He

made himself amenable was his perseverance at once in insult and irresponsibility. The truth is, O'Connell's want of courage consisted in his fighting the duel in which the vow originated. The facts of the case are few and simple. In one of his many mob-speeches he called the corporation of Dublin a beggarly corporation." A gentleman named D'Esterre affected to feel this as a personal affront, he being one of that very numerous body, and accordingly fastened a quarrel on the offender. It is quite true that O'Connell endeavored to avoid the encounter. He did not do enough. should have summoned D'Esterre before the tribunals of the country, after failing to appease him by a repeated declaration that he meant him no personal offense, and could not, he being a total stranger to him. However, in an evil hour, he countenanced a savage and anti-Christian custom--the unfortunate D'Esterre paid for his perverseness with his life, and the still more unfortunate O'Connell expiated his moral timidity with much mental anguish to the day of his death. The perpetration of a duel appears to me no proof whatever of personal courage; the refusal, in the then state of society, would have shown much more. However, on the occasion in question he showed a total absence of what is vulgarly called fear; indeed, his frigid determination was remarkable. Let those who read the following anecdote remember that he most reluctantly engaged in the combat; that he was then the father of seven children; and that it was an alternative of life or death with him, D'Esterre being reputed an unerring marksman. Being one of those who accompanied O'Connell, he beckoned me aside to a distant portion of the very large field, which had a slight covering of snow. Phillips," said he, "this seems to me not a personal, but a political affair. obnoxious to a party, and they adopt a false pretense to cut me off. I shall not submit to it. They have reckoned without their host, I promise you. I am one of the best shots in Ireland at a mark, having, as a public man, considered it a duty to prepare, for my own protection, against such unpro

I am

voked aggression as the present. Now, remember what I say to you. I may be struck myself, and then skill is out of the question; but if I am not, my antagonist may have cause to regret his having forced me into this conflict." The parties were then very soon placed on the ground, at, I think, twelve paces distance, each having a case of pistols, with directions to fire when they chose, after a given signal. D'Esterre rather agitated himself by making a short speech, disclaiming all hostility to his Roman Catholic countrymen, and took his ground, somewhat theatrically crossing his pistols upon his bosom. They fired almost together, and instantly on the signal. D'Esterre fell, mortally wounded. There was the greatest self-possession displayed by both. It seemed to me a duty to narrate these details in O'Connell's lifetime wherever I heard his courage questioned, and justice to his memory now prompts me to record them here.

Happy, indeed, would it be for Mr. O'Connell, had he no other charge than this to answer. But when posterity, bending over the page of his eventful life, shall rigidly inquire to what purpose was employed that despot power and boundless popularity, what must be the answer? Was it to bind mankind in bonds of brotherhood? to heal the wounds of an afflicted country? to cement the union of the whole human family? to include conflicting creeds and classes within the Christian circle of charity and peace? Let living Ireland speak. Where are now the countless multitudes that followed in his wake, and watched his glance, and worshiped his very footsteps? Where is now that name, which every hill, and vale, and glen in Ireland so often echoed to a population's voice? Who ever hears of it? Was it not written in water? Oblivion has become, as it were, a national compact:

"Who put in popularity their trust,

But write in water, and but limn the dust."

Indeed, every trace of him seems to have been studiously obliterated. Even his library, the favorite volumes with his autograph annotations, which, it might be presumed, Roman

Catholic gratitude would have prized as so many relics, were depreciated and dispersed! But when life's pageantry had passed away, a duty still remained. Death was to be mocked. Hypocrisy's farce was perfect. No mummery was spared. A gorgeous worship displayed all the splendor of its pompous ceremonial. Mitered sorrow stood before the altar, a weeping populace surrounded the bier; and when the solemn organ pealed its last, and the anthem's lingering tones had died away, the prudent mourners, fearing the effect, perhaps, of grief prolonged, buried O'Connell and his memory together! Oh, popularity! thou fickle, false, and fetid idol, how long will man mistake thee for a deity!

