United Irishmen. Trinity College.

Chapter XII.

The Visitation of 1798 - United Irishmen - James Farrell

Expulsion of Power and Ardagh - Cause of the Visitation - Its Proceedings - Lord Clare - Dr. Brown - Dr. Stokes - Its Effects - Sketch of Farrell - of Corbett.

A visitation was held in Trinity College shortly before the outbreak of the rebellion in 1798, for the purpose of investigating and punishing treasonable associations existing in the college. This visitation was one of the most important ever held in the university, and it ended in the expulsion of no less than 19 members of the college. But, perhaps, the most extraordinary circumstance connected with it was that the searching investigation failed in discovering, or even affording the least clue to discover, the authors of the act which was the immediate cause of its being held. We have been favoured with the posthumous manuscript of a gentleman who was himself a witness and an actor in some of the stirring events which took place at that stirring period, from which we extract the following curious particulars. We have omitted the mention of a few names and allusions to living persons, which might possibly be painful to them.

I entered college in the year 1791, a year rendered memorable by the institution of the society of the United Irishmen. They held their meetings in an obscure passage called Back-lane, leading from Corn-market to Nicholas-street. The very aspect of the place seemed to render it adapted for cherishing a conspiracy. It was in the locality where the tailors, skinners, and curriers held their guilds, and was the region of the operative democracy. I one evening proceeded from college, and found out Back-lane, and, having inquired for the place of meeting, a house was pointed out to me, that had been the hall in which the corporation of tailors held their assemblies. I walked up without hesitation - no one forbidding me - and found the society in full debate, the Hon. Simon Butler in the chair. I saw there, for the first time, the men with the three names, which were now become so familiar to the people of Dublin - Theobald Wolfe Tone, James Napper Tandy, and Archibald Hamilton Rowan.

The first was a slight, effeminate-looking man, with a hatchet face, a long aquiline nose, rather handsome and genteel-looking, with lank, straight hair combed down on his sickly red cheek, exhibiting a face the most insignificant and mindless that could be imagined His mode of speaking was in correspondence with his face and person. It was polite and gentlemanly, but totally devoid of anything like energy or rigour. I set him down as a worthy, good-natured, flimsy man, in whom there was no harm, and as the least likely person in the world to do mischief to the state.

Tandy was the very opposite looking character. He was the ugliest man I ever gazed on. He had a dark, yellow, truculent-looking countenance, a long, drooping nose, rather sharpened at the point, and the muscles of his face formed two cords at each side of it. He had a remarkable hanging-down look, and an occasional twitching or convulsive motion of his nose and mouth, as if he was snapping at something on the side of him while he was speaking.

Not so Hamilton Rowan. I thought him not only the most handsome, but the largest man I had ever seen. Tone and Tandy looked like pigmies beside him. His ample and capacious forehead seemed the seat of thought and energy: while with such an external to make him feared, he had a courtesy of manner that excited love and confidence. He held in his hand a large stick, and was accompanied by a large dog.

I had not been long standing on the floor, looking at and absorbed in the persons about me, when I was perceived, and a whisper ran round the room. Some one went up to the president, then turned round and pointed to me. The president immediately rose, and called out that there was a stranger in the room. Two members advanced, and taking me under the arm, led me up to the president’s chair, and there I stood to await the penalty of my unauthorized intrusion. I underwent an examination; and it was evident from the questions, that my entrance was not accredited, but that I was suspected as a Government spy. The “battalion of testimony,” as it was called, was already formed, and I was supposed to be one of the corps. I, however, gave a full and true account of myself; which was fortunately confirmed by a member who knew something about me, and was ultimately pronounced a harmless “gib,” and admitted to the honour of the sitting.

I soon after became acquainted with a person named Farrell, who assiduously sought my society. He was the son of a poor man, but showed an early disposition to learn, and was distinguished at the hedge-school at which he was educated as a boy of more intelligence than his school-fellows. The priests of the chapel belonging to his parish had noticed him, as priests generally do children who display any superiority of intellect. They were amused by his unusual precocity, dressed him in a surplice, furnished him with a censer for incense, and appointed him one of the acolytes who attend the officiating priest at the celebration of the Mass. He was apparently so attached to his employment, that his clerical friends had determined to have him instructed for the priesthood, to which it was hoped he would prove an ornament. His conduct, however, did not turn out to be as good as had been expected. The result was, that he was ignominiously thrust forth, and cast off for ever from the protection of the chapel. He afterwards became a confirmed sceptic.

He came to Dublin, obtained the place of foreman to a woollen-draper, and began to mix with the society of his class. He was strongly seamed with the small-pox, and had a very black, bristly beard, and a long, remarkable nose; and, from the roughness of his aspect, he. was generally known by the name of “Rugged Muzzle.” But he afterwards acquired another title. One evening, coming home from a party, a girl, rather above his then rank in society, took his arm. Elated by this extraordinary and unexpected condescension, he exclaimed in ecstacy, “Oh, tundher!” and thus obtained a sobriquet which was ever after attached to him.

He had imbibed the wildest notions of French democracy, as well as infidelity. Among other schemes presented to his excited imagination, was the certainty of an Irish republic under the protection of France. He constantly contemplated a provisional government to receive the various plans of new constitutions submitted for their selection. As he did not think he was quite equal to form a constitution himself, he used to consult me, who, being a man with a college education, for which he had a high respect, he thought must be competent to any exertion of mind, whether in politics or literature. To gratify his oddity, 1 drew up for him a variety of constitutions, which he actually contemplated presenting to the provisional government when established.

Revolutionary principles began to spread in college, and an incident happened which excited much indignation, even among the most loyal. A little previous to the departure of the highly unpopular Lord Camden from the viceroyalty of Ireland, it was announced that the college, in their corporate capacity, intended to proceed to the Castle, and present an address to him. All the fellows and scholars, as members of the corporation, were specially summoned to attend, and generally obeyed the notice.

