REBEL PORTRAITS.

Tendency of the imagination toembodycharacter—Its frequent errors—Exemplified in the personal traits of several of the rebel chiefs of Ireland—The Bretons of La Vendée—Intrepidity of their leaders—The battle of Ross—Gallantry of a boy twelve years old—Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey—Description of his person and character—His habit of joking—Dangerous puns—His bewilderment as rebel generalissimo—His capture and behaviour at execution—Portrait, physical and mental, of Captain Keogh—Remarkable suicide of his brother, and his own execution—Mr. Grogan, of Johnstown Castle, described—His case, sentence, and execution—Unmerited fate of Sir Edward Crosby, Bart.

When we read or hear of public and distinguished characters, whether good or bad, we are naturally disposed to draw in our mind a figure or face for each, correspondent to the actions which rendered the individual conspicuous. We are inclined, for instance, to paint in our imagination a rebel chieftain as an athletic powerful personage, with a commanding presence;—an authoritative voice to controul; and impetuous bravery to leadon a tumultuous army of undisciplined insurgents. Were this always the case, insurrections would, perhaps, stand a better chance of being successful.[39]

39.Suchwasthe case with the Bretons in La Vendée. An officer of rank in the French army at that period, commanding a regiment of chasseur republicans, told me very lately, that above 15,000 regular troops (his regiment among the rest) were surprised at noon-day, defeated and dispersed, and their artillery and baggage taken, by asmallernumber of totally undisciplined Vendeans, with few fire-arms, but led on by officers selected for powerful strength and fiery enthusiasm. Their contempt for life, and impetuosity in close combat, were irresistible; the latter, indeed, was always a characteristic with them, and the gallantry of their chiefs was quite unparalleled.

In the Irish Rebellion of 1798, the chief leaders had scarcely any of these attributes.Numerically, the rebels were sufficient, and more than sufficient, to effect all their objects; but they had no idea of discipline, and little of subordination. Their intrepidity was great, and their perseverance in the midst of fire and slaughter truly astonishing. Yet on every occasion it was obviously thecauseand not theleadersthat spurred them into action: when Irishmenarewell officered they never yield.[40]

40.The battle of Ross, in June, 1798, lasted ten hours. The rebelofficersdid nothing, themenevery thing. While the commander-in-chief, Counsellor Bagenal Harvey, was standing on a hill nearly a mile distant, a boy twelve years old (Lett of Wexford town) called on the insurgents to follow him. He put himself at the head of ten thousand men—approached the town, and stormed it. The town took fire; the rebels got liquor; and they were killed in sleep and drunkenness. Nothing could have saved our troops had the rebels been well officered: General Johnston, who commanded the royalists, deserved great praise for his judgment on that critical occasion.

A spirit of uncompromising fortitude or enthusiastic gallantry generally spreads over the countenance some characteristic trait. Undisciplined followers are fascinated by ferocious bravery: they rush blindly any where, after an intrepid leader. But a languid eye, unbraced features, and unsteady movements, palpably betray the absence of that intellectual energy, and contempt of personal danger, which are indispensable qualities for a rebel chief.

To reflect on the great number of respectable and unfortunate gentlemen who lost their lives by the hands of the common executioner in consequence of that insurrection, is particularly sad;—indeed, as melancholy as any thing connected with the long misrule and consequent wretched state of brave and sensitive Ireland—which isnow, at the termination of seven hundred years, in a state of more alarming and powerful disquietude than at any period since its first connexion with England.

I had been, as stated in a former volume, in long habits of friendship and intercourse with most of the leading chiefs of that rebellion. Their features and manners rise, as it were in a vision, before my face: indeed, after thirty long yearsof factious struggle and agitation, when nothing remains of Ireland’s pride and independence but the memory, every circumstance occasioning and attending that period, and the subsequentrevolutionof 1800, remains in freshest colours in the recollection of a man whoonceprided himself on being born an Irishman.

