There was an unlucky conjunction of incidents to aggravate the effect of this apparently slight collision. Lord Abingdon proposed a bill in England-strongly asserting the subordination of Ireland to England, as a part of her maritime and commercial empire. Though this bill was not even suffered to lie on the table, it produced its full effect in Ireland. With this, another incident, altogether insignificant in itself, and indeed a matter of course, concurred to aggravate the distemperature of the popular mind. When the bill settling the question of appeals had passed, there happened to remain for decision in the English court of king's bench one case of appeal from Ireland. It had passed through the course of its proceedings, and was in fact only waiting for adjudication. The parties had been put to all the inconveniences of delay and expense attendant on such proceedings; and to any rational person it must have seemed an outrage as well as an extravagant absurdity, that these proceedings should be recommenced, and expenses repeated for the mere satisfaction of a public feeling founded on ignorance. The case had arrived at its termination, and the new law did not in fact apply. The appeal was then a past transaction; the pleadings had begun; the time for pleading the new statute was over; to bring it forward would have been a step not only vexatious, but one for which there existed no provision, and therefore manifestly illegal. Such was the simple fact. As no further appeal could, according to this law, take place, the case could in no way recur, and the question of judicature was uninvolved. Nevertheless, in Ireland it was enough to find the shadow of a grievance or a wrong. This went with the other untoward incidents already described, and excited indications of public discontent, which were most ill-timed, and unfortunate in every way. They seemed to show that in this country public outcries proved nothing but the tendency to excitement; and thus suggested the inutility of concession; the hopelessness of conciliation; and the portentous inference that Ireland could not stand by herself.

To confirm the misapprehensions of the public, the lawyers' corps entered with factious zeal into the outcry for the express renunciation of a declaratory bill; and, with the natural indifference of legal subtlety, drew up an opinion to this effect. This was met by a more sound and authoritative opinion from the ablest and most reputed lawyers of the Irish bar.

The British parliament complied with the unreasonable requisition of a faction. They passed, soon after, the declaratory law required; and by the simple repeal of this, as Mr Grattan observed, “Ireland would have been left in a worse situation than before."

But the one result in which we are immediately concerned was, the strong revulsion of popular feeling against Mr Grattan. It is, indeed, one of the many memorable lessons which history offers on the mutability and the insignificance of popular affections, only to be won by inflaming, and retained by continuing the fever of the public mind. The true and incorruptible patriot, who, in the exigency of real grievance, was ready to devote himself to the cause of his country-who was neither to be bought nor terrified-was little likely to be the dupe or creature of popularity: he who yielded nothing to the influences of

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rank, talent, and power, was not to be the puppet of a faction-the turba Quiritium prava jubentium. "All Grattan's services," writes Mr Hardy, were thrown into oblivion. The favourite of the 16th of April became, in little more than two months-indeed, long before 'their shoes were old,' in following him with loud acclamationsone of the most unpopular men in the kingdom." That such a man, and such sacrifices and labours, should meet with such a reward, was pronounced by lord Charlemont, writing at the time, "a baseness of ingratitude that surpasses all comprehension."

Mr Grattan's health, never of the most robust constitution, suffered by these labours and annoyances. He had suffered from illness during the session. When it was over he complied with the advice of his physicians, and went to try the waters at Spa.

On his return, Mr Grattan married Miss Henrietta Fitzgerald, a young lady of many attractions and endearing qualities. She was on her father's side a descendant from the ancient family of Desmond. She had been much admired in Dublin for beauty and accomplishment, and merited a higher sentiment for a "rectitude of mind, a purity of thought, a dignity of manner, and a disposition the most amiable and benign." Her marriage was immediately preceded by a violent illness from which the physician gave up all hopes of her recovery. The severity of the interval to the deep affections and ardent temper of Mr Grattan may be imagined. When, however, the chief medical men of Dublin had given her up, the strenuous affections of her affianced lover discovered a physician whose skill and boldness were blessed with success, and she was restored to him from the clutch of the grave.