Two scholars, named Power and Ardagh, absented themselves, and, when cited before the board, made some trifling excuses. One said he had no gown at the time and could not borrow one; the other, that he was preparing his lecture and thought it a more important occupation. It appeared, however, that the board had received some secret information that their absence was caused by disaffection, and that they were connected with secret treasonable societies then reported to exist in college.

It was thought necessary to make an example; so Power and Ardagh were publicly expelled. There had been a difference of opinion on this measure at the board. Dr. Browne, a senior fellow and member for the university in Parliament, not only dissented from the severe measure adopted by the board, but was so indiscreet as to mention his dissent to some of the students, as he came out of the board-room. Greater importance was attached to this circumstance at that time, for the proceedings of the board were then kept profoundly secret.

The two men expelled were of good character, acknowledged talent, and popular manners. Their case excited much sympathy. The expulsion was considered a very harsh measure, altogether disproportioned to the declared offence, and was generally much condemned, During this ebullition of collegiate feeling, my extern friend, O’Tundher, came to my rooms. He could hardly speak with rage. When his indignation a little subsided, he proposed that he and I should form a committee, and, in the name of more, express our sentiments on the occasion. The proposal amused me, so I sent to the cellar for some “October” - a beverage of which he was fond-and, under its influence, we drew out what we called the resolutions of “The Independent Scholars and Students of Trinity College, Dublin.”

When we had read and criticised the precious document, I threw it on the table, supposing it would lie there, like the embryo constitutions we had drawn up for the provisional government and like them have no more important result than the entertainment of the hour.

A short time after, a notice appeared on the college gate, announcing a visitation to be held on Thursday, April 19, 1798, enjoining the attendance, without fail, of all the members of the university. I was reading it when my friend, O’Tundher, passed out. He held down his head, but cast at me a significant glance of intelligence under his eye, and holding his middle finger against his thumb, he cracked them with the forefinger, making a report like the lashing of a whip - a mode he had of expressing more than usual glee and satisfaction.

Immediately afterwards I met a lad named E---. He came up to me in great apparent tribulation, and asked me if I knew the cause of the visitation. I declared with truth I did not know it. He began to express himself with great anxiety, and with a confidence altogether gratuitous and unsought on my part; telling me he was deeply compromised and in hourly expectation of being arrested. He expected some confidential communication in return, and was much disappointed when I declared I had no cause of apprehension, and left him, repeating, “let the galled jade wince, my withers are unwrung.” In fact, I had abstained carefully from mixing myself with parties, and felt a perfect security from any charge, or even suspicion. I afterwards had reason to believe my reserve towards E--- was most fortunate.

On the day of the visitation we all assembled in the hall. Lord Clare, as vice-chancellor of the university, sat as the acting visitor, with Dr. Duigenan as his assessor, on an elevated platform at the upper end of the dining-hall. Then followed in order the provost, senior and junior fellows, and scholars, as members of the corporation; then the graduate and undergraduate students; and, lastly, the inferior officers and porters of the college. The great door was closed with a portentous sound, and shut in many an anxious heart. I felt mine, however, quite free from care or apprehension.

Those who have seen Lord Clare in his visitorial capacity never will forget him - the hatchet sharpness of his countenance, the oblique glance of his eye, which seemed to read what was passing in the mind of him to whom it was directed. Silence was commanded, and the multitude was still. The vice-chancellor then said:

“The prevalent reports respecting the state of the university had induced the visitors to inquire whether the disaffection imputed to the college was founded in reality, or was a mere rumour or surmise. Appointed to the high office of superintending the conduct and promoting the welfare of that college, he should neglect an important duty if he were to suffer it to continue stained with the infamous imputation of disaffection and rebellion, if unfounded, or permit any guilty member thereof to poison and destroy the prospects of the uninfected. His duty, therefore, to what he considered the happiness of the students, without referring to the more general consequences to society, from the lettered portion of the rising generation cherishing and acting on those devastating principles, which had destroyed the peace, and almost annihilated the moral; of Europe, indispensably required of him to investigate and suppress any serious disorders. He found great probability had been given to the reports in circulation by a rebellious publication, purporting to be the resolution of the independent scholars and students of the university, and it behoved all who heard him to acquit themselves of any concern therein. Such members as acted with want of candour, and refused to exonerate themselves from the treasonable charge made against the university, and which the abominable paper he held in his hand so much warranted, he was determined to remove, and adopt the necessary measures to prevent them from contaminating the youth of the several colleges in England and Scotland, by representing to the governors of them their dangerous principles, and so excluding them from admission. In one of those secret societies, the formation of which he knew of in college, a system of assassination had been recommended, and a proposal made to collect arms.

The first proposal was considered, but adjourned to the next meeting, when it was negatived by a small majority. The second was carried, and acted on.

He concluded by a declaration of his intention to punish with severity the encouragers and abettors of sedition and treason, and more especially the miscreant authors of that wicked paper, whom he was determined to detect and punish. It had not only been thrown into every letter-box in college, but audaciously flung at his own head, in his house, by way of menace and defiance.”

He read the “infamous” paper, and, to my utter horror and dismay, it proved to be my own “Resolutions!” I was at the time standing close to him. My seniority had placed me near that end of the hall, but my curiosity and the crowd behind had pushed me even higher than I was entitled to by my standing; and, when he held the paper in his hand and waved it in a threatening manner, he actually seemed to shake it in my face, and fix his eye intently on me as the detected victim.

It is impossible to describe my feelings of astonishment at my own indiscretion, or my apprehension of the consequences. I had no more notion that the resolutions we had framed would ever see the light than that the constitutions we had drawn up would be adopted by the provisional government. I saw myself at once entangled in an awful responsibility, which might compromise my life, and I had not even the support of enthusiasm or participation in what some think a noble cause. I had been fabricating a falsehood without foundation, in which I actually felt neither interest nor concern, and was in danger of suffering the penalty of a traitor, without having the least connection with the treason.