I made allusion, in a previous part of this work, to a dinner of which I partook in April, 1798, at Bargay Castle, County Wexford, the seat of Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey,—who, I may as well repeat here, was a month afterward general-in-chief over an army of more than thirty thousand men (mostly of his own county), brave and enthusiastic; and, in two months more, died by the hands of the hangman. He had been my school and class-fellow, and from nine years of age we held uninterrupted intercourse: he was a most singular example of mixed and opposite qualities; and of all human beings, I should least have predicted for him such a course, or such a catastrophe.

Harvey was son of one of the six clerks of chancery, who having amassed a very considerable fortune, purchased the estate and castle of Bargay.

Beauchamp Bagenal, his eldest son, was called to the Irish bar, and succeeded to his father’s estates. It was said that he was nearly related by blood to that most extraordinary of all thecountry gentlemen of Ireland, Beauchamp Bagenal, of Dunlickry, whose splendour and eccentricities were the admiration of the continent while he was making the grand tour (then reserved as part of the education of the very highest circles). This relationship was the subject of much merriment after a duel which Harvey’s reputed kinsman provoked my friend to fight with him, in order to have the satisfaction of ascertaining, “whether or no the lad had metal.”[41]

41.Mr. Bagenal provoked Harvey to challenge him. They met. Harvey fired, and missed. “D—n you, you young rascal,” cried Bagenal, “do you know that you had like to kill yourgod-father? Go back to Dunlickry, you dog, and have a good breakfast got ready for us. I only wanted to see if you werestout.”

Harvey’s person was extremely unimposing. He was about five feet four inches in height; and that ancient enemy of all beauty, the small-pox, had shown him no mercy, every feature being sadly crimped thereby. His sharp peaked chin never approached toward a contact with his cravat, but left a thin scraggy throat to give an impoverished hungry cast to the whole contour, by no means adapted to the mien and port of a “commander of the forces.” His scanty hair generally hung in straight flakes, and did not even pretend to be an ornament to his visage; his eye was quick but unmeaning; his figure thin and ill put together; his limbs short, slight, and wabbling;his address cheerful, but tremulous. On the whole, a more unprepossessing or unmartial-like person was never moulded by capricious nature.

Yet Harvey was a very good-tempered friendly man, and a hearty companion. In common life he was extremely well conducted, and in the society of the bar often amusing, and never out of humour.

He was the greatest punster of his profession, and piqued himself on that qualification, in which he often succeeded admirably.[42]He had, in short, that sort of partial popularity with his bar contemporaries as rendered them always glad to have him in their society; but it was seldom any one inquired what had become of him when he was out of it. He had an ample store of individualcourage; feared not single combat, and fought several duels intrepidly, though I do not think he everprovokedone. He shot Sir Harding Giffard, late Chief Justice of Ceylon, and obtained a very droll name through that achievement, which never forsook him during his lifetime.

42.I cannot omit introducing here one of his puns, because he ran a great risk of beingshotfor making it. A gentleman of the bar, married to a lady who had lost all her front teeth, and squinted so curiously that she appeared nearly blind, happened to be speaking of another lady who had run away from her husband. “Well,” said Harvey, “you have somecomfortas toyourwife.”“What do you mean, sir?” said the barrister.“I mean that if once you should lose Mrs. ——, you will never be able toi-dent-ify her.”If Mr. —— had cared a farthing for his wife, it would have been impossible to reconcile this joke to him.The above was an inferior pun, but it was to thepoint, and created great merriment.

“What do you mean, sir?” said the barrister.

“I mean that if once you should lose Mrs. ——, you will never be able toi-dent-ify her.”

If Mr. —— had cared a farthing for his wife, it would have been impossible to reconcile this joke to him.

The above was an inferior pun, but it was to thepoint, and created great merriment.

Harvey was a person of the best fortune in his quarter of the county; of a Protestant family; and, being charitable and benevolent to his tenantry, was much beloved by them. Nobody in fact could dislike him: though he was flippant, he did not want sense; and presented an excellent example of those contradictory qualities so often discoverable in the same individual. He was considered by the heads of the United Irishmen to be well adapted—as a man of fortune and local influence in the most disaffected portion of their strongest county—to forward their objects: and he suffered his vanity so far to overcome his judgment, as, without the slightest experience, to assume the command of a great army—for which purpose there were few men in Ireland so utterly unfit.

