memoirs, that after his liberation
from gaol in 1801, and for many subsequent years, no man suffered more
from petty worries at the hands of the Irish Government. McNally was
in the coterie of which Cloncurry formed the central figure, and it
cannot be doubted that he consistently reported his fervid sentiments.
The 'Press' was the Rebel organ, its tone distinguished, as Lord Camden
said, by 'an unheard-of boldness,'[490] and a friendly offer made
by Lawless, afterwards Lord Cloncurry, to McNally is thus reported.
After mentioning when the private committee of United Irishmen met,
McNally[491] announces--the underlining his own:--
Lawless, principal proprietor of the 'Press': _he has offered a
share to J. W.[492]--a £50 share_.... Nothing save rebellious
toasts at the dinner; _McNevin was there_. Lawless gave 'Cut the
Painter' [_i.e._ Separation from England].
_An accurate and dayly_ [sic] _account will be given_. Lawless
sails for London to-morrow night. It is his turn of duty,--perhaps
to meet some people at the Head. He ought to be watched from
George's Quay every hour till his return.[493]
A later letter assures Pelham: 'The fellow-travellers of Lawless shall
be found out if possible.'[494]
Higgins and Magan knew nothing of Cloncurry's movements, but between
Turner and McNally he had a warm time of it. Lord Holland compared his
long detention in the Tower, untried and unaccused, to the operation
of the _lettres de cachet_ in old France. In 1803, on secret but, he
declares, erroneous information, that Emmet's wounded rebels were
concealed there, 'a large military force' searched Lord Cloncurry's
house in Kildare, and robbed it of a quantity of papers, some
fowling-pieces, armour, and even plate.'[495]
No details are forthcoming as regards the intercourse which subsisted
between McNally and Cloncurry throughout the eventful period
subsequent to their friendly relations in '98; but the cordiality of
that intercourse may be seen from a waif or two. The 'Correspondent,'
a Dublin journal, reports on August 27, 1817, a speech of the patriot
peer, Cloncurry, in which the epithet 'dear' is applied to his old
friend McNally. 'There is no gentleman,' he adds, 'for whom I have a
higher respect or esteem, and of whose knowledge, talent and elocution
I am more sensible.'
Sometimes McNally travelled as a spy, probably in disguise, through
remote rural districts. On August 28, 1805, he announces Tipperary as
'ready to rise.' In September he goes up the Dublin mountains, 'Emmet's
line,' and the result of his inquiries was that no rising need be
apprehended.[496] I do not find that McNally's secret letters exist at
Dublin Castle beyond the year 1805; I must, therefore, seek to trace
from other sources the close of his career. Pecuniary need drew its
toils tighter round him every day, making him, no doubt, more energetic
in his effort to cast them off.[497]
Readers of the 'Wellington Correspondence' from 1807 to 1809 will
be able to identify McNally. The subjugator of Tippoo Saib, then
Chief Secretary at Dublin Castle, found Catholic Ireland galled by
various disabilities. One letter, dated November 21, 1807, encloses
a paper headed 'Information received this evening from a very
intelligent Priest.'[498] This, on being quoted by the reviewers of the
Wellington Papers, excited disgust that a priest should be in secret
correspondence with Dublin Castle; but it is quite clear to me that
the letter came from McNally, and embodies merely the responses of a
gossiping priest to the pumping of a practised hand--the same, I may
venture to add, to whom McNally, upon dying, will be found making his
own confession.
The Whig Duke of Bedford took office with Fox, Lansdowne, and Grey in
the administration of 'All the Talents,' and ruled Ireland for one
year. Curran became Master of the Rolls, and McNally thought that he
himself, as the leading popular barrister, had claims for promotion.
All the men who will be remembered as voting with him at the bar
meeting in 1799 had got snug berths. His appeal to Bedford was referred
to Wellesley, whose common sense appears in the following reply:--
I agree entirely with you respecting the employment of our
informer. Such a measure would do much mischief. It would disgust
the loyal of all descriptions, at the same time that it would
render useless our private communications with him, as no further
trust would be placed in him by the disloyal. I think that it might
be hinted to him that he would lose much of his profit, if, by
accepting the public employment of Government, he were to lose the
confidence of his party, and consequently the means of giving us
information.[499]
Curiously enough, at the time he is himself most active as a spy, Mr.
T. Mulock, of Dublin, reports him, with Messrs. Hutton and O'Connell,
as persons who 'ought to be watched.'[500] An account of the first
meeting for Repeal of the Union, on September 18, 1810, is preserved in
the State Papers; and McNally spoke on that day 'with great zeal and
patriotism,' as Plowden proudly[501] records. Mr. Mulock had not the
knowledge of character shown by his kinswoman Miss Mulock, the novelist.