When I contemplated the number it might implicate in suspicion, and the confusion and misery it might cause, I felt as if I had pulled down the pillars of the earth and the fragments were falling on my head.

When I recovered a little from the first stun of surprise, I attempted to converse with the person next me, as if to show my unconcern, but literally vox faucibus heasit, my mouth was so dry I could not utter a syllable.

It next rushed into my mind to escape from the hall; but I saw at once that this would surely cause suspicion. Once it occurred to me to anticipate discovery, and avail myself of the lenity which the visitors had intimated would be extended to those who confessed their faults and abjured their errors - to acknowledge my share in the authorship, and make a merit of confessing a thing, the detection of which I thought must he immediate and inevitable.

But my final and enduring determination was to “bide my time,” and bear up, as I best could, against all consequences.

The roll was now called of all the names on the college books, beginning with the provost. Several excuses were offered for absence, some few of which were admitted; but in almost every case personal attendance was insisted on. Among the absent was Robert Emmet, for whom his tutor pleaded hard, but without effect. He was set down as contumacious.

When the examination of individuals commenced, each person, when called on, was first sworn to discover all matters as to which he should be questioned. The provost was the first examined. Among other questions, he was asked if the copy of that paper which had been “hurled at” the chancellor had been sent to him. He replied that it had, and by the same conveyance - the penny post. He was also interrogated with respect to the proceedings of the board in the expulsion of Power and Ardagh, and the number and description of the votes given on the occasion.

The examination then proceeded through the senior fellows, till it came down to Dr. Browne. He was, as I have mentioned, a member of the board, and represented the college in parliament. His politics were in the extreme of liberality, and therefore he was an object of peculiar suspicion. He was questioned touching his vote at the board in the case of Ardagh and Power. He acknowledged he opposed their expulsion and voted for rustication during a year, and stated that there were two other members of the board who voted with him. He admitted that he had gone from the board into the college court, and there declared the vote he had given, and said he did so because he thought it was right. The vice-chancellor declared that the conduct of Dr. Browne was highly reprehensible; that it promoted a spirit of insubordination among the students, by exciting discontent against the proceedings of the board, which it was his duty to recommend as just and proper; and that if the board had thought fit to expel him for such conduct, he would have confirmed the expulsion. Dr. Browne was also asked if he was the author of that paper; and when he denied it in a most earnest manner, he was asked did he know any person who was its author, or had any connection with it. He, of course, declared he did not.

Dr. Whitley Stokes, then a junior fellow, was next called on. The vice—chancellor, eyeing him with a stern countenance, and with the confidence of a person who was sure of his man, asked him, in an emphatic manner if be knew of United Irish societies existing in college. Stokes answered, decidedly, “No.” The vice-chancellor looked much amazed by the unexpected repulse, and a slight murmur of surprise ran through the hall.

The paper was held out to Stokes, and, in a similar manner, he was asked if he knew anything of the authorship of it; and in a similar manner, to the surprise of all (except myself), he denied all knowledge of it or its authors. The exceeding candour of Stokes, and his known love of truth, induced all to believe that he would at once declare whatever he knew, when asked, and many thought that he knew much. He was then asked if he knew anything of secret or illegal societies in college. He answered promptly, and without hesitation, that he did. He was then called on to explain and declare what they were.

“The only societies of that description which I ant aware of,” said he, “are Orange societies, and I know some members of them.”

If the chancellor had been struck a violent blow, he could not have shown more surprise and indignation. He actually started on his seat at the audacious sincerity of this simple-minded man, and another murmur ran through the hall.

A long examination ensued, during which Dr. Stokes answered the questions put to him in a quiet and dignified manner, and with perfect candour and simplicity, he admitted that he had been a member of the society of United Irishmen before the year 1792, when their views were confined to legitimate objects; but stated that he was wholly unconnected with them ever since that time.

He admitted that he had since that time subscribed money to their funds, but added that it was merely to supply the necessities of individuals, Butler and Bond, who were in prison. He had, he said, received some account of serious injuries inflicted on a village by the soldiery, which he communicated to Mr. Sampson, a United Irishman, as materials for Lord Moira’s information, on his motion in the House of Lords, but had previously made a communication to his excellency the Lord Lieutenant.

He admitted he had visited a man who was a treasonable character, but he did so as a professional duty, as the man was very poor and sick; and he had always brought with him a third person, to be present, lest there should be any misrepresentation of his motives. He added, that when the French invaded this country, and their fleets were lying off the shore, he went among the Roman Catholics of the city of Dublin, exciting them to take up arms against the common enemy.

“This, my lord,” said Stokes, in an emphatic manner, “was not the conduct of a disaffected man, nor of one entertaining those principles with which this examination appears to try to connect me.”

A Mr. Kerns, a pupil of Dr. Stokes, stood forward and earnestly defended his tutor. He said that temptations had been held out to him to join treasonable societies, and had so far succeeded as to induce him to withdraw his name from the college corps; but, in consequence of the advice and earnest persuasion of Dr. Stokes, he had withdrawn himself from the society of the disaffected, and replaced his name in his company; and that he was not the only person so advised by Dr. Stokes, but that, to his knowledge, several others had been equally influenced in the same way by his persuasion.

Dr. Graves, with similar earnestness and zeal, bore testimony to Stokes’s character. He said that atheism and republicanism were uniformly connected at that time, but that he had the strongest proof, from his writings, that Dr. Stokes was tainted with neither the one nor the other. When Paine’s “Age of Reason” first appeared, the earliest and best answer to it was from the pen of Dr. Stokes. His work was dedicated to the students of Trinity College, and was published without any view to pecuniary profit by Dr. Stokes, who gratuitously made earnest and indefatigable exertions to disseminate it among the junior members of the university.