His marriage followed; and having thus secured a harbour more safe than the favour of rabbles and factions, Mr Grattan turned his mind toward the spot long selected for a home. He took a temporary lodging at a place called Wingfield, somewhere in the wellknown neighbourhood of the Dargle. At one extremity of this glen, only separated by a road from the romantic woods and lawns of Powerscourt, lay, or stood the mansion of Tinnehinch, which had been an inn, the resort of the vast numbers who came attracted by the scenery of the loveliest spot of wood, water, and green grass in Ireland. This was the spot long before selected by Mr Grattan "with an eye of forecast," for the residence of his future years. Here he presently completed his purchase and began his improvements: but the soil was unfavourable, wet and sandy, and subject from the lowness of the level, to be frequently overlaid with water. At much expense, and by the exertion of considerable ingenuity and labour, Mr Grattan contrived to remedy these disadvantages.

While the calm sunshine of domestic felicity was thus rising upon his home, storms and troubles were thickening for him without. The democratic impulse by which so much had been effected was an instrument which could not be stopped when its work was done; it was a brute force, and the quantity of motion was beyond the control of the movers. The volunteers were become, according to the forcible expressions of Mr Daly-" ready to determine any question in the whole circle of sciences that should be proposed to them, and to

burn every person who doubted their infallibility." In a word, they became tainted with democratic principles, imported from the Jacobin club. Mr Flood, dissatisfied with his own share in the great successes which had been obtained-at variance with all the prominent actors, and filled with animosity against their illustrious leader— was now exercising a late and most pernicious activity, and exciting the volunteers to renewed exertion, when every other true friend of Ireland was anxious to restrain them. The questions which we have just stated, were the immediate pretexts for turning their discontent against Mr Grattan. The Independent Dublin Volunteers, of which he was the colonel, were assembled by Mr Flood their lieutenant-colonel. They presented an address to Mr Grattan, expressive of their opinion on the subject of the "express renunciation," which they supported by the opinion of the lawyers' corps. Mr Grattan replied in a calm, moderate, and dignified tone, expressive of dissent. He stated, that he considered the ceasing of his command, to be the result of this disagreement; but forebore from expressly resigning, lest this might seem "to be an act of unmanly offence," &c., concluding with the just, and in his instance, pathetic observation, "There is a final justice in public opinion, on which I do not fear to stand."

In the year 1783, there was an election, and a new administration. On this latter circumstance, our present narrative requires no special notice. Mr Grattan was returned for the borough of Charlemont. His parliamentary conduct was very much governed by those considerations of which we have taken some pains to possess the reader; the sense that very great concessions had been but just made, that popular exaction was too much excited; and perhaps, withal a sense that the part he had himself taken in extorting so much, and raising so powerful a tone of public spirit, more especially imposed it upon him to show a just moderation and to guard against any ill consequences. With such (most just) impressions, the part he had to perform was one of much delicacy; and perhaps only to be kept clear from imputation, by the character of a man who maintained the most strict and self-denying independence. This was precisely the main feature of Mr Grattan's conduct at the present juncture. He set himself in opposition to the fallacious pertinacity of his countrymen, without any concession to the opposite party; and supported the administration without even the suspicion of a compromise, so far as his reason and sense of right suggested that it was expedient and just.

It was an occasion of this nature which led the way to the celebrated quarrel between him and Mr Flood. Of this there are few readers uninformed, as it remains an oft cited example of parliamentary invective. The main particulars are already stated in this volume, in our notice of Mr Flood.* It was a motion for retrenchment, made when such a motion was unseasonable, that brought on the collision. It is not to be understood that Mr Grattan was opposed to such a requisition on principle, but he then opposed it because it was simply factious, and likely to convey a pernicious im

* P. 220.

pression. Of his motion it may be presumed, that the account offered by his son, is the true one, and received from himself; he "declined to join an opposition of that character, lest it might be said that every effort had been made to gain the affections of the Irish, by a series of concessions, and every experiment had been tried to cultivate these friendly dispositions, but all to no purpose." This just sentiment is indeed one of the lessons of history.