Reference has been already made to the fact that in 1811 the Irish
Secretary of State, Wellesley Pole, with the object of suppressing the
Catholic Committee, caused to be arrested, under the Convention Act,
Lord Fingall, Lord Netterville, and the other Catholic delegates. Able
counsel were retained by them, and private conferences, attended by
Burrowes, Johnson, Perrin, O'Connell, Burton, O'Driscoll, and McNally,
were held in order to decide on the lines of defence to be taken. The
questions involved were difficult and subtle; and although the courses
decided upon were equally novel, it was observed with amazement that
the Orange Attorney-General, Saurin, seemed marvellously well prepared
for every point, as the delegates daily fought their ground inch by
inch.[502]
An aggregate meeting of Catholics was held after the arrests of their
delegates. John Mitchel describes the party then in power as a 'No
Popery Administration,' and the appearance of a Protestant on the
platform was hailed as a happy incident. The following is taken from
the 'Correspondent,' a once influential organ of Dublin Castle:--
Mr. McNally offered himself to the consideration of the Catholic
body. He was anxious that his name should be coupled to the
glorious cause for which, as Irishmen, they were contending--a
cause that, from his earliest youth, although a Protestant, he felt
as his own. He insisted that the conduct of the Lord Lieutenant was
illegal--that he had not the power of arresting an individual by
his own mere authority; that, not having the authority, he could
not, of course, delegate it to a Magistrate.--[Here he animadverted
upon the conduct of Mr. Hare, the police magistrate, who made
the arrests.] The King himself, he said, possessed not the power
which the Lord Lieutenant assumed in the arrest of Lords Fingal
and Netterville. He instanced the case of Chief Justice Hussey and
Edward IV.--The King asked the Judge whether his own warrant would
not be deemed sufficient to arrest a subject?--The Chief Justice
answered in the negative. And the reason was obvious. _The King can
do no wrong._--But the subject could have no legal redress against
such an impeccable magistrate. He referred to the State trials for
an exemplification and authority on this point; and he showed that
a power which could not be exercised by Majesty itself, could not
pass through the opaque body of his Lieutenant--a moonshine and
intermitting ray.
O'Connell followed, and the clear head of that great lawyer saved
the Catholic body from the deeper pitfall in which the bad law of a
false adviser would have placed them. In the course of his speech he
declared:--
With regard to what had been said by Mr. McNally he could not
assent. The action of Mr. Hare was merely his own, as a magistrate,
and the Lord Lieutenant had no concern in being responsible for it;
and he [Mr. O'Connell] would not allow in that assembly anything to
be laid to the charge of the Duke of Richmond for which His Grace
was not in every respect accountable.
On October 19, 1811, Wellesley Pole writes from Dublin Castle to the
Home Secretary regarding the proceedings of the Catholic Committee,
and enclosing 'a report from,' as he says, 'one of our spies.' This
document, signed 'J. W.' is still preserved with Pole's letter in the
Record Office, London. About the same time Pole announces to the Home
Office that 'Young Mr. Curran, son of the Master of the Rolls, has been
very active in soliciting from the Catholics subscriptions for Mr.
Finnerty, and letters from persons associated in London for promoting
that object have been addressed to the Catholics here.'[503] These
regular reportings of Curran's domestic circle involve a degree of
treachery painful to contemplate.[504]
The reports of 'J. W.' did not tend to make Curran a favourite with
'the powers.' The patriot's son, describing a prior year, records:--
A party of seventeen soldiers, accompanied by their wives, or their
profligate companions, and by many children, and evidently selected
for the purpose of annoyance, were, without any previous notice,
quartered on Mr. Curran's house.[505]
The late Mr. Byrne, an old Petty Sessions clerk, informed me that when
walking at this time with his cousin Mr. Phelan, an attorney of Liberal
politics, McNally, with a significant wink, accosted him, saying: 'The
people are at last beginning to read; those who cannot yet read have
books and papers read to them; after they read they will think, and
they won't be long thinking until they act.'
On the trial of Sheridan and Kirwan, two Catholic delegates, he spoke
warmly against the sheriff and others tampering with the jury, and was
checked by the bench. He excused himself by saying 'that where the
heart and the understanding went together it was difficult to keep
bounds,' etc. Great excitement prevailed by the effort made to crush
the freedom of speech, in the midst of which Percy Bysshe Shelley came
to Dublin, and largely helped by voice and pen to make the crisis
historic. Mr. Pole declared in Parliament, that 'if gentlemen would
read the debates of the Catholic Committee they would find separation
openly and distinctly recommended.' O'Connell, on February 29, 1812,
replied: 'Why, my lord, this is a direct accusation of high treason,
and he who would assert it of me, I would brand with the foulest
epithets. I defy the slightest proof to be given of its veracity.'