In his martial office, his head became totally bewildered; the sphere of action was too great—the object struggled for, too comprehensive. Nor did even hispersonalcourage follow him to the field. His bravery, as against a single man, was neutralised in a tumult; and a mind naturally intrepid became bewildered, puzzled, and impotent.Amidst the roar of cannon, and the hurly-burly of the tumultuous and sanguinary battle of Ross, his presence of mind wholly forsook him, and he lost the day by want of tact and absence of spirit. His men fought hand to hand in the streets of Ross with the regular troops, of whom they slew a considerable number, including the Earl of Mountjoy; nor did they at last retire until they had not a single officer left to continue the engagement or lead them on to a renewed attack—which in all probability would have been effectual. Never did human beings show more decided bravery than the Irish peasantry in that bloody engagement. Thrice the town was theirs, and was finally lost by their inebriety and want of proper officers. Had Harvey captured New Ross, all Munster would have risen in his cause; and then indeed no royalist could have anticipated without dread the consequences. Officers and arms would have made the whole country inevitably theirs. When Wexford was retaken, Harvey concealed himself on an island, but was discovered, brought to that town, and without much ceremony hanged next day upon the bridge, toward the erection of which he had largely subscribed.

I could not but feel extreme regret at the sad fate which befell my old friend and school-fellow, who did not meet his destiny quite so firmly as his original manly bearing had inclined people to expect:—poor fellow! he idly strove by entreatyto avert, or at least retard it; and its infliction was aggravated by every species of indignity. In every thing except his politics, Harvey’s character was unimpeachable.

I never knew two persons much more dissimilar than were the commander-in-chief of the insurgents and the rebel governor of Wexford, Captain Keogh. The latter was a retired captain of the British service, who had fought in America, and, like many others, had there received a lesson oncivil libertywhich never escaped his memory. He was married to an aunt of Lady Barrington; and, for many years, when I went the circuit, I lived at his house, and had conceived the greatest friendship for him. He was a very clever man. His housekeeping was characterised by neatness, regularity, and cheerfulness. Every thing was good of its kind; and in that plentiful country, even luxuries were abundant. Calm, determined, moderate, and gentlemanly, Captain Keogh combined good sense with firmness and spirit. But, most unfortunately, ill-treatment sustained from Lord Chancellor Clare perverted half his good qualities, and metamorphosed him into a partizan, which was far from being his natural tendency.

He had a fine soldier-like person, above the middle size; his countenance was excellent; his features regular and engaging; his hair, rather scanty, receded from his forehead; his eyes were penetrating and expressive; and his complexionexhibited that partial ruddiness which we so frequently see in fine men approaching threescore. He was appointed rebel governor of Wexford, but among those savages soon lost his popularity; and had the insurgents continued much longer masters of the place, he would surely have been assassinated. He did what he durst on the side of humanity, and had supposed that his orders would be obeyed: but he was deceived; blood, and blood in torrents, was the object ofbothparties during that horrid summer. On the surrender of the town, Keogh was immediately convicted under martial law. He pleaded for himself; and I learn that on that occasion every body was affected. He knew his situation to be irretrievable, and his life forfeit; and he conducted himself at his execution with the utmost firmness, as became a gentleman and a soldier. He was hanged and beheaded on the bridge of which he also was a proprietor; and his head, as mentioned in a former volume (Vol. i.), was exhibited on a spike over the court-house door.

A singular circumstance occurred in Keogh’s house while the rebels were in possession of Wexford. His brother, a retired major in the British army, had also served in America, and lived with the captain in Wexford, but was a most enthusiastic royalist. Upon the rebels taking the place, he endeavoured to dissuade his brother from acceptingthe office of governor, but failing in the attempt, he retired to his own room and immediately blew his brains out!

The next of my friends and connexions who suffered by the hands of the executioner, was Mr. Cornelius Grogan of Johnstown Castle, a gentleman of large fortune, and great local interest and connexion. He had been twice high-sheriff and representative in Parliament for the county. He resided three miles from Wexford at his castle, where he had a deer-park of one thousand acres of good ground, besides a fine demesne. He lived as a quiet, though hospitable country gentleman. At this unfortunate period he had passed his seventieth year, and was such a martyr to the gout that his hands were wrapped up in flannel; and half carried, half hobbling upon crutches, he proceeded to the place of execution.

