wind. Lysaght occasionally employed aid of this sort to keep himself up. "Now," said a friend impressively who had just accommodated Lysaght by putting his name on the back of a bill, "Now don't you promise religiously to take it up." "That I will-and the protest along with it," replied the other, walking off and laughing immoderately.

Lysaght's example, with all its faults, had at least the effect of feeding into fuller light the genius of Moore, who possessed some of his weakness and more than his talent. Moore's Diary is silent as regards his early friend, but the late Dean Meyler informed us that in a conversation which he had with Moore in 1833, the latter observed: "I look back upon Lysaght with feelings of love. All his words were like drops of music."

This gossip about Lysaght is perhaps too full; but the points of his character contrast so forcibly with the austere consistency and high moral tone of his early friend Lanigan, that the parallel preaches a moral even if it fails to wield interest. It should further be remembered that very little is known of Lysaght, and it ought not to prove an altogether thankless task to trace him through the fading mazes of his well-nigh obliterated footprints.*

* In reply to a letter which we addressed to Dean Kenny, V.G. of Killaloe, a gentleman specially well-versed in the traditional lore of Clare, he writes, 21st April, 1871: "After prolonged search, I made out a copy of Lysaght's poems, brought out after his death by Dr. Griffin, Protestant Bishop of Limerick. Lysaght's national songs were omitted. In my early days, before the publication of Moore's Irish Melodies, the songs of Ned Lysaght were much prized in the county Clare, but especially in rebel circles. Some of them re-appeared during the days of Davis; the best of them, which were in the mouth of every one in Clare seventy years ago, and many of which, when a boy, I could myself repeat, cannot now be had. During the recent March assizes in Ennis, when Clare was well represented, I inquired if Lysaght's unpublished songs could be made out. An inquirer like you will hear with surprise that many old men who spent their lives in Clare never heard of Ned Lysaght. Of the lot was one of my own schoolfellows, who was of a party who made their way to hear a speech from Lysaght at an election for Clare in 1807. He could hardly even remember the sound flogging inflicted on himself and others, myself amongst the number, for escaping from custody.”

CHAPTER III.

THE IRISH COLLEGE AT ROME AND THE SUPPRESSION OF THE JESUITS.

"Do you know anything of an officer at Rome who is called the Lord Protector of Ireland ?" "There was such a personage at Rome; one of the Cardinals usually took the title of Protector of Ireland. . . . He took the Irish College at Rome and the mission under his special patronage; his services consisted in promoting the interests of both at the court of Rome."-Rev. Dr. Slevin's Evidence, 28th October, 1826. MAYNOOTH COLLEGE, for the education of Irish priests, had not been established until the year 1795. France, Spain, and Belgium were the most accessible and favoured fields for feeding the Irish mission; but Rome motioned the student to her own bosom, and he bowed in obedience to that irresistible call. Accordingly, at the early age of sixteen we find young Lanigan, with letters of introduction from the Most Rev. Dr. James Butler, Archbishop of Cashel, starting forth to pursue, at the Irish College, Rome, his studies for the sacred ministry. These interesting documents have long been preserved by the Right Rev. Mgr. Moran, who has promised to search for them, with a view to insertion in our Appendix. Different from the better system which has long prevailed, the then Rector was an Italian, the Rev. Aloysius Cuccagni, who, however, evinced a tolerably fair acquaintance with the wants of the Irish mission, as his letters to Dr. Butler show. After receiving the illustrious Archbishop's blessing, "and bidding," states the family tradition, "a long and sad adieu to his mother, whom he loved most dearly, and to the playmates of his early years, my grand-uncle proceeded to Cork, accompanied by some friends, where he arranged with the captain of a vessel about sailing for London; and after many promises from the master of the ship to take care of the youth, heavy hearts, on shore, bade him farewell. Young

Lanigan, when on deck, looked back with tearful eyes and a bursting heart at the receding outline of his native land, which unmanly and cruel laws compelled him to leave; and emotions no doubt crowded upon him akin to those described in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage:" 'Adieu! adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue.'"*