Many others tended their testimony in favour of a man so much loved and respected; and the vice-chancellor said he was happy to find so many respectable and disinterested witnesses standing forward in Dr. Stokes’s favour, and that he was now convinced be was a well-meaning man, but had been led into great indiscretions.

The examination proceeded among the scholars and students. The most lengthy was the examination of a man named Robinson. When pressed with questions, he admitted that he had lent his rooms on a particular day, but was not aware of the purpose for which they were borrowed. He, however, at last confessed that he was aware that the meeting to be held there was of a disaffected nature. He hesitated and wavered much when pressed by the chancellor’s and Duigenan’s questions.

A growing disposition was soon manifested to decline taking the oath of discovery in the unqualified form in which it had been at first administered. Of those called on, some declared they were ready to swear as to themselves, and purge their character by an oath from any charge or suspicion of disaffection, but would not swear to inform against or implicate others by answering all questions put to them.

Others declined being sworn, because, as they said, it would be an example subversive of the best acknowledged principles of the English law, and of justice, to swear to tell what might criminate themselves. The first day closed with about 50 recusants, who declined to take the oath, and were marked for expulsion as contumacious.

On the second day of the visitation, the chancellor found it necessary to modify the examination in such a way as to give the recusants an opportunity of redeeming their contumacy. He indicated what would be the awful state of the university if so large a proportion of its members should appear to be implicated in the conspiracy; and he explained that the visitation was a domestic court, in which the students formed members of a family, and that the authority exercised was merely parental; that the same oath was administered to all-to the provost himself, and to the youngest student-and was always accompanied by an injunction not to criminate themselves. The chancellor also intimated that if any persons would come forward and confess their own errors, without reference to others, and promise to separate themselves altogether from their imprudent and dangerous connections, the past should be forgiven and forgotten.

Among those who at first refused to take the oath was Thomas Moore. He was then an undergraduate in college, and already distinguished by the early and juvenile indications of his poetic talents. The scene was amusing. The book was presented to him. He shook his head and declined to take it. It was thrust into his right hand. He hastily withdrew the hand, as if he was afraid of its being infected by the touch, and placed it out of the way behind his back. It was then presented to his left hand, which he also withdrew, and held behind his back with his right. Still the persevering book was thrust upon him, and still he refused, bowing and retreating, with his hands behind him, till he was stopped by the wall. He afterwards, however, took the oath, as modified by the explanation, acquitted himself of all knowledge of treasonable practices or societies in college, and was dismissed without further question.

Influenced by the visitor’s explanation, many who had been contumacious came forward and confessed their errors. In a few instances the names of the persons implicated were insisted on; but for the most part, the information was given in such a general way as would assist in suppressing the evil of disaffection, without compromising individuals. It appeared that there were four committees of United Irishmen in college, the secretaries to which were said to be Robert Emmet, M’Laughlin, Flynn, and Corbett, junior.

In the course of the second day, Dr. Browne made an earnest and deprecating appeal to the visitors, in explanation of his conduct, declaring that their condemnation of it would embitter his future life. The vice-chancellor expressed himself satisfied that, had Dr. Browne known the entire extent of the revolutionary practices to which some members of the college had proceeded, he would have taken every means for their suppression, and not have proclaimed his vote and dissent from the salutary measures of the board; and that his doing so. arose from his total ignorance of the dangerous situation of the university.

Browne expressed strongly his contrition for his conduct, and with a servility little according with the independent spirit he was supposed to possess, humbled himself before the vice-chancellor, declaring his deep sorrow for having incurred the censure of the visitors.

At the conclusion of the visitation the chancellor adverted to the ease of Dr. Stokes. He declared himself gratified to find that the rumour of an eminent member of the university having been connected with a treasonable association was entirely refuted; but, nevertheless, as he had been drawn into a communication with persons who were inimically disposed to the government of the country, he thought it his duty to prevent him from becoming a governing member of the university for the space of three years, which would be the period until the next visitation. During this suspension, it would be seen whether that gentleman had wholly withdrawn himself from the dangerous and improper connections in which he had been indiscreetly entangled.

He expressed himself gratified at being able to bear testimony to the general good conduct of the youth of the university. He reiterated his assurance that he had positive information of the existence of societies where assassination was canvassed and arms collected, and which he pledged himself he would have been able to prove, had those who contumaciously absented themselves, or refused to be examined, submitted. He expressed his concern at the duty imposed on him of using severity against the few who had acted with determined obstinacy, or were committed by acts of sedition and treason. He then presented 19 names of person; for whose offences he recommended expulsion.

Lord Clare’s direction was immediately acted upon, and the sentence of expulsion was pronounced and executed by the board.

Among the disorders which the political excitement had caused, was one serious evil - a propensity to duelling. One of the young men previously expelled - Ardagh

supposing that a man named M’Carthy had given secret information to the board against him, immediately branded him as an informer, and sent him a hostile message. They met and exchanged four shots, but parted without reconciliation or concession on either side. The examination of Robinson, even during the sitting of the visitation, led to angry recrimination, which went as far as blows, and would have ended in a hostile meeting but for the interference of the college authorities. This bitter spirit bad broken out in various other duels.

The occasion of these disorders was submitted to the vice-chancellor, and his direction asked, whether a challenge or a duel was to be punished with expulsion. He replied, that, whatever allowance might be made for young men forgetting their academic in their military character, yet he would think it right, on the first duel that should again occur, to recommend the Lord Lieutenant to disband the college corps; but he hoped that as all faction was now crushed within the college walls, all cause for such encounters would cease also. He recommended all gownsmen to avoid collisions with the citizens, and ended with an extraordinary promise that, if a gownsman were offered any insult, he would himself take up the case at his own expense, and make such an example of the offender as would prevent a repetition of the offence.

The visitation, which had lasted three days, at length concluded, and the visitors retired amid the plaudits and acclamations of the assembled students.