The Duke of Richmond, then Viceroy, writes at great length to the
Home Secretary, speaks of his 'secret information,' and flutters the
Cabinet.[506]
It was during the same year that Roger O'Connor, of Dangan
Castle--father of Feargus, member for Nottingham--headed a band of rude
retainers and robbed the Galway mail coach on Cappagh Hill. Though
somewhat daft, he had method in his system, and when, five years later,
he found himself a prisoner in Newgate, pending the long averted
prosecution, he directed his attorney, named Maguire, to draw up a
fictitious case, including a false line of defence, and lay it before
McNally, taking for granted that he would betray to the Crown the
person he supposed to be his client. The prosecution strangely broke
down, and O'Connor, although notoriously guilty, was acquitted.[507]
This trial took place in 1817: the death of Curran followed soon. A
man named Waring having been indicted for perjury, McNally is found
saying: 'Oppressed by the loss of my earliest friend, I have not
strength for the task. But I wish to repel the stigma thrown out
against my client, though I should die in the trammels.'[508]
The letters of McNally to Curran would be curious to read; 'but,'
writes his daughter-in-law, 'they were destroyed by my late husband
when he became so disgusted by the knowledge of the double face McNally
must have worn for so many years as the _friend_ of his father.'[509]
Although McNally's are destroyed, some characteristic letters from
Curran to him were supplied by the spy to Curran's biographer. It was a
constant effort of McNally to engraft himself on the fame and name of
Curran. A touching document in the romance of real life is the letter
addressed by Curran to McNally in 1810. He exhibits a kind solicitude
for the improved health of his false friend, and alludes to their
future meeting where secrets and sorrow would be no more.
Godwin's, 41, Skinner Street, London.
Dear Mac,-- ... I am glad to hear you are letting yourself out
at Old Orchard; you are certainly unwise in giving up such an
inducement to exercise, and the absolute good of being so often
in good air. I have been talking about your habit without naming
yourself. I am more persuaded that you and Egan[510] are not
sufficiently afraid of weak liquors.[511] I can say from trial how
little pains it costs to correct a bad habit. On the contrary, poor
nature--like an ill-used mistress--is delighted with the return of
our kindness, and is anxious to show her gratitude for that return
by letting us see how well she becomes it.
I am the more solicitous upon this point from having made this
change, which I see will make me waited for in Heaven longer than
perhaps they looked for. If you do not make some pretext for
lingering, you can have no chance of conveying me to the wherry;
and the truth is, I do not like surviving old friends. I am
somewhat inclined to wish for posthumous reputation; and if you
go before me, I shall lose one of the most irreclaimable of my
trumpeters. Therefore, dear Mac, no more water, and keep the other
element, your wind, for the benefit of your friends. I will show my
gratitude as well as I can, by saying handsome things of you to the
saints and angels before you come. Best regards to all with you.
J. P. C.
'Mac' stuck to him like a leech to the end. 'As he walked through the
grounds of his country seat with Mr. McNally,' writes Curran's son, 'he
spoke of the impending event with tranquillity and resignation:--
I melt (said he) and am not
Of stronger earth than others.
'"_I wish it was all over._"'[512]
'Curran's will, which I have in the house,' writes his daughter-in-law,
'is dated September 14th, 1816, and the codicil the 5th September,
1817; it bears the signatures (as witnesses) of Richard Lonergan and
Leonard McNally. Lonergan was editor of 'Carrick's Morning Post,' a
popular organ. The first of a series of papers on the Dublin Theatre,
signed 'L. M. N.,' appears in this journal of December 16, 1817:--
A moral, well-acted play [he writes] is of more real benefit to
Society at large than all the inflated harangues of puritanical
declaimers. To men of letters the drama affords a most delightful
recreation, after their understandings have been absorbed in
perplexities, or their intellectual powers strained by continued
study.
O what a tangled web we weave
When first we practise to deceive.
The elder Farran began his career in Dublin, and McNally's criticism
helped to make it a success. Mrs. Edwin, Miss Walstein, Fullam,
Williams, Young, all were cleverly reviewed. It was not necessary, he
said, for a tragedian to roar like a lion, or for a comedian to grin
as through a horse-collar. Two letters signed 'L. M. N.' espouse the
part of Mrs. Edwin, who had met with some unkindness. The concluding
sentence is characteristic: 'Allow me, madam, to inform you, that while
I continue your Panegyrist, you shall never know me. All old men are
more or less eccentric. I have my whims, and one of them is a dislike
to being thanked for doing what I think to be my duty.'
Friendly relations were established between the popular journalist and
his contributor, but at last they seem a little strained. The paper got
into trouble with a very formidable enemy to popular principles, Jack
Giffard, known as the 'Dog in Office.' The officiousness of McNally, if
he had no deeper design, is shown by Lonergan in a hurried leader of
September 17, 1818--the italics are his:--
MR. JOHN GIFFARD _versus_ THE 'MORNING POST.'
We did not and could not anticipate that an attempt would be made
to induce the Recorder to fix on a day for the trial, so early as
Thursday (this day!). Now, it is certainly not our intention that
one hour's unnecessary delay should take place on the part of the
proprietor of this paper, in meeting the Corporators face to face
in Court, or elsewhere. It was, however, extraordinary, that a day
so very early should be sought for, and that the motion should be
made at a time when we could have no notice of even the Bills being
found! This prosecution, in other respects _unique_, is equally
unprecedented, we believe, in this _extreme_ anxiety to hurry
the business forward. The Recorder did not countenance this very
suspicious haste. Like an upright judge, he guarded the interests
of the absent.