Mr. Lanigan, we may be assured, soon resigned himself to his fate, and forgot present troubles not only in the pleasures of literature and the consolations of religion, but in the goodfellowship of a congenial travel ing companion. This individual, as he gathered the folds of an ample cloak like a toga around him, presented an imposing appearance, and his manners were affable without being patronising. Mr. Lanigan was much prepossessed by the stranger, who on his side appeared pleased with the young Irishman; and having learned from him the route of his future journey, remarked as a pleasant coincidence that he was also going to Calais, and that perhaps ere long they would both be exploring together the walls of that ancient city which had succumbed, in 1558, to the shot and shell of the Duke of Guise. John Lanigan hailed with delight the fortuitous circumstance presented in the prolonged society and guidance of his fellowtraveller, who seemed so excellent a cicerone, and they arranged to stop at the same hotel in London. Upon inquiry after supper, they were informed that the boat for Calais would leave the wharf at Blackwall very early by the morning tide. "Breakfast was ordered to. be prepared in due time," proceeds the family account, "and the two travellers repaired to a double-bedded room for a few hours' repose. Mr. Lanigan was most happy to have met with such a skilful and pleasant guide, and sinking in luxurious rest after his laborious journey, in a few minutes was fast asleep, dreaming of

* Letter from Mrs. Reany of Clonmel, 24th September, 1862.

Rome and roaming, of France and friendship. When he awoke in the morning, and looking forth beheld with admiration the dome of St. Paul's rising majestically

before him, emotions of an opposite sort took possession of his mind on finding that his fellow-traveller had risen before him, and was gone for some time, the boat having sailed at four o'clock. Mr. Lanigan appealed for counsel and consolation to the stolid waiter, who declared he knew nothing but that he was to pay the bill. The poor fellow put his hand in his pocket; but misfortunes never come single-his purse had vanished as well as the guide! The latter had rifled Lanigan's pockets during the night, ate a hearty breakfast early next morning, and having desired that his young friend should not be disturbed, started possibly for the Levant, or some such appropriate destination. Thus the artless Irish youth found himself in the modern Babylon without a shilling in his pocket! "Even," writes Dr. Lanigan's niece, "the hard heart of the hotel-keeper was softened at his distress, and he wrote a letter to the Catholic administrator of the district, requesting that he would devise

some means to relieve the young gentleman from his difficulties." But the good lady probably does more than justice to the motives of mine host. "The priest," she adds, "with the benevolence that ever characterizes true piety, hastened at once to the hotel, and on seeing Mr. Lanigan's letters of introduction, he paid the landlord and brought the almost heartbroken boy to his own house, where he remained until a remittance from home enabled him to resume his journey." It is a remarkable instance of retribution that, as has been alleged by Dr. Lanigan's representatives, the vessel which conveyed the swindler from London was completely wrecked a few hours subsequent to his unworthy achievement. Henceforth John Lanigan, who was always a man of impulsive tendencies, intuitively recoiled, as from an imposition, whenever any stranger of imposing manners smiled blandly upon him.

Unhappily for readers who love adventure, the remainder of Mr. Lanigan's journey to Rome was accomplished without any further recorded incidents of interest. The good administrator had kindly introduced him to a party of priests who were proceeding to the Eternal City; and under their guidance and protection he was able to make a most delightful tour at a comparatively small cost. The party proceeded first to Brussels, and from thence to Aix-la-Chapelle, where they explored the marvellous and apparently well-authenticated relics of Christ's nativity and crucifixion; following the majestic course of the Rhine as far as Strasburg, they then traversed the Palatinate and the dark defiles of the Tyrol; visited Loretto and Macerata, and having crossed the rocky Appenines and the swollen Tiber as it wound its sluggish course, our traveller at last entered, with no ordinary emotions, "the Ancient Mistress of the World," as Titus Livy calls it; "the Mother of Eloquence," according to Cassiodorus ; the Queen of Universal Religion, as expressed by St. Prosper.

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