After the Union, during the peace, or, rather, truce of 1802, Mr. Curran visited Paris. He was there intimate with many distinguished characters, and was fond of recollecting the Abbé Gregoire. His temper was much soured, and he saw every thing with a jaundiced eye. "I do not know," said he, in one of his letters,* "that even the few days that I can spend here will not be enough: sickness long and gloomy— convalescence disturbed by various paroxysms-relapse confirmed—the last, a spectacle soon seen and painfully dwelt upon." The change in French society wrought by the revolution was little to his taste: it was a change from " frivolous elegance to a squalid, vulgar, beard-grown vivacity.” In this mood he seemed rather to rejoice that republican etiquette prevented his presentation at the consular court. In his own quaint phrase, "Not having been baptized at St. James's, he could not be confirmed at St. Cloud." During this visit he fell into the deepest melancholy-saw no one-and, by his neglect of some old and exiled friends, incurred from them the imputation of forgetfulness. Among these was Mr. Plowden, the author of some celebrated tracts on Irish history. This called from Plowden the following letter; and Mr. Curran's reply must show more fully than any delineation of mine the dejection into which he had fallen.

* Life by his Son.

"Mr. Plowden did himself the honor of calling to take leave of Mr. Curran on his return to Ireland. He has heard that he finds himself cold, and is displeased or disgusted with every thing in Paris. Mr. Plowden for a short time fondly hoped that a forlorn and deserted exile might have proved an exception.

"To J. P. Curran, Esq."

"DEAR PLOWDEN,-How could you send me so unkind a farewell? Since my coming hither, I have been in miserable health and spirits. I am sorry you could have thought my going a great distance to drop my name the smallest proof of respect or esteem; had I thought so, I would not have been insolvent. I fear you must have been a fellow-sufferer, or you could not, on such grounds, suspect me of cooling in my esteem for your talents, or concern for the adverse accidents which I fear are the inseparable concomitants of virtue and genius. I am not without hope that I may soon again return hither, and then I shall take care to give no cause for your chiding. However, I can not but say that I feel more pleasure than pain when I have to put up with some little jealousies in those I most regard, when they proceed more from their suspicions than from my delinquency. Good-by for a while, and don't be disposed to doubt of the real friendship and kindness of yours very truly, J. P. C."

To this Mr. Plowden sent a farewell answer, concluding, in my mind, most justly thus: "May you long live happy, and never cease to bear the honorable badge of singularity as the only Irish senator of spotless and unexampled consistency through life!" It is but right to say, that as I have only copies without dates, I am not certain whether this correspondence took place in 1802 or 1814. However, it is but too true that the state of his mind was quite similar on both occasions.

In this year (1802) Mr. Curran was employed upon one of

the most extraordinary cases upon record-one exhibiting, in all its features, an almost incredible picture of Ireland in that day. It was the case of Hevey v. Sirr, for false imprisonment. His speech admirably tells the story, and shows the speaker's powers in all their variety.

For the purposes of this trial," said he, "I must carry back your attention to the melancholy period of 1798. It was at that sad crisis that the defendant, from an obscure individual, started into notice and consequence. It is in the hot-bed of public calamity that such portentous and inauspicious products are accelerated without being matured. From being a town-major, a name scarcely legible in the list of public incumbrances, he became at once invested with all the powers of absolute authority. The life and the liberty of every man seemed to have been surrendered to his disposal. With this gentleman's extraordinary elevation begins the story of the sufferings and ruin of the plaintiff.

court.

"It seems a man of the name of M'Guire was prosecuted for some offense against the state. Mr. Hevey, the plaintiff, by accident was in court. He was then a citizen of wealth and credit, a brewer in the first line of that business. Unfortunately for him, he had heretofore employed the witness for the prosecution, and found him a man of infamous character; unfortunately, also, he mentioned this circumstance in The counsel for the prisoner insisted on his being sworn he was so. The jury were convinced that no credit was due to the witness for the crown, and the prisoner was accordingly acquitted. In a day or two after, Major Sirr met the plaintiff in the street, and asked him how he dared to interfere in his business, swearing by God he would teach him how to meddle with his people. Now, gentlemen, there are two classes of prophets-one, that derive their predictions from real or fancied inspiration, and are sometimes mistaken; and another, who prophesy what they are determined to bring about themselves. Of this second, and by far the most authentic class, was the major; for Heaven, you see, has no