He said it was of little consequence whether a day was fixed or
not, as he supposed the case would be put off until next sessions.
Mr. M‘Nally--'I understand, My Lord, they do not intend to traverse
in _prox_. _Suppose your Lordship says Thursday next._'
Recorder--'No, Mr. M‘Nally. _I cannot fix a day for the trial
of an indictment only just found; especially as there is not any
reason, that I can perceive, for such haste._'
We have made this extract from one of the newspapers. If it be
correct, may we ask Mr. M‘Nally _who instructed him to speak for
us_? We had no counsel or agent present--how then could the worthy
gentleman, with all his shrewdness and sagacity, _understand_ what
was our intention? Mr. M‘Nally, finding that nobody present was
authorised to speak in our behalf, as _amicus curiæ_, we suppose,
states to the Court our intention; but how Mr. M‘Nally discovered
that intention, it puzzles us to find out, for Mr. M‘Nally, with
all his legal knowledge and abilities, is no conjuror. We wait then
to hear from this gentleman by what authority, he, employed on the
other side, in the absence of counsel or agent for the proprietor
of this paper, did undertake to state to the Recorder what were our
intentions? We think the conduct of Mr. M‘Nally, in this instance,
of a piece with the rest of this curious proceeding.
Some legal proceedings are reported by the Dublin papers of September
18, 1818, as having been instituted by the histrions of Crow Street
Theatre for the recovery of their salaries. McNally's swaggering
pretensions to pose as an honourable man are amusingly marked. He was
counsel for the lessee, Frederick W. Jones.
Mr. MacNally--Now, Sir, you suppose your profession to be a very
honourable and gentlemanlike employment--equally respectable with
my own as a barrister. Now, Sir, let me ask you, are you not a
servant?
Mr. Gladstone--Most certainly. I consider myself the servant of
Mr. Jones and the public. But there is higher authority than mine,
for the Lord Chancellor of England declared, at an investigation
of the affairs of Drury-lane Theatre, that all the performers were
servants, and must be paid before any other creditor.
The Lord Mayor instantly ordered Mr. Gladstone his money.
The last important case in which McNally figured was that of the Wild
Goose Lodge murderers at Dundalk. This case, highly tragic in its
nature, has been invested with thrilling interest by the powerful pen
of Carleton.
'From grave to gay' marked his course on circuit. A glimpse of the
'chaff' which followed McNally at mess is shown by Charles Phillips.
It was a common practice with the juniors to play upon his vanity
by inducing him to enumerate the vast sums he made by 'Robin
Hood.' The wicked process was thus. They first got him to fix the
aggregate amount; and then, luring him into details, he invariably,
by third nights and copyright, quintupled the original. Woe to
the wight, however, luckless enough to have been detected in this
waggery. He was ready with his pistol.
Phillips also describes 'Mac' as ever varying in his account of how he
lost his thumbs, and that one night, tired and perplexed by repeated
questioning on the point,[513] he at last exclaimed, 'I don't know how
I lost them!' It seems to me that 'Mac' was too cool and cunning to
trip. Phillips, as a most distinguished co-operator with the Catholic
Board, was a man worth McNally's while to 'draw'; and the hoary-headed
'father,' in encouraging the juniors' chaff, probably feigned features
which he did not possess. We have seen how resolutely incredulous
Phillips stood when the spy's real character was first impugned.
Phillips is remembered by the English bar as a very cunning man. But as
regards McNally's treachery he died unconvinced. The man whose seeming
simplicity he loved to chaff was of deeper acumen. The 'Metropolis,' a
review of the Bar, printed in 1805, indicated among McNally's gifts--
With all he saw or learned his memory fraught
Acute perception of his neighbour's thought.
Phillips seemed to pity the awkward simplicity of his venerable friend;
but it was clearly McNally's game at times to pose as a 'butt,' and
Charles adds no more than the truth in saying, 'his eyes and voice
pierced you through like arrows.'
'Howell' should be consulted by those who care to trace the forensic
career of McNally--
'L' stands for Lysaght, who loves a good joke;
'M' for MacNally, who lives by the rope!
sings 'the Alphabet of the Bar.' But it is McNally's speeches as a
democratic orator, delivered on all great national occasions, in which
he appears to best dramatic effect.
