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members, to order the prisoners to military tribunals and instant execution. These unfortunate men, however, did not meet death with less certainty, though more slowly on that account: almost universally they met it with a courage which was never excelled. The two Sheares were, perhaps, the only exception; and as they were brothers, had an aged mother, and the eldest a wife and several children, a deep sense of their wretched situation was natural and excusable. When the jury brought in the fatal verdict, they burst into tears, and clasped each other in their arms, presenting a scene of distress, which subdued even the court itself, and melted hearts steeled by habit and prejudice against them. Mr. O'Byrne met death not only with composure but with cheerfulness: he was confined in the same cell with Mr. Oliver Bond. A gentleman, unaccustomed to such scenes, passed the night previous to his execution along with them; he declares, that on his entrance into the prison, the clanking of chains, the brutal and ferocious aspect of the keepers, the heavy and grating sound of the doors as the locks were opened, and the bolts slowly withdrawn; the gloomy and forlorn appearance of every thing around, so disordered his frame, that his teeth chattered, his knees bent under him, and his hair (he thinks) literally stood an end. Mr. O'Byrne during the night conversed with the utmost gaiety and indifference; he took a hearty breakfast, and eat a couple of eggs: when summoned to execution, he did not, by the least variation of voice or countenance, display even a transient uneasiness: he shook Mr. Bond affectionately by the hand, saying, "God Almighty bless you! you have but a day or two longer, and then your sufferings will be over as

mine nearly are.”—It is reported, so complete was his self-possession, that, in passing to the scaffold by the window of an apartment where Mrs. Bond was waiting to see her husband, he stooped so low as not to be seen by her, lest he should alarm her feelings, at that moment trembling for all she held dear.

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Though considerably prior to the period I am writing of, I shall mention the fate of another of these unfortunate sons of rebellion; on account of the firmness he displayed. He was a clergyman of the name of Jackson; he was tried and found guilty, but contrived to escape the penalties of the law, by swallowing a large dose of arsenic: the intrepidity with which he bore the excruciating pains of that poison was remarkable. A motion in arrest of judgment was made. He concealed the pangs he was suffering so well, that when he was called upon to know what he had to say, why sentence should not be passed upon him, though at the time actually unable to speak, with a smiling air he bowed and pointed to his counsel:-his fortitude did not fail him to the last, for it was scarcely suspected that he was ill, until he fell down in the agonies of death, in the midst of his counsel's argument. The following anecdote is related of him in a work lately published by Dr. M'Nevin: while he was preparing for his trial, and was fully apprised of what would be its result, à friend was, by the kindness of the gaoler, permitted to remain with him until a very late hour at night on business. After the consultation had ended, Mr. Jackson accompanied his friend to the outer door of the prison, which was locked, the key remaining in the door, and the keeper in a very profound sleep, probably oppressed with wine.

There could have been no difficulty in his escaping, even subsequent to the departure of his friend, and without his consent; but he adopted a different conduct-he locked the door after his guest, awoke the keeper, gave him the key, and retired to his apartment. This is recorded by Dr. M'Nevin to prove he had a high sense of honour: the honour which remains to be hanged, when by opening a door escape is certain, appears to me romantic and unnatural; nor do I conceive such a feeling would operate, in such a situation, upon any human being. Mr. Jackson was probably bewildered and confused by the unexpectedness of the occurrence; and, stupified and infatuated, had not presence of mind to seize the critical moment of escaping from death, though afterwards he had fortitude to meet it undaunted.

But of all the victims of this unfortunate rebellion, Lord Edward Fitzgerald was the most generally deplored. A warrant had been issued against him, but he escaped, and remained undiscovered upwards of two months, in the city of Dublin; he was discovered, however, on the nineteenth of May, at the house of one Murphy, a dealer in feathers, who resided near St. James's gate. On the police officers entering the room, the unhappy nobleman made a desperate defence: though he had no other weapon than a dagger, he wounded two of the principal of them, Mr. Justice · Swan and Captain Ryan: the latter died of his wounds shortly afterwards, and the former still, it is said, feels, at intervals, the effects of his. Lord Edward himself expired in great agony on the third of the following month, from the effects of this furious conflict, as he had been

wounded in the shoulder, by the shot of a pistol from Major Sirr. Lord Edward, who was brother to the Duke of Leinster, and married to a French lady, supposed to be a natural daughter of the late Duke of Orleans, was eminently qualified for the direction of revolutionary commotion: being a man of daring courage, a most active spirit, and of a family highly respected, for its ancient greatness, by the lower classes of the Irish. He had served in his Majesty's army, where he was highly esteemed for his courage and military conduct, his honour, humanity, and candour. Mr. Cobbett, as is well known, was serjeant-major of the regiment to which his lordship belonged. In a work lately published, he gives him the character of being a young man of the most perfect integrity. Mr. Cobbett does not do more honour to Lord Edward, than he does to himself, by this manly tribute of respect to the memory of a man, who did not become a rebel from selfish or ambitious motives, but from a warm, though mistaken, zeal for the good of his country, and of human kind.-Whatever may be said of the other conspirators,

"He only, in a general honest thought,

And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixt in him, that nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, 'This was a man !'”

CHAPTER VIII.

Theatre-Mr. Daly-The Belle's Stratagem-Mrs. SiddonsAdvantages of the Dublin Theatre-Exhibition of paintings— Epigram on Sir H. Jebb.

Dublin.

It has often been a subject of wonder that, in a city of such extent as Dublin, there should be so few places of public amusement: but one theatre, not very large, nor in general well filled: that it is not well filled, however, is not want of taste in the public, but want of good conduct in the managers. Monopoly is unfavourable to exertion, and where there is only one theatre, or one manufacture, the article is seldom good. The management of the Dublin Theatre has been long complained of; the managers were generally players; players are seldom men of business in any country, as seldom, perhaps, in this, as in any other. Mr. Daly, for many years the potentate of Crow-street, was an admirable man of pleasure, but an indifferent actor: he performed the lover both on and off the stage; on it with little applause; but off it with the greatest. These performances, however, were more agreeable than profitable: he was obliged to resign his sceptre, to extricate himself from his involvements; and, like the Mark Antony he had often mimicked, lost his little world for love. Mr. Frederick Jones succeeded him, and I believe has not succeeded much better.

Until lately Mr. Holman was acting manager: he is

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