The impression left on the minds of the auditory by the conduct of Dr. Browne and Dr. Stokes was very different indeed. They saw the latter standing, like Teneriffe or Atlas, unmoved by the assault made upon him; the former bending and yielding with a weak subserviency, ill according with the independent spirit he was before supposed to possess. The distrust excited by his conduct showed itself at the next election for the college. The then very unpopular measure of the Union was suspected to be in agitation, though not yet declared, and a test was put to Browne, whether, in the event of the measure being proposed, he would oppose it. Instead of declaring his determination in a displeasure at the suspicion implied by singling him out to take the test. When pressed for an explicit answer, he, at length, after much evasion, declared that he saw no ease in which he would vote for a union with England, except it was proposed as an alternative for a union with France.

It was on this occasion that John Walker stood up, and with that strange pronunciation by which he always substituted a W for an R, surprised us by say mg: “It Iwland lose hew libewty and independence, and we awe to be depwived of ouw wights and pwivileges, it is a mattew of no gweat consequence who awe to be ouw mastews.”

I did not learn, until after the visitation was over, some circumstances about it. It seems my friend, O’Tundher, had returned to my rooms and carried off the paper we had composed. He had altered and interpolated many passages, and immediately got 500 copies of it printed, and with his own hand disseminated them through college.

The circumstance which to me rendered the visitation so extraordinary was that, in the searching scrutiny which took place and lasted three days, a principal delinquent - fons et origo mali - was never called on or suspected, while his fellow-students all around him were arraigned for of fending by a publication in which they had neither hand nor part. It taught me a painful lesson of caution to see the university disturbed, its character compromised, its members endangered, some even expelled from its walls and scattered in exile, and all this perhaps traceable to the silly and idle production of a giddy student and a woollen-draper’s shopman.

There is no doubt that much secret information had been given previous to the visitation. A principal agent in collecting it was said to be E---, who had accosted me in the courts the day previously, and whom I had providentially evaded, without having at the time the slightest suspicion of his motive. Others, into whose confidence he wormed himself, were not so fortunate; and it was reported that through his instrumentality many were implicated.

He afterwards obtained a commission in the army. He had entered college as a sizar, and from being an obscure and shabby-looking lad, he emerged from college in full uniform, which he was fond of displaying in the most public streets as long as he remained in Dublin.

Among the expelled men, the most remarkable was Robert Emmet. Those whom I was most intimate with were two brothers of the name of Corbett. The elder was a low, smart little man, a lieutenant in the college corps; the other was tall and delicate, of a mild disposition and very pleasing manners; he was a sergeant in the corps. Immediately afterwards they went to France, and obtained commissions in the French service; and, I believe, one of them joined in the expedition to Ireland in which T. W. Tone was captured. The line-of-battle ship in which Tone embarked and six of the French frigates were taken. Two escaped; in one of which was Corbett. He after wards perished on the field of battle. The other brother met in France, Sweeney, one of the United Irishmen who had been confined in Fort George; they had a quarrel, and fought. After one of the most desperate duels on record, in which they exchanged eight shots, Corbett, who, even after he was wounded, refused all reconciliation, was shot through the heart.

After the visitation I did not meet my coadjutor in political composition till the evening of the intended insurrection in Dublin - the memorable 23rd of May, 1798. On the morning of that day I received a pressing invitation from my sister, who then lived in Buckingham-street, to join her family, that we might, as she said, “all die together.”

I set out in the evening for her house. The streets were silent and deserted; no sound was heard but the measured tread of the different yeomanry corps taking up their appointed stations. The only acquaintance I met abroad was my friend O’Tundher. He accosted me in the street, told me it was dangerous to be out, and pressed me to go home and pass the night with him. I was little disposed to join in any plan of his again, even if I had no other engagement, so I declined his offer.

While we were talking, we heard the sound of approaching steps, and saw the Attorneys’ Corps, with solemn tread, marching towards us. My companion disappeared down a lane, and I walked up to meet them, and when they had passed me, proceeded on my way. When I reached my sister’s house in Buckingham-street, I found a neighbour had called there, and given to my brother-in-law, who was a clergyman, a handful of ball cartridges, bidding him defend his life as well as he could, So great was their alarm, they had, on parting, taken a solemn leave of each other, as people who never hoped to meet again.

The only weapon of defence in the house was a fowling-piece, which I charged with powder, but found the balls in the cartridges too large for the calibre. The family were persuaded to go to bed, leaving me to keep guard; and with the fowling-piece on my shoulder, and the large ball stuck in the muzzle, I marched up and down till sunrise in the morning. Meetings of the disaffected were held that night in the Barley Fields (as the neighbourhood of George’s Church [St. George’s Church was opened in 1802 to replace the old church in Lower Temple-street (Hill-street), built by Sir John Eccles for his Protestant tenants. The new church was built by Francis Johnston, first President of the Royal Hibernian Academy, who presented the peal of bells to it. In this church Arthur Wellington, afterwards Duke of Wellington, was married, on the 10th of April, 1806,] was then called) and on the strand of Clontarf. The design was, to commence the insurrection in Dublin by the rescue of the State prisoners in Newgate and Kilmainham prisons; but the arrest of Neilson prevented the execution of this plan. More than once, in the still, calm night, I thought I heard the undulating buzz and sound of a crowd, and the regular tread of a mass of men marching, but all else was awfully still.

The companion, my intercourse with whom was marked by such singular results, had many excellent qualities. What I have heard of his subsequent career in life is extraordinary, but I had no opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with him.

The following is a copy, as it appeared in print, of the document which excited such emotion at the visitation

“To the independent Scholars and Students of Trinity College..