The mission of General d'Evereux to Ireland, with the object of raising
troops for Bolivar--the South American patriot--took place in 1819,
and with it is involved McNally's last important acts of espionage. A
military passion had seized on the popular mind. For many weeks the
streets of Dublin, gay with plumage, reminded one of Paris during the
Napoleonic fever. The city swarmed with stalwart, ruddy youths, clad in
uniforms of green and gold, their swords clanking at every step. Levées
were held by D'Evereux with all the pomp of a court; public banquets
sought to do him honour. At first these things caused alarm at Dublin
Castle; but, finally, it was decided that the statute which forbade
foreign enlistment might be suffered to lie dormant: after all, the
opportunity was not a bad one to rid the land of those military spirits
whose presence could never conduce to its repose. In this connection
Dr. Scallan has something to say:--
The badge of the United Irishmen worn by Lord Edward Fitzgerald,
and taken from his remains when he lay dead in Newgate, was given
by Leonard McNally to General d'Evereux, who recruited a number
of Irishmen and drilled them, and formed a regiment with which he
sailed to Venezuela, and there attacked the Spaniards and drove
them from the country and freed the Venezuelans from the Spanish
yoke, which had grown into an intolerable tyranny. The badge has
attached to it a paper on which is the following inscription:--
'From Leonard MacNally, Barrister at-law, to General d'Evereux of
the Irish Legion, raised by him for emancipating the oppressed
inhabitants of South America, and punishing their Tyrants. 20 July,
1819.'
This presentation would appear to be one of the, no doubt, many
acts of McNally done for the purpose of concealing his perfidy and
gaining his ends.
My father-in-law, Laurence Esmonde White, of Scarnagh, exerted
himself very much in assisting to procure men and officers for
the Legion; and very successfully, as he had much influence with
the people of the County Wexford, in which he always resided, and
where his family had extensive estates. General D'Evereux gave him
several tokens of his gratitude, of which the badge of Lord Edward
was one. He also gave him a deed of gift, witnessed by his military
secretary, of 200,000 acres of land in Venezuela. Which deed I
have; but no one went there to take possession of the land, and it
would seem to be lost through neglect. An old friend of mine (now
deceased) who travelled much in that country, told me that the land
was worth at least 50,000_l._
I never could understand how the badge could have got into the
possession of McNally, until his perfidy was revealed by Mr.
Fitzpatrick. Then all was made clear. He, no doubt, obtained the
badge from his paymasters in order that he might use it as he
did.[514]
During the passage from Dublin to Venezuela dissensions arose among
the officers, and some came back complaining that they had been misled
in the business. D'Evereux returned to justify his conduct, and a
committee, consisting of Lord Cloncurry, with Counsellors Curran,
McNally and Phillips, was appointed to inquire and report.
In 1820 Ireland lost her Grattan.[515] The man who had long shadowed
him vanished at the same time. Catholics may care to know, though they
will hardly attach much importance to the accession, that Leonard
McNally, 'after life's fitful fever,' sank into the bosom of Rome.
Father Smith, of Townsend Street Chapel, on February 13, 1820, gave
him the last rites. This priest, having got word that 'the Counsellor'
wished to see him, went to his house in Harcourt Street, where Mrs.
McNally informed him that her husband was then asleep, and must not be
disturbed. McNally's son, who happened to be coming down stairs at the
moment, reproved his step-mother for the indisposition she evinced to
admit the clergyman, adding, 'Can't you let him go to the devil his own
way?'[516] He then conducted the priest to the sick man's room. Father
Smith put on his stole, and heard muttered from the parched lips of
Leonard McNally a general confession, embracing the frailties of his
youth and the sins of his manhood. Contrition was manifested, and the
priest gave him absolution.[517] Within an hour McNally was dead. In
life he had been no coward, but the death-bed was no place to show old
instincts. His funeral _cortège_ wended its way to the old graveyard
of Donnybrook, where his bones now lie, near those of Dr. Madden, the
historian of the 'United Irishmen.'
McNally had married Miss Janson, the heroine of his famous lyric,
'Sweet lass of Richmond Hill;' but it was his second wife, _née_
Edgeworth, who appeared to Father Smith. The son had acquired a rough
reputation, and having been once robbed near Rathcoole, his father
asked Parsons, 'Did you hear of my son's robbery?' and received for
reply, 'No, whom did he rob?' This son died in 1869, leaving no
representative.[518]
An action was brought by old McNally's administrator regarding the
house in which he died. 'I was present at the trial,' writes 'Rebellion
Smyth,' an aged correspondent. 'Judge Burton gave McNally a high
character for legal learning and worldly simplicity. "In the affairs
of the world" said Burton, "he was as simple as a child."'[519] The
eminent judge for once was mistaken.
Grattan's name has been mentioned by McNally as privy to the plans of
1798. What truth may be in the assertion that Grattan would join in an
appeal to arms is a point which may never be fully determined. It is
certain that in 1782 he would not have hesitated to employ physical
force. His friend Mr.--afterwards Justice--Day records of him that
'Grattan was resolved to assist, even by arms, if driven to it, the
liberties of Ireland.'[520]
Neither Grattan[521] nor Curran were United Irishmen [writes
Macnevin shortly before his death]. It was known in the event of
success Grattan would have accepted an important appointment in the
new Government; but Curran was continually consulted by them, knew
everything that was going on, and his whole heart was in the cause.