The only consequence of this dispute now to be noticed, was the storm of abuse and misrepresentation, against Mr Grattan, which it drew from the press. The volunteers, under the same influences which we have already related, took a more distinct tone in favour of Mr Flood, who now gave the entire tone to their language and proceedings. We have already given some account of the convention of delegates in Dublin, which took place at this interval of our memoir. We shall only now say, that neither Mr Grattan, nor any of his political associates, joined it. He was labouring at the time to give effect to what had been already done for Ireland, and with this view, endeavoured to maintain and exert an influence where alone at the moment, influence or effort had the slightest chance of being in any way useful; and this was with the government itself. This assumption was either the policy or the pretext upon which his great rival lent himself for many years to the castle, in times, when to do so, was to disarm himself, and at the same time, lend a countenance to much of which he could not approve, while the acceptance of a lucrative office threw a suspicion over his motives. Mr Grattan left no such handle for detraction. He accepted nothing; his motives were remotely clear of every imputation. But now whatever might be the complexion of its political tenets, the administration had adopted the understanding, on which he himself had taken his stand; true and liberal justice to Ireland. Such being the convention of the moment, unless "patriotism" be a term synonymous with "faction," it was obviously the part of the patriot to aid and enlighten its good intentions. Mr Grattan in fact took his stand near the helm-for there alone was his station; but he submitted to no obligation, his aid was sternly exclusive, he would not be bribed, and could not be smiled and bowed out of his principles; he came to give counsel, and under such an understanding that any attempt to control him, on the part of government, could not have occurred. It was indeed the best pledge of the sincerity of government, that his counsel was sought.

At this time there occurred an incident, trifling in itself which may give some idea of Mr Grattan's position with all the parties. An entertainment was given, by G. R. Fitzgerald to the notorious bishop of Bristol, and several of the volunteer officers. Mr Grattan, whom that party were still endeavouring to win to themselves, was invited; he did not belong to the convention, and as the reader is aware, made no secret of his disapprobation. He nevertheless, had never come to any direct opposition with them, and the formal respect of accepting the invitation would have been due to persons of rank and respectability, with many of whom he was moreover on friendly terms. In the course of the evening, the dissatisfaction of this party was excited

by the arrival of a special messenger from Mr Pelham, requesting the of Mr Grattan, at a council in the castle. He left the party, presence but as he was going he received an intimation from a faithful servant of his own, that a mob was collected for the purpose of way-laying him. His life would of course have been the sacrifice, had he fallen in with this atrocious rabble-who in all probability had been set on by their superiors in wickedness. But his mission to the castle, was providentially the means of disappointing the thirst for his blood, and preserving him for his country. The same incident also, in another way proves, the high confidence reposed in the noble integrity of Mr Grattan's character. The party with which he had dined was at the moment, and there is every reason to know on substantial grounds, under strong suspicion of treasonable designs, and that the meeting of the privy council which he that night attended, was for the arrest of their leader the bishop of Bristol. If so, it is not by any means impossible, that this needless act was prevented by Mr Grattan's interposition.

We have already gone in this volume into the history of this faction, its meetings in the Rotundo, its arrogation of legislative power, its attempts to impose its dictation on the Irish parliament. We have also given a sufficient narrative of the result and the debate in the commons on that occasion, when the patriot members though not disapproving of the measure of reform thus proposed, concurred to reject a proposal thus presented at the point of the bayonet.* We shall now

only add, a remark which we shall hereafter have more fully to urge, that the real result of this contumacious effort to prolong their interference, was the actual commencement of a new under working contest which terminated in the Union; and could not well have failed to lead to that event.

The most truly disagreeable result to Mr Grattan, from the moderate and independent course he had adopted, was a rupture with the good and worthy lord Charlemont. This was the more to be regretted, because he was at the time sitting for the borough of this nobleman. But it could not be avoided; lord Charlemont had recently been treated by the castle with less respect than was due to his character and services, and it is probable that some human mixture of personal feeling entered into his opposition. However this may have been, he entered with zeal into the opposition which, carried as it was into trifles, Mr Grattan at this time thought both unseasonable and unbecoming. There is evidently a tone of wounded pride in the letter which he wrote to Mr Grattan, expressive of his disapprobation, and declaring their friendship at an end. The immediate occasion of this disagreement, was a question relative to an augmentation of the which lord Charlemont had recommended Mr Grattan to oppose. Mr Grattan not feeling satisfied under such circumstances, to continue indebted for his seat to one who had taken such a course, immediately purchased a seat from a relation of lord Charlemont's.

army;

The prudence and wisdom of Mr Grattan's conduct, is very clearly illustrated by the character of the changes which can be traced in their

* P. 202.