‘Whereas, we have learned with the utmost Concern, that the system of TERROR and COERCION, so pregnant with calamity and so unfortunately pursued throughout this kingdom, has been adopted within the walls of our university, and the severest collegiate penalties inflicted on supposed offences, which even to their full conviction would be wholly disproportioned; and that the fundamental principles of justice are violated, by deciding on secret testimony, and refusing to confront the accuser with the accused. Now we, the independent scholars and students, feeling just indignation that the liberty of opinion, which we even yet might claim as members of any other civil society, should be so totally annihilated, that to breathe a sigh for the sufferings of our country, or a censure on those flagitious measures which have caused them, and which our conscience must condemn, is followed by expulsion; and feeling most poignantly, as we do, that state of subordination to which the severity of academic discipline has reduced us, precluding all possibility of redress, or even the imprescriptible right of the oppressed to complain - we yet do resolve that no intimidation shall alter our principles ; that we will participate in pursuing, with undeviating aim, that redress which the miseries of our bleeding country demands; and, observing the effect which is ever known to follow arbitrary efforts to suppress opinions, we do hope that the mind, spurning those shackles that would be imposed upon it, will exert itself with increased energy, and the very means directed to suppress it will but diffuse and strengthen that principle, *‘unseen though crescive in its faculty.’ *And whereas there has been instituted, as a necessary concomitant (a support that has ever accompanied it), an organized arrangement of spies and informers, tainting the sources of social intercourse, corrupting even to dissolution the bonds of our society, and substituting distrust and gloomy suspicion for unrestrained mutual intercourse and communication, which alone constitute the enjoyment of existence, we feel sensations not unmixed with horror, that the mode of prosecution where the attestations of villains convicted of every crime that deforms humanity were received, so that the glaring and contradictory falsehood of some of them at length compelled the decency of courts to admit a prosecution for accumulated perjury-that mode which developed itself abroad with such public resentment, and was finally exploded with such public execration - should at length be resorted to within our college, and our body stigmatized with furnishing that depravity of character which the most abandoned and infamous class of society had almost failed to supply; we resolve on all occasions to express our utmost detestation of such abominable agents; as they have forfeited all pretensions to the character of gentlemen, which an association with us had allowed them to assume, we will not in future demand that retribution to which a gentleman applies, *though we should not be convinced, as we recently are, that personal cowardice is the attendant of their infamy, *but we will cautiously avoid all contact with the reptiles, as *‘of something baneful that our nature chills at’ *We will hold them to scorn, and illumine by every publicity the character of the ruffians, lest, shrinking in obscurity, they may wound unseen, and incautious sincerity fall a victim of their *hired zeal *or cankered malignity; and if the crust of callous infamy has not so incased their hearts as to render them invulnerable to all contempt and detestation of their fellows, we will finally drive them from our walls, to herd with *Dutton, Murdock, M’Cann, *and those fit and black associates, whose condoling sympathy may lull the pangs or blunt the points of those shafts which returning remorse cannot fail, sooner or later, to infix even in the conscience of the most abandoned depravity.”

A dangerous society, which aimed at subverting the government of the country, and introducing the wild excesses of French anarchy, was then progressing in the college. When this publication appeared, it was taken for granted that its authors actually comprised a large number of the members of the university. The audacious boldness of its style and assertions was thought to indicate the strength of the society from which it emanated, and it consequently excited much alarm. As an antidote, the following counter resolution of the scholars and students was published in the daily papers

“We, the undersigned scholars and students of Trinity College, having seen, with the warmest indignation, several copies of an infamous publication, scattered through college - a publication presumptuous in its title, as assuming to be the resolutions of the scholars and students of our university-degrading to gentlemen, as containing assertions of gross and calumniating falsehood-insulting to a loyal body, as being treasonable in the sentiments it breathes - do solemnly declare, that we are not directly nor indirectly, concerned ill said publication, that we despise it as false, and detest it as seditious, We likewise declare that the principles which it intends to inculcate, and the motives from which it is published, are the objects of our utmost abhorrence; and that we are determined, as far as in us lies, to support the cause of loyalty and the constitution,”

This disavowal was signed by upwards of 300 members of the college, including many who afterwards distinguished themselves at the bar and the church, and some who were lately members of the governing body of the university.

In the conduct of the visitation, Lord Clare’s demeanour was characterized by his usual arrogance. When a student hesitated to be sworn, or to answer, he frequently asked him “if he were a fool or a mad-man!” and if, in his examination, he indulged in the expression of any democratic or popular sentiment, the vice-chancellor’s observation was, “The young gentleman seems to have his reason affected.” With all this, he evinced more kindness of heart than his assessor, Dr. Duigenan; and always leaned to the side of mercy when the latter urged greater severity.

In moving the address to the Lord Lieutenant on the 23rd April, in the House of Lords, Lord Glandore took occasion to express his regret at the state of the university. Lord Clare, in reply to this observation, expressed his satisfaction, with much warmth, at the result of the visitation, in proving that so few in the college were really infected with revolutionary principles; and passed a high eulogium on the general loyalty of the body.

We have collected the following particulars of the subsequent career of James Farrell, referred to in the foregoing manuscript, which are so singular and characteristic of the times, that they possess more interest than the adventures of many more eminent politicians.