FOOTNOTES:
[427] Vide _Notes and Queries_, October 8, 1859.
[428] _Curran and his Contemporaries._
[429] _Life of Curran_, by his Son, i. 384.
[430] McNally had spoken against time for an hour and three-quarters,
as he states in an autograph note. This has been enlarged into 'three
hours and a half' by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie in his _Life of Curran_, p.
228, while professing to quote from McNally's note as given by Thomas
Davis in _Curran's Speeches_, p. 365.
[431] _Life of Curran_, v. i. 397.
[432] From Curran's lines, 'The green spot that blooms on the desert of
life.'
[433] _The Freeman's Journal_, October 13, 1817.
[434] _Curran and his Contemporaries_, p. 376. (Blackwood, 1850.)
[435] _Cornwallis Papers_, iii. 320.
[436] Sirr Papers, MS., Library, Trinity College, Dublin.
[437] Secret Aid. 75_l._ would be a quarter's pay.
[438] Cornwallis, ii. 350.
[439] This letter, signed 'J. W.', speaks of Father Quigley, dressed _à
la militaire_. The _Cyclopædian Magazine_ for 1808 says that McNally
had lived at Bordeaux, and spoke French well (p. 537). The proceedings
of the Whig Club are reported. McNally was a member of this club.
[440] Halliday Collection, Royal Irish Academy, vol. 613.
[441] MS. now in the Library of the Royal Irish Academy.
[442] The attorney for the Ulster United Irishmen (see _ante_, p. 36).
[443] _Cornwallis Papers_, iii. 320. See Appendix to present work for
some account of Mr. John Pollock, who first succeeded in seducing the
once staunch patriot.
[444] Lecky, vii. 139.
[445] Lecky's _England_, vii. 140. (Longmans, 1890.)
[446] _The Grand Juries of Westmeath, from 1727 to 1853_, by J. C.
Lyons, p. 200.
[447] Madden, iii. 37.
[448] This letter reports an early meeting of the rebel conclave, and
is dated March 30, 1792. (MSS., Dublin Castle.)
[449] _Life of Curran_, by his Son.
[450] For a notice of James Tandy, afterwards stipendiary magistrate
for Meath, see Appendix.
[451] Lecky, vii. 141.
[452] Dr. Madden assigns Conner's death to the year 1796, but McNally's
report is dated September 17, 1795.
[453] Moore's _Journal, &c._, vii. 75. Edited by Lord John Russell.
[454] _Cyclopædian Magazine_, 1808, p. 539. A sensational and detailed
account of the rescue, evidently supplied by McNally, is culled from a
contemporary newspaper, and, in response to the present writer, appears
in _Notes and Queries_, of May 19, 1860, p 293.
[455] _Recollections of John O'Keefe_, ii. 45.
[456] McNally's name is amusingly mentioned by the _Saturday Review_
(lxvi. 516) in a paper on the 'Immortals of 1788.'
[457] Mr. Lecky thinks that, had not McNally become a spy, he might
have risen to the judgment seat. This, with the testimony of Phillips
and Staunton before us, is doubtful: but I am bound to say that many
contemporary Irish judges were bad lawyers, who owed their promotion
solely to political claims. Higgins does not seem to have known that
McNally was also a spy. He often reports him to Cooke: 'Counsellor
McNally told me this night at Parisoll's, that Government had offered
a sinecure employment, which he rejected. I offered to hold him 100
guineas that his services were never sought for, which completely put
him down.'--Francis Higgins to Cooke, November 18, 1797. MSS. Dublin
Castle.
[458] _Sketches of Irish Political Characters_, 1799.
[459] _Personal Memoirs._
[460] This passage has been culled by Mr. Lecky.
[461] Sermon on Concealment of Sin.
[462] J. W. to Cooke, June 5, 1798.
[463] Lecky, vii. 142, 401.
[464] All these men, Keogh alone excepted, though never brought to
trial, underwent a prolonged term of imprisonment. Keogh was the highly
influential leader of the Catholics, and the Crown, probably, wished to
make an exception in his favour.
[465] Lecky, vii. 55.
[466] _Ibid._ p. 337.
[467] See O'Connor's letter (_United Irishmen_, ii. 234), saying that
in 1797 he expressed abhorrence of the Union _Star_, which had urged
assassination; whereupon Cox, its editor, instantly discontinued it.
Then, as regards Macnevin and Lord Edward, they are described by
Reinhard as 'of the moderate party.' See the _Castlereagh Papers_, i.
283.
[468] Lecky, p. 423.
[469] _Ibid._ p. 331.
[470] _Ibid._ p. 462.
[471] Plowden's _Historic Review_, ii. 537.
[472] Berwick to Grattan. See _Life of Grattan_, vol. v.