Mr. Grogan was in person short and dark-complexioned. His countenance, however, was not disagreeable, and he had in every respect the address and manners of a man of rank. His two brothers commanded yeomanry corps. One of them was killed at the head of his corps (the Castletown cavalry) at the battle of Arklaw; the other was wounded at the head ofhistroop (the Healtford cavalry) during Major Maxwell’s retreat from Wexford.

The form of a trial was thought necessary byGeneral Lake for a gentleman of so much importance in his county. His case was afterward brought before Parliament, and argued for three successive days and nearly nights. Hiscrimeconsisted in having been surrounded by a rebel army, which placed him under the surveillance of numerous ruffians. They forced him one day into the town on horseback;—a rebel of the appropriate name of Savage always attending him with a blunderbuss, and orders to shoot him if he refused their commands. They one day nominated him acommissary, knowing that his numerous tenantry would be more willing in consequence to supply them. He used no weapon of any sort;—indeed, was too feeble even toholdone. A lady of the name of Seagriff gave evidence that her family were in want of food, and that she got Mr. Grogan to give her anorderfor some bread, which order was obeyed by the insurgents. She procured some loaves, and supplied her children; and for that bread (which saved a family from starvation) Mr. Grogan was, on the lady’s evidence, sentenced to die as a felon—and actually hanged, when already almost lifeless from pain, imprisonment, age, and brutal treatment! The court-martial which tried him was not sworn, and only mustered seven in number.Hiswitness was shot while on the way to give evidence of his innocence; and while General Lake wasmaking merry with his staff, one of the first gentlemen in the county (in every point his superior) was done to death almost before his windows!

From my intimate knowledge of Mr. Grogan for several years, I can venture to assert most unequivocally (and it is but justice to his memory) that, though a person of independent mind and conduct as well as fortune, and an opposition member of parliament, he was no more arebelthan his brothers, who signalised themselves in battle asloyalists; and the survivor of whom wasrewardedby a posthumous bill of attainder against the unfortunate gentleman in question, by virtue of which estates of many thousands per annum were confiscated to the king. (The survivor’s admittedloyalbrother had been killed in battle only a few days before the other was executed.) This attainder was one of the most flagitious acts ever promoted by any government:—but after ten thousand pounds costs to crown officers, &c. had been extracted from the property, the estates were restored. I spent the summer of 1799 at Johnstown Castle, where I derived much private information as to the most interesting events of that unfortunate era.

It is, of course, most painful to me to recollect those persons whose lives were taken—some fairly—some, as I think, unfairly—at a time whenmilitary law had no restraint, and enormities were daily committed through it not much inferior to those practised by the rebels.

Sir Edward Crosby, a baronet with whom I was intimately acquainted, and who also lived tranquilly, as a country gentleman, upon a moderate fortune, near Carlow, was another person who always struck me to have beenmurderedby martial law. There was not even a rationalpretenceforhisexecution. His trial, with all its attending documents, has been published, and his innocence, in fact, made manifest. The president of the martial court was one Major Dennis, who some time after quitted the service—I shall not mention why. The sentence on Sir Edward was confirmed by Sir Charles Asgill, I must suppose through gross misrepresentation, as Sir Charles had himself known enough abouthanging(though personally innocent) in America, to have rendered him more merciful, or at least more cautious in executing the first baronet of Ireland.

The entire innocence of Sir Edward Crosby has since, as I just now mentioned, been acknowledged by all parties. His manners were mild and well-bred: he was tall and genteel in appearance; and upward of fifty years of age. He had a wife who loved him; and was every way a happy man till he was borne to execution without the slightest cause. He was the elder brother of my old college friend, Balloon Crosby, whom Ihave heretofore mentioned in relating myrencontrewith Mr. Daly. (See Vol. ii.) He did not die with the courage of Keogh, but hoped for mercy to the last minute, relying on the interference of his old friend Judge Downes, who, however, proved but a broken reed.

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