The night our informant parted from him, he returned to his lodgings in Christchurch-yard. This locality is now obliterated; [A double row of houses, one facing the present Christchurch-place, and the other facing the church itself, then existed. The passage, therefore, between Castle-street and High-stret was exceedingly narrow] but was then a thoroughfare entered by a dark passage, called “Hell,” on one side, and surrounded by houses and shops occupied exclusively by trunk-makers. It was the *refugium peccatorum *for many an unfortunate. His hostess was a worthy person, a Mrs. Bates. Her son was a loyal yeoman, of very different principles from her lodger; but the kindly qualities of Farrell had attached them both to him in no small degree. Among Farrell’s associates was N. M., who was arrested on suspicion; and, as it was supposed he could make important discoveries, he was put to the usual question of the triangle, at the station of the old Custom-house yard, near Essex-bridge, close to the woollen warehouse of Tredenick, in Parliament-street, [James Tredenick’s woollen warehouse was at No. 5 Parliament-street. The house is still so numbered.] in whose employment Farrell was, and where, at that moment, he was engaged in the business of the shop. M.’s courage failed him after a few lashes, and he consented to discover his associates. The first person he named was James Farrell. It happened that young Bates, with his corps of yeomanry, was that day on duty at the Customhouse yard, and he himself was standing close to the triangle. He heard distinctly the name of his friend, James Farrell, denounced by Major Sirr, who was in attendance. He immediately framed some excuse for his absence, ran off to Tredenick’s shop, and informed Farrell of the circumstance. Not a moment was to be lost. Farrell escaped from the house, by a back door, into Crane-lane, as *the *“Major,” who hastily followed young Bates, entered the shop. From Crane-lane, Farrell made *his *way, through by-lanes, to a friend’s house in Dominick-street, who gave him shelter while pursuit was being made after him. After a short sojourn here, he fell ill, and, unwilling to distress his friend’s family and compromise their safety, he left the house, and proceeded to a public inn, in Boot-lane, without disguise or concealment, reporting himself as a person from the country, who ad just come to town on business. To have the names of all the inmates of every house affixed to the door, was one of the precautionary measures adopted by the Government. When asked, Farrell gave his own name, and remained in the public-house with it on the door, unsuspected, while his pursuers were seeking him over the city.

From the inn, he retired to his old lodgings, among his faithful friends, in Christchurch-yard, where he remained concealed till an accident threw him into the arms of Major Sirr. The Major had information that a person concerned in passing forged notes was concealed in the locality of Christchurch-yard, and, making diligent search for the offender, be lighted upon Farrell. So remarkable a face could not escape notice; so he was arrested instead of the forger, identified as the person against whom M. had informed in the Custom-house yard, brought to the Castle, and thence conducted to Newgate.

Here his confinement was long, and his treatment severe. He had preferred some complaints as to the prison discipline, and raised a host of gaolers and turn keys against him. He was, however, liberated by the Government, to render them an expected service. Large bodies of rebels yet remained in arms in the county of Wicklow, and it was supposed that the interference of persons in their confidence might induce them to lay down their arms, in the now hopeless state in which their affairs were. Farrell was associated with a fellow-prisoner of the name of M’Cabe, [Probably William Putnam M’Cabe, the Proteus of the United Irishmen.] and proceeded to the rebel encampments, to execute this commission. Their interference was fruitless; and so indisposed were the insurgents to enter into any compromise, that their exasperation against those who proposed it nearly cost the latter their lives. Farrell, therefore, returned to his confinement, but his companion, M’Cabe, separated from him, and made his way to England.

Farrell had a high opinion of this M’Cabe, and told many anecdotes of his sagacity and presence of mind. On one occasion they had escaped together from some search made after them. M’Cabe got into a house, as he passed, undressed and went to bed in an upper room. He was scarce warm in it when he heard a noise below, and, on listening, found he was discovered, and heard men ascend the stairs to his room. He immediately ran to the window, raised it up, and saw below him a tiled shed, but too low to attempt to drop on it. He snatched something he found in the room, and dashed it down on the tiles, so as to break them and make a clatter, as if some one had jumped down on them. He then ran back to his bed, and concealed himself in the clothes, thrown back and folded over him. The door was immediately after burst open, and his pursuers rushed in. They first ran to the bed, found the sheets warm, as if a person had just risen from it, and then ran to the window. On looking out, they saw the shed below with shattered tiles, of which they had just heard the smash, and took it for granted that M’Cabe had desperately leaped out, and that they would find him below in the shed, with broken limbs. M’Cabe hastily dressed, hurried downstairs, and, in the confusion and eagerness of the search in the yard, quietly walked out and escaped.

After a dreary detention of eighteen months in prison, during the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, Farrell and some others were liberated, as soon as the parliamentary session closed, without renewing the Suspension Act. He was enlarged, however, only after giving security that he would leave Ireland, and not return without permission.

While in prison, Farrell had one narrow escape. A man of the same name was convicted of robbery, and executed in front of the prison. Major Sirr arrived at the moment they were carrying the dead body into the gaol, and seeing the remarkable face of Farrell among those looking on, “How is this?t” said he; “take care that you have not hanged the wrong Farrell.” “No, Major,” said Farrell; “but if you had come sooner, it is very likely that it would have been the case.” Farrell had an unawed and intrepid spirit, and talked to the awful “Major” with an indifference and familiarity which few other prisoners, whose lives were in his hands, would dare to assume.

On his liberation he proceeded to Liverpool, and arrived there in a situation the most destitute and friendless. He knew nobody, and his whole means of livelihood was a solitary sixpence. With this he repaired to a cheap eating-house, where he happened to meet some Irish labourers who gained their livelihood by working in the docks. In his forlorn condition he had no resource for existence but to adopt the same mode of life, so he walked down with them to the water side, and engaged himself as a day labourer. Here he was seen for some months in winter, barelegged, up to his knees in mud, earning a scanty subsistence by extreme labour. His mind, however, was unsubdued, and his person robust and constitution vigorous; and he ever afterwards talked of his honest and independent exertions on this occasion as not the least pleasant part of his life to reflect on. When the season arrived, he took a fork, and in the neighbourhood of Highgate obtained employment as a labourer, and worked at hay-inaking during the summer.

Unwilling to return to the docks in the winter, but without any introduction or knowledge of any person that could aid him, and having something intensely Irish about him, when the Irish of his supposed rank and station were in bad odour in London, he was again uncertain where to turn. He had one recommendation, however - he wrote an excellent hand. Of this he prepared specimens, and distributed them among the law stationers. He was soon engaged in the office of an eminent solicitor, and to this he owed the unexpected prosperity which attended part of his future life. The solicitor did business for an Irish merchant named Murphy, who had been so long in Spain that he retained but an imperfect recollection of English. He, therefore, engaged his countryman, Farrell, to manage his business.