[473] 'Trials, if they must so be called, were carried on without
number, under martial law. It often happened that three officers
composed the court, and that, of the three, two were under age, and
the third an officer of the yeomanry or militia, who had sworn, in
his Orange lodge, eternal hatred to the people over whom he was thus
constituted a judge. Floggings, picketings, death, were the usual
sentences, and these were sometimes commuted into banishment, serving
in the fleet, or transference to a foreign service. Many were sold
at so much per head to the Prussians. Other less legal, but not more
horrible, outrages were daily committed by the different corps under
the command of Government. The subsequent Indemnity Acts deprived
of redress the victims of this widespread cruelty.'--Lord Holland's
_Memoirs of the Whig Party_.
[474] This despatch is dated merely 'Tuesday, 25th'; but a second on
the same subject bears 'April 27, 1798.' (MSS. Dublin Castle.)
[475] In 1810, Sir William Stamer, who seized John Keogh's papers in
1803, gave a masquerade. McNally went as Æsop, but scorned to wear a
mask. Huband, whom he often reports, went as Pan; Dogherty, afterwards
Chief Justice, as Jeremy Diddler; Wolfe, afterwards Chief Baron, as
a hair-dresser; Sir Jonah Barrington as a friar; and 'Doctor Turner'
(no doubt Samuel, LL.D.), as Punch. For a full account, see _Hibernian
Magazine_ for 1810, p. 125.
[476] Lecky's _History of England_, vii. 142.
[477] _The Metropolis_ (Dublin, 1806), p. 43, second edition.
[478] McNally always describes himself, in his secret letters, as 'my
friend.'
[479] Spy as he was, McNally trembled throughout the troubles, and is
not likely to have delivered the defiant reply which he claims to have
done. On May 24, 1798, he describes his family as 'all females--all
live in terror.' He has moved them a short way from Dublin. He hopes
that Cooke's interest will prevent the impending evil of free quarters
on his house. It was astutely felt at Dublin Castle, however, that the
more McNally seemed to suffer persecution for justice sake, the more
freely would popular confidence be reposed in him. On June 27, 1798, he
writes to Cooke, bitterly complaining that his house had been attacked
by soldiers, who refused to respect Castlereagh's protection.'
[480] _Life of Curran_, by his Son, ii. 148-9. Compare Lecky, viii. 24,
where MacNally seems humanely to lament the theft by soldiers, from a
Dublin barrister, of a stand inscribed 'Erin go bragh.'
[481] J. W. (secret), September 19, 1800.
[482] Wickham seems to allude to this fact in the _Colchester
Correspondence_, i. 456.
[483] Mr. Ross, in his preface to the _Cornwallis Papers_, states that
Wickham's papers are destroyed. His grandson tells me that the papers
are safely in his possession.
[484] Now the cemetery at Harold's Cross, Dublin.
[485] Madden's _United Irishmen_, iii. 330.
[486] J. W. to Mr. Secretary Cooke: endorsed 'November 1797.' McNally
adds, of a subsequent Whig Lord Chancellor, on whom he had his eye:
'Geo. Ponsonby is not of the private meetings at Grattan's or Curran's.'
[487] _Life of Curran_, by his Son, ii. 385.
[488] The same manuscript further records, under the respective dates,
March 16, 1803, and November 26, 1803, two sums of 100_l._ each, paid
to 'J. W.'
[489] Mr. W. B. Kelly, who held the copyright of a book of mine called
_The Sham Squire_, got it reprinted in Edinburgh many years ago. I had
no opportunity for revising the proofs, and I am anxious to correct
the strange misprint at p. 250, of '1,000_l._' instead of '100_l._'
to McNally. The original edition, at the same page, states the amount
correctly.
[490] Camden to Portland, December 2, 1797.
[491] Most of McNally's letters are endorsed by Cooke. This is marked
by Pelham, 'November 8, 1797.'
[492] McNally himself.
[493] Cloncurry did not see Ireland again until his liberation from the
Tower. The object of his mission to England was mere surmise. Pelham
assumes that he carried a despatch to the French Republic (Froude,
iii. 287); but Cloncurry, ignorant of the above letters, tells his law
adviser: 'No papers on politics were found on me, for I never had such'
(_Memoirs_, p. 138). Previously, he casually mentions that his father
'insisted upon my going to London to keep my terms at the Temple, which
I accordingly did _in November_, 1797,' the very date of McNally's
letter. (_Memoirs of Lord Cloncurry_, p. 57.)
[494] Endorsed, 'M. secret. November.'
[495] _Personal Recollections of Lord Cloncurry_, p. 219.
[496] Not one of McNally's letters is dated beyond the day of the week;
but many have a correct date endorsed. Some conjectural dates, supplied
in late years by an official pencil, are often wrong.
[497] In 1807-8 he appears as a defendant in several judgments 'marked'
by the King's Bench. To Benjamin Bradley, 38_l._ 4_s._ 9_d._; to
Thomas Shaw, 56_l._; to the administrators of Hatch, and others; and
the search, if continued, would show the same results in after years.
Curran frequently accommodated him, as well as William Godwin and
others.
[498] _Wellington Correspondence (Ireland)_, p. 192.
[499] _Wellington Correspondence (Ireland)_, pp. 99-100.
[500] Ireland, 1810, August to December, No. 648, State Paper Office.
[501] _History of Ireland since the Union_, by Francis Plowden, iii.
896.
[502] The late Michael Staunton to W. J. F.
[503] Ireland, 1811, January to June, No. 652. Peter Finnerty, who, in
1798, had been pilloried as editor of the _Press_, was now (1811) in
Lincoln Gaol for a libel on Lord Castlereagh.
[504] Mr. Lecky thinks that, so early as 1795, McNally reported to the
Government a secret conference of Curran and Grattan. _Hist._ vii. 145.
[505] _Life of Curran_, i. 147.
[506] These papers are exclusively quoted in the _Correspondence of
Daniel O'Connell_ (edited by W. J. F.), ii. 420.
[507] For details, see _Ireland before the Union_, p. 8. (Dublin:
Duffy.)
[508] _The Correspondent_, November 4, 1817.
[509] Letter of Mrs. John Philpot Curran, dated 'The Priory,
Rathfarnham, September 14, 1872.'
[510] John Egan, a member of the Irish Parliament, lost a judicial
office he held by voting against the Union, and died in poverty. A
staunch patriot to the end, he belonged to the set which numbered
Curran and McNally. Curran's first acquaintance with him was in an
affair of honour. Egan, a large man, complained of the great advantage
which Curran's diminutive figure gave him. 'I scorn to take any
advantage of you, whatever,' replied Curran. 'Let my size be chalked
out on your side, and I am quite content that every shot which hits
outside that mark should go for nothing.'
[511] It is a question whether 'Mac,' in society, drank as much as he
may have pretended to do. See _ante_, p. 185.
[512] _Life of Curran_, 1820, ii. 380. Italics in original.
[513] He seems not to have been so badly maimed as he gave Phillips to
believe. John P. Prendergast, a nonagenarian, remembers McNally saying
at the Trim Assizes in 1817, 'I have a finger and thumb to tweak the
nose of any man who dares to question my acts.' Luckily the present
writer did not live in those days. How one thumb went, see p. 177.
[514] Letter of J. J. Scallan, Esq., M.D., to the author. Black Rock,
April 23, 1890. The Doctor may not be quite right in his assumption.
[515] Mr. Lecky says that 'McNally had specially good opportunities of
learning the sentiments of Grattan' (vii. 281). Grattan died May 14;
McNally on February 13.
[516] Rev. John Kearney, P.P., St. Catherine's, to the author, February
10, 1860.
[517] McNally and Father Smith seem to have been old chums. So far
back as 1805, 'J. W.' writes, in one of his undated letters: 'Smith,
the priest whom I have before mentioned, informed me last night that a
person arrived here from France within these few days. The intelligence
he brings is an assurance of a Descent by the French, and that the
Fleet is now in the Atlantic with this object. I do not give credence
to his Information. I found it impossible to extract particulars or
names, but I am to see him to-morrow (Sunday).'
Smith, suspecting McNally to be a spy, is likely to have charged his
news with sensationalism, and 'Mac,' no doubt, found him useful as
a scout. That he was an open-mouthed gossiping man, his account of
his very solemn mission to the death-bed of the spy shows. He never
received promotion, and in the end became so deaf that when officiating
in his confessional he always reiterated audibly the character of
the sin disclosed, so as to be sure he heard it correctly, and the
result was very painful embarrassment to such neighbouring worshippers
as could not fail to become _en rapport_ with the conscience of the
penitent. Compare _Wellington Correspondence (Ireland)_, pp. 192-3,
and the 'Information of a Priest regarding threatened Invasion.'
[518] Lyons, in his _Grand Juries of Westmeath_, records,
deprecatingly, that Leonard McNally's people were engaged in trade;
but, according to their tombstone at Donnybrook, they once owned the
castle and lands of Rahobeth. Like other Irish gentry of the proscribed
faith, they sank during penal times, and the name of Leonard McNally
is found in the official list of 'Papists' who 'conformed' early in
the reign of George III. How this came about is traceable in Sheil's
notice of McNally in 1820: 'His grandfather made a very considerable
personal property, which he laid out in building in Dublin; but having
taken leases liable to the discovery of this property, in consequence
of a bill under the popish laws, he was stripped of it. His father died
when he was an infant, at which time the bill of discovery was filed,
and little attention was paid to his education.' The 'will of Leonard
McNally, Dublin, merchant,' who died in 1756, is preserved at the
Record Office.
[519] William Smith, B.L., died at Torquay, April 29, 1876.
[520] See _Life of Grattan_, by his Son, ii. 272.
[521] One of the more voluminous of the secret reports signed 'J. W.'
is dated March 24, 1797, and details twenty-three propositions of a
plan, through which the United Irishmen were to act with Grattan. The
proceedings took place at a meeting at Chambers's, one of the Rebel
Directory. (MSS. Dublin Castle.)