He afterwards joined in partnership with a Mr. Gordon, and established a house in London. The talent and assiduity displayed by Farrell, as head clerk, won so favourably on his employers, that in a short time he was admitted into the firm as a junior partner. Having thus engaged in a most respectable connection, he assumed the character of a loyal man, He became a member of the corps of Loyal Yagers. He was one morning on drill in Moor-fields, when he was arrested on parade. His papers at Auston Friars were seized and examined at Bow-street and he was sent off in custody of a king’s messenger.

It then appeared that the charge against him was in connection with Russell, who was implicated in Emmet’s insurrection. A correspondent of Russell had addressed letters to Farrell’s care, and, on Russell’s arrest in Dublin, these letters were found with Farrell’s name upon them. It did not appear, however, that he was further implicated than by the indiscretion of having the letters addressed to him, and he was again liberated. He returned to England by the way of his native city, Waterford, and appeared on the quay in his loyal yager green uniform.

As his person and his* *principles were well known, it was immediately concluded he had come on some treasonable message, and his green uniform was set down as an audacious and overt act of rebellion. He was accordingly once more arrested; but on investigation, his suspicions uniform was found to he a badge of loyalty; he was again liberated, and returned to London to his mercantile engagements.

The firm of Murphy and Company was now highly respectable and popular. The senior partners had establishments in the West End, but the business was carried on in Austen Friars, where Farrell was supreme director. His hospitality, particularly to his own distressed countrymen, was most liberal. He became a distinguished man in the city, and he who, but a short time before, led a miserable existence among poor Irish labourers, by digging, bare-legged, in wet docks, was now an honoured and respected man, looked up to for the influence of his name and the opulence and respectability of his mercantile establishment.

He kept an almost open table, where men distinguished by rank and talent in the metropolis met together. Among his countrymen, Irish Johnson, Quin, and Peter Finnerty were constant guests. Among other literary speculations they established a newspaper called *The Day, *which did not succeed. It was proposed to improve its appearance by a new and expensive arrangement, and an improved title, which Farrell suggested should be, “sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” The evil day was then given up.

But the house of Murphy, Gordon, and Farrell was like a brilliant meteor, and after blazing for a few years was as rapidly extinguished. Engaged to an almost unexampled extent in Spanish commerce and connection, sudden and severe losses, arising from the unsettled state of that distracted country, involved the firm in embarrassments. The partnership was dissolved, and Farrell entered into speculations on his own account, which were not successful.

He even tried literature, and commenced as an author, choosing a subjcct somewhat appropriate to the realities of his own chequered life. He called his book “Sketches of Bedlam,” making up his facts from the report of a poor man who had been a keeper in a lunatic hospital. About this time he renewed an acquaintance with the widow of an officer, whom he married; but the match turned out unfortunate, and they separated. Misfortune still attended him, and be was declared a bankrupt.

After a period of embarrassment and distress, Farrell was enabled by the kindness of one of his partners, who had retired from the firm in better circumstances, and made a more prudent use of his dividend, to go to France, and he proceeded to Brussels. He was there when the Belgian revolution broke out. He was in the midst of the émeute, and, endeavouring to escape over a wall, received a gun-shot wound. He lingered for a short time, and died at Brussels, where he was buried.

The subsequent career of our informant’s friend, Corbett, was as adventurous and much more brilliant than that of Farrell. He was possessed of considerable abilities - a good scholar and a fluent speaker. Though his appearance was very youthful, and his manners had the cheerful gaiety of a schoolboy, yet he was distinguished for an energy far above his age, and for the most fearless intreepidity. He had early attached himself to the revolutionary party in college. At the presentation of the address to Lord Camden, a circumstance occurred which, in a degree, justified the strong measures taken by the Board of College. Just as the deputation reached the Castle a considerable portion of those who formed it separated from the rest, and, instead of paying their respects to the representative of royalty, proceeded with an inflammatory address to Grattan, and from thence to Francis-street Chapel, where a “Catholic Committee” was sitting. Corbett led the way in this very irregular proceeding. When the party entered the chapel, Keogh, who was addressing the committee, broke out into an eulogium on the patriotism of the students who had spurned the discipline of college, and singled out Corbett particalarly for his praises.

After his expulsion from the university, Corbett made his way, with others, to France, entered the French service, and joined the corps intended for the invasion of Ireland. He embarked with Napper Tandy and a man named Blackwell, on board of the “Anacréon” sloop-of-war, to co-operate with Humbert, who had landed at Killala. They were to have landed from the “Anacréon” on the coast of Donegal, and thence proceed to join Humbert; but before this could be effected, news was brought that Humbert and his forces had surrendered, and the intended Irish auxiliaries made a precipitate retreat. They were pursued by a British ship-of-war, and with some difficulty escaped to the coast of Norway, and landed at Bergen.

Here they were blockaded by the English, and finding it impossible to escape by sea, they set out by land, and reached Hamburgh. On the representation of the British consul, they were arrested by the authorities, and handed over as revolted British subjects. After a long and rigorous confinement they were remitted prisoners to Ireland, and committed to Kilmainham gaol. From this prison Corbett and Blackwell escaped, after sundry perilous but unsuccessful attempts. The last was nearly fatal to Corbett. The cord by which he surmounted the high wall of that prison was found too short to reach the ground at the other side; so, after remaining suspended by his hands till he was exhausted, he let go, and was lifted up by his friends from the ground in a state of insensibility.

When sufficiently recovered, he went to Liverpool, assumed the disguise of a Liverpool merchant, and, under it obtained a passport, and found himself once more in Paris, after so many perilous adventures.

He afterwards obtained the rank of general in the French service. He accompanied the French armies to Spain, and took a distinguished part in the great battles of the Peninsular War - at Salamanca, Almeida, and Ciudad Rodrigo. He fonght for Napoleon also at Dresden and Leipsic with much credit.

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